content — fluff, attempt humor, established relationship, boyfriend anton, reader teasing anton, anton being soft, period comfort, protective anton, mild sexual humor, suggestive jokes, marriage mention, MDNI
note — Heavy on the Attempt humor ok? im still trying to get the hang of Smau´s
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡ please consider liking, commenting, or reblogging!
a/n... i feel like we all saw this coming... anton has been my recent obsession ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ ). i need to spread the word. I LOVE ANTON. I AM OBSESSED WITH ANTON. i added a little insert for daisy because she's been having a terrible day @flowerwonu (so i will be feeding into the delusions) i love you so much i hope your day only gets better from here! i hope you guys don't mind me writing for other groups <3 hope you enjoyed!! and let me know what you think (ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³
the house was silent, enveloped by that unique calm that early morning brings. you stirred in bed, reaching out to his side… empty. you frowned, half asleep, before rising quietly. the dim light escaping from under the study door guided you. you walked barefoot, shuffling a bit until you carefully opened it.
and there he was, in a gray sweatshirt slung over one shoulder, disheveled and with his eyes fixed on the screen of the program where he was composing. his leg was moving rhythmically, his brow slightly furrowed, but his expression was changing with each note he was trying out. he looked so focused that you almost felt like interrupting him.
until he turned around.
his gaze softened as soon as he saw you, and he smiled thinly.
“i couldn't sleep,” he mumbled, taking off one of his headphones.
you didn't say anything. you just walked over to him and, without asking permission-because you didn't need to anymore-you sat sideways on his lap, hugging him by the neck.
he let out a little hoarse laugh, tired but happy.
“my night girl,” he whispered against your hair, as his arms wrapped around your waist. his nose brushed your cheek and left a slow, soft kiss.
“you've been here for hours,” you murmured softly, playing with the hem of his sleeve. “i missed you in bed…”
“i missed you too,” he replied. “i just wanted to finish this part…but with you here already, i think i have everything i need.”
another kiss. this time closer to the corner of your lips. then another on your forehead. His hand moved up and down your back, caressing you so calmly that sleep almost returned.
“will you fall asleep with me here for a little while?” you asked, leaning your head on his shoulder.
“no,” he said softly, and just as you were about to answer, he added with a little smile, ”i'll sleep with you…but in bed. come on.”
and he carried you. just like that, as if you weighed nothing, as if it wasn't already dawn, as if the world could wait.
he carried you silently into the bedroom. but instead of leaving you on the bed, he sat you on top of him again, now on his legs, on the edge of the mattress. his hands stayed on your waist, firm, and his eyes roamed over you as if he was seeing you for the first time that night.
“do you know how hard it's to concentrate when i know you're just a few steps away from me… in your pajamas… in our bed?” he whispered, in that low, almost husky voice that escaped him as desire began to mix with affection.
you let out a nervous giggle, and he caught it with a kiss.
slow. deep. the kind that steals your breath, that starts soft and gets more desperate as the bodies get closer.
his hand moved, slowly, up your back, slipping under the fabric of your pajamas while the other lingered on your cheek, guiding the kiss as if he didn't want it to escape.
your breathing was already different. faster. more irregular. and he noticed. he always noticed.
“i love you,” he murmured against your lips. “and there isn't a night that goes by that i don't want to hold you like this… close. mine.”
he slid your panties to one side and went down to kiss your neck, with the patience of one who wants to savor every part. you clung to his shoulders, feeling the atmosphere becoming charged with something electric and warm. his sighs, his fingers that marked every centimeter they touched… and the world became just that: him, you, and the desire beating like a secret between your skins.
his lips kept moving down, leaving a trail of lazy kisses on your collarbone while his hands kept caressing your waist with a restrained need.
your heart was beating so loudly you was sure he could hear it.
“i need you close,” he whispered in a tone so low i shivered. ”you don't know how much…”
with an ease that only he had, he lay back taking you with him, trapping you in his arms as if he didn't plan to let you go. your body fit against his so naturally it hurt from how perfect it felt.
his hands, bolder now, crept over your breasts, caressing the bare, sensitive skin of them, pinching your sensitive nipples slowly, savoring every reaction he wrung from you. You moaned low, almost unwillingly, and you felt him smile against your skin.
“like this… stay like this,” he murmured, his voice a rough sigh, as his hand moved down your stomach, making you shiver until he lost himself in your wet heat, with his other hand, pulling you gently to deepen the kiss that was now anything but innocent.
his body, warm, strong, enveloped you completely, and between kiss and caress, he was guiding you, taking you to the edge of vertigo. your fingers clung to his shirt, tugging at it, wanting more. needing more.
his long fingers traced a back and forth over your wet panties, torturously delicious and slowly, you lifted your hips, awash in pleasure, he was making you lose your patience a little, as if he understood your pleas, which you were unable to formulate because of the condition you were in, he pushed aside your panties, focusing on circling over your sensitive clit and occasionally moving down and playing with his fingertips at your very wet entrance.
anton looked down at you, his eyes dark and dilated, and stroked your cheek as if it were something sacred.
“you don't know what you make me feel…” he said, panting slightly as he brushed his forehead against mine. ”you're mine…all mine.”
and then, his lips found yours again, and tangled between sheets, hungry kisses and desperate whispers, letting the night envelop them completely.
summary: y/n's heart has been broken one too many times, and being dumped over her unruly dog max was the last straw. now determined to care for max on her own, how long can this hopeless romantic resist falling for her mysterious yet compassionate neighbor anton especially when he's so good with dogs.
the rain had finally given up after three straight days of turning quezon city into a giant puddle. sidewalks glistened like they’d been polished, air heavy with petrichor and the faint charcoal smoke from someone’s roadside inihaw. you clipped max’s harness with practiced annoyance, he’d already eaten the corner of your favorite throw pillow while you were showering and headed out.
max, golden retriever extraordinaire, trotted ahead like he owned the whole barangay. tail helicopter blades, ears flapping, zero concept of “heel.” your ex’s parting words still echoed sometimes. “he’s too much, y/n. you’re both too much.” you’d stared at the half-empty closet, then at max sprawled across the bed like he belonged there more than anyone ever had. “then leave,” you’d said. he did. max stayed.
two months of single life later, you were still choosing the dog every single day.
the courtyard of your mid-rise condo was quiet tonight, only the drip from aircon units and the distant rumble of edsa traffic. max zeroed in on a suspicious leaf when he suddenly perked ears straight up, body language screaming new friend alert and yanked you toward the wooden bench near the fountain.
someone was already sitting there.
tall. dark oversized hoodie, hood up, earbuds in, legs stretched long. he radiated that rare, unbothered stillness like the universe could be on fire and he’d still just exist quietly. max, never one to read social cues, let out a single delighted woof and launched.
“max, no!” you hauled back, cheeks burning. “sorry, he’s super friendly. too friendly.”
the guy tugged one earbud free. looked up. his eyes were dark and kind, the outer corners crinkling the second a tiny smile appeared.
“it’s cool,” he said, voice low and soft like late-night radio. “i like dogs.”
max was already glued to him. butt wiggling so violently the leash vibrated in your hand. the guy reached down immediately confident but gentle and found the exact ear-scratch spot that turned max into a puddle of happy sighs.
“he’s massive,” the guy murmured. “golden?”
“yep. max. he’s… a full-time job.”
“he’s perfect.” another slow scratch. max flopped onto his back like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact moment. paws up, tongue lolling, shameless.
you stood there awkwardly holding the leash while this stranger gave your dog VIP treatment. up close he was stupidly pretty sharp jaw, long lashes, dark hair falling into sleepy eyes. the kind of face that made you forget how to blink for a second.
