we all get hard when our girlfriend calls us big and strong.
beware: handjob, use of the pet name 'baby' (we ALL fw it), kinda submissive anton yess
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anton loves being in control. he's always the one towering over you, making you feel small, teasing you. but deep down, you know he loves being on the receiving end even more. he can't help taking the lead whenever you're around even if it goes against what he truly wants. you know he'll only fall into his destined position if he's caught off guard.
you find him spread out on the couch watching tv, he doesn't even notice you approaching. you plop down against his side, facing him. he mumbles an absent greeting, eyes boring into the screen.
your hand goes over his clothed stomach, feeling the dents of his muscles with your palm. he glances down at your hand for a moment before looking back up. you continue feeling him up, reaching to feel his muscular chest for a split second. he's visibly distracted now. "wow." you whisper, slipping your hand under his shirt.
"how often do you work out?" you trace his abs with your fingertips. you already know the answer, but you'll do anything to hear his affected voice.
"few times a week." he breathes out.
your head rests on his chest, the bass of his pounding heart flooding your ear. your wandering hand trails to his bicep, squeezing it gently. "so big and strong," you murmur, "what are you training for?" you crane your neck to see his face. his eyes flutter shut every time you give him a squeeze. your palm leaves his arm and he regains consciousness, mouthing a 'huh' when he realizes you'd asked him something.
you reach down to grasp at his thigh through the thick fabric of his sweats, "you train legs too right? a lot of guys only focus on their upper body." you're barely doing anything and he already looks so bothered, your head rising and falling along with his heaving chest. you feel movement when his chin slightly bumps the top of your head, but can't guess if he's nodding in response or not. "you do?" you look up at him, he's staring down at your hand intensely, like he's trying to control it with his mind.
"yes." he says quietly.
your other arm that's been wedged between your body and the couch stretches to rest behind his neck, fingers threading through his hair as he lets out a loud sigh.
your hand creeps back up to his toned stomach, purposely skipping over the growing bulge in his pants. your nails drag against the hard-earned definition of his abs, you can hear his heartbeat quickening when your hand glides down, two fingers slipping just past the waistband of his sweats. they stay there unmoved, "should i start working out too? i feel like i'm missing out on something."
when he opens his mouth to respond, you press down on his lower abdomen, earning what sounds like a low groan mixed with his usual exhales. "are you okay?" you ask lightly, withdrawing your digits and patting the cloth of his waistband as if you're smoothing something.
"no, wait. please." he says hurriedly.
"please what?" if he wasn't so desperate you're sure he would have rolled his eyes. you wait for him to part his lips in response, eager to play your sound-drawing trick on him again.
but instead, his hand envelopes the back of yours. your fingers intertwined, when he guides you directly where he wants.
he retrieves his hand and leaves you in control.
"why can't you react normally when i compliment you?" you tease.
"your way of complimenting," he pauses, letting out a groan when you palm him over his sweats. "isn't normal." he finishes the sentence, his voice rising by the end of it when you grab his length.
"you don't like normal." you tug his sweats and boxers down together slowly, freeing his hard cock. he's already leaking.
he looks at you with wide eyes when you move like you're about to touch him, but then stop midway, raising your palm up to his chin.
your head motions towards your hand when he looks at you dumbfounded. you know he knows what to do, he just wants you to say it.
"spit." you order.
it's obvious he's fighting back a smile while he gathers as much saliva as he can in his mouth, before parting his lips and letting it spill into your palm.
you cup your hand, tilting it so the spit drips down his length.
you give him one long stroke, spreading the wetness so it coats his whole cock. his head instantly tips back against the couch, slack-jawed. you massage his tip with your thumb and he lets out a whimper. "you're so sensitive." you say.
he only nods. you begin stroking his length up and down slowly, earning breathy moans. "you like that?"
he huffs out a quiet 'yeah', biting his lip harshly when you grip the base of his cock. you sit up, your hand that was tangled in his hair reaching under his shirt, feeling for his abs again. "you're so hot, anton." you purr, stroking him faster. "i'd go to the gym with you if it meant you'd fuck me in the locker room."
"fuck." he ruts into your hand.
you egg him on. "it'd feel like this." your grip on him tightens, trying to simulate how you'd clench around him.
he lets out a guttural moan, bucking his hips up to fuck your hand. his eyes are screwed shut, you know he's imagining it.
you can tell he's getting close as his hips stutter, so you purposely slow the pace, stroking him lazily. "already, baby?" you coo at him.
he leaks more precum just from the gentle tone of your voice.
"please continue." he whines.
"you're so cute." you reach up to caress his cheek with your other hand while you continue to stroke him, building up the pace once again. he lets his head fall sideways to rest on your palm, absentmindedly nodding against it when you ask him another meaningless question about the gym.
you gently push his head upright, both hands now going to the base of his cock. with no warning, you duck down and lick the tip. "oh my god." he gasps. you stroke him faster, wrapping your lips around him. he whimpers, "please. faster."
you detach from him and look up to see his eyes closed as he thrusts into your hold, "tell me what you're thinking about." his cock twitches in your hands.
"i'm thinking," he's reckless now, his own hand going over yours to squeeze himself. "i'm thinking about you, fuck," he shuts his mouth to suppress a moan you're still able to hear, muffled. "us at the gym. you counting my reps, then taking me to the back." he whines when you twist around him.
"you wanna fuck me in the gym, baby? have all your friends hear?" you coo at him, or maybe at his dick when you lean down to place a sloppy kiss on the tip. his hips snap upwards, spilling his release all over your hands as he falls apart with a low moan. he's panting when you continue stroking him, milking him of everything.
he nods when you pat his thigh, telling him you're going to go get a towel to clean up his mess. "are you really gonna start going to the gym with me?" he calls out.
a new young tenant moves in to your apartment complex and you find it hard to remain professional around him, as his landlord. so why not give in?
pairing ˗ˏˋsub!tenant!anton x dom!landlord!readerˎˊ˗
word count - 10.1k
content - a little bit of a slowburn, attracted from first sight, tension, jealousy(from him), possessive!anton, mention of anton being a music producer, reader owns the apartment complex, porn w plot, p in v, unprotected sex, blowjob, cunnilingus, fingering, jerking off in front of you, orgasm control, riding, whimpering (standard), desperate/downbad anton, reader teases ALOT, dominant anton who experiences being sub for the first time with reader, finger sucking/mouth kink, begging, overstimulation, consensual sex, creampie, eats you out after sex, reader is 4 years older so both are young
warnings - reader crosses boundaries by watching him jerk off on cctv, camera installed in his bedroom(has a backstory), don't wanna spoil but what she does after seeing it maybe could fit in here but lowk dk and wouldn't know what to call it
“And this is where you’ll be staying. Look around and let me know your thoughts.”, you say with a pleasant, professional tone to the shy but almost excited potential-tenant in front of you. He begins to move further in and you close the door behind you.
Being a young female landlord isn’t easy. Oftentimes, you deal with tenants much older than you and tenants who immediately believe you’re not competent in your job thus treating you with disrespect. Oftentimes, these experiences fall in the category that is the one and only male species. However, there are some enjoyable moments.
Like right now.
Currently, you’re hosting a viewing for a man who called you at 9 am on the dot, right when your office hours open, asking eagerly for a viewing of a place you advertised online. It was odd, though. The voice sounded particularly youthful for such a place he was asking to view. Your building is fond of those in the older, early retired demographic who’d rather spend their last good 20 to 40 years of their life in complete luxury and freedom than at a nursing home. Furthermore, the town was quiet, with not much for the young, like you, to do. You couldn’t help but wonder how he could afford your listing, and if he could, what he did to afford it. Already intrigued to meet this mysterious man, you booked him in for a viewing for the day after.
What you didn’t expect was the sight that approached you at the outside of your apartment complex, where you arranged to meet up. A tall, slender but built man, dark fluffy hair that hung over his entire forehead and eyes but you could still make out his adorable brown orbs. In fact, adorable was the word you would use to sum him up. But he also looked sexy, and manly and handsome. He was wearing a blue top with blue washed jeans - a simple fit but it complimented his proportions well and was enough to make you slightly gush.
Honestly, it had been a while since you’d gotten laid, so it was no surprise that seeing this beauty of a man already got you on edge, especially in a town where your options are limited to either 55 and up year old creepy divorced men or their 20 year old trustfund sons who visit once a year. Even if nothing came from this, which you had already been expecting, the sight of him was enough to hold you off for the next 6 months.
As you watch him move around the room, go into the different rooms, your eyes couldn't resist checking him out. How was his back profile just as good as his front? Actually, nothing could beat that face, you thought, but wow. “I just wanna eat him.”, you mumble, from behind him as he walks around the main bathroom. He turns to meet your eyes and sweetly asks,
“Did you say something?”
Flustered, which makes you wonder how easy you are, you shake your head and give a small smile. What you don’t seem to notice is how he has to bite back the smile that’s basically yearning to be plastered across his face when he turns his back.
You rejourn in the living room, mentally kicking yourself for almost getting caught being absolutely down bad.
“I’ll take it.”, he says, brightly.
A part of you wishes you could lie and say you weren’t excited to now have someone like this in close proximity to you everyday. You would make any plans to come knock on his door; welcome package; signing documents; noise complaint; general check up. Maybe even set up a private security camera to just watch his beautiful face everyday, everyhour, everymin-
“So what do I need to sign? And if I could do that as soon as possible, that would be great.”, he interrupts your train of thought, saying this with that stupid, amazing, toothy smile of his.
Oh, this was about to be fun.
It had been a week since Anton moved into apartment 707. You hadn’t seen him since the day he was moving his boxes into the complex, flexing his muscles like you weren’t obviously in heat.
But Anton was struggling too.
In a desperate plea to get away from his past living situation, having walked in on his ex in their bed with her “friend”, your ad came like a message sent from heaven. A small remote town, 2 hours from where he was, seemed to be a perfect fit and escape to help him get through this brutal breakup. So when he finally met you on the day of the viewing, he felt the angels themselves were looking out for him. The warmth you exuded encapsulated him and brought his thoughts and mind to a standstill, something that was desperately needed. He was enamored by you, already just by looking at you. Your gorgeous face, gorgeous smile, gorgeous body. Now, he would be lying if he said you weren’t part of the reason why he decided to take the place.
However, Anton wasn’t able to distinguish whether his thoughts about you were because he was feeling lonely and upset and maybe just wanted a rebound, or because he genuinely might have a crush on you. But it was too early to tell and so he left it.
Or at least he tried.
But from the last day he saw you, when he was moving in, the way he noticed how your eyes hung over his body, it only made him swirl even more. How was he meant to ignore whatever he may feel for you when you were looking at him like he was your next meal? You were making this all too hard for him. Like…very hard.
Anton tries his best to not jerk off, more because he prefers the real thing and it makes him feel juvenile. However, this problem was becoming unbearable. It was, for a lack of better words, hurting. The way your oiled cleavage glistened in the sun and the curve of your hips and plump ass were hugged by your chill but chic grey pants was an image that had been burned in his mind all week. He yearned to see more of you. In the sense of your presence and…amongst other things. But enough is enough.
Coming out of the bathroom, with a towel around his neck, drying his washed hair, and a black top and black sweatpants on, he makes himself comfortable in bed. Thoughts of whether he should do this organically or with visual aid run across his mind. However, before he could decide, he’s interrupted with a triple knock on the door. He knows he's not expecting any visitors so he ignores it at first. “But what if it's her?”, he ponders.
With that, he pounces out of bed, basically runs to the door, almost tripping in the process, readjusts his pants, thinks of grannies, and checks the peephole. And he is granted another blessing.
Clearing his throat, ruffling his still dripping wet hair in the mirror on the wall beside, he opens the door with a wide smile.
You’re wearing a black tight fitted pantsuit trailed with white stitching, with a blazer that dug deep down your chest, accentuating your cleavage. Grannies aren’t doing shit for his dick right now.
“I come bearing gifts. Late welcome gifts, that is.”, you chant, words almost taken from you with how unbearably hot he looks. He, somehow, looks better than the first two times you saw him, which you definitely did not think was possible. Refreshed but also maybe tired? Like something has been taking up his energy.
“Oh, thank you. I read about this on the ad; I thought maybe you’d forgotten about me.”, he jokes, subtly attempting to be bold.
It's clear he doesn't know he's dealing with the boldest of them all.
“I could never forget about you.”, you say, with a charm and handing the gift towards him. One of your favourite things about you is that when you see even a little bit of an opening, you don't miss. Closed mouths don’t get fed. And with Anton’s subtly surprised expression, you reckon you've started eating.
This only eggs him on to do what he's been wanting to from when he saw you through the peephole.
“Do you wanna come in? You know, since you came all this way to give me this gift.”, he asks, rubbing the back of his neck under the damp towel. This only gets more intense as you wait to answer, deliberately, silence hanging in the air. He’s wondering if he completely misread the situation, if he sounds likes a pervert who only wants to bang his landlord-
“Sure. Though, I have to go after like an hour.”
Breathing out an imaginary exhale, he goes to the side to let you in. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to look down, focusing on the way your hips sway and how great your ass looks in those pants.
When you step inside, you take in the minimalistically decorated living space, grey toned kitchen, and the displays of action figures and built lego projects on the tv stand.
“Wow, you've really done up the place in such a short amount of time. Are you an interior designer or something?”, you ask, as you sit down on the kitchen chair.
Your eyes follow him positioning himself on the opposite side of the counter, facing you then asking if you want coffee. As he starts to make it, per your answer, he starts to answer your question.
“I just really like decorating my space and making it feel comfortable. But I have my own business.”
“Oh really? In what?”
“Music. I produce beats and sell them to artists.”
Of all things he could’ve said, you definitely were not expecting that.
You two continue talking about professions, and how you both got into your industries, filling in the time for the coffee to be ready. Eventually, he turns around and places your cup in front of you and takes the opposite seat then starts drinking his own.
“You know, and I hope it’s not callous of me to say this, but I did wonder what you did for a living to be able to pay for this place. It’s just that the certain demographic here are people who spend money aimlessly because they have so much of it. And the only young people I see that do the same here are usually their children.”, you explain, chuckling lightly at the end.
Even though it's slight, your smile is enough for Anton to, unexpectedly to him, blush.
“I’ve never worked with any big shots or household names, but it's enough to pay the bills. Though, I did have to cut into my savings a little for this place, but it seemed worth it.”
“I had no idea that a town with so little to do and an average population of wealthy elders would be so appealing for young adults. Well, of course excluding young adult landlords.”
He let out a laugh in the form of a huff. He isn’t sure why, but Anton feels so comfortable with you. He wants to tell you more about him, and he wants to know more about you. He starts to tell you his backstory, detailing why he was in such a desperate position to move into a place he couldn’t fully afford.
The part of the story that shocks you isn’t the fact that he was in a relationship less than 2 weeks ago; look at him, he's gorgeous. No, it’s the fact that someone had him and let him out of their grasp. You would never. Although you could sit here and rain a bunch of insults on the girl, you’re more than overjoyed that she cheated because now he’s been led right to you and you are not going to pass this opportunity up. Closed mouths don’t get fed, right?
You stretch your hand out and put it on top of his, that was resting on the handle on the cup. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”, you say, a tone mixed with empathy and possibly a tinge of deceit. Slowly, you rub your thumb back and forth on his hand, your face still looking like that of concern.
To put it simply - this is not good for Anton. His mind, heart and body are completely unsettled. Why is such a small touch unravelling him like this? It’s not like he's never been intimate with a woman, nor has he been touchstarved for that long. But there is just something about you. Like there’s an air of authority that you carry, past just being his landlord. You feel…mature. Sure you’re 4 years older than him, but the difference is striking in you.
A ringtone interrupts his thoughts, plus the lack of contact from you, as you pull away to take the call. He’s slightly grateful because he realised he hadn’t responded all that time, the shock of your touch literally taking his words away.
He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop but when he catches the voice of a lower octave he has no choice. As he watches you speak on the phone, he wonders who has you smiling like that, feeling comfortable enough to jokingly insult. Your eyes move up to see Anton already looking at you, and he doesn’t look away. A fire lights up inside of you as you sense a sly hint of possessiveness from him. Your eyes remain on him as you continue with the conversation, that’s beginning to wrap up.
When Anton snaps out of whatever trance he was in, he looks away and clears his throat. Who is he to be staring at you so intimately, and questioning who you were speaking to? The realisation, that he needs to remind himself of his place and as just your tenant, sunk in. But when he hears you say bye, and start to get your bag and stand up, it’s like it starts all over again.
“This isn’t how I would’ve liked our conversation to end, but I have to get going now.”, you say, softly.
“Oh, that's okay. I-I’ll see you out.”, he answers, once again having to snap out of the all-consuming thoughts, this time wondering if that mystery man is the reason you have to go.
As you get to the outside of the door, you turn back to speak.
“Thanks for sharing everything today, I’m happy that you did.”
“Hah, I probably said more than I should’ve to my landlord, but I liked speaking with you.”
You smile.
“Oh, and if I were her, I would’ve never let you out of my hand.”
With that, you wave goodbye and make your way down the hallway.
Anton’s left more than confused with your final sentence and when he closes the door and rests his back against it, he wonders if he’s allowed to think that what you said is more loaded than it seems.
Since that day, you two haven’t properly spoken for close to two weeks now. You see him occasionally when you come to your building per request of other tenants for discussion of upgrading rooms or enquiries of the contract. You would stop for a quick catch up and he’d tell you he’s on his way to explore the town, or go to the beach or he’s meeting with a friend who came to visit. While the both of you wished for longer conversations and a closer bond, you both did nothing. Anton felt he had to restrict himself, to remember that you are his landlord and he is your tenant. And that you don’t view him as anything else. He isn’t anything special. He shouldn’t think he is just because of how you were to him when you came over, because he saw you being just as friendly to the new young male tenant that just moved in. Maybe it's a specialty service you do to ensure good reviews, or you just genuinely want to make him feel welcome. He’d been gaslighting himself so much that he truly believes your actions were that of sweet innocence and naivety.
So why is he here, sitting in front of his laptop, to test that?
The maintenance request form.
Lately, he'd been getting to know some of his neighbours and in one of those conversations, they’d given him the easy way to get maintenance issues fixed quickly. Become one of the landlord’s favourites. When you send a maintenance request, it’ll usually take a week before the appropriate worker can come to fix it, but his sweet old neighbour told him that the landlord comes to personally see her whenever she makes any requests. Then the next day, the worker comes. This information was meant to help his experience as a tenant, but Anton has other ideas. Selfish, personal ideas.
The gaslighting to think of you as just his landlord, the avoidance of thinking of you at all, the constant pent up hunger for you; it all came rushing when he saw you talking to that other young tenant. He wants to be the only one. The only one you talk to like that, you look at like that, you touch like that. There was no need for the handshake to last that long, or for you to look at him with those eyes, and smile at him with that same smile of yours. Anton just couldn’t understand the rage, upset, and passion he felt seeing that. For someone he barely knows. For someone who he pays rent to.
You're sitting at home, going through any last emails for the day before you enter your bed when you see an email labelled “Flat 707 maintenance request”.
“What?”, you say to yourself, as you click on the email and open the form. Lo and behold, it truly is from Anton, seeing his full name filled out at the top. You read through and you’re left confused. A leak in the bathroom? And the kitchen? It hadn’t even been a month since he moved in. Plus, when you saw him earlier today, he didn’t mention any of that. So, this must be true. Right? What reason would Anton have to lie about fake maintenance? Then, like the universe desperately wants you to figure this out, you suddenly remember the face he was making when he saw you talking to the new tenant that moved in. The same face he was making when you were on the phone to your brother that day you came over. If this really is what you’re thinking then you’ve massively underestimated Anton. Sending in a fake maintenance form just to get your attention? Taking the risk of either you or a plumber knocking on his door? You start to chuckle to yourself, taking a sip of your coffee. Closing your laptop, and heading to bed, you think of outfit ideas for tomorrow. It's a big day.
You don't usually come in on Saturdays, hence the surprise in some of your older tenants’ faces and the comments of “working hard today?” as you walk by. It’s 2 pm, and having filled up on lunch, you have all the energy needed for what you’re about to do. Prepping yourself up in the elevator, you apply a layer of lipgloss, fix your hair and adjust your clothes. Wearing a black tight skirt that rides up to your mid thigh, sheer black tights, leather black pumps and a white batwing top, you feel confident and sexy. Though you're a landlord, you love to go for the corporate apparel; you look and feel good and you’ve found your tenants are less likely to bullshit you when you come around asking for late rent. Unbeknownst to you, Anton loves it too. And he’s gonna love what you have prepared for him.
Hearing two knocks at the door, Anton's heart starts to race. He’d been so unsettled and anxious since he sent that email, especially with no word back from you. He thought you would’ve sent back an acknowledgement email, but no. Absolute silence. Until now. He’s praying with all his heart it’s not the neighbours giving him baked goods.
He runs to the door, looks through the peephole and his heart practically stops beating. He physically has to wipe his smile off his face with hands, takes a deep breath in and opens the door. He takes in your outfit, mentally complimenting you, because it’d be weird to say in real life, and his eyes linger on your exposed thick thighs.
“Hi.”, you say.
“Hi.”
“You sent a maintenance form for leaks, so I wanted to come check the situation myself. Can I come in?”
He opens the door wider to let you in. When you fully situate yourself inside, his happiness quickly dies down as it starts to sink in how stupid his impulsive decision was, because now you’re gonna easily find out there was actually no problem to begin with and think he’s an absolute weirdo for lying about maintenance.
“You said it was in the kitchen and bathroom sink right?”, you interrupt his thoughts.
“Y-Yeah. I, uh, cleaned the leaks this morning and it hasn’t leaked since.”, he babbled, quickly making up an excuse.
He follows you as you go past the counter and angle down to open the cupboard underneath the sink. Your ass is in perfect view, and your skirt rides up just enough to cover anything private but Anton is still completely destabilised. He couldn’t believe what he was looking at. But he has to stay focused. He has two lies he needs to lie his way out of. He can’t let himself get distracted.
Then any sort of thinking quite literally exits his brain when you go on your knees, deeper into the cupboard and arch your back. It doesn’t help that as you shimmy your head around to look for imaginary damages, you let out moans that seem slightly too much for what you’re doing. All the moving around is causing your skirt to shift around and now he could see the lower half of your ass, the sheerness of the tights doing the job, and the peek of a red cloth covering your cunt. With how much of your ass is exposed, it’s obvious you’re wearing a thong, and Anton’s head spins even more. Everything he’s feeling by seeing you like this is rushing straight to his dick. His hand on the counter, supporting his legs that feel numb, and his free hand is grasping over his mouth and chin, going back and forth in disbelief. You have to know what you’re doing. He doesn’t wanna feel like a pervert, but he can’t stop his hand from moving from the counter to over his dick, ready to gently palm it. Anton just wants some relief; at this point, anything will do.
But no can do.
You start to move out of the cupboard and stand up straight, jolting him to hastily remove his hand, awkwardly place it on his hips and quickly turn around. Noticing this, you smirk to yourself, seeing as this is going to plan. Of course you knew what you were doing, that’s why you’re even here in the first place.
“Anton, you okay?”, you innocently say, making your way towards him. You touch his shoulder, and feel the shivers run down his body.
“Yeah!”, he says, surprised by the sudden contact, and clears his throat, “Sorry, no I just- um did you find anything?”
Letting out a silent chuckle, you answer, “No, I didn’t but I guess a plumber will have more of an eye than me for these things. Let’s check the bathroom now. It’s the main one, right?”
When he replies, “Yeah.”, sheepishly, you almost feel bad for him. Almost.
And when you did the same thing again, Anton really couldn’t take it. He’s hiding his hard-to-get-rid-of boner from you thus not being able to see you, but those same moans still go through one ear and out his dick. You leave him no choice but to excuse himself, so he hastily informs you he's going to the ensuite bathroom. But he’s not getting let off that easily.
“Wait! I don’t think that’s a good idea.”, you say, with fake worry and alertness, standing up to go towards him.
“Why?”, he says, back still facing you.
“These things are all connected. You could cause an even bigger leak, or the pipes may just burst all together.”
He’s not really sure how much of that he believes, but it’s not like that matters when he knows there really is no leak anyways.
“It’ll be fine, I used it this morning with no issues.”
He hurriedly rushes to the bedroom door and just as he opens it by a crack, you come from behind him and pull the door back to shut.
“Can you turn around, Anton?”, you demand, voice sweet but authoritative, your hand on top of his on the doorknob. You low-key wish there wasn’t such a height difference between you two, because you wanted to whisper that right in his ear.
“W-why? I just need to use the bathroom quick-”
You interrupt him to grab his body, and turn him around. With instinct, he immediately covers his lower half, his boner bulging out of his white linen pants. You think he looks so adorable right now. The shy, ashamed look on his face, the way his eyes were avoiding yours, and the way he was biting his bottom lip. You were wetter than ever.
“The pipes could burst. Understood?”, you say, with each word said clearly and directly. Fuck, even you were scared of yourself right now. Anton, on the other hand, feels even more perverted because never has he been turned on like he is right now.
He nods, slowly, as a response, unsure of if he should end his life after you leave or after he jerks off after you leave.
“There’s no coming back from this.”, he thinks, “I’m a complete pervert, in her eyes, who can’t control his dick after seeing some ass. His landlord’s ass at that.”
He musters up all his courage to look at you, wondering what type of face you’re making, but when he sees you looking down, he panics even more.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I don’t- This wasn’t- It won’t happen agai-”, he rambles, expression of pure sorrow and remorse plastered on his face. He doesn’t want you to think of him this way, he knows he’s much more than this. He’s not just some horny guy who wants a piece of you, he wants to know you, everything about you. Your likes, dislikes, dreams. But he’s blown it all.
“You didn’t have to lie to get my attention. If you wanted it, you could’ve just asked.”, you say, with a smirk. You’re both looking at each other now, his eyes showing disbelief.
You laugh lightly and take a step back.
“Seeing as there are no damages, I won’t give the plumbers a call. If there’s any other issues, then you know what to do. As for now, I think my work here is done.”, you say, going back into the naive role, and make your way down the hall to the door, leaving poor Anton still in disbelief.
Before you leave, you decide to do just one more bold thing. You look back to him, call out his name and say, “In case you were wondering,”, you gesture with a small push up your boob, “they’re both red.”
And with the click clack of your heels, you leave his apartment.
But the day isn’t over yet.
Something that Anton may not have paid attention to or even seen at all is the presence of a camera in apartment 707. The last tenant’s family required cameras to be installed due to him walking around in the middle of the night, and constantly going missing for hours. When he eventually died, and opened up the place for sale, its presence had slipped your mind. Until today.
You know as soon as you left Anton in that room alone, he moved fast to let off all the pent up energy that’d been building. Nevertheless, your time to strike wasn’t then. You’re saving that for later this evening. So you stay in an apartment on the top floor, reserved for any convenience. And when the time comes, you go down to the security room, lock the door behind you and flick through the different cameras.
Then, at one particular camera, you’re greeted with Anton, underneath his covers, scrolling on his phone. You let out an exhale, having, eventually, found the right camera and waited for any action. Of course, you know this is a gamble. He could just lay in bed and fall asleep to his phone and not do anything, but all you can do is hope that you did a number on him with your earlier performance.
A good 20 minutes go by, and the realisation of what you’re doing begins to settle in. This isn’t even like you. How crazy did this random tenant make you? Feelings of shame wash over you and you grab the mouse to switch off the camera.
But like fucking clockwork, you see him start to shimmy around, and a small rhythm shows from the covers as his eyes are glued to something on his phone. He’s palming himself. You continue to watch, completely absorbed by what you’re seeing, and it only gets better. He throws the covers off him, and exposes his body covered only by black boxer briefs, which look like Calvin Klein. Though the camera’s pretty far away, the bulge piercing through his boxers is something you didn’t have to squint to see. And when he puts his hand under to let his dick spring free, you most definitely did not have to squint. His dick looks girthy and not as long as you expected but it doesn’t change how badly you want it in you. As if your day couldn’t get any better, you remember the cameras have audio, and you turn it on. All thoughts of shame are forgotten as you watch the scene unfold on the screen.
The small huffs and moans hit your ear and affect you more than you thought it would. He starts thrusting into his hand, eyes still glued onto his phone that you can hear female and male moans coming out of. Anton gets desperate so quickly, his body squirming around and you can make out his furrowed expression. You wonder what type of video he’s watching that has him this riled up, but it’s not like any answer will satisfy you. Because you know it’s not you. But then, he puts down his phone, and moves to sit on his knees. You can’t make out exactly what it is he’s saying, but you can tell just how insanely desperate he is. Your clit pulses around nothing, yearning for what you haven’t had and you lick your lips as you continue to watch him.
Then you hear something. Your name. Anton is saying your name. It’s like that activated him to speak louder because you can hear him as clear as day now.
“I wanna taste you, so badly. Fuck–please let me. I wanna feel you. I need you to ride me, fuck me– mmph!”, he moans, whimpering at the end.
He's thinking about you. If your seat wasn’t drenched before, it is now.
His whimpers increase and he’s using both hands now, one on his tip and one of his shaft. As he swirls around his tip, his body jolts but his thrusting doesn’t stop.
“Fuckfuckfuck–I wanna cum. I wanna cum for you!”
His whimpers get so loud, he places a hand over his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. The muffled moans only turn you on even more, as you shift and squeeze your thighs together. As he starts to squirm around even more, you figure he’s close to cumming, so you initiate your second plan of the day.
“Shit–I’m so close. I’m gonna cum–fuckkk. ’need to cum.”, Anton moans, as he bends down to plant the side of his face on the bed, now humping his hand and his sheets. He imagines all the things he wants you to do to him. Intense thoughts of you on top of him, showing no mercy; maybe even choking him or muffling his moans with your panties or, even better, your fingers. It’s all too much. Drool accumulates below his mouth, and it’s like his mind has gone numb. The only words he can say now are your name and “please” in an embarrassingly whiny tone. His eyes roll back, as he continues to think of your ass in those tights, the arch of your back, the peek of the red thong, and he starts to feel it coming.
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
The sound jolts him out of his trance and when he, quickly, tries to chase that feeling back, he can’t. Especially not with the continuous loud knocking. With a loud groan, he pulls up his boxers, puts on his white robe, and, still half-hard, heads to the door. Frustration rings through his body as he wonders who the hell could possibly be disturbing him this late at night? The last person he’s expecting to see through his peephole is you. Startled at this surprise late night visit, he quickly checks himself in the mirror and looks down to readjust his robe, making sure not to repeat earlier events.
When he opens the door, he audibly gulps at what you’re wearing. A fluffy pink robe tied at your waist, but still revealing that a pink satin nightgown underneath. He looks up to notice your hair in a messy bun, and, of course, a pink sleep mask up your forehead.
“Hi, Anton.”, you greeted.
You could almost laugh at how dishevelled he looks. His robe is poorly tied, and his breathing is so irregular, like he’s manually breathing. Poor baby.
He greets you back with a chime of your name, and asks what you’re doing here so late.
“I think, when I came over for the maintenance check, I must’ve left my bracelet here. I had it when I came but realised just now that it’s gone. I’ve checked everywhere but here, so is it okay if I do a sweep?”, you explain, with an innocent tone.
