🪼⋆｡𖦹°. synopsis: you and your ex agreed to stay friends after a breakup–but what happens you're both drunk and he sees you grinding on another man?
(,,>ヮ<,,)! ~ contents: smut!!! 18+, some sungchan x reader, jealous!anton, drunk!anton, ex!anton, drunk AND unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it!), p in v, clingy!anton, grinding, dom anton, ass slapping, anton lwks has a breeding kink...
🫧⋆. author's note: this was 100% inspired by youngji's interview w/ anton...
it’s been roughly four months since you and anton broke up; there wasn’t much to it. he took his life a bit more serious than you did–he was captain of SNU’s swim team, at the top of his classes, and had lots of friends–he was the perfect guy, you should’ve been grateful you were even given a chance to date a guy like him…
but he was too perfect. you were a straight B student, not all that athletic, and 99% of the time went out partying instead of studying. whenever you would ask your lovely boyfriend to hang out, he told you the same three things:
‘sorry baby, i have swim.’
‘can’t, i have to study for exams coming up.’
‘can’t tonight–i’m busy.’
right, maintaining that perfect image took some effort–you admired anton for being so on top of it all. but when he began sacrificing all of his time with you, you realized maybe having a relationship with him wasn’t best.
“i want to break up.”
anton looked at you wide-eyed. “what?”
“chanyoung–you’re just too busy,” you started. “you’re a great guy, but it’s clear you don’t have time for me. we haven’t gone on a date in months, i don’t think we’ve had a real conversation for a while now–”
“yeah i’m–i, i know,” he replied. “i know we’ve talked about this a lot, and i think i agree…”
you pause. “i think it would be better if we just stayed friends.”
so the two of you did. if you had to be completely honest, things were great–you could do whatever you wanted without fear, without any agonizing thoughts of your boyfriend not texting you back, potentially cheating on you with some other girl smarter and prettier than you.
with exams finally over, shotaro invited you to a house party to celebrate. who were you to say no to some free liquor?
there, you met sungchan: soccer player in the year above you, seemed pretty into you from the amount of times he’s grinded on you tonight…
he bounced the ping pong ball, landing it into the last cup on your side of the table. you raised the red solo cup to your lips and downed another cup of beer–him and wonbin cheering from the other side of the table.
“whichever team loses has to drink a shot of tequila too.” sungchan giggled, clearly drunk as he hunched over the table about to puke at any moment… to be honest, the amount of alcohol you consumed tonight was starting to get to your head as well.
“shit–sungchan when i get my hands on you,” you laughed as you and winter poured each other more liquor. the two of you clinked your glasses together and took another shot.
he came up behind you and held you in a tight embrace, resting his hands on your hips as you pressed your lips onto his. one thing came to another–and here you were, atop sungchan’s lap. there were about ten people in the room aside from you and him, but you couldn’t care less.
sungchan palmed your ass and pulled you closer to him, settling your clothed pussy atop the bulge in his jeans. his tongue tangled with yours as you began to rock your hips back and forth on top of him. he let out a groan as you rubbed yourself against him.
“fuck, sungchan i’m so wet–”
“i know you are…you want me to take care of you?”
you nod, and he tells you to stay there as he searches for a condom from one of his friends. you couldn’t care less if he used a condom or not–leaving you here alone and horny wasn’t a good look..
suddenly, you felt someone’s grip on your wrist, pulling you upstairs and into one of the open rooms. you looked up as he dragged you, spotting a familiar face. he dragged you into the room and locked the door behind him.
“anton–what the fuck.. why are you here–”
“what are you doing?” he replied, voice deep. you’ve never seen him this angry. it was kinda turning you on. “why were you all up on him?”
“it’s none of your business anton–we broke up, remember?” you said harshly. you noticed the flush of red on the tip of his ears. “anton…you’re drunk–”
“don’t tell me you aren’t.” he whined, looking down at you. “i–i can’t think straight–i can’t handle us not being together baby, i can’t handle seeing anyone touch you–”
you pulled his face towards you, crashing your lips onto his as the taste of beer hit your tongue. his hands grabbed your sides as he pressed his body closer to yours, leading you backwards and onto the bed.
“i’m–i’m so sorry for treating you so badly babygirl–” he cried into your mouth. “you mean so much to me, i can’t imagine you not in my life…” he pulled you onto the bed fully, crawling on top of you. “is this fine? i’m sorry…i can stop, we’re not thinking right–”
“chanyoung, just put your dick in me.” you slapped his shoulder lightly and ran your hand down his bicep.
“i don’t have a condom–”
“it’s fine, i’ll take a morning after.”
your palms raised to his face, one hand running through his hair as your lips danced together. he pulled away briefly, unbuckling his belt and discarding it to the floor as he began to work the zipper on his jeans. anton pulled his pants and boxers down, exposing the length of his cock.
“are you sure i can put it in baby? you’d let me?” he whimpered.
“yes–yes i’d always let you tony–” you cried, pulling down your skirt and panties–a long string of slick connecting the fabric and your pussy together.
anton didn’t want to know whether you got wet for him or the filth of a man who dared to even look in your direction; he just wanted to feel you around him.
he pressed his index and middle finger between your legs briefly, spreading your pussy lips and coating his fingers with your juices before bringing his hand to his mouth, licking it clean while maintaining eye contact with you.
you moaned in response–but before you could say something in return you felt the heat of anton’s tip pressed against your hole, earning a quiet gasp from your lips.
“you’re doing so good for me–” he panted as he pushed his cock further in. “babygirl i know you can take it, you have so many times before–just one more time for me baby…” you nodded, whimpering as he slid his full length into you. “shit–she’s tighter than i remember…”
it was all for him. you haven’t had sex with anybody since you’ve broken up with anton in hopes of him crawling back to you.
“can i move? does it hurt?”
“yes–please tony…” that was all he needed before he began to thrust deep inside you. hell–you would think anton would build up the pace over time, but no; anton needed you bad.
“mmh–i missed you so much…i missed this pretty pussy so much…tell me you missed me too baby.” he whimpered.
“i missed you so, so much tony–” you replied before he flipped you over and forced you on your hands and knees. he held your ass in the air and thrusted from behind, the sound of skin slapping echoing off the walls of the bedroom.
“i know–i know you did baby, nobody could fuck you this good–right?” he smacked your bare ass, leaving a red mark in its wake. “yeah, nobody could–only i can touch you like this.”
you buried your face into the pillow, arching your back as his dick hit your sweet spot oh-so-good. “i’m gonna cum tony–”
“yeah? you’re gonna cum for me babygirl? is that right?” he whispered, bringing his arm around you and pressing his fingers to your clit. you moaned into the pillow, scared the people downstairs might hear you. “does this feel good? you gonna cum?” he rubbed your clit faster, thrusting into you at the same rapid speed.
you cried. “yes, yesyesyes fuck, tony i’m gonna cum–”
anton let out a sharp whimper as his dick gave out on him–painting your walls white with his cum. he slowly fucked it into you, moaning loud.
“baby, i’m gonna fill you up so much...” he cried. “yeah, you’re gonna be full of my kids–my cum leakin’ out of this pussy while everyone’s tryna get a piece of you…”
you came to your release shortly after, moaning into the pillow as you squirted all over anton’s dick.
“yeah, just like that babygirl–i’m gonna show this off, gonna show everyone you’re squirting for me. i know you want that…” he whimpered.
“baby…” you cried.
“shhh, it’s okay, tony’s taking care of you…” he said softly, running his fingers through your hair, your face still pressed into the pillow.
a/n; oh to have all my plans ruined by needy anton..💔
cw: fwb situation, cursing, he’s horny as hell, baby what plot.., smut — dry humping, eating puh, p in v, no condom ( be smart ), male moaning !!!, talking a luh nasty👀
summary: leaving anton’s apartment after everything blew over with your roommate wasn’t as easy as you thought it was gonna be. the apartment was just so nice and.. has so many usable surfaces and like. yeah.
<- previous
this is how it usually started. you were hanging out in anton’s room, both of you laid in his bed and being super social by sending each other tiktoks depspite being right in front of each other. it was the perfect, most innocent, friend activity. until it wasn’t. anton’s head landed heavily on your flat shoulder,
“i wanna fuck you so badly…”
“yo, chill.”
after the incident about a week ago; after letting yourself freak out about it first, you became pretty content with the fact that you smashed your best friend. despite your perfectly rational fear that things would become awkward after, your friendship remained relatively normal. emphasis on relatively. however, the fact that things didn’t become awkward between you two meant there was absolutely no deterrent against doing it again…. and again, and again.
your roommate wondered why the hell you had overstayed at anton’s by like a lot of days... your friends wondered why you were either late or absent to all the recent gatherings. it was because anton was insatiable. like he couldn’t get up off you.
nestled between your open legs in his bed, anton moved his hips over yours, “i can’t help it. when you touch me, i’m instantly hard. it’s like muscle memory.”
“ou, don’t do that.” you sighed out, trying to ignore the heat pooling between your thighs, “i-i need to get— i have to meet my friends.”
he whined in response grinding down into you, “i know, i know. i won’t keep you long…”
“toni…” you knew and he that he was full of shit. but the featherlight feel of his lips brushing your neck pushed all the rational thoughts out of your head. “okay, okay, fine.”
with your permission, anton’s mouth was immediately on yours, kissing you all sloppy and holding your neck to keep you in place. slowly, he continued humping into you and you wrapped your legs around his waist, crossing them at the ankles.
“fuck, you’re so— you feel warm. i could cum like this.” anton whimpered.
you held onto his shoulder, “wait, i want you inside me…”
didn’t you have somewhere to be..?
already sitting up to strip his clothes, anton laughed, “don’t you have somewhere to be, though?”
you rolled your eyes as you started pulling down your leggings. “just— let’s just not ask questions right now.”
through hooded eyes, you watched as anton pushed his boxer briefs down, letting his dick spring up against his lower ab. you were expecting him to start teasing you. anything but the way he immediately leant down to press an open-mouthed kiss to your pussy.
