bf!anton x f!r ( ≧ᗜ≦) fluff ──────✿ ❕ clinginess and shirtless ton 1.1k 💌
The apartment is quiet when Anton slips in, the soft click of the door lock followed by the shuffle of his shoes. It's late — much later than he wanted — but rehearsals ran long and no one had the heart to leave until everything was perfect. Still, he hates being away from you for this long.
He drops his bag gently by the door and heads toward the faint blue light coming from the living room.
You're there, curled up on the couch, one leg tossed over a pillow, the other peeking out from beneath the hem of hisoversized shirt — a shirt that hangs off your frame like a blanket. The TV is still playing Ginny & Georgia — of all things — and the remote is loosely gripped in your hand, thumb resting just beside the volume button.
Anton smiles.
You must’ve tried to wait for him.
He pads over and crouches beside you, brushing a few strands of hair from your cheek. Your face is relaxed, lips parted slightly in your sleep. The kind of sleep where nothing could wake you.
Gently, he slips an arm beneath your knees and the other around your shoulders, lifting you bridal style. You stir a little, nose scrunching as you unconsciously curl against him, tucking your face into the crook of his neck.
His heart melts.
“Of course you're cuddly now,” he mumbles with a grin, carrying you to the bedroom.
He lays you down carefully, but before he can even pull away, your hand tugs weakly at his shirt.
“No—stay.”
He chuckles softly. “Baby, I need to shower. I smell like a gym.”
“Don’t care,” you mumble, eyes still shut. “Smell like… Anton.”
“I don’t even know if that’s a compliment,” he says, amused. But he presses a kiss to your forehead anyway, lingering for a second longer than necessary.
You let go, eventually, and Anton slips into the bathroom.
The sound of water running fills the apartment. You drift in and out of sleep, only properly waking when you hear the door click open and the faint whirr of a blow dryer. You peek through barely opened eyes.
He’s standing in front of the mirror, towel around his waist, head bowed slightly as he runs his fingers through his damp hair while drying it. The muscles in his back shift with each movement, and even in your sleepy haze, you can’t help but admire the view.
Without a word, you stand and pad across the room. He doesn't notice you until your arms snake around his waist from behind and your cheek presses into his back.
He stills.
Then: “Why are you awake?” His voice is quieter now, low and sweet, like it’s reserved just for you.
You smirk against his skin. “God forbid a girl misses her boyfriend.”
Anton lets out a breathy laugh. He turns the dryer off, setting it on the counter.
He twists in your hold, turning to face you. Your arms stay wrapped around him loosely, and he dips his head until your foreheads touch.
“Still sleepy?” he murmurs.
You nod. “Mhm.”
“But not too sleepy to sneak up on me in my towel?”
You smirk. “Maybe I like what I see.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Should I dry my hair more often, then?”
You giggle, fingers tracing the edge of the towel just to mess with him. “You’re so cocky.”
“And yet,” he leans in, brushing your nose with his, “you’re wearing my shirt. Again.”
“It’s comfortable.”
“It’s mine.”
“And I’m yours,” you counter, eyes twinkling.
He kisses you then — soft, slow, like he’s been waiting for this all day. His hands settle on your hips, thumbs brushing the skin above your shorts, and when he pulls away, you chase his lips instinctively.
“I missed you,” you whisper against his mouth.
“I missed you more,” he says, voice almost a sigh. “Come back to bed with me?”
You nod, eyes fluttering. “Only if you carry me again.”
He laughs, shaking his head, but he lifts you easily. “Spoiled.”
You nuzzle into his chest, a content smile on your face. “Yours.”
synopsis: in which your fuck boy roommate adds you to his body count
warnings: oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex p in v (wrap it), use of pet name 'baby', fuckboy!sohee (he is a red flag), roommate au, college au, very descriptive sex, pwp (porn with plot), barely proofread. let me know if i'm missing any!
a/n: could not stop thinking about sohee as a fuck boy, so i had to write it.. hope yall like it (first sohee fic kinda nervous...)
18+ MDNI suggestive content under the cut
you have been warned.
lee sohee. he was your roommate, dumbest mistake you could’ve ever made. he was in your friend group, not particularly your first choice for a roommate. but everyone else in the group had already found roommates, leaving just the two of you without one. and the thought of having to cover rent for an apartment all on your own made you wanna vomit. a broke college student like yourself could barely afford a cup of ramen and a bus pass.
there’s nothing exactly wrong with sohee, besides the fact that the two of you never got along since high school. everyone always thought he was so cool, but nothing about him even stuck out to you. he was just like any other gamer boy womanizer.
he was usually glued to his seat in his room, screaming curse words as his computer, while forcefully smashing his fingers into the keyboard. which would’ve been hot, if it wasn’t always at 1 in the morning when he decided to play.
there were attractive things about sohee, like the gray sweatpants he never stopped wearing around the apartment, which slung low on his waist. or the yankees snap back that he always wore to the back. or how, when he smiled, his two little pointy vampire teeth could be seen. but neither of those qualities mattered, because he disgusted you as quick as you could find him hot.
every weekend, it was a different girl. sometimes you wondered how the girls even made it out alive. it sounded like he was killing them. exaggeration? maybe. but god it was annoying. between the girls he brought over and his endless gaming, you hardly ever got sleep being his roommate. at this point, you were convinced he fucked every girl in the school. and any girl he hadn’t were just begging to be next. him and the other friends in the group went to parties nearly every weekend since college started, but you passed. to worried about your studies to wanna be packed in a room with drunk, hot and bothered college students.
it was another night like that. friday night, you're home alone, enjoying the empty apartment. lucky enough to not hear sohee playing video games or fucking another nameless girl. lost in your own world of studies, until you heard the passcode of the apartment being punched in, as if someone was entering. a sigh of annoyance followed, your peace would be interrupted by sohee and the quote "lucky" girl of the night.
but you didn’t hear anything. just him, and actually, the night was still early compared to when he usually came home.
then a knock to your doorframe, it was him. standing in the doorway. arms crossed over his chest, brown locks tossed. those gray sweats on again, and sitting just right to show the calvin klein boxer waistband peaking underneath. plain black tee that fit perfectly, but when his arms were raised, a little bit of skin showed.
“hey” he said, simple, too easy. like he wanted something.
you’d spin around in your desk chair, eyebrows furrowed in defense. “what do you want?” you reply, mocking his tone.
“what? your roommate can’t just.. say hi” sohee would respond with that easy giggle of his, that unfortunately left you holding back a smile.
“thought there was a party tonight, you’re home early. no girl either?” you said with a bit of shock in your tone, but not enough to show that you actually cared.
sohee invited himself in your room now and sat on the bed. palms of his hands supporting him as he sunk back into the mattress. “party was lame” he said with a sigh. “besides.. i think i’ve already fucked every girl that went,” he said.
sohee recalled it so casually, like sex was just another thing to him. like the girls he fucked weren’t people. it was gross, and you knew that. but something about it made your thighs clench. and you couldn’t explain why. almost like you were curious to know why every girl couldn’t keep their hands off him, like you were missing out on something.
you had to physically shake your head in an attempt to rid your thoughts, because for a second there you actually felt your body get turned on by sohee.
“aww boohoo, the first friday night of the semester your not getting laid,” you said, teasing him, a normal banter you had since everyone knew you two weren’t exactly fond of each other. you turned around in your seat and pretended to be busy with your notes and textbooks to distract yourself from the heat growing in your sleep shorts.
“just because i left the party, doesn’t mean I’m not gonna get what i want,” sohee uttered, his voice dropping in this sensual tone that almost scared you.
“oh great, and which girl is it that i’m gonna hear all night long?” you ask with a fake curiosity. oblivious to him getting off the bed, now getting closer to where you sat.
sohee spun the chair around, forcing you to look at him. one of his hands planted on the arm rest of the chair, and the other gripped onto your wooden desk. “you,” he murmured, a smirk appearing on his lips. his features were soft and innocent-looking compared to the devilish intentions he had with you.
you were silent, however, not expecting him to say that. never thinking in a million years sohee would find you attractive. although at this point, he probably found every girl at least a little fuckable.
you hesitated before quickly protesting, “ew i’m not gonna be your next victim.” you responded, eyes avoiding his even in the impossible proximity. though your body gave into his heat, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t interested in him at that moment.
sohee scoffed before cradling your chin with his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look at him. “do you really mean that? or are you just scared you’ll like it too much?”
“fuck you” you answered, avoiding his question. the warmth of his breath sent goosebumps to the skin of your cheeks, which were now flushed pink. then you gulped realizing he wouldn’t stop looking.
“i can fuck you, if you ask nicely,” he responded, but you didn’t say anything, not yet. still afraid to come to terms with how badly your body wanted him.
sohee didn’t move away, in fact, he slipped his hand away from the desk and now to your thigh. squeezing the plush of your exposed skin. before his hand trailed higher and higher to where you silently wished he was. he secretly waited for you to stop him, but when you didn’t, he took it as an invitation to keep going.
his fingers slid up your shorts and cupped right over your clothed heat. two of his slender fingers rubbing between your lips through your panties. your thighs clamped around his wrist. already the fabric had a damp spot right where his fingers were.