Even though he’s upset that he couldn’t finish, he’s glad to be in your presence again.
He lets you in, and when you walk into the living room, you turn to look at him behind you.
“Did I interrupt a workout session? You’re breathing quite hard, and sweating on your forehead.”
His hand goes to rub the back of his head.
“Yeah, I workout in the evenings, before bed sometimes.”, his voice shy and small.
“Seemed quite intense.”, you tease, moving to the same place where you made him realise how completely easy he is for you.
A part of him hopes you repeat all that you did earlier today. He’s never seen you in such casual wear, let alone night wear. His mind wonders, thinking of if you still have on that red thong, or maybe you don’t wear panties to bed. Just imagining your free cunt under that robe and gown makes his head spin.
Despite this, you do nothing. You crouch down at both sinks, move your head around, making no unnecessary, inappropriate noise and meet back in the living room.
“I don’t think it’s here. Regardless, thanks for letting me in so late to check.”, you sigh with fake sadness.
Anton internally shames himself for feeling so disappointed at the lack of lewdness, calling himself a pervert in the process. But it’s now he notices your robe has become undone, and is fully exposing your nightgown that hugs you in the right places, and sits at your upper thigh. Your nipples are poking out of the material, and he focuses on your boobs sitting naturally with no bra. Are you toying with him? With everything that happened today, and the signs he had to gaslight himself out of reading into, is it really that crazy for him to think this whole thing is a ruse to rile him up and tease him?
Seeing him run his eyes down your body, then almost get lost in thought, you say what you know would bring him back to the present.
“Did you end up fixing your…problem? Earlier today.”
Yup. Definitely a ruse. And now he felt confident to play a part.
“I’m not sure if that’s something a landlord should be asking their tenant. Or even wanting to know.”, he replies, smirking enough for you to see.
Now, what you had planned for was for him to be all shy and weak at the face of that question, so this complete 180 threw you off. You clear your throat, thinking of what to say but your thoughts get interrupted by him asking if you wanted a drink.
Feeling lucky that he’d gotten one up on you, he heads to the kitchen, to pour you both a glass of apple juice, per your answer.
As you sit in the same seats of that day, he passes you your cup. In sync, you both take a sip, eyes on each other.
“I have a right to know.”
“To know what?”
He’s teasing you now.
“If you solved your problem.”
“What problem? The maintenance?”
His smirk is so cunning, you start to wonder where this side of him came from.
“You’re doing this on purpose now. You know what I’m talking about.”
“You’re one to talk.”, he says under his breath, with a chuckle.
“I’m sorry?”, your voice amused with this new level of confidence.
“There’s no bracelet, is there? Or do you want to tell me I’m wrong?”
You scoff, eyes still locked in on each other.
“You’re damn right I wanna tell you you’re wrong. Give me one good reason why I would lie about that?”, you argue, taking a risk with that question, knowing full well, you’ll lose.
“To get in here. That’s why you came to my door in a fully tied nightrobe then as soon as you’re in, it’s somehow come undone.”
Letting out a big laugh, feigning ignorance to his claims, you stood up from the chair and asserted, “You’re reading into things.”
Pretending to be heading towards the door, the grab of your wrist turns and pulls you back.
“You really want to leave? Would you feel satisfied not getting what you came here for? What I know you've been wanting?”, he challenged, his tone seductive and cheeky.
Then it hits you that Anton’s completely misread this situation.
A smile as sly as ever, you walk towards him, and continue walking, pushing him back with your pointer finger, rhythmically, as you say, “So tell me, Anton. What exactly is it that you think I came here for? What do I want from you?”
His back hits the wall connected to the marbled counter and he stares down intimately at you, his dominant side, that he’s used to, not allowing him to back down.
“You want me to fuck you.”
You snort. Then once more. Now, you’re full on laughing, having to muffle the sound with your hand.
He’s bewildered by this. Did you not want to fuck? Was he completely wrong? But then, why would you come here dressed like this? These thoughts become utterly silenced by the words that come out from you next.
“And here you were pretending to be so smart and having me all figured out.”, you move to grab his chin, “I want to fuck you. In fact, I want to ruin you. So much that all you can think of is me. I want to ruin you to the point that nothing else does it for you. To the point where you can’t even jerk off or cum to anyone but me. Once you taste me, it'll be all you want, all you desire, all you crave.”
You give his face a squeeze, and tilt your head to look up at him with faux innocence.
“You’ll belong to me.”
Letting go of his face, you take a step back.
Anton’s unsure of how he would even begin to process everything you’ve just said. It’s what he’d secretly wanted you to do to him this whole time but to hear such filthy words come out of your mouth, it’s hotter than he could’ve imagined. His body is tense and he remains silent, eyes looking down as he tries to remember to breathe. His mouth is completely dry and it's hard to swallow.
You watch as he tries to regain any ounce of sanity and decide to toy with him once more.
“Well seeing as we both want different things, I guess there’s nothing we can do. I’ll head out and we can forget this ever happened.”
As you pretend to walk towards the door, yet again, you hear an abrupt, “Wait!”.
You could do this all day.
“Don’t go. Please.”
You turn around only to be slapped in the face with the most desperate face you think anyone in history has ever made. The slight furrow of his eyebrows, his eyes as puppydog as ever, looking straight into your soul, and the bite on his plump pink lips. This fucker.
Walking towards him, you stretch your hand to cup and caress his cheek. He practically melts into your touch.
“Why? Do you want me to ruin you?”
Feeling pity on him, you decide to go easy on him and not force him to say it himself, not when he’s already showing so much courage. Plus, you’re starting to feel impatient.
He nods, hands clawing at the side of his robe.
“I want the same things. It was all I could think about today, when I was…fixing my problem. I-I just didn’t know if you were into stuff like that. I didn’t even know I was.”
You give him one more look before you cup both sides of his face and bring him in closer, to land your lips on his. His hands instinctively find solace on your wrist and waist, as he lets out soft hums. The kiss is delicate, like you’re being careful with one another but you’re both still hungry for more. The feeling of your plump lips has him eager to taste the rest of you, he;s licking his lips as you pull away.
Giving him a soft smile, you let out an exhale and state, “You know it’ll be hard for me to go easy on you, right?”
“It’s fine, I can take it.", he declares.
Your hand moves to ruffle his hair, “That’s a good boy.”
His dick twitches at this new name, and, hand in hand, you lead him to his bedroom, locking the door behind you.
“S-Shit. This isn’t enough, please. Please, just do something. I need more.”, Anton whines, hips currently thrusting at full speed into his own hand.
He keeps on switching from hand to hand, using both, focusing on the tip, but it's just not enough. Not when he can see you, legs crossed on his bed, watching him fuck himself so intensly. You’re now showing him the red thong that had his mind going crazy, and the lacy bralette that he’s fantasised about seeing. Your body is absolutely divine to him, seeing as how dry his mouth got when you finally took off your night gown. But now you’re here, denying yourself the pleasure, knowing you want to touch him just as badly as he wants you to, just to fuck with him and make him even more needy for you.
“Do you want to disobey me?”, you probed, eyebrows sparking up at him.
“No. No- fuck. I just don’t wanna cum like this. I can’t cum like this. I need to feel you. Please, I’ve been so good this whole time haven’t I?”
You knew you couldn’t argue with that. When you told him you wanted to see how he jerked off by himself earlier today, you were lowkey stunned at how obedient he was. Of course, there was a little apprehension at first, but he didn’t voice it. At any rate, you could see how increasingly needy and sloppy his thrusts were getting and the constant squirming and cursing. It was all affecting you too, your core clenching and pulsing around nothing. Your hunger only grows as you’re staring at his abs that are tightening and clenching with every squirm and hitch of a breath. His dick is flushed with red veins bulging through and he tightens his grip when he sees you, practically, eyefucking him, whilst biting your lips.
“Lay back.”, you order.
Anton does just that. He removes his hands from his dick and lays his head on the pillows.
“You’ve been such a good boy for me, and I think it’s time you get a reward.”, you say, tone as smooth as silk.
You spread his legs, and situate yourself in between. Your hands rest on each of his thighs, feeling the shivers run through his body. His breathing is heavy, as he stares expectantly at you. Then, you start to plant gentle kisses up from his shaft to his tip, causing him to let out a tiny whimper. Your eyes trail up to him as you begin to focus your mouth on his tip, going from gentle kisses to sucking. He’s already getting so riled up, especially with his dick being so sensitive from before. Anton’s clenching the sheets while moans and whimpers escape him as you up the intensity. Soon enough, you’re taking him deeper in your mouth and it all becomes too much for him.
“Fuck–W-wait I think I’m close. Shit!”, his eyes roll to the back of his head.
You show no signs of stopping, now using your hand to rub the base up and down, focusing your lips back to the tip. You swirl your tongue around the tip and play with the slit, eliciting a row of high-pitched whimpers from him.
“Ahh! N-No, I can’t! I’m gonna cum–fuck!”, he practically screams, his head grinding into the side of the pillow, biting down in an attempt to muffle his moans.
Upon hearing this, you pull off immediately.
“W-Why did you stop? I was so close.”, he protests in a whiny tone, eyebrows furrowed in desperation, tears threatening to fall.
“You don’t cum unless I tell you to. If you do, I’ll make sure you won’t cum at all today. Got it?”, you command.
He knew being the one to get dominated for once would be a whole new experience but it all feels so surreal to him. But he’s loving every second of being under your control.
Giving you a shy nod, you get back into it. It’s like he’s even more sensitive, given the mewls and chokes on moans. The feeling of his dick twitching and pulsing in your hand, the noises and faces he’s making - it all feels like a drug.
“Ngh! I’m close again, c-can I cum? Please, let me cum for you. I can’t hold on any longer.”
“Beg harder and I’ll think about it.”, you say, slightly muffled as you speak with half his dick in your mouth.
Anton’s fists the sheets even more tightly, eyes squeezed shut to hold back from cumming. “Please, please let me cum! I’ll do anything you say, just–f-fuck–nnghh–p-please! It really hurts!”
“Come for me, tonnie.”,
The nickname does it. That same second, he's cumming ropes of his hot cum, landing on his stomach and your hands that are still pumping his shaft. His hand has to fly over to his mouth in embarrassment of how loud he’s whining. Arousal and neediness overtake you and you’re climbing his body to land him a kiss. At first it was slow, starting with small pecks, then the hunger exudes through both of you and morphs into true passion. He gives up any fight to lead, letting your tongue explore his mouth, biting and sucking on his lips. All his whimpers get eaten by you, with no chance to escape. You pull away to tease him and he, of course, needily whines at the sudden lack of contact, and leans in to follow your mouth, like a lost puppy. When your lips touch but he doesn’t feel you kiss him back, he groans. Unable to help it with such a cute show in front of you, you smile against his mouth. Feeling this and frustrated, he, gently, grabs the back of your neck and forces you closer to continue kissing you. That went straight to your core.
This time, he pulls away and looks you deep in your eyes, “I wanna make you feel good too. Will you let me?”
The desperation in his voice only got you wetter and who were you to deny this golden opportunity. You’d been wanting to stuff his face full of your cunt since the minute you met him. Giving him the green light, you switch places. He brings your knees up and curls each of his arms between your thighs, planting small kisses as he goes down, your breath hitching in response. He teases kisses on your clothed cunt then proceeds to take it off with his teeth. As if he couldn’t get any hotter.
He’d barely even started before he could feel himself already getting dizzy just from the feeling of your bare pussy on his tongue. He’s lapping at your folds, and licking long slow stripes from your hole to your clit. Anton wants to take his time with you. He wants to bask in this moment, loving the way you quietly let out moans and shake in response to him.
“Pull my hair–fuck, please.”, he groans, looking up at you as he takes a second to come up for air. And when your hand finally settles in and tugs on his locks, he fucking loses it, going rock hard.
He goes deep in your hole with his tongue, moans vibrating against your folds. You see his lower half basically humping against the bed, but you’re too fucked-out to discipline him. You wonder how his ex ever let this mouth go.
Your moans increase with every lick and suck, and when he inserts two fingers inside, you start to see stars.
“Am I doing good, baby? Please, tell me I am.”, he begs, wanting to hear praise from you. He’s so hard from your moans, the way you tighten your grip in his hair and how you’re basically smothering him with your thighs clasped around his head.
“Y-Yes! Fuck, you’re doing so good for me. You’re such a good boy, tonnie. Keep going–don't stop!”, you moan out through gritted teeth.
The praise goes straight to his dick, and he feels himself getting so close. The friction of the sheets against the bed paired with your praise is making him so desperate. Knowing he’s doing such a good job is making him stain the sheets with his pre-cum.
“Are you close? I need you to come on my tongue, please–I want it so bad. Your good boy needs you to, please!”, he pleaded, fingers going at an overwhelming pace, like he’s literally trying to dig your orgasm out of you.
Now, you’re both rutting - him against the sheets, you against his face and fingers.
Legs locking, you clench even tighter around his head and, finally, cum undone. Anton still keeps flicking his tongue and fucking you with his fingers, riding you through your high.
When you finally come down, he’s peckering kisses onto your face.
“Are you okay?”, he asks.
“Yeah, I’m just thinking how we didn’t do this sooner.”, you reassure, smiling at him.
He laughs as he settles down next to you.
Feeling like he’s getting too comfortable, you look over, “The night’s not over yet, tonnie. I haven’t ruined you like I wanted.”
Then, you’re moving over to straddle his hips and unclipping your bra. Activated, he sits up to rest his back against the headboard.
He’s in awe of your body, your bare breasts so close to his face and you’re looking down at him in pure hunger. You’ve never looked more sexy to him.
“What are you going to do to me?”, he whispers, desperation exposing, as he looks up at you with those puppy eyes.
Grabbing his chin, you grind your cunt against his shaft, “I’m gonna ride you, you want me to ride you baby?”
“Mmph–please. I wanna feel you.”
“Yeah? Tell me how bad you want it.”, you tease, now dragging the tip of his cock up and down your entrance.
Biting down on his lips, he attempts to muffle his moans.
“So bad, baby. Put it in, please, I need you to fuck me.”
Letting out a small “Good boy.”, you sink down on his dick, both moaning at the long-awaited feeling of him filling you up.
Leaning down to kiss him, you start moving your hips, slowly, just allowing yourself to get adjusted to his size. Though he’s not as long as you’ve dealt with, you’ve never felt someone stretch you out like he has.
“Fuck, your dick feels so fucking amazing, tonnie. What a bad boy for keeping this from me.”
“N-No–nnghh–tell me I’m good–please.”
“Maybe when I see how good you take this.”
With that, you begin to slam your hips up and down his dick, gripping his shoulders for balance. Your walls clench and squeeze around him as he slides in and out of you. You only get more wet when his moans and whimpers are much louder and lewder than before. His hands grip your thighs, trying to remain sane with how euphoric your gummy walls feel around his dick.
Anton reaches out to grab your face to lock eyes with you, “Kiss me, please.”
Heart skipping a beat, you smash your lips onto him, moans, spit and lust mixed between your mouths.
“S-So good–so fucking good, baby. Go faster–fuckfuckfuck!–please–I need it so bad.””
Pleasure overtaking you, you stabilise yourself and increase the speed of your hips, your boobs bouncing in front of his face. He’s completely mesmerised, he doesn’t even realise he's latching onto your boob, sucking like he’s trying to get milk. Your back arches even more, moans reaching pornagraphic level. Finding your hands in his hair, you pull on his locks as you continue to fuck him senseless.
His dick is leaking inside you, pulsing and pulsing as he feels even more unable to take all that you’re giving him. Anton’s squirming around and he’s digging deeper in your thighs but this only encourages you to clench tighter and ride faster.
He’s tapping relentlessly at your thigh, practically screaming, “Fuck!–Baby, no–stop–y-you gotta slow down–please! I don’t wanna cum yet!”
“And you won’t, if you wanna be good for me. Hold it, tonnie.”
“No, please! I can’t–I really can’t! Mmph–shit! You’re so fucking tight, it’s too much!”
“I thought you liked it, tonnie, now it’s too much? My poor puppy can’t take it? Want me to stop?”, you whisper, sultrily in his ear, your words making him shiver and his dick twitch.
“No–don’t stop! Keep going–keep fucking me–please!”, he whines, eyes rolling back to your involuntary clench to his desperate pleading.
“Mmm– that’s what I thought, slut.”
Anton didn’t know such a degrading name would have his dick twitching and aching for more, and if he didn’t have the stamina and mental strength that he had, he would’ve come right on the spot.
It doesn't help that, now, your hand has found its way to his face, and your thumb is stroking all around his lips slowly. Anton, eager as ever, parts his lips, practically offering his mouth to you. When you hook your thumb in, he's closing his eyes and sucking on it, whimpers muffled. Feeling more turned on by his pathetic display, you put two fingers in and he's more than happy to accommodate. He's tonguing your fingers, licking up, down and in-between, his hands coming to grip your wrist as he moves it further down his mouth to touch his throat. At this point, he's damn near choking on your fingers, tongue flat and drool falling. The sounds he's making are only making you more wet, as he goes back to sucking and gagging on your fingers, tears falling from the sensation. This was way better than he imagined it to be, as he grinds up to go deeper in you.
“You wanna cum, tonnie? Then, beg to cum in this pussy.”, your voice low and hard.
He didn’t even consider the possibility of cumming in you, but now his desperation has hit a peak. Never in his life had he longed and yearned for something this bad.
“Please, let me cum–shit! I just wanna cum for you, please let your good boy fill you up–mmphh! I’m so fucking close! Please–ugh–I can’t hold it!”
Feeling your high reach closer and closer, you give him permission and he’s hugging you as his body goes stiff, squirting and painting your walls white, filling you up with sticky strings of hot cum. His lewd whimpers fill the room as he continues cumming, eyes rolled far back in his head as his back arches and thighs jerk. But he doesn’t even get his chance to rest when you start moving again.
“Wh-What are you doing? I already came, my dick is gonna–hah–fuck!–It’s gonna explode if you keep going!”
You turn around to land in a reverse cowgirl position, planting your feet on either side of his legs and continue slamming down on his dick.
“I still haven’t cum yet, so shut up and–mmph!–let me use you.”
The view of your ass bouncing on his spent dick has him going crazy, and he can feel himself getting embarrassingly close already. His head clashes back into the headboard, whimpers getting increasingly high-pitched as you start squeezing him even tighter as you become dangerously close to the edge.
“Fuck, tonnie, I’m gonna cum. Does my good boy want me to cum all over his dick, hm?”
You can’t even see how intensely he’s nodding his head, “Y-yeah, cum on your dick, baby! I’m all yours, use me–ahh!”
Then, you’re cumming, back giving out as you release everything. Your vision goes dark, only seeing stars as the pleasure overtakes your whole body.
“You're milking me dry–fuuuuck me. Shit!–i’m gonna cum too, can I cum as well–baby please?”
Your throat being dry, from how loud you’ve been moaning, you barely manage to let out a hoarse “Cum for me.” and with that, he’s pumping you full again.
No man has ever made you orgasm like this, making this experience much more overwhelming and thrilling. As you come down on your high, you feel your legs and thighs start to burn. You settle beside him to stretch your legs, then you see Anton move over to place your legs back and face your cunt.
“I gotta keep my lady clean.”, he says, with a cheeky smirk on his face, as he starts lapping at your folds.
His lady, huh? You could get used to that.
The sun glistens on your face as you rub your eyes awake. When you get adjusted to the bright light, you look next to you only to see an empty bed. Before you could even begin to wonder where Anton is, you're greeted with his back entering the room, holding two trays of food and mugs of coffee.
“Oh, aren’t you cute?”, you chime with a smile as you sit up to lay against the headboard.
Once he settles your tray in front of you, he joins you in bed.
“I try my best. I figured I’d make you something good, after you used up all your energy last night.”
You let out a laugh and start eating your heart-shaped fluffy pancakes, and egg and bacon.
“So do all your one night stands get this specialty service? Or is it specifically reserved for those who blow your mind?”
“Ha. Ha.”, he laughs, sarcastically, “But I’m not a one night stand type of guy.”
“Oh yeah? So what would you call this instead?”, you ask, turning to look at him.
Your hope for him to see last night as something meaningful takes you by surprise, as you’re waiting eagerly for his answer. You see the thoughts brewing in his head, as he takes his time to think.
“I mean, I’m not sure what to call it. But I do know I want us to be more than just a landlord and a tenant that constantly teeters on the line of professionalism.”
“Well, I only do full commitment or none at all.”, you proclaim, not wanting to enter another situationship.
“Then, how about a date this Saturday? I’d love to take you out.”, he asks, feeling relieved that you want more too. Anton’s realising he doesn’t need to be playing it safe with you anymore, seeing your reciprocation. He wants nothing more than to spoil you, shower you with love, take care of you and make you his. And, of course, wants your eyes only on him.
Feeling inflated with happiness, your smile beams through and you lean in for a peck.
“A date it is.”
a/n: hey…how yall doing…been a while… couldn’t even tell you what motivated me to write a 10k fic but i loved writing it, im getting back into the swing of writing so it may not be up to par…hope you guys like this, regardlesss and lmk opinionsss😝🤭
contains : smut, established relationship, fingering, handjob, penetrative sex, slight muscle worship, soft dom anton, lots of touching + teasing, fluffy aftercare
word count : ~920
note : requested ^_^ ive been very very busy!!! enjoy meow!!!!!!
you’re sprawled across the living room floor surrounded by highlighters, flashcards, and that stupidly thick anatomy textbook that’s been mocking you for three hours straight. the muscles of the upper limb section is kicking your ass tonight; origin, insertion, innervation, action… everything is blurring together and your brain feels like mush.
a soft chuckle comes from the couch behind you.
“still fighting with the deltoid?” anton’s deep voice is gentle, a little amused. he’s been quietly gaming with one ear off so he could keep an eye on you.
you groan dramatically and flop onto your back, staring at the ceiling. “i’m gonna fail this practical if i can’t keep all these stupid attachments straight. why do there have to be so many layers?”
you hear him set the controller down. then the couch creaks, and suddenly anton is on the floor with you, long limbs folding as he sits cross-legged. his oversized black hoodie and sweats make him look extra cuddly, but those sharp cheekbones and sleepy eyes are unfairly pretty even when he’s just trying to be helpful.
“here,” he says simply, tugging the hoodie off in one smooth motion. the thin white t-shirt underneath rides up a little, revealing a sliver of smooth, toned stomach. “use me.”
you blink. “huh?”
“you need to learn the muscles, right? i’ve got muscles.” he gives you that shy little smile that always makes your heart flip. “i’m right here. touch, poke, trace—whatever helps. i’ll be your living model.”
heat rushes to your face instantly. “anton… you don’t have to—”
“i want to.” he scoots closer until his knees brush yours. “c’mon, baby. it’ll be fun. and maybe i’ll learn something too.”
you hesitate for half a second before grabbing your textbook and crawling over to him. he stretches out on his back obediently, arms relaxed at his sides, watching you with those big dark eyes. the t-shirt clings to his chest and shoulders in the best way.
you start safe. shoulder area. your fingers press lightly over the fabric, tracing the curve of his deltoid.
“origin on the clavicle and scapula… insertion on the humerus…” you mutter, more to yourself than him, but anton hums in encouragement anyway. your palm slides down to his bicep and you feel the muscle twitch under your touch when you gently squeeze.
“flex,” you whisper.
he does, slowly curling his arm so the biceps peaks beautifully. you can’t help the tiny gasp that escapes. it’s firmer than you expected, warm skin under thin cotton, the vein along the muscle standing out just a little.
“good?” he asks, voice lower than before.
“yeah… really good.” your fingers drift lower, mapping the brachialis, then the triceps on the back of his arm when he flips it for you. every time you press or stroke, anton’s breathing gets a little deeper.
you move to his chest next. when your hands slide under the hem of his shirt and push it up, he lifts his arms without being asked so you can bunch the fabric under his collarbones. his abs contract slightly as cool air hits his skin. eight subtle lines you’ve kissed a hundred times but never studied quite like this.
“rectus abdominis…” you murmur, fingertips dancing along the ridges. “external obliques… transverse abdominis…”
anton lets out a shaky breath when your nails graze the sensitive skin just above his waistband. “you’re really focused, huh?”
“trying to be,” you admit, cheeks burning. but your hands are lingering now, no longer just clinical. you press your whole palm flat over his pectoralis major, feeling the firm muscle and the way his heart beats faster underneath.
his hand comes up to cover yours, guiding it slowly across his chest. “this one’s pectoralis major. helps with adduction and medial rotation… right?”
you laugh softly. “show-off.”
“i pay attention when my girlfriend talks about school.” he tugs you gently so you’re half-draped over him. “keep going. i like your hands on me.”
the air between you shifts. the textbook is forgotten on the carpet as you straddle one of his thighs for better access, your knees bracketing his hips. you trace the serratus anterior along his ribs, then back up to his trapezius when he sits up a little so you can reach his back and shoulders. every new muscle you name, you reward with a kiss. soft at first, then slower, wetter.
“latissimus dorsi…” you whisper against the wide muscle of his back, lips brushing skin as you push his shirt higher.
anton groans quietly, hands settling on your waist. “baby…”
you can feel him getting hard against your thigh where you’re pressed together. the innocent study session is long gone. you rock your hips experimentally, grinding down on the firm bulge in his sweats, and he hisses through his teeth.
“fuck… keep doing that,” he murmurs, voice husky.
your hands grow bolder. you shove his shirt all the way off and let your mouth follow where your fingers have been kissing, licking, gently biting the defined lines of his abs while your palm slides lower, cupping him through the fabric. he’s so warm, so hard already, twitching under your touch.
“quadriceps…” you tease breathlessly as your fingers trace the long muscles of his thigh, squeezing the thick muscle there before slipping higher, brushing over his inner thigh. anton’s hips buck up involuntarily.
he suddenly flips you both so you’re on your back, his tall frame hovering over you, eyes dark and hungry. “my turn to study,” he whispers, pushing your shirt up and pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach.
his long fingers dip under your waistband, sliding your shorts and panties down in one go. when his palm cups between your legs, he groans at how wet you already are.
“soaked just from touching me? cute…” he circles your clit slowly with two fingers, then slips one inside, curling it perfectly while his thumb keeps rubbing. you moan, thighs trembling around his wrist.
“anton—ah—right there…”
he adds a second finger, pumping steadily, his mouth latching onto your neck, sucking a pretty mark while his free hand kneads your breast. every thrust of his fingers makes your back arch, pleasure building fast and hot.
“gonna come for me, baby? wanna feel you on my fingers first…”
you do, clenching around him with a broken whine, hips grinding against his hand as the orgasm washes over you. he keeps moving gently until you’re panting and boneless beneath him.
only then does he pull his fingers out, licking them clean with a shy-but-filthy little smile. “best study method ever.”
you laugh weakly, reaching down to tug at his sweats. “your turn… i still need to practice the hip flexors…”
he helps you push his sweats and boxers down, his cock springing free. long, flushed, and leaking at the tip. you wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly while he groans into your mouth, kissing you deep and messy.
“inside,” you whisper against his lips. “want you.”
anton nods, lining himself up and sinking into you in one smooth thrust. the stretch is perfect, filling you so good you both moan. he stays still for a second, forehead pressed to yours, then starts moving slow, deep rolls of his hips that hit every spot.
“so tight… fuck, you feel amazing,” he pants, one hand braced beside your head while the other grips your thigh, spreading you wider.
you cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the very muscles you were studying earlier as he picks up the pace, thrusting harder, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. when he angles just right and grinds against your clit with every stroke, you cry out, coming again around him.
anton follows right after, burying himself deep with a low groan, hips stuttering as he fills you up.
after, he collapses half on top of you, both of you sweaty and breathing hard. he presses soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, your lips. sweet again, like the gentle boyfriend who offered to help in the first place.
“same time tomorrow?” he mumbles sleepily, nuzzling your neck. “i think you still need to review the gluteus maximus…”
you smack his chest weakly, laughing. “shut up, lee anton.”
but you both know you’re definitely doing this again.
