sfw (tho slight suggestive at the end) [kinda wordy i got away lmfao] 1510 words.
- you don't really like the idea of flirting or being in a relationship with a friend from the same circle
- but all of a sudden, someone is changing that narrative. that someone = anton.
- basically, you've been in the same circle since freshman college. the circle has its own ~sub-units~, as to what your friends would like to call them. anton is usually with sohee and the guys yada yada
- it all started at a drinking game during wonbin's birthday
- everyone was asked who's their type in the circle; everyone answered safely and with no malice, some answering none. but alcohol got to you and you just blurted out anton's name in response to the question.
- everyone was silent. the actual guy named anton took a shot and returned your name in response to the question.
- everyone cooed, everyone cheered. but there's a certain shared atmosphere with anton that suddenly became too thick that night.
- after that night, anton suddenly became flirty with you. initially, you just saw it as a normal thing. he's like that—a gentleman and a sweet guy.
- it all officially started when he would randomly message you or send you tiktok and instagram reels. you went from nada to having an ongoing tiktok streak of 35 already. ever since, both of you have established that he will facetime you as both of you study. sometimes, he's practicing a cello piece while you're stressed out with org work, but you never get annoyed
- oh, also, he would always sing to you as he practices with his guitar or piano. that's where you start getting annoyed... because you're definitely falling. lol anyway
- well, you could say your battery has already deteriorated from how you and anton would always go on a sleep call
- sitting next to you in hangouts, scooting closer to you on couches, opening the cap of your bottle, resting his shoulder on yours, quickly dropping to his toes to tie your shoelaces, cleaning your utensils when the circle decides to eat outside, explaining to you (in his soft-spoken voice) what the group was bickering about or what the boys were debating about, and so on
- one time, he insisted on having you on his lap during a car ride where only one person brought a car. so you spent an entire hour stiff and breathless as you were settled on his lap. well, sohee was on wonbin's lap. your other girl friend was also on another girl friend's lap... so being on anton's lap seems normal, right?
- his hands steady your waist, your back pressing to his chest when the car suddenly brakes. anton, on the other hand, swears he could smell you and would slightly pull you closer so you can be comfortable. he asks you from time to time to adjust and assures you not to hold back your weight
- the small moments shared and the subtle actions that make your breath hitch continue every day. you let him, though. you don't say anything. and it's just as bad how these lines are blurred. again, you guys have been friends for a long time...
- it's all about the longevity and comfort you guys shared. LMFAOO you try to convince yourself that way
- but those aspects suddenly blur out when it's only the two of you studying together at the library and throwing flirty punches at each other.
- anton's sentences would often start or end with him referring to you as "pretty," "babe," or worse: "baby." and worst of all, you just let him and don't police that habit...
- when everyone's hanging out at wonbin's house, he would suddenly sneak up behind you and lean on your shoulders. he'd compliment how you look and how he likes your scent. apparently, the anton lee likes giving back hugs... and likes being hugged every night...
- also maintaining eye contact while being across the table or sofas? and he would just smirk when you break the eye contact
- to say the least, even the most boring errands—like grocery shopping, buying stuff you need for school, or waiting in line at the hospital—felt so exciting because anton was your company.
- you'd say everything is normal until it's 12 am, and anton's sleeping soundly with his face on your neck, laying on his side clinging to your waist
- then came the days when he would tease you, or plague your late-night talks with "what if" questions
- "you're lucky you're cute." "if you keep treating me like this, i might fall." "what if i actually took you on a real date?" "what if we actually kissed right now? nah, i'm just playing."
- and telling any of your friends about all of this could be the dealbreaker. so both of you never did. hell, you and anton never even addressed this elephant you're nurturing in your friendship... setup.
- "best friends premium?" you shamelessly muttered to your close girl friends when they caught all those selfies of you and anton in bed, cuddling together. or even those photos when the two of you went for breakfast 'dates.'
- sohee mentioned one time to everyone that anton's wallpaper is a baby photo of someone. "oh anton-ah, you didn't tell us you're talking to someone! who is it?" anton remained quiet but he quickly glanced at you to see your reaction.
- you bit your lip, hiding your smile from everyone who was teasing him. it was your baby photo that he found so cute when you showed him one time. you didn't know that he actually took a photo of it. and made it his wallpaper. like fuckkk WAT DAT MEAN?
- you noticed that anton seems different and acts unusual when you're wearing his clothes
- he's flustered each time :p
- so, you steal some of his clothes and he just lets you...
- you swore you saw him bite his lip one time when you were just wearing his oversized hoodie and your sleep shorts
- the subtle (or not-so-subtle) tension that arises when your previous fling or ex situationship is in the proximity. or when you're suddenly clingy with one of your friends (he doesn't care if it's a girl or a guy... he knows you can bend all genders so all of a sudden he's sulky???)
- "i'm not jealous though," he states.
- "okay. i didn't ask though. wha- anton, can you stop pouting?"
- but he still wins because he's holding your hand as you two walk to your house after the hangout or after your classes. sometimes its his biceps you're holding when the two of you are walking.
- finally, your and anton's tiktok streak says 50. so, 50 days of ridiculousness already of whatever-this-is with anton. you have fallen already. definitely. you feel conflicted at the same time. and you hope he does, too
- the routine you shared was present daily and anton was consistent in either being the flirty friend or stirring your feelings. well, to be fair, he's a romantic guy...
- the flower vase in your room was never empty. when he comes to visit for a movie night or a study night or a sleepover, he's never empty-handed as he enters your door. there's always a bundle of fresh flowers from the supermarket in his hands. if it's a special day, they're from a flower shop :3
- your friends can't do it anymore. they have noticed, they pointed it out, they sometimes pretend not to know or care. but they're just tired of seeing anton and you dilly-dally and call it friendship
- one night, as you and anton were walking to his house from a nearby burger joint sungchan recommended, you felt like it was already time to address it. his hand was warm on your palm, and he's just grinning as he sways it playfully
- you stopped in your tracks. the moment you guys were sharing earlier and the quiet of the night made it feel like it was the right time. "do you think we should date?"
- "definitely."
- "cool."
- "yeah, yeah."
- it felt sweet and innocent even though you guys were quiet and red the whole walk back to his place. you guys weren't teenagers anymore yet you acted like it—
- acting all innocent after that declaration of affection and suddenly you're in his lap, hoodie on the floor, your fingers threading through his hair carefully, and his lips almost engraved in yours
- you pulled away, unable to breathe. he whines.
- "well, i'm sorry i don't have the lungs of a swimmer." you playfully rolled your eyes.
- he scoffs lazily, followed by a smirk. "my bad."
- "remove your shirt, lee."
- anton follows and went for a quick kiss then pulled away out of nowhere. he rasped, "you know what else i could dive into?"
- you and anton both slept very well that night
- the following day, he asked you out properly for a date with all the things you could ask for (yet you never did because he did it all naturally!)