“you’re wet, y/n, come on, just say it. you want me.” he taunted with a smirk, still rubbing painfully slow circles. but you stayed quiet. still not admitting anything. you couldn’t bring yourself to damage your pride for secretly wanting a fuck boy like sohee.
so, he continued. didn’t stop, until your panties were drenched, and you were rutting your hips into his hand. until finally, he slid your panties to the side, and rubbed your bare wet folds with the veiny ness that was his fingers. earning a high-pitched gasp from you.
sohee’s brown eyes looked up at you, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you didn’t. still holding on tight to your pride.
with how wet you were he easily slid one finger in painfully slow. your hips bucked, and he had to use his other hand to steady your hips against the chair. “don’t run from it, your pussy needs this. needs me,” he said, talking to you, yet you still bit down hard on your bottom lip. concealing any noise that dared to slip out. though your chest still heaved as your breath picked up.
sohee, slid another finger in without warning. pumping two of his fingers inside you with ease, watching as your greedy hole swallowed his fingers with each push. curling them now to hit that spot that made your legs tremble against the chair. “that’s it, your letting go” sohee cooed as he felt your gummy walls unclench around him.
“agh.. sohee. fuck—“ you moaned now, unable to keep that back any longer. your back arched against the chair, and you gripped the armrests tightly. then your body began shivering, you were so close.
and sohee knew that. which is exactly why he took his fingers out, ridding you of the feeling. earning a loud whimper. “sohee, i was so close” you whined at him. he just chuckled in response, tasing his fingers with a lick, that were just inside you.
“gonna tell me you want me yet, or just sit here, while your body is begging to cum” he said, eyebrow raised, same cocky fuck boy grin like he knew that he had you in the palm of his hand.
you barely wanted to say it, to admit to it. but you caved, the feeling of pleasure more important now.
“i want you..” you said voice soft, avoiding his mocking gaze.
sohee snapped his tongue against the roof of his mouth like it wasn’t enough.
“louder. say it like you mean it.”
“excuse me?” you replied in disbelief.
“say it, or i’ll walk out right now” sohee said, dead serious. and that alone was enough to send a shiver down your spine. “sohee, i want you, please,” you begged, finally with your whole chest, locking eyes with him.
sohee smirked, loving to see you break down all of the little pride you had left, for him. he lifted you up off the chair and placed you onto your bed. pulling your shorts and soaked panties off in one swift motion. baring your wet folds to the cold air. he leaned in, tongue licking a wet stripe to your clit. before fucking your already sensitive hole with his tongue. nose pressed right at your sensitive bundle of nerves. your thighs clamped down around his head. but that wasn’t enough to make him stop.
he kept going like a man starved, plunging his fingers in again, stretching you around two of his fingers while lapping up your slick on his tongue. your body shook in waves of pleasure, and you could feel your hips rutting against his mouth. nearly about to release all over again. but sohee ripped the sensation away from you yet again.
an evil smirk on his face when he saw your pouty lips. he placed a soft peck to your lips, then a real kiss after. soft lips, but rough motion, his teeth biting on your bottom lip. making you whine into his mouth.
“sohee..” you whined again, denied of cumming twice, now you were starting to get so needy and fed up with his antics.
“had to get you extra desperate for me” he said, undoing the drawstring of his sweats, slipping them off with his boxers. letting his cock spring free. it was slender, but more girthy than you expected. the tip pink and swollen, dripping pre-cum. he took his shirt off too, revealing his torso to you. stripped naked in front of you now. fresh slick, making your thighs sticky from the sight of his exposed body.
he gave his rock-hard cock a few strokes before aligning it between your pussy lips, lapping up all the juices. earning another moan from you. you were already extremely sensitive from before. “stop teasing..” you said with a whimper, hands gripping fist full of your bed sheets.
sohee couldn’t help but chuckle at how needy you had gotten. but he finally pushed himself into your entrance. of course, you had sex before, but it had been a while since the last time you did. the delicious stretch, sent your back arching, arms wrapped around his neck. “sh—fu-- sohee..” you whined, the width of his girth stretching you out in a way no one has before. giving you no time to adjust either, as he already began pumping inside of you.
“squeezing me so well, you wanted this didn’t you?” he’d said, one hand on your chin forcing you to look at him. “say it, say you wanted this” sohee demanded, while drilling into you thrust after thrust.
“ngh—wanted, fuck. wanted this sohee!” you moaned, uncontrollably letting whiny pornographic sounds fall from your lips. not caring how desperate you sounded now.
“yeah? bet you listened to me fuck all the girls, wishing it was you, right?” he’d murmur, babbling dirty nothings that sent even more slick drenching his length.
it was then that you realized you sounded like all the girls he fucked, whiny and lifeless, while he pounded you into the mattress. splitting you open on his dick. it was inevitable to be this loud, and finally, you understood why. the stretch of his girth, the length of his tip hitting that sweet spot inside you repeatedly, he never lost pace, there was a reason why everyone wanted to fuck him.
sohee slid his hands under your shirt and grabbed a fistful of your boobs squeezing them mercilessly, fondling with your nipples, and pinching them between fingers. earning more desperate moans from you. your eyes were shut, body bouncing each time he hit a new, deeper spot inside you.
“open your eyes baby, look at me” sohee said, wanting to see just how good he fucked you. needing you to remember this forever. your eyes fluttered open, and when they did, he kissed you, roughly pushing his tongue inside your mouth. making sure to taste every part of it in a nasty make-out. pulling away with a pop noise.
your hands began tightening around his neck, gripping the back of his hair. “close—please.. need—need to cum sohee” you begged, not even fully aware of how desperate you became.
sohee had one hand on your waist now, the other ghosting your neck. “shit, me too, gonna fill you up, ok? take it,” he said, panting already, you nodded. each of his last sloppy thrusts made sohee grunt under his breath until he came. creating a white, almost clear liquid ring around his cock now. he pulled out and watched as your hole began leaking your shared liquids with a proud smirk.
you were panting, fucked out of it, lying on your bed. the shock of it all hadn’t hit yet. the fact that you let your fuck boy roommate fuck you after years of telling yourself he'd be the last girl he ever touched. claiming he wasn’t your type. everyone in your friend group would laugh if they knew what happened.
what was worse was how much you liked it. how good he actually made you feel, and the fact that you could imagine doing it with him over and over again.
sohee watched as you layed there, and he got up to grab a water bottle and a towel for you. “you okay?” he’d ask with a soft chuckle. re-entering the room, sitting on the edge of your bed, handing you the towel and water with a soft touch.
“shut up” you responded playfully, still lying there, he was already putting his sweats on, retying the drawstring.
then quietly, “are things gonna change now,” you suddenly asked him, worried about their dynamic and the unspoken future.
sohee scratched behind his neck. “why would they be?” he responded.
to him, this was a usual fuck, something he did every weekend. although he did think about fucking you specifically for so long, imagining what it would be like. however, he was a fuck boy for a reason. he didn’t know how to actually be in a relationship, talk about feelings, nothing like that.
when anton can’t sleep and u know he’s a busy boy with an even busier schedule, so u do what any concerned person would do, and mull over what u could do to help him, wracking ur brain around all the ways to lull him into that tranquil state of unconsciousness that he so desperately needed to be in well over an hour ago. and well, u knew better than anyone, that the only way to tire him out is to make it so that he can’t think anymore. so u take the matter into ur own hands, dipping ur fingers into his waistband the second he gives u the go ahead, excitedly tugging his underwear down just enough to expose him. the sight never fails to make u salivate, and for a minute u almost forget who ur doing this for. his breath catches loudly when u take his cock between ur lips, the wet, warmth a welcomed feeling against the cool night air, the ceiling fan clicking steadily like the soundtrack to ur endeavors. he uses both of his hands to gently brush the hair from ur face before transferring control to just one, holding it all back with one large palm. on a normal day, he’d probably use this to his advantage, naturally controlling u easily with a tight grip, but tonight he didn’t need to, not when u were so eager to help him, quickly sinking ur own head down until ur nose was just a few inches short from meeting his groin. it never mattered how many times u took anton, for he was big enough to make u gag every time, the sound always causing a conflicting mix of emotions to arise in him, the bigger part of him loving just how much u struggled, but another smaller part of him harboring a slight fear in actually hurting u. he typically liked to guide u down himself because of this, but the way u knowingly stilled for a moment, holding him in ur mouth as u evened out ur breathing was enough to unravel any doubts he may had about letting u take control. he couldn’t spend much more time worrying anyway, not with the way the entrance of ur throat fluttered eagerly around his tip as u soaked the rest of his cock in a thick layer of drool. tears brimmed prettily on ur lash line as u patiently waited, the sight of u gazing up at him like that enough to make him mutter some form of “quit that,” under his breath, despite him not actually wanting u to stop. he’d have to resist the urge to help u when u took him the rest of the way, ur body instinctively panicking when ur airway is cutoff, unable to help the way u squirmed pitifully as he made a home out of ur throat. it was hot and heavy and all too much, but u didn’t dare to push away, not when u were so determined, so u pushed on with a few muffled moans. his head would fall back against the headboard, the sound normally enough to make u giggle, but not right now, not with the way ur throat constricted around his cock, helplessly swallowing over and over again around his length, trying desperately to free itself of the intrusion as his hips bucked up to meet u again and again. u knew u wouldn’t be able to breathe as u milked him to an orgasm, the amount of his cum surely enough to make u choke in a way that was probably life threatening, but u couldn’t bring urself to care, not when u knew that it would be so hard for him to keep his own eyes open when he was all sleepily satiated from pleasure. and u wanted anton to sleep ❤︎
aged up! dilf! sungchan x inexperienced! virgin! f. reader
꩜ synopsis: in which sungchan’s patience has always been your safety net—until the night you climb into his lap and finally ask him to teach you how to be his.