I recommend and push for softer, kinder, and loving fics. specifically for riize. as a woman, I rather not see a bunch of this garbage about the members being super abusive to the reader. that includes the fetishizing of rape, incest, domestic violence, and more. if we as women fight against this type of crime every single day, why are we writing it? young girls (children) and adult women daily, monthly, yearly, are victims to these crimes and that leaves a very vulnerable and fragile person. a broken person who no longer gets back the time before such crimes took place. so! why are we writing these kpop men out to be complete monsters? not sure but I as a woman will make a stand and post about it to stop. it’s not cute, romantic, or sexy. if you’re a person struggling because you were a victim to one of these crimes then I think it’s best you get the professional help needed and stop writing it into sick and twisted fantasies for young girls to get ahold of. unfortunately minors are on this app and can read all of the gross fanfics you’re writing about men you don’t know. which can cause confusion. if you were an actual fan of these people—you wouldn’t write such trash. and I mean that in the nicest way possible, let’s stop.
thinking about... wanting to reward your boyfriend, anton
word count: 6.6k
content warnings: fem reader, porn with some plot, oral (f. and m. rec), there's some action involving anton's balls too like idk if there's a name for that, soft dom anton but he's a little shit, snowballing, begging, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, breeding kink, the word mommy is used twice but no actual mommy kink.
a/n: this is sooo nasty and long as hell... hope you guys enjoy it! and thank you for the huuuge support "venus" received <3 comments and/or asks to talk about my fics are thoroughly appreciated :D
to put it simply, none of your previous relationships were good, if you can even call what you had "relationships". you had been so desperate for love and validation, you still stayed with your ex-boyfriend even when he just turned around and fell asleep after you two had had your first time together, not looking at you or saying a word after getting you all dirty with his load.
humiliating, yes, but three months later, you finally realized there were literally no good reasons for you to stay with him.
your ex treated you with about the same warmth as one would treat a colleague from another department you only see every once in a while in the company. he didn't care about your interests or hobbies, and he was not interested in meeting your friends or family, let alone how he was incredibly mediocre in bed. you still get entire body shivers when you remember giving so much of yourself to someone like that, but you try to just be glad it's all in the past.
what came as a result of all of this was: you spent almost two years being painfully single. you honestly didn't mind it that much; it still stung whenever you remembered how nonchalant your ex was when you broke things off with him, so meeting new people felt scary. if you went to a party or club, you could still kiss someone here and there, but every time someone tried to show you they were interested in getting to know you better, you had the same physical reaction as someone who's being hunted for sport.
you had nearly given up on ever having romantic feelings for anyone again when sungchan mentioned a friend of his was moving to south korea. you and sungchan were as close as two coworkers could be, you supposed. the two of you would coordinate lunch breaks and always text each other about the latest office gossip, but you had never hung out outside of an office setting, so you obviously were a little taken aback when, during a random lunch break, sungchan asked if you wanted to tag along him and some friends of his to watch this new movie that had just come out.
it's not like the idea of going for a friendly hangout with sungchan bothered you; if anything, you'd been hoping he'd cross that bridge, being the less shy one out of the two of you. but precisely because you know sungchan is aware of your quieter disposition, you were confused as to why he wanted your first time meeting outside of work be with his close friends around.
before you could ask, though, sungchan said, with a barely contained smile and the tone of someone who's up to no good, "i have this friend, anton, that i think you'd really get along with, you know? he's korean, but he grew up in the states so it's almost like he's a foreigner. just like you! i feel like you have so much in common, really." the crease between your eyebrows only deepened—was sungchan seriously trying to set you up with one of his friends?
once again beating you up to it, before you could deny it, sungchan pulled up some photos of anton that immediately shut you up. oh, fuck, was the guy handsome. doe eyes, big nose, plump lips, thick thighs, huge shoulders and a teeny tiny waist. there's no way in hell you could say no.
anton told you later he was the one who saw you in one of the pictures sungchan had posted from your team and that he had begged sungchan to find a way to introduce you two. to give them some grace, even if they had been plotting on you, the hangout was actually really fun and easy. anton didn't come too strongly to try and interact with you to the point of being inconvenient; he would instead do more subtle things, like offering to share the popcorn he had bought for himself and doubling down on it whenever you poked fun at sungchan. you kept in contact after that, having been way more charmed by him than you were already expecting, and it didn't take long for him to ask you out on a date.
going on dates with anton was so easy it almost scared you. he would pay for absolutely everything, he had held your hand in public since the first date and he would always plan really thoughtful dates instead of last-minute booty calls, as your ex did. you were absolutely smitten with him and, for the first time, you could tell it went both ways. when he officially asked you to be his girlfriend, you jumped onto him with such energy anyone watching would've thought anton was proposing to you instead, the huge smile on anton's face nearly blinding you. that night, anton made you feel not only so much pleasure that you nearly passed out, but beyond the lust, you could feel how much he truly loves you. and that? that unlocked something inside you.
usually, you're a bit of a pillow princess when it comes to your sex life. you thought it was just a preference, but after anton became your boyfriend you realized you just weren't as into your previous boyfriends as your lovesick mind thought you were. to you, anton is truly one of a kind: he's not afraid of showing how much he adores you, clinging to your waist at all times, or, at the very least, he makes sure some part of him is touching you. he buys you chocolate, pain medicine, and pads the day after you complain about your upcoming period. anton also comes to your apartment straight after work on most days, even if his place is closer to his job—and it doesn't matter if he's tired after his shift, he will always drag you to the bathroom to shower or bathe with him and will even give you a massage if work was rough for you too.
all those little things started piling up in your heart and the back of your mind, and that combined with how incredibly hot your boyfriend is... you're almost embarrassed to admit it, feeling like you're worse than a pubescent thirteen-year-old boy, but you seriously felt like you could fuck anton every day. you blame it all on anton, though. how could you not want him to absolutely rearrange your guts when he's smiling so sweetly up at you—head comfortably nestled on your lap and pressing gentle kisses to your thighs every now then—when you're just yapping about boring work stuff?
luckily for you, anton's past as a professional swimmer means he had great stamina. not only that, but the man is completely head over heels for you, which meant he was more than happy to indulge you all the time. you know your boyfriend isn't any better than you though; he acts all innocent, but you've had been dating anton for long enough to realize just how much he enjoys the fact that he can just give you a quick peck and speak in his usual low, soft tone "i love you, baby" and that that's already enough for you to start getting wet.
you and anton are both adults juggling their personal lives with their careers, though, so as much as you two wish you could spend entire days fucking like rabbits, it's just not doable. still, you always have that itch in you, begging to be scratched, egging you on to just do something for your boyfriend. anton is the best thing that has happened to you these past few months you've been dating. how can you not reward him? and with that thought in mind, you developed a sort of habit.
sometimes one or both of you are a tad too tired to have sex the way you two like, especially anton, who, despite enjoying the desperation of an occasional quickie, enjoys it much more when he has time to fuck you deep and thoroughly.
sometimes you don't have time; every once in a while, your company gears up for a big event and the day before is always filled with running around, making calls and staring at spreadsheets until it's way past the time you usually clock out. after days like these, you always get home late and, even so, you still have to wake up early to help with the final preparations for the event, so you unfortunately can't afford to lose even more sleep even if you feel your empty cunt clench around nothing as you see anton running you a warm bath to help you relax after the stressful day.
your solution? having anton's dick in your mouth every chance you get.
even with your mediocre sex life prior to meeting anton, you always found giving head enjoyable. there's just something about how dick tastes and the weight of that hardness on your tongue that really turns you on. nothing compares to giving anton head, though. the flush on his face as he looks down at you, his swollen lips from how much he's biting them, the lustful sighs that manage to escape from his throat... even if anton absolutely despises the thought of leaving you hanging, on the days you don't have a lot of time to spare, you swear you'd be okay with doing just that: give him the sloppiest blowjob you can manage, have him feed you with his cum and just keep nursing on his cock until he either goes soft in your mouth or the agitation from the day finally catches up to you, making you fall asleep.
anton said multiple times, in between shocked and love-filled giggles, that you're insane. you still think it's his fault for having a dick that tastes that good. and not as if he's any better either—if you don't fall asleep after sucking the life out of his dick, most of the time he's more eager than you to return the favor, claiming your pussy gets so wet afterwards that it tastes even better.
you had a feeling when you woke up that today might be one of these days. for once, anton hadn't slept at your place the night before, so you subconsciously licked your lips just looking at the empty space in your bed where your boyfriend usually sleeps. "thank fucking god today is friday," you grumble against your hands that cover your face. you just need to make it through the day, you think, and when you get home, your drop-dead gorgeous boyfriend will come soon after and you'll be able to yank his pants out of his body. positive affirmations to get the day started, or whatever it is that people say, right?
the rest of your day goes on as about normal—you feed your cat before leaving the apartment, your manager pisses you off by asking you to do tasks you've already done, sungchan invites you for lunch and tells you a manager from another department was caught making out with the fresh out of college and eager to please newest hire of her team. same old, same old.
when the clock finally hits 5, you hastily shove all your stuff inside your bag, saying goodbye to everyone as quickly as you can without sounding too impolite, and make your way to the nearest subway station. thankfully, you managed to find a place for yourself that's only two subway stations away from work, so the ride home is usually quick and uneventful. you greet the doorman as you get to your building, standing eagerly in front of the elevator as you clutch the straps of your bag, just wishing to get home as soon as possible.
as you finally step out of the elevator, you're rummaging through your bag trying to find your keys, but as you're standing in front of your door, you feel the smell of fresh food hit your nose—and it's coming from inside your apartment? when you finally manage to fish your keys out of the black hole that is your work bag, you unlock the door, already kicking your shoes off your feet. the moment you close the entrance door behind you, you feel a wave of warmth hit you as you take in the scene in front of your very eyes: anton, all in his cuddly glory wearing his stay-at-home glasses, a hoodie and sweatpants, sitting on your couch with your cat snuggled up to his chest—she knows what she likes—, snowball's black fur sticking to your boyfriend's entire face as you hear the sound of something boiling in the kitchen.
you like dogs too, but, after learning about anton's allergy, you're so glad you decided to have a cat because it's so damn cute to see how he's almost as clingy with snowball as he is with you.
anton and snowball look up at you at the same time when they hear the door click and you can't help but coo at the way they both visibly perk up at the sight of you. "welcome home, baby!" anton smiles at you while snowball lets out a loud meow, scrambling to be freed from anton's hold in favor of crossing the living room to nuzzle your legs. you absentmindedly throw your bag on the floor to pick up your cat, and when you bury your face in her fur, you hear anton speak up "no fair, she always leaves me when you arrive! and why does she get to be hugged first?"
you roll your eyes at your boyfriend's antics, putting snowball back on the floor to make your way towards the couch. your arms wrap around anton's neck before you lower your body to straddle his lap, feeling his hands slide from your knees to your waist as he looks at you with the biggest heart eyes ever. "that's my daughter. if you didn't want to share, you shouldn't be dating a mom," you retort with a playful smile of your own.
"fine, fine... i still get to be kissed first, right?" anton asks before leaning closer to nudge your noses together, breaths already mingling. instead of replying, you choose to just close the distance between your lips, sighing in delight as you feel anton's plump lips against yours. one of his hands comes to your face, lovingly caressing your cheek while he lightly pushes your head to be more inclined so he can deepen the kiss, needing to feel more of your tongue against his. you press a few more wet pecks against anton's lips before pulling back, giggling when he whines and follows your head, trying to get you to kiss him again.
"shouldn't you check on what you're cooking?" you arch an eyebrow.
your boyfriend is lovely. he really is. but if you had to cite a flaw of his, it would be how awful he is in the kitchen. anton tries so hard, but most of his attempts end up in failure. you try not to sound like you're afraid of whatever he whipped up this time, but anton sees right through your act, chuckling at how adorable you look while trying not to hurt his feelings.
"i put on a timer," he says, wiggling his eyebrows, adding "i followed the recipe to a t this time, baby. i think this is the one!" you laugh as he shakes you on his lap, tightening the hold on his neck so you don't fall on poor snowball who's resting dangerously near anton's left foot.
just as you're about to respond, you hear the time go off on anton's phone, completely forgotten on top of the coffee table behind you. anton gives you one last kiss before giving your butt two little taps, signaling for you to get up. "go take a shower while i plate our food, okay?" he says, reaching for his phone to turn off the timer. "i thought of running you a bath, but i didn't wanna risk ruining the food because i was trying to multitask– oh and i can't wait for you to try it! i also looked up some plating techniques on tiktok. you're in for a ride, baby," anton smiles, lightly pinching your cheek and then walking towards the kitchen.
you're left stunned in the living room for a bit. how the hell did you get so lucky? you thought you'd come home and just wait for anton to arrive before ordering some take out, but not only said pretty boy was already at your house waiting for you, but he went through the hassle of cooking dinner from scratch and even tried to learn how to plate it in a fancy way?
oh, he's so getting the best head of his life later.
quickly grabbing your bag from where you left it by the door, you go to your room to pick up some clothes before getting to the bathroom to freshen up. you giggle mischievously by yourself while you shower, making sure to clean every crevice of your body very thoroughly, already eager to pounce on your boyfriend the moment you're back to the living room. the smell of anton's cooking spreads even further across the house, reaching you in the bathroom, and, to his credit, it does smell good this time around—so much that you almost feel bad that you're probably going to have to reheat later. almost.
after putting away your work clothes, you tiptoe towards the living room, peeking through the doorway to check the surroundings before going in. anton is on his phone and sprawled on the couch while snowball is nowhere to be seen. perfect.
when you start to make your way towards the couch, anton smiles at the sight of you. he drops his phone carelessly on top of the coffee table again before pushing his thick-framed glasses up his nose and putting his palms flat on the cushion as if preparing to sit up. you're faster than him, though, swiftly straddling his lap and leaning down to kiss him before anton could say anything. he lets out a surprised yelp against your lips, but it doesn't take long for his hands to travel all the way to your ass and squeeze it as he deepens the kiss. you feel yourself clenching around nothing when anton uses both his hands to spread your ass cheeks, gripping it tightly as a way to let of some steam, and you have to stop kissing him to let out a gasp against his mouth. your lips trail kisses down his jaw to his neck, making him groan next to your ear.
anton murmurs between gasps, "the food..."
your kisses to anton's neck come to a halt as you support your hands on his shoulder to straighten your back, looking down at him as you say "we can eat it later," already pulling anton by his hands to a sitting position. sliding down from his lap towards the floor, you smile as anton turns to sit facing you, allowing you to position yourself between his legs. both your hands move to his thighs, the left one caressing makeshift circles on his skin while the right one pushes the hem of his shorts further up, exposing more of him to you.
you lay your head on anton's exposed thigh, slowly kissing the soft skin while blinking up slowly at your boyfriend. anton feels his breathing get ragged, a breathy chuckle leaving his plump lips as he brings his right hand down to caress your hair and face. "it's one of those days, huh?" he says lowly, feeling you nod your head against his palm.
anton leans down to take your lips in his again, craddling your face in his hands as he steals the air out of you. when he pulls back, you feel a new wave of heat spreading through your body as his lustful gaze fixes you in place, challenging you to keep your eyes on his as he says, "can't even do something nice for my baby without making her wet... you're so needy for me, right, love?"
you have to bite your lip to suppress a moan just from the effect anton's words have on you. when he keeps looking at you, waiting for your reply, you whisper "i'm always needy for you, toni." this brings a smile to your boyfriend's face, and you feel his frames pressing against your face when anton gives you one last peck before leaning back on the couch.
anton doesn't take his eyes off of you nor the small smirk on his face when he says, "c'mon, pull my cock out. i know you're eager to get your mouth on it."
you don't have to be told twice, your hands rapidly moving up anton's body to reach his waistband. he gives you the grace of lifting his hips to help you pull his boxers and shorts down simultaneously, wasting no time to throw them somewhere around the living room the moment they slide off his feet. before you could finally put your hands on his shaft to guide it into your mouth, anton slides further down the couch and spreads his legs wider as he takes his dick in his hand, starting to slowly pump it in front of your face. as soon as you opened your mouth to complain, anton just said a gentle, but firm, "go on."
you look up at him for a few seconds before dropping your gaze back to his thick cock. leaning down, your hands slide up anton's thighs until they reach his hips, steadying yourself as you let your tongue out to give a broad lick to the middle of anton's testicles.
"good girl," he breathed out, moving his right hand a tad faster on his length while his free hand traveled to meet your nape, tugging lightly on your hair to ground himself.
you whine as you use one of your hands to cup anton's balls, sucking one to your mouth, your eyes closed while you let the taste of his skin sit on your tongue. anton lets out a pained "fuck," as he takes in the scene in front of his eyes, his pretty, sweet girlfriend moaning with against him as she moves to start licking and sucking his other ball. he can feel his eyes involuntarily rolling to the back of his head as his entire body shakes when anton uses his thumb to spread his precum on his tip.
when anton looks down at you again, you're still nursing on his balls, eyebrows furrowed and drool running down your chin. he tightens his grip on your hair to pull you away from his testicles, sliding the hand on his dick to his base to point it towards your mouth before commanding a quiet "spit." you do as you're told, puckering your lips as you gather saliva in your mouth before you lean down to let it all out on his cock.
anton breathes deeply, feeling a moan reverberate in his chest as he begins pumping his shaft slowly again to spread your spit all over it. before it could dry on him, he guides your head even closer to his dick, and just as you open your mouth and put your tongue out, thinking it was finally, finally time for you to get your treat, anton just angles your head upwards so his cock slides from your tongue straight to your cheek. you let out a whine, feeling your eyes start to water from the frustration and the air hit your sopping wet pussy uncomfortably. your boyfriend coos at you, leaning to give your forehead a chaste kiss before saying "it's okay, baby. you're okay."
anton just kept rubbing your face against his shaft, getting it sticky with his precum, which drooled nonstop from his tip. he looks you in the eyes, lightly slapping his cock against your cheek as he moans, "say 'please, i want your cock', baby."
"please, toni, i want your cock so bad!" you cry, eyes watering again.
anton laughs, his eyes turning to small crescents, such a cute expression clashing with the tension in the room. he traces your mouth with his tip, and it takes everything in you not to stick your tongue out and lick the precum you feel being smeared on your lips. anton's eyes kept following the repetitive motions he was making as he rubbed the head of his dick against your skin, letting out a shaky exhale when he felt himself get harder from looking at your eyes, shiny with unshedded tears, all because you're so in love with his cock. "say it again," he whispers.
"i need your cock in my mouth, please, toni, please. i need it," you say as your tears finally start falling, the feeling of your lips brushing anton's tip with every word you speak sending your body into overdrive. you needed him so bad, and you needed it now—you can't take it anymore.
anton smiles again when he says "you're such a good girl for me, pretty," both his hands letting go of your hair and his shaft to wipe away your tears. your eyes roll back and you whine quietly, both from the praise and the distinctive smell of his dick reaching your nose even more strongly, as well as the stickiness from the precum coating his hand getting your face wet. when you open your eyes again, anton's hands caress your cheeks one last time before he leans back on the couch, saying the three magic words you've been waiting to hear all night:
"suck my dick."
your hands have already taken a hold of his base before anton even got the last word out. you think you hear the sound of anton chuckling, but you're too focused on the dick in front of you to care, so you just wrap your lips around its head, suckling on it eagerly and sighing contentedly as you're finally able to taste his precum, meanwhile, both your hands make circular open and down motions on his length.
a loud moan forces its way out of anton's throat, his head falling aggressively falling back on the couch as he says a raspy "fuck, you're making me feel so good, baby... love– fuck, i love how cock hungry you are for me," pushing his glasses, which had slid almost all the way down his nose, back up to see you better.
anton's words only serve to fuel you further, making you switch your movements so you're bobbing your head on his length, taking as much as you can without gagging, moaning each time you feel his dick brush the roof of your mouth and his veins graze your tongue. when your jaw starts hurting, you hold anton's cock just under his tip as you slide your lips along his shaft, giving your boyfriend's pretty dick some much deserved kisses along the way. you murmur between kisses, "love your dick so much, toni. tastes so good in my mouth," smiling up at him as you give his tip a soft kiss.
anton's breathing gets even more ragged with your teasing act, eyes dark with lust as his right hand wraps around yours and slide it down to his base while his left one travels to tug lightly on the hair at the back of your head again, moving it up and down his entire length, making his cock, now coated in your saliva, shine under the dim lights of your living room. "fuck, baby, lick this dick. it's yours," he groans, a loud whine leaving your open mouth at his words. you swirl your tongue around his girth, steadied by his hand, while he keeps moving your head as he pleases.
you feel your boyfriend's toes start curling where his feet brush your knees, which were starting to hurt from being in this position for too long. the thought is pushed to the back of your head, though, as you take anton's hand off your hair, interlocking your fingers with his while you go back to taking his cock as far as you could in your mouth, your pussy feeling wetter than ever as you thought of drinking all of anton's cum.
"fuck, yes! this pretty mouth is feels so good... drink it all up, okay? but don't swallow yet," anton says, tightening his hold on your hand. you just hum around him in agreement, hearing him groan as the vibration goes straight to his dick. saliva keeps dripping from your mouth to yours and anton's joined hands at his base with how sloppily you're taking him into your mouth, going as fast as you can—and being spurred on by anton's loud moans—trying to milk him for all he's worth.
you feel anton's body go rigid, and you barely have time to brace yourself before you feel hot spurts of cum hitting the back of your throat, needing to cough a little to gather yourself and not swallow, like anton asked you. your boyfriend is heaving when you look up at him, skin incredibly flushed while he tries to come back to earth. when he gestures for you to get on the couch, you eagerly do so, since you're curious to know what he's planning, and it's getting harder and harder not to want to swallow it all as the taste of his cum sits strongly on your tongue.
anton is quick to pull your shorts down, discarding it onto the floor before taking your lips in his, groaning as his load starts dripping onto both your shirts, but he keeps kissing you until he feels some cum get inside his own mouth. you watch anton as he leans back, lightly pushing one of your shoulders in a quiet command for you to lie down. he scoots back on the couch until he has space to lie between your legs, and you can't believe your eyes when anton slowly spits his cum on top of your needy cunt, using it as lubrication to rub quick circles to your clit with his thumb.
"anton, fuck!" you scream, your thighs trying to close themselves from the stimulation to your bundle of nerves, but anton uses his free hand to hold onto one of your legs to stop you from stopping him.
"wanna make your pretty pussy feel good now, baby. i kept you two waiting for so long, right?" anton asks in mock sympathy, chuckling when you only manage to nod, no words being able to fight their way through your high pitched moans. "you're so wet for me," anton laughs more openly, then leaning further down to taste you, licking a stripe up your entrance until he reached your most sensitive part, your hands quickly finding their way to to his hair as you feel him start sucking on clit.
anton hums against your clit as he rubs your entrance with his thumb now, feeling your poor cunt clench around nothing. "fuck me, toni, please," you manage to beg between your cries from how good anton is eating you out, licking broad stripes and kissing along your pussy before going back to nursing on your clit.
your boyfriend doesn't waste time sliding two fingers into your cunt, letting out a groan when he feels how quickly they sink into you from how insanely wet you were. "is this good, baby?" he asks with a smirk before going back to licking your clit again just as he starts quickly thrusting his fingers in and out of you.
anton watches with glee as you shake your head, thigh still trembling in his hold as you pathetically whimper, "i need your dick," tears threatening to fall down your cheeks again.
having had enough of teasing you, anton smiles sweetly at you when you whine at the loss of his fingers. he sits back down on the couch and pulls you to his lap, one hand to your waist and the other already lining up his dick to your pussy, whispering in your ear "use my cock to make yourself cum, baby. it's yours." you shudder at his words and the way anton's breath brushes your ear, letting yourself melt even further onto him when he presses a wet kiss to your neck.
your hands find their way to anton's shoulders, supporting yourself before sinking down on his cock in one swift movement, much to anton's delight. it's like you're not even in control of your body anymore, your head completely devoid of thoughts, leaving you a whiny mess as you focus only on how your boyfriend's dick stretches you out. one of anton's hands has to reach to fix his glasses again as they have slid down his nose with how fast you were riding him. he couldn't bring himself to care that he had to fix his glasses every thirty seconds, not when he had the most beautiful woman in the world rolling her eyes in pleasure while bouncing on his cock as if it's the best feeling in world.
"god, baby, you're so fucking hot," anton says through gritted teeth, moving his fingers to your clit to help you cum faster. you cried in pleasure, sinking your nails in anton's skin as you spread your legs and put both your feet horizontally on the couch, pulling anton closer to you for support. anton felt his cock twitch at the sight of your wet pussy all spread out for him, swallowing his dick so deliciously. "you look so pretty using my cock," he groans, going back to stimulating your clit again even if his arm barely had space to move.
you really can't think anymore, the almost painful feeling of your incoming orgasm, and the combined sensation of your pussy clenching tightly around your boyfriend's thick length and his skilled fingers on your clit have you almost scared of passing out from the pleasure. you whine loudly when you feel it, your body shaking as you try to keep bouncing on anton's dick, but the force of your orgasm makes you fall forward, still crying from how good everything felt as anton kept rubbing tight circles on your clit. "stop, stop! please, it feels too good! it's too much, toni," you beg against anton's shoulder, but he doesn't let up, using his other hand to grab your hip to prevent you from getting off his cock.
"give me just one more, pretty. i know you can," he whispers so gently you feel your mind breaking even further, just taking what he gives you until you feel yourself squirting all over anton's shirt, biting his shoulder to keep yourself from screaming in pleasure. "yes, yes! good girl, my love," he says, smiling like a maniac as his fingers slow on you until he completely moves them away from your clit.
you're completely putty in anton's hand as he carefully moves you to lie down on the couch again, your body feeling like jelly. anton fits himself on his knees between your legs again, and even if you feel like you could faint at any moment, you feel your used, now empty cunt clench when you see anton slowly stroke himself as he watches you, cock still completely hard.
his hair is sticking to his forehead, his shirt, which was probably already damp from sweat was now completely drenched in you, glued to his skin and allowing you to see the rise and fall of his defined abs. he was also much redder than you have ever seen before. still, he watched you watch him beat his cock as if he could eat you alive—which he most likely was about to do.
"you're still clenching, baby? this pretty little pussy is so greedy, mhm? your mouth already had its fair share of milk for today, now i have to cum inside this pretty cunt too," he said filthly before filling you up with his fat dick again, a whine tearing its way out of your mind as he started fucking you in a merciless pace, your tired cunt clenching even more around him due to the overstimulation. "you're gonna be all swollen with my kids after i'm done with you... wanna make my pretty girl a mommy– fuck, i love your pussy," anton said, nearly whining as he let his forehead fall forward to touch yours, his hands on your hips pulling you towards him in tandem with his own movements.
"yes! yes, please, make me a mommy, toni," you whimper, biting your lip from how good you're feeling again.
anton kisses your forehead, the gesture gentle unlike the way he's plowing your pussy, and you feel his lips moving against your skin when he says "you're so good to me, fuck— i'm gonna cum! i'm cumming, baby, i'm cumming," he groans, rubbing your clit again while he pushes his cock as far as it can go inside your pussy, shooting his load inside you while you squirt on his shirt again, albeit less than before. you feel the weight of anton’s body on yours, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, seeking his warmth even if you’re both sweaty.
you both stay like this, wrapped in each other’s embrace, until anton goes completely soft inside you, and he leans back to take his shirt off to clean you up after he pulls out. you mumble, “can’t believe you ruined my couch…”
anton chuckles, throwing his shirt to the floor as he says, “last time i checked, i didn’t do any of this alone! but don’t worry, i’ll pay to get it dry cleaned, your majesty.”
you sit up and pull anton in for a soft kiss, smiling into it before telling your boyfriend a quiet “thank you.” you can’t resist teasing him a little bit further, though, so you say “but you know… all i wanted was to suck your dick; you’re the one who just had to fuck me. that makes you the one and only culprit.” anton just smiles and rolls his eyes, not bothering to argue with you, pulling you in for another kiss and sighing into it as he can still taste himself in your mouth. when he pulls back, you remember a certain cat who you haven’t seen in a while. you ask “where’s snowball?”
anton smiles mischievously, getting up to start gathering your scattered clothes from the floor, giving you a noncommittal shrug as he says, “in the guest room. already fed and probably sleeping.” your jaw drops, seeing through your boyfriend’s act just as he bursts out laughing, “oh, no! i’ve been caught!”
“i can’t believe you planned this! oh my god,” you laugh, picking up one of the pillows that had fallen to the floor to throw at anton, who doesn’t even try to defend himself, as he’s too busy laughing at you.
“babe, i’m not gonna apologize for knowing what my girlfriend likes. i mean, you get wet when i cook you dinner, i get hard because you love my dick… to each their own, you know?” anton barely even finishes his sentence and you’re already running after him, both your giggles echoing the throughout your apartment as you follow him to the bathroom, where you know anton will run you a bath and… god.
you can’t seem to stop pleasing him.
a/n: just realized maybe i shouldn't have named the cat snowball...
thinking about... anton who needs your tits in his mouth at all times
word count: 3.1k
content warning: fem reader, oral fixation, dry humping, breast play, p in v, unprotected sex, no real power play they're just teasing the fuck out of each other, begging, anton being a perv and desperate as FUCK, aftercare, anton drools a lot in this lol?
i feel like it's common knowledge at this point that anton really, might actually have an oral fixation. i mean, have you seen how often he touches his lips and the many photocards of him having random stuff in his mouth? yeah. personally, i also think anton is a boob guy. he doesn't care whether they're small or big, boobs are boobs and he's probably just happy he gets to touch yours.
that combo, though? ugh.
your boyfriend is the kind of guy who loves to use your boobs as a pillow, nearly making them spill out of your shirt with how much he snuggles his face to them because he needs the skin to skin contact. anton's a goner when you bring one of your hands to the back of his head to play with his hair while the other caresses his bare back, needy whines coming from his mouth as he shifts on top of you. you can feel something pressing against the soft insides of your right thigh and it doesn't take long until anton starts humping his semi hard cock on you, his breath coming out shallow—which leads to his open mouth getting drool all over your shirt and breasts while his grip on your hip tightens to hold you in place.
"oh, fuck– oh, baby... mhm, you feel so fucking good," he barely manages to let the words out with how much he's moaning, the friction on his sensitive dick, the soft skin of your boobs under his cheek and the way your nails scratch his scalp just right, pulling his hair every so often when he grinds too hard onto you... it's all too much. anton feels like he could cum from just this, but he can't. he won't.
though his right arm stays under you to keep you place, his left hand hastily moves to your shirt, his actions nearly aggressive as he pulls it down and guides your nipple to his mouth. you giggle at how eager anton always gets when he wants to have you in his mouth, but it's quickly suppressed by a heavy sigh when you feel anton's tongue licking the underside of your boob before sucking on your nipple as if expecting something to come out, already feeling yourself getting wet from his ministrations. he keeps his hand on your right breast to angle it towards his mouth as he refuses to lift his head from your left one, all while he still humps your thigh, albeit more clumsily now.
you hiss when he pulls back from your boob after a particularly hard suck, and the cold air hitting your spit slicked nipple makes it even harder, much to anton's delight. "need you in my mouth all the time, fuck," he moans, this time lifting his head so he can lick the entirety of your breast before starting to suck on your nipple again. he moves so he's sitting back on his haunches, placing your legs on either side of his waist before pulling the other side of your shirt so both your tits are out.
the first few times anton fucked you, he always went straight to your boobs first, which led you to try and take off your shirt to make things easier for him. depending on the day, he either would either whine or groan, but anton never let you take if off during foreplay—in his sick, perverted mind, he gets off so bad on seeing you all fucked out under him, the wetness oozing out of your pussy staining your panties and your tits pressed together, all bitten and slick with his spit, spilling out of your shirt in a tight fit. anton groans at the sight, "my baby looks so fucking good for me... i love you so much, you're so fucking pretty."
you grab anton by his hair again, a loud moan coming out of his mouth as you pull him towards you. anton barely has time to place his forearm next to your head to brace himself before your lips are on his, kissing him sloppily just the way he likes. in this position, he can hump your pussy instead of your thigh, and that's exactly what he does. anton angles his hips so his hard cock can grind on your neglected clit, all while you're kissing the air out of him and his free hand plays with your boob, lightly squeezing it and pulling on your pebbled nipple. when you pull back, you can feel anton's dick twitch against your pussy and inside his pajama shorts as he watches the string of saliva that still connects your mouths, licking it before pressing another wet, fat kiss on your lips.
anton doesn't waste time getting back to your tits, though, pressing both of them together before alternating between licking and sucking each of them. you let out whiny moans, needing some stimulation on your slick, empty cunt again, so you use your legs that are still wrapped around his waist to pull anton closer to where you need, making his dick perfectly grind against your clit. you keep using your legs to basically get him to fuck you through your clothes, making the two of you whiny messes, letting out loud moans you're sure your neighbors are hearing.
you can feel anton lose his focus on your tits due to how good you're making his dick feel. he stopped sucking on your nipples to just having his open mouth around one of them as he moans uncontrollably, his spit leaking out of his mouth and making its way under your shirt. when anton feels like he's getting too close to cumming, he grips your hips so fucking tight to stop you it makes you whine. he moves to kiss you messily again, your tongues sliding against each other in a way that makes your pussy clench around nothing. he's breathless as he says against your lips "baby, please, let me fuck this pussy. god, fuck. wanna fuck you so bad, i love your fucking pussy." anton can feel his sanity slipping even further when you let out an airy laugh and say "yeah? you wanna put your big cock inside me? you need it, baby?"
anton nods eagerly, his hold on your hips getting impossibly tighter as he tries to stop himself from grinding down on you, knowing he's too close to cumming inside his shorts. "i need it so much, baby, your pussy feels so fucking good on my cock. best pussy i've ever fucked, please!" as much as you love having a man like anton—big, hot, insanely handsome—nearly crying as he begs to fuck you, you feel like you're two seconds away from absolutely losing it if you don't impale yourself on his dick. you push his shoulder slightly to get him off of you, telling him "sit up, baby" when he whines, thinking you're gonna leave him like this. when he sees you pulling your panties down, his eyes glint with a newfound desperation as he quickly discards his pajama shorts, moaning when the cool air hits his cock that's been drooling with precum from the moment you put your hands on his hair.
it takes all your might to focus on just telling anton to rest his back against the headboard and not lean down to put that perfect, twitching fat dick of his inside your mouth. you lick your lips as if you could already feel the taste of his skin and precum on your tongue, but you unfortunately have more pressing matters at the moment. as you lift one leg to straddle anton's lap, his left hand immediately finds your waist, finally tugging on the hem of your shirt to take it off of you. anton then pulls you flush against his chest as his other hand holds the base of his dick to slide his slick head against your folds, making you both sigh needily. before you can cuss him out for taking too long, he pushes your hips down in one swift motion, forcing a loud whine out of your throat as you feel your pussy get completely stuffed from his big cock.