“anton,” he said after a beat, glancing up at you. “4b.”
“y/n. 3c.” you shifted weight. “sorry again. he gets excited around new humans.”
“don’t apologize.” anton’s fingers kept moving in lazy circles through golden fur. “i’ve been missing this. my family’s back in jersey. my old dog choco stayed with them when i moved here for the studio job.”
you nodded. most guys either pretended max didn’t exist or made that tight polite smile that said they were counting the seconds until they could escape. this one was half-kneeling now, giving full belly rubs like it was his civic duty.
max rolled over, nudged anton’s wrist for round two.
“you walk him every night?” anton asked.
“pretty much. otherwise he starts redecorating the apartment. creatively.”
anton laughed, quiet, warm, surprised. “smart. keeps you busy.”
“keeps me broke,” you muttered. “new leashes, new shoes, new sanity monthly subscription.”
he stood up slowly. tall taller than you’d clocked while he was sitting. max immediately leaned his whole weight against anton’s leg like he’d officially been adopted.
“mind if i tag along sometime?” anton asked, rubbing his nape, ears going faintly pink under the courtyard lamp. “courtyard’s nice at night but… kinda lonely. plus.” he nodded at max. “dog withdrawal is real.”
you blinked. “you want to voluntarily walk this chaos gremlin?”
“yeah.” small, shy smile. “if it’s okay.”
something tiny and hopeful flickered in your chest. you stomped it flat immediately. nope. no more. you’d promised yourself after the last heartbreak. max only. no boys. no butterflies. no nothing.
but max was staring up at you with those liquid brown eyes, tail thumping anton’s calf like morse code for pleasepleaseplease.
“…fine,” you said at last. “tomorrow. same time. but if he chews your shoelaces, that’s on you.”
anton’s whole face softened. “deal.”
the next night he was already waiting by the gate same hoodie, but now sporting a little black treat pouch clipped to his waistband like he’d come prepared for battle. max lost every ounce of chill and nearly dislocated your shoulder getting to him.
“brought bribes,” anton said, shaking the pouch. “chicken & rice flavor. vet-approved for sensitive tummies.”
you raised an eyebrow. “you googled his breed’s dietary needs?”
“…maybe.” he looked mildly embarrassed. “i like being prepared.”
you snorted, but your chest felt weirdly warm.
and just like that, the walks became a thing.
every night, 8 p.m. sharp. anton appeared. sometimes with a new rope toy still in plastic. sometimes with his portable speaker playing chill lo-fi he’d produced himself. sometimes just his quiet company and those long-fingered hands that knew exactly how to calm a hyper golden retriever mid-zoomies.
you talked about stupid stuff at first.
his late-night producing sessions in 4b (neighbors never complained because he kept it quiet after 11). your endless battle with freelance deadlines and max’s war on socks. why max despised the vacuum cleaner (it was obviously possessed). how anton once spilled an entire tray of pearl milk tea all over himself during a part-time job in high school.
he never asked about the empty space on your ring finger or why your laugh sometimes cracked when a couple walked by holding hands and matching dog leashes. he just… stayed. matched your pace. let max zigzag between you like living jump rope.
one stormy night you almost bailed.
then your phone lit up.
anton: still down? got the big umbrella. fits three if max behaves.
you met him in the lobby. massive black golf umbrella. when you stepped under it your shoulder brushed his hoodie sleeve. max shook like a wet mop right beside both of you, showering you in droplets.
“perfect,” you groaned, wiping your face. “we’re all soup now.”
“still worth it,” anton said quietly. his eyes were on you, not the rain. “you look cute even when you’re grumbling.”
your heart slammed once, hard. you looked down at max instead. “traitor,” you muttered to the dog.
weeks folded into a month. max started planting himself by the door at 7:55 p.m. every evening, whining like the world was ending until you harnessed him. you caught yourself smiling at nothing remembering the low way anton laughed when max tried to catch raindrops, or how his pinky brushed yours when you both reached for the same treat at the same time.
one sticky, jasmine-scented evening after the longest loop yet, max finally flopped onto the courtyard grass like he’d run a marathon. tongue out, sides heaving happily. you and anton sank onto the bench. thighs touching now. neither of you moved away.
after a comfortable silence, anton spoke, voice barely above the crickets.
“i used to think i sucked at this. people. talking. all of it. too quiet. too… inside my own head.”
you glanced sideways. “you’re pretty good with max.”
“max is safe.” fond smile. “dogs don’t care if you’re awkward. they just want you present.”
he turned to face you properly then. eyes steady. a little scared.
“but you…” he swallowed. “being around you feels easy. like breathing. i didn’t expect that.”
your throat closed. “anton—”
“i’m not asking you to decide anything tonight,” he rushed out. “i just needed to say it. i like our walks. i like seeing your face every night. i like the way you talk to max like he’s a person. and i think—” another swallow. “i think i really like you.”
max lifted his head. looked from you to anton like he was watching a very important tennis match.
every single breakup memory flickered past. the “you’re too intense,” the “i can’t handle the fur everywhere,” the suitcase wheels rolling over your heart. but anton had never once recoiled. he’d researched max’s food sensitivities. bought the durable kong toys. laughed when max stole his beanie and paraded around the courtyard like a king. stayed.
“my last ex left because of max,” you said quietly. “said we were both too much work.”
anton went very still. then he reached over slow, careful and covered your hand with his. warm. steady. faint guitar-string calluses on his fingertips.
“max isn’t too much,” he said simply. “and neither are you.”
you looked up. his eyes were soft, open, terrified in the best way, like he was handing you his heart and hoping you wouldn’t drop it.
you turned your hand over. laced your fingers through his. small. tentative. real.
“okay,” you whispered.
he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for years. small, relieved smile.
“okay.”
max barked once, sharp, celebratory. tail thumping the grass like drums.
anton laughed under his breath. “that’s a yes?”
“that’s a heck yes,” you said. “he’s been campaigning for team anton since night one.”
“smartest dog alive.” anton leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to back out.
you met him halfway.
the first kiss tasted like relief. like rain that finally stopped. like coffee from the 7-eleven you sometimes split. careful at first, then deeper when you slid your free hand to the back of his neck. he made this quiet, surprised sound against your mouth and pulled you closer.
when you separated, foreheads touching, breathing uneven, max had wedged himself between your sneakers, belly-up, paws dangling like he’d personally orchestrated the entire scene.
“package deal,” you murmured, smiling against anton’s lips.
“best one i’ve ever signed up for,” he whispered back.
the walks stretched longer after that.
slower.
sweeter.
sometimes anton brought his acoustic bass and played quiet riffs while max dozed in a sun patch. sometimes you brought two iced coffees and one straw, passing it back and forth while your pinkies hooked under the table. sometimes it rained and you shared the big umbrella anyway, shoulders pressed, laughing when max tried to catch every drop.
max still destroyed at least one thing per week. you still cursed when he pulled too hard on the leash. anton still showed up every single night, treat pouch full, smile soft, patience endless.
but now there were three shadows under the streetlights instead of two.
and when the next big typhoon rolled in weeks later, flooding half the city and turning the courtyard into a kiddie pool, you didn’t even hesitate.
you: rain walk? or are we calling it?
he appeared twelve minutes later rain jacket, biggest umbrella, shy grin.
under the canopy, rain drumming above, max splashing ahead like it was his personal beach day, anton slipped his hand into yours.
“still worth the wet socks?” he asked, voice almost lost in the downpour.
you looked up wet hair plastered to his forehead, eyes warm despite the cold.