꩜ warnings: mdni!! first time, size/experience gap, lap makeout, praise, gentle guidance, fingering, protected sex, slow sex, aftercare
꩜ notes: this is lowkey inspired by this dean winchester fic that was like the best piece of literature i’ve ever read on this app :3 wc: 2.7k
you end up in his lap without thinking about it. you always do.
arms looped around his neck, knees bracketing his hips, your cheek pressed to the soft cotton of his tee while the lamp throws a warm circle across the living room. it’s late and quiet, the kind of quiet that makes the air feel thicker. sungchan’s palm strokes your back, slow, steady lines you can time your breathing to. every third pass, he tucks a stray curl behind your ear like muscle memory. every fourth, he squeezes your waist like he’s reminding you he’s there.
“you’re heavy,” he murmurs, warm at your temple.
“am not,” you mumble into his shoulder, but you shift and he laughs, the low sound rumbling under your palms.
his laugh fades when you tilt your face up and kiss him.
it starts soft because you’re soft—always careful, always checking—but the second his mouth parts, the second he sighs a little against your lip, something tilts. your fingers fist in his shirt. his hand spreads at your spine. the kiss deepens like a tide.
you break first, breath catching, and he doesn’t chase. he just looks at you the way he always has: patient, steady, like nothing you could do would startle him. it only makes your heart hammer harder.
“okay?” he asks, voice quiet. not a roadblock—just a hand held out.
you nod, then shake your head, then nod again. “i… i want—”
“use your words,” he says, and his thumb strokes along your jaw so lightly it makes your eyes sting. “tell me what you want, sweetheart.”
“you,” you whisper. it falls out of you easier than you thought it would, like truth does. “i want you.”
his eyes soften and sharpen at the same time. “yeah?”
“yeah.” you lick your lips, nerves fluttering. “i’ve just never… you know.”
“i know.” his smile is small and real. “and we go slow. you don’t have to impress me. you just have to be with me.”
you breathe out, a shaky little sound that makes his hand tighten at your waist. “okay.”
“can i kiss you again?” he asks.
“please.”
he does, a little deeper this time, a fraction hungrier, like he’s letting you feel what he holds back. when he pulls away, he doesn’t stray far; his mouth lingers at your cheekbone, your jaw, a soft path toward your neck. everywhere he goes, you follow—jaw tipping, chest lifting, breath stuttering when he finds the place below your ear that makes your toes curl.
“pretty,” he murmurs against your skin. “you make the prettiest sounds.”
“don’t,” you breathe, mortified.
“i don’t mean it to tease.” he presses a kiss to the apology he hears in your tone. “i mean it because it’s true.”
his hands map the edges he’s allowed: over your ribs, down your sides, across your thighs where your shorts have ridden up. when he squeezes the soft at the top of your leg, you jolt, a tiny gasp escaping before you can stop it. heat flashes up your neck.
“hey.” he stills, lets you feel the stillness. “breathe. we’re not in a rush.”
you nod, swallow, and deliberately sink your weight onto him. he makes a sound he didn’t mean to make, a muted groan right against your collarbone, and your stomach drops like you stepped off a ledge.
“sungchan?”
“mm?”
“you… you can touch me,” you say, the words nearly a whisper, like they’re shy to be heard. “if you want. i want you to.”
he sits up a fraction. you’re inches from each other. the lamp hums, the night presses close at the windows, and his eyes are the only thing you can focus on.
“i always want to,” he says. “but i only will if you want me to. is that now?”
you exhale, a shaky laugh tucked in the middle of it because he’s exactly who you thought he was. “that’s now.”
“okay.” he touches your cheek with his knuckles first, that gentlest of starts, and when you lean into it, his palm cups your jaw. “i’m going to ask you things. you don’t have to explain—just nod or say yes or no. and if you need me to stop, you say stop. not because we’re playing a game,” he adds, mouth tilting, “but because i’ll stop.”
“okay.” your voice steadies on the repetition. “okay.”
he kisses you once more. then his hand slides under the hem of your shirt.
your breath catches automatically. he pauses automatically.
“okay?” he murmurs, fingers warm at your waist.
“okay,” you say, and you mean it.
he lifts your shirt in inches, waiting. when it clears your ribs, you raise your arms and let him take it. the lamp paints you in honey; you’ve never felt so seen. he looks for a moment—not greedy, not clinical, just memorizing—and then he bends and kisses the center of your chest. you stutter on a breath.
“you’re beautiful,” he says into your skin. “you know that?”
“i’m trying to learn it,” you admit, and his laugh is soft against you.
“let me teach you, then.”
he does it with his mouth first, open and warm as it finds the swell of your breast. his hand cups you, thumb stroke-light, and when his lips close around your nipple you gasp so sharply he hums. the pull is gentle and sure, not asking for anything from you except the sound you’re already making. you grip his shoulders; he sucks again; your hips rock before you know they’re moving.
he lifts his head, breathing a little rougher. “that felt good?”
you nod, dazed. “feels like… like it’s too much and not enough.”
“that’s the part i help with,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice that you can’t see. “may i touch you lower?”
you want to be braver than a nod. “yes.”
“over your shorts?” he asks. “or inside?”
your mouth opens and closes. you force yourself to look at him. “inside,” you say, steadier than you feel. “please.”
he squeezes your thigh like a reward. then he does something that startles a little laugh out of you: he reaches for his ring, slides it off, takes your hand by the wrist and, with such carefulness it makes your throat tight, eases the ring onto your thumb where it sits a little big and a little perfect.
“keep that on,” he says, kissing the knuckle below it. “so you don’t worry about me scratching you.”
“oh,” you say, stupidly, because there’s something so intimate about his ring on your hand you can’t find other words. “okay.”
“pretty,” he says again, and then his hand slips into your shorts.
you’re already wet. the contact makes a sound you’re not prepared for, slick and soft and obscene in the quiet room. you bury your face in his shoulder, mortified, but his arm tightens around you like he loves it.
“that’s mine,” he murmurs, and the possessive is so gentle you only feel safe. “all that. that’s for me.”
his fingers explore without hurry. one stroke, another, mapping the length of you, the dip, the plush at the top that makes your thighs jump. when he circles your clit the first time, he barely touches you; when you breathe out hard, he smiles against your temple.
“there you go. that’s the place, isn’t it?”
“yes,” you whisper, the word shaking. “oh—god, yes.”
“look at me,” he says softly. you do, even though your lashes are heavy and your cheeks are hot. his eyes are dark and warm and steady. “good girl,” he says, like he’s handing you a gift.
you keen a little. his thumb circles. his other fingers slide down, gather slick, return. he builds nothing and everything: a slow sweetness, a rhythm you catch without trying. you rock into his hand; he follows you; he murmurs little nothings that are really everything.
“that’s it,” he says. “you’re doing so well. you can hold me as tight as you want.”
“can i—” you swallow, dizzy. “can i feel your fingers?”
“inside?” he asks. “yes. breathe for me first.”
you do. he kisses your mouth while his middle finger slides in, impossibly careful, impossibly patient. the first stretch makes your brows knit; he feels the way you tense and stills immediately, thumb going light on your clit, mouth pressing into your cheek.
“you’re okay,” he says, and you must be because you are. “tell me when it starts to feel good. i can wait all night.”
“it— it’s starting,” you whisper, the words catching on a moan when he curls just a little.
“there,” he says, pleased. “there you are.”
he moves in shallow strokes, unhurried, never chasing. when you melt, he adds a second finger, and your shocked little sound has him groaning under his breath. you cling to his shoulders, ring cool against his skin, and he works you open with a reverence that makes your chest ache. you don’t know when the edge finds you—somewhere between his thumb circling you and his mouth at your jaw and the slow, sure slide of his fingers—but when it arrives, it blots out the room.
“sungchan,” you whisper, high, desperate, “i think— i think i’m—”
“you are,” he says, voice so soft you don’t realize you’re crying until he kisses a tear. “let go for me, sweetheart.”
you do. it’s messy and quiet and everything. your body breaks, and he holds you together, murmuring “that’s it, that’s it, good girl, so good, i’ve got you” as you tremble through it. when your breathing stutters back into rhythm, he eases his fingers out and cups you with his palm, grounding, gentle. your sweat slicks your temple where it rests under his mouth.
