naoi

ॐ / 🪷 #cunt

[astrogirlangel]

anton i need you

[missenu]

in the frame (prologue)

synopsis: your skills as a videographer gets put to the test when your friend, who happens to be in the same profession, falls victim to double-booking. problem is, you only specialized in weddings, not adult films. despite your initial reluctance, you take the job. cue the lights … you meet jeon jungkook, a pornstar, on set — in his world. you just never expected him to play a part in yours.

pairing: pornstar!jungkook x wedding videographer!fem reader

wc: 4.7k

genre: s2l, pornstar au, smut, angst, fluff

cw: crack-ish, slice of life, inaccurate adult filming industry discourse/depiction, 18+ ONLY, sexual guilt/shame, virgin oc, masturbation (f&m), oc watches porn for “research” purposes

a/n: wip since 2025 and finally making its debut! muah

masterlist | act i.

“You owe me!” Taehyung flails, feet stomping underneath the dining table like a tempered toddler.

Wedding season peaked in the fall — both a blessing and a curse. Hence, you only liked two things after being bombarded with back to back bookings: 1. a sweet treat 2. spending time with your friends. After weeks of tearful vows and hours of rigorous editing, seeing Taehyung, one of your closest friends since college, should be a blessing. 

Should be.

“When have we ever kept tally on owing shit? And for the last time, Tae,” you rub your temples, “I'm not helping you film. Can't you just cancel or reschedule with one of your directors?” 

In any other circumstance, you would have taken up this project.

You and Taehyung have a long-standing history starting as bright-eyed film students in the same cohort. You’d eventually discover his innate skills and very (heavy emphasis on the very) eccentric visions in film. He was different — highly cherished and praised by the university's faculty. You, on the other hand, put in extra hours only to barely skim the baseline.

You were just … good. Which isn’t a bad thing, but in a room full of endless potential and creativity, you felt like you didn’t belong. 

Taehyung never saw an issue in your style and passion, stereotypical or not.

Even though your classmates awarded him with the title “Most Likely to Win an Oscars,” he did quite the opposite. Everyone, including yourself, expected greatness from Kim Taehyung — whether it be through starting his own production company or winning a Sundance Film competition. 

But … his passions took a turn. 

Of all the spaces he could’ve wound up in, he landed himself in the adult film industry.

Yes. Porn.

When he broke the news on his career switch, you smiled and nodded, praying you didn’t display a single ounce of disdain. He’s been nothing but supportive in your journey and career. The least you can do is swallow and hide your judgment in favor of supporting your best friend.

Minus this particular tall ask. 

He frowns. “Please? I really need your help. You’ll do just fine, I promise.”

“I’m literally a wedding videographer.” You deadpan. 

“And you’d be perfect for the job!”

You shake your head vehemently, choosing to redirect all the attention to your untouched plate of chicken wings. They're cold now, time wasted on Taehyung's bizarre request.

“Come on.” He pleads. “I never ask you for these types of favors …”

"What about the time you asked me to stick a thermometer up your ass?"

"That was a medical emergency!"

You both continue listing crazy requests you’ve done for each other, inevitably leading to the same response: no, you didn’t want to film porn on his behalf. 

Boundaries existed for a reason and Taehyung knew when to throw in the towel. The last thing he'd want to do is make you uncomfortable.

Still, his shoulders drop, eyes hung low in disappointment. “Alright, I’ll let the director know I’ll have to miss out on this project.”

Bam, case-closed, you both can resume the night as intended.

Utensils scrape and clatter against the plates among other tables in the restaurant, but the silence and tension rings louder between you and your best friend. He purses his lips and looks away, unwilling to meet your eyes or say what’s weighing on his mind. 

You sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

"Sure, whatever." 'Sure? Whatever?' Now, that's teetering close to fighting words …

“Why this field? Our professors always loved your work—”

His bitter laugh cuts through your words. He leans against his chair and tips his head back.

“Spare me the judgment. I expected this from other people, not from my best friend.”

“I’m not judging—”

“You are.”

This was supposed to be a carefree night. 

No drama.

Instead, it seems to be leading right to the dreaded Talk™. Which, unfortunately, is anything but carefree.

“You’re right.” You concede, catching a flash of his frown. "Only because we've always tip-toed around this topic."

“What do you want me to say?”

“The truth. Tell me why you decided on this route.”

“Dude, you can’t even say ‘sex work’ or ‘porn industry’ without looking like a deer in headlights. What makes you think I wanna talk to you about it?” Taehyung rolls his eyes. 

You grimace. Has your discomfort always been this apparent?

Hold on. Pause. 

“But you want me to help film?” You press.

“Well, I was wrong for trying to bring my friend out of their shell. There’s more out there besides weddings.”

Silence.

“W-wait.” He stammers. “That’s not what I meant. You know I respect–”

You hold a hand up. 

"I know.” You say, keeping your voice as leveled as possible. That was a talk for another time.

“Just tell me why you chose this route, Tae. I only ask because I genuinely care and want to know.”

You do.

Both you and Taehyung know that's all you do … too much sometimes, but that's what he loves about you.

“It’s just,” He starts, visibly uncomfortable and awkward, “I’m burnt out from all these expectations. You said it yourself ... ‘All the professors loved your work.’ I can’t fuckin’ keep up.”

“Filming porn is easy." He continues. "There’s no second-guessing. And … it's different. Makes me feel special.” He sniffs and wipes at his nose. “I'm happy there.”

You grab his hand, squeezing gently while he looks at you with a guilt stricken expression.

“I'm sorry for being short with you.” He apologizes. "You're right too. We keep dodging this topic."

Your thumb traces the top of his hand, “I think I’m just a little biased about that—the porn industry.” You correct yourself. “For the record, I'll always support you.”

Taehyung scoots closer to your chair and wraps his arms around you.

“I really did mean it when I said you’d be perfect for the job.”

You laugh. “I don’t think they need a wedding videographer’s touch for that sort of production, but thanks.”

The night continues as intended: lighthearted and free. Waitresses and nearby patrons stare in fascination (or in annoyance … you can't tell nor do you care) whenever a laugh rings a little louder at your table. You always feel fuller after being around your best friend.

“Proud of ya,” he drunkenly confesses after one too many drinks. “Love seeing you in your element.” 

Funnily enough, Taehyung had also dabbled into the wedding industry. Let's just say his clients didn't appreciate his … visions. Not everyone was keen on a Carrie themed wedding announcement, okay?

That's the difference between you and Taehyung. Tried and true versus abstract and risky. There's much to learn from each other, which is why the friendship works.

And you do have a thing or two to learn from Taehyung. 

Hell, you’ve always played it safe – never tested boundaries. You went to school, got decent grades, and now you run your own business. Everything was fine. Too fine.

The world was your oyster; yet, you’ve never made a quest to seek out for more. Point is, you’re comfortable and that’s what makes you uncomfortable.

Substituting for one of Taehyung’s gigs wouldn’t mean you’re forever locked in to that field … right? Makes you wonder, should you just do it? 

“Fuck it,” you mumble to yourself. 

“Hm?” Taehyung looks up from his phone after placing an order for a cab.

“I’ll do it. I’ll help you.”

“Huh? What are you—”

“Filming. Just this once.” You say, more definite in your words.

“Wait, uh, are you serious? You don’t have to, really. I was kidding when I said you owed me.” Taehyung waves his hands frantically.

“No shit.” You grin. “We’re friends. There’s no such thing as owing each other favors. I want to help you because I do. It’s important to you; therefore, important to me.” Self-growth, you tell yourself, because you needed that too.

He stares at you and shakes his head. 

“Let’s talk again when we’re both sober, okay?”

“But …”

“Sober.” He says, final and definite.

One week later

“Not too late to back out.” Taehyung’s voice blares through your phone speaker. 

Actually, it was too late and highly unprofessional if you were to back out the night before. 

“Why would I do that?”

He says your name sternly, “You don’t have to do something you’re uncomfortable with.” 

“Then why would you even ask me to do it?” You stare at your phone, hands slowing as you rub your moisturizer into your skin. 

“Honestly? Didn’t think you’d actually agree …” 

Hard to believe since he damn near dropped on his knees begging for your help.

“Well … surprise.”

“Okay, thank you. Seriously. You really are doing me a huge favor.” He sighs. “Let me know if you need any pointers.”

“Think I should be okay.” You lie. One way or another, you'll get through this project. Similar to your wedding bookings, you'll go in blindly. And similar to your bookings, everything has an opportunity to end beautifully … or not.

Again, you remind yourself to keep an open mind.

“I’m still shocked about this whole ordeal.” He confesses. 

“How so?” 

“You've never seen someone else's genitalia in the flesh.” He snorts.

“I know what a penis and vagina looks like, Tae.” You roll your eyes. 

“You know what I mean.” 

Celibacy at your age was nothing groundbreaking. Remaining a virgin at twenty-nine, however, was not something you accounted for. Your parents' strict dating policy as an adolescent residing under their roof had lots to do with it, but you had full reigns of your romantic life in college. Thanks to your fixation with school, dating never happened; consequently, sex never happened either.

Though, you had many close "fuck it" moments and contemplated randomly hooking up with a stranger to say you've at least experienced sex. Again, never happened. Your first time should be with someone you trusted and cared for. Plus, physical attraction played a huge role and there wasn’t anyone you felt particularly drawn to like that.

At the end of the day, virginity was a social construct. Life goes on. Who cares whether you've been sexually active with another person? 

Hint: you do. And secretly, so does the rest of society.

“So what?”

“Kind of poetic if you think about it.”

What was so poetic about filming porn as a virgin?

“Whatever you say, Shakespeare.” You scoff.

“That's a compliment." You don't have to see him to know he's got a prideful smirk plastered on his face. "But alright, I won’t keep you up any longer. Big day ahead of you tomorrow. Text me if anything comes up.”

“Mmkay, will do. G'night.”

Your clock reads a quarter after eleven. Too late to be doing any editing, but your mind buzzes with one too many thoughts to allow for respite. 

Settling into bed, you crack open your laptop. Might as well be productive and work out your inquiries and schedule for the upcoming month.

Emails? Replied.

Bookings? Confirmed.

Stomach? In knots.

You sink deeper into your mattress. Maybe this was all a mistake, but it's too late to back out now. 

Laptop still perched on your stomach, you groan before immediately clicking into your private browser tab to type in the infamous website you frequented in your early college years when curiosity got the best of you and hormones ran high. 

The first thing you saw were the flashing ads. ‘WANNA JERK OFF? YOU WON’T LAST FIVE SECONDS.’ Next came the tits. And by god, there were lots. You’ve never seen anything more perfect and round than the ones on your screen. A hand leaves your keyboard to grip your covered breast. Hm, yeah, definitely smaller than the ones you see — nipple far from perky like theirs.