“still the best part of every single day,” you answered.
he stopped walking.
turned.
max tugged once then sat obediently like he understood the assignment.
anton cupped your face with both hands gentle thumbs brushing rain off your cheeks and kissed you slow and deep under the umbrella. tasted like rainwater and chapstick and promises.
when you broke apart he rested his forehead against yours.
“i’m not leaving,” he said quietly. “not because of max. not because of rain. not because of anything.”
you closed your eyes. believed him.
because for the first time in forever the hopeless romantic hiding inside your ribcage didn’t feel pathetic or embarrassing.
she felt safe.
she felt wanted.
and max chaos incarnate, destroyer of pillows, professional third wheel just wagged his tail so hard his whole back end shook.
like he’d known from the very first woof that this was how the story was supposed to end.
three shadows. one umbrella. one very smug golden retriever.
and love messy, loud, tail-wagging love finally feeling like home.
secretly dating anton but y'all are actually really obvious: headcanons
𖦹 anton x reader, reader uses they/them pronouns!
𖦹 fluff, secret relationship
𖦹 typos + grammatical errors ahead :)
anton carrying your bags, and you consciously giving it to him as if your friends aren't looking at both of you.
"why are you carrying their bag?" friend asks
"he's just being nice" good thing, you're a pathological liar
but anton's not the best at lying nor pretending
anton unconsciously taking a portion of your meal because he knows that you get full easily.
"when did you guys got so close to the point that you eat each other's food?" anton would just stare at them til they drop the topic.
meeting up at the restroom because anton wants to hug you so bad he's tearing up
anton playing with your fingertips under the table
anton accidentally calls you "babe" so he started calling everyone babe
anton looking at you whenever someone's flirting w him. he refuses which makes your friendgroup suspicious about his dating life.
"i'm just- i'm- i'll- um" anton can't lie, unfortunately
"coincidentally" wearing matching fits
"what the hell, 'ton. do you have like a big fat crush on me? why did u wear the same fit" you jokingly said. anton's eyes are shimmering as if he's being hypnotized; he was about to say yes.
anton unconsciously playing with your hair while everybody's busy
"i thought you don't like it when people touch your hair?" they ask you so you're now forced to like it when OTHER people touches your hair
"bab- hey. do you um- can you help me with my stuff" anton can't come up with an excuse to get you out of the room either.
you explaining something to your friends, anton suddenly removing a strand of hair from your face which made everyone freeze.
"what the hell" -- "it's just hair" anton defended
anton UNCONSCIOUSLY giving you the first bite of his sandwich. at this point y'all aren't pretending anymore
sidewalk rule. anton pulling you casually to his side while you're busy yapping w ur friends
anton always asks: "did you skip your breakfast again?" which makes ur other friends wonder if anton would ask about their breakfast too...
"oh this is good" anton instantly taking a sip from ur drink the moment he hears ur reaction.
"you guys just kissed indirectly." - ur friends
"i mean- i don't- that's not true lol. are we kids?" and you gaslighting them
ur friends js watching anton take candid photos of you for like 27x today
acknowledging ur presence the moment u enter the room unless..
.. u arrive together (coz he's always picking u up)
most importantly, the eyes.
anton's eyes never lie. the way he looks at you while you're talking, the way he's always admiring you-- it's already a huge give away
even before you guys started dating, everybody already concluded that anton has a big fat crush on you.
with that, they're now thinking that anton finally got together with his crush
though you guys think that y'all are hiding it so well
⁂ when a girl who just can't be tied down meets a boy who wears his heart on his sleeve, they’re both in for a hell of a ride!
pairing: non-idol! sungchan x fem! reader
genre: smau + some written parts, strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, pining, fluff, angst, humor, slice of life, friendship hehe
featuring: fem! oc's, ot7 riize
warnings: ignore timestamps, women in male dominated fields, swearing, slight mental health talk (related to yn's job), kys/kms jokes, gay jokes!, food mentions, idk what else to say other than my humor (more to be added)
status: ongoing - no set upload schedule atm
taglist: open! comment to be added
disclaimer: this is purely a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only and does not represent those mentioned in real life!
⁂ PROFILES - ✨sanriHOES💘 | big DAWGS 💯🔥
⁂ ONE - SEIZE HIM
⁂ TWO - my ladies 4ever
⁂ THREE - lord have mercy (written)
⁂ FOUR - big dick contest (written)
⁂ FIVE - goodnight
⁂ SIX - HE SHOOTS, HE SCORES
⁂ SEVEN - about you (written)
⁂ EIGHT - go sohee!
⁂ NINE - dream cafe corporate
⁂ TEN - bro code
⁂ ELEVEN - sweet (written)
⁂ TWELVE - fuck me i guess
⁂ THIRTEEN - touch grass
⁂ FOURTEEN - so i ponder
⁂ FIFTEEN - baka life
⁂ SIXTEEN - come back
⁂ SEVENTEEN - 7 boys 1 bed
⁂ EIGHTEEN - we'll be okay
⁂ NINETEEN - shotaro is frowning.
⁂ TWENTY - whole house mad
⁂ TWENTY ONE - what is ami doing
⁂ TWENTY TWO - awaken the beast
⁂ TWENTY THREE - catching crabs (written)
⁂ TWENTY FOUR - kitchen (written)
⁂ TWENTY FIVE - on a mission
⁂ TWENTY SIX - gone girl(s)
⁂ TWENTY SEVEN - you know
⁂ TWENTY EIGHT - warning
⁂ TWENTY NINE - crumbling (written)
⁂ THIRTY - call aespa
⁂ THIRTY ONE - daddy eunseok
more coming soon!
mani's notes: synopsis is not all that great icl but first riize fic ily jung sungchan i promise to finish this one LOL
✮ pairing : riize's anton lee/lee chanyoung x female!reader (woo nayeon)
✮ word count: 7.6k
✮ tags: nsfw, sexual themes, college/university setting
✮ warnings: alcohol consumption, explicit words, explicit sexual content
✮ synopsis: a game of “seven minutes in heaven” should be just a dare—but for anton, it becomes so much more. locked in a small, dim room, playful teasing turns to heated touches, whispered confessions, and a tension neither of them can resist. seven minutes feel like forever, and by the end, nothing will be the same.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Anton Lee had a way of filling a hallway without trying.
Broad shoulders, easy stride, head slightly bowed like he wanted less attention when his body demanded more of it. He never said much, his voice quiet whenever someone tried to drag him into conversation. But his silence was never awkward. It was steady. Watchful.
Nayeon noticed him before she realized she was noticing.
The first time was at the campus gym pool— her friends had dragged her to cheer for the swim team. She didn’t care for sports, not really, but she carried her camera anyway, out of habit. It gave her hands something to do. Through the lens she caught flashes of him: slicing through water, chest and arms flexing as he pulled himself out of the pool, wet hair dripping into dark eyes.
Too handsome. Too untouchable.
She pretended not to look. She told herself she wasn’t interested. She had no business being interested.
But then came the small crossings.
Passing him in the library stairwell. Seeing him sit outside the lecture hall she was leaving. Once, standing in line at the café and catching him glance at her camera strap dangling at her wrist. Their eyes brushed for half a second before she looked away so fast she nearly bumped into the person ahead of her.
She was always the one to turn away first. Always.
What she didn’t know was that Anton remembered her.
Not in the obvious way— no, he didn’t stare, didn’t smile like the other guys on the team who threw winks at any girl in sight.
He only… took note. Observed.
The quiet girl from the photography club, always dragged into places by her friends. Always polite, always nodding along, but her eyes told a different story.
Reserved. Careful.