“was that okay?” he asks, after a while.
“better than okay,” you say, voice small and awed. “that was… i didn’t know it could be like that.”
“it can be like anything with us,” he says simply. “do you want to stop here tonight?”
you do not. the want is so stark you flinch from it. “i— i want more,” you admit, like you’re confessing to a crime. “i want you inside.”
his breath goes ragged. his hand tightens at your hip. then he nods like he’s steadying himself. “okay. then we’ll do that.”
you expect the world to spin; it doesn’t. he keeps it careful. he shifts you off his lap only long enough to fetch the little box from the drawer, the one that’s been there and unopened for months because he never pushes. you feel shy when he tears the foil, shy when he rolls the condom on, shy when you glance down and realize just how big he is—how much of him there is to learn.
he sees the way your eyes widen and reaches for your hand. the ring glints on your thumb. he threads his fingers through yours.
“you tell me to stop at any point,” he says. “i mean that.”
you nod, dazed and certain all at once. “okay.”
he lies back, draws you over him, keeps one hand on your hip, the other cradling your nape so you can hide if you need to. he fits himself at your entrance and waits. you breathe. you nod. he presses in.
the world narrows. your breath catches. your body resists, then yields. he goes slow enough that you could count the seconds between shallow pushes, slow enough that you feel everything and somehow don’t drown. pain bites at the edges, but the warmth in his voice catches it and turns it into something else.
“good,” he says. “breathe, baby. that’s it. you’re taking me so well.”
“you’re too—” you gasp, then bite your lip hard enough to sting. “i mean— i can feel… all of you.”
“i know.” his laugh is strangled. “i can feel all of you too.”
when he’s fully sheathed, he stops. it’s not for him; it’s for you. he stares at your face like it’s the only piece of the universe he needs to read, and when your muscles stop fluttering and your brows ease and your lips part on a sigh that sounds more like pleasure than pain, he closes his eyes for one long breath.
“okay?”
you blink, slow. “okay. more than okay.”
“if i move—”
“please,” you say, and he does.
not much, not a brutal rhythm, just the kind of slow slide that shows your body what it can do. you feel impossibly full and impossibly safe. you feel owned and worshiped at the same time. he watches you like the sky opened in his living room. he keeps your hands pinned gently to either side of your head so you can hold on without hiding your face, and every time you make a noise he murmurs something back.
“that’s my girl.”
“look at me.”
“you’re perfect.”
“you’re doing so well.”
“i’ve got you.”
you believe him. your hips are clumsy at first, then more sure as you learn the tempo he sets. when he angles his pelvis and hits a deep place you didn’t know you had, you cry out so loud you yelp and clamp your mouth shut. his smile breaks across his face like summer.
“don’t hide them,” he says, breath catching as you squeeze around him. “give me everything.”
you do. the sounds you make are ugly and beautiful. you think you say his name and a thank you at the same time. when you begin to fall apart the second time, it’s not because of the rhythm or the angle or the heat—it’s because he kisses your mouth, slow and sure, right as the wave crests, and you realize you’ve never felt safer during anything.
“let go for me,” he says again, voice frayed. “please.”
you do. you shatter like softened glass, your body clenching around him so tightly he groans, the sound punched out of him. he stutters, swears, buries his face at your jaw. you feel him follow you, hips jerking once, twice, a harsh breath breaking into a moan as he comes. he keeps kissing you through it, heady and helpless.
silence after is a cocoon. the lamp hums. the world exists somewhere else.
he doesn’t leave you. he strokes your hair back, thumbs beneath your eyes to swipe at dampness you didn’t feel fall. you breathe into his mouth. he breathes into yours. eventually, he eases out, ties off the condom, disappears long enough to toss it, and returns with a warm cloth and a glass of water you didn’t realize he’d put on the side table.
“mean,” you whisper, blinking at the ceiling while he cleans you with such care your throat tightens again. “you prepared.”
“i hoped.” he presses a kiss to your knee like it’s a thank you. “never assumed.”
you tip the water to your mouth, and his hand is there under the glass like he can’t not take care of you. when you set it down, he catches your left hand and slides his ring off your thumb, turns it once, then—after a beat—slides it right back on.
“keep it for tonight,” he says. “until you fall asleep. just so you remember you did something brave and you did it with me.”
your eyes burn. you pull him down and kiss him, softer than any kiss so far. when he rolls onto his side, you go, easy as a tide, and fit yourself to him like you’ve been practicing all your life.
“did i do okay?” you ask, ridiculously small.
he makes a sound like a laugh and a groan. “you wrecked me, sweetheart.”
heat floods your cheeks. he catches it and kisses it, then tucks your head under his chin, palm stroking your back in those same steady lines from earlier, as if nothing’s changed and everything has.
“i’ll be sore,” you say, mostly to fill the space because the quiet is so big.
“i’ll draw your bath in the morning,” he answers without thinking, like of course he will. “and make you that tea you pretend you don’t like.”
you nudge his ribs. “you’re a bully.”
“i’m yours,” he says, and the words settle like a blanket over a chair—obvious, right where they belong.
you drift first, hand heavy on his chest, ring a cool circle against his skin. before sleep takes you all the way, you feel his mouth at your hairline, the whisper there so soft you might have dreamed it:
pairing: switch! producer boyfriend! anton x sub! f. reader
🇨💿 🇳🇹🇦🇮🇳🇸 ꗃ SIZE KINK, kissing, lap sitting, tit & clit play, anton records a sex-tape in the studio, unprotected sex (back shots), roughly 1.8k words … !?
a/n: for @antonitty and her delusions - hope u like it bae !!
You sat idly on the studio couch, admiring your boyfriend from afar as he silently toggled with the sound desk, mixing a few rhythms.
Crossing your legs, you eyed him up and down, taking in the view of his focused frame.
“You’re pretty good at flicking and twisting those knobs, y’know?… I wonder how nice it’d be if you used that same energy to please me…”
He let out a soft breath, eyes still trained on the soundboard as he spoke, “Babe, you know I’d rather spend time with you… I just have to produce this track sample before tomorrow…”
“And then?…”
“I’m all yours,” he finished, flashing you a promising look through his shaggy bangs.
“Fineeee,” you agreed in a sarcastic tone, slightly rolling your eyes at him, “but can you let me try something on the record first?… it might help…”
Anton quirked a brow, turning to meet your face with his own intrigued one, “You mean like… singing?”
You simply nodded in response, just before promptly getting up from the couch to sit on his lap at the music desk.
He didn’t know what to do with his hands now that you were this close to him, so he simply rested them at each arm of the spinning chair.
“You might even learn a thing or two from me if you pay attention,” you went on, knowing that he’d smile at your playful words.
“Go ahead then, superstar… blow me away,” he whispered tauntingly, keeping his thighs firm as you adjusted yourself on top of him.
With his headphones secured around his head, Anton prepared himself to hear whatever it was that you wanted to add to the track project.
Pressing the red “record” button, you let the instrumental play for a few moments as you got a feel of the beat, this one sounding more R&B compared to his usually chill rhythms.
You started by toggling in a few bass notes on the drum-pad, watching Anton’s reflection in the soundproof screen ahead for any sign of reaction.
So far, he only bobbed his head slowly, still anticipating your next move.
That’s when you picked up the mic, bringing it to your lips and letting out the most pornographic moan you could muster.
Anton’s hands flew from the chair arms to take off his headphones, reaching forward to pause the track recording as you suddenly burst into a fit of giggles.
“Babe, what the hell?” He blushed, covering his face with one hand as butterflies rushed through his stomach, the sound of your moan replaying in his mind over and over, “this is serious, y’know?”
You turned around in his lap, taking in your boyfriend’s shy demeanor as you fought to hold back the laughter growing in your chest.
“What? Was it bad? I can do better if you want me to…,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes at him as he put his hands behind his head, slightly smirking at you despite the evidently nervous red flush of his cheeks, “you can even help me...”
“Don’t give me that look, ____,” he sighed, voice sounding a bit more raspy while still maintaining its usual softness.
Was it nerves?
Was he horny?…
Either way, it didn’t matter to you because he sounded so fucking hot right now—
“What look?” you pressed with a feigned expression of innocence before very intentionally wiggling in his lap a bit.
“Like you wanna be fucked,” Anton said with a wince at your actions, letting his eyelids fall slightly while looking down at you with a clenched jaw.
You couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth so smoothly, his confidence alone causing you to squeeze your thighs together, already feeling so eager for him…
You couldn’t handle it when he behaved so switchy with you… starting off all shy before gradually becoming more and more bold.
His eyes eventually wandered back to the soundboard, so you took it as an opportunity to change the subject.
“You never told me if it was bad or not,” you started in the silence, mind just now becoming aware of Anton slowly getting harder beneath you.
“Well,” he hummed, letting his hands leave his head and slip down to your hips, “it was a solid 50-50, if I’m being honest…”
You scoffed dramatically, an offended hand flying to your chest, “How so?”