"fuck, toni, that's it" you moan you set a quick pace on his dick, exerting yourself to the max as you need to almost stand completely on your knees so you can ride the entirety of anton's length before sliding back down. even if riding your boyfriend is tiring, you keep letting out high pitched whines every time you bottom out, feeling high off the way he makes you feel so fucking full. anton, on the other hand, feels his dick get even harder from how warm and tight your walls feel sliding against him, the wet sound of your ass hitting his thigh making you both delirious. what really gets him going, though, is hearing you whimper when his hands on your hips slightly shift your position so his fat tip nudges the deepest parts of your pussy. one of anton's moves from your hip to curl around the hair at the back of your head, tugging on it just enough for it to sting a little as he pulls your face closer to his. his tongue wastes no time diving into your mouth as soon as your lips touch, sliding against yours in a rapid but sensual rhythm that had you both moaning into each other's mouths. when anton pulls back, he leans away only enough for him to be able to whisper against your lips "i swear to god this pussy was made to take my dick. i love it so much," making you whine as you felt yourself gushing and clenching even more around him.
anton feels like he could seriously detach himself from how good you're making his dick feel and cum solely from watching you rolling your eyes back due to the almost painful pleasure you're feeling. the way your boobs move up and down, in tandem with your movements on his cock, feel downright hypnotic—he only realizes he had been staring at them with an open mouth like a freak when your hand slides up from his shoulder towards his face, using your index finger on his chin to make him look you in the eyes while your thumb cleaned the saliva that had drooled from his mouth as he was gawking at you. you then slowly move your thumb from the corner of his lips and into his awaiting mouth, feeling yourself smirk as anton closes his eyes and moans around your finger, feeling you slow down your pace until you're grinding down on him instead.
when anton opens his eyes again, he barely looks into your eyes before his gaze drops to your boobs again, squeezing your waist tightly. he mumbles something around your thumb and you pull it out of his mouth to let him speak. anton lets out a raspy and hushed "need them in my mouth so damn bad," before he plants both his feet on the mattress and slides down on it so he's now lying on his back. you position your hand flat beside his face to support yourself as you playfully roll your eyes, letting out a breathy laugh while you caress his soft cheek with your free hand, saying "you're such a perv." anton laughs too, but he quickly masks it with an exaggerated pout. he pushes the side of his face further against your palm like a needy cat as he blinks up at you before he brings his hand to yours, holding it so he can press a kiss to your palm without breaking eye contact. when anton brings his hand back to your waist, he says "i just love you too much, baby. could worship you all day..."
that seals the deal for you. you can't spend another second feeling him twitching impatiently inside you, so you just decide to give the man what he wants—you lean down so you're supporting yourself on your forearm instead of your palm and use your free hand to guide one of your breasts towards anton's parted lips, the corner of his eyes already lift up with happiness. the moment he latches onto your nipple, anton's hands slide down to your hips to hold you firmly as he starts to quickly thrust into you from below. you whine loudly from how hard and fast he's fucking you, just the way you like, and you use the hand from the arm supporting you to tug at his hair, trying not to let your body give up and fall on top of his. "toni," you whimper, pulling his hair harder to alleviate some of the immense pleasure you were feeling. "your dick feels too good– oh my god, it's too fucking good!"
anton moans around your tit when he feels you pulling on his hair, feeling himself getting close from all the stimulation—your filthy words ringing in his head, the pain on his scalp, your wet pussy clenching tightly around him and your nipple getting harder and harder against his tongue—so he moves one hand to find your clit, his fingers almost slipping past it from how wet you are. in the back of your mind, you think it's all too much much for him to be sucking your tit, fucking you that fast and now he's trying to stimulate your clit too, but the thought quickly slips from your mind when his fingers start rubbing it in fast up and down movements.
"fuck, fuck, fuck, toni, i'm cumming, plase don't stop!" you manage to say between loud moans, and anton lets your breast fall out of his mouth to groan "fuck, yeah. cum on my cock, baby, i wanna feel it." hearing those words is all that was left for you to finally reach your breaking point, opening your mouth in a silent moan as you feel yourself spasming on anton's dick.
when it's finally over, you're gasping for air as you let your body slump over anton's, feeling too weak to keep holding yourself up. you let out quiet little cries as anton keeps fucking you fast and steady, laughing deliriously between groans with how good he felt "you're amazing, baby, fuck. i'm gonna cum so fucking much inside you," he says as he uses the hand that was previously on your clit to hold your hair and keep it away from your neck so he could kiss it. you feel tears sliding down your face as anton's thrusts get impossibly faster, and he groans against your neck "oh, pretty girl, i love using your pussy so much– i'm gonna cum! i'm gonna cum so much inside you, okay? take it– fuck, take it all, please!"
you're not even registering his words anymore from how overstimulated you feel, just nodding along to whatever anton is saying and begging him to finish already—both because you're so tired and because you absolutely love when he cums inside, "please, toni! give me your cum, please, baby!" anton groans loudly, latching his mouth onto your neck before wrapping his arms around your waist to hold you flush against him, fucking a few more hard thrusts into you before he stalled, lifting his hips from the mattress with how hard he pushed into you. all you can do is sigh and sniff tiredly against anton's hair as you stop crying, your entire body trembling as you feel your pussy get even more stuffed, both from anton's big cock and his cum—which, as he promised, was a lot.
anton keeps holding you on top of him as you both calm down, waiting for your breaths and hearts to slow down and pressing reassuring kisses to your shoulder. when he feels like he can move again, anton gently pushes you away from him to lay you down on the mattress, chuckling when you groan in complaint as you feel his dick slide out of you and his load start to drip down your thighs. he gets on his haunches between your legs again, being careful to keep some distance between both your crotches are you're still sensitive.
you're still kind of out of it, your eyes closed, when your boyfriend leans down to press a chaste kiss against your lips, barely having the energy to kiss him back. anton proceeds to press kisses all over your cheeks, forehead, jaw and neck, mumbling against your skin "that was so good. you're so good to me, my love," making you smile and sigh happily. when you don't say anything back, anton pulls back to get a better look at you and says teasingly "what? i fucked you too good and now you can't speak, baby, is that it?"
you finally open your eyes to give a deadpan look to your boyfriend, saying begrudgingly "you're so annoying..." anton laughs, lightly pinching your side and making you flinch, "oh, so now you can speak?" you just roll eyes, barely stopping yourself from laughing too. he moves to lay beside you, pulling you close to him so your head is resting on his chest and his fingers are tracing shapes on your back.
anton has half a mind to grab tissues from his bedside table to clean you up when you distract him by asking "are we really gonna stay in bed?" you slightly lift your head from anton's chest to look at the time on anton's clock at said bedside table, letting your head fall back down as you comment "it's, like, way past noon. aren't you hungry?" you don't have to see it when you're able to hear the cheeky smile on anton's face as he says "babe, my mouth was full ten minutes ago. i'm doing great." you playfully push his body away from yours in mock exasperation, which gives anton the opening he needs to quickly lean down and give a quick suck to one of your nipples. you push him away again, laughing, "oh, my god! you're worse than a baby!"
anton just smiles up at you, moving up to kiss your lips before a smirk takes over his face. you feel one of his hand sneaking its way on the side of your body as he says "besides, even if i start feeling hungry, i have a full course meal waiting for me right here." before you can ask him what he means, anton's fingers find your pussy again, making your body twitch from sensitivity as they slide through your folds to gather the remnants of your slick and his cum. anton brings his now wet fingers to his mouth, groaning in delight at your combined taste.
he pulls his fingers out of his mouth with a pop, smiling deviously as he says "delicious." as you stare at him, you swear you feel yourself start getting wet again, so you pull anton towards you to kiss him hard, feeling his spit slicked hand hold your hip tightly as anton moves his body from his side to fit between your legs again. you speak against his lips "you're a freak."
"just for you," anton smiles before leaning down to kiss you again.
a/n: can you guys tell i wrote most of this when i SO pissed off and wanted a pretty man to service me and make it better? also, this is my first time writing a full blown smut (and in english, at that) and it took me three days to write it lol be kind, guys 💔
huhu a much awaited commission. sorry for the wait, but i hope i rectified it by going overboard on the wordcount (YES i got carried away)…anyways i hope you guys all enjoyyyyy. i listened to skin by mac miller while writing this
contains: anton is a little evil (maybe even more evil than the first part), loss of virginity, they wear a condom (yay), themes dealing with innocence and slight dynamics that come with that
part one | part two
Anton shuffled behind Sohee through the study area of the library. Separate from the computer lab on the other side of the floor and pods for group work upstairs, it was the common silent area. The library was old and grandiose; the ceilings went up high and arched with windows so the natural light could shine through.
The pair weaved through the long wooden tables where people sat sparsely, focusing on their work or pretending to do so. Anton saw people shopping on their laptops, switching attention from their phone propped on the screen and their work. He followed Sohee past the long tables, because his friend hated when it would get packed and people would sit by them. They went to the circular tables in the dusty abandoned corner of the library. They both took their seats, leaving one between them. There were two other seats, a guaranteed table to themselves unless the library got too packed. They both silently cleared off the table of the crumbs from snacks and rings of condensation from cold beverages.
Sohee sat down first. Anton took off his green bomber jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. He kept his gray zip-up hoodie on, remembering the draft that would come through each time someone opened the doors.
“What are you working on?” he asked Sohee.
Sohee was already settled, putting on his wired headphones and opening his laptop.
“Rewatching an old lecture,” he answered. Anton watched the blue light illuminate his friend’s face as he narrowed his eyes. He spoke quietly, chewing on his bottom lip as he focused to find what he was looking for. “What about you?”
Before Anton could answer, Sohee pressed play on the lecture. With the audio jack not fully in the socket and his volume all the way up, it played loudly in the only silent zone of the library. Sohee’s Organic Chemistry professor introduced herself to everyone, bringing all the attention to their secluded corner. The video was also going twice the speed, making her voice high-pitched. Anton ducked his head immediately. Sohee kept panicked eyes on his computer, plugging in the audio jack all the way and pausing the video at the same time.
“Please don’t embarrass me,” Anton groaned.
“It was an accident!” Sohee said quietly.
Anton did a quick canvas of the area. Everyone in the library went back to focusing, a few were broken out of their stupor and left to loiter in a different spot on campus. Anton looked up to the stained glass windows to feign indifference, then went back down to the rest of the library.
Anton caught the eye of a group of girls sitting at a circular table they did not pass on the way there. They were all looking at him, alternating between pretending not to stare and talking amongst themselves in low voices.
Sohee eventually caught their eyes, he was looking over the top of his computer before shrinking into his chair further.
Anton didn’t comfort his friend by telling them they didn’t care about the abrupt sound of his computer. Maybe it brought their eyes to the table—because Anton knew him and Sohee blended in and never grabbed attention—but Anton knew that he was the reason they did not look away.
He recognized them quick. Their names were currently slipping him, but he knew their faces.
The girl that hid her face in her hands was the first one Anton met last semester. She sat in the back of the Romantic Literature class because she didn’t know anyone. Anton remembered seeing her annoyed face when she realized he took the innocuous spot in the back row that would never garner the attention of the teacher. He purposefully came to class early to secure the same spot again, and sheepishly asked her if she wanted to sit there when he caught her eye. The first break in class she leaned over and asked his name. He played with his pencil when he quietly said Anton, and made sure to smile back when she repeated his name to him.
Over the course of a week the amount of seats separating them got smaller and smaller, until she sat beside him one day to ask for help on an assignment. Anton found out that she was a new pledge at a sorority on campus, and she was upset that her work study kept her from being in the same class as her sisters. She told him that she was cursed, because the early morning classes forced her to go back to an empty sorority house in the afternoon. She repeated that it was so lonely before she asked Anton if he had ever been in a sorority house before.
When it was just the two of them working at the large dinner table the girl told Anton she thought he was cute. She thanked him for the good seat because the professor never called on her and thanked him for giving up the answers to their assignments so easily. Anton was nodding his head without making eye contact but had her bent over the communal dinner table less than ten minutes later, looking at the Greek letters embroidered over the ass of her blue velour track pants. He ran his fingers over the stitching before he was pushing them down her legs.
Anton proved to not judge a book by a cover so well that fateful early afternoon that she told her sorority sisters about him. Anton spent the next month playing his game with an entire sorority. He was passed between rooms of the house, coming in the midday for the top bunk and then after his night classes he was there for the bottom bunk. He was passed off at house dinners like a baton, pulled away to dark secluded corners during their socials. By the end of the month Anton could barely walk and had lipstick marks on the collars of almost all his shirts.
He had played the same game with all of the girls. He came over under the pretense of helping with an assignment if they shared a class, or the girls would approach him poorly hiding their true intentions. Bumping into him while he had his head ducked walking to class, coming up to him in the dining hall when he was by himself. Each time Anton let himself get red in the face, fake hesitating before agreeing and pretending to be surprised when he was lead back to the same house.
Anton saw the same manicured nails dragging against his skin, teasing him before they realized he was fully capable and lips that pressed into a straight line when they realized what their sorority sisters were saying was the truth. He was sure even if he was the topic of discussion a few of them stretched the truth. But Anton kept up appearances each time he left the sorority. He was covered head to toe, apologizing profusely if he ran into any of the girls in the house. Sometimes the girls walked him out on shaking legs, giving him a bye Anton in a saccharine tone, like he didn’t have a hand clamped over their mouth to muffle the volume in private.
Even now they treated him like he was a shy spectacle, one of them waving to him playfully before the rest of them smirked. He knew the game. Anton looked around and waved to them before going further into his jacket to look flustered.
Sohee was peering from the side of his computer to see what was happening. All of the girls were waving back before going back to work, giggling and talking lowly amongst themselves. When Anton felt like they were looking again he ducked his head, appearing shy and angling his back so they couldn’t see his smile.
He looked up at Sohee a moment later to see his friend looking at him in disgust. He shook his head before going back to his screen.
“You are a disgusting perverted freak,” he said.
Anton made a point to not tell Sohee about his conquests. His roommate was consistently the most horrified of his friends when hearing about his stories. Anton thinks it’s because he’s been going steady with the same girl since highschool and is permanently traumatized from the STD portion of Sex Education class he was forced to take in junior high. He tried telling Sohee that he always uses protection and he’s not fucking every single girl he meets. His friend never wanted to hear it, plugging his ears and shaking his head anytime he’d try to start.
When all the girls got up and left, Sohee casted one more glance towards the table. When he realized they were gone he pushed his headphones off his head, looking at Anton.
“Did you have sex with all of them?” Sohee asked quietly.
Anton shook his head. He wasn’t convincing enough because Sohee put his headphones back on and went back to his work.
Anton watched his friend go without saying a word for only a minute before he leaned in close again.
“You’re someone’s future husband, Anton.” Sohee typed on his computer, barely paying him any mind as Anton moved a seat closer. “I think you should really start acting like it.”
“Who says I’m not preparing for my future wife?” he asks. Sohee gives Anton a pointed look but he remains neutral. “God forbid I want to take care of every girl that comes across my path.”
Sohee scoffs, still watching the video. Anton lets it sit in the air for a minute. He swears he can feel the attention back on him from the table filled with the sorority girls. He leans across the empty chair between them to get closer to Sohee.
“Why are you scoffing?” he asks teasingly. “I have more experience than you.”
“If you call haphazardly slinging dick around campus experience then yeah. You got me there,” Sohee says.
Anton knows that his philosophy is lost on his friend. He could sit here all day and explain that he’s teaching girls on campus to not judge books by their covers, that he’s working hard to close the orgasm gap between men and women, and he’s preparing himself for his future girlfriend. He knows Sohee won’t understand because he thinks Anton is actually fucking every single girl he encounters, despite him saying that’s not the case.
“I’m not about to debate hoe politics with you. If you wanna be a gigolo go ahead,” Sohee says.
Anton can barely respond as he still feels a piercing gaze from the table. He rubs the back of his neck, still giving Sohee a fake smile just because it pisses him off.
“I’m not a gigolo,” Anton clarifies, putting a hand on his chest. He splays his fingers over his heart. “I’m a sweetheart.”
“You’re a lascivious pest and sex deviant,” Sohee says.
Sohee’s deadpan gives Anton a perfect opening to laugh and look towards the stare he still feels. He veils his quick look around of the library as benevolence, he even messes with his ear to give him more of a reason to turn his head towards the presence.
Anton stops in the middle of his investigation when he sees you. You’re sitting at the long table where the sorority girls had you previously covered up. You sat alone and in the middle. You stare right at Anton. It’s the most serious he’s ever seen you, eyebrows narrowed and your lips pulled to a slight frown. Anton has never seen you look so intense, he even looks behind him to double check he’s the one you’re looking at. When he realizes nothing’s behind him except rows of shelves and windows he knows the look is just for him. Your gaze is unfaltering, it almost feels like you’re looking right through him.
He’s shocked because he hasn’t seen you lately. Anton hasn’t seen you lately. Not in the context he used to. There hasn’t been partner work happening in your class. You haven’t talked to him because you haven’t had to. He has caught your eye, glaring and incessant like it is now. He’s sure you don’t even know how obvious your stare is, because he has looked towards you and you jerk your head away a beat too late. You do the same thing now. Anton makes eye contact with you and you look down at the wooden desk, trying to look inconspicuous while messing with your hands.
You don’t have the books you clutched close to your chest or the backpack you went nowhere without. Anton wasn’t sure how long you’ve been there, or why you have no work in front of you. You look like you just threw a sweater on, your hair covered by the hood you pulled tight over it. Anton thinks you resemble the mess in your room when he came over that day.
Then after a moment he saw you abruptly stand up, causing your chair to slide loudly against the floor. You garner attention but you’re moving out of the room fast, stuffing your hands in your pockets while heading towards the exit.
“Do you want a snack?” Anton asks, pulling his jacket from the back of his seat and slipping his phone into his pocket. “I’ll go get us snacks.”
Anton thinks he hears Sohee say something but he’s focused on your back. Anton was nearly bumping into tables and people to try and follow you. The only way he was able to catch you was when you opened the large double doors, using your momentum and body weight to get them to open.
He was able to catch you then, carding through the creaky doors as they came to a close. He hit his shoulder but was more concerned with reaching for you. He knew you couldn’t hear him behind you because you jumped slightly when Anton gently touched you. Your speed faltered, and he took it as his chance to pull you by the sleeve into the secluded area with all of the vending machines.
He knows he’s sick. He’s breathing a little heavier from the chase and you’re taking in breaths the same way it did in your room. He gets excited by the surprise on your face and the clear fact that you don’t know what to do next. Anton purposefully holds onto you in the secluded room until you look down as his hand. He takes it away quick.
He lets the silence hang heavy, until you start shifting from foot to foot. He sees you avoiding eye contact, but when he catches it again he tilts his head to the side to try and be eye-level with you.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says gently.
He lets his eyebrows furrow in confusion and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He closes in on himself, slouching more and hanging his shoulders. He sees you part your lips. Anton makes himself look even sadder, pouting ever so slightly when you still say nothing.
“What are you doing here?” Anton asks.
You’re silent. Anton sees your hands stuffed into your pockets, he can tell that you’re picking at your fingers by the movement.
“Are you mad at me?” he continues.
He knew you were upset to some degree. He has been in this situation before. Girls tended to catch feelings, annoyed by his lack of response after everything. Despite feeling like he wanted to continue playing with you in that moment he treated you the same way, slipping back into the innocent and oblivious act after you came all over his hand. He kissed you a few times and was adamant about receiving nothing from you. He slipped away after a few minutes of domestic bliss, using his alarm for his next class as an excuse. Right before he closed your door he saw you prop yourself up by your hands on your bed, legs hanging over the edge and your pants haphazardly pulled up half of the way.
You hadn’t talked to him since then. He had figured you were going to avoid him and he’d avoid you as part of his facade, of course. He’s grateful that you caught him in the perfect setting. He can’t believe you found him studying in a dusty library with only one friend. He was wearing his thick frames today too, in baggy clothes that made him seem small. He thinks his voice even cracked because he asked you so quietly if you were mad at him. He was dejected, he was pitiful and ready to beg for forgiveness. He came closer until you had to look up at him. He finally put his hand in your own pocket, squeezing tight even if it was stiff in his grasp.
“I didn’t know what to do,” he added.
He’s a gentle giant. Even if he can’t say that he’s sorry because he doesn’t feel bad for anything. He’s just someone who just wanted you to feel good. He didn’t know any better. He thought leaving your dorm after was the best choice. He’s not the asshole you claimed he was in class despite finding amusement in the way you act around him now.
“You fingered me then just left,” you say.
Anton nods sympathetically. Your voice came out quieter than his.
“I just wanted you to feel good,” he says gently. He’s still holding your hand in the pocket of your sweater, and he’s gotten so close you’re forced to look up at him. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you.”
He’s not entirely sure if he’s telling the truth or not. He knows he could’ve kept going and that you wanted him to, but he thinks he was telling himself that he had already proved himself. He was sure you had enough to tell your other nerd friends about the experience. He was selfishly thinking in the moment that he should only go after nerds in hopes of evoking the same reactions that he got from you.
But he realized that was in direct contention with his current philosophy of teaching girls that he is more than capable. He didn’t want to overindulge himself in you because he’s not sure if he’d ever be able to go back. Ever since you he hasn’t been with anyone. The memory of you squirming underneath him and avoiding eye contact while pitifully asking for more has plagued his mind; he hasn’t been in the correct mindset to be with another girl.
Sohee talking about his highschool sweetheart crosses Anton’s mind. He has talked about how he doesn’t care about other girls or “proving himself” because he just wanted to be the man she wanted. Anton thinks about you looking up at him, silently begging for something you can’t bring yourself to articulate. You just start squeezing his hands back, trying to mimic that amount of force that he holds you with.
“I wouldn’t be overwhelmed,” you say.
He knows you would be. He knows that you know you would be. Your words are anything but convincing, like your vice grip on his hand is supposed to sway him in some way.
“I’m done with classes for the rest of the day,” you say. “I’m still in the same dorm.”
Before Anton can say he’s grateful you haven’t moved in the past week you detach your hand from his and start heading towards the exit. Anton is left in the room with the fluorescent vending machines before you pause right before leaving. You interrupt the flow of traffic for only a moment before Anton sees you turn around and walk towards him again. This time it’s you who comes in too close, forcing Anton to lean back.
“And I’m behind on coursework. So I need your help.”
You have never asked him for help on your assignments. If anything he’s seen you stay for office hours or ask the teacher assistant. Anton has never seen you ask for help so abruptly, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in loungewear. He can’t give you a reply before you’re shuffling out of the library with all of the other students.
After you left Anton was quick to leave himself. He told Sohee something came up, to which his friend covered his ears and shook his head vigorously. Anton thought about telling Sohee he was going to double back—which is something he has never done before—but he didn’t have time to waste. Knowing that you were waiting for him put a pep in Anton’s step. He wasn’t under a time constraint, no classes or work study was getting in the way of your schedules. Despite this, Anton was speeding through campus. He even took a shortcut and went through the emergency staircase to get to you faster.
He can’t believe he’s in the same situation with you again; he knocked the same and even waited in the entryway awkwardly before you beckoned him in the rest of the way.
You tried to be more controlling of the space. Even before he made a move on you the first time you seemed unsure to have him in your dorm. Your bed was made now. All your books and papers were put away neatly, everything about your room screamed that you knew someone would be coming over. Instead of sitting at your desk you lean against your made bed, hands behind you and holding onto the edge of the mattress.
Anton kicks off his shoes but stays by the closed door. He holds his backpack by one strap, teetering from side to side while looking around.
“You don’t need help with any assignments?” he asks.
He’s curious how you know about all the unsaid rules of him coming over. You said you needed help with work in the library, you’re wearing clothes that are loose and easy to take off. The demeanor you try to give off is even reminiscent of all the other encounters he’s had with girls on campus.
But Anton knows he has a role to play and will always do it. When you sheepishly shake your head he looks down, nodding slightly.
Anton puts his backpack on your chair, he takes off his bomber jacket to hang on the back of it. You don’t take your eyes off of him, he moves even slower across your room. He comes closer and closer to you. He sees you grip the edge of your mattress, leaning against it as much as you can while standing upright. When he could just reach out and touch you he stops, letting his eyes get big and worried.
“You’re sure?” he asks.
You nod. Anton remembers that you didn’t speak last time. He had to pull words out of you by almost begging you for an answer. He likes this though, getting closer to you and seeing you panic.
“You already did the discussion post and everything?” he continues.
You nod again. He remembers why he wanted to continue playing with you last time. Your eyes are already looking wet again, unblinking and wide.
“Wow,” Anton drops his jaw slightly and gets closer to you. He can feel you tense up. You look up to him almost panicked, he takes up so much of you without even coming close to you yet. “You’re so smart,” he praises.
Anton didn’t even have to lay out a trap for you. You came to him when he was least expecting it, and you brought him to your room under the pretense of dong something. He couldn’t have prayed for a better outcome.
“You know I tutor people for extra cash, sometimes,” you say.
Anton stops in the middle of closing the distance. He sees that you’re only looking at his lips instead of his eyes. You speak quickly like you did the first time he was here, saying whatever comes to your mind to distract yourself. He can feel puffs of air from your words against his lips. He lets your lips move so close to his. He comes even closer because you try to ignore it.
“There’s a sorority that’s really nice to me sometimes. They gossip with me and tell me things. Sometimes.”
You repeating words tells Anton you don’t fully believe yourself. He knows it’s hard to see genuine kindness in the actions of girls that are pretty and popular and in Greek life. He’s sure there’s a part of you that sees their kindness as cunning malice. Still though, he smiles and tilts his head, a hand going to your waist. He can feel you jump and the warmth from your body bleeds through your clothes.
“Yeah?” he asks.
He sees you nod absentmindedly, before your hand slowly goes over his on your hip. He can feel the slightest tremor in your hand before you hold onto him tight.
“How long have you been tutoring them?” he asks.
Anton doesn’t think you brought up him fucking the sorority you tutor to best him; he thinks you said it because you seem to be unfiltered, especially in moments of high tension. He was about to kiss you so you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. You can’t help it, evident in the way you speak first and react to your words a beat later. His question was followed by your eyebrows raising and he realized in that moment you almost didn’t suspect him to put everything together so fast.
“Since the beginning of last semester,” you answer.
Anton immediately nods his head sympathetically. He knows you must’ve suffered, knowing what you’ve known about him for so long and not being able to do anything about it. He imagines you sitting at the communal dinner table in the sorority, eyes wide and jaw slack as one of the girls told you about him. He thinks about you thinking about him, having the visuals of what he would do to them. He doesn’t think they’d lie to you. They had no reason to perform for you like they did with their sorority sisters, to lie and make it seem like they were throwing the shy nerd a bone. They probably told you in great detail to serve as a motivational story, or to prove to you that they don’t judge introverted people like you as harshly anymore. They probably didn’t hold back because they saw you as something that was sexless. They probably explained in great detail because they thought—maybe subconsciously, maybe outwardly—that it would never happen to you.
When you duck your head after giving your answer Anton puts a finger underneath your chin. You give easily to the small amount of force, tilting your head up until you both make eye contact.
“It’s okay.” Anton coos.
He knows you must’ve had conflicting feelings about him. He can’t even be blame you for calling him an asshole; he hasn’t shown you how much of a sweetheart he truly is.
Anton goes from just one finger to a full hand holding your face. He brings you in fully, pressing his lips to yours.
He’s unmoving at first, just to feel you guess on how to kiss him back. When your lips move awkwardly against his, he watches you close your eyes in a daze. You go through the motions, trying to employ human instinct or what you’ve seen in the movies. He smirks against your clueless lips before bringing a hand to close around the side of your face. He tilts your head up a little further and his hand on your hip wraps around your waist. He brings you closer, trying to suppress the smile from your inexperienced lips.
He slows down waiting for you to catch along. But he can’t help himself; the moment you catch on he unzips your jacket just so you lose your tempo again. He pushes your jacket off of your shoulders and you let it fall right off, going to the ground in a heap. You’re wearing an oversized shirt but he can see your perked nipples through the shirt.
“Wow,” Anton whispers when he pulls away from your lips.
He puts too much attention on you, because you bring your arms together in an attempt to cover yourself up. What you do only pushes your chest together, making them come out even more. Anton doesn’t know why your missteps turn him on. You’re clumsy, you’re copying what girls told you to get in this situation with him.
“Why are you smiling?” you ask.
Anton sees your swollen lips in a slight pout. They’re glossy from spit, and you’re still catching your breath from him kissing you earlier. He touches your hot cheek with his thumb, caressing your soft skin.
“I’m just so happy,” he answers.
Anton reaches his hand to the bottom of your shirt and lifts. You stick your arms towards the ceiling, and Anton pulls your shirt over your head. He revels in the quick sight of your chest exposed but your face covered by your shirt. He imagines how nervous you must be behind the fabric. Last time it was in the heat of the moment where you lifted your shirt up. Anton undresses you slowly before doing anything else. He wanted to play with you, and he wanted to take his time. He thinks he told Sohee to not wait up for him tonight. He’s grateful you’re diligent and have all your classes in the morning and you live alone.
He finally takes your shirt off and lets it fall to the ground. Your hands clasp at your sides, and he can see you hesitate before bringing a slow hand up to your chest. Anton is quick to put a gentle hand around your wrist.
“You don’t have to hide from me,” he says gently.
He thinks that he’ll never get enough of you. When he’s been with other girls he was chasing after the peak when they’d realize he was more than capable. He liked seeing their eyes get wide, how they’d hesitate and realize they were no longer throwing the nerd a bone. With you it was constant, you knew you were in over your head from the start. He wants to keep building on that until you reach a breaking point, he wants you to also get comfortable. He knows there has to be something lurking underneath your own facade, because you’ve been grinding on the thigh he pushed between your legs despite you trying to hide your chest from him. You even went as far to rest some of your body weight on his leg, and he swears he saw your other hand pushing at the waistband of your joggers. Anton pulls his leg away slightly just to feel your legs squeeze around his thigh to try and keep him in place.
“Can I, please?” he asks.
Anton doesn’t ask directly. He just lets his hands drag up your bare torso, ending at the underside of your breast. He knows you feel his warm fingers press into your ribcage slightly.
“You…you wanna touch my boobs?” you ask.
Anton’s eyebrows raise at your attempt to sound sultry. He wonders if the pretty girls in the sorority told you how to talk to him to try and command the room. Anton is almost amazed you managed to keep partial eye-contact while saying it, eyes focused on the tip of his nose. He’s bashful when he nods, like he’s been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to want. But you grab his wrists and chew on your lips at the same time, bringing both of his hands to your chest.