And maybe, just maybe, she lingered on him a little longer than she meant to.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
The party wasn’t Nayeon’s idea. It never was.
Her friends thrived in crowded houses where music pulsed through the floorboards, where drinks sloshed in red cups and laughter spilled too loud. She, on the other hand, clung to the edges, cup half-full, smiling when she had to.
She spotted Anton almost instantly.
He leaned against the far wall, beer in hand, looking completely out of place yet somehow magnetic in the chaos. He wasn’t talking much, just listening to his teammates banter, nodding occasionally.
But she caught it again— that moment when his gaze swept across the room and landed on her.
Brief. Steady.
Enough to make her heart stumble.
And then someone shouted.
“Truth or Dare!”
Of course.
Nayeon was pulled into the circle before she could protest, knees pressed awkwardly against the carpet, her friends giggling beside her. Anton, to her horror and thrill, was dragged in too.
The dares started harmless.
Chug your drink. Text your ex. Dance on the table.
The crowd loved it, the room echoing with cheers.
Then it was Anton’s turn.
“Truth or dare, Anton?” one of his teammates grinned, clearly eager to put him on the spot.
Anton’s lips curved faintly. “Truth.”
Booing followed, but the question came quick.
“How many girls on campus have you kissed?”
Nayeon nearly choked on her drink.
Anton didn’t flinch. “None.”
The circle erupted. “Bullshit!” “Liar!”
He only shrugged, calm as ever. “Why would I lie?”
Nayeon’s cheeks burned. She kept her eyes on the floor, but something in her chest throbbed at the thought. None.
The game rolled on. More dares, more laughter. Until someone’s grin turned sharp and the words landed like a bomb.
“Nayeon. Truth or dare?”
Her throat tightened. “...Dare.”
“Easy. Kiss Anton.”
The room exploded into cheers, stomping feet, whistles. Nayeon froze, wide-eyed, heat climbing her face. She looked at him without meaning to. Anton sat across from her, relaxed, gaze steady. Waiting.
Her friends nudged her. “Go on!”
Her pulse roared in her ears. People-pleaser that she was, she leaned forward, intending to make it quick, just a brush to silence the crowd. Her lips grazed his, feather-light—
And then his hand caught her wrist.
Her breath snagged as Anton tugged her back, not rough but sure. His mouth pressed to hers again, slower this time, deliberate.
A real kiss, deep enough for silence to fall before the circle erupted louder than ever.
When he pulled back, Nayeon’s face was on fire. Anton’s expression hadn’t changed much— calm, unreadable, but his eyes on her were heavy.
The game rolled on, but she barely heard it. Her lips still tingled.
And then the bottle spun.
It clattered to a stop, the neck pointing straight between them.
The crowd howled. “Seven minutes in heaven!”
Before she could protest, hands pushed them both toward the nearest closet.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
The closet door slammed, and the lock clicked shut.
Darkness pressed in, hot and heavy, with only the muffled bass of the party seeping through the walls.
Nayeon leaned back against the wall, trying to sound casual even as her pulse pounded in her throat.
“This is stupid. We can just… wait it out.”
Anton’s voice was low, steady, far too close in the dark. “You don’t actually want to wait.”
Her chest tightened. “What makes you so sure?”
“Because you kissed me back.”
She opened her mouth, but before she could answer, Anton closed the distance.
His lips crashed against hers, firm and hungry, swallowing whatever excuse she might have had. He kissed her like he’d been holding back for years, tongue slipping between her lips, hand cupping her jaw to tilt her head just right.
Her body reacted before her brain caught up, knees weak, fingers clawing at his shirt. He pressed her against the wall, his solid chest pinning her in place. She gasped into his mouth when his thigh nudged between hers, the hard muscle rubbing against the ache building between her legs.
“Anton—” she breathed, but it came out more like a moan.
He groaned at the sound, kissing down her jaw, biting lightly at her throat until she whimpered.
“Fuck, you sound good.” His hands skimmed down her body, over the swell of her breasts, squeezing until her back arched into him.
Then lower.
His fingers slid up her skirt, brushing against the heat of her panties. He felt the dampness immediately and chuckled, low and rough.
“Already soaked,” he murmured against her ear. “You’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you?”
She shook her head instinctively, but the whimper that escaped her lips betrayed her. “I—I don’t—”
“Don’t lie to me, Nayeon.” His fingers pushed her panties aside, stroking her folds with slow, deliberate pressure. She gasped, clutching at his shoulders. “Say it.”
Her chest heaved, shame and need twisting together.
“Yes,” she whispered. “For you.”
That was all he needed. He shoved two fingers inside her, filling her tight heat in one smooth thrust. Her cry echoed in the small space, hips bucking against his hand.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growled, pumping his fingers deep, curling them until she trembled. “Clenching around me already. You gonna cum just from this?”
Her head dropped back against the wall, thighs shaking, the wet slap of his fingers working her filling the air. Her moans tumbled out helplessly, each one swallowed by his mouth as he kissed her again, rough and messy.
“Anton—oh god, don’t stop—”
“That’s it, good girl.” His thumb found her clit, circling fast, relentless. Her whole body jerked, pleasure tearing through her as she came hard around his fingers, crying out his name.
He didn’t give her a chance to breathe.
The sound of his zipper filled the dark, and then he grabbed her hand, guiding it down to wrap around his cock.
Thick. Heavy.
Her breath hitched as her fingers curled around him, stroking clumsily.
“Stroke me,” he ordered, his forehead pressed against hers, eyes burning even in the shadows.
“Or I’ll fuck you against this wall so hard they’ll all hear.”
Her thighs squeezed together, her pussy still pulsing from her orgasm. She pumped him faster, feeling the hot slickness at his tip. He groaned, low and guttural, gripping her hips like he was holding back with effort.
Then he snapped.
In one motion, he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist. His cock pressed against her entrance, sliding through the wetness before pushing inside. Her scream tore out, muffled by his mouth as he swallowed it with a kiss.
“Fuck—” Anton hissed, slamming into her until he was buried to the hilt. “You’re so tight—taking me so fucking well—”
Nayeon clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, the stretch burning and perfect. Every thrust drove her higher up the wall, his hips snapping into her with raw, desperate force.
The closet filled with filthy sounds, the slap of skin against skin, the wet squelch of her pussy gripping him, their gasps and moans tangled together.
“Anton— f-fuck— so deep—” she sobbed, her head rolling back against the wall.
He growled against her neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. “You feel that? That’s me inside you. All of me.”
His pace was brutal, fucking her into the wall, every thrust hitting that spot that made her scream. Her moans grew louder, shameless, until she was shaking in his arms.
“I’m—oh god—I’m gonna—”
“Cum for me,” he demanded, driving into her harder. “Cum on my cock, Nayeon. Let me feel you.”
Her whole body seized, walls clenching around him as she shattered with a scream, wetness gushing down her thighs. He groaned, fucking her through it, his thrusts growing ragged.
“Shit— I'm gonna cum—” he snarled, hips pounding into her until he finally buried himself deep, spilling hot inside her with a guttural moan. His whole body trembled against hers, forehead pressed to hers, both of them gasping for air.
They stayed like that, tangled and ruined, sweat dripping, cum leaking down her thighs. The music outside roared on, muffled but distant.
And the door never opened.
Their friends knew.
They knew the seven minutes had long passed, but no one interrupted. They left them in their own dark heaven, moaning and shaking until neither could move.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
The party felt like a blur the next morning. At least, that’s what Nayeon told herself.