“Because… I always love the sounds you make for me, but not when you force them…”
His grip on your hips was firm now, holding you in place before just barely rocking you against his lap in skilled motions.
Despite the simplicity of his actions, your body started to feel dizzy with desire, mind fogging up as his clothed tip continued grinding beneath your core.
“Anton—”
“Shhh,” he interrupted, the feeling of his breath below your ear making you internally shiver, a feathery yet steady groan escaping his lips.
“Can I try something now?” he asked breathlessly, even though the question sounded more like a declaration than a proposal of permission.
“Mhmm,” you nodded submissively, eyes feeling heavy as the warmth amongst your bodies only grew, thanks to how stuffy the studio was.
Clicking the sound desk back on “record,” Anton slipped his headphones over your head, feeling himself get even hotter at how cute you looked in this moment, his chunky earmuffs barely fitting around your much smaller head.
By now though, Anton had easy access to your lower half, given the high-pleated-skirt you decided to wear that day.
You almost felt like half of your body escaped to another planet when Anton’s touch started to wander lower, his hands practically covering the entire expanse of your exposed thighs given how big they were.
His breath remained steady in this moment, despite how his heart kept stuttering like a broken record.
Or perhaps, a sexually excited one…
The subtle movements of your legs helped Anton to shimmy your panties down past your hips, all the way down to your ankles, and eventually the floor.
You sat with your soaking wet core atop your boyfriend’s lap now, two of his fingers soon finding your clit in slow, circular motions.
The thing was, Anton had finally let his intrusive thoughts win, having wanted to get a genuine recording of your moans for a while.
The idea always meddled in the back of his mind whenever you pranced into the studio while he was working on beats…
However, the only issue now was that you were feeling a bit shy with the recorder on again…
“C’mon baby, lemme hear you,” the boy nearly begged, words sounding a bit mumbled with the way he was kissing along your neck.
“I know you want to,” he taunted, free hand sliding up to grope your left tit while his other hand continued toying with your pussy, “no wonder you wore this slutty skirt for me today…”
His voice… it practically intoxicated you… the way it sounded so pure yet so condescending at the same time…
“F-fuck,” you stammered with a moan, furrowing your brows as his fingers applied pressure to your clit, the other hand slightly pinching your nipple as he knew just how to get you to those pretty sounds that he wanted out of you.
“Good girl~,” he whispered in a cooing manner, “but I know you can do better than that…”
He guided you to stand up on your wobbly legs, his fingers meddling with your slick as he towered behind you.
And although your ears were still muffed with his headset, you could clearly make out the sound of his belt unbuckling with tingly clinks, your pussy only pulsing with need.
Before you could even beg to be fucked, you felt one of Anton’s hands hike up your skirt, the other forcing your back to arch over the sound board as his hard length pressed between your folds.
He was way too fucking big, but part of you liked the idea of him potentially breaking you.
It wasn’t easy, but your boyfriend eventually slipped himself inside, letting his tip tease along the ridges of your heat before picking up the pace, the soft pants and occasional groans from his body sounding loud and clear thanks to the headphones you wore.
There was also something about hearing your own moans so audibly on top of his… hearing how he turned you into a whiny mess so easily…
Anton’s hazy eyes met your fucked out reflection in the glass screen ahead, your own vision wandering off to the sound wave reader on his music board.
The way it’s lines heightened with each desperate moan that left your sweaty bodies did nothing but crazy things to the knot tightening in your stomach.
“Touch me, Anton,” you practically whimpered, voice coming out in small hiccups given how hard he was pounding into you.
His hands were already so tight around your waist, but your whiny request let him know exactly where you wanted him… where you needed that extra intensity.
He went to grope your tits, lifting your body away from the sound board with ease as the sight of his flexed biceps nearly made you drool.
The pace of his hips remained fast and controlled as he continued fucking into you, the tip of his cock reaching so deep that you’re sure you felt it in your belly button.
Looking down, Anton saw that the recording had reached just over 3 minutes, despite how your pussy desperately clenched around him, a clear sign that you were close to finishing.
His mouth was full of saliva, not even remembering to swallow given how pleasure drunk he was right now.
And somehow, you caught onto this, turning your neck at an angle and guiding his plush lips to kiss you, only a few seconds passing before he inserting his tongue, grunting into your mouth.
“You sound so pretty, baby,” he said in between kissing you sloppily, right before taking his headphones off your head and tossing them on the couch, still connected to the music desk by a thin black wire, “listen…”
He whispered the last word against your lips, maintaining the most gentle look in his eyes as he kept bouncing your ass on his cock.
You meant to say something, but the weak cries of pleasure kept stalling your speech, the words becoming a jumbled mess in your head.
Anton’s strength helped to hold up your shaky body just as you felt your release gush around him, a bit of it seeping onto his thighs as he continued thrusting.
It didn’t take long for him to cum after that too, a beautiful series of moans spilling from his lips as he panted over you, letting his hand slide away to end the recording.
The screen read ‘5:18s’ before Anton reached over to save the track, leaving both of you shocked that you even finished that fast together…
Still a panting mess, your boyfriend held your hips close to his, letting his weight fall back in the spinning chair with you on top of him.
“We should totally do quickies in the studio more often,” you huffed tiredly, leaning back against Anton’s chest as he hugged you close, still inside your pussy.
“Not that I’m disagreeing with you, but maybe after I install an air conditioner in here, we can plan something,” he smiled, not even bothering to wipe the sheen of sweat from his face that inevitably kept your hot bodies clung together.
Your hand found his, fingers idly toying with the rings he wore as he adjusted himself beneath you, “I should probably let you get back to work now since I’ve distracted you enough already—”
“Let’s just stay like this for a little longer,” he interrupted, almost yawning at how comfortable he felt buried inside you in this moment, “please?”
“Of course, superstar,” you replied playfully, nestling into his warmth and letting your eyes fall shut as you listened to the sound of his gentle heartbeat…
𓏵 ⌞ 정성찬 x f!reader, smut, 0.8k ⌝ ∘∘∘ mean sex, degradation, petnames (angel, doll)
𓏵 your husband hasn’t been paying much attention to you, so you simply ignore him. there couldn’t be much consequences, right? *ੈ✩‧₊˚
ナナ’s ⦂ it’s been 78 days since this was requested 😭😭 sorry for taking ages to get to this, anon!! 🙇♀️
if someone asked, you’d say sungchan was a good husband. he got you gifts whenever you asked for them, did the work to support both of you, just doing whatever so you could live like a princess.
but recently, sungchan’s been busy with work, barely giving you any time. you understood that his business meant a lot to him, but he hardly gave you glances anymore. even things as simple as his texts were starting to become more and more rare.
so of course, you decided to give him space. however, you couldn’t help but add a little twist to it. if sungchan, your own husband, wouldn’t give you the time of day to start a small conversation, you had all the right to act bratty, no?
for the next couple of days, you were uninterested in attempting to talk to him or check in on him when he locked himself in his office for hours on end. and there was no way he could ignore it. your new persona was insanely unlike you, sungchan would have to be blind to not see the difference.
he couldn’t stand it. he had tried apologizing, giving you expensive gifts, hell, even begging for your forgiveness. but you wouldn’t give in. he’d done all of this, but was yet to change his actions.
tonight, you decided to go to sleep without him, sick of waiting for him to finish working just to ignore you. but either way, your eyes refused to close until you heard the familiar jingling of sungchan’s keys unlocking the front door.
sungchan silently got into bed, your back gently pressed into his chest. the warmth of his body spread onto yours, melting you to sleep. but as soon as your eyes fluttered closed, the tingle of his cold hand sliding under your shirt and around your body stirred you awake. it wasn’t long until his hands were moving up to your chest, groping your breasts and toying with your hardened nipples.
more under the cut ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･
as hard as you tried, you couldn’t hold in your noises. a soft whimper escaped your lips, exposing your consciousness. “so you’re awake?” his voice was rough, as if he had been touching you to blow off pent up steam. “only taking the pleasure and never giving. such a pillow princess.” he dragged your body over, laying you flat on his back as he tugged his sweats down.
he pulled your shorts off in one swift motion, taking your panties off with it. “i tried to be nice, angel.” he spread your legs out with ease, no resistance coming from you, and slipped his length into your cunt. “you like this, don’t you? already so fucking wet.” his cock punched your cervix with each thrust.
his body reached over you, gathering your shirt around your neck for full access to your chest. “look at you, you can’t even open your eyes.” he struck a slap to your tits that bounced every time he rammed into you, evoking a loud cry.
“mmngh! s-sungchan!” your back arched into him as his mouth attached itself to your breast, tongue teasing your pebbled nipple. “chan, it’s t-too much.” you manage to stammer despite the rough pounding.