More random thumbnails of lewd images pop up as you soak in the page. Your heart races and palms sweat, exhilaration coursing through you as you type in the production company’s name: RkivedShots.

“This is all for educational purposes. Like studying the night before an exam. Yep.” You reason.

Laying against your headboard, your knees prop up to steady your laptop. Hands reaching for your wired earphones, you lower the volume on your speakers in the event you accidentally clicked on something. 

You didn't live with any roommates, but this felt private. In the off chance your neighbors had super hearing powers, you preferred keeping all potentially explicit sounds to yourself.

'Director Kim is different. I like his vision. Totally my style.' Taehyung recounted during a coffee run last week.

Within ten seconds of being on the company’s channel, you concluded one thing: RkivedShots was … odd.

You hover over a thumbnail appearing as a clam, later transforming to a vagina. The title of the video read: reborn as a mussel like aphrodite spawning in sea foam [cum as sea foam].

What the hell.

‘we found god in each other’s genitals’

‘possessive possession — don’t worry, we have a shaman on site’

‘if you were clay, i’d mold you into the prettiest vase [hardcore bdsm]’

Your eyes widen at all the titles, which progressively worsens with the video’s preview containing trippy transitions and themes. Oh, you feel sick.

The idea of filming porn was no easy feat as is, let alone editing afterwards. But if you can’t even stand looking at RkivedShots’ thumbnails, how were you going to survive being on set tomorrow?

Fuck, you have to persevere.

‘fucking the patriarchy out of a conservative [not clickbait]’

Seems normal … ish.

You click on the video out of curiosity.

Big mistake.

Let's paint the scene: Two men at the Oval Office. One man, rather on the thinner side, dressed in hipster clothing with a matcha latte in one hand and a book in another while he had, what you presume, an older politician bent over a desk. 

“SAY YOU LOVE FEMINISM OR ELSE I WON’T FUCK YOU.”

“OH FUCK, I LOVE FEMINISM!!! PLEASE DON'T STOP!” The politician begs and fucks himself back.

Book tossed onto the desk, the hipster pours his iced matcha latte onto the politician’s back and begins going to pound town while the national anthem played in the background.

Your jaw drops.

With a grimace and a quick 'ew,' you frantically search for the back button to free yourself of whatever was playing. Says a lot when you feel more relief on the company's main channel than you had on that one video.

“God, what was that?” You mumble, finger swiping at your mousepad to sift through other videos. Your eyes land on another video titled ‘grapefruit.’ Short and simple. You’re not chancing it though and would rather edit a twenty hour long footage than watch someone potentially fuck a grapefruit … or whatever Director Kim came up with.

Finally, you reach a video appearing "normal" based on the title and thumbnail alone, only showcasing a half naked man in boxer briefs, face cut from view. His tattooed arm rests on his torso, hand cupping his groin area. 

‘relax with me after a long day [JK 🐰]’

You swallow. 

Thirty minutes long. A simple masturbation video. In comparison to all the hour long videos on this channel, this felt like an anomaly. Heart hammering in your chest, you click on the thumbnail.

You made a mental note to call it a night if you see even one crazy transition. You're hopeful though — hopeful the video would do exactly as the title suggested.

To relax — ease your mind a little after being exposed to nothing but oddities this evening.

Maybe, this one will be normal. 

But this begged another question: was porn normal?

Your breath hitches once the video begins, soft piano music playing in the background. The man on screen stirs something in the depths of your stomach. The piercings, sharp jawline, and angled brows paired with his round eyes? Every part of his face was a contradiction. And yet, you were undeniably captivated by his beauty. 

Eyes talk and his spoke to you without words. 

Unlike the video’s thumbnail, he’s completely clothed. The production style mirrored a vlog, except there's the looming knowledge of what's yet to come. Probably him. No, undoubtedly him. 

“Hey.” He greets with a lopsided grin. You increase the volume on your earphones a little higher, eager to hear more of him. 

The video cuts to him cooking a meal, eating, watching television, and working out. Mundane life stuff. Every segment was less than three seconds long. Short-lived. That is, until the next clip cuts to him showering.

The all-glass shower and camera angled modestly leave viewers with wandering thoughts. Even with the steam blurring the shower glass, there's urgency in his movements — longing to rejoin the camera.

The sight of him emerging from the shower stall has you clenching your thighs together. Camera still propped at the same angle, you're only able to make out his upper half. Which, honestly, was more than enough for your mind to dip into darker territories. And fuck … his dripping wet hair and body does things to your poor heart … among other parts of your body. 

As he dries his hair, you catch his eyes. 

Again, no actual words get exchanged. He keeps you entranced.

He’s on a light brown couch now, appearances matching the video’s thumbnail. 

Fumbling with the camera, he props it on the table. Not even one second after he backed away, the camera falls face down. He chuckles, rich and full of life. You bite back your own giggle having related to his struggle plenty of times in the past. 

“Whoops, sorry—dropped ya' on accident.” He says as he moves the camera upright. Seated back, that's when you see it. 

The outline of his hard cock. 

How’d he get like that? You’re not sure.

What you’re sure of, though, is how your body reacts as he smirks. Given any other man you've encountered online with this exact demeanor, you'd immediately rule them as overly confident, borderline cocky — only deserving of being ignored. Yet, you stay for him.

He knows he's hot.

And maybe for that reason, he needs no formal transition or introduction to what he does next. Your eyes follow the hand trailing down his torso and past the waistband of his boxers. Still covered, he wraps his hand around his hard length. The outline of his closed fist moves slowly, tugging until he releases a shaky breath.

“Fuck—ngh,” he tosses his head back, moans coming out sporadically — the slight lift in his voice damn near mimicked a whine.

Tongue heavier in your mouth, you watch him pull the front of his boxers down to expose his cock. It slaps against his abdomen. Thick. Hard. Flushed. 

He’s so beautiful. It’s only natural every part of him matched his perfection. The vein running on the underside of his cock matched with the ones on his hand.

You really should click out. 

Really. 

You shouldn’t dip your hand down your front.

Shouldn’t cup your still-covered pussy only to feel your arousal has seeped through your panties. 

Shouldn’t press your middle finger down your covered slit.

Shouldn’t whimper when he pauses to spit into his hand only to go back to jerking his length, legs spreading wider.

“Wish you were here with me.”

You’re not sure who he was referring to. Certainly not you, but the admission was enough coercion to give into your needs. 

For a moment, you forget why you're even on this site. "Research" purposes. Right. Yeah … and you're in the exploratory phase now, searching aimlessly for some form of relief.

You deserved it.

He wants you to.

Why else would the video be titled that way? 

The handsome man on your screen seems to contribute to your reasoning, giving you one more reason, one last go ahead. His honey voice resounds in your ears. “Want you to play with yourself too. Can you do that for me?”

The softly spoken request sends a shock wave down your spine, and if you weren’t already so aroused you would be ashamed at how fast your body reacted.

Your brows pull together at the bare contact of your middle finger and clit. 

You moan as you rub your clit in small circles, relieved from the motion. The occasional wet sounds reach your ears when you move a little quicker to match his pace.

You’re determined to do so, especially when he keeps voicing his praises. “Good. So good. Can you keep up with me?”

The laptop's fan whirs on your stomach, heat keeping you warm. Your forearm knocks and shakes the laptop. Still, you had the perfect view of him.

Another shaky breath slips past your lips.

His hips lift from the couch, hand paying extra attention to the top half of his shaft. He knows what he likes. What gets him shuddering — what gets him wanting more.

A clear, translucent liquid builds at his slit the more he jerks himself off. Doesn't touch it though — no, not yet. Lets it build until it dribbles down the edge of his length on its own, and he lets out a particularly raspy moan at the sight.

"Fuck." You choke, arm slipping down lower. Your middle finger stops just at your entrance.

Penetration was not your thing, but tonight, you entertain the fantasy of him inside you. Middle finger teasing your entrance, you push and prod, imagining his tip kissing your entrance. Would he beg to enter inside of you, whine and groan the same way he does while playing alone with himself? Smear and mark his precum all over your entrance to claim you as his?

Truthfully, the concept of something entering in you felt better than the actual act. You've tried fingering yourself in the past — hurt and burned like hell. Could never get the position right. And honestly? Who cared knowing the clit was right there?

But the thought of the man on screen pushing his length inside — stuffing you, fucking you, filling you up good … god, you needed to feel something, anything, inside you. 

Arousal trailing down your slit and ass, you wedge your arm down even lower. Your finger pushes against your entrance with a little more purpose, the first knuckle slipping in with little resistance.

Eyes shut, you bite the inside of your cheeks. You don't linger inside for long as a result of the stinging sensation.

A sigh of relief tumbles out as your finger goes back to its happy place.

Again, tried and true.

“Wanna cum with you so badly.” He breathes, jaw going slack before he wraps his lips around the digits of his other free hand. You watch with anticipation, teeth biting down your bottom lip at the sight of his wet, glistening fingers tracing around his nipple. 

T-shirt tucked underneath your chin, you shudder from the cold air, but copy what the man does. Imagine it’s his lips enclosed over your hardened nipples, the cold metal piercing making contact against your skin. He’d look up at you, smile prettily like he has in the video, and worship your body as he likes.

Fuck. 

There’s a certain numbness you feel at the bottom of your stomach signaling your end. You tense, fingers moving faster over your clit. 

His once pushed-back wet bangs are now dried and wavy on his forehead. If not for all the sinful acts he’s doing to himself neck down, he’d look like someone you could see hanging out with and talking to — a friend. Let’s be real … how good of a friend can you be to someone you’re about to cum with? 

He's not faring any better. His impatient whines grow louder, bleary eyes fighting to stay open as he jerks himself off faster. Everything tells you he’s going to cum: the blush on his chest, the tightness in his balls, the freshly bitten lips. 

Oh, you want every bit of it. Want, no, need to see how he finishes and how he loses control of his body in his climax. 

But just at the last second, he pulls away. Cock resting flushed and firm against his stomach, he laughs. Breathless, akin to a mock. Your hand comes to a halt as well, clit twitching against your fingers. There's no gratification in cumming if the experience was stolen and watered down.

“Sorry,” he breathes. “Still with me? Didn’t finish yet, right?”

A soft, yet frustrated whine leaves your lips. Technically, you didn't need him — could finish the job yourself. But you wanted this … wanted to end with him.

You wait patiently, body reeling in excitement as he wraps his hand around his length again. Your fingers remain stagnant, afraid one minor movement might lead to an unsatisfied orgasm.

“Want you to finish with me. Please?” His head falls back as he wanks himself again, speed ramping up. 

He does this multiple times. Gets himself all worked up. Teases himself—teases his viewer. Gets close. Stops. 

Rinse and repeat.

He edges himself near the point of punishment — excels at it like it’s his favorite sport.