Anton reaches forward to cup your chest. His hand superimposes the skin, and he gropes you just to feel you spill between the cracks in his fingers. He kneads the skin and looks down at you looking down at his hands. He sees your body malleable to the force, leaning back and forth as he takes in more of you. He presses your tits flat to your chest, he runs his thumbs over your sensitive nipples. Everything he does illicits a reaction from you. He notices when he pinches your nipple your hand starts pushing at your waistband again, trying to take down your pants and underwear in one go.
Anton lets you. He even helps by taking away from your chest to pull your waistband down from the other side.
You’re completely bare except for a pair of black ankle socks. You’re wearing nearly nothing while he’s fully clothed and you don’t even seem to notice it. Almost immediately you’re putting your weight back on Anton’s thigh, and you’re puckering your lips to awkwardly kiss him again. He can feel himself feeding off of how exposed you are while he is fully clothed. You get enough nerve to wrap your arms around his body, but he’s feeling like he could swallow you whole. He feels your bare chest press into his, your tits flattening against him when they meet the hard surface. You press a kiss to his chin instead of his lips because your eyes are closed. He’s never had so much fun in his life.
Anton pushes his tongue in your mouth and leans into you, trapping you between him and the mattress. His body weight pushes a whimper out of you, and it goes right into his mouth. He thinks you’re leaving a mark on his denim from how wet you are. He wonders if he could keep you like this, kissing you and letting you grind on him with no rhythm until you cum. He could get you off without taking off a piece of clothing. Maybe you would catch him in the cafeteria next time and get all hot in the face talking about how he left you all hot and bothered and naked. He thinks about how much he’d have to give you for you to continue chasing after him around campus.
You push your own tongue into his mouth, not enough but then too much. Anton can feel the wet muscle run over his teeth then his lips, then you’re pulling away to catch your breath. Anton has to grip the bed with one hand to keep you steady, and he can feel your hold on him tighten. You almost instantly retreat your face into his neck, he can hear your breathy moans right in his ear as your hips become more erratic. You’re making the same sounds you made when he fingered you. He knows you’re close, you’re about to cum all over his jeans without even seeing all of him.
“How do you want it?” he asks right into your ear.
Anton has never been the type to verbally ask. Usually the girls would tell him what they wanted, or they’d silently fall into place like they’d done before. He asks you because he knows you’re not sure, and he asks because if he doesn’t get a specific answer he thinks he’d fuck you everywhere in this dorm. He’d make a mess of your tidy desk, put you on the counter next to your sink. He could even take you against the wall if you let him, or bent over your bed until tear marks stained your sheets. He needs your guidance because your uncertainty makes him harder in his pants and he thinks hearing your trembling voice as you try to boss him around is the last thing he needs.
The question was enough to pull you out of your trance. Your hips stopped moving in such a frenzy, your moans were replaced with ragged breathing. Anton hears you remember in real time where you were and he knows you can feel the bulge in his jeans against your thigh.
When you finally pull away from his shoulder he sees your wide eyes. Your face is glazed with a thin layer of sweat and glowing from euphoria. Anton can’t believe you seem so spent when he hasn’t broken a single sweat.
“How do you want it?” he asks again, voice gentle and unassuming.
He sees that the question registered the second time. You blink a few times, you stop putting so much of your weight on his leg. You look around your room and Anton doesn’t even know if you’re aware of all the possibilities.
“On my bed,” you smooth your hand over your mattress like he doesn’t know where it is. “I want to be on top,” you add.
He feels heat across his cheeks at the thought of you being on top. When you hesitantly turn around to get on the bed he has to wipe away a smile with his hand. He goes to the button of his jeans while you crawl to the center of your mattress. Anton doesn’t know if you’re purposefully perched on your knees, but you incite something in him all the same. He’s quick unzipping his gray hoodie, flexing in his white undershirt before he takes that off too. He’s honored to have so much of your attention. You seem to be so lost in him you forgot to be insecure or to hide your exposed body. Anton shamelessly looks at your naked body as he pushes his pants down his legs, leaving him in just his boxers.
Anton feels like he’s been working out just for this. He almost feels bad, like he’s ruining everyone else for you. He knows that he looks good because you told him, that he smells good because you told him that too. Even if you know he’s been around it must feel like he’s here just for you. Your eyes eventually go down to his thighs and what’s covered in the middle. He can feel himself pulsing in his boxers at your mouth slightly agape.
Still, Anton feels the need to keep up appearances. He crawls onto the bed timidly with sheepish smile like he’s afraid to take off his last garment. He just wants to be up close and touch you when you finally see the last part of him.
Anton lays on the bed right in front of you. Just like you said, he’s ready for you to put your knees on either side of his body and take what you’ve convinced yourself is yours. He still feels your eyes on his boxers, he props his up so he can lean on them. The sound of him moving across your creaky mattress makes you look at him in the face.
“Do you still want to do this?” he asks.
You nod your head. When your eyes wander back down to his crotch he moves again.
“Yes,” you say, nodding your head again. “I do.”
Anton lightly gestures towards his boxers.
“Should I?” he asks.
He lets the end of his sentence break off with uncertainty. Only then do you rise to the occasion, reaching your hands to the waistband. Anton helps with another pair of hands and lifts his hips. He pushes until his boxers are caught on his ankles. He has to bend his body to take it off the rest of the way, but can feel your eyes on his dick. It’s been heavy and leaking since he came into your room, he could feel the weight of it smacking against his lower abdomen after it was caught on his waistband. He even heard your weight shift so you could get a good look at it, and when he went back to being propped on his elbows you were shamelessly looking.
Just from your attention his dick twitches again. Anton uses his thumbs to pop his fingers, letting you get used to the sight. He loves that you can’t hide anything. He can see you nervously chew on your lip and shift your weight again as you settle on your haunches.
“We don’t have to, you know.” Anton assures.
“No, I wanna.” You point towards the bedside table beside his head and Anton follows your finger. “In the third drawer, there’s condoms,” you say.
Anton goes to the third drawer and opens it. He sees an opened box of condoms, a rose toy, and a dildo looking back at him. He pulls a condom from the ripped open packaging and brings it to rest on his chest.
“Are you seeing other people?” he asks.
“No,” you say while shaking your head. “I only took one out of the box because I was curious.”
He knows that you could’ve asked the same question back to him. He asked the question to be a tease, but you answered so honestly and quickly he almost feels embarrassed in return. He thinks about you touching the slimy latex just to see what it was like, or sliding it on your dildo before using it on yourself. There’s so much that Anton can do to you. His dick twitches against his stomach again and he can feel more precum seeping from his tip to cool on his stomach.
Before Anton can say anything else he feels your knees plant into the mattress on one side of his body. He feels the weight on his other side, and then he feels your hips rest on his. It’s a simple movement, but bold on your part. He wonders how long it took to work yourself up to this moment; have you been thinking about it since you saw him in the library? Since he left your dorm a week ago? He doesn’t know what to make of things, because you positioned yourself lower down his legs so you could both see his dick. He felt your hand wrap around him lightly, emulating what you’ve seen and heard. You hold his dick upright, and Anton can see the visual proof of how deep he’d be inside of you.
He falls to his back immediately, getting comfortable on your made bed. He hears you situate yourself while he stares at your ceiling. You make minor adjustments: changing the placement of your knees, moving further up his legs, finding out where to put your hands. Anton doesn’t stare because he knows you’d get nervous, instead thinking about those toys you kept in your drawer.
“You’re big,” you say.
Anton only nods against your pillow. He props himself back up when you stop moving, to see you inching further and further up.
“It’s not too big, right?” he asks.
He’s about the same size as the artificial dick you keep right next to your rose toy. He didn’t see it have the veins or the ridges like his dick does, though. He’s sure it doesn’t get warm or twitches like he does, either.
“Not too big,” you answer.
Anton grabs the condom off of his chest and props himself on his elbows again. He sees your eyes focus on the foil packet. He pretends like he’s going to open it but you take it from his hands eagerly, opening it up and taking out the slimy latex. Anton helps you by holding his dick upright, and lets out a sigh when you put the condom on to let you know it feels good. He pinches the tip of the condom to make sure it’s on snug, and lets go. You’re the one that keeps a hold on him, keeping him upright. He knows he’s heavy and pulsing in your hand. When you practice different grips on him he lets his head tilt back, he even bucks into your hand despite your weight resting on him.
“Feels good,” he sighs.
Anton feels your weight lift from him and is shocked to see you hover over his length. Almost instantly a hand is on your waist, stopping you from dropping down on him.
“Lemme prep you first,” he says.
You’re shaking your head and already dropping your hips onto him. Anton can feel his tip prod your entrance.
“Did it before you got here,” you say quickly. “I’m still wet too.”
He’s confused because he couldn’t have been more than ten minutes behind you. He left the library in a rush and took a shortcut. He can’t think of how fast you had to prep yourself for him, and that it was selfish for you to do it without him. He would’ve gladly used that dildo on you until you were ready for him.
Anton is also not entirely sure he was supposed to know that you were masturbating before he showed up. You said it in a haste because you were dropping further onto him, and he could tell you were nervous. He kept a hand on your waist in an attempt to stabilize yourself. Your walls were closing around him over and over again. Anton expects you to pause or to say it’s too much, but you keep going, slowly but surely all the way down. You squeeze around him sporadically the whole time, but when he’s fully inside you don’t let go. Your breaths are just tiny gasps, turning into a big sigh when you reposition yourself on him. Anton sees your shoulder snag from relief, and he feels your walls relax around him before squeezing him again. He let out tiny sounds of his own, bringing in a gasp to match yours and letting out sharp breaths each time you squeezed around him. He couldn’t tell if your body was trying to keep his dick inside or push him out. He knew that he couldn’t move, because you had a vice grip around him and refused to move.
In this position he sometimes found himself engaging in dirty talk. Sometimes he would taunt, or let out pitiful questions if he wanted to keep the facade going. He found it hard to engage with you because you said nothing to him. You were almost talking to yourself, saying that something felt so good. You refused to keep eye contact with him too, letting your head hang and screwed your eyes shut.
“Feels good, right?” Anton asked.
You just nodded your head as you continued to rock your hips. Anton kept a hand on your hips, holding your soft skin and guiding you to keep a rhythm.
Anton never took his eyes off of you. There was no reason to be mean to you, or to mock you. You did it all on your own, getting hot from the embarrassment of feeling it too much. He understands why you didn’t want him to finger you because you probably wouldn’t have been able to handle it. He watches you grind your pelvis against his, probably chasing after the stimulation of his dick moving inside of you. He doesn’t feel much from it.
Still, he lulls his head to the side, lets a whimper or a groan slip from his lips. He has to feed into your ego now, he’ll chide you for your selfishness and lack of endurance later. He thinks that faking it is enough of a punishment, because you’ll come back to chase after the noises he made just so he can deprive you of them next time. He’ll tell you that you have to try harder than that, engage your thighs to properly ride him and actually look at him.
Right now, he lets you have your fun because he’s enjoying it too. In the way that you’re so easily satisfied he finds himself feeding off of it, knowing that he has all that you need. When he bites his lip it’s not to keep the sounds at bay but to stop himself from smiling at how destroyed you already are.
You start grinding your hips the same way you were humping his leg, desperate and erratic. Anton’s hand on your waist is no match against you, so he goes back to propping his elbow up to watch you do your thing. Your hands go to his broad chest to hold yourself up. He feels your blunt nails digging into his skin from the pressure. He knows you’re close, because you’re babbling and saying incoherent things he can’t quite catch. Something about how you’re close, how it’s so deep, how it feels so good. Anton already knows all these things. If you opened your eyes you could see a fake pout and the faux understanding nod. Instead you’re invested in your own pleasure.
Anton lets you ride it out. You can’t even vocalize that you’re cumming because you’ve never had an audience before. Just like the first time he dictates when your euphoria begins, and you affirm it by quickly nodding your head. It’s the only time Anton sees your hips slow to a normal pace, and start lifting your hips to try and get a deeper grind. Anton knows that you’re prolonging your pleasure the wrong way because you’re running from it, but he lets you. Even when you lift your hips too much and the pulsing causes his dick to push right out of your pussy, and he’s wet and hot against his stomach sheathed in the sticky latex. You don’t care, because you’ve never had to care about anyone else and collapse right on top of him. Your sweaty body is pressed against his dry torso, and you lean on him with so much weight that his propped up body collides with the mattress.
Anton’s dick is still angry and twitching against his stomach. He was wound up from watching you but he says nothing. He gently rubs your back, matches your breathing to try and bring you back to Earth.
He thought he had lulled you to sleep, but suddenly he feels your head turn. Anton catches you kiss his cheek quickly, and you even keep eye contact with him when you speak.
“Thanks Anton."
Before he can respond he sees your eyes close and you drift to sleep. He's a sweetheart through and through, already thinking about how you'll be thinking about him when you wake up.
Warnings: explicit smut, enemies to lovers, sexual tension, mentions of violence, hunger strike, mentions of heats/ruts, a/b/o dynamic, Neteyam is a prisoner of war and therefore not treated nicely, oral (m receiving), praise kink, size kink, dom/sub
Summary: The mission was simple: keep the prisoner alive. But Neteyam isn’t interested in survival— he’s interested in you.
The cell they keep him in may be soundproof, but it is not, evidently, private.
There is nowhere for Neteyam to hide himself behind that glass wall. No shadow deep enough, no curve of bark or veil of leaves to soften his outline. He is framed instead, caught in clean lines and sterile light, his body a silhouette meant to be observed.
Anyone who steps into this room can see him immediately, can take inventory of him with a glance, can demand his attention without ever raising their voice. It strips him of choice, of distance, of the small mercies the forest always granted without asking.
You cannot help but think how foreign this must feel to him.
The forest offered cover and quiet protection. Vines, roots and towering trunks conspired to keep him safe, to blur his edges when danger drew near. If he chose not to be seen, then he would not be seen.
Here, the artificial light is relentless. It presses down on his skin, exposes every breath, every flicker of unease he can‘t fully hide.
Surprisingly, your patient had been doing better ever since your little private… appointment.
Still not fully ready to cooperate, Neteyam at least tried.
He resumed eating, drinking. The trays came back lighter than before, the water dispensers no longer left untouched. The edges of his aggression were dulling too. It wasn’t trust, never that, but something closer to restraint, a careful ceasefire he granted only in your presence. The sharpness in his stare softened just enough to be noticeable if one knew where to look. Guards reported fewer outbursts, fewer restraints. Fewer incidents that ended in broken bones and lost limbs.
Ardmore was satisfied.
And when Ardmore is satisfied, things move quickly. Your access was revoked with bureaucratic efficiency, your involvement reduced to a footnote in a progress report and your days returned to paperwork and stitching up soldiers, to compliance reviews and observation logs that felt increasingly hollow.
A few days passed in which everything appeared relatively normal. That was, however, until—
"He was doing fine," Ardmore says sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose as if the very thought irritates her. "Until you left."
"But I— I checked him," you reply, too quickly, hands tightening around the tablet you brought with you. "Multiple times. He was stable! You’ve seen the reports, ma’am, and you’ve seen him!"
You gesture toward the screen, scrolling through vitals, intake logs, behavioral notes. Everything is there to support you.
Ardmore’s eyes flick down to the data, then back up to you. Unimpressed. "What I see now is a problem." She says. "And somehow, it seems to have your name attached to it."
She taps the screen with his photo once, hard enough to make the tablet shake. "He’s threatening every other member of staff who gets within reach. I’ve had three formal incident reports in less than twelve hours." Her mouth tightens. "You’re the only one he hasn’t tried to tear apart," she adds. "So if the brat only wants to see you, you better make that useful."
You swallow and steady your voice. "But there’s no more indication of illness. No fever, infection o-or internal injury we haven’t already accounted for. His behavior improved under observation. There was no reason to assume this would—" you stop yourself before saying happen again.
She exhales through her nose, sharp and controlled. "And yet here we are. Which tells me either you missed something, or whatever you did worked only so long as you were standing in front of him."
The possibility that Ardmore had no clue that what she was saying had an entire different meaning to you was just enough to keep you from blushing.
Glancing back down at the reports as if they might suddenly contradict you (they do not), you find Neteyam’s recovery curve is there in clean lines and timestamps, his progress documented in language deliberately stripped of nuance. What you do not say, what you can‘t say, sits like a live wire behind your teeth.
You don’t dare explain that he wasn’t exactly sick in the first place. That the reason he was so on edge, his agitation and his aggression had followed a rhythm biology dictated, not pathology. That his body had not only been at war with confinement, with proximity or with his instinct sharpened by stress and isolation. But that your presence had mattered so much because you were a fertile female in the presence of a male just waiting to rut.
And most importantly, that he was only starting to cool down once you’ve, well, given him a hand.
That explanation would not survive this room.
Still, you know Na’vi ruts don‘t last longer than a week and they only occur every other month. It’s impossible that he‘s not acting like himself for the same reason he was just two weeks ago.
Ardmore straightens, decision made. "You get one more chance." She says. "You go back in there. You figure out what’s wrong with him —if something is wrong with him— and you fix it. If he deteriorates further, this stops being a medical issue and starts being a containment one."
Then her gaze hardens and she adds, "Do your job, doctor. Or things will become very uncomfortable for your patient."
You nod, because there is nothing else you can do.
— ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ —
There is nowhere for Neteyam to hide himself behind that glass wall. The sight is an uncomfortable one.
You wonder what it might feel like to be stared at day and night, reduced to a specimen, a problem to be monitored. Not a person, but an exhibit. An animal pacing in a space that’s too small, too bright and too exposed.
For the past two days, you have been studying him through the one-way mirror of his new cell.
At first, what you see seems to confirm the reports. He is volatile, restless. He prowls the limited space with agitation carved into every line of his body. He bares his teeth when guards pass and shoves untouched trays with food aside with deliberate force. Makes a show of it sometimes too, throwing it against the walls, snickering when soldiers forcefully pin him down while others hurriedly clean his mess.
But then you start to notice the gaps in between these moment. The moments when he thinks no one is watching.
When his shoulders lower and his breathing suddenly evens out. He sits instead of pacing, long limbs folding in on themselves, head bowed as if conserving strength. Sometimes he presses his forehead briefly to the glass, eyes closed. Not in rage, but in something that looks dangerously like waiting.
Soon, the pattern becomes impossible to ignore.
When the guards are present, he performs. But when the lights shift and the room empties, he retreats inward. When the observation indicators flick on, his posture hardens again, aggression snapping back into place like a mask pulled tight.
Neteyam is behaving differently when he knows he’s being watched.
And the realization settles in your chest with a sickening weight: he is doing this on purpose!
Oh my god, you think as you mentally slap a hand to your forehead, he’s faking it!
Or at least exaggerating it. Starving himself, provoking staff, escalating just enough to… he’s doing it to force your return! A calculated gamble made by someone with very few tools left. Someone who has learned, far too quickly, which threads to pull.
And while this act of him impresses you to an extent, it also makes your jaw tighten.
This needed to stop, you knew that with brutal clarity. You knew exactly how this would end if it didn’t.
"Thank you," you say tightly as the soldier unlocks the door.
He gives you a brief nod and steps aside. The door slides shut behind you, the lock engaging with a sound that echoes loudly in the sterile space. An hour alone and unobserved, per your request. Just you and him.
Your shoes click against the white tiled floor as you cross the room to the single desk, bolted to the floor in front of the thick glass wall, the boundary that keeps the prisoner contained and everyone else safe. You stop behind it, resting your hands on the cool surface and finally lift your gaze.
Neteyam is already looking at you.
The change is immediate and unmistakable. Whatever restless fury he had been performing dissolves the moment he realizes it’s you on the other side. His spine straightens, shoulders rolling back as he rises to his full height. There is a flash of something bright and dangerous in his eyes, satisfaction perhaps, maybe relief or… triumph.
His tail flicks behind him, betraying him even as he schools his expression into something casual. A half grin curls his lips, sharp and knowing, and he strolls closer to the glass like he owns the space instead of being trapped within it.
Fortunately, you have learned, over these weeks, to see right through him.
"Ah," Neteyam drawls, low and entirely too pleased. "My pretty doctor is coming to visit me again."
The purr beneath his words makes your jaw tighten further.
Frustration coils tight in your chest, followed close behind by anger. Anger directed at him, because he was so blatantly playing with his life! Because he was pushing a system that does not hesitate to break what it cannot bend. Because he is doing all of this just to see you again.
You don’t return his smile.
Instead, you step to the small access window built into the wall, meant for food trays, medication and controlled exchanges. You unlock it with a sharp twist of your wrist and slide it open.
It’s clear that you don‘t give him the attention he was fishing for in this moment and you let the silence stretch just long enough to wipe the smugness from his expression, before you slam down a small cup on the little tray and close the window shut with more force than necessary. His tail stills mid-sway.
Neteyam eyes you warily for a moment, rooted in place, before his gaze finally drops.
The container is made of clear plastic and has a red lid on top, his name and today’s date written in sharpie on its side.
"What is that?" His voice has changed. It’s colder, more serious.
"I need a sample." You say, mirroring his tone.
Cautiously, Neteyam steps forward. His three fingered hand reaches out to unlock the window from the other side, then he reaches for the container that looks entirely too small in his hand and turns it from side to side.
"A sample?" He repeats, clueless.
"Exactly." You nod. "Biology doesn’t lie the way behavior can and I want to prove that your rut has passed and you are feeling better. There’s nothing wrong with you that would requires me to be here."
Now that makes him grin.
"And how would you know I am feeling better, doctor?"
"I‘m not stupid, Neteyam." You let out a sigh, shaking your head. "I can tell you are just putting up on act so you can…" You drift off mid-sentence, suddenly feeling embarrassed for having to speak your theory out loud.
What if you were wrong? What if this wasn’t the reason he was faking it and you were just projecting meaning where there is none? God, you suddenly felt so stupid and self-centered. What if he wasn’t even doing this because of you?
"Can what?" Neteyam tilts his head curiously, waiting and wanting for you to finish that sentence.
"Forget it." You swallow thickly, then glance back at your datapad laying on the table. Everything to avoid his intense gaze as you muttered, "I need you to— to fill this for me. I will return later to collect it."
"Fill it," Neteyam echoed. His gaze then drops back to the container. Silently, he stares at it, turning it in his hand, then looks back up at you, his ears pointing upward and angling in your direction as if wanting to hear you better. "With what?"
"It’s—" you nearly choke on your own spit. Clearing your throat, you remind yourself that even after what had happened, he was still your patient and this was your job. Stay professional. "It’s a… I need a sperm sample."
The grin wipes off his face in an instant. Without second thought, Neteyam copies the way you slammed the cup down onto the tray earlier and steps back.
"No."
"No?" You let out a nervous chuckle. "What do you mean, no?"
But he doesn’t answer. He’s just staring— no, glaring at you from his side of the glass wall.
Ugh! Now was not the time to be stubborn!
Frustration raises in your chest again and you step closer to the glass, shoulders tense and brows pinched in a scowl. If he doesn’t realize how serious his situation is soon, this will be the death of him!
"Neteyam, they will hurt you! They will force feed you if you don’t—"
"If you need this sample so bad," he cuts you off, stepping closer to the glass until he’s towering over you again, "you should have used what I gave you the last time."
His words are hushed almost like a whisper, his voice low and gravelly, making goosebumps raise all over your skin.
"T-That not—," words fail you. Your eyes are darting back and forth, never able to look him back in the eyes for long. Then his hand is back on the wall and his face inches closer, close enough his breath nearly fogs up the glass.
"Or come in and get it yourself."
Oh.
Instantly, your back straightens some more. Memories of last time flood your mind, the way his skin had felt beneath your palm, his lips whispering filth against your ear, the warmth of his close proximity… the weight of his cock in your small hands.
You swallow thickly, then shake your head, only half convinced by your own words, "You know I can’t do that. F-For various reasons!"
Slowly, Neteyam leans to the side, eyes flicking past you toward the darkened observation window. The small indicator light remains off, which means there are no watching eyes. No guards either. He looks almost satisfied as he turns his attention back to you.
"You requested to be alone with me, did you not?"
"I— yes. Of course." You hesitate only a fraction before steadying yourself. "You’ve been attacking everyone else. The general gave permission for a one-on-one evaluation."
His mouth curves.
"Tell me, doctor," he begins, his arm bracing against the glass over your head, muscles shifting under striped skin, while his forehead rests against his forearm. His gaze drags over you, not subtle at all. His tail curls behind him, betraying an eagerness he doesn’t bother to hide anymore. "How do you expect me to fill this, hm? In a cell, where everyone can just watch if they decide to. They’re only giving me privacy when you are here to demand it."
Damn. He was kind of right about that. Surely, you could figure something out. You’re not quite sure a magazine is what would be of use for him, not that you had any laying around, but privacy, that you could arrange for him.
Clearing your throat, you say, "I can tell them to—"
"You will do no such thing." Neteyam cuts you off immediately. His eyes are pinned to the way you gnaw at your bottom lip and for a moment his breath comes out heavier than before. "What you will do, is help me." His other hand is now on the glass too, right next to your face. Indicating that if he could, he would’ve reached out to touch you.
You swallow to wet your dry throat.
"Come on, little tawtute [human]," his voice turns lower, a gravelly rumble coming from deep within his chest. "You know you are safe with me. Get this sample yourself and then you can leave."
"I— I can’t—" you stutter, the words almost a whisper as if someone might hear and fire you for them.
The grin on Neteyam‘s face momentarily disappears. Then he tsk’s and tilts his head, "I will be good from now on, make your little friends happy. And I will not hurt those pathetic sky-leeches anymore when they come to see me."
You speak without thinking, your face lighting up a little at his words, "Really? You promise?"
His lips curve up, the look on his face telling you otherwise, but Neteyam rolls his eyes and chuckles, "I can not promise, but I will try."
For a moment, you hesitate. But before you could think yourself out of this, you snatch the container off the tray and turn sharply toward the cell door.
The sound makes him straighten at once, but he doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t even speak. He simply watches as you cross the short distance, watches as your hand lifts to the keypad. For a full minute, your fingers hover there, suspended, trembling faintly over the numbers.
Then you finally enter the code and the door unlocks with a soft hiss.
Satisfaction flashes openly across his face, but he remains where he is, rooted and obedient in a way that feels anything but submissive. He is waiting for you to come to him.
Your breath catches as you step inside.
The door seals shut behind you, and the space feels instantly smaller. Your hands tremble as you slowly step in front of him and god, you tend to forget just how tall he truly is. How much presence he carries when there is nothing between you but air. You would have to tilt your head all the way back to meet his eyes, which is exactly why you chose not to. It gives you at least the false feeling of space between you and the prisoner.
Of course he’s having none of that.
One large hand lifts, gentle but assured, cupping your chin between long fingers. His touch is warm and entirely deliberate. He tilts your face upward until you’re forced to look at him— really look at him.
You bite back a small, traitorous whimper of nerves, your throat tight, heart racing.
Neteyam’s eyes search yours, dark and intent.
"So brave," he then murmurs softly.
You gulp.
"H-How do you want me to…" There’s no need for you to finish that sentence.
"Get on your knees, sevin tawtute [pretty human]."
With wide eyes, you stare up at the na‘vi male in front of you. For a moment, you mind goes blank.
"But I thought," your mouth opens and closes as you struggle for words. "That’s… But I— I can’t contaminate the sample, you have to—"
With a hand clasped over your mouth to silence you, Neteyam playfully shakes his head in disapproval.
"Mawey. You talk too much, little doctor." He cooed softly. Then, without having to use much force, he was using a hand on your shoulder to slowly push you down to your knees. And you let him.
"I will get you your sample, do not worry."
Neteyam has this piercing stare that could make a grown man cower, but right now, he was looking down at where you kneeled in front of him with so much lust in his eyes that you shuddered.
Your gaze tracks the movement of his hands as they untie his loincloth.
Up close, he’s so much bigger than you remember. And again you’re reminded about how his cock was probably the most visually pleasing part of any man you’ve ever laid your eyes on. And already, it’s wet at the tip.
Unable to peel your eyes off of his length, you swallow the salvia pooling in your mouth. There was no way you would be able to make that fit.
"It will." Neteyam chuckled softly, breaking you out of your trance. Your eyes finally flicker to his face.
"H-Huh?"
"It will fit," he said lowly and so very full of confidence that you could practically feel it. "If that is what you were thinking about."
With a hand around the base of his cock, he then nudges his tip against your pretty soft lips, smearing clear pre-cum over them like lipgloss. His mouth opens, perhaps to compliment the way you look with his cock against your lips, but no words seem to come out. He’s entirely transfixed by the sight of your mouth against his leaking tip, so you slowly open up to let him in.
Your nerves feel raw and oversensitive, hands trembling a little as you hold onto his massive thighs for support.
Neteyam’s cock is smooth and hot as it slides over your outstretched tongue and you feel the little shiver going through him once your lips close around the head. He exhales a shaky breath and then you let your tongue swirl around the head, evoking a deep groan from the man above you.
Who would’ve thought that it needed this little stimulation for a man like Neteyam, a feared warrior, to crumble?
Slowly, you work yourself down on his length. The stretch of your lips is barely manageable, his girth making your jaw hurt already with how far you’re forced to open your mouth just to get half of him inside.
You know you’ve reached your limit when the mushroom-like head of him hits the back of your throat. And yet you could still close a hand around his length where your lips couldn’t reach.
Carefully, you swallow. Your tongue moves like a wave along his shaft, throat constricting around his tip and you feel Neteyams thighs tense. His abs flex as you glance up at him through your lashes, and he licks his lips as he stares back down at you.
"Fuck… I could get used to this," he mutters, tilting his head. One of his hands cups your jaw and he’s forcing just half an inch more of himself inside your mouth with a fluid thrust of his hips.
It’s enough to make you gag, but you stay put.
"My own tawtute [human] pet, sucking my cock whenever I want." The words come out as a breathy chuckle and the humiliation of it makes your cheeks burn hot.
Then he withdraws, sliding all the way out before thrusting back into the heat of your throat. Your eyes begin to water, but you focus on hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue along the underside of him.
"Haa.. so good," he breaths, "Your mouth is so warm and tight."
Neteyam’s body was curved slightly forward, abs flexing, thighs pushing outwards and a hand supporting his balance against the glass wall— his whole body a testament to the strain of already teetering on the edge. It makes you wonder just how bad he’d wanted this, how much he was waiting for the opportunity to get you back in here.
Your tongue flutters, before you draw it firmly up the underside of his cock. His length and specifically his tip was now flushed a deep, almost painful-looking purple color and you close your lips to suckle on the head, adding more stimulation to the parts of him that gave you the most reaction.
You repeat that a few times, dragging the flat of your tongue up, the tip of it flicking just beneath the head of his cock.
"G-Good girl, yeah keep doing that," Neteyam’s hips jerk at the sensation and he rolls his neck back with a groan, "so eager to please, aren’t you?"
Your skilled mouth slides down, throat muscles working around his length before you taste the sweetness of pre-cum leaking from his tip in fat tears.
