hiii may i req anton playing with reader's boobs n sucking on them n taking pictures of them :-) the whole perverted nine yards
say cheese | anton (m)
hiii anon <3 i hope u enjoy and thanks so much for the req!
(i'm an anton oral fixation truther so that's 100% the reason that i was so eager to write this lmaoo)
pairing: bf!anton x fem!reader
wc: 1.3k
genre: smut
warnings: dry humping, A LOT of tit play, intimate photos, petnames, sexual acts during menstruation (no penetration), descriptions including period blood (but none is actually touched or seen!), you both cum in your pants…how romantic
even when you two were actively fucking anton had to have some part of you in his mouth or on his tongue.
specifically, he always found an excuse to play with your tits. claiming that it was to please you.
although it was abundantly clear to the both of you who truly enjoyed it more.
it’s the tail end of your period and although anton insisted…you opt against period sex.
so now you lay sprawled out in bed, dry humping your boyfriend like a crazed freak.
anton’s lengthy body is slotted between your legs; the weight of his hardened cock against your thigh is no help in soothing the agonizing ache of your cunt. each drag against his thigh sending a wave of pleasure from the pit of your stomach up through your chest.
your tits are beyond swollen, sensitive to the touch.
and anton’s busy making a whiny mess of you.
your shirt is completely deformed from the way he continuously yanked at it to tongue at your nipples. begging, “please.” in his featherlight voice just swearing he just wanted to make you feel good, despite the way he’s rock hard and rutting against the underside of your thigh.
his hand, gentle in contrast with his mouth, cradles your unoccupied mound.
“toni,” you sigh, jaw borderline unhinged with the way your mouth is wide open—whimpers seeming to be the only way you can indicate to him that he’s making you feel good.
“shit—baby, you look so pretty like this,” he groans, “wish i had a photo of your tits.” his words are muffled by your cleavage.
you can tell he didn’t intend for you to hear the second part, but he commits.
“proof that you let me do whatever i want when i get you like this.”
you whine, legs twitching near his hips that force you wide open.
“then take one.”
his eyes momentarily got wide at the suddenness of those three words.
“yeah? you wanna pose for me?” he urges, eyeing the way you’re covered in the sheen of his spit, scattered hues of violet already in bloom across your entire chest.
you don’t have to oblige again before he’s already got his film camera in the hand that isn’t squeezing each of your tits, grip embedded like he’s got a hold on a piece of memory foam.
he hisses at the way your plush flesh bulges from each space between his slender fingers.
you’re embarrassingly responsive as you let anton have his way with you, the noises that fall rushed from between your lips meet his ears, unwavering and combined with the shuttering of his camera. your cheeks flushed, eyes glossed over as they take in the mess of your boyfriend while he’s straddled above you.
his hair is tousled from the way you ran your fingers through it moments ago, a thin layer of sweat altering the way his shirt clings to his sculpted upper body.
your cunt clenches around nothing.
“gonna develop every. single. photo.” anton mumbles from behind the camera.
your doe eyes peer up at him through the lense. pleading, although you’re not sure what for.
"say cheese." he snorts sarcastically.
*click*
the shutter sounds and a brief flash blinds you.
“for all the nights that i have to be away from you,” anton continues, throwing the camera to the side of your body not caring how it lands on the mattress with a faint thud.
then his hips are flush against yours, the press of his cock against your clit that’s completely covered makes your thighs shake.
“maybe i’ll scatter the photos across the bed, fuck my hand, wishing it was you touching me instead—cum all over the prints, paint your tits...this pretty face.” he rolls his hips forwards, bringing a hand up to tilt your head towards him. his sentence is punctuated with the way your lips part in a moan.
the way the blood leaking from your insides mixes with your arousal is embarrasingly erotic. each time anton grinds between your hips a squelch can be heard.
you feel disgusting, but the feeling fades immediately when you consider how anton was ready to stick his dick in you earlier despite the crimson beneath your soiled panties. that was a dead give away that you being on your period didn't actually matter to him much.
you lose it, biting down on your tongue to contain yourself.
“you’d like that, hmm?” your boyfriend taunts, his hips not stopping but instead pressing harder. he’s watching your face with intent to watch your resolve continue to slip.
“pretending you don’t, always coy with me so i get embarrassed for wanting this.” he tugs on one of your nipples particularly rough, then he lands an open handed strike in the same spot, watching the way it bounces back right in front of his face.
you yelp, head lulling back between your shoulder blades. both your eyes grow extremely heavy before they fall shut.
“my dirty girl.”
you’re gushing at the lewdness of the nickname, your ankles that are now locked behind him cause the heels of your feet to dig into his lower back.
then his lips are on you again, soothing the increased throbbing of your poor buds.
anton takes both your breasts in his hands, pressing them together until your nipples almost create an arrow pointing directly towards his greedy mouth.
parting his lips he holds out his tongue, flattening it and shaking his head side to side against your nipples that grow even harder than before at the sensation.
the way you choke on a whimper makes his stomach flip, his brows furrow at the feeling of his cock sloppily leaking into his boxers.
“anton—oh my god!” you practically scream, imagining how your throat will ache in the hours to follow.
the thought that you weren’t the one that was supposed to enjoy any of this more than anton is furthest from your mind.
all you can do is reel at the feeling, pussy beginning to spasm.
it doesn’t take much longer before you start to cum in your shorts, entire body trembling while you hold onto anton like he’d disappear into thin air.
you can feel the heat of his own release against your thigh. his tip damp through the rough barrier of his pants. he’s persistent in smearing his cum against your legs that are still spread impossibly wide. both your hips continue in motion until his cock begins to soften.
anton releases your nipple from his mouth with a pop, bottom lip glistening as it’s connected to you by a singular string of his salvia.
you’re spent, painfully overstimulated now. you attempt to physically recoil against his touch. hissing when he places one last kiss to each of your tits before attempting to fix the disarray of your garments.
when both your bra and shirt are somewhat back in place you’re huffing, struggling to catch your breath. but your mind begins to venture.
your heart hammers in your chest at the thought of how many photos he’d taken, and you become dizzy with the uncertainty of his true intended use.
anton would never show the photos to anybody other than you.
he’d actually rather die than let someone else see the way you looked underneath him: fucked out, clothes messily pulled aside, covered in the evidence of just how much you belonged to him. the thought never crossed his mind. but you knew that.
that’s not why your heart was near lurching out of your chest.
you could only pray that he’d use the pictures of you to get him through a lonely night or two…or three.
but the mental image of him taking a massive hand to yank at his angrily leaky cock while he panted and whimpered as his stomach flexed, sweat soaking every inch of him—it was enough to send one final gush of wetness from of your cunt.
because he’d be doing it while looking at a plethora of photos that would reveal your tits that you let him bruise and abuse.
pictures that you let him take.