“i could never get tired of doing this…”
you slid your fingers into his soft hair, tugging gently and sighing heavily. “anton, please.”
“hm? give me a second.” the sound of anton humming vibrated through his lips around your clit, making your eyes roll back. “i’m tryna get you wet for me.”
“i already am—” you whined desperately but anton continued with no remorse.
he flattened his tongue against your pussy, licking a long stripe upwards and your hips bucked into his mouth. “this pretty pussy tastes so good…” moaning against you, he pushed his tongue inside of you and with each twitch of your hips, your clit bumped against his nose. you were so overwhelmed with pleasure that you felt tears start to well up in your eyes. it took everything in him to pull away, but he was feeling like if he didn’t fuck you soon? he could die.
anton tapped his dick against your now puffy pussy lips a couple times before sliding in with comfortable ease. you immediately had to dig your nails into him. he should not have gotten you that close.
anton pressed a kiss just below your earlobe, “i’m gonna put it in, okay, baby?”
you nodded at him and he rubbed his tip against your sensitive clit before finally bottoming out inside of you with a quiet moan, immediately starting to roll his hips into yours with rhythmic ease.
“fuck, you’re wet… does it feel good?”
wrapping your legs around his waist, you nodded.
“yeah? it feels good? let me rub that clit, baby.” he sat upright on his knees, still fucking into you and started rubbing small circles on your bundle of nerves, making you cry out.
“anton—” you cut yourself off with a low moan.
“you feel so fucking good around me.” anton whined above you, “s-so good to me… hah.”
the sound of his hips smacking into the backs of your thighs grew louder as his thrusts be came more shallow and irregular. he was making it very clear that he was getting close.
“are you gonna cum for me, toni?” you stroked his hair and his face contorted in pure pleasure. he couldn’t answer you.
“please?” you pecked his lips and he couldn’t stop his eyes from rolling back. the tip of his dick pushing against that spongy spot inside you with each thrust had him weak. you wanted nothing more in this moment than for him to cum inside you, because you knew the noises he would make could finish you off.
anton was resilient; determined to keep going for you. he leant forwards again, shifting his weight onto his hands and expertly grinding his hips into yours. this however gave you the perfect angle to start kissing at his shoulders, the crook of his neck, his jaw, his face. he knew it was coming. or was hoping at least. anton opened his mouth slightly and again, your lips met his in a fervent kiss.
he attempted to muffle his moans against your lips but it was no use for him. he was already there. anton pulled his lips away from yours to release a string of high pitched moans and curses as his hips stuttered against you. the friction of his pelvis against your clit triggering your own orgasm.
“anton—”
“mmph.. f-fuck, i’m cumming. i’m cumming for you.” anton’s brows were furrowed in pure pleasure as he fucked his warm load into you. “fuck, baby, take my cum… just like that.”
anton’s body fell limp on top of yours. you gently dragged your nails up and down his back, laughing at the way he twitched as a result.
“toni… you sound so pretty.”
anton breathed out a shy laugh. “stop. i’m embarrassed.” he was breathless.
you let out a content sigh, allowing your eyes to dart around to the clock on your wall. yeah, no way you were making it to whatever plans you had. you were gonna have to start making up some excuse real fast because you knew this wasn’t going to be the last time this happened. nor did you want it to be.
content - edm concert setting, drinking/smoking, smut, everyone’s in college, Anton gives reader a shoulder ride
note - can you guys tell i love college student anton? if any of u guys go to raves stay safe and have funnn!!
✧₊ ⊹ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⊹ ₊✧
The harsh fluorescent lights of the concrete parking garage buzzed overhead, cars were packed bumper to bumper on every level, trunks popped open, music bleeding from portable speakers. The air was thick with the smell of exhaust, alcohol, and the distant, muffled thud of bass vibrating from the stadium a few blocks away.
“Hold still, you’re going to mess up the gems,” Yunjin scolded lightly. She pressed a final iridescent rhinestone near the corner of your eye, using the rearview mirror of Shotaro’s SUV as a makeshift vanity. Stepping back, she admired her handiwork. “Okay. You look devastating. If you don’t ruin at least one man’s life tonight, I’m revoking your rave privileges.”
She pulled out her silver digi cam, the flash blinding you for a second as she snapped a picture of your makeup. Then she squeezed in next to you, pressing her cheek against yours, and held the camera out at arm’s length. The flash went off twice—one normal, one with both of you mid-laugh because Sunoo yelled something stupid from across the trunk.
You laughed, adjusting the straps of your top. You’d gone all out tonight: a black mesh set that hugged every curve, layered under a harness. Your arms were stacked with kandi bracelets, the plastic beads clinking together as you reached for the plastic cup resting on the bumper.
“She’s not ruining anyone’s life, she’s going to be too busy trying not to pass out before the opener finishes,” Sunoo chimed in, appearing at your side. He passed a joint to Yunjin before handing you a plastic cup filled with a mix of peach soju and Yakult. His own face was dusted in silver glitter. “Pace yourself. You just took a shot and hit that twice.”
You rolled your eyes, taking a sip. The alcohol burned pleasantly down your throat, mixing with the warm, heavy buzz of the weed already settling in your limbs.
It wasn’t your first rave, but you were definitely the more casual raver of the group. While Shotaro and Sohee hit festivals almost every other weekend, you usually only tagged along here and there when you had time. Tonight was the final stop of the Illenium and Dabin tour, and it was your first time seeing either of them live. The group chat has been hyped for months.
“Are we moving or what?” Sohee yelled, bouncing on his heels near the concrete stairwell. He and Shotaro were already halfway to the exit, looking back at you three with impatient grins. “We’re going to miss Dabin’s intro!”
“We’re coming!” you shouted back, downing the rest of your drink. You tossed the cup into a nearby trash can, linking arms with Yunjin and Sunoo as you hurried to catch up.
The walk to the festival grounds was a blur of neon outfits, pulsing lasers bleeding into the night sky, and thousands of people vibrating with the same collective anticipation. The alcohol was definitely hitting you now. The edges of your vision were soft, your limbs felt light, and the heavy dubstep echoing from the main stage made your heart race.
You followed Shotaro as he navigated your group through the dense crowd. He was a seasoned raver, weaving through the sea of bodies with practiced ease, his hand firmly gripping Sohee’s backpack so they wouldn’t get separated. You kept one hand on Sunoo’s shoulder as you pushed deeper into the crowd, aiming for a spot just behind the VIP rail.
“We’re meeting a friend of mine here!” Shotaro yelled over his shoulder, his voice barely cutting through the music. “He saved us a spot!”
You finally broke through a particularly dense wall of people, stumbling slightly as the alcohol made your platform boots feel a little heavier than usual. You bumped into a solid wall of a chest, letting out a small gasp.
Large hands immediately caught your shoulders, steadying you before you could fall.
“Careful,” a deep, yet soft voice rumbled above you.
You looked up, and your breath hitched.
Standing there, towering over the rest of the crowd, was a guy who looked like he had been carved out of marble specifically to ruin your life. He was ridiculously tall, with broad shoulders showcased perfectly by a black, sleeveless muscle tank. A silver chain rested against his collarbone, catching the strobe lights. His dark hair was slightly messy, falling into his eyes in a way that looked effortlessly perfect.
Shotaro crashed into him with a massive hug, clapping him on the back. “You actually held the spot! You’re a legend.”
The guy laughed. His voice was a rich, warm rumble that you could feel in your chest even over the heavy bass. He hadn’t let go of your shoulders yet.
Shotaro pulled back and gestured to your group. “Guys, this is Anton. We play soccer together. Anton, this is Sohee, Sunoo, Yunjin, and…” Shotaro’s eyes landed on you, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “…and this is my favorite person, but don’t tell the others.”
Anton’s gaze shifted down to you. The moment his dark eyes locked onto yours, the rest of the festival seemed to fade into background noise. He looked you up and down, a slow, deliberate sweep that took in the platform boots, the mesh, the harness, and the few gems around your eyes. When his eyes finally met yours again, a slow smile spread across his face.
“Hi,” he said, his hands finally dropping from your shoulders. Up close, he smelled like expensive cologne and clean laundry, a sharp contrast to the sweat and smoke of the crowd.
“Hi,” you breathed back, suddenly hyper-aware of how much skin you were showing, and how warm your cheeks felt from the vodka.
“Okay, group photo before we lose each other!” Yunjin interrupted, pulling out her silver digi cam. She shoved it into Anton’s hands since he was the tallest. “Take one of us?”
Anton chuckled, taking the small camera. He took a step back, crouching slightly to frame you and Yunjin as she threw an arm around your waist. Right before he pressed the button, his eyes flicked up from the screen, catching yours over the top of the camera for a beat too long. The flash went off, blinding you for a second, but you could still feel the weight of his stare. He handed the camera back to Yunjin before turning his attention fully back to you.
“First time seeing Illenium?” he asked, leaning down slightly so you could hear him over the music.
“First time seeing him, yeah,” you admitted, having to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. The size difference between you was staggering. He was a wall of solid muscle, his presence completely enveloping you. “Not my first rave, but… I don’t go as often as the other guys.”
“I can tell,” Anton murmured, his eyes dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before flicking back up. He tilted his head, studying your flushed face. “You pregamed a little hard, didn’t you?”
You blinked, feeling caught. “Is it that obvious?”
“Just a little,” he chuckled, the sound low and incredibly attractive. “Stick close to me. The crowd gets rough when the headliners come on, we don’t want you getting trampled.”
You didn’t need to be told twice. As Dabin took the stage and the crowd surged forward, Anton naturally positioned himself just behind you. He didn’t touch you, but you could feel the heat radiating off his chest, a solid, protective barrier between you and the crushing weight of the thousands of people pushing from behind.
The set was incredible, but about thirty minutes in, the combination of the heavy bass, the flashing strobe lights, and the alcohol you had downed in the parking garage started to catch up with you. The air in the middle of the crowd was stiflingly hot. You swayed slightly, pressing a hand to your forehead as a wave of dizziness washed over you.
Instantly, Anton’s hands were on your waist. “Hey. You okay?”