Synopsis: You and Anton are enemies; the tension between you is constantly charged while competing, but when you're put in the same hotel for a competition, there's not much holding either of you back from breaking that tension.
WC: 5.8k
Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (don't do that), trash talk, dirty talk, competitive tension, sexual tension, swimmer anton, condescending Anton, kissing, bruising, fingering, anton is very well endowed, praise, slight degradation, profanity, begging, pet names (pretty girl, sweetheart, angel, etc.), breeding, creampie, overstimulation, forced orgasm, hinted somnophilia, lmk if i missed anything
A/N: First fic of the RIIZE masterlist, I wrote this a while ago, but I've been itching to share it. I'm very behind on my series, so I'm currently working on it...that being said...Idk when I'm gonna write my next RIIZE fic. Thank you, @midnighthazee, for beta reading.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅-`✮´-⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅
There were too many noises, the sounds of the whistle blowing through the air and the swimmers taking off into the water. There was chatter from each of the teams, making the environment seem louder.
Your coach turns to you to speak, getting his familiar pep-talk ready. “You’ve done this a hundred times. This isn’t anything new. Trust your start, keep your rhythm, and finish strong. You know you’re good — now just go out there and show it.”
You nodded curtly and walked over to your position, the tile beneath your feet is cold and slick with water, but you barely feel it. Your heartbeat is louder than the crowd now, thudding steadily in your ears as you step toward the block.
You exhale once, sharp and steady, then lift your gaze.
And there he is.
Anton is already at his block, rolling out his shoulders and infuriatingly calm – as he usually is before a race. His body is all lean lines and strong muscles, but tense. His teammates watch from behind him, trading jokes and last-minute advice, but Anton isn’t really paying attention to any of it.
He’s too busy looking at you.
It’s quick, a flicker of his attention locking onto yours almost like it's purely instinctual. His gaze makes a nauseous twist sit in your stomach. His lips lift just barely, an infuriating smirk on his face. Provoking you.
Maybe it was a challenge, maybe an invitation for something else. You couldn’t tell. You never could with him.
You force your chin up, refusing to be the one who looks away first. Not today. You held his gaze, refusing to let the flicker of smugness in his eyes burrow further beneath your skin. Anton didn’t blink, didn’t look away, not even when the starter's voice rang out in the humid air calling your attention.
His eyes narrowed slightly, sizing you up – likely to see if you were the same girl he had beaten last month. He seemed to think he had you all figured out when he broke his gaze and let out a little chuckle to himself.
The air was thick with the smell of chlorine and the adrenaline coursing through you.
The whistle blew, the shrill sound cutting through the strong tension between the two of you. You got into position, your muscles coiled tight and ready. For a half-second, your focus drifted back to Anton, the cocky little tilt of his head and the flex in his own muscles as he took position.
The buzzer sounded.
You launched yourself, the world narrowing down to the rush of air and the cold feeling of the water on your skin.
______
You barely had time to breathe and relish in your victory before Anton found you by the bleachers with your team. He started making his way over with the same infuriating smirk that was always on his face. Your skin was still wet as you met him halfway, not wanting your teammates to hear the bullshit he was most likely about to say.
“Congrats,” he drawled, voice low. “Didn’t think you had it in you. Must’ve been luck, hm?”
Gosh, he was insufferable. Your cheeks felt hot.
You glared, pretending you didn’t notice the way his gaze slid over you. You also pretended you didn’t notice the way your skin prickled, blaming it mostly on the water giving you temporary hypothermia.
“Luck?” you scoffed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “You can call it whatever you want.” Your voice surprised you – a little more breathless than you intended, but solid.
Anton stepped closer, his presence cutting off the noise of the pool and the shouts of your teammates. You could smell the hint of chlorine and his body wash still clinging to him. For a second, you wondered if anyone was watching from the bleachers. If they could see your tense body language. It would be just your luck to have someone catch you even slightly flustered.
“Or maybe you’ve just been watching me too much,” you added when he didn’t respond, your chin lifted.
His mouth curved. It was most definitely a challenge. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he said softly, but his gaze lingered on your lips. “I just like knowing you’re not as good as me. Makes it easier to win.”
He was so close now, the heat of his body radiant against your skin. Your heart hammered in your chest, and you could feel it in your throat.
You knew the smart thing to do would be to brush him off and walk away, remind him that he’s just a smug asshole who has nothing better to do than annoy you. But you didn’t. You stood your ground, matched him glare for glare, your lips tingling from the way his eyes kept sweeping over them.
“Oh is that what happened today?” you sneered, the words coming out lower than you intended. “Becuase it looked like you were chasing me for a while there. Couldn’t catch up?”
He laughed, but the sound was softer than you’d expected. You saw his jaw flex, and for a moment the competitive edge in his eyes shifted to something else. Something heavier, darker, and more personal.
Before you could analyze the look in his eyes, your coach’s voice sounded in your ears, telling your team to pack it up so that you could head out.
Anton blinked slowly, a lazy grin curling at his lips before he stepped back, leaving you with your pulse jumping and a flush high on your cheeks. You turned and walked away, not daring to look over your shoulder even though you could feel his eyes burning between your shoulder blades.
Your team packed up, voices buzzing with post-race adrenaline and stupid gossip. The van ride back to the hotel was a blur of tired limbs and damp towels. Only when you stepped into the lobby did you realize Anton and his teammates were sprawled across the armchairs in the lobby, looking perfectly at home.
Of fucking course. Just your luck.
Your team found their own places to sit while your coach checked you in. You didn’t dare go anywhere close that asshole, but you could feel his heated gaze on you, never leaving.
Your coach walked back up to your group and started handing out room keys.
“Now, since there’s an odd number of us, someone gets their own room.” He grunted out. Your other teammates immediately started asking for it, not wanting to share a room with anyone else. You were too distracted by the gaze on you to partake in the begging.
“Now, now, I’m giving it to our winner for today. She deserves it.” He said, handing the key out toward you and snapping you out of your daze. You smiled tightly and took the key card from him, your other teammates jokingly booing at you. You laughed and flicked some of them off.
As you and your team walked up to your floor, you still felt those eyes on you, except this time you didn’t acknowledge him.
You made your way down the corridor, damp hair still slinging to your neck, the low hush of your teammates' voices fading behind you as you drifted further from their cluster. The key card was thick between your fingers and you spun it around and around, unable to keep the restless energy from your hands or the sense of being watched from crawling up your spine.
You told yourself you didn’t care. You had beaten him. You’d gotten the solo room. He could look all he wanted.
The hallway was quiet, carpet muffling your footsteps and the air thick with the lingering scent of pool chemicals and the faint trace of someone’s cologne. Maybe his. You shoved that thought right back down where it came from and pushed your door open.
The room was bright, a single bed crisply made, and silent except for the echo of your heart in your chest.