"I wonder what your tawtute [human] friends would think of you," he breaths, his hand sliding into your hair, pushing you just that little bit closer to his base until you’re starting to gag again, "if they could see you right now. On your knees for me, with their prisoners cock in your mouth."
Neteyam’s expression is smug, but you could tell he was slowly starting to loose his composure. When he wasn’t talking, his jaw would hang slightly agape, his eyes glossed over in lust. The hand in your hair tightened slightly, using the newfound leverage to guide your mouth, up and down, up and down his length.
"I think," he swallows thickly, wetting his lips, "I think they would be jealous of me. Having such an eager, pretty girl all to myself. Just look you."
He uses the grip he has on your hair to pull you off of him until only the tip rests on your tongue, and he watches the way you pant for air, then eagerly slide back down.
"You love that, don’t you?" He chuckles. "Have you been thinking of me, little doctor? Have you been dreaming of this cock deep inside you? Of me?"
He‘s much more talk active when he’s not entirely blinded by lust and instinct triggered by his rut, you come to realize. And you tell yourself you let him talk to you like that because it’s helping him, because it’s ultimately helping you get this sample and prove that he’s been lying to everyone.
But deep down you know that’s not it. You feel the drenched fabric of your slip, the way it clings to your aching clit, the flutter of your inner walls. You feel the warmth in your core with every word, every praise that tumbles freely from his mouth. You were enjoying this.
And Neteyam tasted, simply- utterly immaculate.
You were drowning in the heat of the moment, eyes determinedly fixed on the task before you as if you were born to do this. Your lips tightened around the head of his cock, and you flattened out your tongue to run it against his tip, sucking every inch you could reach which made Neteyams cock throb heavily.
When you pulled all the way off to breath, you lazily twisted your hand around his base, until you felt his breathing pick up drastically. When you take him in again, you try your best to keep the eye contact, making sure he's watching as you sink onto it.
"Keep… keep going," he mutters, "I’m close."
Panting heavily through your nose, you then, very deliberately, swallowed around him. And with a noisy groan, Neteyam suddenly loses all remaining control.
He fists his hand in your hair and starts to thrust into your throat heedlessly.
"T-Tsìltsan. Nawm sa'nok [G-Good. Great mother]," he begins to ramble in his language, curses falling freely now that he’s ramming his cock between your lips until a mix of drool and pre-cum was running uncontrollably down your chin.
"Tsenga lu…[where is…]", he says in that urgent tone, but then seems to remember that you don’t understand him like this. "Where is the—"
The cup, he’s looking for the sample container! Distantly, you remember that it’s within your reach, and while Neteyam was still abusing the back of your throat with his harsh thrusts, you somehow manage to get the lid off.
Soon, you could feel his pace falter, so he pulls you off of him with a wet pop. Immediately, your tongue is replaced with the cup and you hold it right under his tip. The prisoner makes a guttural sound of pleasure when you wrap your free hand around his cock and begin to stroke him eagerly.
"H-Hold it, yeah just like that," Neteyam urges, guiding the hand that’s holding the container so it’s at a better angle. "I‘m… Txìm [shit], I‘m coming."
"O-Oh!" The first rope of cum takes you by surprise and you quickly move the cup closer to his tip.
Neteyam’s entire body tenses and he lets out a final breathy moan as he squeezes your wrist and comes, his cock twitching in a steady rhythm as he rides his pleasure high. You momentarily forget to keep stroking him, only reminded by the noises that come out of him that make him sound almost needy for stimulation.
There was so much of it, every time you thought he was done, more would come out and all you could do was watch him as he continued to shoot load after load into the cup that you now feared was too small to contain it all.
Once he was done and the cup was filled, you finally managed to peel your hands off of him.
With his chest still heaving in shallow pants, Neteyam gave a soft sigh as if disappointed at the loss of contact, but then quickly rearranged his loincloth to cover himself again.
The moment that followed was awkward and silent.
Your knees felt scrubbed raw and weak once he’s helped you up and you didn’t know whether to thank him or don’t acknowledge what had happened at all. Unfortunately you chose the middle part of it, and just embarrassingly avoided his eyes and tried to shuffle past him with the now warm and heavy cup in your hand.
To your surprise however, Neteyam stopped you.
A little gasp left your lips as a giant hand suddenly curled around your upper arm.
"When will I see you again, doctor?" He asked, head tilted in genuine curiosity.
When you didn’t answer right away, just stared up at him for a moment, his lips curled into a knowing grin.
"In your dreams, Sully." You answered in a hushed whisper, a sheepish smile making your lips curl up. His tail flicked once behind him, before his hands left and you proceeded to exit his cell.
Before you left, you glanced back at him, knowing that this might’ve been the last time you ever get to see him.
Neteyam just stands there at the glass, a satisfied grin making his canine come into view before he licks his lips and says,
I see exactly what he is doing! He’s playing his cards right! Playing fake sick so that he can see us is s romantic lol
We love a man that is obsessed and want to be with us 🙂↕️
But that your presence gad mattered so much because you were a fertile female in the presence of a male just waiting to rut.
When I tell you my kitty cat purred and jumped smh. I mean is it a potential 👀
“My pretty doctor is owing to visit me again.”
Neteyam don’t play with me 🙈 Now that will get a girl giggling.
I know for a fact we had to be angry with him because he’s not properly taking care of himself yet at the same time~ He did all that to be with us. 🥴
“And how would you know I am feeling better, doctor?”
He said he needs that sensual healing again, he’s not feeling too good lol
Yet us almost saying that he’s putting on an act so he can see us. Damn right girl and why wouldn’t we wan to go see our man?!
“If you need a sample so bad, use the one I gave you last time.”
THIS MAN. He is so diabolical 😭 Then stated come in there so we can get another sample for ourselves. I know he would be saying all types of nasty freaky shit. Like do we feel him inside smh. Yea he knows exactly what he’s doing.
You did so well this story Luna!! This is so well written. I feel like you written for Neteyam in the fic so fitted for him. He knew how to use his words to get the work around to touch us and be with us again smh
His other hand is now on the glass too, right next to your face. Indicating if he could, he would’ve reached out to you.
I feel like this part is a very key component part in the story a this given moment because I think this is when we realize he is starting to find a place with reader. He stating to truly feel her and see her as his mate.
What I am really worried about is that container will be contaminated and the results come back as some of our DNA is mixed in with his. Will that expose us?? Will we get in trouble from that?? 😳
₊ ୧ genre: slow burn, friends-to-lovers, emotional tension + soft smut and domestic intimacy. 𓈒 ׄ paring: anton x fem!reader
𓏸⠀ 𓈒 warnings/tags cursing, drinking/alcohol use, mentions of public sex, virginity loss, kissing, nipple sucking, slight dirty talk, fingering, nude photo mention, car sex mention, creampie, softdom!anton, virgin!reader 𓏸⠀ 𓈒 word count: 5405
𓈒 ׄ summary: you went to go hang out with your friends not knowing anton would be there, you two always had the weirdest relationship. never speaking but there was always something filling in the words you never spoke. after a few drinks and some games everything unfolds. ₊ ୧ m.list! 𓂃 ۪ ׄ a/n: i actually love writing soft!dom anton fics, i need him bad. (part 2!)
it wasn’t even that late. just 8pm on a friday, and with nothing better to do, you let kimmy drag you out to chill with sohee and wonbin. what she conveniently forgot to mention was that anton would be there. and of course, you hadn’t dressed up. just grey sweats, an old hoodie, and a tight tank top that fit wrong in all the right ways. the kind that barely held up against your chest.
place was lowkey dead when you showed up. wonbin and his girl were already cozied up in the couch corner like a damn movie scene. you and kimmy slid in fast, plopped down while sohee handled the food order, and made pointless small talk with the lovebirds like it wasn’t all background noise anyway.
and anton?
he was just… there. leaning in the corner, silent, eyes tracking the room. mainly you. like he was taking notes. someone put on music. it played low, just enough to keep things from feeling awkward. sohee ended up inviting jaehyun and his girl, and they pulled up right when the food did, bringing along two more girls like it was nothing. once the couch filled and everyone got comfortable, dinner was on, bottles of soju popped open, and things started to loosen up.
the girls were on him instantly. like moths to a flame. barely five minutes in and they were already clinging to anton’s arms, laughing too loud, touching his chest like it was a party game. he didn’t look amused though, not even close. his jaw was tight, expression flat, eyes flicking toward you every so often like he was silently begging for an out. like he hated how casually they were draped over him.
you kept quiet, half-focused on your drink and the way your hoodie kept slipping off your shoulder. a couple drinking games started up to break the ice. truth or dare got old fast, so someone suggested ‘never have i ever.’ classic. harmless. at first.
"never have i ever hooked up in a car."
sohee giggled, immediately taking a sip. three others did too.
"never have i ever had a one-night stand."
one of the random girls tossed in, locking eyes with anton as she drank. he didn’t lift his cup.
"never have i ever gotten head in a public place."
jaehyun grinned, and suddenly the room was louder, people ooh-ing, sipping. kimmy drank. so did wonbin’s girlfriend. you didn’t. you stayed quiet through a few rounds, fingers playing with the rim of your glass. the more questions were asked, the more it hit you just how little you’d done. your cup stayed frustratingly full.
"never have i ever sent a nude."
someone smirked. you hesitated. you’d sent one, barely. cropped. tasteful. still didn’t drink. it got tense when someone said:
"never have i ever faked an orgasm."
and all the girls laughed while you just looked down. then anton spoke. first time all night. voice low, smooth, cutting through the noise like a blade.
a: “never have i ever lied during this game.”
and for the first time, you felt his gaze pin you in place. your breath caught. your fingers wrapped tighter around the bottle.
you stayed quiet after the game ended. cheeks warm, stomach heavier than you expected. the soju was working slow, settling somewhere behind your ribs while the room started to buzz with loose laughter and louder music. people had peeled off. wonbin and his girlfriend curled back up, sohee half-asleep against kimmy’s boobs, the two random girls on the floor now trying to learn some tiktok dance.
you got up to grab a water, slipping into the kitchen just to breathe for a sec, hoodie sleeves pushed up and tank still sticking to your skin a little too tight. you leaned against the counter, sipping slow, watching condensation roll down the side of the bottle.
a: “your nails look good.”
you jumped. not dramatically, but enough. he was just there. leaning against the other side of the counter like he’d been waiting. like he’d followed.
you: “oh. thanks.”
you looked down at your hand on the bottle, at the simple glossy set you’d forgotten you even had done. square shaped. nude pink. kinda grown out.
you: “they’re old.”
a: “still pretty.”
you blinked. didn’t say anything. just let your eyes flick up to meet his. he wasn’t smirking, wasn’t teasing. just watching you with that same unreadable stare, like he was still trying to figure out what to do with you.
you: “you’ve been quiet all night.”
a: “so have you.”
he said it like it meant something. like he noticed.
you: 'i didn’t really think you’d be here.”
a: “same.”
he reached past you, slow, grabbing a water from the fridge. his chest brushed your arm, just for a second, but it was enough to send a spark straight down your spine.
a: “you don’t like drinking games?”
you: “not when i’m basically losing the whole time.”
a slow smile curved at the corner of his mouth.
a: “i don’t think you lost.”
you raised a brow.
you: “my cup didn’t go down once.”
a: “exactly.”
he stared, for a long time. way too long. the kind of stare that started to itch under your skin, not because it was creepy. but because it felt like he saw way more than you wanted him to. it went quiet. awkward quiet. not even background-music-to-drown-it-out quiet.
then jaehyun turned the music up just a little, grabbed sohee’s hand and dragged him your way, both of them half-tipsy and giggling as they walked up. jaehyun’s arm slung over your shoulder without hesitation.
j: “so what are you two talking about?”
s: “they’re awkwardly staring at each other, they never speak.”
j: “maybe they’re reading each other’s minds.”
sohee laughed. loud. like, scream-laughed. jaehyun started cracking up too, dramatic as hell. anton? didn’t even flinch. just blinked once. still staring at you.
s: “yeah right, she’d know exactly what he thinks ab-”
anton reached over and tapped sohee’s chest with the back of his hand. light, casual, but purposeful. like a silent shut the fuck up. jaehyun paused, brows pulling together in confusion for a second before it hit him. his eyes flicked to you, then to anton, then back to you.
you just stood there. clueless. bottle in hand. cheeks warm. wondering what the hell anton didn’t want him to say.
the night dragged on in that sleepy, drunken way. everyone loose and swaying, dancing like they were underwater, limbs sloppy with soju and laughter. after a while, things slowed down. the two extra girls dipped out with barely a goodbye, and wonbin started tossing blankets onto whatever furniture had space left, mumbling something about “crash wherever.” sohee ended up knocked out on top of kimmy, head pillowed right on her boobs like it was the most natural place in the world. jaehyun and his girlfriend were already out cold, tangled up on the couch like they hadn’t even meant to fall asleep.
you stayed behind to clean. mostly to avoid the awkwardness of not knowing where to sleep. the kitchen was dim, just the warm under-light of the cabinets glowing above the sink. you washed the last cup, fingers wrinkled and cold, then reached for a towel and dried your hands slowly. he was still there.
anton. silent. leaning in the corner like he’d been assigned to haunt you.
you didn’t look at him, but you could feel him. the way his gaze stuck like heat to your skin, no matter how hard you tried to act normal. his arms were crossed tight, hoodie up, jacket barely zipped to show the black tank underneath. the chain on his neck shimmered faintly under the kitchen light, resting against the sharp dip of his collarbone like it belonged there.
you turned around, leaning back against the sink, heart thumping stupid hard. his eyes were unreadable. still. waiting.
you: “uh, it’s late... i think i should go.”
he didn’t move. didn’t blink. didn’t say anything at first. and you weren’t sure if you wanted him to stop you or let you leave. your throat was dry. the silence between you two crackled like static.
a: “or you can stay.”
his voice was soft. quieter than before. low and warm like he didn’t want to wake the rest of the house, like the words were meant just for you. you blinked, lips parting slightly. hesitated. he hadn’t moved from the corner, but his eyes were steady on you, unreadable, mouth tugged into something that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t neutral either.
you: “yeah, uh… i mean, i could just crash next to kimmy or something.”
you said it like a question. like you were giving him a chance to correct you. and he did. just with a slow step forward.
a: “or…”
your heart stuttered. the way he said it. like there was only one real option. like you already knew what he meant. he stopped a couple feet in front of you now, close enough to smell the faint laundry scent of his hoodie, the lingering soju on his breath, the clean musk of his cologne still clinging to the chain on his neck.
a: “you don’t wanna sleep next to sohee snoring all night, do you?”
you let out a breathy laugh before you could stop it, glancing down. your palms were suddenly sweaty against the dish towel still in your hand. when you looked up, his gaze was already dropped. locked on your neckline, on the way your tank dipped low across your chest. he didn’t look away when you caught him. not even a flinch.
you: “so what… your room, then?”
his brow lifted a little. almost surprised you said it out loud.
a: “only if you want to.”
his voice was even softer this time. careful. like he didn’t want to scare you off. like he knew exactly how inexperienced you were after that game. and that’s what made your stomach twist. because the offer wasn’t cocky. it wasn’t performative. it felt like he was being gentle on purpose.
you: “just sleep?”
he took one more step, now close enough that his fingers could brush your wrist if he reached.
a: “whatever you want.”
you didn’t remember agreeing aloud. just remember setting the towel down, heart in your throat, and following him out of the kitchen.
his room was clean. like, surprisingly clean for a boy. soft lamplight glowing from the nightstand, bed already made. gray sheets, dark comforter, one too many pillows. the window was cracked just slightly, letting in the faint hum of the night and the cooler air that instantly brushed your skin.
you stepped in first. he followed. closed the door behind you with a soft click that made your whole body flinch. you didn’t know what to do at first. just stood awkwardly near the edge of the bed, hands shoved into the pockets of your hoodie, swaying slightly on your heels like you were waiting to be given instructions. anton didn’t say anything. just pulled the hoodie off over his head and tossed it onto the desk chair in one clean motion.
his tank clung to his torso like second skin, chain catching the light as he moved. he didn’t seem in a rush. didn’t seem nervous. just calm. unreadable. that same quiet confidence you’d been trying not to obsess over all night.
a: “you cold?”
you shook your head quickly, maybe a little too quick.
you: “no. i’m good.”
his lips twitched. not quite a smile, but enough to make your chest tighten. he sat at the edge of the bed, legs spread, arms resting on his thighs, watching you like he was giving you space to figure it out.
a: “you can sit, y’know.”
you: “right. yeah.”
you climbed onto the bed slowly, slipping off your hoodie to leave just the tank and sweats, trying not to notice how his eyes subtly dropped to your chest again before flicking away just as fast. you sat cross-legged at the edge, a full two feet between you both.
silence settled in again, thick and quiet and warm. his room smelled like him. something clean, faintly woody, like soap and skin and that cologne you were already starting to memorize.
he leaned back on his palms, looking at the ceiling.
a: “you really haven’t done any of that shit they asked about?”
you froze. not offended, just surprised. your head tilted slightly as you looked at him, unsure if he was teasing.
you: “no… i wasn’t lying.”
his gaze met yours again. softer now. like something shifted behind his eyes.
a: “good.”
you blinked.
you: “good?”
a: “yeah. means no one’s ruined you yet.”
you stared at him. breath caught. and he didn’t explain himself. just leaned back further onto his elbows and let the silence stretch again. comfortable this time. he didn’t reach for you. didn’t touch you. but the tension was there, thick enough to taste. you laid back slowly beside him. close, but not touching.
and neither of you said anything for a long, long time.
the ceiling became the safest place to look. your head rested on his pillow, hair spread out around you, heart thudding too loud for how quiet the room was. anton hadn’t moved since you laid beside him. just stayed still on his elbows, head tilted your way, like he was watching you without actually turning to look.
your arms weren’t touching, but they were close. enough that when you shifted, just a little. your elbow grazed his. a brush of skin, warm and electric. your breath hitched.
he noticed.
his eyes flicked down to where your arms met, then slowly up to your face. and for a second, neither of you looked away. you were the first to blink.
you: “you always stare this much?”
his lip quirked at the corner. just barely.
a: “only when it’s hard to look away.”
you didn’t know what to do with that. so you just smiled a little. tight, nervous and rolled onto your side to face him more directly. your knees curled slightly, one hand tucked under your cheek.
he mirrored you. slow. careful. like he was testing gravity. his hand lifted, hovered halfway like he wanted to tuck your hair behind your ear but thought better of it. it dropped softly onto the space between you instead, fingers brushing the blanket.
your heart beat like it was trying to climb out of your chest.
you: “you’re… really close.”
a: “do you want me to back up?”
your lips parted. you meant to speak. something, anything. but it didn’t come out. instead, you shook your head slowly. barely. and that was it.
he leaned in. no warning, no dramatic pause. just a slow, clean shift forward until his mouth ghosted over yours. his breath warm. still not touching.
you tilted forward that last inch and that’s when he kissed you. soft. deliberate. like he was tasting the moment, not just your lips. his hand lifted again, fingers finally slipping into your hair this time, cradling the back of your head so gently it made your whole body ache.
he didn’t rush. didn’t push. just kissed you again, deeper. letting it linger. letting it bloom. his thumb brushed your cheek, and your fingers curled into his tank like instinct. you barely pulled apart, noses brushing, breaths shallow.
a: “wanna leave?”
you: “n-no.”
your voice was barely a whisper. he kissed you again.
you weren’t even sure how long the kiss lasted. just that it left your lips tingling, head light, heart pounding loud enough you swore he could hear it. you were still curled toward him, fingers resting soft on his waist, like any sudden move might shatter whatever was blooming between you.
he kept close. lips parted against yours, breath warm, noses bumping softly as he hovered, waiting. checking.
a: “okay?”
his voice was barely a murmur. the kind of softness you didn’t expect from someone who looked like him. it made your chest squeeze.
you: “yeah. yeah, i’m okay.”
he smiled at that. tiny. quiet. then leaned in again. this time, the kiss was deeper.
slower.
like he wanted to savor it. like he meant it. his hand slid further into your hair, cradling the back of your neck, keeping you steady while his lips moved against yours with more pressure. more certainty, it wasn’t rushed. there was no bite, no hunger. just the quiet, growing intensity of something that had been held back too long.
your hands moved without thinking. one sliding up the front of his tank, fingertips brushing the neckline, the other curling around the crook of his arm. he felt solid. warm. real. and when he shifted closer, you let him, your knee brushing his thigh, the space between you finally disappearing. he kissed you like he wanted to learn the shape of your mouth.
like he’d been waiting for a reason.
his tongue brushed yours gently, testing, and the small sound you made in your throat. half gasp, half surprise. made him pull you even closer. not with force. with need.
your breathing got shaky. his lips trailed the corner of your mouth before returning to center again, deeper now, more open, more yes, more. you tilted your head, fingers sliding up to cup his jaw, and that’s when he exhaled against your skin, low and sweet and aching.
your bodies weren’t tangled, but they were close. everything touched. legs, hips, chests. nothing rushed. nothing messy. just slow, heavy kissing in a room where no one could see. no expectations. just you and him.
and the quiet feeling that maybe, just maybe, he’d wanted this for a while.
his hands moved first. not greedy, not rushed, but more sure now. like the kiss had unlocked something in him. his fingers slid down from your hair to your jaw, thumb grazing your cheek like he couldn’t believe you were really there. he kissed you again, deeper this time, tongue parting your lips like he was testing how far you’d let him go.
you let him.
god, you let him. lips opening with a quiet sigh, the kind that slipped into his mouth and made his hand twitch against your skin.
your body shifted toward him instinctively, one leg brushing up over his, hooking at his thigh just barely. not fully on top of him, but close. too close to call it innocent. the fabric of your sweats brushed his tank, thin layers between the heat already building between you.
his breath hitched.
he pulled back just slightly, forehead leaning against yours, lips swollen, voice raw.
a: “you sure?”
your chest rose with a shaky breath. the air between you was charged. too hot, too heavy, too real. and yet you nodded.
you: “y-yeah..”
he kissed you again. slower, firmer, like your answer did something to him. his hands dropped to your waist, warm and steady, gripping the hem of your tank. not tugging. just resting there. waiting. you shifted forward in answer, hips brushing his, and he groaned. soft, muffled, into your mouth.
his hand slipped under your shirt.
fingers warm, moving up your sides so slow it made your whole body clench. his touch wasn’t rough, wasn’t even sexual yet. just exploring. learning the shape of your ribs, the softness of your skin, the way you shivered when his thumb grazed the underside of your bra.
he kissed down now. along your jaw, your neck, the spot under your ear that made your breath catch and fingers grip his hoodie tighter. his lips were soft, open, leaving slow, burning kisses down the side of your throat as your head tipped back to give him more. you whispered his name. barely.
and he shivered.
a: “fuck…”
your tank was pushed up now, fabric bunching just under your chest, and his hands were trembling slightly against your waist like he was trying to keep himself from doing too much, too fast. but your body was already pressing into his, needing more. hips shifting, legs tangling, lips searching for his again like you couldn’t bear even a second apart.
he let you climb into his lap slowly, hands steady on your thighs, lips back on yours in seconds. the kiss turned hotter, deeper, breath catching, tongues brushing, fingers gripping tighter.
the chain around his neck was cold where it brushed your skin, a sharp contrast to how warm the rest of him felt. solid under you, eyes fluttering closed, hands sliding further down your back until they were splayed just above your ass.
and still, he didn’t rush.
he just held you there. kissed you like he was scared to stop. kissed you like this was a secret you both needed to keep.
his fingers traced your back beneath the tank, slow lines up your spine that made you shiver, then dipped down again to rest just above the waistband of your sweats. not pushing. just holding.
your thighs were folded around him, knees on either side of his hips, bodies flushed close but not grinding yet. not quite. it was enough to feel the heat of him though. enough to feel the subtle shift in his breathing when your chest pressed into his, when your hands slid under the edge of his tank to touch bare skin for the first time.
he was warm. solid. flexing slightly under your fingertips like he wasn’t used to being touched that soft.
you: “can i…?”
your voice cracked halfway through, but you didn’t need to finish.
he nodded once. slow. lips parted. gaze locked on yours.
you lifted his tank, pushed it up gently, and he helped, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside without breaking eye contact. the chain slid back against his collarbone, now glinting directly against skin. your palms flattened over his chest, tracing the lean muscle, the dip between his pecs, the warm stretch of his torso down to his ribs.
he looked wrecked. already.
eyes half-lidded, jaw tight, breath shaky as your hands moved over him like you were trying to understand every inch.
his hands returned the favor. fingers slipping beneath your tank again, this time with more purpose. they slid up your stomach, slow and steady, until his thumbs grazed the swell of your breasts. he paused. looked at you.
a: “okay?”
you nodded, breath caught in your throat, and he moved. lifted the tank gently over your head, leaving you in nothing but the soft lace of your bra. his hands stilled again at your sides, eyes sweeping over you like he didn’t know where to look first.
a: “fuck, you’re…”
he didn’t finish. just leaned in and kissed you again. deeper this time, his tongue stroking yours slow and dirty, hands finally sliding up to cup your chest over the lace. his thumbs brushed your nipples through the fabric and you gasped softly, body arching into him like instinct.
you could feel him now. properly. hard beneath you, shifting slightly like he was trying to stay patient but your soft little noises were testing every ounce of control.
his lips broke from yours to kiss down your neck again, tongue dragging along your pulse, teeth just barely grazing your skin.
a: “you’re driving me insane.”
his hands moved behind you, unclipping your bra with one smooth flick. so careful, so soft. and you let the straps slip down your arms.
bare now, skin to skin, you felt everything. the way his hands cupped you, full and warm, the way his mouth dropped to your chest and pressed slow, open kisses between them, then lower. his breath was shaky against your skin. reverent. like he wanted to worship you but was still afraid to go too far too fast.
your hands threaded into his hair, tugging gently, and his lips finally closed over your nipple. tongue flicking slow. sucking just enough to make your thighs clench tight around him.
you gasped. hips grinding once against him by accident, your first real slip. his head tilted up, lips still parted, eyes dark and steady.
a: “baby…”
a whisper. half warning. half praise. he sat up a little, one arm firm around your waist now, holding you close, the other trailing down your back and over your hip.
a: “tell me if you want me to stop.”
you shook your head instantly. breathless. dizzy. his fingers dipped beneath your waistband, slow and careful. your breath hitched as his palm settled low over your hips, just enough pressure to let you feel it. his touch dragging the band of your sweats down a few inches, knuckles grazing the edge of your panties.
he paused. eyes flicking up. watching your face like it held the final green light.
a: “still good?”
you nodded, eyes wide, lips parted.
you: “y-yes. please.”
his mouth twitched. like he was trying to smile but couldn’t, not with how tense his jaw was. not with how hard he was under you, still untouched.
he pulled your sweats down slow, sliding them past your hips until they bunched around your thighs. you shifted to help, and he made this sound. low, shaky, guttural in the back of his throat when he saw the wet spot already blooming through your panties.
his fingers hovered there. barely touching.
a: “fuck.”
he dragged the pad of one finger up the center seam, slow enough to make your eyes flutter, your thighs twitch.
a: “you’re soaked.”
his voice was wrecked now. rough and low and full of disbelief. like this was doing something to him. he leaned in again, kissing you hard. no hesitation this time. his hand slipped beneath your panties, finally touching you skin to skin, middle finger sliding between your folds like he’d been dreaming of it.
you gasped into his mouth. body jerking.
a: “relax.”
he whispered it into your mouth, kissing you again, slower now as he rubbed soft circles over your clit. not fast. not rough. just enough to make your hips rock into his hand. he pulled back to look at you, chest heaving, eyes dark and locked on your lips.
a: “you look so good.”
his forehead dropped to yours, breath mixing with yours as he slid a finger inside you. slow, deep, curling just slightly. your whole body arched. you moaned, breathless.
you: “oh my god…”
he shushed you gently, kissing your cheek, your neck, his voice shaking now too.
a: “i got you, baby. just let me make you feel good.”
his other hand gripped your thigh, pulling it higher around his waist. the friction between you got thicker. his hard cock pressing against your soaked panties as his fingers moved inside you, pumping slow, thumb circling your clit in rhythm.
you rocked against him without even thinking. whimpering into his shoulder, mouth open, hands in his hair, on his back, everywhere. trying to hold on.
he kissed your chest again. your nipple. sucked slow, moaned against it.
your hips started chasing him. rolling into every stroke of his fingers, needy now, panting, mouth spilling quiet, desperate sounds into the space between you.
you: “anton- please- fuck-”
his forehead dropped to your shoulder, teeth pressing soft against your skin.
a: “you’re close, huh?”
you couldn’t even speak. just nodded, thighs trembling, one hand clutching the back of his neck like you’d fall apart without it. he fucked you slow with his fingers, lips on your chest, his voice in your ear.
a: “don’t hold it in, baby. let go. let me feel you.”
you came with a cry, whole body curling into him, hips twitching, thighs squeezing tight around his waist. his fingers didn’t stop until you were gasping, until the aftershocks made your body shake in his arms.
he kissed you again. softer now. tongue brushing yours like he wasn’t done yet.
a: “you good?”
you: “mhm.”
barely a whisper. he smirked, finally.
a: “then lie back.”
you didn’t even realize he’d tugged his sweats down until you felt it. warm skin, thick length pressed between your thighs, just barely brushing where you were still dripping from his fingers.
your eyes flicked down, catching a glimpse of it. flushed, heavy, so hard. your stomach flipped.
you: “oh-…”
a: “yeah?”
he was watching your face like it would break him. like if you flinched, he’d stop. even now, when his tip was slipping through your folds. gathering your slick, teasing your entrance. he held himself back. breathing hard. arms caged around your waist like you’d disappear.
a: “we can stop if you want.”
you: “no.”
your voice was soft, but certain.
you: “i want you. anton.”
that did it.
his head dipped, mouth finding yours again. hungrier this time. his tongue tangled with yours, groaning low as he started to push in. your hands gripped his shoulders, nails dragging into his skin, thighs trembling around his waist.
the stretch made your mouth fall open. not painful, just full. every inch dragged a sound from your throat you couldn’t hold in.
a: “fuck, you’re tight- shit-”
he buried himself slow. all the way. hips flush against yours, forehead pressed to yours like he was using you to breathe. you gasped, walls fluttering around him, so overwhelmed you didn’t even know where to touch, his shoulders? his face?
he didn’t move right away. just held you. cock throbbing inside as he kissed the corner of your mouth, whispering.
a: “you feel… insane. you’re okay?”
you nodded. he was so careful at first, just rolling his hips in shallow strokes, letting you feel him. letting your body adjust. every pull made your back arch, every push made your mouth drop open in a whimper.
he slid a hand under your thigh, lifting it higher to change the angle. the next thrust hit deeper. your moan came out broken.
a: “that’s it. just like that, baby.”
he moved a little faster. lips on your neck. chest to chest, skin sticking with sweat as the heat built. it wasn’t rushed. it wasn’t loud. just the sound of your breathing, the wet drag of his cock inside you, and his soft, wrecked voice every time you clenched around him.
a: “you feel so fucking good.”
every thrust hit just right, making your whole body shake. the friction, the stretch, the way his chain swung and hit your chest each time his hips met yours.
you: “anton- i’m gon-”
a: “cum. cum for me, baby.”
you shattered around him, pulsing tight, crying out into his shoulder. he groaned deep, hips stuttering, losing rhythm as you clenched again. and he spilled into you with a low curse, fucking it in slow, riding out every last twitch.
he stayed inside you for a long second. catching his breath. face buried in your neck.
a: “fuck.”
his voice was hoarse. spent.
a: “you okay?”
you: “y-yes.”
barely audible.
he kissed your shoulder. your cheek. your lips. over and over. like he wasn’t done. like he couldn’t be done. and honestly… neither were you.
he hadn’t said much right after. just pulled you into his chest, slow and careful like you’d break if he touched too hard. kissed your forehead. wiped the sweat from your hairline. held you like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. now? it was quiet.
but not awkward.
just… heavy. his thumb brushed over your skin. your tank top long gone, and you were only half-covered by the blanket. anton hadn’t even bothered to put his sweats back on. just laid there in his briefs, hair sticking to his forehead.
he tilted his head to look at you, that same unreadable expression he always had, but softer this time. eyes warmer. like he’d felt something shift too.
a: “that… wasn’t just sex.”
your breath hitched.
you: "it wasn’t.”
he looked relieved when you said it. like he didn’t have to keep pretending he didn’t care. his fingers trailed down your side, lazy. tracing the curve of your waist, the soft dip of your stomach.
a: “you were perfect.”
you blushed. turned your face into his neck. he laughed. real and quiet and a little raspy. then he tugged you closer, thigh between your legs again. the night felt like a dream that had only begun.