You leaned back against his chest instinctively, closing your eyes. “Just… a little dizzy. It’s really hot.”
“Alright, come here,” Anton said smoothly. He didn’t ask Shotaro or the others. He just wrapped an arm securely around your waist and gently but firmly guided you out of the thickest part of the crowd, moving toward the slightly more open space near the back rail.
He found a spot where the air was cooler and the bodies weren’t pressed so tightly together. He turned you around to face him, his hands resting on your hips. “Better?”
“Yeah,” you exhaled, opening your eyes. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” Anton said softly. He reached into his small crossbody bag and pulled out an unopened bottle of water, twisting the cap off before handing it to you. “Drink this. Slowly.”
You took it, sipping the cool water gratefully. Anton stood in front of you, blocking you from the chaotic flow of people walking by. He reached up, using his large hand to gently fan your face, the cool breeze feeling heavenly against your flushed skin. He was so attentive, his dark eyes watching you carefully to make sure the color was returning to your cheeks.
“Thank you,” you murmured, looking up at him.
“Anytime,” he replied, his thumb brushing lightly against your waist. “You feeling sober enough to go back in, or do you want to stay back here for a bit?”
“I’m okay now,” you smiled, the dizziness fading into a pleasant, manageable buzz.
When you moved back to your group, the dynamic had shifted. Anton kept one hand resting lightly on the small of your back the entire time, instead of just standing behind you. Every time the crowd shoved forward, his grip would tighten, pulling you flush against his chest to protect you from the impact. The touch was respectful, but it sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core every single time.
Halfway through Illenium’s set, the music slowed, the heavy bass fading into a soft, melodic acoustic intro. The crowd roared in recognition as the opening chords of “Hearts on Fire” echoed through the stadium.
“You want to see better?” Anton’s voice rumbled right next to your ear, his breath hot against your neck.
You turned your head, your face inches from his. “What?”
“Get on my shoulders,” he offered, a playful glint in his eyes. “You can’t see the visuals from down here.”
Before you could protest, Anton crouched down slightly, tapping his broad shoulders. “Come on. I got you.”
You hesitated for a second, then grabbed his hands to steady yourself. You swung one leg over his shoulder, then the other, and the first thing you noticed was how wide he was. Your thighs barely fit around the span of his shoulders. Then he stood up, lifting you with effortless strength like you weighed nothing. You could feel the muscles in his shoulders and neck shift and tighten beneath your thighs as he adjusted you, his traps solid and warm under the thin fabric of his tank top.
The view was breathtaking. The entire festival grounds stretched out before you, a massive ocean of people swaying in unison under a canopy of lasers. But as incredible as the view was, all you could focus on was the feeling of Anton beneath you.
Your thighs were pressed flush against his neck, his large hands gripping the backs of your thighs to keep you steady. His fingers dug slightly into your skin, a firm, possessive grip that made your breath catch. You could feel every shift of his broad shoulders between your legs—the way they rolled when he adjusted his stance, the hard muscle flexing under your weight like it was nothing.
The beat dropped, a massive, euphoric explosion of sound and light. Confetti cannons erupted, raining colorful paper down on the crowd. You threw your hands up, completely consumed by the music and the adrenaline. Anton’s hands tightened on your thighs, his thumbs stroking the sensitive skin just below your skirt, and a sharp spike of heat coiled low in your belly.
When the song ended, he slowly lowered you back down to the ground. You slid down his chest, your body pressing flush against his for a long second before your boots hit the grass.
You were breathless as you looked up at him “Thank you.”
Anton didn’t step back. He stayed exactly where he was, so close you could feel the rise and fall of his chest. His eyes dropped to your lips again, and this time, they stayed there.
The tension between you was thick, pulling you toward him like a magnet. You wanted him to kiss you. You wanted it so badly your skin ached with it.
“Hey!” Sohee’s voice shattered the moment, and you both jumped slightly as he threw an arm around Anton’s shoulders. “We’re going to grab water before the finale. You guys want anything?”
Anton cleared his throat, taking a small step back, though his eyes never left yours. “We’re good. We’ll hold the spot.”
The rest of the night was a blur of heavy bass, blinding lights, and the suffocating tension between you and Anton. You traded kandi with him during a quiet moment, teaching him the PLUR handshake. When your fingers interlocked with his, he held on for a second too long, his thumb tracing the back of your hand. He gave you a bracelet that said RAVE HEAD, and you gave him one that said YOURS. You had made it as a joke, but when he read the beads, his eyes darkened, and he slipped it onto his wrist without a word.
By the time the final fireworks went off and the festival lights came up, you were exhausted. Your ears were ringing, your feet ached, and the adrenaline crash was hitting you hard.
The walk out of the venue was a chaotic mass of thousands of people trying to leave at once. The crisp night air felt amazing against your sweat-slicked skin, but you couldn’t stop a shiver from running down your spine.
Without a word, Anton pulled his black zip-up hoodie out of his backpack and draped it over your shoulders. It was massive on you, swallowing you completely, and it smelled exactly like him.
“Okay,” Shotaro announced as your group huddled near the rideshare pickup zone. “There’s an afterparty at this warehouse downtown. Sohee knows the DJ. We’re all going.”
You groaned internally, leaning your head against Yunjin’s shoulder. “Taro, I love you, but if I hear one more bass drop tonight, my brain is going to liquefy. I’m so tired.”
“You can’t tap out now!” Sunoo protested, though he looked sympathetically at your exhausted expression.
Anton looked down at you, his eyes assessing. He could see the fatigue pulling at your features, the way you were practically holding yourself up with Yunjin’s help.
“My hotel is three blocks from here,” Anton said quietly, addressing Shotaro but looking at you. “I’m not really feeling the afterparty either. I can take her back with me. Let her crash there, and you guys can go.”
Shotaro looked between the two of you, that same knowing smirk returning to his face. “You sure, man? We don’t want to impose.”
“It’s fine,” Anton said, his voice steady. He looked down at you, his dark eyes intense. “If she wants to.”
You pulled the oversized hoodie tighter around yourself, your heart hammering against your ribs. You weren’t drunk anymore, but you were definitely not feeling like going to the after party.
“Yeah,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to.”
Yunjin gave you a look that screamed we are talking about this tomorrow in excruciating detail, before hugging you goodbye. You waved to the rest of the group as they piled into a rideshare, leaving you and Anton standing alone on the crowded sidewalk.
“Come on,” Anton said softly, his large hand wrapping around yours. His fingers intertwined with yours perfectly, his grip warm and solid. “Let’s get out of here.”
—
The walk to his hotel was quiet, the ringing in your ears making the city sounds feel muffled. He kept you tucked close to his side, his thumb tracing slow, rhythmic circles over the back of your hand.
His hotel was upscale, the lobby quiet and dimly lit. You rode the elevator up to the fifteenth floor in silence, watching the numbers tick up.
Anton unlocked the door to his room and pushed it open, stepping aside to let you in first. The room was dark, illuminated only by the city lights filtering in through the large window.
The heavy door clicked shut behind him, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet room.
You turned around to face him, but before you could even open your mouth, Anton was there.
He didn’t hesitate. He backed you up against the door, his large hands coming up to cup your face, and crashed his mouth down onto yours.
It was everything that had been building up since the moment you locked eyes in the crowd. You gasped into his mouth, your hands flying up to grip the front of his tank top as his tongue slid past your lips, tasting you like he had been starving for it all night.
“God,” he groaned against your mouth, his hands sliding down from your face to grip your waist, pulling you flush against his massive frame. “I’ve been wanting to do that since the second I saw you.”
You breathed, tilting your head back as his lips trailed down your jaw to the sensitive skin of your neck. “Don’t stop.”
Anton let out a low, ragged sound. He grabbed the hem of his tank top, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. The sight of him made your breath hitch. He was huge. Broad, thick, and carved with heavy, defined muscle, his skin glowing in the dim light of the city.
He reached for the zipper of your skirt, his large hands making quick work of your rave outfit. The mesh, the harness, the boots—everything was discarded until you were completely bare, standing against the door.
He dropped to his knees right there in the entryway.
Your breath caught in your throat as his large hands gripped the backs of your thighs, pulling your legs slightly apart. He looked up at you, his dark eyes blown wide with lust, the city light catching the sharp angles of his face.
“Anton—” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his dark hair.
“Shh,” he murmured, his breath hot against your center. “Let me taste you.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He pressed his mouth against you, his tongue swiping in a broad stroke that made your knees buckle. You cried out, head falling back against the door. He was relentless, his large hands gripping your thighs tight enough to bruise, holding you in place as he devoured you.
“So fucking sweet,” he hummed against your slick folds, the vibration sending a jolt straight to your clit. He sucked hard, his tongue flicking with a precision that had you sobbing his name.
“Anton—please—” you babbled, fingers gripping his hair as your hips jerked forward.
He pulled away right before you tipped over the edge, leaving you whining. He stood up, massive frame towering over you, lips slick with your wetness.
Anton led you toward the bed, shedding the rest of his clothes in seconds. He didn’t lay you down. He sat back on his heels, grabbed your hips, and pulled you forward until you straddled his lap.
The size difference was staggering. Sitting on him, you felt incredibly small, his broad chest and thick thighs dwarfing you.
“Ride me,” he whispered, eyes dark and hungry.
You guided his thick, heavy length to your entrance and slowly sank down. The stretch was overwhelming. He was so big you had to stop halfway, a broken whimper tearing from your throat.
“Fuck,” Anton groaned, jaw clenched tight. His hands steadied your hips. “Take your time. You’re so tight.”
You took a shaky breath and forced yourself down the rest of the way. When you finally bottomed out, a loud, shameless moan ripped from your lips. You were completely full, the pressure making your vision blur.
Anton’s hands moved from your hips to rest flat against your lower stomach. His eyes widened.
“Look,” he commanded softly.
You opened your eyes. His large hand was pressed right over the faint, visible press of him against your lower bellythe subtle outline of how deep he was inside you.
“Hmm,” he breathed, thumb tracing the slight bulge. “You take me so well.”