She told herself that as she sat through lectures, eyes fixed on her notes. She told herself that as her friends whispered and giggled about the “legendary” closet session, their eyes flicking knowingly in her direction.
And she told herself that every time she caught sight of Anton.
Because he was everywhere now.
In the cafeteria line. On the quad, sitting with his teammates. Passing her in the library, his dark eyes locking on her for just a second too long before she ducked her head and pretended to be busy.
She hadn’t forgotten.
How could she? Her body still remembered the ache of him, the bruises his mouth had left, the way his voice had growled her name like it belonged to him.
But she had to forget. Or at least pretend. Because facing it meant… what, exactly? That she’d fucked Anton Lee in a closet while half the party laughed outside? That she’d begged him to make her cum, and he had?
No. Better to smile politely, to keep her head down, to let it fade into the fog of alcohol and dares.
For a while, Anton let her.
He didn’t push. He didn’t speak up in public. He only watched, his expression calm, unreadable, the way it always was.
But beneath it, frustration simmered.
He remembered everything— the way she’d moaned against his mouth, how tightly she’d clung to him, the way her body had come undone for him. And now she walked past him like he was just another face on campus.
Like nothing happened.
By the end of the week, he’d had enough.
The photography lab was nearly empty when Nayeon slipped inside, camera bag slung over her shoulder. She liked it that way— the quiet hum of the enlarger, the faint chemical tang of developer trays.
Safe. Familiar.
Until the door shut behind her.
She froze. Slowly turned.
Anton stood there, broad shoulders filling the doorway, eyes locked on her with a calm intensity that made her stomach flip.
“...What are you doing here?” she asked, voice too light, too forced.
His expression didn’t change. “Looking for you.”
Her heart thudded. “Why?”
“You know why.”
She swallowed, forcing a laugh. “If this is about the party—”
“It is.” He stepped closer, the darkroom light catching the sharp lines of his face. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I haven’t—”
“Yes, you have.” His tone stayed quiet, but the edge in it cut deep. “You won’t even look at me.”
She turned away, fiddling with her camera strap. “There’s nothing to look at. We were drunk. Things got… messy. That’s all.”
Silence. Heavy.
Then his footsteps crossed the room, steady and slow until he was right behind her.
“Nayeon.” His voice was lower now, softer but dangerous. “Don’t lie to me.”
Her hands trembled against the camera. “I don’t remember, Anton. Whatever you think happened, it was just—”
He caught her wrist, gentle but unyielding, spinning her to face him. His eyes burned into hers, dark and furious and aching all at once.
“You don’t remember screaming my name while you came around my cock?” he asked, voice harsh in the quiet.
Her breath caught, her face going scarlet. “Anton—”
“You don’t remember begging me not to stop?” He stepped closer, his chest brushing hers now. “Don’t stand here and tell me it was just the alcohol. You were sober enough to feel every second of it.”
Her knees went weak, back pressing against the edge of the counter as he crowded her space.
She couldn’t look away. Couldn’t breathe.
Because he was right. And he knew it.
The silence between them stretched, thick and choking.
Anton’s hand still circled Nayeon’s wrist, his grip firm but never cruel. He could feel the quick flutter of her pulse beneath his fingers.
She yanked lightly, testing, but he didn’t let go.
“Anton,” she whispered, flustered, “you’re… you’re remembering it wrong.”
His eyes narrowed. “Am I?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. If she admitted it, if she let the words spill, then there would be no going back. Pretending would no longer be an option. And wasn’t pretending safer? Cleaner?
“You’re making it sound like—”
“Like what?” he cut in, voice low. “Like it mattered?”
Her breath caught. His eyes searched hers, sharp and searching, as if he could drag the truth out of her throat by sheer will.
And maybe he could, if he pushed harder.
But then, slowly, he exhaled. Released her wrist. Stepped back.
Nayeon nearly stumbled at the sudden freedom, the absence of his heat.
He raked a hand through his damp hair, jaw tight, expression hard to read. “Fine. Pretend it didn’t happen. If that’s what you need.”
Her chest squeezed. His voice wasn’t angry, not exactly— it was worse. Controlled. Clipped.
Like he was holding back an entire storm.
She tried to gather herself, forcing the words out. “It didn’t.”
His eyes flicked back to hers, pinning her in place. “You really believe that?”
Nayeon faltered, her throat dry. She looked away, fumbling with the strap of her bag like it could anchor her. “I have to go. I’m late.”
And just like that, she brushed past him, heart hammering against her ribs.
Anton didn’t stop her. He only watched, silent, his expression unreadable as the door shut behind her.
But after that, avoiding him wasn’t so easy.
He was everywhere. Passing her in the halls. Standing in line at the café. Leaning against the railing outside the library when she left late at night. Always calm, always composed— but his eyes never left her.
Not accusing, not demanding. Just waiting.
It made her skin prickle, her stomach knot. Because every time she told herself it had been the alcohol, every time she forced herself to believe the excuse, his steady gaze seemed to strip the lie bare.
And deep down, she hated how much a part of her wanted him to call her bluff.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
The annual campus festival was noisy, colorful, crowded— the exact kind of place Nayeon usually hated. But as part of the photography club, she had no choice but to be there, camera in hand, weaving through throngs of students to capture snapshots for the club’s display.
She’d told herself it would be fine. Big crowd, plenty of distraction. Easy to avoid him.
Until she spotted the swimming team’s booth across the courtyard.
Anton.
Tall, broad-shouldered, unmistakable even among his teammates. He wore the club’s team shirt, sleeves stretched tight over his arms, posture easy as he leaned against the table. He wasn’t doing anything extraordinary, just existing— but even from a distance, her lens lingered on him longer than it should.
Her chest tightened. She quickly turned her camera elsewhere, snapping photos of balloons and food stalls, anything but him.
But her eyes betrayed her, flicking back again and again.
And then she saw it.
One of the swimmers— tall, pretty, with glossy hair pulled into a high ponytail, drifted close to him. Too close.
She touched his arm as she laughed, fingers curling lightly against the curve of his bicep. Anton tilted his head, listening, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
Something ugly twisted in Nayeon’s chest.
She froze, her camera half-lifted, lens still pointed at them.
Jealousy.
The realization hit like a stone in her stomach.
Hot, bitter, irrational.
She had no right, none at all, and yet the sight of someone else leaning into him, touching him, made her blood run hot.
Her hands tightened around the camera.
Stupid. This was stupid. They weren’t anything. What happened in that closet didn’t mean anything. She’d decided that. She needed it to mean nothing.
So why did she want to march over there and rip the girl’s hand off him?
She sucked in a shaky breath, spun on her heel, and disappeared into the crowd.
For the rest of the day, she threw herself into work, snapping photos with ruthless focus, refusing to glance toward the swimmers’ booth again. When one of her friends called her to join for snacks, she made excuses. When another tried to drag her to watch the stage performance, she slipped away.
Anything to keep distance.
Anything to bury the jealousy clawing at her throat.
But later, when she ducked behind the library building to catch her breath, she felt it again— that heavy, piercing weight.
She didn’t have to look to know.
Anton was watching her.
Across the courtyard, leaning casually against a lamppost, his eyes fixed on her like she was the only person there. No accusation, no anger. Just steady, quiet focus.
Nayeon’s stomach knotted, heat flooding her chest. She tore her gaze away, shoving her camera into her bag, and walked off quickly.
This time, she didn’t just avoid him. She ran.
Avoidance became Nayeon’s full-time job.
If Anton entered a room, she left. If he lingered in the hallway, she ducked into the nearest classroom. If their paths crossed by accident, she kept her gaze fixed firmly on the ground, pretending she didn’t feel the weight of his eyes on her.