And you follow after him every time because it feels good to be led like this. You’re so fucking wet, fingers coated with your slick. You're sure if you move from where you’re laying, there would be a damp spot on your bedsheets, a clear indicator of your arousal.

“You wanna cum with me so badly, huh?” He husks. “Been so good for me, yeah? Would be so nice to cum together, right baby? I’ll give you what you want.” 

His words earn another moan from you — and fuck, you don’t think you can last a minute longer. Quickly, your mouse hovers at the time bar again, eyes scanning for any indication of the most played segment. 

28:37. The video peaks right there — the finish line.

And you're deserving of every bit of this victory.

He wets his lips with his tongue and smiles. The glint of his lip piercings catches the light and then—

"Oh fuckfuckfuck, I'm gonna cum—"

You've been so good, so obedient. To hell with your goal of a timed orgasm to match his … you have to put yourself first. Toes curled, your body loses all control as you finish before him. 

It's enough, though. His whines, the stutter of his chest, the speed of his hand. And when his cum paints his abdomen and dribbles over his veiny fist, your hand flattens on your mound, four fingers rubbing vigorously to extend every second of your long-awaited orgasm. Back arching off your headboard, your body withers from the impact: gut-punching, velvety … practically soul-sucking.

You lay there shaking and sensitive from your earth-shattering orgasm for a couple seconds before pulling your hand out of your pants. It's then you realize how numb and achy your arm got from all the exertion. You raise your poor hand to your face, light catching and displaying a clear sheen of the aftermath of your intense orgasm. Before your mind could register what you had done, a breathy laugh cuts through the silence.

“Fuck. That was a good one.”

Whelp, there it is: post-nut clarity.

You’ve never ripped your earphones out and closed a browser faster than you have now. Shame heats up the back of your neck at the realization you had just beat off to a random stranger online. Sure, you’ve done so before in your early twenties, but you’ve grown since then (so you think). There were many alternatives to getting off without watching other people. 

You shake your head in embarrassment, forearm coming up to cover your eyes. 

Every part of your body feels weightless, tension no longer present in your muscles after finishing the way you did. As tempting as it was to just go to sleep, you know you’ll regret not cleaning up the mess between your legs and fingers in the morning. 

Another minute goes by before forcing yourself to look for a new pair of underwear and sleep shorts. The clean up and change in the bathroom is quick only because you can’t bear looking into the mirror. 

So afraid you’ll unearth and confront your true feelings of the time spent with the video: You liked it. Specifically, you liked how safe you felt behind the screen with that man. 

Sleep comes with little effort tonight … all thanks to a boy with eyes that spoke without words.

a/n: ty to my lovely betas @takeitawaykenny & @lovieku!! yall both saved my life with ur eagle eyes and big brains. this couldn’t have happened without your guys help and input 🥺 tytytytytyyyy

now.. gentle readers, thoughts/predictions? im editing ch1 atm, so any encouragement would be greatly appreciated ♡ i anticipate posting in a couple weeks. toodles!!

edit: no taglist for this series!

act i.

[voyter]

VIRGOS GROOVE ⊹ . ݁𓏲 teaser

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader genre. yearner!jungkook. workaholic!jungkook. smut. established relationship. exes to lovers. toxic dynamics.

growing tired of your sexual needs being constantly neglected, you end things with your boyfriend. jungkook, however, is determined to convince you to give him a second chance — and promises to give you everything he's capable of this time. after all, a man who yearns is a man who earns.

FOR TEASER word count. 1.3k words warnings. light angst ? public breakup. jungkook begs. mentions of sex. pet names (baby, babe, honey). argument !! accusation of cheating.

Confrontation had always been something you avoided. You hated uncomfortable conversations, hated the way tension sat heavy in the air and turned everything fragile.

But enduring in silence was worse.

It starts small — swallowing your thoughts back, brushing off your feelings, convincing yourself it’s not a big enough deal to mention. Then suddenly, months pass, and boredom settles into places love is supposed to sit.

Jungkook sits across from you in the dimly lit restaurant, elbow propped against the table, his head resting heavily in his palm. Around you, the restaurant is lively — silverware clinking against porcelain, low laughter spilling between candlelit tables, soft conversations blending into the warm ambiance. Maybe even a quiet first love confession happening at a nearby booth, completely unbeknownst to you.

Still, none of it feels louder than Jungkook’s silence.

Because while everyone around you seems to be falling into each other, you and him sit in silent tension. Painfully distant, neither of you even looking at each other.

His glass of wine sits untouched and forgotten between you. Your fingers fidget anxiously in your lap, unsure of what to do with them. And somewhere between the appetizers and silence, a breakup waits patiently — only minutes away from happening.

As Jungkook sits there, quietly processing your admission, you feel the weight of months spent burying your truth begin to lift from your shoulders.

It’s bittersweet.

Relief settles in first. Your chest feels lighter now that you’ve finally said it all, now that you no longer have to force feelings or sidestep the conversations you were too afraid to have. For the first time in months, your conscience feels quieter.

But guilt settles beside it just as quickly, a lingering pang blooming in your gut when you see your boyfriend ex-boyfriend so visibly distressed.

You and Jungkook had been together for nearly a year. Not the longest relationship by any means, but long enough that loving him had become second nature. Long enough for him to know little things about you — like how you hated leaving your toothbrush in the bathroom or how you couldn’t sleep with socks on, no matter how cold it got. Long enough for spare clothes to accumulate each other’s apartments, for two robes to hang in your bathroom, and for his shoe rack to hold an extra pair of slippers despite the fact that he technically lived alone.

Long enough to feel settled. Long enough to already imagine eternity.

Jungkook had been painfully easy to love. Thoughtful. Dependable. Patient in ways that mattered. The kind of person who never raised his voice when he was upset, who noticed little habits you didn’t even realize you had, who showed up without hesitation even when life was heavy on his own shoulders. He checked every box you thought a good partner should have.

However, there was just one he didn’t quite complete.

Your heart is with him, but your body isn’t satisfied.

“Let me get this straight,” Jungkook says, elbows planted against the table, fingers intertwined tightly in front of him. His expression hardens with disbelief. “You want to leave me because we’re not having good sex?”

“Okay, maybe lower your voice,” you mumble quickly, embarrassingly glancing around the restaurant before looking back at him. “Kook, when’s the last time we actually had sex. And I don’t mean morning quickies right before work, I mean like… sex.”

Jungkook exhales through his nose, gaze dropping briefly to the table before reaching for your hand.

“Baby, you know how hard things have been,” he says quietly. “I work, you work. Whenever we have the time, we’re too exhausted. Half the time we barely even see each other.”

“I just don’t get it,” you say, pulling your hand back before he can fully take it. Frustration bleeds into your voice now, embarrassment fading away as something sharper takes its place. “It was never an issue before! We used to have sex all the time, Kook.”

Jungkook’s lip presses into a thin line as he watches you hesitate, like you’re standing on the edge of something you don’t wanna say — a word that feels almost forbidden on your tongue. But you’ve already gone this far.

So it comes out anyway.

“Do you just not love me anymore?”

Jungkook’s expression shifts in an instant. 

“What?” he says quickly. “No. No, baby, don’t do that.” His voice softens, quieter now. “You know I love you. That'll never change. Why would you even think that?”

“Can you blame me?” Your eyes sting as you look down at the table. “You barely kiss me anymore, Jungkook. You barely touch me unless we’re leaving for work or going to bed. I feel like I’m constantly begging for your attention.”

“Honey…” He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. “You know my hours have changed. My position at work is different now, there’s more responsibility and-”

“There you go,” you cut in, voice cracking despite yourself. “That’s exactly the problem.”

You shake your head, blinking hard.

“Every conversation somehow turns back to work. Every excuse is work.” Your chest tightens. “I get that you’re tired, Jungkook, I do. But it feels like your job gets all of you and I just get the short end of the stick.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says quickly, nodding like he’s already trying to solve it. “Okay, I get it. Look, I can take time off work, we can spend more time together and-”

“And then what?” you interrupt, brows knitting together. “We just go back to whatever this is?”

His mouth closes.

You shake your head.

“I don’t want you to fit me into your schedule. I should already be a part of it.”

“Babe, just…” He leans forward now, desperation and panic slipping into his expression. “Just tell me what you need, okay? Tell me what to do. I’ll fix it.”

And maybe months ago, hearing that would’ve been enough.

“I think…” You pause, looking down at your hands. “I think we need to take a break.”

The words land between you and settle into something ugly. The silence is thick and suffocating.

You don’t even have to look up to know Jungkook is staring at you now, eyes widened, nostrils flared slightly like the air had just been punched from his lungs. You can feel it — the disbelief, the panic, the hurt beginning to settle over him.

Because everybody knows what a break means.

At best, it’s the soft launch of an actual breakup — dragging things out before eventually never speaking again. At worst, it’s an excuse to sleep with other people while technically avoiding the guilt of calling it cheating.

Whichever one it is you’re offering, Jungkook won’t have it.

“No.”

He shakes his head immediately.

“Yes,” you say quietly, through your voice wavers. “I think it’s what’s best for right now.”

“What does this even mean?” he asks, pushing back in his seat slightly. “A break for what? So you can go find somebody else? Forget about me?”

The accusation stings, mostly because of how afraid he sounds.

You stand slowly, fingers reaching for your purse. “I need space, Jungkook.”

The words feel cruel leaving your mouth.

You turn toward the restaurant doors, exhaustion finally catching up to you. You just want to go home. Crawl into bed. Stop feeling everything at once.

But Jungkook isn’t ready to let the conversation end.

“Baby…”

His hand closes gently around your arm before you can make it far, enough to stop you but not enough to hurt — he would never. Before you can even turn back, he’s already standing in front of you.

“Please don’t do this,” he says, voice cracking around the edges now. His eyes search yours, glossy and pleading in a way that makes this harder than it already is. “Don’t leave me. We can fix this, okay? We’ll figure it out.”

You swallow hard.

“We will,” you say softly, forcing steadiness into your voice. “Just… not tonight, okay?”

just wanted to post this so yall know im still very much here and writing ^_^ this will prolly be posted in june if im quick enough !! obviously inspired by babys seven mv <3

[bluesayani]

softly, slowly

pt one ; here | pt three ; n/a

WORD COUNT 4.6k

PAIRING(S) anton x fem!reader

NOTE(S) hai, how are we liking the story so far

ABOUT THE STORY both reader and anton are cutie and losers, mention of sakura from le sserafim

—

After Anton leaves, you stare at your anatomy notes for a solid thirty seconds before realizing you haven’t absorbed a single word. Not one. Your eyes had technically been scanning the page, sure, but your brain was too busy replaying every interaction from the last hour instead.

You look nice today.

I didn’t really want to leave yet.

I’ll text you later?