You started to move, lifting and sinking at a slow, agonizing pace. The angle was incredibly deep, every downward thrust making you gasp. Anton watched with hunger, his hand staying firmly pressed against your stomach to feel every inch of himself filling you up.
After a few minutes, Anton let out a frustrated growl. He grabbed your hips and flipped you over in one fluid motion, pinning you face-down against the mattress.
Before you could process the change, he settled between your thighs, lifted your ass slightly, and drove into you from behind with a single, brutal thrust.
You screamed into the pillows. The angle was even deeper now, his broad chest pressing your back, his large hands gripping your hips like a vice.
“You feel so good,” he panted, pace turning frantic. He was relentless, hips snapping forward with bruising force, the wet slap of skin echoing loudly in the quiet room.
He reached around, his large hand sliding down your stomach to find your swollen clit. The moment his thumb pressed against it, your brain short-circuited.
“Anton—ah—wait—” Your voice cracked on a high, broken moan as he bottomed out inside you, thumb circling your clit simultaneously. “It’s too much—”
“You can take it,” he breathed against your ear, his voice thin, strained, almost whiny. “Fuck—you’re squeezing me so tight—” He let out a shaky, desperate sound against your neck. “Don’t stop.”
Your protests dissolved into loud, broken moans. He kept his pace hard and deep, each thrust dragging against oversensitive walls, pulling high, desperate sounds out of you.
“Oh my god—Anton—fuck—” You babbled, words slurring, fingers clawing the pillows. “I’m gonna—”
“Come for me,” he panted, voice breaking. His thumb pressed harder, hips stuttering as his breath came in ragged gasps. “Let me feel it. Come for me.”
You couldn’t hold back. The orgasm crashed into you—sharp, intense, ripping through you. You screamed his name, walls clamping down hard around him as your body convulsed.
The force dragged him over the edge. Anton let out a broken, wrecked cry against your shoulder, his whole body shuddering as he spilled deep inside you, hips jerking in shallow, desperate thrusts. He collapsed against your back, heavy, sweat-slicked body pinning you to the mattress, chest heaving.
Neither of you moved for a long time. Just the sound of ragged, uneven breathing filling the room, your bodies tangled together, both of you trembling.
He slowly pulled out of you, and before you could even process the emptiness, he was flipping you over onto your back. Your body was limp, boneless, and he moved you like you weighed nothing.
The sight of him above you knocked the air out of your lungs. His chest was flushed, his dark hair falling into his eyes, his lips swollen and parted. His broad shoulders blocked out the dim hotel light behind him, caging you in completely.
“Anton,” you whimpered, your thighs trembling around his waist. You were so sensitive it almost hurt. “I can’t—not yet—”
“Please,” he murmured, lowering himself until his forehead pressed against yours. Sliding his tip up and down your wet slit, and you felt him push back inside you—slow, agonizing. The stretch on your oversensitive walls made your eyes roll back, a broken moan dragging out of your throat.
“Oh—fuck—” Anton’s voice cracked the second he bottomed out, his whole body shuddering above you. His arms were trembling where they braced on either side of your head. “You feel so—god—” The words came out thin and strained, like he was barely holding himself together.
You gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. Your hips bucked up against him involuntarily, and the friction made both of you moan.
He let out a shaky exhale that sounded more like a whimper. “Ngh—I’m not gonna last—”
He started to move anyway, slow and deep, his hips rolling into yours with a deliberate rhythm that had your back arching off the mattress. Every thrust dragged against your swollen walls, punching out sounds from your chest with every roll of his hips.
Your legs wrapped around his waist on instinct, pulling him deeper. A high, broken groan vibrated against your collarbone. “Fuck—baby—don’t do that—” His hips stuttered, his composure slipping. His voice pitched up at the end, needy and wrecked.
“Feels so good,” you whined, your head pressing back into the pillows. “So deep—Anton—ah” Your words dissolved into a trembling moan as he hit a spot inside you that made your vision blur.
You clenched around him on purpose. His forehead dropped to your shoulder, a choked whine spilling out of him as his hips jerked forward. “Please—” he gasped. “I’m trying to make this good for you and you’re—”
“It’s good,” you breathed, pulling his face up to yours. His eyes were glassy, his bottom lip bitten raw. “It’s so good.”
Something in him snapped. He hooked one hand under your knee, pressing your thigh up toward your chest, and the new angle made you scream. Your free hand flew to his back, nails raking down his spine. “Anton—I can’t— too much—” A sob cut off whatever you were going to say, your body arching off the bed.
His free hand found yours, lacing your fingers together and pinning your hand beside your head. He buried his face in your neck, broken moans muffled against your skin, your name slipping out of him over and over.
“Look at me,” he breathed, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes.
You forced your eyes open. His face was inches from yours, his pupils blown wide, his jaw tight, his lashes wet. He looked completely undone.
“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Stay with me.”
“I’m gonna—” you whimpered, your walls fluttering around him. “Anton—I’m so close—”
Every time he bottomed out, a small, helpless sound punched out of his chest. His breathing was ragged, punctuated by quiet, whiny gasps every time you clenched around him.
“I’m close,” he choked out, his hips losing their rhythm. His hand squeezed yours tight. “Baby—please—”
“I’m coming—” you cried, your voice shattering into a broken moan as your body seized around him.
He came with a sound you’d never forget. A raw, wrecked cry that cracked in the middle, his body shaking as his hips pressed flush against yours and stayed there. The feeling of him pulsing inside you, the desperate way he clung to you, his broken whimpers against your neck—it dragged you over the edge with him, your second orgasm ripping through you in slow, devastating waves.
Neither of you moved for a long time after. Just the sound of ragged, uneven breathing, his body still covering yours completely. His face was pressed into the crook of your neck, and you could feel the wetness of his breath against your skin.
When it finally subsided, you were boneless. Completely spent.
Anton slowly rolled off you, pulling you flush against his side. He wrapped his strong arms around you, tucking your head under his chin. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, his hand tracing soothing circles over your bare arm.
“You’re staying the night,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and satisfaction. It wasn’t a question.
You smiled against his chest, closing your eyes as the last of the adrenaline faded away. “Yeah.”
—
The next morning, sunlight was streaming through the sheer hotel curtains when you finally woke up. Anton was still asleep, his heavy arm draped securely over your waist, his face buried in your neck.
You carefully reached for your phone on the nightstand, wincing at the brightness of the screen. Your group chat was blowing up.
Shotaro: [Voice note: 0:25]
Yunjin: ????????????????
Yunjin: HELLO????
Sohee: lol
You smiled, typing out a quick I’m alive, tell you later before tossing the phone back down. You noticed Yunjin’s silver digi cam sitting on the nightstand. She must have slipped it into your bag before you left the venue.
Curious, you turned it on and clicked through the photos from last night. There was the one of you in the parking garage, the group photo Anton took, a blurry one of the stage, and then the one Yunjin had secretly taken of you on Anton’s shoulders.
“What are you looking at?” a rough, sleep-heavy voice mumbled against your skin.
You turned the camera off, sliding back down under the covers and pressing a kiss to his jaw. “Nothing. Just pictures from yesterday.”
₪ synopsis: after years of not speaking, anton and yn unexpectedly reconnect through snapchat. what starts as a simple conversation quickly turns into talking almost every day, despite the distance and different time zones. as their bond grows stronger, yn finds herself falling for an idol who lives on the other side of the world, leaving her to wonder if some connections are worth the distance…
₪ genre: fake texts, smau, one!shot au, fluff, idol anton x non!idol reader, situationship > relationship
shybf!anton covering his face while you give him a slow handjob ໒꒱ིྀ. your small hand gliding over his big cock is enough to bring anton to the edge, just from the visual alone. he would feel so embarrassed about the faces and sounds escaping him that he’d attempt to hide them. "toniii," you softly tug at his arm that’s shielding his face. "let me see your faceee," you plead, but he persists, "mm-mm," anton murmurs, shaking his head, continuing to emit soft gasps and whines.
anton who’s always a soft and smiley guy with a long patience but a sudden switch happened because he got jealous. maybe he gets jealous with another member or someone 🙉
it was a thursday night in seoul, the kind where the air still carried the leftover chill from march even though april had rolled in. you sat cross-legged on your dorm bed, the steam from the ramyeon cup warming your face as you slurped noodles straight from the container. the tv played some random variety show in the background, but your phone was the real distraction.
you: im eating ramyeon
the reply came after a minute.
anton: thats good
simple, like always. you typed again.
you: wyd?
anton: im studying
you stared at the screen for a second, the blue light reflecting off your eyes. third-year political science at snu wasn't a joke. anton spent most of his days buried in books or in the library, prepping for discussions on international relations or whatever dense theory they threw at them that week. he was soft-spoken when he talked to you, gentle even, always answering your texts even if it was just a short line. but you knew better than to ask him to drop everything and come over every time. he always found his way back eventually, though, slipping into your routine like he belonged there.
you didn't push tonight. instead, you finished the ramyeon, tossed the cup, and scrolled through messages. sungchan's text popped up from earlier. his apartment party tonight. nothing huge, just a bunch of his friends from different majors blowing off steam mid-semester. sungchan had become your friend through anton somehow, the three of you hanging out enough times that invitations extended to you even when anton was swamped.
you didn't tell anton. he was studying, and you didn't want to pull him away or make it seem like you expected him to babysit your social life. you threw on jeans and a simple top, grabbed your jacket, and headed out. the subway ride to sungchan's place near campus was quick, the car half-empty at this hour.
sungchan's apartment was already buzzing when you arrived. music thumped low from a speaker in the living room, not too loud but enough to feel the bass. about twenty people scattered around—some on the couch arguing over a game, others in the kitchen mixing drinks from whatever bottles were on the counter. sungchan spotted you right away, waving you in with that easy grin of his.