It was exhausting.
Worse, it didn’t work.
Because no matter how far she ran, he was there. Quiet. Unshakable. Watching.
Not chasing, not cornering her again. Just existing where she could see him— like a shadow she couldn’t shake.
And that made it worse.
At night, lying in bed, she replayed the image of that girl’s hand sliding over his arm. The way he’d tilted his head, the faint smile tugging at his lips. The picture looped in her head until her chest ached.
He can smile like that at her, but not at me.
Her fists clenched in the sheets. Good. That’s good. I don’t want him to. I don’t care.
But her body betrayed her, warmth pooling low in her stomach as memories of the closet bled through— his mouth on her throat, his hand between her thighs, the way he’d whispered her name like he owned it.
Nayeon buried her face in the pillow and groaned.
Her friends didn’t make it easier.
“Seven minutes in heaven, huh?” one of them teased over lunch, waggling her eyebrows. “More like thirty. What were you even doing in there?”
“Nothing!” Nayeon snapped too quickly, cheeks burning. She fumbled with her chopsticks, almost dropping them. “It was just… the dare. Nothing happened.”
Her friends exchanged knowing looks. “Mmhm. Sure. Totally nothing.”
She wanted to disappear.
By the end of the week, she was unraveling.
Her photos turned sloppy, her sleep was wrecked. Every time she thought she’d found her footing, she’d feel it— that heavy gaze on her back. She’d look up and find him across the library, across the courtyard, across the cafeteria, calm as ever.
Waiting.
It made her furious. It made her restless. It made her want him.
And the more that want festered, the harder she avoided him.
Because if she stopped running, even for a second, she knew the truth would catch her.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
It happened again.
The courtyard was buzzing with festival prep, students hauling boxes and stringing banners. Nayeon had her camera raised, framing shots of the chaos, pretending her pulse wasn’t already climbing just from knowing Anton’s team was stationed nearby.
She told herself she wouldn’t look. Not today. Not again.
But she did.
And there she was— the same girl, ponytail swinging, leaning into him with a laugh that seemed too rehearsed, too sweet. Her hand lingered on his shoulder this time, casual but possessive, fingers curling against the fabric of his shirt like she belonged there.
Anton didn’t push her away.
He didn’t encourage her either, not in any obvious way. Just that faint, polite smile, his usual calm. But it didn’t matter. To Nayeon, it felt like a blade twisting in her gut.
Her throat tightened. Heat flared sharp and ugly in her chest, burning through every excuse she’d clung to.
She spun on her heel, camera clutched too tight in her hand, and fled before she could humiliate herself with the expression on her face.
By the time she stumbled into the empty stairwell of the arts building, her breath was ragged.
This is stupid. This is so stupid.
She pressed her forehead against the cool wall, eyes shut tight. But shutting them only made it worse. Because the moment darkness filled her vision, the memories came rushing back— not hazy, not blurred by alcohol, but sharp and vivid.
Anton’s mouth dragging down her throat. The rasp of his voice in her ear. The heat of his hand shoving her skirt up, fingers sinking into her until she was gasping against his lips.
The way he’d pushed into her, filling her so deep she thought she might break, his grip on her hips bruising and desperate as she clung to him.
Her body shivered, betraying her, the ache of those moments still alive beneath her skin.
She remembered everything. Every second.
And no matter how hard she tried to scrub him from her mind, Anton was there— in her thoughts, in her dreams, in the restless heat that never quite faded no matter how many times she tossed and turned in her sheets at night.
The alcohol hadn’t made her want him.
It had only stripped away the walls she kept building around herself.
Walls that were crumbling now, faster and faster, no matter how she tried to patch them up.
She hated it. She hated him.
And most of all, she hated how badly she wanted him still.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
Nayeon thought she was safe.
The library was quiet at night, nearly empty, the air heavy with the smell of old books. She’d stayed late, burying herself in editing photos, determined to drown out the restless thoughts Anton had left festering in her.
But when she left, slipping into the shadowed corridor, she froze.
Anton leaned against the wall by the exit, as if he’d been waiting all along.
Her stomach dropped. “You—”
“Yeah.” His voice was calm, steady, but his eyes glinted in the dim light. “You’ve been running long enough, Nayeon.”
She tightened her grip on her bag. “I told you. I don’t—”
“You don’t remember?” He pushed off the wall, stepping closer. His sheer height and breadth made the hallway feel smaller. “Funny. Because I do. Every fucking second.”
Her throat went dry.
His mouth curled faintly. “Do you know how many nights I’ve woken up because of you? How many times I’ve come in my sleep, hearing you beg me not to stop?”
Her knees nearly buckled, heat slamming through her body like a punch.
Anton’s voice dropped lower, rougher. “I’ve been dreaming about you, Nayeon. About the way you sound when I’m inside you. About how tight you feel around me. You think you can erase that with silence?”
Her breath hitched, shame and want tangling violently in her chest.
Then he held up his phone. “Give me your number.”
She blinked, startled. “What? No—”
“Or I’ll ask one of your friends,” he said simply, tone maddeningly even. “But you’ll give it to me. You want to.”
Her pulse thundered in her ears. Against every shred of reason, she rattled it off. He tapped it in, eyes never leaving hers, the weight of his smirk unbearable.
Later that night, her phone buzzed.
1 New Message.
[Anton]: don’t ignore me again
Her hands shook.
The next buzz came before she could breathe.
2 New Messages.
[Anton]: been hard ever since i saw you at the festival
[Anton]: want to see?
Her chest locked tight.
Another buzz. A photo.
She gasped, heat flooding her face as she fumbled the phone. Anton, sprawled on his bed, shirt rucked up, sweatpants shoved low enough to see his cock straining against the fabric. Hard. Thick. Undeniable.
The caption burned into her vision.
[Anton]: thinking about your mouth on me
Her legs pressed together instinctively, her body betraying her with a sharp, aching throb.
She should delete it. Block him. Anything.
Instead, she stared.
Another buzz.
[Anton]: you’re wet right now, aren’t you?
Her breath shuddered out, guilt and hunger tangling until she could barely think.
And somewhere down the hall, Anton’s low chuckle echoed— because he already knew the answer.
The worst part wasn’t the picture.
It was the waiting after.
Nayeon lay on her bed, phone face-down beside her, chest tight. Every buzz made her jump. Every second she didn’t check it felt like torture.
When she caved and turned it over, the screen lit up.
[Anton]: still thinking about you in that closet
[Anton]: the way you clenched around me when you came. fuck
Her throat worked, dry.
Another buzz.
[Anton]: you ever touch yourself thinking about it?
[Anton]: bet you have
Her fingers curled tight around the phone, heat spiking through her veins. She typed a reply— Stop. Don’t text me. Then deleted it. Typed again— You’re disgusting. Then deleted that too.
She tossed the phone aside, burying her face in the pillow.
It buzzed again.
[Anton]: you’re quiet. that means yes
[Anton]: good girl
Her body jolted, shame and want twisting deep.
By midnight, she was trembling. Her thighs pressed tight, her sheets tangled, the ache between her legs unbearable. She picked up the phone with shaking hands.
One message blinked, unread.
[Anton]: want me to stop? say it.
Her breath shuddered. Her thumbs hovered.
She typed slowly, against every nerve screaming at her to resist.
[Nayeon]: yes
Send.
The reply came instantly.
[Anton]: liar.
Her chest seized.
Another buzz. Another photo.
This time, his cock in his fist, glistening at the tip, veins thick under his grip.