ෆ ･ 𝓢YNOPSIS: anton is across the world, needy, desperate, missing you. and you are just as bad. what starts as a picture turns into much more... ෆ ･ 𝓦/𝓒: 1281
ෆ ･𝓜.LIST! & 𝓣AGLIST!
“and he dont even scroll through insta, unless he going through my pictures.”
you and anton have been together for a while. so much so that because of this random ass distance that got placed between you two, you call to send your hugs and kisses. only for a couple of months. he was on tour, most of the time you cant even call because of the timezones and man it sucks. but somehow, some way you two figure it out. he hates not talking to you, you’re his calm in the storm really. you’ve never been the type to send videos or pics of yourselves but recently you and him both have been extremely needy. its like your sex drive skyrockets when the two of you are apart. the not wanting to send pics or videos didn’t last long though. you’ve been desperate and anton has been STRESSED. i mean it gets so bad, he’ll call just to have you talk so he could sleep. that wasn’t enough anymore. the texts started to get desperate, hungry.
a: i need you. bad.
that was the text you got at 1 in the morning. it was late for him you assumed since he was sending texts like this. it didn’t cross your mind what he meant by it though. you stared at the screen for a second, half asleep, before responding back.
you: what do you need babe?
the bubbles appeared, then disappeared. anton was never the most confident saying things like this because he always lived with the worry of making you uncomfortable. little does he know, you’d do anything for him. extra when you’re feeling generous. the three dots appearing again. then a picture. nothing sexual, just him. in bed. the room was dark. his chin rested on his arm, you could tell he was shirtless. his hair fell over his eye, barely showing the other, he had his lips puckered in a pout. it was something about the picture. you couldn’t tell if he was asking for something or if he just wanted you to see him but, damn he was sexy. you responded back with a picture too, you were in his hoodie, chewing on the plastic part of the drawstring. hair messy, eyes tired. he took no time to respond.
a: you look pretty, baby.
you laughed before responding.
you: whatever.😒 u’re just saying that bc you miss me.
a: i do, you’re saying that like you don’t miss me.
you: u know i do.
a: i like seeing you in my clothes, thats all. maybe, you could show me whats underneath.
you froze. he knew you slept with nothing on, just panties and a bra. you hesitated for the slightest bit before responding, you weren’t scared. you just didn’t expect it.
you: you just wanna see me in my underwear
a: i’ve seen you with and without it on. 😔
you: so you want me to send a picture… 🤨
a: only if you're comfortable, babe.
you didn’t even feel nervous, you just pulled the blanket off. snapping a few pics of you in the mirror next to the bed with the hoodie on first. being a tease, flashing just enough to leave him speechless, and sent them to him. the dots appeared, disappearing quickly. appearing again, then disappearing again. you knew he was struggling, dying on the other side of the screen. then, you pulled off the hoodie. snapping pics of yourself sitting pretty in his favorite color. one specifically with your back arched on the bed. front view of course, head facing the mirror. you couldn’t give him all in one go right. just enough to make him want you more. you sent those with invisible ink. he read it but it sure did take him a while to respond.
a: fuck baby, i cant do this... you look so good.
you: i know. 😉
you couldn’t even slip on the hoodie before he called. he didn’t even know how to speak the second he seen your still half naked body.
a: “i— you— i need to come home. i need to feel you, be in your skin.”
you just smiled pulling the hoodie back over your head. you could see the slight sadness in his eyes. he didn’t say anything about it though. he just sounded so wrecked. so desperate. so needy. you two talked the whole night. after that the pictures became more of a routine. not just from you, but from him as well. fresh out the shower, after practice, half nudes. it wasn't until you sent him a video of you dancing half naked in the mirror, nipples hard, poking through your lace bra, when he snapped. it was a while after that when he called, late breathless, only wanting to ‘hear the sound of your voice’ while he stayed silent. it wasn’t until you heard him whisper your name when you notice he was jerking off to you. you never thought he would be the type to do something of the sort but he was and you fucking loved it. you would call him just to hear him moan quietly into his blanket.
you had been touching yourself to him too, just off camera. it was one night when you slipped up. you were looking at some of the pics of him in the messages, pleasing yourself to the thought of him. you were loud, eyes rolling back, just hitting your climax when you started voice recording. how? you had no fucking clue, but you were too into it to notice you sent a 10 second voice note to him moaning his name. and too your luck anton was never slow at responding. he seen it the second you sent it. you hadn’t even came yet before he responded. that response letting you know exactly what you just did. you froze, hands shaking.
a: damn you sound sexy, princess..
you didn't even respond, you could unsend it but what would that do for you? exactly, nothing. you just sat there, staring at the screen. then minutes after shock, he called, you answered quick. phone still sitting where you dropped it.
you: “im sorry, i did-”
a: “dont apologize, i loved it.”
he already sounded wrecked. voice low, rough. you just blinked. you didn’t know what to do in the moment. but the fucking sounds coming from the other side of the phone made it hard for you not to wanna continue. and that feeling in your stomach settled, your hands stopped shaking, you picked up the phone. hands moving slowly at the sound of his whispers and moans. you couldn’t hold back. your fingers moved faster, rubbing at your heat. your head falling back, he could see you. almost all of you, but you know what was the best part? him hearing you, your hand moved faster, rubbing harder. mouth open, his name slipping from your thoat.
you: “f— ah— anton...”
a: “shit, please don't stop, pretty girl. cum for me baby.”
both your and his hand moving violently at the sound and sight of each other. moans and whimpers released from the back of your throats while you fucked yourselves on opposite sides of the screen. your back arched, his eyes rolled back. until, the both of you came for each other. hard, loud, bodies trembling. once you two finally came down from the high, you just laughed. neither of you thought it would get to that point, but you didn’t regret it. for the rest of the night you two just whispered sweet nothings and a bunch of ‘i love yous’ into each other's ear until the night ended.
Genre: college au, strangers to lovers
Pairing: Anton Lee|Chanyoung x afab!Reader
Notes: This is a preview. The final fic is 20k words. To be posted on 10/24, Friday.
As the miles rolled by, the countryside unfolded around you, with fields of wildflowers swaying in the breeze. At some point, you had to stop at a gasoline station because Sohee needed to use the restroom.
“How about you?” Anton asked, just as Sohee had left the car.
You shook your head. “I’m good,” you replied, glancing at him. He was scrolling through his phone and only hummed at your response.
You watched him for a moment—handsome, as always, with that charisma that seemed to come so naturally to him. You didn’t mean to stare, but your gaze lingered on his mouth longer than it should have. There was that faint, almost-smile he always had—like he was always on the verge of actually letting it show. It made you wonder what it’d take to coax a real one out of him.
But more importantly, you wondered if his lips were as soft as they appear to be.
“You know,” you said, voice light but teasing, “you have really pretty lips.”
Anton paused, glancing at you and blinking like he wasn’t sure he heard you right. His eyes flicked to your mouth, then back to his phone, brushing you off as usual. “Thanks.”
“Can you tie a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue?” you asked, leaning a little closer with an innocent smile on your lips.
You knew exactly what you were doing—the teasing tone, the loaded question. It was playful, sultry, but in a way that you could brush off if he didn’t bite. You fully expected his usual indifferent response.
Then again, there was the possibility that maybe he’d pick up your hints this time, and maybe he’d do something about the tension that was building up between you right at this moment. Maybe—
“I don’t think anyone can,” he answered flatly, brows furrowed like he genuinely and seriously thought about the question.
You threw your hands up dramatically. “Oh my god. What was I expecting?” you scoffed, shaking your head and looking away.
Anton remained quiet, so you glanced back at him. His jaw was clenched tightly, and somehow it felt as though you’d said something you shouldn’t have.
You swallowed, unsure whether to laugh it off or hold your breath. “What?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned toward you. Before you could process what was happening, his hand was already cupping the back of your head, and then his lips were on yours.
You were momentarily stunned, grappling with the sensation of his lips pressing against yours and the racing thoughts in your head. His fingers tightened slightly, tilting your head at just the right angle to kiss you deeper. It was firm, yet slow, like he’d been thinking about it for much longer than you’d realized. You closed your eyes as you melted into him, kissing him back and feeling the warmth spread through your chest. Your heart raced in its cage—so wildly that you swore Anton could feel it echoing in his own.
When he pulled back, he was wearing a rare smirk on his lips and a triumphant glint in his eyes.
“So?” He asked, voice low like he meant for only you to hear it. “Can I?”
It took you a second to catch up. “Huh?”
Anton’s lips curved into a full smirk this time. “Can I tie a cherry stem into a knot with my tongue?”
You blinked at him, speechless—then let out a helpless laugh. “Y-yeah,” you stammered, flustered and still catching your breath. “Absolutely. You’re amazing. Basically a pro. Heh.”
You were still reeling—trying and failing to act normal—when Sohee climbed back into the car, completely oblivious to what had just happened. He noticed something, though, because his eyes darted between you and Anton suspiciously.
“What?” you asked, forcing a casual tone that probably wasn’t fooling anyone.
He shrugged slowly. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
“Again with your nonsense,” Anton replied, casually driving away after dismissing Sohee’s suspicion like it was nothing.
Sohee didn’t press, and it was only you who could see the smirk on Anton’s lips, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. It was infuriating, but also oddly disarming. You could still feel the press of his lips on yours, and it took everything in you to not touch your mouth, just to check if it had really happened.
✮ pairing : riize's anton lee/lee chanyoung x female!reader (woo nayeon)
✮ word count: 7.6k
✮ tags: nsfw, sexual themes, college/university setting
✮ warnings: alcohol consumption, explicit words, explicit sexual content
✮ synopsis: a game of “seven minutes in heaven” should be just a dare—but for anton, it becomes so much more. locked in a small, dim room, playful teasing turns to heated touches, whispered confessions, and a tension neither of them can resist. seven minutes feel like forever, and by the end, nothing will be the same.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Anton Lee had a way of filling a hallway without trying.
Broad shoulders, easy stride, head slightly bowed like he wanted less attention when his body demanded more of it. He never said much, his voice quiet whenever someone tried to drag him into conversation. But his silence was never awkward. It was steady. Watchful.
Nayeon noticed him before she realized she was noticing.
The first time was at the campus gym pool— her friends had dragged her to cheer for the swim team. She didn’t care for sports, not really, but she carried her camera anyway, out of habit. It gave her hands something to do. Through the lens she caught flashes of him: slicing through water, chest and arms flexing as he pulled himself out of the pool, wet hair dripping into dark eyes.
Too handsome. Too untouchable.
She pretended not to look. She told herself she wasn’t interested. She had no business being interested.
But then came the small crossings.
Passing him in the library stairwell. Seeing him sit outside the lecture hall she was leaving. Once, standing in line at the café and catching him glance at her camera strap dangling at her wrist. Their eyes brushed for half a second before she looked away so fast she nearly bumped into the person ahead of her.
She was always the one to turn away first. Always.
What she didn’t know was that Anton remembered her.
Not in the obvious way— no, he didn’t stare, didn’t smile like the other guys on the team who threw winks at any girl in sight.
He only… took note. Observed.
The quiet girl from the photography club, always dragged into places by her friends. Always polite, always nodding along, but her eyes told a different story.
Reserved. Careful.
And maybe, just maybe, she lingered on him a little longer than she meant to.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
The party wasn’t Nayeon’s idea. It never was.
Her friends thrived in crowded houses where music pulsed through the floorboards, where drinks sloshed in red cups and laughter spilled too loud. She, on the other hand, clung to the edges, cup half-full, smiling when she had to.
She spotted Anton almost instantly.
He leaned against the far wall, beer in hand, looking completely out of place yet somehow magnetic in the chaos. He wasn’t talking much, just listening to his teammates banter, nodding occasionally.
But she caught it again— that moment when his gaze swept across the room and landed on her.
Brief. Steady.
Enough to make her heart stumble.
And then someone shouted.
“Truth or Dare!”
Of course.
Nayeon was pulled into the circle before she could protest, knees pressed awkwardly against the carpet, her friends giggling beside her. Anton, to her horror and thrill, was dragged in too.
The dares started harmless.
Chug your drink. Text your ex. Dance on the table.
The crowd loved it, the room echoing with cheers.
Then it was Anton’s turn.
“Truth or dare, Anton?” one of his teammates grinned, clearly eager to put him on the spot.
Anton’s lips curved faintly. “Truth.”
Booing followed, but the question came quick.
“How many girls on campus have you kissed?”
Nayeon nearly choked on her drink.
Anton didn’t flinch. “None.”
The circle erupted. “Bullshit!” “Liar!”
He only shrugged, calm as ever. “Why would I lie?”
Nayeon’s cheeks burned. She kept her eyes on the floor, but something in her chest throbbed at the thought. None.
The game rolled on. More dares, more laughter. Until someone’s grin turned sharp and the words landed like a bomb.
“Nayeon. Truth or dare?”
Her throat tightened. “...Dare.”
“Easy. Kiss Anton.”
The room exploded into cheers, stomping feet, whistles. Nayeon froze, wide-eyed, heat climbing her face. She looked at him without meaning to. Anton sat across from her, relaxed, gaze steady. Waiting.
Her friends nudged her. “Go on!”
Her pulse roared in her ears. People-pleaser that she was, she leaned forward, intending to make it quick, just a brush to silence the crowd. Her lips grazed his, feather-light—
And then his hand caught her wrist.
Her breath snagged as Anton tugged her back, not rough but sure. His mouth pressed to hers again, slower this time, deliberate.
A real kiss, deep enough for silence to fall before the circle erupted louder than ever.
When he pulled back, Nayeon’s face was on fire. Anton’s expression hadn’t changed much— calm, unreadable, but his eyes on her were heavy.
The game rolled on, but she barely heard it. Her lips still tingled.
And then the bottle spun.
It clattered to a stop, the neck pointing straight between them.
The crowd howled. “Seven minutes in heaven!”
Before she could protest, hands pushed them both toward the nearest closet.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
The closet door slammed, and the lock clicked shut.
Darkness pressed in, hot and heavy, with only the muffled bass of the party seeping through the walls.
Nayeon leaned back against the wall, trying to sound casual even as her pulse pounded in her throat.
“This is stupid. We can just… wait it out.”
Anton’s voice was low, steady, far too close in the dark. “You don’t actually want to wait.”
Her chest tightened. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because you kissed me back.”
She opened her mouth, but before she could answer, Anton closed the distance.
His lips crashed against hers, firm and hungry, swallowing whatever excuse she might have had. He kissed her like he’d been holding back for years, tongue slipping between her lips, hand cupping her jaw to tilt her head just right.
Her body reacted before her brain caught up, knees weak, fingers clawing at his shirt. He pressed her against the wall, his solid chest pinning her in place. She gasped into his mouth when his thigh nudged between hers, the hard muscle rubbing against the ache building between her legs.
“Anton—” she breathed, but it came out more like a moan.
He groaned at the sound, kissing down her jaw, biting lightly at her throat until she whimpered.
“Fuck, you sound good.” His hands skimmed down her body, over the swell of her breasts, squeezing until her back arched into him.
Then lower.
His fingers slid up her skirt, brushing against the heat of her panties. He felt the dampness immediately and chuckled, low and rough.
“Already soaked,” he murmured against her ear. “You’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you?”
She shook her head instinctively, but the whimper that escaped her lips betrayed her. “I—I don’t—”
“Don’t lie to me, Nayeon.” His fingers pushed her panties aside, stroking her folds with slow, deliberate pressure. She gasped, clutching at his shoulders. “Say it.”
Her chest heaved, shame and need twisting together.
“Yes,” she whispered. “For you.”
That was all he needed. He shoved two fingers inside her, filling her tight heat in one smooth thrust. Her cry echoed in the small space, hips bucking against his hand.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled, pumping his fingers deep, curling them until she trembled. “Clenching around me already. You gonna cum just from this?”
Her head dropped back against the wall, thighs shaking, the wet slap of his fingers working her filling the air. Her moans tumbled out helplessly, each one swallowed by his mouth as he kissed her again, rough and messy.
“Anton—oh god, don’t stop—”
“That’s it, good girl.” His thumb found her clit, circling fast, relentless. Her whole body jerked, pleasure tearing through her as she came hard around his fingers, crying out his name.
He didn’t give her a chance to breathe.
The sound of his zipper filled the dark, and then he grabbed her hand, guiding it down to wrap around his cock.
Thick. Heavy.
Her breath hitched as her fingers curled around him, stroking clumsily.
“Stroke me,” he ordered, his forehead pressed against hers, eyes burning even in the shadows.
“Or I’ll fuck you against this wall so hard they’ll all hear.”
Her thighs squeezed together, her pussy still pulsing from her orgasm. She pumped him faster, feeling the hot slickness at his tip. He groaned, low and guttural, gripping her hips like he was holding back with effort.
Then he snapped.
In one motion, he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist. His cock pressed against her entrance, sliding through the wetness before pushing inside. Her scream tore out, muffled by his mouth as he swallowed it with a kiss.
“Fuck—” Anton hissed, slamming into her until he was buried to the hilt. “You’re so tight—taking me so fucking well—”
Nayeon clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, the stretch burning and perfect. Every thrust drove her higher up the wall, his hips snapping into her with raw, desperate force.
The closet filled with filthy sounds, the slap of skin against skin, the wet squelch of her pussy gripping him, their gasps and moans tangled together.
“Anton— f-fuck— so deep—” she sobbed, her head rolling back against the wall.
He growled against her neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. “You feel that? That’s me inside you. All of me.”
His pace was brutal, fucking her into the wall, every thrust hitting that spot that made her scream. Her moans grew louder, shameless, until she was shaking in his arms.
“I’m—oh god—I’m gonna—”
“Cum for me,” he demanded, driving into her harder. “Cum on my cock, Nayeon. Let me feel you.”
Her whole body seized, walls clenching around him as she shattered with a scream, wetness gushing down her thighs. He groaned, fucking her through it, his thrusts growing ragged.
“Shit— I'm gonna cum—” he snarled, hips pounding into her until he finally buried himself deep, spilling hot inside her with a guttural moan. His whole body trembled against hers, forehead pressed to hers, both of them gasping for air.
They stayed like that, tangled and ruined, sweat dripping, cum leaking down her thighs. The music outside roared on, muffled but distant.
And the door never opened.
Their friends knew.
They knew the seven minutes had long passed, but no one interrupted. They left them in their own dark heaven, moaning and shaking until neither could move.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
The party felt like a blur the next morning. At least, that’s what Nayeon told herself.
She told herself that as she sat through lectures, eyes fixed on her notes. She told herself that as her friends whispered and giggled about the “legendary” closet session, their eyes flicking knowingly in her direction.
And she told herself that every time she caught sight of Anton.
Because he was everywhere now.
In the cafeteria line. On the quad, sitting with his teammates. Passing her in the library, his dark eyes locking on her for just a second too long before she ducked her head and pretended to be busy.
She hadn’t forgotten.
How could she? Her body still remembered the ache of him, the bruises his mouth had left, the way his voice had growled her name like it belonged to him.
But she had to forget. Or at least pretend. Because facing it meant… what, exactly? That she’d fucked Anton Lee in a closet while half the party laughed outside? That she’d begged him to make her cum, and he had?
No. Better to smile politely, to keep her head down, to let it fade into the fog of alcohol and dares.
For a while, Anton let her.
He didn’t push. He didn’t speak up in public. He only watched, his expression calm, unreadable, the way it always was.
But beneath it, frustration simmered.
He remembered everything— the way she’d moaned against his mouth, how tightly she’d clung to him, the way her body had come undone for him. And now she walked past him like he was just another face on campus.
Like nothing happened.
By the end of the week, he’d had enough.
The photography lab was nearly empty when Nayeon slipped inside, camera bag slung over her shoulder. She liked it that way— the quiet hum of the enlarger, the faint chemical tang of developer trays.
Safe. Familiar.
Until the door shut behind her.
She froze. Slowly turned.
Anton stood there, broad shoulders filling the doorway, eyes locked on her with a calm intensity that made her stomach flip.
“...What are you doing here?” she asked, voice too light, too forced.
His expression didn’t change. “Looking for you.”
Her heart thudded. “Why?”
“You know why.”
She swallowed, forcing a laugh. “If this is about the party—”
“It is.” He stepped closer, the darkroom light catching the sharp lines of his face. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I haven’t—”
“Yes, you have.” His tone stayed quiet, but the edge in it cut deep. “You won’t even look at me.”
She turned away, fiddling with her camera strap. “There’s nothing to look at. We were drunk. Things got… messy. That’s all.”
Silence. Heavy.
Then his footsteps crossed the room, steady and slow until he was right behind her.
“Nayeon.” His voice was lower now, softer but dangerous. “Don’t lie to me.”
Her hands trembled against the camera. “I don’t remember, Anton. Whatever you think happened, it was just—”
He caught her wrist, gentle but unyielding, spinning her to face him. His eyes burned into hers, dark and furious and aching all at once.
“You don’t remember screaming my name while you came around my cock?” he asked, voice harsh in the quiet.
Her breath caught, her face going scarlet. “Anton—”
“You don’t remember begging me not to stop?” He stepped closer, his chest brushing hers now. “Don’t stand here and tell me it was just the alcohol. You were sober enough to feel every second of it.”
Her knees went weak, back pressing against the edge of the counter as he crowded her space.
She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t breathe.
Because he was right. And he knew it.
The silence between them stretched, thick and choking.
Anton’s hand still circled Nayeon’s wrist, his grip firm but never cruel. He could feel the quick flutter of her pulse beneath his fingers.
She yanked lightly, testing, but he didn’t let go.
“Anton,” she whispered, flustered, “you’re… you’re remembering it wrong.”
His eyes narrowed. “Am I?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. If she admitted it, if she let the words spill, then there would be no going back. Pretending would no longer be an option. And wasn’t pretending safer? Cleaner?
“You’re making it sound like—”
“Like what?” he cut in, voice low. “Like it mattered?”
Her breath caught. His eyes searched hers, sharp and searching, as if he could drag the truth out of her throat by sheer will.
And maybe he could, if he pushed harder.
But then, slowly, he exhaled. Released her wrist. Stepped back.
Nayeon nearly stumbled at the sudden freedom, the absence of his heat.
He raked a hand through his damp hair, jaw tight, expression hard to read. “Fine. Pretend it didn’t happen. If that’s what you need.”
Her chest squeezed. His voice wasn’t angry, not exactly— it was worse. Controlled. Clipped.
Like he was holding back an entire storm.
She tried to gather herself, forcing the words out. “It didn’t.”
His eyes flicked back to hers, pinning her in place. “You really believe that?”
Nayeon faltered, her throat dry. She looked away, fumbling with the strap of her bag like it could anchor her. “I have to go. I’m late.”
And just like that, she brushed past him, heart hammering against her ribs.
Anton didn’t stop her. He only watched, silent, his expression unreadable as the door shut behind her.
But after that, avoiding him wasn’t so easy.
He was everywhere. Passing her in the halls. Standing in line at the café. Leaning against the railing outside the library when she left late at night. Always calm, always composed— but his eyes never left her.
Not accusing, not demanding. Just waiting.
It made her skin prickle, her stomach knot. Because every time she told herself it had been the alcohol, every time she forced herself to believe the excuse, his steady gaze seemed to strip the lie bare.
And deep down, she hated how much a part of her wanted him to call her bluff.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
The annual campus festival was noisy, colorful, crowded— the exact kind of place Nayeon usually hated. But as part of the photography club, she had no choice but to be there, camera in hand, weaving through throngs of students to capture snapshots for the club’s display.
She’d told herself it would be fine. Big crowd, plenty of distraction. Easy to avoid him.
Until she spotted the swimming team’s booth across the courtyard.
Anton.
Tall, broad-shouldered, unmistakable even among his teammates. He wore the club’s team shirt, sleeves stretched tight over his arms, posture easy as he leaned against the table. He wasn’t doing anything extraordinary, just existing— but even from a distance, her lens lingered on him longer than it should.
Her chest tightened. She quickly turned her camera elsewhere, snapping photos of balloons and food stalls, anything but him.
But her eyes betrayed her, flicking back again and again.
And then she saw it.
One of the swimmers— tall, pretty, with glossy hair pulled into a high ponytail, drifted close to him. Too close.
She touched his arm as she laughed, fingers curling lightly against the curve of his bicep. Anton tilted his head, listening, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
Something ugly twisted in Nayeon’s chest.
She froze, her camera half-lifted, lens still pointed at them.
Jealousy.
The realization hit like a stone in her stomach.
Hot, bitter, irrational.
She had no right, none at all, and yet the sight of someone else leaning into him, touching him, made her blood run hot.
Her hands tightened around the camera.
Stupid. This was stupid. They weren’t anything. What happened in that closet didn’t mean anything. She’d decided that. She needed it to mean nothing.
So why did she want to march over there and rip the girl’s hand off him?
She sucked in a shaky breath, spun on her heel, and disappeared into the crowd.
For the rest of the day, she threw herself into work, snapping photos with ruthless focus, refusing to glance toward the swimmers’ booth again. When one of her friends called her to join for snacks, she made excuses. When another tried to drag her to watch the stage performance, she slipped away.
Anything to keep distance.
Anything to bury the jealousy clawing at her throat.
But later, when she ducked behind the library building to catch her breath, she felt it again— that heavy, piercing weight.
She didn’t have to look to know.
Anton was watching her.
Across the courtyard, leaning casually against a lamppost, his eyes fixed on her like she was the only person there. No accusation, no anger. Just steady, quiet focus.
Nayeon’s stomach knotted, heat flooding her chest. She tore her gaze away, shoving her camera into her bag, and walked off quickly.
This time, she didn’t just avoid him. She ran.
Avoidance became Nayeon’s full-time job.
If Anton entered a room, she left. If he lingered in the hallway, she ducked into the nearest classroom. If their paths crossed by accident, she kept her gaze fixed firmly on the ground, pretending she didn’t feel the weight of his eyes on her.
It was exhausting.
Worse, it didn’t work.
Because no matter how far she ran, he was there. Quiet. Unshakable. Watching.
Not chasing, not cornering her again. Just existing where she could see him— like a shadow she couldn’t shake.
And that made it worse.
At night, lying in bed, she replayed the image of that girl’s hand sliding over his arm. The way he’d tilted his head, the faint smile tugging at his lips. The picture looped in her head until her chest ached.
He can smile like that at her, but not at me.
Her fists clenched in the sheets. Good. That’s good. I don’t want him to. I don’t care.
But her body betrayed her, warmth pooling low in her stomach as memories of the closet bled through— his mouth on her throat, his hand between her thighs, the way he’d whispered her name like he owned it.
Nayeon buried her face in the pillow and groaned.
Her friends didn’t make it easier.
“Seven minutes in heaven, huh?” one of them teased over lunch, waggling her eyebrows. “More like thirty. What were you even doing in there?”
“Nothing!” Nayeon snapped too quickly, cheeks burning. She fumbled with her chopsticks, almost dropping them. “It was just… the dare. Nothing happened.”
Her friends exchanged knowing looks. “Mmhm. Sure. Totally nothing.”
She wanted to disappear.
By the end of the week, she was unraveling.
Her photos turned sloppy, her sleep was wrecked. Every time she thought she’d found her footing, she’d feel it— that heavy gaze on her back. She’d look up and find him across the library, across the courtyard, across the cafeteria, calm as ever.
Waiting.
It made her furious. It made her restless. It made her want him.
And the more that want festered, the harder she avoided him.
Because if she stopped running, even for a second, she knew the truth would catch her.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
It happened again.
The courtyard was buzzing with festival prep, students hauling boxes and stringing banners. Nayeon had her camera raised, framing shots of the chaos, pretending her pulse wasn’t already climbing just from knowing Anton’s team was stationed nearby.
She told herself she wouldn’t look. Not today. Not again.
But she did.
And there she was— the same girl, ponytail swinging, leaning into him with a laugh that seemed too rehearsed, too sweet. Her hand lingered on his shoulder this time, casual but possessive, fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt like she belonged there.
Anton didn’t push her away.
He didn’t encourage her either, not in any obvious way. Just that faint, polite smile, his usual calm. But it didn’t matter. To Nayeon, it felt like a blade twisting in her gut.
Her throat tightened. Heat flared sharp and ugly in her chest, burning through every excuse she’d clung to.
She spun on her heel, camera clutched too tight in her hand, and fled before she could humiliate herself with the expression on her face.
By the time she stumbled into the empty stairwell of the arts building, her breath was ragged.
This is stupid. This is so stupid.
She pressed her forehead against the cool wall, eyes shut tight. But shutting them only made it worse. Because the moment darkness filled her vision, the memories came rushing back— not hazy, not blurred by alcohol, but sharp and vivid.
Anton’s mouth dragging down her throat. The rasp of his voice in her ear. The heat of his hand shoving her skirt up, fingers sinking into her until she was gasping against his lips.
The way he’d pushed into her, filling her so deep she thought she might break, his grip on her hips bruising and desperate as she clung to him.
Her body shivered, betraying her, the ache of those moments still alive beneath her skin.
She remembered everything. Every second.
And no matter how hard she tried to scrub him from her mind, Anton was there— in her thoughts, in her dreams, in the restless heat that never quite faded no matter how many times she tossed and turned in her sheets at night.
The alcohol hadn’t made her want him.
It had only stripped away the walls she kept building around herself.
Walls that were crumbling now, faster and faster, no matter how she tried to patch them up.
She hated it. She hated him.
And most of all, she hated how badly she wanted him still.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
Nayeon thought she was safe.
The library was quiet at night, nearly empty, the air heavy with the smell of old books. She’d stayed late, burying herself in editing photos, determined to drown out the restless thoughts Anton had left festering in her.