"hey, you made it. grab a drink, yeah? everyone's chill tonight."
his friends were the usual mix: loud but friendly, the kind who pulled you into conversations without making it awkward. you danced a bit in the cleared space near the speaker, nothing crazy, just moving to the rhythm while holding a plastic cup of soju mixed with something sweet. a couple shots went down easy, warming your chest. the room felt alive in that typical college way—laughs cutting through the music, someone yelling about a recent exam fail.
you were in the middle of the small dance area, half-laughing at a story one of the girls was telling, when a hand landed on your waist from behind. not aggressive at first, but definitely trying to pull you closer. you shifted, trying to turn and see who it was, but the crowd pressed in a little and the guy didn't let go right away.
"hey, come on—" you started, voice steady but annoyed.
"that's enough."
the voice cut through clear, low and even. you knew it immediately. anton. he wasn't shouting, wasn't making a scene, but the tone left no room for argument. his face was blank when you finally turned— no smile, no soft look he usually saved for you. just a tight jaw and eyes hidden behind those thin-framed glasses he wore when he read late.
he reached out, fingers wrapping around your wrist, not rough but firm enough to guide. you let him tug you through the room toward the short hallway that led to the bathroom. people glanced but didn't say much; sungchan's parties had their moments, and everyone knew anton was the quiet type anyway. the restroom door clicked shut behind you, the music muffling to a distant hum.
the small space felt even smaller with both of you in it. a single bulb overhead cast warm light on the tiled walls. you pulled your arm back gently, heart picking up for reasons that weren't just the drinks.
"anton, wait— it's not what it looked like. that guy just came up, i was about to—"
he didn't interrupt with words at first. instead, he adjusted his glasses with one hand, pushing them up the bridge of his nose like he did when he was trying to collect his thoughts after a long study session. his other hand stayed near your arm, not holding anymore but close. the blank expression cracked just a bit— not anger exactly, but something tighter, frustrated in that quiet way he carried everything.
"i know," he said finally, voice soft but edged. "saw it from the door. still didn't like it."
you opened your mouth to explain more, but he stepped closer. the air between you shifted, heavy with the faint scent of his usual detergent mixed with the night outside. his jaw flexed once, visible even under the light stubble he sometimes forgot to shave during crunch weeks. then his hand came up, cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing near your cheekbone.
no big declaration. just the way he looked at you for a beat, like the studying and the distance and the random guy had worn through the usual gentleness for a second. he leaned in slow, giving you time, but when his lips met yours it wasn't tentative.
the kiss started firm, his mouth warm and insistent in a way that didn't match the soft-spoken guy who texted back short replies. you tasted the faint mint from whatever gum he chewed to stay awake during all-nighters. his free hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him as he backed you gently toward the sink counter. glasses fogged a little from the closeness.
you kissed back, hands sliding up to his shoulders, feeling the tension there from hours hunched over political theory texts. it deepened quick— tongues brushing, a quiet sound escaping him when you nipped at his bottom lip. his jaw moved under your fingers as he angled his head, kissing harder, like he needed to remind both of you why he came crawling back every time. one hand left your face to grip the edge of the counter beside you, steadying himself. the other stayed at your waist, thumb pressing in just enough.
"fuck..." he muttered against your mouth, pulling back half an inch to adjust his glasses again. they were crooked now, lenses slightly smudged. he looked at you, breath a little uneven, the blank mask gone and replaced with that familiar softness mixed with something hotter. his lips were flushed, hair a bit messier from your fingers.
you caught your own breath, the party noise still faint outside the door. "you were supposed to be studying."
"i was." his voice stayed low, almost a whisper. "got your last text. then sungchan mentioned you were here. couldn't focus after that."
he didn't apologize for showing up or for the tug to the bathroom. just leaned in again, slower this time, pressing another kiss to the corner of your mouth before trailing to your jaw. it wasn't rushed or dramatic—just real, the kind of moment that happened when two people orbiting each other in busy college lives finally collided. his hand slid up your back under your top, palm warm against skin, while you tugged lightly at the collar of his hoodie.
outside, someone laughed loud in the living room, a glass clinked. inside, it stayed just the two of you for a little longer, the makeout easing from that initial edge into something steadier, his gentleness creeping back in between the heavier kisses. anton wasn't the type for big scenes. he was the guy who studied late, answered texts simply, and showed up quiet when it mattered.
anton didn’t waste time. his hand was still around your wrist when he turned you around to face the sink, your hips pressing against the cool edge of the counter. the mirror in front of you fogged slightly from the warmth of the small room and your quick breaths. he stepped right behind you, chest to your back, and kept kissing you—mouth hot on the side of your neck, then moving to your jaw, then lower to the collarbone where your top had slipped a little.
his lips were firm, a little urgent, the kind of kisses that came from hours of holding back while buried in textbooks. you felt his breath against your skin, warm and uneven.
“anton… wait,” you said quietly, voice catching as his hand slid under your top. “not here. they’re right outside.”
he didn’t stop. when his mind locked onto something, he could be stubborn like that—quietly, without raising his voice or making it dramatic. he just hummed low against your neck, the sound vibrating through you.
“i know,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear. “but i saw that guy’s hand on you. didn’t like it.” his voice stayed soft, almost gentle even now, but there was an edge underneath. “just need a minute with you.”
you tried to turn your head to look at him, but he kept you facing the mirror, one hand on your waist holding you steady while the other worked the button of your jeans. the denim slid down your hips with a realistic tug—his fingers a little clumsy from the angle and the heat of the moment, but determined. cool air hit your skin as the fabric pooled around your thighs.
“anton—”
“shh,” he whispered, not mean, just focused. his hand slipped between your legs, fingers finding you already warm and slick from the drinks and the sudden closeness. he rubbed slow circles at first, gentle pressure that made your knees feel unsteady. “you’re so wet already.”
a small sound escaped you and you gripped the edge of the sink. he kept going, fingers playing, teasing the spot that made your breath hitch. then he slid one finger in, slow and careful, curling it just right. you arched slightly, back pressing into his chest. the movement made you lean more over the sink, and anton followed, leaning down with you so his body stayed flush against yours.
“fuck… you feel good,” he said under his breath, voice low and a little rougher than usual. he added a second finger, pumping steadily, the wet sound quiet but unmistakable in the small bathroom. his thumb kept rubbing outside, building it up. “been thinking about you all night instead of my readings.”
you breathed out a shaky laugh, trying to keep quiet. “you were supposed to be studying… not showing up here and doing this.”
“couldn’t focus after sungchan said you were coming,” he admitted, lips back on your neck, sucking lightly. “kept picturing you here, dancing, someone else trying to touch you.” his fingers moved faster, curling deeper. “this is mine tonight.”
your legs trembled a little and you felt the pressure building quick— the alcohol loosening everything, his steady touch doing the rest. you came with a quiet gasp, hips jerking against his hand, one palm slapping lightly on the mirror for balance. anton didn’t pull away right away. he kept his fingers inside you through it, slowing but not stopping until the waves eased.
when he finally slid them out, he brought them up to your mouth. “open,” he said softly. you did, tasting yourself on his fingers as he pushed them past your lips. his eyes met yours in the foggy mirror. “good girl. always so good for me.”
he kissed your temple, gentle now, while you caught your breath. you were sweaty, hair sticking a little to your forehead, cheeks flushed. anton’s free hand moved between you, unbuckling his belt with a metallic clink that sounded loud in the quiet space. he pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough, his cock hard and warm against your ass.
“sorry,” he whispered, voice back to that soft-spoken tone, almost apologetic even while he lined himself up. “i know it’s not the best place… but i need you right now.”
you nodded, still breathing hard. “just… be quick. someone might knock.”
he pressed in slowly, careful at first, a low groan escaping him as he sank deeper. “shit… you’re tight.” his hand gripped your hip, steadying both of you. once he was fully in, he paused, forehead resting against the back of your shoulder. “you know you can call me anytime, right? huh?”
you let out a small breathy sound as he started moving, slow thrusts at first. “yeah… i know.”
“good. because i’ll come crawling back to you every time,” he said, voice low against your ear, punctuating the words with a deeper push. “doesn’t matter how many readings i have. doesn’t matter if it’s late. i’ll be here.”
the rhythm built gradually—realistic, not perfect, the angle a little awkward over the sink but it worked. his hips snapped forward steadily, one hand sliding up your back under your top while the other stayed on your hip. the sound of skin meeting skin was muffled by your bodies pressed close.
“feels good?” he asked quietly, breath warm on your neck. “tell me.”
“yeah… fuck, anton, right there,” you answered, voice hushed. you pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts. “don’t stop.”
he didn’t. he kept going, pace picking up just enough, glasses slipping down his nose again. he adjusted them quickly with one hand without breaking rhythm. “you’re so fucking pretty like this,” he murmured. “all flushed and taking me in sungchan’s bathroom.” a small, almost shy laugh escaped him at how ridiculous it sounded, but he didn’t slow down. “never thought i’d be doing this tonight instead of highlighting articles on foreign policy.”
you smiled despite the heat, gripping the sink tighter. “you’re such a nerd… even when you’re inside me.”
“your nerd,” he corrected softly, kissing the side of your jaw again. he reached around with his free hand, fingers finding your clit and rubbing in time with his thrusts. “come on, baby. one more time. i want to feel you again.”
the second orgasm hit you harder, legs shaking as you clenched around him. anton groaned low, burying his face in your neck to muffle it. a few more thrusts and he followed, hips stuttering as he came inside you, breathing heavy against your skin.
he stayed there for a moment, both of you catching your breath, his arms loosely around you. the party noise filtered back in—someone laughing in the distance, music still playing. he pulled out carefully, grabbing some tissue from the counter to clean you up first, then himself. his movements were gentle again, the stubborn heat fading back into that quiet care.
“you okay?” he asked, voice soft as he helped pull your jeans back up, buttoning them for you. his glasses were still a little crooked, hair messy, cheeks pink.
you turned around to face him properly now, fixing his glasses for him with your fingers. “yeah. a little sweaty. you?”
“better,” he said, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “sorry if i got carried away. just… didn’t like seeing someone else touch you.”