You immediately drop your forehead against the table with a quiet groan. This was bad. Not bad in a horrifying way, exactly — more like bad in the sense that you could already tell this boy was going to become a problem for you emotionally. A dangerous, smiley-face-contact-name kind of problem.

Eventually, though, reality forces its way back into your brain. Because unlike your suddenly active love life, anatomy was not going to pass itself. So you force yourself to refocus.

And somehow, after another hour of aggressive highlighting and self-inflicted academic suffering, you manage to convince yourself you’ve earned enough productivity points to survive the rest of the day.

By the time you finally leave the café, your eyes hurt, your back hurts, and you’re running entirely on caffeine and academic anxiety.

Since your car was still dead in the parking lot of despair, you end up calling an Uber to campus.

The driver spends the entire ride listening to a podcast about cryptocurrency while you sit there clutching your coffee and trying not to fall asleep before noon.

College really was glamorous.

Your first lecture of the day feels approximately six hours long despite only lasting fifty minutes. By lecture number two, your stomach starts growling aggressively enough that the girl beside you glances over in concern. Which is how you end up surviving the afternoon on a second coffee and half a blueberry scone from the café between classes.

Honestly? It barely counts as food.

Still, you manage to drag yourself through all three lectures without physically collapsing, which feels like an achievement worth celebrating. Unfortunately, your last class of the day is anatomy. The mortal enemy.

You slide into your seat near the middle row while students chatter around you, and almost immediately you recognize the girl sitting one seat over.

She had long dark hair pinned back loosely and always dressed effortlessly cute in a way that felt intimidating but also weirdly approachable.

You’d talked exactly once before when she borrowed a pencil from you during a quiz. A few minutes before class starts, she glances over hesitantly.

“Hey,” she says softly. “Sorry, random question… but did you happen to take notes during yesterday’s lecture?”

You blink before nodding quickly.

“Oh— yeah, I did.”

Her shoulders visibly relax.

“Thank God.” She laughs quietly. “I missed class because my roommate purposely gave herself food poisoning.”

You stare at her.

“…Purposely?”

“She tried to make gas station sushi work for her.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. It was tragic.”

You can’t help laughing a little as you pull your notebook out of your bag.

“You can look at mine if you want.”

“Seriously?” she asks. “You’re saving my life right now.”

You hand the notebook over while she smiles warmly.

“I’m Sakura, by the way.”

You tell her your name, and somehow the conversation continues naturally after that. Sakura turns out to be surprisingly easy to talk to — the kind of person who fills silences comfortably instead of making them awkward. By the middle of class, the two of you are whispering comments back and forth about how terrifying your professor’s diagrams look.

“That does not resemble a human organ,” Sakura whispers dramatically, staring at the projector screen. “That looks like roadkill.”

You nearly choke trying not to laugh.

“Be serious.”

“I am serious.”

“You’re going to get us kicked out.”

“Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time”

By the end of the lecture, you realize something strange. You actually… enjoyed talking to someone new. Usually conversations with unfamiliar people drained you almost immediately, but Sakura somehow made things feel easy.

As students begin packing up, she hands your notebook back carefully.

“Thank you again,” she says. “Your notes are insanely organized, by the way.”

You groan. “Anton said the same thing.”

The words leave your mouth before your brain catches up. Sakura immediately pauses.

“…Anton?”

You freeze. Oh my God. Why did you say his name like he was already a regular part of your life?

“Uh,” you recover awkwardly, “this guy I met recently.”

Sakura’s expression shifts instantly into interest.

“Oh, there’s a guy.”

“There’s not a guy.”

“There is absolutely a guy.”

You shove your notebook into your bag aggressively. “There is potentially a male individual.”

“That’s worse somehow.”

You laugh despite yourself while the two of you head out into the hallway together.

“Well,” Sakura says, adjusting the strap of her bag, “male individual aside, we should study together sometime. You seem smart.”

You blink slightly.

“Oh.”

Why did you keep saying that today?

“You don’t have to sound shocked,” Sakura says dryly.

“No, sorry!” you say quickly. “I just— yeah. I’d like that.”

And surprisingly, you really do mean it. By the time the conversation ends and the two of you split off toward different buildings, your mood feels lighter than it had in weeks. Maybe Harvey was right. Maybe things actually were changing a little.

Unfortunately, your motivation to study disappears the second you step into the library later that evening. Still, you force yourself through another hour anyway.

You rewrite anatomy definitions until the words lose all meaning. You attempt practice questions. You drink the world’s saddest vending machine hot chocolate.

And by eight o’clock, you genuinely feel like your brain might start leaking out of your ears.

You’re halfway through rereading a chapter for the third time when your phone buzzes beside your laptop.

Immediately, your attention snaps toward the screen.

And there it is.

Anton :)

WHAT WOULD I DO - STRAWBERRY GUY | PLAYING NOW

Your stomach flips embarrassingly fast.

You open the message almost instantly.

a: are you still at the library?

y: unfortunately yes

a: do you need a ride home?

You blink at the screen. Then again. Somehow, something as simple as that makes warmth spread through your chest.

"Not Want to hang out?"

"Not I’m bored."

Just:

"Do you need a ride home?"

Like helping you had already quietly become something he wanted to do. You bite down on your smile before typing back carefully.

y: maybe

y: as long as you're still not a serial killer

Three dots appear again.

a: i think i’d be a really bad serial killer honestly

A laugh escapes you before you can stop it.

A second message follows right after.

a: also im outside already

Your eyes widen immediately.

You look up instinctively toward the dark library windows even though there’s no possible way to see the parking lot clearly from here.

Your heart starts beating a little faster.

And despite the fact that you’ve spent the last hour exhausted and miserable, suddenly you don’t really want to be in the library anymore.

You pack your things embarrassingly fast. Like, concerningly fast.

The second your laptop slides into your bag, you’re already shoving loose papers between textbook pages and zipping everything shut with the urgency of someone escaping prison.

You try not to think too hard about what that says about you.

A few students glance up as you hurry through the library, your boots echoing softly against the floor before you finally push through the front doors and into the cold night air.

And there he is.

Anton is leaning casually against the side of his car with his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, the parking lot lights glowing softly above him. The second he notices you walking out, his face brightens almost immediately. That stupid, warm smile again. Your chest reacts to it instantly now, which is honestly becoming inconvenient.

“You escaped,” he says as you approach.

“Barely,” you reply tiredly. “I think another thirty minutes in there would’ve killed me.”

“That dramatic, huh?”

“You’ve never taken anatomy.”

“Fair point.”

He reaches for your bag automatically before you can stop him.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” he says lightly. “But if I let you carry this, then I would be an asshole, because this is insanely heavy”

“You’re making me sound weak”

“No, just someone who carries lots of unusually large books”

You sigh dramatically while handing the bag over anyway. The corners of his mouth lift slightly like he knows he won that interaction. Then, just like yesterday, he walks ahead and opens the passenger door for you.

You pause for half a second.

“You always do that,” you notice aloud.

Anton blinks. “Do what?”

“The door thing.”

“Oh.” He looks oddly shy suddenly. “My mom would kill me if I didn’t.”

“That’s kind of cute.”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. Immediately, your entire body heats up. Oh, okay.

Anton looks caught off guard too, his ears turning slightly pink as he glances away. You stare at him. Then you laugh so suddenly that it surprises both of you.

“There she is again,” Anton says softly once you finally settle into your seat.

“What?”

“That laugh.”

You immediately look down at your lap to hide your smile while he quietly closes the car door for you. The drive starts off easy after that. Comfortable.

The soft hum of the heater fills the car while music plays quietly in the background, and for once, your brain doesn’t feel like it’s moving a hundred miles an hour.

Anton asks how your classes went, genuinely listening while you complain about one of your professors spending twenty minutes explaining a topic that could’ve taken five.

“And then,” you say dramatically, “he said, ‘this will definitely be on the exam,’ which is basically psychological warfare.”

Anton laughs beside you.

“I’m serious. Nursing professors enjoy suffering.”

“You know,” he says thoughtfully, “I think every major says that about their professors.”

“No, but ours mean it.”

“Ah. Unique academic torture.”

“Exactly.”

He glances over briefly at a stoplight, smiling slightly.

“You’re funny.”

Your stomach flips.

“Oh.”

You immediately groan. “I need to stop responding to compliments like a really confused Victorian child.”

Anton nearly chokes laughing.

“A confused Victorian child?”

“Yes.”

“I honestly kind of love that description.”

You cover part of your face with your sleeve in embarrassment while he continues laughing quietly beside you. For a second, you just watch him.

The way his eyes crinkle slightly when he laughs. The way he taps his fingers lightly against the steering wheel at red lights. The way talking to him somehow never feels draining, even after the exhausting day you’ve had.

It feels easy being around him. Dangerously easy. And right as you’re starting to relax completely—

Your stomach growls. Loudly. The sound fills the car with horrifying clarity. You freeze instantly. There’s a split second of silence before you bury your face in your hands.

“Oh my God.”

Anton looks over, immediately trying not to smile.

“You’re hungry.”

“No, actually, that was my internal organs collapsing in on themselves.”

He laughs softly.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

You think about it.

“…Does half a blueberry scone count?”

Anton’s expression drops immediately.

“That was today?”

“There were two coffees too.”

“You’re surviving entirely on caffeine and academic pressure.”

“I’m resourceful.”

“You’re concerning.”

You groan into your sleeve while he shakes his head in disbelief.

“No wonder you look exhausted.”

“That’s so mean.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he says quickly. “You still look nice. Just tired.”

Your face heats up again instantly. This boy seriously needed to stop being accidentally sweet before you lost your mind completely.

Anton glances back toward the road for a moment before speaking again.

“There’s this pho place a few minutes from here,” he says casually. “I go there all the time.”

You look over at him.

“It’s open this late?”

“Mhm. And before you say no,” he adds quickly, clearly reading your expression already, “you genuinely need real food.”

“I can feed myself, you know.”

“Debatable.”

You gasp softly. “Wow.”

“I’m kidding,” he laughs. “Mostly.”

You hesitate for a second.

A smarter version of you would probably go back to the dorm, shower, and continue stressing about school in peace. But another part of you — the newer, quieter part that had started showing up since meeting Anton — didn’t really want the night to end yet.

And being completely honest, pho sounded amazing.

“…Okay,” you admit quietly.

Anton glances over.

“Okay?”

“You can take me to the pho place.”

The smile that spreads across his face is immediate.

And somehow, seeing it makes agreeing feel completely worth it.

- 🩶 -

The pho place ends up being tucked between a laundromat and a tiny convenience store just off campus. If Anton hadn’t brought you there himself, you honestly never would’ve noticed it.

The glowing sign outside buzzes faintly in the dark, and warm golden light spills through the windows onto the sidewalk. Even from the parking lot, you can smell broth and spices drifting through the air.