But when she left, slipping into the shadowed corridor, she froze.
Anton leaned against the wall by the exit, as if he’d been waiting all along.
Her stomach dropped. “You—”
“Yeah.” His voice was calm, steady, but his eyes glinted in the dim light. “You’ve been running long enough, Nayeon.”
She tightened her grip on her bag. “I told you. I don’t—”
“You don’t remember?” He pushed off the wall, stepping closer. His sheer height and breadth made the hallway feel smaller. “Funny. Because I do. Every fucking second.”
Her throat went dry.
His mouth curled faintly. “Do you know how many nights I’ve woken up because of you? How many times I’ve come in my sleep, hearing you beg me not to stop?”
Her knees nearly buckled, heat slamming through her body like a punch.
Anton’s voice dropped lower, rougher. “I’ve been dreaming about you, Nayeon. About the way you sound when I’m inside you. About how tight you feel around me. You think you can erase that with silence?”
Her breath hitched, shame and want tangling violently in her chest.
Then he held up his phone. “Give me your number.”
She blinked, startled. “What? No—”
“Or I’ll ask one of your friends,” he said simply, tone maddeningly even. “But you’ll give it to me. You want to.”
Her pulse thundered in her ears. Against every shred of reason, she rattled it off. He tapped it in, eyes never leaving hers, the weight of his smirk unbearable.
Later that night, her phone buzzed.
1 New Message.
[Anton]: don’t ignore me again
Her hands shook.
The next buzz came before she could breathe.
2 New Messages.
[Anton]: been hard ever since i saw you at the festival
[Anton]: want to see?
Her chest locked tight.
Another buzz. A photo.
She gasped, heat flooding her face as she fumbled the phone. Anton, sprawled on his bed, shirt rucked up, sweatpants shoved low enough to see his cock straining against the fabric. Hard. Thick. Undeniable.
The caption burned into her vision.
[Anton]: thinking about your mouth on me
Her legs pressed together instinctively, her body betraying her with a sharp, aching throb.
She should delete it. Block him. Anything.
Instead, she stared.
Another buzz.
[Anton]: you’re wet right now, aren’t you?
Her breath shuddered out, guilt and hunger tangling until she could barely think.
And somewhere down the hall, Anton’s low chuckle echoed— because he already knew the answer.
The worst part wasn’t the picture.
It was the waiting after.
Nayeon lay on her bed, phone face-down beside her, chest tight. Every buzz made her jump. Every second she didn’t check it felt like torture.
When she caved and turned it over, the screen lit up.
[Anton]: still thinking about you in that closet
[Anton]: the way you clenched around me when you came. fuck
Her throat worked, dry.
Another buzz.
[Anton]: you ever touch yourself thinking about it?
[Anton]: bet you have
Her fingers curled tight around the phone, heat spiking through her veins. She typed a reply— Stop. Don’t text me. Then deleted it. Typed again— You’re disgusting. Then deleted that too.
She tossed the phone aside, burying her face in the pillow.
It buzzed again.
[Anton]: you’re quiet. that means yes
[Anton]: good girl
Her body jolted, shame and want twisting deep.
By midnight, she was trembling. Her thighs pressed tight, her sheets tangled, the ache between her legs unbearable. She picked up the phone with shaking hands.
One message blinked, unread.
[Anton]: want me to stop? say it.
Her breath shuddered. Her thumbs hovered.
She typed slowly, against every nerve screaming at her to resist.
[Nayeon]: yes
Send.
The reply came instantly.
[Anton]: liar.
Her chest seized.
Another buzz. Another photo.
This time, his cock in his fist, glistening at the tip, veins thick under his grip.
[Anton]: i’m stroking it for you right now
[Anton]: thinking about how you tasted
Her stomach dropped, her pulse hammering between her thighs. Her phone slipped from her hand onto the mattress.
She stared.
Her breath came ragged, shallow, as heat clawed through her chest. Before she could stop herself, she lifted the phone again, flipped the camera to front-facing. Her reflection stared back: flushed cheeks, mussed hair, lips bitten red.
Her thumb trembled. One photo. Send.
The message blinked away, leaving her stomach plummeting.
It wasn’t much— just her face, the look of her flushed and undone. But it was enough. Too much.
The three dots appeared immediately.
[Anton]: pretty
[Anton]: bet you’re soaked right now
Her hand shook. She almost dropped the phone again.
Another buzz.
[Anton]: show me.
Her whole body burned, shame and desire pulling her in opposite directions until she thought she might break.
And yet, the phone stayed in her hand.
Waiting.
The phone burned hot in Nayeon’s palm. The last message sat there, mocking her.
Her body ached. Her panties were already damp, her thighs slick where they pressed together. She shouldn’t. She couldn’t. This was the line, the one she swore she’d never cross.
And yet…
Her breath shuddered as she slid her hand down, tugging the waistband of her shorts low. The cold air hit her skin, sharp against the feverish heat between her thighs.
She switched the camera. Lifted it.
For a second, shame stopped her. Her finger hovered.
Then she pressed record.
Just ten seconds. Her fingers spreading herself, glistening. A muffled whimper spilling past her lips.
She hit send before she could stop herself.
The second it left her screen, her stomach dropped.
What did I just do?
She threw the phone down, burying her face in her hands.
But when it buzzed again, she couldn’t resist. She looked.
No text. Just dots. He was typing. Then it stopped.
Another buzz.
Incoming call: Anton.
Her chest seized. She froze, trembling.
The screen glowed. Ringing. Ringing.
Her thumb slid across before she even realized it.
“...Hello?”
His voice hit her like a blow, low and rough, heavy with need. “Fuck, Nayeon.”
Her breath caught.
“You’re killing me,” he rasped. “Do you have any idea what that did to me? Seeing your pretty pussy spread open for me like that?”
Her knees curled up against her chest, her whole body trembling. “Anton—”
“You’re soaked, aren’t you?” His breath hitched, sharp in her ear. “I can hear it in your voice. I bet your fingers are still wet.”
Heat pulsed between her thighs, unbearable. She whimpered.
He groaned low, like he could see her even now. “Touch yourself for me. Right now.”
Her hand slipped between her legs before she could think, slick fingers circling her clit. She bit back a moan, the sound strangled.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice cracking faintly. “Let me hear you.”
Her eyes squeezed shut. Her hips jerked helplessly. The sound of his breath on the line— heavy, ragged, only pushed her higher.
“You think I haven’t been jerking off to the memory of you every night since that closet?” His voice dropped, raw and feverish. “You think I haven’t dreamed about fucking you on my knees, filling you up until you scream for me again?”
Her moan ripped free, loud and broken, her fingers working faster.
He groaned in response, the sound so guttural she swore she could feel it in her bones.
“Good girl,” he growled, breathless. “Cum for me, Nayeon. Cum while I’m listening.”
And with his voice dragging her over the edge, she shattered, gasping his name into the phone as her body clenched and broke around her own fingers.
For a long moment, all Nayeon could hear was her own ragged breathing— quick, shaky, broken by little whimpers as the aftershocks rippled through her.
Then she heard him.
A low, guttural sound. His breath uneven, almost a snarl. “Fuck— Nayeon—”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She curled tighter on her bed, phone pressed against her ear, every nerve in her body raw.
“Do you— do you even know,” Anton choked, voice breaking, “how hard my cock is right now?”
Her throat worked, dry. She couldn’t speak.
“You drove me insane the second you sent that video,” he went on, voice hoarse, every word jagged with restraint. “I almost— almost came just watching it. You spreading yourself open for me, whimpering like that— fuck, I can’t—”
A wet, rhythmic sound reached her ear. Her body jolted.
Her lips parted, breath catching. He was stroking himself.
Fast. Hard.
Her thighs pressed together again, the oversensitivity sparking into new heat.
“Anton…” Her whisper cracked, pleading without meaning to.
He groaned, sharp and broken, like her voice alone pushed him further. “Don’t— don’t say my name like that— I’ll fucking lose it.”
The pace quickened on the other end of the line, slick and desperate. She could almost see it — his fist pumping up and down his cock, veins standing out, tip flushed and dripping.
Her body burned all over again.
“Tell me—” His voice was ragged, almost desperate. “Tell me you’re still wet for me.”
She swallowed hard, eyes squeezing shut. “I am.”
He cursed low, almost vicious, before sucking in a sharp breath. “Fuck. Do you know what I’d do if you were here right now? I’d bend you over that bed and sink into you raw, make you scream into the pillow so no one else could hear. Fill you up till you couldn’t take anymore.”
Her moan cracked out of her, uncontained.
“That’s it,” he growled, breath tearing out of him. “Don’t stop— let me hear it— let me hear you fall apart for me again.”
The slick sound grew faster, rougher, his breath wild. “God, Nayeon— I’m so close— I’m gonna cum— fuck—”
She clutched the sheets, nails digging deep, her body trembling as if she could feel every snap of his hips against her.
“Say my name,” he demanded, voice raw, breaking.
“Anton—”
That was it.
He groaned so loud she had to bite her lip not to cry out with him. The sound of it— wet, messy, uncontrollable, filled her ear, echoing in her chest. She could hear it, the release, the low curses spilling between his gasps as he stroked himself through his climax.
Finally, silence. Only the two of them breathing, ragged and uneven, connected through the faint crackle of the line.
Then his voice came again, low and wrecked, but with a dangerous edge of a smile.
“Next time,” he murmured, still panting, “you won’t get to hide behind a phone.”
Nayeon shivered, unable to answer, the weight of what just happened crashing down.
And yet… she didn’t hang up.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
Nayeon woke up to the sound of her alarm and the weight of dread pressed down harder than the sunlight streaming across her sheets.
Her phone lay on the pillow beside her, screen black, but she swore she could still hear him in her ear. His groans, his curses, the way he said her name like it belonged to him.
Heat prickled up her neck. She shoved the phone under the pillow like that would erase everything.
But nothing erased it. Not the shower she took— twice. Not the coffee she forced down. Not even the chatter of her friends in class. The memory clung to her like sweat: the way she came with her own fingers while he listened, the slick sound of his fist on his cock, his voice breaking when he finished because of her.
She could still feel it. The way her body tightened just hearing him lose control.
And worse— she wanted it again.
She wanted him again.
Her stomach twisted, a knot of shame and hunger. She avoided her friends’ curious glances, laughed when she had to, nodded at jokes she didn’t hear. Every time her phone buzzed in her bag, she froze.
But she never deleted the messages.
By evening, she gave in and checked.
A single unread text blinked back.
[Anton]: can’t stop thinking about your moans last night
Her breath hitched.
Another followed before she could put the phone down.
[Anton]: you sound even prettier when you’re about to cum
Her pulse hammered so hard it hurt. She set the phone face down on her desk, covering her face with both hands.
“No,” she whispered to herself. “No, no, no.”
But the problem was she remembered.
Every second in the closet. Every word over the phone. Every dirty thing she swore she’d forget, replaying on loop whenever she closed her eyes.
And no matter how much she told herself it was a mistake, her body betrayed her. The ache came back. The heat. The way her thighs pressed together under the desk as if seeking relief.
She hated herself for it.
She hated him more for making it impossible to stop.
And yet, when her phone buzzed again, she reached for it like she’d been waiting all day.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
Days had passed since the phone call.
For Nayeon, time seemed simultaneously endless and impossibly short. Every class, every corridor, every moment between school bells felt suffocating, like the world had shrunk around her own inability to forget Anton’s voice— raw, commanding, shattering.
Even now, she could replay the phone sex perfectly in her mind: the way he’d groaned her name, ragged and needy; the way his voice had tightened when she moaned into the phone; the way he’d come, his gasps vibrating through the line like they were tangible.
Her fingers itched, her thighs burned, but she refused to give in again.
She told herself she was done. That she was in control.
And then she saw her.
The same girl from before— standing by the poolside, leaning close to Anton, laughing too loudly, brushing her fingers against his arm in that casual, intimate way that made Nayeon’s stomach drop.
Time seemed to stop. Her chest tightened, her jaw locked. The ache she had been suppressing for days suddenly burned like fire through her veins.
She wanted to turn away. She wanted to vanish. And so she did.
For the next few days, Nayeon became a ghost around him.
She skipped the photography club meetings where he might appear. She took alternate routes across campus to avoid the pool where his team trained. She ignored texts he sent— some playful, some teasing, some impossible to ignore.
Every avoidance came at a cost. Her thoughts would wander, betraying her:
Do you think he’s thinking about me now?
Does he remember the way I came for him on the phone?
What if he’s touching himself while she’s there?
Her skin flushed with heat and guilt at the mere thought.
Even in class, her attention wandered. She found herself staring at empty seats, imagining him leaning there, voice low, brushing words across her mind as he did over the phone.
When her friends tried to tease her, she snapped. When they asked if she’d texted him back, she evaded.
And every time her phone buzzed, her chest clenched, a mixture of hope and dread tearing her apart.
By the end of the week, her focus on schoolwork had deteriorated.
Photos she once took with careful framing and attention to detail now came out sloppy, haphazard, mirroring the chaos in her mind.
Every time she glimpsed Anton in the hall— tall, broad-shouldered, calm as ever, her stomach knotted. She clenched her bag tighter, blinked rapidly, and turned away.
Even as she tried to convince herself that avoiding him was the answer, a part of her knew it wasn’t. The memory of him— of that night, of the phone call, was embedded in her body, a pulse she couldn’t suppress.
And yet, she ran.
She ran from him, from the jealousy, from the truth that she could no longer deny: she wanted him, needed him, and nothing else mattered.
Across campus, Anton noticed. Always. Patient. Observant. Waiting.
The library was nearly empty, the late afternoon sunlight slanting across the stacks in golden shafts.
Nayeon had tried to convince herself that she could hide here, that she could immerse herself in her photography notes and pretend the world, and Anton didn’t exist.
She failed almost immediately.
He was there, leaning against the doorway, tall and calm, eyes locking on hers the instant he saw her.
Her chest tightened. Her stomach dropped.
She tried to slip between the shelves, to disappear into the shadows, but he moved faster, cutting off her path effortlessly.
“Really?” His voice was quiet, steady, but layered with frustration. “You’ve been avoiding me for days. Days, Nayeon. Care to tell me why?”
She froze, words catching in her throat. “I—”
“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” His tone softened slightly, teasing, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “I saw the way you looked when she was with me last week. Don’t even try to lie to me.”
Her throat tightened, her fingers curling around her bag strap. “I— it’s nothing. I don’t care.”
He shook his head, stepping closer, a predator calm and sure. “Bullshit. You’re jealous. And the way you’ve been avoiding me proves it.”
Her breath hitched. “I… I don’t know why I—”
“You do,” he cut in, voice low and teasing, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear without touching her face. “You remember every second of what happened. The closet. The call. Every time I made you come. You can deny it all you want, but your body won’t lie. And neither will mine.”
Her pulse thundered. Her legs trembled. Heat pooled low in her stomach. She wanted to run. She wanted to deny. She wanted to scream.
And yet, she stayed.
Anton smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I’m not letting you run anymore, Nayeon. Not now. Not ever. I want you to stop pretending you don’t feel the way you do. I want to hear it from you.”
She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I’m jealous. I… I don’t want anyone else… I want you.”
The corner of his mouth lifted into a satisfied smirk. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’ve only ever wanted you.”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low growl. “And now, I think it’s time you stop running and let me show you exactly how much I want you.”
Her knees nearly buckled. She could feel the tension in the air, the pull of him, and for the first time in days, she didn’t try to escape.
The library was empty except for the two of them, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights the only witness to the storm building between Nayeon and Anton.
She tried to focus on her notes, but her hands shook slightly, the paper slipping under her fingers. Every memory of the phone call— every moan, every desperate whimper into the line, burned in her chest.
Anton leaned closer, his shoulder brushing hers, his presence sharp and overwhelming.
“Stop pretending,” he murmured, low and dangerous, voice vibrating straight through her. “You’ve wanted me from the moment I got on the phone with you. Admit it.”
Her throat went dry. She couldn’t speak.
He smirked, one hand sliding to her wrist, holding it gently but firmly. “Look at me, Nayeon.”
She obeyed, heart hammering, pulse spiking as his dark eyes held hers like they owned her.
Without another word, he tilted her chin, brushing his lips over hers. Soft at first. Testing.
Nayeon froze, then shivered, lips parting instinctively.
His hand slid to her waist, pressing her gently against him. She could feel the heat of his body, the hard line of his chest, the strength in his arms.
Her hands went to his shoulders, clutching him as the kiss deepened. Tongues brushed, mouths moved together with a hunger that had been building since the closet, since the phone call, since the very first moment she realized she couldn’t ignore him.
Anton’s lips trailed down her jaw, her neck, whispering her name in rough, breathless murmurs. “So beautiful… so needy for me…”
Nayeon’s back arched against him, thighs pressing together under the table, trembling as his hand slid under the hem of her skirt. She gasped, breath hitching, body betraying her every attempt to stay composed.
His fingers found her slick folds, sliding inside her carefully, teasing, drawing soft moans from her lips. “God, you’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his mouth pressing against her ear.
She could only shiver, unable to speak, unable to stop the flood of sensation crashing through her. His thumb circled her clit, fingers thrusting inside her, and she moaned freely, loud, messy, entirely unashamed.
Anton’s other hand gripped her waist, steadying her, his own arousal pressing against her thigh. “You feel so good, Nayeon. I’ve waited too long to have you like this again.”
She gasped as his mouth returned to hers, tongue tangling with hers, every kiss a mixture of hunger and control. Her body shuddered, thighs trembling uncontrollably.
“Cum for me,” he whispered harshly, hand working her faster, lips nipping at her jaw and neck. “Let me hear you.”
She cried out his name, her body clenching and breaking around his fingers, waves of pleasure shaking her from head to toe.
Anton groaned against her, lips brushing her ear. “Fuck… yes. So perfect…” His own hips pressed harder, and the sound of him losing himself, close, restrained, made her gasp again.
The table, the empty library, the quiet stacks— none of it mattered. There was only them.
The ache, the heat, the need, and the first messy, perfect reunion of bodies finally giving in to everything they’d been holding back.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
a/n: after proofreading this over and over, i think i finally have the confidence to post my smut draft haha.... hope yall freaks enjoy this as much as i do :p i think i have too much sungchan and anton drafts but wonbin draft is coming up!!!! for my wonbin's girlie bestie too. i just need to proofread it and fix a lot of stuff first before finally posting it to the public.
a/n: first eunseok fic... kinda nervous eee also this turned out WAY longer than i thought it'd be... i hope you guys enjoy <3
contains: eunseok x reader, cs!students eunseok & reader, totally-virgin!eunseok x slightly-more-experienced!reader, reader implied to be smaller than him, eunseok wears glasses and has poor eyesight, porn without much plot, making out, nipple sucking/play, penetration (p in v), let me know if i missed any tags! (2.9k)
dividers by: mdni by @mikeykuns, ending divider by @fairytopea
cs-student!eunseok helping you code… him teaching you how to optimize code… partnering up for your coding projects because he’s so much better than you, yet he sits, teaches, and explains everything he’s done so far… telling you what you should get done by the next time you both meet up… him encouraging and praising you, and he eventually ends up calling you all sorts of nicknames like smart girl and doll… he invites you over to his place and you end up staying later than expected as you finish the project with him but it’s just too dark for you to head back… and he’s so worried to let you leave, offering to drop you off where ever you live, but a part of him wants you to stay as he tugs your hand and pulls you closer and closer…
his hands find their way around your waist as he pulls you to him, bodies colliding as the back of his knees hit the low bed. effectively, he stumbles and falls backwards, with you landing on top of him. but this is the closest he’s ever been to you, let alone any girl. everything up till this point happened so naturally over the course of the past 2 months, and even he has been surprised at how easily he was able to manage to be as confident as he’s been with you.
but he’s at his wits end as he looks into your eyes, your fluttering eyelashes and rosy cheeks looking back at him in anticipation. he’s just… sorry to disappoint you now, bringing you to stay on his lap as he sits up and sighs.
“i’m... sorry. i’ve never done anything like this before, and i’ll probably end up not even being as good as you think.” his voice is full of remorse as he twiddles his thumbs neatly placed in between your bodies as a line of defense. eunseok’s gaze falls on them as you look at him, finally getting a clear glimpse into why he’s been so nervous to make a proper move this whole time.
you knew something is definitely there between you both, but as you lift his cowardly face to look into his eyes, the simple smile that adorns your face makes him think of you as an angel disguised as a human. you lean down to his lips, falling an inch short before actually touching his as you spoke, “don’t worry. let me repay you for all you’ve taught me.”
the very first connection with you has his mind blowing up like fireworks on a dark night, pleasing a crowd full of expectant eyes. the sticky lip gloss you wore clung to him as you let go, just to go back to kiss him once again. you can feel him stop breathing as you do so a couple more times, putting a hand over his chest to signal him to relax and just breathe.
as he opened his eyes and took a deep breath in, his lights shone around you like a halo, really making you look like an angel as it’s your turn to tell him that he’s doing so well. the boy turns shy as the fan’s winds circulate cold air around the room, but his own heat is growing from the unfamiliarity of this situation.
he's seen stuff about this, read books, watched movies, all those things. but to actually have someone treat him so delicately melts him. he pulls you into an embrace, nose against your nape as he breathes in your scent: flowery and vanilla mixed in with a bit of sweat from having sat and worked for hours on end prior.
the hunch of his back as you reciprocate his actions is also oddly endearing. it may have been developed over the years of staring at his screen as he coded the endless projects he's passionately shown you, so you can't help but trace the curves of his spine that shown through his thin shirt. he flinched at first, your touch landing on a foreign part of him, but relaxes soon after, your smell helping.
you slightly shuffle to make him look back up at you, taking a hold of his hands. your serious expression showed concern, confusion, and unease as you whisper, "eunseok, i can tell that you care, but i don't want to do anything if we can't be anything." he just blinks, unsure why you think of him as someone who'd just use you for your body. hell, he even believes he can't pull after years of being a recluse and spending at least 90% of his time on his computers every day.
and as much as you wanted him, he wanted you. maybe even needed you after hearing all the things his roommates have said about him being a lot more active this semester. eunseok knew you were the reason for his changed behavior, the once homebody becoming as outgoing as you are. he’s joined clubs he thought were useless to him before because why would he need to attend social nights when he could just stay home and study? why would he need to attend workshops to build such an elementary level app like a to-do list? he’s far better and experienced, so he’s never cared for those things.
but that was until you invited him to go with you to those events. the simple question you asked after he taught you the class material with deeper knowledge led to him sitting beside you during those workshops. he’s glad he said yes though, because it meant spending more time with you, being able to admire your face for a bit longer.
he remembers distinctly when you questioned why he kept looking at you, a heated blush threatening to rise on his cheeks at your straightforwardness. you were already a light shade of pink from his stare, and ever since then, he’s been more subtle with his glances.
but now, he just shook his head before fixing his posture. looking right into your eyes, his voice sounding firm, he cupped your cheeks with delicacy you've never felt. "y/n, i want you. i've never been more sure about anything in my life, so please believe me when i say this."
you burned just like he did, biting your lower lip as your hands laid on his waist, coming up to his shoulders as he leaned in to kiss you now. this was the kiss.
rather than fireworks and bright halos, this one felt like a bullet train. his movements got faster with need, a sense of urgency taking over the both of you as his hands travelled down your body. he wasn't sure what he was doing, but it felt like instinct as his thumbs went under your shirt to rub your skin directly. the roughness of them excited you as you felt your arousal build up, easily letting the boy lead. every time the two of you let go, heavy breaths were let out before lips reattached.
you took initiative in undressing, taking your shirt off in between. eunseok’s left staring, his cheeks getting an impossibly darker shade of red as he realizes what he’s doing. his hands fumble with his shirt as he follows you, the cloth falling on the floor but not before messing up his hair as he took it off. his glasses messed up too, but you figured it’d be best to take them off for him, neatly putting it on the desk that stood awfully close to his bed in place of a proper nightstand. you shake your head as you chuckle, mentally imagining how he goes to sleep and gets up in the mornings next to his beloved technologies. the image is too cute, but he has no idea what you’re thinking about.
“what’s so funny?” he questions, his voice softer than usual. is his physique not up to par? is he not as you imagined? why are you laughing so… sweetly? those questions disappear though as you just look at him with fondness in your eyes, storing your thought to ask about it later as you go back to kissing him.
it’s easier now, without his glasses getting in the way, and the way you move is intense. your lips have gotten used to each other, opening to let tongues meet and explore one another. gasping at his boldness to bite your lower lip makes him freeze though, but you continue on. in a way, you’re letting him know that you liked it, that he was learning so well. maybe all he needed was the practice now, because he’s so good already.
he traces your body too, molding his palms to your shape as he draws lightly with his fingertips wherever he can reach in slow motions. it’s how he’s remembering you, storing the information in his brain as it processes your every reaction to his touch. and he’s rather proud of it, being able to hear your small gasps and quiet moans as you let them out.
eunseok laid on the bed as you straddled his lap, your body on top of his ever since your shirts came off. another parting from each other had him needing more, but he had to build the confidence first. so he went back in, his swollen lips still not tired of yours as he slowly reached his hand towards the hooks of your bra strap. he pulled on the elastic as you reached your hand back to undo the connection. he then rolled over, now on top of you as he pulled it off, leaving you bare chested as he had been for a while now.
he couldn’t think straight, his brain on autopilot as his large hands cupped one of your breasts whole. it made you crazy too, how he was so much bigger than you, easily able to play with your body, yet he chose not to as he relished each step of progress to your hands. he was learning from you after all.
“can i-” you don’t hesitate to nod as he delves into your chest, littering it with kisses all over before kissing your hardened nipple. engulfing it in his mouth, he let his saliva coat it before sucking, tongue licking around as well. your fingers entangled in his locks as you pulled at his hair, groaning at the feeling he gave you. he held your waist as he did so, and your legs wrapped around his torso while he continued, switching to the other after a couple minutes each time. he swore he could taste something coming out, but didn’t know what as he finally let go, the cold air hitting your damp chest and making you shudder.
kissing down your body, his nose pressed flush against your skin each time, going all around your stomach before traveling back up towards your lips. even though it’s not been too long, you still missed the feeling of his lips against yours as you whimper softly as he lets go, chasing after him. you looked so beautiful, so delicate under him as he held you, pecking once again because how could he resist?
“please, need more eunseok,” you whimper again, opening your dazed looking eyes at him as he sat back up and between your thighs. he was a little troubled though, because he knew he needed a condom, yet he didn’t have any nearby. “sorry doll, i don’t have a condom with me.”
you point towards your bag, shying away from the nickname he just called you by as he raises his brows at you, getting up to get it for you. as he gave it to you, you reached into the front pocket to take a couple out, some in different sizes as you’re not sure which one would fit. “i… came prepared… just in case. not that i knew this would happen!”
the boy above could only chuckle as he shook his head, finding you so adorable. “this one should fit,” he grabbed one from the pile, putting it on the edge of his desk as he looked back up at you. nervousness got to him once again though, his finger hooking onto your bottoms but not daring to do anything more.
so you help him, sitting up on your knees as you felt the mattress dip beneath you from the pressure. your hands held his as you pulled them down, your clothes coming off with the movement and you shuffle out of them before lying back down. “your turn,” you smile at eunseok, who has his teeth chewing on his lower lip.
he… was too cute, getting up and turning around as he undressed fully too, dropping his pants and boxers on the floor before turning around slowly. he thought too much, about whether you’ll be satisfied with him, things like that. but you were watching from behind, keeping your legs closed until he looked at you once again. you pointed at him then, doing a motion to tell him to come here as you parted your legs to make space for him.
he could see your folds glistening as he walked closer, shakily grabbing the condom packet. and as expected, he fumbled with putting it on, so you sat up and helped him. he blushed a lot, mostly out of embarrassment, because he shouldn’t be needing the help in the first place, but the way your fingers trailed along his length before you tugged the plastic onto him made me grateful for his stupidity. and then you laid back down, smiling the same smile you had given him before the first kiss. “be gentle seok.”
his heart was beating out of his chest as he lined himself up to your hole, barely pushing in yet still feeling the weight of the moment, of the intimacy, get to him. he shuddered as he thought about what it would be like to be inside of you, completely taken and surrounded. exhaling and letting his chest fall, his hunch appeared once more as he pushed in just a little.
you gasped at the first intrusion, eyes looking up at him as your mouth parted. your breathing slowed down too as he kept going. centimeter after centimeter, inch after inch, you felt yourself losing control over your lungs as your breath hitched until he settled in you. you don’t stop or tell him anything, just wanting to see what he does. but he listened to you, trying to be as gentle as possible, not even putting any pressure on his hands that held you by your waist.
as he stayed still, you brought your hands to his to interlock your fingers together, before you told him he can move. you were still adjusting to the stretch he gave you but neither of you could wait any longer, eunseok pulling out almost all the way before he slowly dragged his cock back inside along your walls. he couldn’t feel exactly how your warm pussy would be if it were raw, but he could still feel the heat radiating against him as he waited for you to tell him he can move again.
he was sincere in his pauses, looking at you with big eyes as you tried your best to hold back tears from forming from the way he made you feel. incredible, to say the least, but you needed more as you bucked against him, voice shaking with necessity. “please don’t stop, i need you.”
eunseok finally took it as a sign, an explicit command, that he can keep going, setting a pace that he found comfortable as he leaned closer to your face. he couldn’t see that well without his glasses, and he didn’t want to miss any expressions he puts on your face, even keeping quiet as he thrusted simply for you. he didn’t have to do anything more apart from that to have you getting ruined despite him being a virgin, and it drove him crazy to know that he’s the one having this effect on you.
“r-rub my clit please,” you say, trying to help him out as you bring your hands down to where your bodies connect and rub his fingers right where you need. you were soft with it, but as he took over, he pressed a bit harder, sending your body through shock as you arched into him, eyes shut tight as a tear escaped from the corner. he didn’t want to stop, but he was also a little concerned at the sight, so he just leaned down, licking away the salty liquid before kissing your cheek.
the melodious hymns of your various sounds have his stomach turning as he simply continued on, feeling close as he told you so. you only nodded as you mumbled a me too, feeling dizzy as you felt him hit the right spot every time. that, combined with the tingling pressure on your clit, made you throb as you clenched around him and came too soon, gripping harder onto the hand you still held and his shoulder you swung your other arm around. eunseok too came after, grunting as he did, collapsing on top of you after.
he hugged you tight, sweat sticking your bodies together as your breathing steadied. he pulled out a bit after, pulling off the condom exhaustively and lying beside you. you both couldn’t help but giggle after, his cheeks the same color as the rest of his flushed body as the fan’s cool air hit you both. you shivered a bit, and he noticed that as he pulled a blanket on top of the two of you.
“so… you’ll stay the night?”
you look towards him as you nod, clearly tired as you feel your eyes get heavy. his shyness returned as he blushed, reaching for your body before pulling you close to him. he held you by his chest, patting your back as you snuggled into him, letting his body heat and blanket on top help you drift off to sleep. your warmth stayed with you as you whispered a good night, kissing his chest and aligning your ear to his heartbeat.
“good night, y/n,” he whispered, smiling as he too closed his eyes, hoping to meet you in his dreams tonight.
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