You kicked your shoes off, dropped your bag by the desk, and peeled off your jacket. The adrenaline from earlier was still slightly there, and you sighed as you checked your phone for any new notifications.
The knock at the door had your head snapping up from your phone to the door.
They’re already knocking at the door? You saw them two minutes ago.
When you got to the door you pulled on the handle and opened it, ready to make a teasing remark at your teammate about already missing you. Only it wasn’t your teammate. It was Anton.
He stood in your doorway, as if he belonged there. As if he’d been invited, when you both knew he hadn’t. He filled the space with unapologetic energy, one arm braced casually against the doorframe, his body still lean and strong and his hair slightly darker, like yours, from lingering moisture. The smell hit you: chlorine, the clean scent of his bodywash, and that cologne, subtle and sharp and unmistakably him.
You blinked. For a breathless second, neither of you spoke.
He smiled, slow and deliberate, with a hungry, slightly amused glint in his eyes. “Expecting someone else?” His voice was deep, edged with laughter.
You leaned your shoulder against the door, half blocking his view of the room. “You must be lost. The asshole convention’s down the hall.”
He huffed a short laugh, not moving. “I thought I’d congratulate you properly.” His eyes flicked from your face to your neck, to your collarbone. You felt the heat of his gaze like he was physically touching you. For a second, neither of you moved. The air between your bodies felt charged, riddled with tension and something else you couldn’t and didn’t want to name.
“Funny,” he said, his voice lowering. “But I’m right where I want to be.”
You rolled your eyes, but the gesture felt weak even to you. Up close, his presence was suffocating. The width of his shoulders blocked out the hallway light. His arm, still braced against the doorframe, caged you even as you stood your ground.
“Congratulations delivered. You can go now,” you said, keeping your tone even, your chin up. But you didn’t close the door.
He tilted his head, studying you, and you realized he saw right through the confidence act. “You always this polite to your fans?” he asked, and the words made your skin crawl with irritation.
But you didn’t take the bait. Instead, you fixed him with that look you’d perfected over the years of racing side-by-side – sharp, unimpressed. He leaned in, just enough that you could see the pretty shade of brown in the details of his eyes, and for a moment you allowed yourself to breathe him in.
“Only the ones who lose as pathetically as you,” you shot back, the words coming out huskier than you meant. It was impossible to ignore the way his eyes darkened at that, the twitch of his jaw as he processed your nearness. He was so close you could count the freckles across his collarbone, could see the way his throat worked as he swallowed.
He didn’t move back, but stepped closer, shifting his weight so that his hips brushed the edge of the door. His arm remained above your head, effectively pinning you in place, but you didn’t shrink away. You could feel the tension in his stare.
It vibrated between you, not quite touching, but almost – like electricity.
You licked your lips. His gaze tracked it, sharp and intent. Every sensible thought in your head told you to make a snarky comment and slam the door in his face, but you just… didn’t. Maybe you liked the way the air got thick when he stepped this close, the way his voice dipped when he spoke to you, just for you. Even if every word was meant to rile you up.
You wondered if he could see your pulse beating in your throat. It felt obvious, loud, like it was beating for his attention.
Anton dropped his face a little nearer, the shadow of his jaw cutting a clean line only inches from yours. “Go on, then,” he murmured, voice low. “Prove you’re better, yeah?”
The words set something wild loose in your chest, and you felt something pulse inside you. You should’ve laughed. You should’ve pushed him out, locked the door and gone straight to the shower and then to bed. But here you were, pulling him into your room and slamming the door shut behind him.
He barely had a chance to react before you shoved him back, hard, the force of it sending his spine gently to the wall. You caught the flash of surprise in his eyes, but it only made his mouth curve higher. For a second, neither of you moved; you just stood together in that bright, silent room, close enough that your breaths mingled and the tension between you felt raw and almost physical.
He looked at you, really looked, heat pooling in his gaze, and you realized with a fierce jolt that he wanted this as badly as you did. You pressed forward, erasing the last bit of space, and kissed him.
It was nothing like you’d imagined—not soft, not tentative, but fever-hot and reckless, hungry and desperate and the taste of chlorine and him. He caught your lower lip between his teeth, sharp with need, and you felt his hands find your waist, fingers digging into your skin.
You let him, for just a moment, because it felt good and right and you wanted to hear what he’d do if you stopped pretending to hate his guts.
But you didn’t give him all the control – not for a second. You pushed up on your toes, kissed him harder, your mouth parting under his, and the soft surprised sound he made vibrated straight through your chest and down in between your legs.
His hands slid lower, splaying over your hips and dragging you flush against him, and you knew he was just as breathless and done for as you.
He kissed like he competed: relentless, greedy, all-consuming. He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, not gentle, and he groaned against your mouth, one palm fisting the back of your shirt to pull you impossibly closer.
The tension was so messy, and when your fingers tangled in his still-damp hair, tugging, he broke away just enough to let out a shaky breath against your cheek.
You didn’t wait for him to say anything clever. You nipped sharply at his jaw, felt the muscle tense under your teeth, and heart the way his breath hitched. He chased your mouth, catching it again, but you tugged him back by his hair and continued your attack on his neck.
You could feel the coiled tension in Anton’s arms, the way his fingers curled possessively around your hips, and the way his mouth kept trying to find yours hungrily.
“Didn’t expect this to be your way of proving you’re better,” he said, a smirk on his mouth and his voice soft against your ear, “is it my turn yet?”
You scoffed, let your teeth find his earlobe for just a second, sharp enough to make his take in a harsh breath, before you eased back just barely enough to meet his eyes.
Anton’s hands tightened on your hips once more, bruising, like he was fighting the impulse to just take. The thought made you feel hot and dizzy.
You wanted him, you wanted this, and the need was suddenly so sharp it scraped through your composure. You dragged Anton toward the bed, not caring how graceless it looked.
His lips were on yours again, and your hands yanked desperately at the hem of his shirt. He returned the favor, fingers rough and greedy, hauling your clothes over your head and discarding them somewhere behind you.
Everything was teeth and tongue and fumbling hands, hips bumping against the edge of the bed as the both of you reached for each other's bare skin. You laughed breathlessly when you finally got his shirt off, immediately eating him up with your eyes. You saw him half naked during competitions all the time, but it was different in this context – almost like you were truly seeing him.
His eyes were devouring you. His hands were already sliding up to your chest, groping you as if he needed to touch every inch at once. You were pressed so close there was no space left at all.
You felt Anton's fingers drag down your stomach, a rough, greedy slide that had you shivering and arching into his touch.
“Look at you, already desperate for it,” he murmured, a smug, dark laugh pressed against your neck. He didn’t wait for you to respond, just slipped his hand between your legs, cupping you through your underwear. His fingers stroked you, slow at first, then harder, until you gasped against his mouth.