[Anton]: i’m stroking it for you right now
[Anton]: thinking about how you tasted
Her stomach dropped, her pulse hammering between her thighs. Her phone slipped from her hand onto the mattress.
She stared.
Her breath came ragged, shallow, as heat clawed through her chest. Before she could stop herself, she lifted the phone again, flipped the camera to front-facing. Her reflection stared back: flushed cheeks, mussed hair, lips bitten red.
Her thumb trembled. One photo. Send.
The message blinked away, leaving her stomach plummeting.
It wasn’t much— just her face, the look of her flushed and undone. But it was enough. Too much.
The three dots appeared immediately.
[Anton]: pretty
[Anton]: bet you’re soaked right now
Her hand shook. She almost dropped the phone again.
Another buzz.
[Anton]: show me.
Her whole body burned, shame and desire pulling her in opposite directions until she thought she might break.
And yet, the phone stayed in her hand.
Waiting.
The phone burned hot in Nayeon’s palm. The last message sat there, mocking her.
Her body ached. Her panties were already damp, her thighs slick where they pressed together. She shouldn’t. She couldn’t. This was the line, the one she swore she’d never cross.
And yet…
Her breath shuddered as she slid her hand down, tugging the waistband of her shorts low. The cold air hit her skin, sharp against the feverish heat between her thighs.
She switched the camera. Lifted it.
For a second, shame stopped her. Her finger hovered.
Then she pressed record.
Just ten seconds. Her fingers spreading herself, glistening. A muffled whimper spilling past her lips.
She hit send before she could stop herself.
The second it left her screen, her stomach dropped.
What did I just do?
She threw the phone down, burying her face in her hands.
But when it buzzed again, she couldn’t resist. She looked.
No text. Just dots. He was typing. Then it stopped.
Another buzz.
Incoming call: Anton.
Her chest seized. She froze, trembling.
The screen glowed. Ringing. Ringing.
Her thumb slid across before she even realized it.
“...Hello?”
His voice hit her like a blow, low and rough, heavy with need. “Fuck, Nayeon.”
Her breath caught.
“You’re killing me,” he rasped. “Do you have any idea what that did to me? Seeing your pretty pussy spread open for me like that?”
Her knees curled up against her chest, her whole body trembling. “Anton—”
“You’re soaked, aren’t you?” His breath hitched, sharp in her ear. “I can hear it in your voice. I bet your fingers are still wet.”
Heat pulsed between her thighs, unbearable. She whimpered.
He groaned low, like he could see her even now. “Touch yourself for me. Right now.”
Her hand slipped between her legs before she could think, slick fingers circling her clit. She bit back a moan, the sound strangled.
“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice cracking faintly. “Let me hear you.”
Her eyes squeezed shut. Her hips jerked helplessly. The sound of his breath on the line— heavy, ragged, only pushed her higher.
“You think I haven’t been jerking off to the memory of you every night since that closet?” His voice dropped, raw and feverish. “You think I haven’t dreamed about fucking you on my knees, filling you up until you scream for me again?”
Her moan ripped free, loud and broken, her fingers working faster.
He groaned in response, the sound so guttural she swore she could feel it in her bones.
“Good girl,” he growled, breathless. “Cum for me, Nayeon. Cum while I’m listening.”
And with his voice dragging her over the edge, she shattered, gasping his name into the phone as her body clenched and broke around her own fingers.
For a long moment, all Nayeon could hear was her own ragged breathing— quick, shaky, broken by little whimpers as the aftershocks rippled through her.
Then she heard him.
A low, guttural sound. His breath uneven, almost a snarl. “Fuck— Nayeon—”
Her heart slammed against her ribs. She curled tighter on her bed, phone pressed against her ear, every nerve in her body raw.
“Do you— do you even know,” Anton choked, voice breaking, “how hard my cock is right now?”
Her throat worked, dry. She couldn’t speak.
“You drove me insane the second you sent that video,” he went on, voice hoarse, every word jagged with restraint. “I almost— almost came just watching it. You spreading yourself open for me, whimpering like that— fuck, I can’t—”
A wet, rhythmic sound reached her ear. Her body jolted.
Her lips parted, breath catching. He was stroking himself.
Fast. Hard.
Her thighs pressed together again, the oversensitivity sparking into new heat.
“Anton…” Her whisper cracked, pleading without meaning to.
He groaned, sharp and broken, like her voice alone pushed him further. “Don’t— don’t say my name like that— I’ll fucking lose it.”
The pace quickened on the other end of the line, slick and desperate. She could almost see it — his fist pumping up and down his cock, veins standing out, tip flushed and dripping.
Her body burned all over again.
“Tell me—” His voice was ragged, almost desperate. “Tell me you’re still wet for me.”
She swallowed hard, eyes squeezing shut. “I am.”
He cursed low, almost vicious, before sucking in a sharp breath. “Fuck. Do you know what I’d do if you were here right now? I’d bend you over that bed and sink into you raw, make you scream into the pillow so no one else could hear. Fill you up till you couldn’t take anymore.”
Her moan cracked out of her, uncontained.
“That’s it,” he growled, breath tearing out of him. “Don’t stop— let me hear it— let me hear you fall apart for me again.”
The slick sound grew faster, rougher, his breath wild. “God, Nayeon— I’m so close— I’m gonna cum— fuck—”
She clutched the sheets, nails digging deep, her body trembling as if she could feel every snap of his hips against her.
“Say my name,” he demanded, voice raw, breaking.
“Anton—”
That was it.
He groaned so loud she had to bite her lip not to cry out with him. The sound of it— wet, messy, uncontrollable, filled her ear, echoing in her chest. She could hear it, the release, the low curses spilling between his gasps as he stroked himself through his climax.
Finally, silence. Only the two of them breathing, ragged and uneven, connected through the faint crackle of the line.
Then his voice came again, low and wrecked, but with a dangerous edge of a smile.
“Next time,” he murmured, still panting, “you won’t get to hide behind a phone.”
Nayeon shivered, unable to answer, the weight of what just happened crashing down.
And yet… she didn’t hang up.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
Nayeon woke up to the sound of her alarm and the weight of dread pressed down harder than the sunlight streaming across her sheets.
Her phone lay on the pillow beside her, screen black, but she swore she could still hear him in her ear. His groans, his curses, the way he said her name like it belonged to him.
Heat prickled up her neck. She shoved the phone under the pillow like that would erase everything.
But nothing erased it. Not the shower she took— twice. Not the coffee she forced down. Not even the chatter of her friends in class. The memory clung to her like sweat: the way she came with her own fingers while he listened, the slick sound of his fist on his cock, his voice breaking when he finished because of her.
She could still feel it. The way her body tightened just hearing him lose control.
And worse— she wanted it again.
She wanted him again.
Her stomach twisted, a knot of shame and hunger. She avoided her friends’ curious glances, laughed when she had to, nodded at jokes she didn’t hear. Every time her phone buzzed in her bag, she froze.
But she never deleted the messages.
By evening, she gave in and checked.
A single unread text blinked back.
[Anton]: can’t stop thinking about your moans last night
Her breath hitched.
Another followed before she could put the phone down.
[Anton]: you sound even prettier when you’re about to cum
Her pulse hammered so hard it hurt. She set the phone face down on her desk, covering her face with both hands.
“No,” she whispered to herself. “No, no, no.”
But the problem was she remembered.
Every second in the closet. Every word over the phone. Every dirty thing she swore she’d forget, replaying on loop whenever she closed her eyes.
And no matter how much she told herself it was a mistake, her body betrayed her. The ache came back. The heat. The way her thighs pressed together under the desk as if seeking relief.
She hated herself for it.
She hated him more for making it impossible to stop.