“i don’t care, doll. take it like the slut you are.” you can feel every vein on sungchan’s cock as your walls tighten around him, nearing your climax. “sh-shit… you’re so fucking tight.”
your hands gripped at the sheets, fists balling up mounds of the fabric. “please, i’m close.” you whined, using everything in you to not cum right then and there.
sungchan scoffed at your nerve. “you think you get to cum after ignoring me like a brat?” his pace increased, somehow thrusting into you faster than before. “whores like you don’t get to cum, y/n.”
you felt sungchan’s hips stutter, his hands grasped at your waist for control, certain to leave a red mark later. abruptly, a familiar warmth filled your pussy, steadily leaking out of your hole and onto the sheets beneath you. he pulled out of your before you got any closer to finishing, leaving you begging for more.
“if you wanna be a slut and only take, you don’t get to cum, doll. you should know that by now.” he dropped onto the space beside you, chest heaving as he caught his breath. “so pretty for me.” he cooed, pressing soft kisses against the shell of your ear.
you whimpered, a part of you still hoping he’d touch you to your release, but you knew when sungchan said you weren’t cumming, he meant it. “mmngph, chan…” you tugged him closer, resting your head on his chest.
“so needy…” he mumbled under his breath, carding his fingers through your hair. “if only you weren’t being a brat.”
playlist : i wait for you / alex g , to all of you / syd matters , skinny love / bon iver , somethin stupid / frank sinatra , oldest trick in the book / matt maltese , intolewd / matt maltese , photograph / ed sheeran , cigarette daydreams / cage the elephant
remembering a boy from your childhood during a three-day summer trip, you return to the same camp from 16 years ago hoping to piece together the memories.
growing up, you had your fair share of friends. you were the kind of kid who'd wave at strangers and start conversations on the swings. outgoing, chatty, always the first to suggest a game of tag or hide and seek. the neighborhood kids adored you. some even called you the "mayor" of your street. at one point or another, nearly all of them had been your playmate, even if just for a single afternoon.
you don’t really remember much before the age of eight, except for one kid.
you were five when your parents took you camping to a forested site hours away from the city. a trip that was supposed to be ordinary, just a short weekend surrounded by pine trees and buzzing cicadas. the campsite had the smell of firewood and damp grass, and the lake glimmered under the summer sun. that was when you met a boy who changed everything, even if you wouldn’t remember it clearly for years.
he was around your age, with chubby cheeks and grass stains on his shorts. his hair stuck out in funny places like he had been rolling on the ground.
"hi," he shyly approached when he saw you standing by your parents' tent. "i like your shoes."
you blinked down at your pink sneakers, confused. "they got wet."
"that’s okay. mine are dirty."
he held out a rock with a shiny stripe in the middle. "this is for you. it looks like candy but it’s not. i found it by the river."
you nodded solemnly and took the rock like it was treasure. and from that moment, you were inseparable.
you ran around the campsite, chasing butterflies and pretending the trees were giant towers. you dug for pretend treasures, you played hide and seek, though you always gave away your hiding spot by giggling. you climbed the same stump over and over like it was a castle.
when your parents sat down by the fire to talk and laugh, the two of you built a tiny fort out of sticks and pretended it was a bakery. you made mud-pies and "soup" with leaves and pine needles, serving them to your parents.
on the second day, he grabbed your hand and tugged you toward the flower-dotted clearing near the edge of the forest.
"let’s play wedding," he said, eyes wide with excitement.
"what's a wedding?" you asked, blinking.
"it’s when you get married and be friends forever and eat cake."
you paused, then smiled. "okay, but i wanna wear a dress."
"you can pretend," he said, and gave you a little flower—a forget-me-not—clumsily plucked from the grass. he connected it and pushed it gently onto your pinky.
"this is your ring. it’s magic, so you gotta keep it safe."
you held it up like it was made of diamonds. "now we’re married?"
he nodded seriously. "yes, i’m the prince and you're the princess."
he picked up a stick from the ground, not too long, with a bend at the end and held it up like a wand. "we're married now," he declared, puffing out his chest. "the spell is complete!"
"what kind of spell?" you asked, eyes wide.
"a forever spell," he said, matter-of-factly. "so we can be best friends and play every day."
he tapped your shoulder with the stick like he was knighting you. you giggled and grabbed a twig of your own, mimicking his movements.
"and now i crown you king of mud pies," you said.
he burst out laughing. "then you're the queen of tree forts!"
you both laughed so hard you ended up collapsing into the grass, side by side, staring up at the patches of blue sky peeking through the branches. a dragon-shaped cloud drifted by, and you pointed at it at the same time.
"jinx!" he yelled.
and then you raced to see who could reach the stump first, already forgetting who won last time.
that night, you sat beside him by the campfire. he gave you the last marshmallow.
but by the third morning, his family had packed up early. you remember waking to find their tent gone, only an empty space left behind. no goodbye. just the smell of burnt logs and the forget-me-not still tucked under your pillow.
after that you never asked your parents about him. not once. you only mentioned the campsite again when you turned eight, asking if you’d ever go back there someday. but when a new campsite opened closer to the town, just minutes away, your dad chose that instead. you never returned to that faraway forest again. you even forgot what it looked like, or what it was called.
life went on.
sixteen years passed. you were now in your third year of university. childhood felt like another lifetime, buried beneath the noise of lectures, parties, and leaving your hometown behind. you weren’t sure whether to visit your parents this summer, especially with friends inviting you on a beach trip. but in the end, something pulled you back.
it had been a year since you last saw your family, so you booked the trip home.
and that one decision , that small, almost random choice would change your life more than you could ever imagine.
the cab slowed at the familiar street. your parents' house stood there just as you remembered: a cozy craftsman-style bungalow painted in a warm, earthy yellow, with white trimming that caught the sunlight. it wasn’t grand, but it had the kind of comfort that hugged you before you even stepped inside.
you reached for the neatly folded cash, handed it to the driver, then stepped out with your single luggage and backpack in tow.
climbing the porch stairs, you opened the door slowly and peeked around the living room. there, by the kitchen counter, were your parents, sipping coffee and talking.
"i’m home!" you called out, voice rising with excitement.
your mom turned first, eyes lighting up as she put down her mug. "wen, sweetheart!"
your dad stood, grinning, as both of them pulled you into a hug. your mom cradling your face and your dad giving your back a pat so strong it knocked a laugh out of you.
"we didn’t think you’d come home this summer," your mom beamed. "we missed you."
"i missed you too," you said, pouting a little as your dad took your backpack and wheeled your luggage upstairs.
"come on now," your mom said, already walking back to the kitchen. "you’re just in time. we made breakfast."
you followed her, the scent of eggs and toast filling your nose, the warm kitchen light casting a soft glow over the countertops. you began to talk. about classes, your professors, the annoying group project that never ended, but somewhere in the back of your mind, the memory of that boy hung around.
soon enough, you and your parents had gathered around a peaceful dinner table. the clink of utensils and warm scent of seasoned steak filled the space as laughter passed easily between you and your dad, your conversations ranged from random stories to summer vacation plans.
"how about another camping trip?" your dad suggested, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of steak.
you shrugged at first, nonchalant. but then a vague memory stirred—of trees towering above your five-year-old self, of pine needles on your shoes, and a quiet little boy who'd once been your entire world in two short days.
"in that old campsite?" you looked up from your plate, browa lifted.
your dad shook his head, eyes still on the steak he was slicing. "nope. i meant the usual site, just a few minutes away."
you pouted a little without realizing, pushing peas to one side of your plate, then corns to the other. your parents exchanged quick, knowing glances.
"why?" your mom asked with a playful smirk. "do you want to go back there?"
you narrowed your eyes at her. "no, i'm just curious. we only went once."
"you know," your dad said, a grin tugging at his lips, "when we first and last went to that campsite, you were five. this small." he gestured with both hands beside him, chuckling. "there was this boy your age. he was the son of the couple in the tent next to ours. you two were like two peas in a pod!"
"oh, you even played weddings!" your mom added with a laugh, leaning back in her chair and dabbing her mouth with a napkin.
you listened, smiling as the memories slowly began piecing themselves together— images of flower crowns, tiny feet running across crunchy leaves, and a shy boy with black clothes and quiet voice.
"really?" you asked, leaning forward with interest.
"really," your dad nodded. "and the boy even gave you—what's it called again?"
"myosotis," your mom answered. "forget-me-nots. he put one on your finger like a ring."
you couldn't help the small laugh that left your lips. "that's actually kind of sweet."
just as you were about to say more, your mom's face lit up as something clicked in her head. she stood up with a sudden spark of excitement. "oh! we figured you'd eventually ask about it when you got older, so…"
she walked over to the living room and opened one of the cabinets near the back. you turned slightly in your chair, watching her rummage through the rear shelves until she pulled out a small wooden box. she brought it back and placed it gently on the table.
"we had one flower preserved in resin," she said, flipping open the lid.
inside was a silver ring. at the center was a smooth resin dome, and nestled perfectly inside was a single blue forget-me-not.
your eyes widened as she placed it into your palm. "thank you!" you grinned, slipping the ring onto your finger. it was adjustable, and it fit just right.
you held your hand up, admiring the little flower frozen in time. "this is really pretty."
"told you," your mom said, giving your dad a nod as they both watched your reaction.
as you closed the box and placed it beside your plate, you suddenly remembered what you meant to ask earlier.
"by the way… what was the name of that campsite?"