“Knew you’d be greedy,” he said softly. “Could feel you looking at me all day. But I didn’t think you’d be this fucking wet, sweetheart.” The words made you clench around nothing, not even able to form a response, and when he finally slid your panties aside and pushed his fingers inside you, you nearly sobbed.
He stretched you ruthlessly, thumb rubbing hard circles and making you squirm. He ran his other hand down to your waist, pushing down and holding you in place.
“Please, I need- please…” you begged, needing him inside of you.
His lips turned up into that infuriating smirk you love. He could tell you just wanted him to fuck you already.
“I’ve gotta stretch you out first, angel. You can’t take all of me without it.” He said, so soft it was barely above a whisper. You couldn’t catch the hint of condescendence in his tone, you were too far gone already.
You whined and whimpered until you felt pressure building in your stomach. Anton’s fingers kept their steady pace, his thumb working those intense circles on your clit until you shattered against his hand, his voice gentle and reassuring in your ear.
“That’s right, show me how good you are. Bet you’ve never cum this fast for anyone else,” he breathed into your ear, and the words burned straight through you.
You arched helplessly, muscles clenching around his fingers, your body already trembling with aftershocks and the humiliation of how easy he made it look. But you didn’t care – you wanted more, all of it, especially when his mouth found yours again, almost tender now, as if he was tasting just how desperate you were.
You barely registered the way he manhandled you up onto the bed, dragging you higher so you sprawled beneath him, your legs open and shivering as he slotted his hips between them.
You could feel his cock, hard and heavy, pressed right against you through his still-clinging briefs. He made no secret of how desperate he was, grinding into you just once, slow, so you could feel every inch.
You reached for him without thinking, your fingers yanking the waistband down, impatient, and he let you, watching you through his lashes, his eyes heavy and blown as you freed him.
He groaned softly, the pleasure in his eyes so vivid and unrestrained in the way he looked at you. You wrapped your fingers around him before you even thought about it, desperate to feel his weight and how hard he was for you.
Anton was so thick and hot against your palm, and his hips jerked forward, the motion desperate and hungry.
“Fuck,” he muttered, barely more than a groan, and you felt it everywhere, your body tightening with a new frantic need to have him inside of you.
He caught your wrist and pinned it above your head, holding you there with holding you there with unsurprising ease. It was primal, the way he wanted to control the pace, and the way he didn’t want to give an inch without making you work for it.
He finally pulled your panties off, your wetness sticking to them and making them practically see through. He threw them where his pants were on the ground, smirking at you. “I’m keeping those for later.”
You rolled your eyes and tugged at his shoulders. “Just fuck me already. Please I’m so…please, Anton.”
He bit his lip at the sound of his name, the way it rolled off your tongue in that needy tone, and he swore he would’ve snapped and eaten you up right then and there if it weren’t for his impeccable control.
“Say it again for me.” He demanded. He definitely wasn’t asking, and he made that clear through the look in his eyes.
Your own eyes fluttered, breath sharp in your chest. “Anton,” you repeated, and it came out just as thin and just as desperate as the last time. “Please. I need you so bad.”
He looked at you like you’d never been rivals at all m and stripped away the last inch of space between you bodies. His hips slotted flush against yours. He lined himself up at your entrance, dragging his cock up and down your cunt, lubing himself up with all of your slick. You could feel the thick head of his cock pushing, just barely there, not enough, just a tease.
He leaned over you, his mouth grazing the edge of your jaw, his voice hungry and rough.
“Good girl.” The praise seared through your nerves. “You want it so bad, don’t you? Want me to fuck you so hard you can’t stand tomorrow?”
You nodded, too far gone for words. He grinned that pretty grin of his – all teeth and dimples – and bit his lip.
He pressed into you. The slight stretch burned, his fingers only helping so much from how thick he was.
You gasped, the sting of the stretch punching the breath out of you, his cock pressing into you slow and relentless. Anton watched you with a dark, greedy intensity, like he was cataloging every twitch, every whine, every whimper. He eased forward, sinking deeper, the drag of him inside you obscene.
Your thighs were shaking from how good he filled you up. His grip on your waist was bruising, and somewhere in the back of your mind you hoped the marks would show for more than just a few days.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, his forhead pressing to yours. You could feel him trembling slightly, his restraint becoming thinner and thinner. He wasn’t gentle, but he didn’t rush, letting you feel every deserved inch as he bottomoned out, hips flush to yours, bodies fused together.
You clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. He smirked, feeling your cunt squeeze impossibly tighter around him. It was taking every single atom in his body to not pound into you right then and there.
His hips have a shallow, testing thrust. The friction was dizzying; you arched into him chasing it, desperate for more.
“Look at my pretty girl, hm?” Anton murmured, voice thick with hunger. “Taking it so well for me.” His breath was hot against your cheek, his body bracketed over you. You wanted every bit of him. You wanted him to leave you shaking and full and ruined.
He pulled out to the tip, slow, and pushed back in so deep you thought he might be rearranging your guts. Each thrust was deliberate, hard enough to jolt the headboard and send a filthy noise into the echoey hotel room.
You clung to him, nails raking his shoulder blades, and he groaned at the sting, rutting against you harder. The world blurred to the heat of his skin, the weight of his body on yours, and the slick friction with every roll of his hips.
You tried to fight the sounds spilling from your lips, but it was useless – the moans, the needy, desperate whimpers. Anton ate up every sound, his mouth finding your neck, biting just enough to make you gasp and clench around his pulsing cock.
“Wanna fill you up so bad. You like this don’t you?” he panted against your throat. He was getting talkative, and that made you think maybe he was going to cum soon. “I know you do, baby. I know.”
You shuddered, unable to hide it, your legs locking hard around his waist. You wished you could say something – beg for something, dirty talk to him too – but nothing was making its way out of your mouth except the punched out little moans from his deep thrusts.
The sound you made on a particularly harsh thrust was almost embarrassing, but Anton drank it in, his hips grinding deep and slow, the drag thick and obscene. He kept you pinned with one big hand, the other moving possessively over your throat and jaw. Not tight, just enough to remind you who had you, who was inside you, stretching you so wide it left you breathless.
“You’re so needy for it, fuck. You keep squeezing me like that, I’m gonna cum.”
You tightened around him again, just to feel how his hips stuttered inside you, his control fraying with every wet, slick thrust. You wanted to see him lose it, wanted to ruin him the way he’d already ruined you, so you let your hips rock up, catching the thick grind of his cock just perfectly. The sound he made was so raw, desperate.
“Yeah?” you whispered, voice trembling but so fucking proud. “You gonna cum inside me, Anton?” You said his name like a taunt – or a promise – your lips brushing his jaw, your tongue flicking out to taste the salt and sweat where his pulse pounded.
“Angel,” he gritted out, mouth hungry on your neck. “You feel so good, you have no idea.” He moaned, hand tightening at your throat just slightly, his big palm spanning across your jaw and cheek as he fucked into you rougher, harder, like he needed to imprint you on every part of his body.