“i know. it was nothing,” you told him, smoothing his hoodie. “but next time text me before you show up like a jealous boyfriend.”
he gave a small smile, the soft one that made his eyes crinkle a bit. “not boyfriend yet. but i can be. if you want.”
the words hung there, simple and real, no big confession under dramatic lighting. just anton, 21, third-year poli sci, buried in books most days, standing in a bathroom at his friend’s party with you after fucking you over the sink because he couldn’t stay away.
he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “want to stay longer or head out? i can walk you back. or we can go somewhere quieter if you’re not done with me yet.”
you hadn’t ended the night. the party was still going, and so were the two of you.
obsessive anton! who flips off each guy that’s been staring at you for a little too long. he makes sure you’re not looking or aware—not wanting you to be upset with him for being a bit childish. it’s not childish to him. it’s serious. no man should be looking at you the way he does. that’s only for him. just for him. no one else.
obsessive anton! who grabs ahold of your waist when in the water, “helping” you swim because it’s needed. but he knows it’s not. you don’t need help. you’ve been just fine because of his teaching weeks before. instead his large hands slide down your waist, squeezing your ass and muttering a quick ‘sorry’ but he had to grab ahold of you because you were entering the deep end.
obsessive anton! who rubs his cock against his hand because of the bikini you decided to wear. the way it hugged your perfect body, allowing him to imagine what you looked like with it off. your skin wet from the water, no makeup, and perfect. you were perfect and he needed you. so badly. he whimpered in the quietest way possible–not wanting anyone to hear. but you? maybe he was okay with that. you needed to know just how hard you made him. this was all your fault.
obsessive anton! who forcefully presses his lips against your own. don’t fight it. he won’t allow it. his large hand grabs the back of your neck, keeping you from pulling away from him. this is for all the stares you had been getting most of the day. you were taken and they would know that. you’re his. only his. he’s so in love with you and the way you taste. he becomes intoxicated by it. you were his drug.
obsessive anton! who makes you both hide and wait until the pool is empty. it’s closed. everyone has gone home but you’re stuck in this dark pool room with him and only him. he’s able to do whatever he wants to you and no one can stop him. he thinks about where he can fuck you. in the pool. on the pool floor. against the pool wall. on the chairs. against the front doors. fuck. he can’t handle any of it. he needs you so badly.
obsessive anton! who makes you pose for him so he can take picture after picture of you. “that’s my girl.” he says as he pulls you into his lap, ‘accidentally’ rubbing your pussy against his hardened cock. “smile for me.” and he almost cums. your smile is the prettiest and he loves how your teeth look. everything about you is so perfect and he needs it. he needs to be in you.
content: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD!!!, fluff, some angst sprinkled in here and there, idk what to call this trope other than idiots to lovers, mutual pining, mentions of alcohol, switches between present and past, anton <3, making out, oral sex (f! receiving), vaginal fingering, breast play to the lowest of keys, unprotected sex, missionary to look at his gorjus face, creampie (goofy ahh name for this btw), they kiss so much, there’s a sweet ending bc i couldn’t help myself
synopsis: somewhere between trying to and successfully moving on from the past, you find anton lee’s eyes across a crowded living room. how does that saying go, again? everything happens for a reason?
౨ৎ note: i legitimately started writing this fic the night before anton’s birthday and only just finished it 😭 i got stuck with the direction halfway through and then distracted myself with focus before i decided to lock tf in and now here we are. pls like and rb if u enjoyed!! <3
౨ৎ playlist: oh, what a world + golden hour — kacey musgraves, i must apologize — pinkpantheress, diamond boy (dtm) — sza, blue dream — jhené aiko, butterflies — hearts2hearts
You've seen him before.
That's the first thing you think when you make eye contact across the crowded party. The colorful strobe lights highlight his features beautifully, the dim living room backlighting them. A defined nose. A sharp jaw. Dark hair framing equally as dark eyes. Kissable lips.
It feels like you're watching a movie scene, space moving around the main character in timelapse speed. You're not sure how long you've been staring, only realizing that you're doing so when he takes a sip of his drink. You look away first, distracting yourself with whatever your friends are chatting about.
While you try to collect yourself, your mind flips through pages and pages of memories. You wrack your brain for one that involves him. Where the hell have you seen him??
The alcohol flowing through your blood somehow always goes straight to your head. It causes your brain to function at a significantly slower rate, in turn making an absolutely fool of you. Any other day, any other moment, and you would've remembered him immediately.
And then it hits you.
Senior year Chemistry. Mrs. Jung. Final Project.
"Partners are randomized. I don't want you pairing up with your friends, because that's never a good idea. It's the end of the year and I want you to leave this class with at least something you can use later on in life." She announced as she passed project guidelines around the classroom. "Whether you choose to remember Organic Chemistry equations or invite your final project partner to your future wedding is completely up to you."
Beside you, Daniela groans. "Well that's stupid."
You laughed at the furrow of her brows, mouth downturned. Honestly, you were kind of glad to not partner with Dani. As much as you loved her, she was shit at group projects. Every time you worked on one together, it was actually just you doing all the work and she would buy you food afterwards as compensation. With all the stress of other final projects and preparing for end of year exams, you couldn't mentally handle this solo.
Mrs. Jung puts the partner list on the projector, which results in a choir of complaints. "Aw come on!" "This is so unfair." "This project is gonna suck." All of which, seemed to be the general consensus.
You sort of hated Chemistry with your entire being. It didn't get along with you and vice versa. The class was probably your weakest academically, yet, you aren't freaking out as much as you should about this as your eyes scan the list for your own partner.
Anton Lee.
The tall boy sat a couple rows behind you, never doing too much to stand out but never exactly trying to blend in either. The only thing you knew about him was that he was on the swim team, and that was because you had office duty during fifth period and you needed to give him a pass once.
All this to say you're not mad about it.
"Everyone find your partner and discuss the rubric for the rest of the period." Your teacher clasps her hands together, dropping into her spinning chair. The class is out of their seats, dispersing around the room.
Before you can blink, Anton is next to you, occupying the space that Daniela once had. He wore a sheepish smile and bright eyes. You thought to yourself that there was a high probability that you would fall in love by the end of that project.
But now it's been years— four to be exact. You're months away from graduating college and this is the first time you've seen Anton Lee since your senior year Chemistry class. Even in the hustle and bustle of the party, you can tell that time has been kind to him. Who you used to know as an awkward, lanky teenage boy was now a handsome, broad-shouldered man.
You excuse yourself from your friends, heading into the kitchen to grab another drink. Your head was spinning and this was crazy. Were you supposed to go up to him? You've both acknowledged the other's existence, so it only made sense that you said hi, right?
"Hey."
The bottle of vodka in your hands nearly slips from your grip, instantly recognizing the voice coming from behind you. You spin around and suddenly you're seventeen again, sitting in Mrs. Jung's Chemistry classroom.
"Hi, I'm Anton," he introduces himself, extending his hand for you to shake. "It looks like we're partners."
"Y/N," you return the favor. "I just hope that you understand the material better than I do. If not, we're cooked."
Anton laughs, something so light and sweet and genuine, eyes crinkling. Your heart stutters in your chest. Up close, he's even prettier. He was the type of guy that you never actually talked to, but always thought was attractive from afar. Admiring him from this distance was scary. It was easy to steal glances before. You could play it safe and divert your attention before you got caught. Now you had to be careful, lest you wanted him to figure you out.
He slides into the empty seat where Daniela was sitting previously. The two of you place a rubric between you and go over the guidelines for the project. Anton taps the tip of his pencil against his chin, turning to you with a slight curve of his lips.
"Should we start brainstorming?"
His eyes hold a sparkle that you didn't think existed for guys. They always seemed so disinterested and detached from everything around them, making it difficult to form real connections with boys your age. Anton, though, says everything with his eyes in a way you wanted to one day decode.
If he can distract you this easily by asking a simple question, this project was going to be a lot harder than you thought it would be.
And it's just like it was back then, his beauty amplifying the closer you physically were to him. You make an awful attempt at not ogling him, but you can't help how your eyes have a mind of their own. His black t-shirt fits him perfectly, hugging his torso in all the right places. His cargo pants are sagging a little, despite the belt through the loops. He's grown into himself, matured in a way that commands everyone in the room to follow his movements.
"Hi." You finally force yourself to breathe out. The sound of the party around you drowns out. It feels like you're the only two people present in the less-packed kitchen, facial expressions communicating more than words themselves.
"I don't know if you remem—" He starts, scratching the back of his neck, but you interrupt him.
"Anton Lee. Why would I forget?" Your lips squeeze shut after the admission. Did you not know how to keep your mouth closed? His hand falls to his side and he grins at you, similar to that of your first introduction. That's how you know underneath this delicious looking man is the same boy you harbored affection for four years ago.
"I didn't realize that chemistry final project was so traumatizing for you. I mean I know you hated the subject and all, but…" He trails off teasingly. Your cheeks warm up, as do the tips of your ears. How did he even recall such a minor detail about you?
"That's not what I meant," you roll your eyes and poke his shoulder playfully, carefully. "We spent like almost every other day of the last couple months of our senior year together. Of course, I'd remember you."
You hope and pray that your explanation is a logical one, because while it is the truth, it wasn't the whole of it. There was a section carved out in the back of your mind reserved just for him, a photo book of moments shared during that project. After a while, it locked itself up and buried the key, hidden but never exactly forgotten— just… there. Dormant. Waiting to be resurfaced and shown to the light of day.
"And here we are, seniors again. Isn't that funny? We've come full circle." He points out, hands stuffing into the front pockets of his pants. You watch with thinly veiled self control as he swallows, Adam's Apple bobbing. You'd always struggled to hide what you were truly thinking and feeling around him, and you were sure the alcohol in your system made that even more difficult.
A girl walks into the kitchen thereafter, long dark hair and long shiny legs on display— resembling a real life Barbie doll. (Or Raquel, you guess, since she wasn't blonde.) She saunters over to Anton, a glossy smile painted on her lips.
"Hey, Anton," she simpers, completely ignoring your presence. "I was looking for you all night."
"I've been standing in the same spot this whole time until now?" He raises an eyebrow with a laugh.
"Oh," she squeaks, trying to recover herself. "Are you busy?"