The second Anton parks, he looks over at you.

“Fair warning,” he says seriously, “I’m emotionally attached to this place.”

You laugh softly. “That sounds healthy.”

“It’s not. I come here at least twice a week.”

“That’s actually kind of impressive.”

“It’s because the owner likes me.”

You narrow your eyes slightly. “Should I be worried about that wording?”

Anton grins while climbing out of the car.

The moment the two of you walk through the front door, the warmth hits you first.

The restaurant itself is small and cozy, filled with quiet conversation and the clinking of dishes. A few college students sit scattered around the tables, but most of the room feels calm and lived-in in a comforting way. And apparently, Anton wasn’t lying. Because the second an older woman behind the counter spots him, her entire face lights up.

“Anton!”

Before you can even process what’s happening, she hurries over toward him with the biggest smile imaginable. Anton immediately laughs.

“Hi, Ms. Minh.”

The woman pulls him into a tight hug like she’s known him forever before pressing a dramatic kiss to his cheek.

“You disappeared for one week and suddenly I think you died,” she scolds.

Anton looks both embarrassed and amused all at once.

“I had exams.”

“Excuses,” she says immediately.

You can’t help smiling as you watch the interaction unfold. Something about seeing Anton like this — relaxed, familiar, obviously cared for — makes your chest feel strangely warm. Then Ms. Minh notices you standing beside him. Immediately, her expression changes. Not bad exactly. Just… interested.

“Oh?” she says slowly, eyes moving between the two of you. “And who is this?”

Anton visibly short-circuits. You actually watch it happen in real time. His posture straightens awkwardly, and he rubs the back of his neck while glancing at you for approximately half a second before looking away again.

“This is…” He pauses.

You wait.

Anton clears his throat.

“This is— we’re—”

He looks genuinely nervous now, which is somehow unbelievably cute. Ms. Minh’s smile grows wider instantly.

“Ohhh,” she says knowingly.

Anton’s ears turn pink.

“We’re friends,” he says quickly.

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from smiling too hard.

“Mmhm,” Ms. Minh says in the least convincing voice imaginable. “Friends.”

Anton looks like he wants the floor to swallow him whole.

“This way,” she says cheerfully before either of you can recover.

She leads the two of you toward a booth near the back corner of the restaurant, still smiling to herself the entire time. The second she walks away to grab menus, you glance across the table at Anton. He’s covering part of his face with one hand.

“You okay over there?”

“She’s going to bully me forever now.”

You laugh softly. “You got nervous.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

Anton groans quietly. “I just didn’t know what to call you.”

“A person usually works.”

“That’s not helping.”

You grin into your sleeve while he shakes his head, still embarrassed.

Eventually, the two of you settle into easier conversation while looking over the menus. Though honestly, Anton barely even glances at his.

“You already know what you want, don’t you?”

“I always get the same thing.”

“That’s such a dad habit.”

When Ms. Minh comes back to take your orders, she winks at Anton so obviously that you nearly choke trying not to laugh. Anton, meanwhile, looks one step away from combusting. Once she disappears again, he drops his head lightly against the table for half a second.

“I’m never recovering from this.”

“You’re handling it very bravely.”

“Thank you.”

The conversation flows naturally after that. Easier than it probably should considering how recently you met.

At some point, while talking about classes again, you mention one of your professors assigning an absurd amount of reading.

Anton blinks at you.

“Wait.” He sits back slightly. “How old are you?”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously. “Nineteen.”

His eyebrows lift.

“You’re a freshman?”

“…Yes?”

“I thought you were at least a sophomore.”

You stare at him. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he says quickly. “You just seem more put together than freshmen usually are.”

You burst out laughing.

“That’s actually insane.”

“What?”

“I cried in my car yesterday.”

“Okay, but emotionally falling apart and academic responsibility are different things.”

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself.

“What about you?”

“I’m twenty-one.”

“Oh my God.”

Anton immediately looks concerned. “What?”

“You’re old.”

He stares at you in disbelief.

“Old?”

“You’re basically ancient.”

“I’m two years older than you!”

“That’s a whole lifetime in college years.”

Anton laughs loudly enough that a couple nearby glances over briefly.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“You’re elderly.”

“You’re nineteen.”

“And thriving.”

“You ate half a scone today.”

“That’s unrelated.”

The two of you continue bickering lightly even after the food arrives, the steam from the bowls curling warmly into the air between you. Also, the pho is incredible.

You realize halfway through eating that this is probably the first actual meal you’ve had in days where you weren’t multitasking, studying, or stressing about something. You’re just… sitting there.

Talking.

Laughing.

Existing beside someone who makes everything feel lighter somehow.

At one point, Anton catches you looking suspiciously emotional over the broth.

“…Are you okay?”

You blink quickly. “Yeah.”

“You look like you’re having a spiritual experience.”

“This soup changed my life.”

“There she is,” he says softly again, smiling when you laugh.

Eventually, after nearly two hours of talking without either of you realizing how much time had passed, the bill finally arrives. You reach for it immediately.

Anton reaches faster.

“Nope.”

“What do you mean, ‘nope?’”

“I’m paying.”

“You literally bought me coffee this morning too.”

“And?”

“And I can pay for my own food.”

“I know you can.”

“Then let me.”

Anton looks at you for a second before smiling slightly.

“I invited you.”

“So?”

“So I’m paying.”

You narrow your eyes. “This feels sexist somehow.”

He laughs quietly. “You can buy my coffee next time.”

The second the words leave his mouth, both of you pause slightly.

Next time.

Your stomach flips again.

Anton seems to realize what he implied too because he suddenly looks shy again, rubbing the back of his neck lightly.

“If you want,” he adds quickly.

You smile before you can stop yourself.

“I want.”

The relief on his face is weirdly cute.

By the time the two of you finally leave, Ms. Minh waves dramatically from behind the counter.

“Don’t disappear again, Anton!”

“I won’t!” he calls back while laughing.

Then, quieter as the two of you step outside into the cold air again, he reaches over naturally to take the container holding your leftovers from your hands.

“You don’t have to carry everything all the time,” you point out.

“I know.”

“You say that every time.”

“And yet I’m still carrying it.”

You roll your eyes, though your smile gives you away completely. Anton opens the car door for you again once you reach the parking lot. And this time, when you slide into the passenger seat, it doesn’t feel unfamiliar anymore.

It feels easy.

Like maybe, somehow, you were already getting used to him.

- 🩶 -

The drive back to campus feels softer somehow.

Maybe it’s because you’re warm now, full for the first time all day, or maybe it’s because somewhere between the pho and Anton accidentally calling you funny three separate times, you stopped feeling nervous around him.

The city lights blur past outside the windows while quiet music hums through the speakers again. And somehow, despite spending almost the entire day together already, neither of you seems tired of talking yet.

Anton drives with one hand resting loosely on the steering wheel while the other taps lightly against his knee.

“So,” he says after a moment, glancing over briefly, “what were you like in high school?”

You laugh immediately.

“Oh, awful.”

“That answer came out way too fast.”

“I’m serious. I was painfully awkward.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You should.” You sink further into the passenger seat dramatically. “I spent most of high school either studying or hiding in the library.”

Anton smiles slightly. “That sounds kind of nice actually.”

“No, it wasn’t. I had, like, three friends.”

“That’s a normal amount of friends.”

“One of them was my cousin.”

“That still counts.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re being very generous.”

“Well,” he says thoughtfully, “you don’t seem awkward to me.”

You stare at him. Then immediately look out the window so he doesn’t see your face heating up again.

“That’s because you met me during an emotional crisis,” you mumble. “My personality was distracted.”

Anton laughs softly beside you.

“What about you?” you ask after a second. “What were you like in high school?”

He groans quietly.

“Oh no. This feels dangerous.”

“That bad?”

“I was…” He pauses like he’s embarrassed already. “Annoyingly involved in everything.”

You blink. “What does that mean?”

“I did swimming, did student council for one year, worked part-time, and somehow still convinced myself I had free time.”

You stare at him in disbelief.

“So you were one of those people.”

“Unfortunately.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“I was productive.”

“You were unbearable.”

Anton laughs louder at that, shaking his head.

“You know,” he says, “I actually think I was way more awkward back then than I am now.”

“I don’t believe that either.”

“No, seriously.” He smiles to himself slightly. “I used to get nervous ordering food.”

You turn toward him immediately. “Wait, really?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s actually kind of adorable.”

The second the word leaves your mouth, Anton glances over at you. And suddenly the atmosphere changes slightly. Not bad. Just quieter.

Softer.

You immediately look down at your lap.

“Well,” you mumble awkwardly, “not adorable. That’s a weird word.”

“No,” Anton says gently. “I liked it.”

Your stomach flips so hard it almost hurts. You decide right then and there that eye contact is no longer an option. Thankfully, Anton rescues you both by continuing the conversation.

He tells you about growing up with his younger sister constantly stealing his hoodies and how his mom used to force him to bring snacks “for sharing” every day in middle school. You tell him about your brother convincing you as a kid that swallowing watermelon seeds would make one grow in your stomach.

“You believed that?”

“I was seven.”

“That’s fair.”

“You thought quicksand would be a bigger issue than it actually was.”

Anton points at you immediately. “Okay, but everybody did.”

You grin. By the time the dorm building finally comes into view, you almost feel disappointed. Again. Which honestly seems like it’s becoming a pattern around him.

Anton parks near the entrance before getting out first automatically. The second you reach for your leftovers and bag, he’s already opening your door.

“You know,” you say as you climb out, “I am physically capable of carrying things.”

“I know.”

“And yet.”

“And yet,” he repeats simply, taking your bag from you anyway.

You try not to smile too hard while walking beside him toward the dorm building. The night air is colder now than before, enough that your shoulders hunch slightly beneath your sweater as you climb the stairs together.

“You cold?” Anton asks immediately.

“I’m okay.”

“That wasn’t really a convincing answer.”

“I’m surviving.”

He looks like he wants to argue with you about it, but instead he just walks a little closer beside you.

When you finally reach the dorm entrance, you stop to dig through your bag for your keys. Or at least, you try to. Before you can unzip the pocket fully, Anton speaks.

“Wait.”

WHAT WOULD I DO - STRAWBERRY GUY | PLAYING NOW

You look up.

Something in his voice sounds different. Nervous.

Anton still has your leftovers in one hand, but the other rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck while he looks anywhere except directly at you for a second.

“Oh,” you say softly. “What?”

For a moment, he doesn’t answer immediately. Which is unusual for him. Then finally, after taking a small breath, he looks at you properly.

“I know this probably sounds kind of insane,” he says carefully, “because we literally just met yesterday…”

Your heartbeat starts speeding up instantly.

“But…” He laughs nervously under his breath. “I don’t know. I really like being around you.”