And yet, when her phone buzzed again, she reached for it like she’d been waiting all day.
‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹
Days had passed since the phone call.
For Nayeon, time seemed simultaneously endless and impossibly short. Every class, every corridor, every moment between school bells felt suffocating, like the world had shrunk around her own inability to forget Anton’s voice— raw, commanding, shattering.
Even now, she could replay the phone sex perfectly in her mind: the way he’d groaned her name, ragged and needy; the way his voice had tightened when she moaned into the phone; the way he’d come, his gasps vibrating through the line like they were tangible.
Her fingers itched, her thighs burned, but she refused to give in again.
She told herself she was done. That she was in control.
And then she saw her.
The same girl from before— standing by the poolside, leaning close to Anton, laughing too loudly, brushing her fingers against his arm in that casual, intimate way that made Nayeon’s stomach drop.
Time seemed to stop. Her chest tightened, her jaw locked. The ache she had been suppressing for days suddenly burned like fire through her veins.
She wanted to turn away. She wanted to vanish. And so she did.
For the next few days, Nayeon became a ghost around him.
She skipped the photography club meetings where he might appear. She took alternate routes across campus to avoid the pool where his team trained. She ignored texts he sent— some playful, some teasing, some impossible to ignore.
Every avoidance came at a cost. Her thoughts would wander, betraying her:
Do you think he’s thinking about me now?
Does he remember the way I came for him on the phone?
What if he’s touching himself while she’s there?
Her skin flushed with heat and guilt at the mere thought.
Even in class, her attention wandered. She found herself staring at empty seats, imagining him leaning there, voice low, brushing words across her mind as he did over the phone.
When her friends tried to tease her, she snapped. When they asked if she’d texted him back, she evaded.
And every time her phone buzzed, her chest clenched, a mixture of hope and dread tearing her apart.
By the end of the week, her focus on schoolwork had deteriorated.
Photos she once took with careful framing and attention to detail now came out sloppy, haphazard, mirroring the chaos in her mind.
Every time she glimpsed Anton in the hall— tall, broad-shouldered, calm as ever, her stomach knotted. She clenched her bag tighter, blinked rapidly, and turned away.
Even as she tried to convince herself that avoiding him was the answer, a part of her knew it wasn’t. The memory of him— of that night, of the phone call, was embedded in her body, a pulse she couldn’t suppress.
And yet, she ran.
She ran from him, from the jealousy, from the truth that she could no longer deny: she wanted him, needed him, and nothing else mattered.
Across campus, Anton noticed. Always. Patient. Observant. Waiting.
The library was nearly empty, the late afternoon sunlight slanting across the stacks in golden shafts.
Nayeon had tried to convince herself that she could hide here, that she could immerse herself in her photography notes and pretend the world, and Anton didn’t exist.
She failed almost immediately.
He was there, leaning against the doorway, tall and calm, eyes locking on hers the instant he saw her.
Her chest tightened. Her stomach dropped.
She tried to slip between the shelves, to disappear into the shadows, but he moved faster, cutting off her path effortlessly.
“Really?” His voice was quiet, steady, but layered with frustration. “You’ve been avoiding me for days. Days, Nayeon. Care to tell me why?”
She froze, words catching in her throat. “I—”
“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” His tone softened slightly, teasing, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “I saw the way you looked when she was with me last week. Don’t even try to lie to me.”
Her throat tightened, her fingers curling around her bag strap. “I— it’s nothing. I don’t care.”
He shook his head, stepping closer, a predator calm and sure. “Bullshit. You’re jealous. And the way you’ve been avoiding me proves it.”
Her breath hitched. “I… I don’t know why I—”
“You do,” he cut in, voice low and teasing, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear without touching her face. “You remember every second of what happened. The closet. The call. Every time I made you come. You can deny it all you want, but your body won’t lie. And neither will mine.”
Her pulse thundered. Her legs trembled. Heat pooled low in her stomach. She wanted to run. She wanted to deny. She wanted to scream.
And yet, she stayed.
Anton smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I’m not letting you run anymore, Nayeon. Not now. Not ever. I want you to stop pretending you don’t feel the way you do. I want to hear it from you.”
She swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “I… I’m jealous. I… I don’t want anyone else… I want you.”
The corner of his mouth lifted into a satisfied smirk. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I’ve only ever wanted you.”
He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low growl. “And now, I think it’s time you stop running and let me show you exactly how much I want you.”
Her knees nearly buckled. She could feel the tension in the air, the pull of him, and for the first time in days, she didn’t try to escape.
The library was empty except for the two of them, the quiet hum of fluorescent lights the only witness to the storm building between Nayeon and Anton.
She tried to focus on her notes, but her hands shook slightly, the paper slipping under her fingers. Every memory of the phone call— every moan, every desperate whimper into the line, burned in her chest.
Anton leaned closer, his shoulder brushing hers, his presence sharp and overwhelming.
“Stop pretending,” he murmured, low and dangerous, voice vibrating straight through her. “You’ve wanted me from the moment I got on the phone with you. Admit it.”
Her throat went dry. She couldn’t speak.
He smirked, one hand sliding to her wrist, holding it gently but firmly. “Look at me, Nayeon.”
She obeyed, heart hammering, pulse spiking as his dark eyes held hers like they owned her.
Without another word, he tilted her chin, brushing his lips over hers. Soft at first. Testing.
Nayeon froze, then shivered, lips parting instinctively.
His hand slid to her waist, pressing her gently against him. She could feel the heat of his body, the hard line of his chest, the strength in his arms.
Her hands went to his shoulders, clutching him as the kiss deepened. Tongues brushed, mouths moved together with a hunger that had been building since the closet, since the phone call, since the very first moment she realized she couldn’t ignore him.
Anton’s lips trailed down her jaw, her neck, whispering her name in rough, breathless murmurs. “So beautiful… so needy for me…”
Nayeon’s back arched against him, thighs pressing together under the table, trembling as his hand slid under the hem of her skirt. She gasped, breath hitching, body betraying her every attempt to stay composed.
His fingers found her slick folds, sliding inside her carefully, teasing, drawing soft moans from her lips. “God, you’re so wet for me,” he murmured, his mouth pressing against her ear.
She could only shiver, unable to speak, unable to stop the flood of sensation crashing through her. His thumb circled her clit, fingers thrusting inside her, and she moaned freely, loud, messy, entirely unashamed.
Anton’s other hand gripped her waist, steadying her, his own arousal pressing against her thigh. “You feel so good, Nayeon. I’ve waited too long to have you like this again.”
She gasped as his mouth returned to hers, tongue tangling with hers, every kiss a mixture of hunger and control. Her body shuddered, thighs trembling uncontrollably.
“Cum for me,” he whispered harshly, hand working her faster, lips nipping at her jaw and neck. “Let me hear you.”
She cried out his name, her body clenching and breaking around his fingers, waves of pleasure shaking her from head to toe.
Anton groaned against her, lips brushing her ear. “Fuck… yes. So perfect…” His own hips pressed harder, and the sound of him losing himself, close, restrained, made her gasp again.
The table, the empty library, the quiet stacks— none of it mattered. There was only them.
The ache, the heat, the need, and the first messy, perfect reunion of bodies finally giving in to everything they’d been holding back.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
a/n: after proofreading this over and over, i think i finally have the confidence to post my smut draft haha.... hope yall freaks enjoy this as much as i do :p i think i have too much sungchan and anton drafts but wonbin draft is coming up!!!! for my wonbin's girlie bestie too. i just need to proofread it and fix a lot of stuff first before finally posting it to the public.