You make another drink to busy yourself from eavesdropping. However, you fail and give into your instincts anyways, allowing the nosiness to kick in. Right when you look over at the pair, you see that Anton's already looking at you. Heat rises to your cheeks, having been caught, but he just smiles, knowingly.
"Yeah, actually, I am," he says, stepping around her, closer to you. "Where were we? Something about us coming full circle?"
"Maybe it's fate."
The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. Your heart thuds painfully in your chest, pulse pounding in your ears. It was a confession and an invitation all at once. You remember your high school graduation, hearing the announcer call his name. You watched with an ugly and bittersweet feeling burrowing into your skin as he crossed the stage with his diploma, smiling for the cameras. The bright lights caught his eyes and you had to will yourself to forget that specific shade of brown— to forget the sparkle that pulled you in from the beginning.
After this party, you may never see each other again. You might go your separate ways, never bumping into the other on campus just as you had these past four years. You'll graduate (once more) and Anton Lee will be a ghost of the past (once more… x2). Perhaps he's destined to be that momentary crush from high school.
Unless…
"I think it is."
You're seventeen. Again.
It was a late Thursday afternoon. Anton had just finished swim practice and made his way over to your place so you could work on your project. As time had passed, you found yourself growing fonder and fonder of the tall boy.
He was attentive in the right ways, listening to your every word and sometimes even hanging onto them like they held the answers to the universe. (At least, that's what you told yourself, anyway.) He didn't laugh at you for your genuine inability to understand chemistry, in fact, he tried his best to help you and put in 110% effort. He was smart, and funny, and thoughtful. Insightful, intentional, intelligent in a way that never made you feel small. And god, was he the prettiest thing you had ever laid eyes upon.
You made an attempt at pretending like it was normal to notice all of these things about someone so quickly. Lied to yourself about how perfectly ordinary it was to think about him more often than not. It was typical to find him visually appealing, because other girls at school did, too.
When you opened the door to let him in, it felt like your ribs had caved in. "Hey, Tonie—” Your breath caught in your throat, forcing you to blink comically hard.
His hair fell into warm waves brushing his eyelashes, damp from a post-practice shower. He was in a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants, a white Calvin Klein waistband peeking from above. His backpack was slung over his shoulders, a duffle bag slipping off of one side.
You were enamored by him.
Between playing a game of make believe with yourself and floundering to push it all away, you're not sure when the subtle admiration shifted into the deepest of desires. It very well could have been that very first interaction in your Chemistry class, the unfamiliar and spellbinding glimmer in his eyes. Or it could've been right at this point in time, standing in your doorway.
Whenever it was, it scared you half to death.
Anton sprawled himself across your bed, comfortable enough to do so. Your laptops and notes were scattered in the middle of you two. He's close enough that your knee grazes his leg. You swiftly glance away when he flops around a bit, his shirt lifting to show a sliver of skin. This was becoming impossible to hold inside. You were starting to wish none of this ever happened, that you minded your own business instead of befriending him. It was beginning to hurt you physically, because you couldn't contain it anymore.
"Holy shit, I think I finally figured it out!"
He sits up, tapping his pen against the paper knowingly. You had both been stuck on a problem from your homework, pausing the project for a little while. Your eyes trickle over to him, having been afraid of betraying your withering composure.
"I'm actually an academic weapon, wow." He breathes, proud of himself for finding the solution. His now slightly drier hair unblocks that sparkle in his chocolate irises. They crinkle at the sides, pulled by the magnetism of his smile. Its radiance nearly blinds you.
It's then, that you decide you've entirely shattered your flawlessly curated lie that anything about this was normal. That this feeling blooming in your chest was normal. That falling for someone this carelessly was normal.
And that's when you also choose to pull back before it gets worse.
Before he maintains every nook and cranny in your mind, flooding your every waking thought. Before he follows you into your safe space, seeing him in dreams that feel too far away to be yours. Before you ruin one of the best friendships you've ever made.
Ironically, it happened anyway.
Every step you took in the opposite direction created a slow, but growing rift between you. Anton never questioned why you distanced yourself from him, if he ever noticed. There was never a conversation about how this once solid friendship was now the hollow shell of a group project. Both of you just let it take its course. You got through the project and even aced your presentation. By the time graduation had rolled around, the two of you hardly spoke anymore. That following summer, there wasn't even a sliver of communication left.
You really hoped this was a second chance.
"Y/N?"
The call of your name slices through the memories, but you recognize a past version of the two of you when its softness reaches your ears.
"Sorry, I—"
"Wanna talk about it?" He inquires, casually taking a sip of his drink. You say fuck it, and throw caution into the wind. This had to be a second chance.
"…Yeah."
Anton links his pinkie with yours, guiding you through the party. He leads you upstairs, into the main bedroom with the balcony. You both lean against the railing, him facing outwards. He takes another sip of his drink.
"So do I finally get an answer?" He exhales through his nose, nipping at the inside of his lower lip.
"What do you mean?" You ask stupidly. You know exactly what he means.
"I never said anything, never pointed it out. I never asked what I did or what was happening. I never acknowledged it. But I was always wondering, Y/N," he admits, keeping his focus trained on the glistening street ahead. "Every time I felt less of you near me, I wanted to know what caused it. I didn't want to pressure you or make you uncomfortable, so it just became easier to continue to not acknowledge it. And by not acknowledging it, I could hold onto the false idea that it wasn't slipping from my fingers."
Your stomach drops. Better yet, it was equivalent to stabbing yourself and twisting into the wound. You did this. This was all your fault.
"I'm so sorry, Anton," you cover your face, ashamed of all of this unnecessary suffering. "I thought that pulling away was protecting both of us. If I stepped back and put some space between us, then I'd get over it and everything would be fine. But then the space just kept getting bigger and it was too late to bring us closer. I just didn't know how to look at you without feeling my chest tighten and my heart beat against my ribs and I—"
"You what?" His body is squared to you now, standing upright.
Your eyes widen when the weight of what you had just said settles in. Oh shit. You hadn't meant to spill the beans just like that. It was something you wanted to build up to, not right off the bat. You wanted to jump off the balcony.
"I— um— well," you fumble, but you don't have an explanation for this one.
"You liked me?" He interjects, head tilted slightly. The sight invokes that familiar ache in your chest. There really was no point in hiding it anymore, so you dust off the key.
"I was in love with you, Anton," the words break free after given the green light. "I don't know how or why, but one day you suddenly decided to take over my mind and I got tired of fighting it. But I didn't want to lose you either, so I did what I thought was best and it all fell apart in front of me before I could even do anything to fix it."
"Why did you think you needed to push me away?" His features soften, he takes a step closer.
"I didn't know— I thought that you probably didn't feel the same." You look away. Rejection loomed over you, constantly afraid of being turned away.
Your skin tingles when his fingers take your jaw gently, turning you towards him. He searches your face for any indication that you're messing with him. He doesn't seem to find anything.
"You are everything I had ever wanted and more, Y/N," he confesses, hearts in his eyes as he does it. "All I have thought about these past few years is you. I thought about what you were up to, what life would be like if you were a part of it, if you still thought about me. I could care less about random girls or partying every weekend. I don't care about graduating with a computer science degree. I don't care about running in circles, chasing myself like a damn dog. I don't even fucking care about chemistry! I only liked it when I was with you."
You feel like you can breathe again.
The first thing you smell is his cologne. It fits him; expensive, warm, a little sweet. The nighttime breeze blows it into your direction. His hair, longer in a way that curls around the nape of his neck now, flows along with it. The tension between you was undeniable, filling the air surrounding you.
"I only like it when I'm with you, too."
Everything you had bottled up and sealed away for years pours out of you. It reveals itself in the way you pull him into you by the collar of his t-shirt, pressing your lips together in a long-awaited union. He smiles against your mouth and laughs breathlessly, taken aback by your sudden boldness. To be fair, you weren't expecting to do that either.
The feeling of Anton kissing you is somehow all that you dreamed it would be, as well as nothing like you imagined. That could've been because you suppressed the thought for an amount of time that felt criminal in hindsight. The real thing is so much better. He ensures that you feel every emotion he can possibly release, fingers losing themselves in your hair.
You're well aware that if anybody from down below looked up, they'd see the two of you. Unfortunately for them, you were too wrapped up in the love radiating off of Anton. It was entirely too easy to melt into him, as if this was something that happened on a daily basis, and it's crazy how quickly those emotions that you pushed down so long ago resurface even fiercer.
"God, I wish I could just fucking drop this stupid class," you groaned, forehead falling onto the table at the café you were at.
Anton laughed at your dramatics, sat across from you in the booth. He had his textbook open to the chapter you needed for your project, laptop in the middle. You hadn't been there long, probably only an hour tops, but you already felt the life being sucked out of you. Chemistry really had you going through the gulag on the regular.
"Okay, but if you dropped it, we wouldn't have a class together anymore. And you'd be losing out on the greatest chem project partner ever." He bites the end of his pen, waving over a server.
You didn't respond to him, instead choosing to take his distraction as an opportunity to stare at his face for a moment. Your head flipped onto its side, cheek smushed against the surface beneath you. It was devastating, honestly. It's devastating that someone could just wake up and look like that.
His smile as the server walks off is a sight you had a hard time getting used to. Getting to witness such a genuine and beautiful expression made your stomach feel weird. Sometimes you wondered if there was a random illness that one might only get around Anton Lee.
But as he said, "I ordered us some drinks as a pick me up. I hope that's okay, I got your favorite," a mysterious illness sounded less like a possibility and more like wishful thinking.
Anton's lips curling into that familiar smile is what triggers the memory, your fingers bunching the front of his shirt tighter. It's almost like instinct, a reaction to ensure that this is still very real and actually happening. He's right in front of you, and he's finally all yours.
His thumbs brush your cheeks and his tongue dances along your lower lip, a question of permission. You know very well what's to come if you grant it, and the idea both excites and terrifies you simultaneously. There were two ways this could go; you could both be absolutely enthralled by the other and wish to be tangled in a knot of limbs for the rest of your lives, or all of these years of wanting and waiting could have been in vain and completely wasted.
And because you've made it this far, you take the risk.