You stare at him quietly. Anton shifts his weight slightly, obviously trying to figure out how to phrase whatever he’s thinking.

“And I’m not trying to put pressure on you or make things weird,” he says quickly. “I just—”

He pauses.

Then softer:

“I think this could actually go somewhere.”

Your chest tightens. The hallway suddenly feels way too warm.

Anton glances down briefly before continuing, quieter now.

“So I was wondering if maybe…” He smiles nervously. “You’d want to date? Not officially or anything right now. No labels. I just mean…” He shrugs awkwardly. “Us. Seeing where this goes.”

For a second, all you can do is look at him.

At the way nervousness had softened his expression completely. At the way he was clearly trying so hard not to overwhelm you. At the fact that despite being confident enough to approach you in a parking lot, he still looked genuinely anxious waiting for your answer.

And somehow, that’s the thing that settles your nerves most. Because Anton wasn’t smooth. He wasn’t playing games. He was just honest.

“I…” You laugh softly out of pure nerves before looking down for a second. “I’ve actually never really done this before.”

Anton’s expression softens immediately.

“That’s okay.”

“No, I mean really.” You glance back up at him. “Like… I’ve never dated anyone.”

For a split second, he looks surprised. Not judgmental. Just surprised. Then the smallest smile appears on his face.

“Well,” he says gently, “we can figure it out together."

You laugh softly. And the second you do, some of the tension leaves his shoulders too.

“I’d like to try,” you admit finally, your voice quieter now. “With you.”

The way his face changes at that answer makes your heart stutter completely. Not dramatic. Not overconfident. Just… genuinely happy.

“Yeah?” he asks softly.

You nod once.

“Yeah.”

Anton smiles then — warm and relieved and a little disbelieving all at once.

And standing there outside your dorm building under flickering hallway lights with your leftovers in his hands and your anatomy notes shoved awkwardly in your bag, you realize something very suddenly:

Maybe your car breaking down wasn't bad luck at all.

—

TAGLIST: @oncyanii @rickittys @taetaebambi @rixieisfreaky @kingsoowolves @letterstohyeon

[antqnh0lic]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[eliess]

Jeon Jungkook: search by trope

I’ve wanted to do this for a while, so here it is! It took some time, but it was necessary for me to better organise everything. It will keep being updated. I hope it can help anyone find fics they like. Also, I would like to thank all those amazing authors for giving us such amazing stories! Happy reading🫶🏾

Minors don’t interact please!

angst

arranged marriage au

best friend’s brother au

bodyguard au

brother’s best friend au

ceo au

cheating au

college au

coworkers to lovers au

enemies to lovers au

established relationship au

exes to lovers au

fake dating au

fake marriage au

fantasy au

fluff

forbidden au

friends to lovers au

friends with benefits to lovers au

hospital au

idiots to lovers au

idol au

parents au

pregnancy au

roommates au

single parent au

smut

soulmates au

spider-man au

strangers to lovers au

unrequited love

[antqnh0lic]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[astrogirlangel]

my view every morning 🤭

[astrogirlangel]

so pretty🎀

[kgvs]

ANTON 'II' Trailer : Still Dreaming

[antqnh0lic]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[brachiodilatte]

he looks so good in a white tank top and the necklace is pretty and the bracelet is pretty and his hair is adorable and his face is so beautiful and

[cakezerose]

಄ sugar spice and everything worse

in which.. you've been working at wichu bakery for a while, rotating between the register and cleaning the store. now, one of your only coworkers quit and theres no pâtissier. thank god they were able to find a new hire! right?

genre: fake text, smau, fluff, cute, coworkers to lovers trope, 3 parts warning: inaccurate timestamps! + may be unfunny -_-

ft: riize, xnghan, ive's rei, cortis's james & illit's moka

lee anton x fem reader

light mode - ANTON pov

dark mode - YN pov

next...

🍰 pre-orders : none yet! comment to be added to the tag list ! :3

author note: HELLOOOO gulp this is my first smau!! keeping it short and simple! hope u guys enjoy this one :3 next update will possibly be in a couple of days. hehe ENJOYY :DDD (,,>﹏<,,)

@cakezerose

[pixigirl]

Change a single letter and change the word game

I decided this would be fun. So reblog with a new word and see how long we can make it.

The starting word is…

Lady

[thatsheepwithagun]

Lads

[missing-a-coffee-mug-deactivate]

Dads

[deephasoceanmagic-deactivated20]

Days

[love-in-the-time-of-waffles]

Gays

[fleur-de-jasmin-fdj]

Rays

[fantasy-pens]

Raps

[queerthalia]

Yaps

[holi-holy]

saps

[chronicallylatetotheparty]

maps

[khunned]

mass

[amiraculousplatypus]

moss

[pawsitivelymiraculous]

Boss

[moonlitceleste]

toss

[rhubarberpie]

loss

[vroomtaka]

lost

[lilcoffeegirl123]

list

[mayoiayasep]

fist

[microwaveabl]

fast

[the-racoon-in-your-back-garden]

vast

[pitrsattabhaadmeinjaa]

mast

[stargazing-at-the-moon-deactiva]

mist

[karleyn]

Most

[iris-collects]

Host

[stitch-n-time]

Hose

[elf-kid2]

Hope

[dalniente]

Nope

[killinguwithumbrellas]

Nose

[buginateacup]

Pose

[elf-kid2]

Post

[lynati]

Port

[lylilorden]

Sort

[flaim-ita]

Sore

[my-insanity-is-an-artform]

Core

[theraineofchaos]

Cone

[dads-back-from-the-store]

cove

[the-dark-king-noah]

cave

[nick-is-kinda-dum]

Rave

[garlic-bread-addicted-vampire]

Rate

[mrandomshitsandwhich-deactivate]

Rats

[ohmarjorie]

Bats

[bigtop-skies]

Bets

[galvantual-moved-deactivated202]

Bees

[oh-hey-its-harry-the-ghostie-boi]

been

[fluxite]

Meen!

[vivid-mercury]

mean

[microwaveabl]

lean

[cade-the-god]

jean

[system-reset]

bean

[smol-satan]

beam 

[coffeelovinggayidiot]

Team

[chronologicallyorderedbones]

Teal

[infinitevoidofnoodles]

Tell

[stars-aligning-deactivated20210]

Sell

[hotchocolatedictator]

Seal

[drunk-on-inejs-laughter]

Seat

[burn-like-starss]

Meat

[jeanjacket-lesbian-deactivated2]

Beat

[loverlighted]

Best

[crescentmp3]

Test

[susie-heart]

Zest

[bluehairedemon]

Nest

[imaginetheresanoriginalnamehere]

Neat

[alyssumlovesthecosmere]

Beat

[prismatic-bell]

Bent

[randomslasher]

rent

[ladyinsertnamehere]

Sent

[forwant-ofwit]

Send

[ladyinsertnamehere]

Mend!

[toygirly]

Fend

[thesexiestselkie]

Find

[eat-the-door-to-the-v0id-deacti]

mind

[just-trans-thoughts]

mint

[ratbastard42]

tint

[catbxy]

tilt

[b00bconnoisseur]

wilt

[phoenixdellaverita]

Will

[ghost-postables]

Well

[colorfulcandyskulls]

Welt

[thedistantstarsawaiting]

Melt

[nonbinary-dinosaur7]

Meld

[shalkapilled]

Mold

[measured-robshearfan]

Hold

[opo55omrevolution]

Cold

[achillbeing]

Colt

[mildlybizarrecorvid]

Bolt

[ray-goes-array]

belt

[zelovinit]

felt

[spookthelilguy]

fell

[akeru-nakahara143]

bell

[harbinger-of-silly]

ball

[goldenbunny30]

Wall

[queerbookbitch]

well

[xombilog]

Cell

[mikeandwillsweddingofficiant]

hell

[p3rpetual-moti0n]

hall

[babylon-butterfly]

hail

[mochachanpastaway-deactivated20]

bail

[fawnedupon]

fail

[meeoowchi]

mail

[oncyanii]

jail

[oncyanii]

👹👹👹👹👹👹Fics writers I invoke them 👹👹👹👹👹👹

Fic where you are a famous music producer and they call you from Korea for a job offer with the riize group but more from the shadows not directly with them then they put you with yoonsang since he speaks English then when they are working and all that he tells you about his son since he is a great admirer of your work and your but he does not tell you his no, see that he belongs to the group with which you are working with. Days after getting closer thanks to work they decide to go to dinner with his wife and end up showing tea to his eldest son ANTON 🔝 and you are delighted with how handsome he is and you make a little joke about introducing him to him. Meanwhile, Anton He is dying to see you since he is a big fan since almost your beginnings in music and has followed your career of being you a great inspiration for him. (apart from the fact that he has a great crush on you since you are the most beautiful and talented girl in his eyes) Then when he gives himself that you are the one who is working with his father for the new comback he begs him to introduce you so he can see you up close and in the end he ends up agreeing and when he finally meets you he is so delighted that he does everything to See you, whether it's forcing his father to take him with him to the studio, going to see him just because he wants to "know how he is" bring them food with the excuse that he has bread to stay healthy but in reality everything is to be able to see you, in the end he dares to ask for your phone and invites you out. The rest is up to anyone who wants to write a mega long fic about this 😭

[rinislostinanotherplanet]

have a baby with me ft anton lee ᶻ𝗓𐰁.ᐟ

Contains: idolbf!anton x gf!reader, female pronouns used. lowercase intended. it’s kinda angsty asf. inspired by daniel caesar’s “have a baby (with me)” i recommend you listen it while reading! Synopsis: anton and you have been together for a little over 4 years. you’ve shared laughs with each other, meals, feelings and now a home. but with him being an idol sometimes the distance can get to you naturally. both you are madly in love and don’t want the relationship to end. refusing to let go of you, anton constructs the idea of having a baby. Warnings: p in v, foreplay, a lot of breathing and talking, crying, breast play, oral (m receiving), riding, a lot of descriptions of being in love, and struggles with long distance.

your relationship with anton didn’t start out complicated.

it was easy, at first.

you met in a way that didn’t feel like it would turn into anything serious, just a coincidence stretched into late-night conversations, then into something softer, something steady. he wasn’t anton to you back then, not really. just…him. quiet, a little reserved, but always listening, like whatever you said mattered more than anything else in the room.

you fell into it. slowly. then all at once.

four years later, it doesn’t feel like something you fell into anymore.

it feels like something you’ve been holding together.

you’ve shared everything your routines, your space, the kind of silence that only comes when you know someone too well. your apartment doesn’t feel like yours or his, just yours together. his hoodie draped over the back of a chair, your things tucked into corners he made space for without asking.

it should feel stable. it should feel enough. but lately it doesn’t.

it’s small things at first.

missed calls.

shorter replies.

the way he comes home and looks like he’s already somewhere else.

you notice it in the quiet.

in the way he still holds your hand, but not as tightly.

in the way he sits next to you, but there’s distance anyway something you can’t close no matter how close you get.

you try not to say anything. you tell yourself it’s his schedule. his work. the constant travel, the pressure, the exhaustion.

you understand. you always have. but understanding doesn’t stop the feeling. the one that settles in your chest when you look at him and think

he’s already leaving.