"camp windlow," your dad replied.
you hesitated, then asked, "mind if i spend a day there?"
they both nodded without hesitation.
"go on," your mom said. "just don't forget to come home and spend the rest of summer with us."
you smiled, feeling the ring on your finger—light, and comfortable. "i won't."
the next morning, you got up early, only to find your father already awake in the kitchen, sipping coffee and flipping through the newspaper. you had planned on taking a cab, but the moment he spotted your packed bag, he stood from his seat with a familiar look that said "you're not wasting money when i have a perfectly working car."
so instead, you found yourself in the passenger seat with one large bag, a singular tent, a portable table, and just enough food for a night. your dad drove you through the winding, tree-lined roads until you reached the trail entrance. he pulled over by the wooden gate and waved you off with a smile as you stepped out.
"call me if anything," he said as you nodded. waving before driving away.
you turned toward the gate. it stood quietly in the midst of trees, like a threshold between now and then. off to the side, an old but well-maintained wooden sign read: camp windlow trail
you noticed a bus parked nearby, likely for a group of students already at the site. you gave it a passing glance before starting up the trail. it was a short hike. just a few minutes, and then you saw it another wooden sign greeted you at the clearing, nailed to a tree: welcome to camp windlow
the space opened up into a cozy camp ground, surrounded by cabins and a cluster of trees. off to the side near the entrance was an old camper van with a sign hanging beneath a shaded awning: camp host.
you made your way to the rv’s side window. the soft crunch of leaves beneath your shoes was the only sound. you tapped the small bell on the built-in counter and tiptoed to peek through the screen, but the space inside looked empty.
just as you were about to turn around, you caught movement in your peripheral. a tall guy near one of the cabins—mid-conversation with a student—looked in your direction. he said something to the student, nodded, then jogged toward you.
"good afternoon, miss. welcome to camp windlow," he greeted with a small nod.
his dark, tousled hair fell over his forehead, framing gentle features. his eyes had that warm, sleepy crescent shape when he smiled. he wore a loose, off-white baseball jersey with thin black pinstripes, and beneath it, the collar of a black shirt peeked out.
"hi, uh—yes. are you the camp host?" you asked.
"yes, miss. sorry i wasn’t at the station. some students needed help with their cabins. i’m the only volunteer on duty today," he said, voice soft and low like it could disappear if you weren’t listening close enough.
you gave a small nod. you had more to ask, but decided to keep it simple. "i just wanted to check where i can set my tent up. i’m not renting a cabin."
"got it," he said, then gestured ahead for you to follow. "come on, i’ll show you the tent area."
you followed him past the cabins, toward a grassy clearing beneath tall trees. the space was flat and quiet, the sunlight filtering through the canopy tree above. you could see the river nearby, shimmering under the noon, and a small wooden shed sat near its edge.
"you can pitch your tent here. it’s a good spot. but let me know if you’d prefer somewhere else," he offered, pausing to look back at you.
"no, actually this is great already," you said, giving a casual wave of your hand.
"cool," he smiled, continuing. "there’s a water pump near the cabins if you need it. just a heads up—no wandering after nine."
you nodded, noting the direction he pointed in.
"thank you," you said.
"how many days will you be camping?" he asked.
"just a day."
"alright. i’ll log you in real quick so i know you’re out here," he said, turning toward the rv. then he paused, glancing back. "oh- and your full name?"
"wendelin hale." you replied.
he blinked, as if a bulb went off in his head before nodding, jogging back toward the camper van.
you dropped your bag down and took a breath, turning to look at the view of the river. it was quiet and beautiful. familiar in some way. you looked around, piecing together scattered memories, smiling to yourself in recognition. this might’ve been the exact spot where your parents had pitched the tent years ago. across from it was probably where the boy’s family stayed. and in that nearby park space where the two of you had played wedding.
you chuckled softly and wandered closer, tapping your hand against the trees as you passed, letting your fingers graze the bark like an old habit.
when you turned back toward your spot, you caught the camp host looking up from the logbook through the rv’s side window. he glanced at you. you smiled politely, and he returned it before lowering his gaze back to the page.
he looked out toward the area you’d just visited, staring for a moment with a knowing smile. then, he went back to work.
you unzipped your bag and pulled out the tent, sighing as you knelt by it. it had been years, and you barely remembered how to set it up. you fiddled with the poles and fabric, trying to recall the steps, but it quickly turned into a mess.
from the rv, the man noticed you struggle. he stepped out and jogged over.
"need help with that?" he asked.
you gave him an embarrassed smile and nodded. "yes please."
he smiled back and knelt beside the tangled tent, hands moving skillfully.
"i'm guessing this is your first time camping alone?" he said as he worked, not looking up.
"yeah, just a day of trip down memory lane," you replied, watching him work, trying to learn.
"places like this can really hold onto the kind of memories you want to relive," he said, echoing your thoughts.
"deep talk," you said with a faint smile.
before you knew it, the tent was standing, sleek and sturdy, a perfect black triangle in front of you.
"well, i could say i’m also here for a memory lane trip," he said, standing and dusting off his trousers. "there you go."
you nodded, impressed. "thank you."
"of course. miss hale, right?"
"yes," you replied, smiling. "but no need for formalities."
"just trying to stay professional."
"okay... sir—?"
"lee," he said. "anton lee."
"alright, sir lee," you chuckled.
anton smiled at that, then looked at you more closely. "you seem socially entertaining for someone camping solo."
you shrugged as you started setting up your small foldable table. "not really. i just prefer solo trips like this so i can unwind peacefully."
"fair," anton said, nodding. he stepped closer and unzipped the tent door, folding it up neatly to keep it open. "want help with the rest?"
"yes, thank you."
he helped you with your things in silence, arranging everything carefully. after a moment, you spoke again.
"you mentioned you’re here just for a quick nostalgia trip?"
"yeah, well… i figured i could also volunteer for the summer. extra credits for uni, you know," anton replied.
"oh, so you’re a student?"
"yup. just like those people over there." he nodded toward the cabins where students were busy setting up for camp. "and you?"
"i’m in uni too," you said.
"cool! just around here?" he asked as you both kept working on your setup.
"not exactly. my hometown’s a small town somewhere around here in oregon, but i study in portland. five hours away."
"you sound pretty established," anton smiled.
"not really," you shrugged, standing once you were finished setting up, noticing anton was done too. "still stuck here in the same state."
"hey, at least it’s something," anton said as he walked toward the riverside. you followed him, and together you sat in the open wooden shed.
"so, what about you?" you asked.
"really complicated," anton chuckled. "my hometown’s all the way in new jersey."
"that’s basically a plane ride away," you gasped. "how’d you end up here?"
"like i said, complicated. i just got back here after many years. i also decided to study around portland."
"and you volunteered as a camp host here." you laughed.
"obviously," anton nodded. "you know, you kind of seem familiar."
you looked at him, that same strange feeling rising inside you too. "yeah, you do too."
"what’s your name again? wendelin?"
"mhm, why?"
"nothing, just… i used to know someone with a similar name. well, not exactly the same, but she's called wen."
"that could be wendy or something else. wen’s a common nickname."
"i know."
"so, you think i seem familiar just because of my name?"
"maybe?" anton shrugged.
"well, you seem familiar too, somehow," you said, watching him, waiting to see if he wanted you to explain. "the first time i came here, i was about five," you started. "i had a friend, but i don’t remember his name."
"was it a girl?" anton asked.
"no, no." you shook your head, smiling at the memory. "we used to play a lot around here. we even played wedding. it’s cute but also kind of embarrassing. my parents teased me for it."
you looked down at your hand, twisting the ring on your finger.
anton noticed. "he gave me a forget-me-not flower ring. my mom even had it preserved in resin," you explained, showing it to him.
"eerie. i remember having the same memory," he said. "same place, same story. that’s why i came back here, to volunteer this summer."
"if i didn’t know your name, i’d swear that boy was you," you chuckled. "but i don’t think i ever heard the name anton back then."
"i get that," he smiled. after a pause, anton looked at you with a spark in his eyes.
"is it chanyoung?"
and as if remembering a song you've been searching for your entire life, it clicked in your head.
"chanyoung-ah, come here! it's time to eat!"
her mom's voice echoed in your memory. you could see him—five years old, turning to wave at you. his small feet kicked up dust as he jogged across the field to his mother’s table, where bowls of food are laid.
"come!" his mom then called out to you, her warm smile beaming under the shade of the pine trees. "wen? do you want to come over and eat with chanyoung?"
you’d nodded excitedly, cradling the bowl of leaf soup in both hands as you placed it carefully down by the tree where you’d been playing, then ran toward them with light steps.
you stared out at the river, its surface glinting under the sun. you smiled to yourself. a wide, happy, almost disbelieving smile, as your eyes visibly brightened up in recognition.
"chanyoung!" you beamed at him as he did too, his eyes crinkling with that same lighthearted smile. "since when were you anton?"
anton let out a chuckle, the corners of his lips curling into a smile that made your heart slightly jump. he glanced at you briefly before turning his gaze back toward the river ahead, hands resting loosely in his pockets.