Anton’s other hand tightened on your hip, possessive. “You gonna take it for me?” he rasped against your mouth, his breath coming out in rough pants. “Let me fill you up?”
You nodded, dizzy, your entire body strung out and your mind gone with all of your thoughts.
He watched you through hooded, hungry eyes, the lines of his face sharp with focus and something primal. He wanted you full and messy and gasping, and he wasn’t shy about it. With every thick, punishing thrust, he brought you closer to the edge, body pinning you hard to the mattress, his voice rough, but with a certain softness to it, in your ear.
“That’s it, fuck…Let me feel you.” His hand slid from your throat to your jaw, his thumb pressing at the corner of your mouth, demanding, obsessive, yours to bite or suck or moan around if you dared.
You did, lips parting so he could press his thumb inside. You sucked at it, greedy, eyes fluttering shut from the obscene pleasure of being taken this way, and Anton nearly came inside you right then and there.
He swore, voice guttural against your skin, and the pace of his thrusts stuttered for a split second as you sucked at his thumb, greedy and shameless. He seemed to savor it, every slick pull of your mouth, and his hips surged forward with a new, frenzied need. The way he filled you was devastating and relentless – a slow, thick grind that made your entire body tighter in anticipation.
“Such a good fucking girl, hm? So pretty, so fucking needy for me.” he whispered, forhead pressed to yours, obsession and awe wound together in every syllable.
“Don’t stop, fuck, please- don’t stop.” You begged, your words slurring together and barely making it out of your mouth. You were so close to coming and you could tell it would be intense.
The tension inside you built sharp and unyielding, pleasure turning molten, until you could barely hold yourself together. Anton’s body pressed you down, thick cock stretching you so perfectly, and the bed creaked beneath every rough thrust. His thumb dragged out from your mouth, wet with your spit, and he pressed it to your lips, watching the way you chased the touch, needy and shameless.
The only sound in the room was broken breathing and the slap of skin, the wet pulse of your cunt around him, and the way you whimpered when he hit just right, over and over. You were making him lose his control and his restraint with every squeeze.
“Listen to yourself,” Anton panted, his fingers digging deeper into your hip. “You’re soaking for me, I can hear your pretty pussy leaking for me.”
You whimpered, the shameful sound muffled by his hand as your body seized suddenly, pleasure snapping so hard you almost sobbed. Anton felt you clamp down and only rutted deeper, his hips never faltering, cock grinding against the spot inside you with brutal, perfect certainty.
“Fuck that’s it. Knew you’d cum for me, but I didn’t think you’d fall apart this easy,” he taunted, voice rough, and his lips dragging a filthy smile across your jaw.
You couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, not when the aftershocks were already too much. Your thighs shook, muscles fluttering uncontrollably, but he didn’t give you a moment to recover.
Instead, his fingers slid down, rubbing your clit mercilessly, circling fast and slick and mean. You jerked, crying out loudly and trying to squirm away, but Anton pinned you flat with his weight, pushing harder. “Sensitive now, aren’t you? Bet you can’t take it, yeah?” he crooned, his hand working you while his cock drove in and out.
The pressure building in your stomach exploded again, your cunt getting even wetter, helpless under the overstimulation. Anton’s laugh was low in your ear as he forced you through another, even harsher orgasm.
You writhed, sobbing into his shoulder, everything inside you seizing hard as the orgasm washed over you, pussy fluttering and squeezing around Anton’s cock. He fucking loved it. You could hear it in the way he let out a ragged, triumphant sound. You could feel it in the way his hips ground deeper, reducing to let you go.
“Fuuuck, that’s it, just like that,” he choked, voice full of awe and hunger. “You’re milking me, sweetheart. Squeezing my cock so fucking perfect.”
You couldn’t breathe, your nails scraping down his back again as he pounded you through every single trembling aftershock. He didn’t show you any mercy, fucking you even harder, the slap of skin echoing in the hotel room, the sound obscene.
“Taking it so good, baby. You were made for this, weren’t you?” His hand slid up, cupping your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek and wiping your tears away.
And then he reached up, found your hands gripping tight onto the sheets, and tangled his fingers with yours above your head. His grip was so sure, so grounding, you would have gasped at the intimacy of it if you were present instead of your brain being so fuzzy.
His pace stuttered, and you felt him shudder above you, holding you through the way his body tensed, every muscle straining and trembling as he fucked you even harder, chasing his own orgasm.
“I’m gonna fill you up, just like you want, Angel. Gonna make sure you know just who you belong to.” he growled, voice harsh and shaking slightly. His cock throbbed inside you, thick and perfect and sensitive.
Your whole body arched to meet him, and you could feel his control slipping, unraveling right where you wanted him.
He slammed into you, harder and harder, his rhythm erratic now and his breath ragged at your ear. “Fuck, fuck, you feel so good,” he gasped, every word running straight through you. “You’re gonna take it, yeah? Gonna let me give you all my cum?”
You nodded, choking on a moan, your whole body seizing as his hips stuttered inside you one last time and he thrust into you one more time, his cock hitting so deep he touched your cervix.
The moan he let out was animalistic and guttural, filling the room with raw noise. His body trembled over yours as he came, cock pulsing inside you, spilling himself deep where you ached for it. You felt every spasm of his, and the way he ground his hips down to make sure you took every desperate drop, like he wanted to fucking drown you in it.
He stayed inside you, not loosening his hold on your hands, his forehead pressed into your neck and both of you panting like you’d just raced the length of the pool. Your whole body trembled, and you felt like the aftershocks were never ending.
You could sense he was about to pull out, but you needed to be close to him. You couldn’t let him go just yet – not when he had just filled you up like he was trying to impregnate you.
You freed your hands from his and wrapped your arm around his back, tugging him closer. “Don’t pull out. Wanna stay like this, want you to make sure your cum doesn’t go to waste.”
His cock twitched violently at that, and he let out a groan, his teeth gritted together like he was in pain. “Don’t say shit like that, Angel,” he said. It was already taking everything in him not to get hard again and fuck you through the night.
But you liked the way his pulse jumped under your palm, the way his cock twitched inside you, overstimulated but still greedy for more. You wrapped your thighs tighter around his hips, locking him to you and not letting a single drop escape.
You shouldn’t have said it, but you couldn’t help the way you ached, the way you’d take him over and over if he wanted. You wondered if he could tell, or if he’d just assumed you’d be done after that. But you weren’t. Every inch of you was perfectly sore, oversensitive, still trembling from the aftershocks of him, and yet, still greedy for whatever came next.
Anton buried his face in your neck, breathing hard. His cock throbbed once inside you, a deep, hungry pulse. “You’re trouble,” he muttered, that pretty smirk on his lips.