—

“you’re quiet.”

his voice pulls you back.

you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, hands resting in your lap, staring at nothing in particular. he’s behind you somewhere. you can feel it without turning around.

you shrug slightly. “just tired.” it’s not convincing. you know it isn’t.

he knows it isn’t.

the mattress dips as he sits down, the space behind you shifting with his weight.

“you’ve been like this for a while.”

you let out a small breath. “…so have you.”

silence. thick. uncomfortable.

you don’t turn around.

you’re not sure you want to see his face when you say it.

“you’re not really here anymore,” you add quietly.

that lands. you can feel it in the way he stills.

for a second, neither of you says anything. and then-

“i am.”

you almost laugh. not because it’s funny. because it’s not.

“you’re not,” you say, softer this time. “not really.”

another pause. longer.

he shifts behind you, closer now. “you think i want this?” he asks.

you frown slightly, finally turning your head just enough to glance at him. “…want what?”

“this distance.”

his voice is low. controlled. but there’s something under it something tighter than usual.

you study him for a moment. he looks tired. not just physically. something deeper. maybe he's tired of this relationship.

“then why does it feel like you’re okay with it?” you ask.

he doesn’t answer right away. his gaze drops, then lifts again, like he’s trying to find the right words and not quite getting there.

“because i don’t know how to fix it,” he says finally.

that, that hurts more than you expect.

you swallow, looking away again. “maybe you can’t.” you don’t mean for it to sound like that. like an ending. but it does.

and he hears it.

you feel his hand close around your wrist before you can pull too far into your own thoughts. not tight. just enough to stop you.

“don’t say that.”

you glance down at his hand, then back at him.

“…why not?”

his jaw tightens slightly. “because that’s not what this is.” he says

“then what is it?” you press. your voice is still quiet.

but there’s something breaking through now.

“because it feels like we’re just waiting,” you add. “for something to end.” that’s when it shifts.

you see it.

the moment something in his expression hardens not anger, not exactly, but something more desperate. more urgent.

he lets go of your wrist, but only to move closer, his presence suddenly overwhelming in the small space. “then don’t let it end,” he says.

you blink, thrown off by the sudden intensity.

“…that’s not just up to me.”

“it can be.”

you shake your head slightly, confused now. “anton—”

“stay.” the word cuts through everything.

you stare at him. “…i am staying.” you respond.

“no,” he says quickly, like that’s not what he meant. “i mean stay. with me.”

your brows pull together. “i am with you.”

he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, frustrated in a way you don’t see often. “you’re already halfway out,” he mutters.

that hits something in you.

“because it feels like you are,” you shoot back.

silence crashes down again.

he looks at you like he’s running out of time.

like something is slipping, and he’s trying to grab onto it with whatever he can. and then

he says it.

“have a baby with me.”

you freeze. completely. like your brain just…stops.

“…what?” it comes out barely above a whisper.

he doesn’t look away. doesn’t take it back. if anything, he leans into it.

“have a baby with me,” he repeats, quieter this time. “before you decide to leave.” your chest tightens.

“i’m not—”

“you are,” he cuts in. “maybe not right now. but you will.”

you stare at him, trying to process this, trying to understand how the conversation even got here.

“…anton, that’s not-”

“we don’t have time to fix everything,” he continues, voice low, almost rushed now. “we don’t have time to make it perfect.”

your heart starts beating faster, not in a good way.

“then what are you saying?” you ask.

you already know. you just need to hear it. his gaze doesn’t waver.

“we can make something that stays.”

the words settle heavy between you. you feel it then. clear. unavoidable.

this isn’t about love. not entirely. this is about holding on.

about not letting you go even if it means tying you to him in a way that can’t be undone.

you take a slow step back. “…you think that’s a solution?” you ask.

his expression flickers. just for a second.

“i think it’s something real,” he says.

you shake your head slightly, breath unsteady now.

“or something permanent,” you reply.

another silence. this one louder than all the others. and for the first time in four years you don’t know if you’re looking at the person you fell in love with, or someone who’s just afraid of losing you.

and doesn’t care how he keeps you. even if it's selfish, he wants a part of your love and your relationship to still be there, even if your time with each other has reached its limit.

-

you don’t move at first.

it’s like your body hasn’t caught up to what he just said. the room feels smaller. quieter. too quiet.

“…that’s not fair,” you say finally, your voice unsteady in a way you hate.

his expression tightens. “i’m not trying to be fair.”

“then what are you trying to be?” you ask, a little sharper now. “because this this isn’t you.”

“it is,” he says, almost immediately. “you just don’t like it.”

you let out a breath, shaking your head. “no, i don’t,” you admit. “because it sounds like you’re trying to-” you stop yourself.

but he already knows. “trap you?” he finishes quietly.

you don’t answer. you don’t have to. the silence does it for you.

his jaw clenches, something flickering across his face hurt, maybe. frustration. something deeper that he doesn’t say out loud.

“that’s not what i’m doing,” he mutters.

“then what is it?” you press, your voice softer now but no less firm. “because it doesn’t sound like love, anton. it sounds like you’re scared.”

that hits. you see it. the way he exhales, slower this time, like the air got heavier. “of course i’m scared,” he says.

that makes you pause. because he doesn’t deny it. doesn’t hide it.

he steps closer again, not rushed, but deliberate like he’s closing a distance he can’t stand anymore. “you think i don’t see it?” he continues, quieter now. “the way you look at me lately. like you’re already preparing to leave.”

your chest tightens. “…because it feels like you are.” you quietly say

“i’m not leaving,” he says.

“not physically,” you reply. “but you’re not here either.”

another silence. thick. you’re so close now you can feel it the tension, the pull, the way neither of you is stepping back even though maybe you should.

his voice drops when he speaks again. “then don’t go.”

it’s softer this time. not demanding. not desperate in the same sharp way as before. just…honest.

you look at him. really look at him. and for a second, all the frustration, all the distance, all the confusion it blurs.

because underneath it, it’s still him. the same person you fell for.

the same person who learned your habits, your moods, the way you take your coffee, the way you go quiet when something’s wrong.

you swallow. “…you’re making it hard,” you admit.

his gaze flickers. “good.”

you almost laugh at that. “…you’re unbelievable.”

“you stayed,” he replies.

your breath catches slightly. because he’s right. you did. you’re still here. (oh y/n you are pretty little bird)

standing in front of him. arguing, yes, but not walking away. not yet. his hand lifts slowly, hesitantly, for once, and brushes lightly against your arm. like he’s not sure if you’ll pull away. you don’t.

your eyes drop to the movement, then back up to his face. there’s something different now. less sharp. more…uncertain.

like he’s waiting for you.

“…this doesn’t fix anything,” you say quietly.

“i know.”

“and i’m still mad at you.”

“i know that too.”

a pause. your heart is beating faster now, for reasons you don’t want to unpack.

his voice is steady. but softer than before.

you nod once. slow. like you’re agreeing to something unspoken.

the space between you feels smaller with every second. your hand moves before you fully think about it resting lightly against his chest, like you need something to ground yourself.

he stills. completely. his eyes drop to your hand, then back to your face.

“…you’re still here,” he murmurs. you don’t answer. you don’t need to. because you are. and he knows it.

his hand comes up, slower this time, more careful resting against your wrist, not holding, just…there. giving you the chance to pull away.

you don’t. your breath catches slightly as he leans in. not fast. not rushed. like he’s giving you time to stop him. to change your mind. you don’t.

your eyes flick to his lips for half a second. that’s all it takes. because the next moment he closes the distance. and you let him.

his lips now fully meet yours.

and when his lips brushed yours, it was soft. tentative, at first like he was fully expecting you to push him away.

your eyes fluttered shut the moment anton deepened the kiss, tilting his head slightly to really kiss you his hand slid from your hand to your jaw, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek as his mouth moved against yours.

your breath hitched as he parted your lips, his tongue brushing carefully against yours. anton’s other hand drifted down, his fingertips hovering your thigh before settling there, grounding you.

it was you who pulled back for air. but anton remained close, his lips still ghosting yours. both of you catching breath in the shallow space between.

you can feel his chest against yours. broad and strong but it didn’t stop the way his heart was thudding from being visible. both hearts now beating like a metronome.

anton had this look of desperation on him. like he would genuinely drop dead if he couldn’t be close to you. like this body would turn cold and blue.

“anton…” your voice was barely a whisper.

his hand was still on your face, still observing every little detail on your face. “mhm tell me baby” he said.

anton found his lips back on to yours again, attaching his lips once again against yours. this time was slower but somehow deeper than before, almost pushing you back against the headboard

you gasped a little into the kiss whether from surprise or how good the kiss felt but anton took this opening to slide his tongue past your lips.

you gripped his shirt instinctively, fingers curling tight as his hand that rested on your cheek moved down to your waist. anton held you like he wanted to feel what it's like to have your bodies fit like a puzzle. his kisses trailed lower along your jaw, beneath your ear. earning soft moans from you.

“anton…please anton“ you begged.

anton hummed into your skin, lips brushing along your collarbones. “tell me baby. what do you need?” he whispered against your lips, catching it again. your hand tightened around his shirt. you wanted to tell him what you want but nothing came to mind. you didn’t even know what exactly you wanted from him but you knew whatever he gave you would take it.

but then anton’s tongue flicked just under your jaw again, and you throw your head back on instinct, lips parting around a quiet breath. your chest rose against him and he knew you needed this as much him.

“i’ll give you whatever you need baby. is it about the baby thing?” he added, hand slipping further up your thigh and into your shirt, pushing the fabric along. “cuz i can make you a mommy.”

your heart hammered in your chest out of at the idea but it was because of how much you wanted him forever too. it was overshadowed by the way his voice dragged through your spine in that low and coaxing manner. anton pulled back just enough to look at you eyes half-lidded and lips flushed and slick from the kissing.

“i want our love to be evident,” he said. you stared down at him, breathless and torn between every other consequence of this and the fact you’d both to anything to be with each other. “let’s have a baby.”

with that anton kissed you again harder and messier this time. his warm hands rested on your waist. leaning against the headboard now and pulling you into his lap, no warning this time.

and you? you simply went, too easily. legs sliding around his hips as you settled over him. it’s not the fact that you were weaker than him physically but something about him made everything else in you melt away. the two of you barely breathing now, mouths locked in a kiss.

you could feel anton’s breath against your skin, desperate to keep kissing you and swallowing the soft sound you made when his lips moved. your arms moved to wrap around his neck, fingers curled in his hair, tugged slightly, and he groaned.