His tongue explores your mouth like it's trying to memorize the space, stepping closer to you than what you thought was physically possible. You feel as if you just discovered the gates of Heaven, a small whine forcing its way from the back of your throat. The sound has Anton grazing his nails along your scalp, a lapse in self restraint.
He pulls away quickly, chest heaving up and down in that breathless fashion. His eyes stay closed as he gathers himself, licking his lips. When they open, his features soften.
"I want you, Y/N. I want you so bad," he says, pure and unadulterated desire swirling around in his irises. "But, I don't want you to think that I said all of those things just to get into your pants. If you don't want to do anything, we really don't have to. It's totally fine I—"
"Anton," you smile, flattening a palm over where his heart was. "I know you didn't. I know you wouldn't, I promise. I want you just as bad."
"Really?" He asks, hopeful.
You can't help but laugh at how cute he is, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Yes, really. In fact, it's paining me that your hands aren't all over me right now."
The corner of his mouth curls into a smug grin. It takes every ounce of strength you possess to keep from jumping his bones right here and now on this balcony. He seems to read your mind based off your body language alone, leaving a slow, deep kiss to your lips before dragging you into the bedroom.
He trails more down the column of your throat, caging you against the bed once it hits your knees. One of his hands hooks your leg around his waist, the other sneaking beneath your skirt to tap two knowing fingers on your most sensitive area through the warmth of your underwear. The miniscule friction forces your back off the bed in an arch, gasping in surprise.
Anton glances down at where his hand disappears under the denim of your miniskirt, then up at you with eyes that mirror the night sky. "Can I…?"
You furrow your brows when he pauses. "Can you what?"
"Can I… eat you out?" He asks sheepishly. The flush of his cheeks could be because of a variety of things, but at the moment, you're pretty sure it's because of you. The thought has you instinctively clenching around nothing. His gaze flickers downward once more when he feels the gentle pulse. "Fuck, Y/N, you're actually gonna be the death of me."
"I made us wait this long," you lean closer to him. "I think we both deserve it, don't you agree?"
He bites his lower lip and then kisses you hungrily, as if committing you to memory. His hands make quick work of your clothing, sliding your skirt and panties down your legs. He tosses them somewhere in the room behind him, along with your top and bra. Once completely bare for him, Anton takes a second to appreciate you.
"You're so gorgeous," he breathes. "Like I can't believe that you're real and you're really here."
You smile at that, pecking the tip of his nose softly. "I'm really here, Tonie. I'm not going anywhere."
"Good. Now, where was I?" Anton grabs the back of his collar and pulls his t-shirt over his head, losing it in the pile of your own clothes. He resumes his assault on your neck, which you're sure will have to be heavily covered up tomorrow, and lets his hand return to your drooling pussy. His middle and index fingers collect your slick, smearing it around messily. The action has you moaning softly. "You're so wet already, baby. Is this all for me?"
"Mhm," is all you can manage to get out, tugging at his hair lightly.
He kisses your clit gently, ensuring that he maintains eye contact as he does so. "I dunno, that doesn't sound too convincing."
When he repeats his movements, this time circling your entrance with the pad of his finger, your face contorts into one of pleasure. The stimulation is too much but not enough all at once. And he has the audacity to do it again just to coax a reaction out of you.
"Fuck, yes," your bottom lip trembles. "Only for you, Anton."
You feel rather than see the smile he gives in response, fully diving into your heat. His tongue flattens against your cunt and licks up into the hood of your clit. Your lower half starts to squirm beneath him, hips bucking up into his mouth to chase more. He presses his forearm onto the plane of your stomach, holding you still.
He pushes the same two fingers inside of you, slowly and agonizingly pumping them in and out as his mouth suckles your sensitive bundle of nerves. The combined sensations have your toes curling and that coil in your belly twisting. You don't warn him of your incoming orgasm, blindsided by the quickness of its arrival yourself. It crashes into you almost violently, a moan that almost sounds like a sob breaking through your chest.
"You look so beautiful right now," Anton mumbles into your skin, continuing to finger you through the climax of your release. "It's like I just witnessed the painting of the Mona Lisa, or something."
Despite the arousal still coursing through your bloodstream, you can't help but laugh a little breathlessly at his words. Between your legs, peppering kisses along the insides of your thighs, Anton stares at you fondly. "I don't mind the view I have myself."
He hovers over you to lock lips with yours, sweet and hypnotizing. You reach down to fumble with the button of his cargo pants, kicking them off his legs with your feet to not part from his kiss. It isn't long before he's just as bare as you, lining up with your pussy. He pulls back and swallows thickly.
"I don't have—"
"It's okay," you assure him, kissing him gently, tenderly. "I trust you, Tonie. Always have, always will."
He groans at that, leaning down to kiss you like you're his everything. He kisses you like you personally placed the stars in the sky. He kisses you like your lips gave him life itself. And when he finally presses into you, it's like clasping together the chain-links of a bracelet. You feel complete, as if you had been missing the fill of Anton this entire time.
Both of you still for a second, adjusting to the weight of him inside of you. It's strangely intimate, the bridge of his nose brushing your own while his cock remains burrowed to the hilt. Your walls squeeze around him, each twitch of his dick sending a jolt of static up along your spine.
"You're so tight," he almost whispers. "That all for me, too?"
You open your mouth to ask 'When did you get so confident', but he chooses that exact moment to move. The brunt of his thrust knocks the question out of your head, instead bringing out a melodic moan. The angle at which he slides himself in and out of you hits all of the right spots deliciously. Another, honestly quite embarrassing, moan escapes you when his pace quickens.
"You didn't answer me, baby," Anton pants, nudging his face into the nook where your neck meets your shoulder. "Are you nice and snug just for me?"
"God," your voice cracks, nails scratching down his back as he punches into that sweet crook of your pussy. "Yes, Tonie— fuck, it feels so so good."
Anton nips at your collarbone, fingers snaking between your bodies to rub diligent circles into your already sensitive clit. The way he has you falling apart under his touch, turning into putty in his hold, is enough to make him lose all sense of self control. He's kept a strong restraint up until this point, never once acting on the urge to kiss you stupid back when you were oblivious high schoolers. Years have passed, too many in fact, and now he finally gets to show you just what you mean to him— just how much the thought of you alone was enough to drive him insane.
He pushes one of your knees to your chest, hips snapping into yours just a bit more relentlessly. The force shifts your body a little further up the bed, scraping your nails up to his scalp. His mouth attaches to a perked nipple, tongue swirling around in a motion that mirrors his fingers down below. The multiple stimulations begin to draw out a second orgasm. Anton twitches deep inside of you, a tell tale sign that he's not far behind.
"Think I'm gonna—" He interrupts himself with an airy moan. "Fuck, I think I might cum soon."
"Want you to finish with me, baby," you whine, desperation dripping off of each word. "Need you to fill me up."
"You make me a weak man, Y/N…" Anton chuckles despite himself, connecting your lips as his thrusts become shallower.
Another unconscious clamp of your walls around his cock is all that it takes for him to crumble. A breathy moan caresses your ears as he spills into you, fucking his release inside your pussy. That's what triggers your own tip over the edge. Your head feels like static, white noise surrounding you. It's as if you're on another plane, an out of body experience while you come down from your peak.
Both of you stay like that for a minute, sweaty skin sticking to the other as your breaths intertwine in the air between you. Your chest rises and falls in rapid succession, meeting his in the middle. Eyelashes flutter against your cheeks, keeping your eyes closed to process the entirety of tonight.
You're reminded of that moment you made eye contact downstairs, time stopping yet somehow simultaneously moving around you. That seemed to be a recurring thing with Anton. Every moment spent with him felt like no one else existed, even if you were in a living room that was packed with intoxicated party goers or a science lab full of your obnoxious classmates. He always had that effect on you. He had it back then, and it seems like he has it on you now, too.
You squirm a little beneath his weight and he buries his face deep into the dip of your collarbone. "Wait, I don't— don't wanna move."
Instinctively, your fingers card through his hair. As much as you'd love to stay here all night with him, this bedroom unfortunately belonged to someone else, and the two of you would definitely need to leave soon. But you don't worry about that right now. Instead, you let Anton cuddle into you and you savor the intimacy of it all. Setting aside the fact that you were naked and he was quite literally inside of you, this was the kind of shit you wished for in high school. You wanted him to look at you like you were the sun and the moon. You wanted him to hold you like living depended on it. You wanted to be his, in every single way possible.
That ache that you couldn't bear in the past, the one that ate away at your heart, petrified you to no end when you were young and naive and didn't know what it meant. The grown, matured version of you finally understands it for what it truly is— love in its strongest, uncontainable form.
"What?" Anton laughs, propping himself up on his elbows as he brings himself to pull out. You blink at him, not even realizing that you had been staring at him.
"Sorry," you apologize sheepishly. "I was just thinking."
"About?" The expression he gives you is uncharacteristically cute given your current situation.
"You," you admit, pursing your lips. "Regretting how much of an idiot I was during that fuckass project. Thanking every higher being that exists that I'm no longer that same idiot."
He smiles something bright and blinding, crescent-eyed and almost all thirty-two pearly whites. Then he's kissing you for the nth time of the night, just as he has every other time— tender and full of emotion. He peppers them all over your face, ensuring that no inch is left untouched by his lips.
"I'm genuinely so fucking in love with you, Y/N," Anton says, nothing but sincerity in his tone. "If I had to wait another four years for you, I'd do it in a heartbeat. You'll always be worth it to me."
"I'm in love with you, too," you can't help the way your eyes become misty. "And I never want to forget this feeling again."
"I promise you, you'll never have to. Just like you said earlier, I'm not going anywhere. You're never getting rid of me." He nuzzles his nose with yours, leaving as minimal space as physically possible between the two of you.
You know that eventually time will continue, and you'll have to burst this emotional bubble. You'll have to have a long, meaningful conversation about what you really want and where this will go. But all of that is an afterthought for now. The most important thing is being present in this special, personal moment, where you're both too absorbed in the other to let go. So you giggle, kissing his cheek.