You stroked a slow line down his back. “If you get needy again…you can use me. Even if I’m asleep. Just wake me up, or don’t. I don’t care.”
His breath stuttered, and you felt the way his whole body tensed, the way his cock tried to harden inside you again at the promise. He pressed his lips to your jaw lingering there, claiming you with the press of his body and the heat in his eye.
“Careful,” he whispered, “I might take you up on that.”
And if anyone would have told you last week that you’d end up sleeping with Anton from the rival swim team you would have laughed so hard you probably would have suffocated. Because the chances of you falling into bed with that annoying asshole of a man? Impossible.
warnings : smut MINORS DNI, explicit content, big dick anton, size kink, praise kink, blowjob, deepthroat, gagging, messy oral, hair pulling, spanking, manhandling, rough sex, unprotected p in v, creampie, consensual filming during sex, possessiveness, soft aftercare
wc : 1,2k
the studio lights were warm and soft today, casting gentle shadows across anton’s face. you adjusted the collar of his oversized button-up, stepping back to check the frame through your camera. he had been modeling for your private page for months now, just a side project that started as fun between friends but somehow turned into something people actually followed.
“tilt your head a little to the left,” you said, snapping a few shots. the black hair he recently got suited him, but it was still his nose that always caught your attention. it was prominent, perfectly balanced with his sharp jaw and big eyes. it just… fit.
you lowered the camera for a second. “anton, i swear your nose is actually perfect. like it completes your whole face. it’s so distinctive but in the best way. most guys would look weird with it, but on you it’s… chef’s kiss.”
he laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck, but you noticed the way his ears turned pink. “you’ve been saying stuff like that a lot lately.”
“because it’s true,” you shrugged, smiling as you took another photo. “you look really good today. even better than usual.”
over the past week you had been complimenting him more openly—his nose, his proportions, the way certain outfits sat on his shoulders. nothing too crazy, just honest appreciation.
anton had started showing up early, hair styled neatly, picking outfits carefully even on days you didn’t have a shoot. he told himself it was for the content. deep down he knew it was for you.
the shoot went well. anton was professional as always, hitting every pose you asked for.
but halfway through you noticed it—the obvious bulge straining against the front of his pants.
he was hard. visibly.
you quickly looked away, pretending to adjust your camera settings while your face heated up.
“okay, i think we got enough,” you said after a few more shots, trying to keep your voice normal. “you can go change. i’ll start editing these tonight.”
“cool. thanks,” he replied, voice a little lower than usual. he disappeared into the small changing room attached to the studio.
ten minutes passed.
then fifteen.
you needed your phone to check the time and realized you had left it on the bench inside the changing room.
sighing, you knocked lightly.
“anton? i’m coming in real quick, i forgot my phone.”
no answer. you pushed the door open.
anton stood there shirtless, only in his boxers, the new jeans he was supposed to change into hanging loosely from his hips. his cock was straining hard against the thin fabric, the thick outline impossible to ignore.
he turned around at the sound of the door and froze.
“shit—sorry,” he muttered, eyes wide.
your gaze dropped before you could stop yourself.
he was big, long and thick, exactly the kind of proportion people joked about when they talked about his nose.
you felt your throat go dry.
“i’ll just… grab my phone,” you mumbled, rushing toward the bench. your camera was still hanging around your neck, lens bumping against your chest.
as you reached for your phone, anton’s voice stopped you.
“hey… can you help me with something?”
you turned slowly. he was still standing there half-naked, one hand gripping the waistband of the jeans.
“the fly on these is stuck or something. can’t get it closed properly.”
your brain short-circuited for a second but you nodded. “yeah, sure.”
you stepped closer. he was tall, towering over you in the small room. you tried to focus on the zipper, but your knuckles kept brushing against the massive bulge.
anton’s breath hitched. then he slowly rolled his hips forward, pressing himself against your hand.
you froze.
he did it again, this time more deliberately, grinding against your palm while pretending to adjust his stance for the “pose.”
“anton…”
“sorry,” he said, voice husky. “been hard the whole shoot. you kept complimenting me… my nose, my face. saying i look good. it got to me.”
your hand was still there. you didn’t pull away.
instead your fingers wrapped around the thick shape through his boxers, stroking slowly. anton groaned, head tilting back.
his nose looked even more perfect from this angle.
“fuck… your hand feels good,” he breathed.
you sank to your knees, heart pounding.
you tugged his boxers down and his cock sprang free—long, heavy, and flushed. exactly like you imagined. you stroked him with both hands, amazed at the size. anton’s fingers threaded through your hair gently at first.
“you don’t have to—”
you leaned in and took him into your mouth. he was too big to fit all at once, so you sucked on the head, tongue swirling while your hands worked the rest. anton moaned, hips twitching. you pushed deeper, gagging softly when he hit the back of your throat.
“shit— you look so pretty like that,” he praised, voice rough. “taking me so well.”
you bobbed your head faster, saliva dripping down your chin. anton’s grip tightened in your hair and he started fucking your mouth gently, then harder. your camera swung lightly against your chest with every movement.
after a few minutes he pulled you up, kissing you messily. “bend over the bench.”
you did, bracing your hands on the wooden surface. anton flipped your skirt up and pushed your panties aside. he rubbed his cock against your soaked folds before sliding in slowly, stretching you open. you moaned loudly at the fullness.
“so tight,” he groaned, bottoming out. “you feel incredible.”
he started thrusting, deep and rough, one hand on your lower back pressing you down. your camera dangled between your breasts. anton reached forward, lifted it, and turned it on.
the shutter clicked as he fucked you harder from behind.
“smile for the camera, baby,” he teased, voice playful but strained. he recorded a short video, the lens capturing the way your ass bounced against him with every thrust.
“these would look good on the page too. anton modeling his favorite angle.”
you laughed breathlessly, then moaned as he hit a particularly deep spot. “you’re ridiculous.”
“and you love it.” he smacked your ass lightly, gripping the soft, smooth skin. “been wanting this for weeks. every time you complimented my nose i got harder. stupid, right?”
“not stupid,” you gasped. “keep going—harder, pleaseee.”
anton obliged, pounding into you relentlessly. the sound of skin slapping filled the small changing room. he kept filming short clips, whispering filthy praise between thrusts. “look at you taking every inch. my perfect girl.”
your orgasm hit hard. you clenched around him, crying out his name. anton followed right after, burying himself deep and filling you with hot spurts of cum. he kept thrusting slowly through it, milking every second.
afterwards he carefully pulled out, turned you around and kissed you softly. the rough anton disappeared, replaced by the gentle guy you’d known for months.
he cleaned you up with a towel, helped fix your clothes, then hugged you from behind while you both caught your breath.
“so… still think my nose fits my face?” he asked, smiling against your neck.
you laughed. “more than ever.”
he took one last photo with your camera—just the two of you in the mirror, messy and flushed. “for the private folder,” he whispered.
you leaned back against his chest, heart full. what started as innocent compliments had turned into something much hotter. and you couldn’t wait to see what other “angles” you’d explore together.