“yn,” and then you felt his hands ghost beneath the hem of your silk cami.

you didn’t answer him. not with words. instead, your hands reach for the hem yourself.

and you pulled your pj top up and over, discarding it behind you on the carpet. anton’s breath hitched at the view before him. you sitting on his lap, shirtless with an innocent, simple, icy blue bra on, it’s not something foreign to him but that doesn’t make it any less special. your cleavage pushed up nicely and anton had to fight the urge to grab them in his hands.

anton felt the adrenaline rushing down his body to his cock, as it hardened. like he was learning your all over again.

“i want everything with you anton,” you finally said something, cheeks reddened and flushed at how honest you were. “so i agree, let’s have a baby as a souvenir of our love.”

anton froze for a second, like he was making sure he’d heard you right despite just sharing an intimate moment of kissing a few moments earlier. his eyes searched your face. “really?” he he asked, with a sense of joy and warmth in his tone.

you nodded, giving him reassurance.

you swore anton rolled his eyes for a split second before his lips was back on yours. the kiss all but and sloppy. his hands skimmed up your waists before sliding over your covered breasts, cupping it. his fingers gently kneaded into your skin through the fabric.

not being able to contain it anymore, anton reached behind to the hook of your bra, unhooking it, pulling the straps down and throwing it somewhere. his eyes filled with lust as he sees your boobs free. he bent just enough to wrap his mouth around your nipple. your mouth immediately dropped in a whine, back arching slightly in pleasure. your fingers tugged around his hair, almost pushing him deeper against your tit. “ah… toni…baby..” you moaned, tugging on your bottom lip.

anton hummed against your skin, rolling his tongue around it and sucking it in his mouth like a pacifier. his other hand massaged and fondled with your other tit rolling your perky nipple between the pads of his fingers. “you are so beautiful my love” he mumbled against your skin. leaving a gentle kiss before movint to the other boob.

your arms tightened around his neck as you shifted slightly in his lap, instinct guiding you before you even could grasp what you were doing. the motion was slow but enough for you to feel how warm and hard anton was beneath you.

his breath stuttered, fingers tightening around your tit. “fuck baby,” he murmured, tongue lapping around your bud. you rocked into him, pressing your clothed pussy against his growing tent. you could feel the way his body tensed but you didn’t stop.

anton’s hands guided your hips, making sure he could feel every drag of your pussy against his cock. “i need you toni,” you moaned, burying your face into his locks. your bodies moved together in sync as anton too, pressed himself hard against you.

he pulled his mouth away from your tits with a pop, a string of saliva connecting your perky nipple and his bottom lip. anton tipped his head back slightly, not being able to contain his urge any longer.

he hooked his fingers around the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head in a swift motion roughly tossing it somewhere on the couch. he was all warm skin and lean muscle. your hands hovered for a second then settled on his chest, fingers splaying over his heart.

it was racing.

just like yours.

both hearts still beating like a metronome, in sync like a justin song.

anton leaned in again, his forehead pressing to yours. “you are my angel, you know that?.” he said, his voice low and soft like always. you nodded, swallowing hard.

anton helped you just enough your knees pressing into the cushions as you rose slightly from his lap. his hands worked quickly, slipping beneath the waistband of your anton and guiding the fabric down your hips.

and then his hands were on your thighs again, pulling you back on his lap, only with your panties on. icy blue matching your bra. god you always knew how to please him.

anton shifted slightly to pull his pants down and you gasped at the sight of his hardened cock, throbbing and twitching. he’s huge. he seemed a lot bigger than the last you had sex. thick and long and slightly curved. he bit his bottom lip as he noticed you staring.

anton wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, using the head to move your panties just enough to line the head of his cock up with your entrance. but before he could sink your hips down, you wrapped your hands around his wrists. you stop and you mutter “wait toni i wanna give you something too.”

you settled on your knees between his legs, using your hands on his knees to push his legs apart a little wider. you glanced up at anton through your lashes watching the way his breath hitched, his eyes locked on you.

the tip glistened with pre-cum as he gave his cock a few slow strokes before letting it go, allowing it to twitch in the air between you. slowly, you wrapped your hands around his shaft, giving it a few light squeezes before leaning forward, your tongue daring out to lick a bead of pre-cum from the tip of his cock. anton let out a ragged breath, his hands hovered at his sides. his hands softly grabbing your head. petting your hair as he lets out soft whimpers.

“oh baby fuck…”

you wrapped your lips around the head of his hard cock, rolling your tongue across the tip to lick clean his precum before bobbing your head back and forth on his cock. the look on anton’s face the way he’s slightly flushed and swallowing the lump in his throat only encouraged you to continue.

your cheeks hollowed as you worked on sucking him, taking anton’s cock as deep in your mouth as you could. you can feel his pulse throbbing against your tongue. he watched you through hooded eyes, chest rising and falling hard. “baby..” he muttered, half a warning, half a plea.

anton eventually threaded his fingers through your hair, gripping it slightly harder as he started to thrust his hips shallowly into your mouth. “fuck, babe, take it all…” you shut your eyes tightly as he forced more of his thick cock past your lips.

at one point, anton held your head still and used your mouth for leverage as he fucked your throat, his head thrown back against the couch, balls tightened at the feeling of your gags. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum, pretty,” he moaned, groaning. he fucked your mouth like a pussy.

you nodded and tried to relax your throat, gripping and digging your nails into his skin. you slipped anton’s cock out of your mouth to wrap your hands around his shaft once again, moving them back and forth jerking him off. you lolled and rolled your tongue around the bulbous head of his cock, swiping at the sensitive slit.

“mmhm,” you hummed, looking up to anton who had his lips parted slightly, breathing shallow in uneven rhythms. you could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers curled tighter around your roots.

“fuck, baby, im gonna-im gonna” anton stuttered as he felt himself getting close. he groaned thick ropes of his cum spurted inside of your mouth, coating it white. anton threw his head back in pleasure to catch his breath before looking down at you lips smeared with spit and white beads of his cum. you didn’t wipe it off, instead, you darted your lips out to lick and clean the remaining liquid around your mouth before swallowing him cum.

“was it good?” you inquired your the words muffled behind the back of your hand as you tried to hide your mouth. your cheeks were hot and red, eyes flicking anywhere but his.

anton blinked, still catching his breath his body lax but his eyes focused entirely on you. “…not just good baby,” he said, voice hoarse around the edges. he sat up a little and reached out to pull your hand away from your face. “that was fucking amazing my love,” he continued, guiding you back up on his lap once more.

“i can’t take it anymore.”

anton couldn’t take not being inside you anymore.

“ready baby??” he asked, lining the head of his flushed and wet cock against your entrance. you give a nod, and slowly, anton sank your hips down to the base. you threw your head back and let out a moan as his cock stretched your walls. “ah-toni,” with a whimper, your hips came to rest against his’. you’re so tight and wet

he lifted you off his lap before letting you slam back down on his thick cock. the head nestled against your cervix with each pounding thrust. “you’re so fucking tight, babe… how…” he moaned as his fingers dug into your hips, guiding your movements with deliberate rhythm.

you felt it in the way anton held you as he coaxed you to move the way he wanted. every shift of your body drew another moan from him, raw and guttural, his grip tightening with each roll of your hips.

“you’re always so big, toni,” you whimpered, leaning in, hands resting on his chest as you pressed your mouth to his’. anton kissed you back almost immediately, hands anchoring you to him as your lips moved together.

you felt his cock twitching and you swore it felt like he got bigger when you slipped your tongue past his lips. you knew he liked kissing a lot. you brushed your thumbs over his adam’s apple earning tha soft classic anton chuckle.

down there his cock dragged against the sensitive skin of your entrance. his thrusts weren’t messy, they were rough and solid with the curve and the head of his cock hitting the deepest parts of you. anton pushed your hips down, cock balls deep inside your tight pussy as he kept you there, burying his cock against your deeper spo

“mmh!” you moaned and nibbled on his bottom lip, drawing slight blood anton couldn’t care less. he started pounding into you, balls slapping your pussy and making wet noises across your shared bedroom. the walls must be glad to here that you guys aren’t sleeping in different spaces now. his cock only throbbed deep in your cunt with no remorse as you cried into his mouth, pressing your nipples against his’.

anton can’t get the picture out his mind. your belly swollen with his child. you guys walking around. he’d be so cocky and proud knowing he did that. the way he’d become a father. the way his love for you would branch out now. he was ready for it.

your legs were burning and your climax was so close you could taste it. you unlatched your lips from his and cried softly, the tip of your nose reddened. “toni, i-”

“me too, love, fuck-” he let out a groan that softened into a breathy whimper. “kiss me, baby.” he murmured, leaning in to capture your lips for the nth time. his thrusts were erratic rough and deep and desperate. heat coiled in your stomach, deep and pulsing.

“i can’t- i need to cum toni.” you whimpered pathetically into the kiss, nails digging his flesh as you practically started bouncing on his hard cock to chase your own high. the contracting walls of your tight cunt sent anton over the edge as well. anton moved his hands to cup your asscheeks, fondling and spreading them apart. he used it to control your movements and bouncings on his cock.

“go ahead coat my cock, babe.” he moaned and snapped his hips against you, hard and deep, in one final, powerful lurch and that was when your muscles clenched and clamped tightly around his throbbing cock as he pumped and coaxed every last drop of his warm, thick semen straight inside of your pussy. anton whimpered against your lips as he unloaded everything inside, his seed leaked from your hole.

“ah..ah.. fuck…” you whimpered as you let your body relaxed above him, pulling away from the kiss to bury your face into the crook of his neck. you could feel your anton cock pumping and throbbing as he spurted the last few drops of his cum inside.

the pleasure came in waves your cunt twitching and thighs trembling as anton slowly and tiredly jerked his hips against you, pushing his cum deeper, making sure you were to be pregnant. anton clicked his tongue and gave your ass a slight squeeze. “you’re always so wonderful, baby fuck,” he said.

as anton came down from his high, he let out a sigh and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist. he placed his chin atop of your head, breath still uneven as he held you close and still hadn’t pulled out because he just didn’t want to let go just yet.

the room was quiet, save for the soft sound of both your breathing, his fingers brushed lazy circles against your lower back. “i’m sorry i’m sorry for everything.” he said quieter than usual. you leaned more against him, cheeks warm as you nuzzled into his warmth. “it’s okay baby… all i need is your time.”

you now lay on top on his chest. his finger pushing away the hair sticking to your forehead. “i love you anton.” you mumble. “i love you more baby” he mumbles back, placing a final kiss on your hair before you both pass out.

-

the end.

re-uploaded ew its so rushed

[antqnh0lic]

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