"well, when we settled here in the u.s., i had to go for an english name. so, i pretty much went by my english name my entire life outside our house."
"i would've... never remembered." your voice came out quiet.
"that's on me," he replied with a smile. "it's nice to meet you again, wen. i kind of had a hunch when you started wandering off to specific spots here earlier."
you smiled to yourself, looking down shyly, hiding the stupid grin spreading across your face. you swung your feet a little from your seat, your heels lightly tapping the wooden platform beneath.
"so, that’s why you looked familiar. you still kinda look the same as when we were kids," you said, grinning up at him.
"well, you changed. your hair used to be some kind of lighter blonde and now you’re brunette," he pointed out. "but your eyes are still the same pretty shade of hazel."
"you remember that?" you turned to him, surprised, trying to keep your tone from sounding too delighted.
"of course." anton sighed before hopping off the seat. "you wanna walk around?"
you hummed and then nodded, hopping off your seat too. leaves crunched beneath your shoes as the two of you wandered off, the camp fading behind you as you stepped deeper into the quieter parts of the grounds.
you and anton walked around the wide area, the soft rustle of wind through tall grass and tree branches filling the silence between your conversations. every step brought you to an old spot. you even unlocked more memory you've completely forgotten. thanks to anton, who seemingly had remembered everything.
"that’s where you scratched your knee," anton said, pointing toward the root of a large tree, half-exposed in the dirt. "you tripped there. i thought you were gonna cry but you laughed."
you furrowed your brows for a moment, but then a smile bloomed across your face. the picture came back to you—your five-year-old self giggling with a scraped knee and grass in your hair.
"wow, you remembered again?"
"of course," anton nodded, walking beside you, relaxed. "i considered you as someone important in my life. you were also my first friend back then. i never really interacted with anyone as a kid, but you didn't scare me, and i found a friend in you."
your heart warmed at anton’s words. you looked down for a moment, suddenly feeling a little guilty. not for forgetting completely, but for remembering less than he did.
"i’m sorry i couldn't remember a lot," you said.
"don’t be sorry for anything." he waved his hands dismissively, his voice light. "if anything, i should be sorry for suddenly leaving."
you turned your head slightly toward him, curious.
"we were five and things happen," he continued. "the babysitter of my younger brother who's a baby that time called my parents that day, saying he got sick and was hospitalized. so we had to go back home earlier than we planned to."
"that’s okay. i understand." you paused, then looked up at him with a smile that tried to push away the lingering guilt. "well, at least we’re here now again, right?"
anton looked at you with soft eyes, his expression calm before nodding.
"i hope i don't come off as weird but—" anton paused, stopping beside the path. his voice dropped to a murmur. "i feel... unexplainably comforted. happy, even. you're the reason i came back here."
you looked at him closely, eyes searching. his gaze never left yours.
"why?" you asked. "is it really that important to you?"
you waited for an answer, but instead, anton simply exhaled softly through his nose and offered a lopsided smile. "it's almost sunset," he said, glancing toward the golden sky. "you shouldn't miss the view from your spot." then, without another word, he turned and walked back toward the main site.
that evening, the two of you sat on the log seat beside the crackling campfire. a few snacks between you, and hours spent sharing stories from your shared childhood. you told each other what life had become. he shared that he'd taken up swimming in university, dabbled in instruments, and, at his core, remained the same introverted boy you remembered.
anton didn't seem surprised when you told him you'd become an art major and that you had a decent circle of friends.
"i always knew you'd be an artist. you used to draw cool things for me, remember?" he paused, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "i still have them, actually. my parents kept a box of my things. your drawings are in there."
as the night wore on, you realized how naturally your bond had rekindled. anton had always been interesting and it became clear that the years hadn't eroded what once connected you. you both laughed, talked, and forgot about the time.
you looked at him with guilt simmering behind your words. "i hope you don't think i saw you as someone unimportant."
anton smiled gently, reaching out to pat your shoulder. "i never did. because if you did think of me as someone unremarkable in your life, you wouldn’t have bothered coming back here..." he then nodded toward your hand. "...or wearing that flower ring again."
"and..." he spoke again, but then hesitated, as if something weighed on his chest. "and it's getting late," he said instead, standing up. "i should head back to the van."
you didn't push as you just nodded. "do you want to exchange contacts?" you offered, standing up as well.
"that'd be nice," he said, pulling out his phone. you exchanged numbers, and the night passe from there.
in the morning, you got up early. students were already busy around the campsite as you sipped on a warm coffee. you looked over at the van and saw anton setting up his things. you smiled at each other.
"good morning!" you called out.
"good morning," he called back. but you didn't hear him. you only saw the shape of the words on his lips. you smiled anyway and went on with your day.
anton went to his daily morning work, while you joined a group for exercise. later, you packed everything up. new clothes on, your tent dismantled and tucked back into your tent bag. it was time to leave.
anton approached, his morning work done. "leaving already, i guess?"
"yeah," you smiled tight-lipped, slightly disappointed. "told my parents i'd only be out for a day. my dad's picking me up too."
anton nodded in understanding. "i already have your number, so i don't think there's anything to be sad about."
he helped with your bags until your phone buzzed with a notification from your dad—he was near.
"i should get going," you said, sliding your phone into your jeans pocket.
"i'll walk you down," anton offered.
he lifted your tent bag and your folded table while you carried your own backpack. the walk down the trail was peaceful, though the thought of saying goodbye made your chest feel heavy.
by the roadside, anton carefully set down your things in front of you.
"let's keep in touch," you said.
"sounds nice," he replied. a second of silence followed. then, he spoke again.
"and—it is. it is that important to me because you promised me, and i held onto that."
you blinked, confused, watching as anton smile.
"you've forgotten," he said. "but the evening before the morning we left, you told me something by the riverside."
he looked down briefly, then up at you again.
"you promised that you'd see me again. that we'd be friends forever—because we're married."
anton laughed a little.
"and... i'm happy you didn't break it even though you forgot about it."
the memory then struck you like a spark to dry wood. your small pinky held out to his.
"when we get home, i’ll see you again no matter what. because if we’re married, we’ll forever be friends."
the memory clicked into place like the last puzzle piece in a long-lost picture.
"i remember now," you said. smiling warmly back at anton.
then, a white car approached from the distance, pulling up just then. your dad rolled the window down, eyes landing on the two of you with a knowing, content smile as if he had seen this coming.
"did i make you wait?" he asked.
"just in time," you replied, opening the backseat door as anton helped load your things.
you then turned to him once more.
"i won't say goodbye."
"yeah. i won't, too," he said with a small smile. then, anton pulled you into a warm hug before letting go.
you opened the front seat door and got in. just before it closed, anton stepped forward.
"wen," he said, as you looked at him through the open window.
♫⋆｡♪ ₊˚♬ ﾟ.SERENADE OF SILENCE. ﾟ♬˚₊♪｡⋆♫ || 안톤 x fem!reader ||
⤷|: holyland - wave to earth
summary: after stirring awake due to the loud crashes of thunder outside your bedroom window, your boyfriend helps to fall back asleep with his calming demeanor
warnings: kisses, skinship, pet names
genre: fluff, established relationship
w.c: 400 (very short)
——————————————————————————-
the raindrops on the window were sliding down slowly, the rain creating a soothing sound. should be relaxing, right? wrong. the loud thunder crashing down every minute was much too startling for you. lying awake you stared at the ceiling above you, wondering how to fall back asleep without disturbing the person next to you. you tossed and turned, covered and uncovered yourself, you even make yourself a glass of warm milk. nothing was working. ultimately, you gave up and just accepted your fate of and energy crash the coming afternoon. that was until you felt anton lazily stirring next to you.
“hon? why are you still up?” he asked, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes.
“i’m fine,” you whispered “just go back to bed”.
“are you sure? you look really tired” he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest.
“was it the thunder?”
you nodded against him. anton always seemed to know what was bothering you whenever you were upset.
“i knew it,” he chucked, his chest vibrating against your cheek. “just relax, breathe, you’re safe with me, okay?” he pressed a soft kiss to your temples, cheeks, nose, and finally-your lips. his fingers found your hair, running through the strands gently.
you melted into his touch, instantly feeling your eyelids grow heavy. your arms found their way to his waist, they wrapped around him as if he could disappear at any moment.
“you scared?” he questioned.
“a little, the thunder is just so loud..” you sounded soft, like something anton wanted to protect with his life.
“shhh, it’s okay now, i’ve got you” he peppered kisses across your face
as the thunder calmed down, so did you. anton stroked your back slowly, ensuring that you were comfortable enough to doze off again. you closed your eyes, listening closely to the sound of his heartbeat. the sound calmed you more than anything, the knowledge that he was there now, holding you in his arms here. the two of you together.
finally, your breathing started to even, your body relaxing as you fall asleep in anton’s arms. he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, gentle not to wake you. he leaned in close and gave your cheek a soft kiss, whispering in your ear,
“i love you so much honey, sleep well.”
and with that, the two of you were resting peacefully in each other warm embrace. a serenade of silence.