@sacrificemura please do not copy, steal, repost, translate, or claim my work as your own. all stories and edits belong to me — ᨳଓ .
mdni!! cw: fempov! (reader is referred to as a girl multiple times) dry humping. reader has tits.
you were keeping him company whilst he worked. that's what you told anton when you climbed into his lap, fresh out of the shower in nothing but a tank top and a pair of panties. he'd smiled and obliged, of course.
why would he deny his sweet girl sitting close? even if it was too close and every breath you took made his dick throb in his sweats.
it wasn't like he could help it.. you looked so fucking beautiful in the dim light of the study.. hair dripping wet and damp lashes spiky.
"hey.. baby just sit.. still okay? i.. i can't focus when– " he started softly and cut himself off as he bit back a soft noise from the back of his throat. his eyes flicking away from the laptop that had half finished work open on it.
his big, warm palms came down to cradle your waist , making him swallow hard at the give of skin. "f..fuck.. like it when you're this close. you're so w..warm" he whispered. one thing about anton is that he loved to say how he felt in the moment , in his own gentle way that didn't mean to make your stomach turn the way it did.
you pressed your face into his neck with a silent huff that made him smile.. his lips kissing your jaw as you complained. "'s not.. like you're trying to focus baby.." you whispered.. your hips gave a gentle rock.. right against his aching, trapped length, squirming on top of him until he gasped lightly into your ear.
your body heated under his hands as he gritted out. "s...said you were gonna keep me company baby? keep me focused? this how you plan on helping hm?" his cheeks were flushed a delicate pink.. "bein.. so fucking mean" he whispered as he guided your hips into a slow, firm grind.
your lips parted with a moan and he leaned down to swallow it down in a messy kiss. his nose bumped yours and his hands tightened around your hips as he slid his tongue softly into your mouth.. he always tasted sweet, just like the strawberry mints he always liked to keep around. his breath came out in little gasps against your mouth as you buried hands into his hair tugging him closer as you rocked against him.
it was torture but fuck if it felt good.. his voice was barely coherent when he whimpered. "baby... f..fuck d..don't stop.." his lips pressed harder against your own.. his heart was pounding against your chest as his fingers trembled up to pull your top up and over your head.
anton's breath hitched harder when you leaned back just to show him your tits.. perfect as he gently squeezed them in his palms. his gaze held obsession..pupils blown wide and kiss swollen lips half open in moans whilst you grinded so sweetly on him.
his perfect, sweet girl.. making him feel so good he was gonna lose it in his pants like a virgin.
his moans became breathless.. head thrown back as he palmed your waist urging you faster.. drinking in the sight of you and the sound of your own whimpers mingling with his own. "o..oh mygod.. i'm gonna–" he trailed off.. biting his lip as he almost begged you to stop.. just so he wouldn't finish.
but instead all that came out was a desperate little. "fuck–!" as he trembled under you.. his chest heaving like he'd ran a mile.
you could feel the damp, sticky release between your legs, both of you warm from pleasure. your own panties were beyond help, soaked in your own slick and his desperate release as he surged up to kiss you firm and hard, whispering sweet praise. "you d...did so good baby.. c..couldn't help it.. 'm sorry".
you shook your head leaning down to kiss his rosy cheeks as he dragged a hand down his face ,mildly embarassed from cumming so quick.. practically untouched.
"mmh don't say sorry.. wanted to make you feel good anton" you whispered against his skin, making him smile into your neck where he had buried his face.
he wasted no time, hoisting you up against him and standing with a groan, despite the mess, as he held you tight.. still trembling from his orgasm. he spoke soft as ever. "fuck.. t's my turn okay? my turn to make you f...feel just as good as you made me. like you always do" his voice held promise and heat as he carried you to bed..and the same adoration that he always had for you.
content — headcanons, established relationship, college au, fluff, meet-cute, pining anton, nervous anton, first date, green flag anton, clingy anton, domestic fluff, studying together, taking care of each other, period comfort, matching keychains, obsessed with you anton, literally the best boyfriend ever
note — i need me a bf like him
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college bf anton
college bf anton who noticed you around campus months before you ever spoke. you were just there—in the library, at the dining hall, walking between classes—and every time he saw you, his heart did that stupid little flip. he never thought he'd actually get to talk to you.
college bf anton who bumped into you at the campus cafe—literally. you spilled coffee all over him and panicked, trying to wipe it off while apologizing a million times. he just stood there frozen because 1) you were touching him and 2) up close, you were even prettier than he remembered.
college bf anton who malfunctioned completely when you asked for his number. "I wanna buy you a coffee to make up for this," you said.
college bf anton who got all giggly and kicked his feet when you texted him the next day asking to meet up for that coffee redo.
college bf anton who still ended up paying for that coffee (he wouldn't let you, no matter how much you insisted) and somehow found the courage to ask you on a real date by the time your cups were empty.
college bf anton who was a nervous wreck before that first date. begged wonbin for fashion advice (wonbin rolled his eyes and helped him pick an outfit anyway). called shotaro for date tips (shotaro said "just be yourself" and anton almost threw up).
college bf anton who showed up to that first date with flowers and the biggest, most terrified smile you'd ever seen.
college bf anton who, after five dates, tried to ask you to be his girlfriend and fumbled every single word so badly that you just laughed and said yes before he could even finish.
college bf anton who plans a weekly date every saturday because you don't have classes and he wants to make sure you always have something to look forward to.
college bf anton who waits at your classroom door after your last class, even when you're not walking back together, just so he can see you for five minutes before you go your separate ways.
college bf anton who shows up at the library with food and snacks when you're studying, kissing your temple and whispering, "take a break, baby. eat something."
college bf anton who nags you to take care of yourself during busy weeks—"did you eat?" "when did you last sleep?" "please drink water, i'm not kidding"—because he loves you and someone has to.
college bf anton who sometimes forgets to take care of himself too, and looks up from his laptop at 2 AM to find you at his door with takeout and the softest eyes. "thought you might need this," you say. he almost cries.
college bf anton who sends you a selfie every single day you're not together. just his face, usually mid-laugh or making a stupid expression, with a text that says "miss u" or "thinking of u" or just "👀". and he demands one back every time.
college bf anton who secretly tracks your cycle on an app and shows up at your door on the first day of your period with chocolate, painkillers, a heating pad, and zero explanation. just "i brought stuff. let me hold you."
college bf anton who learned how to braid your hair because he got bored during a lecture and watched a youtube tutorial. now he asks to do it all the time.
college bf anton who has a photo of you in his wallet—the nice one you took together—and a goofy picture of you pulling a face as his phone lockscreen.
college bf anton who, once he got comfortable, would not shut up about you to his friends. wonbin knows your coffee order. shotaro knows your fav artist. sohee knows your favorite movie. they all know way too much. anton doesn't care.
college bf anton who sneaks into your dorm or apartment at least once a week because "i just missed you" and falls asleep with his face buried in your neck within minutes.
college bf anton who drags you to his friends' frat parties just to take you dancing—pulls you onto the floor, spins you around, tells you you're beautiful in your ear so only you can hear. it's how you both let off steam after hard weeks.
college bf anton who carries your bag across campus whenever he sees you struggling, slinging it over his shoulder next to his own like it's nothing.
college bf anton who gave you a plushie three months into dating and said, very seriously, "this is me when i can't be here. you have to take care of it." you sleep with it every night.
college bf anton who got matching keychains for both your university bags so everyone knows you're together. not that anyone needed the hint—he makes it pretty obvious.
college bf anton who keeps pda subtle—hand holding, arm around your shoulder, a quick kiss goodbye. but sometimes, when he really misses you, he'll pull you into a back hug in the middle of the quad and just stay there.
college bf anton who "accidentally" leaves his hoodies at your place so you have to wear them. you text him "you left your hoodie" and he always replies "i'll get it later." later comes, he stays over, and somehow the hoodie ends up back at your place again.
college bf anton who is so insanely proud of you it's almost embarrassing. you got an A on a paper? he's telling everyone. you finished a project? he wants to celebrate. you just existed today? he's still proud.
college bf anton who, overall, is just the best boyfriend ever. not because he's perfect—but because he loves you so visibly, so completely, that you never have to wonder.
∇warnings: fem pronouns, cursing, miscommunication, jealousy, + headcanons under the cut
➤ headcanons .ᐟ
anton.ᐟ who still remembers the exact moment he realized you had actually removed him from your life. when he noticed his messages stopped delivering, his stomach dropped. he stared at the screen longer than he’d like to admit, realizing that for the first time, you weren’t waiting around for him anymore
anton.ᐟ who learned the hard way that silence hurts more than arguments. that’s why now, even when something bothers him, he forces himself to talk instead of disappearing because he’d rather sound awkward than lose you again
anton.ᐟ who now barely notices other girls flirting with him because his attention always drifts back to you anyway
anton.ᐟ who realized he actually likes taking care of you. before, during the situationship phase, he acted cool and distant like nothing mattered too much. now he’s the one texting “did you eat yet?” or “did you get home safe?” without even thinking about it
anton.ᐟ who makes it obvious in small ways that you’re the only one he’s paying attention to. his hand finding yours without thinking, his arm resting around your shoulders when you’re sitting together, the way his eyes automatically look for you first in a room
anton.ᐟ who used to avoid labels during the situationship, but now if someone asks about you he answers without hesitation. “yn? oh she's my girlfriend!” there’s a little pride in the way he says it too, like he still can’t believe he gets to call you that
anton.ᐟ who never leaves your texts unanswered anymore. even if he’s busy he sends something quick like “in class rn but i’ll text you after” because the memory of ghosting you once and realizing you deleted him from your life still sits heavy in his chest
anton.ᐟ who reads your messages twice before answering sometimes because he wants to respond the right way, not the defensive way he used to
anton.ᐟ who sometimes looks at you in quiet moments with a kind of disbelief. like he still can’t believe the girl he almost lost is sitting right beside him
anton.ᐟ who sometimes remembers how things used to feel uncertain between you two. back then, neither of you really said what you meant. now when you casually call him “my boyfriend” in conversation, he feels this quiet warmth in his chest every time
anton.ᐟ who developed the habit of sending you random updates about his day. little things like “this song reminded me of you” or “got boba before class and it made me think of you” he just likes the idea of keeping you involved in his life
anton.ᐟ who noticed that you’ve changed too. you don’t bottle things up anymore. instead of pretending something didn’t bother you, you actually say it. and every time you do, he feels grateful you trust him enough to be honest
anton.ᐟ who sends “good morning pretty” texts so often that it becomes part of both of your routines. sometimes you wake up before him and send “good morning boyfriend” first, and it always throws him off in the best way
anton.ᐟ who still thinks about the night he begged shotaro to use his phone to text you. it was messy, and he was nervous, and he had no idea if you’d end up blocking shotaro as well, but that conversation ended up changing everything
anton.ᐟ who learned that second chances aren’t about pretending the past didn’t happen. they’re about remembering it just enough to do better this time. and every day he tries, in small ways, to prove that he means it
✸ ︎⠀⠀ .bf!riize x f!reader ! ⏜💬 𝓅ervy things your bf does . . . smut ( MDNI 18+ ) 𓂃 established relationships , perverted acts , masturbation , voyerism , somno , perv!riize , mentions of porn , strong language , explicit descriptions . wc 1.4k
୭౿ REBLOG FOR A HUG !
shotaro.
secretly takes pics of you
it started with something innocent, truly. you were laughing at something on your phone, early morning sunlight catching on your cheekbones, hair a little messy from sleep. and he thought, ‘god, she looks so pretty like this.’ so he took a picture. but then he couldn’t stop, and now he does it without thinking. (without you looking.) the way your skirt rides up when you lean over something. the curve of your back when you stretch. your thighs pressed together while you sit comfortably. his favorite, though? the one he snapped from the hallway last night. you in the shower, steam clinging to your body, head tilted back as you rinsed your hair. he hadn’t meant to stare. but his cock was already hardening in his sweats, the shape of your body seared into his brain. and later, when you were asleep, he laid there on the couch stroking himself to the sight of you behind the glass, lips parted, body curved and arched so beautifully. “shit, baby…” he whispered in the dark, voice breathless. “so pretty…always so perfect…” he finishes with your photo still open, cum spilling onto his stomach as he imagines taking the next one—this time, one that you would know about. one with his cock between your thighs and your eyes looking right up into the lens.
eunseok.
films your pussy as you cum
you were still shaking, chest heaving, body limp and spread out on the sheets. alternately, eunseok had his phone already in his hand, and was busy angling it low between your thighs. his voice is deep when he speaks, eyes glued to the phone screen. “just for me, baby…” because he knows you’re too fucked-out to move or oppose. he knows you’ll let him. “just so i can watch it again later, yeah?” he whispers. he watches the slow throb of your pussy as his own cum mixes with yours and slips out of you. your aching cunt catching the light perfectly and glistening on camera. he closely watches the way you clench around nothing, so messy and fluttering and just ruined from how good he fucked you. he zooms in. he wants to replay it when he’s alone. wanting to see your slick mixed with his up close. the twitch of your cunt. the way your body immediately misses him after he’s pulled out. it was something only for him to see. and under his breath, almost reverent, he praises, “so fucking pretty like this…”
sungchan.
searches for porn videos that have girls who resemble you
sungchan doesn’t even pretend anymore. doesn’t pretend everything he does isn’t revolving around you. doesn’t click random videos or scroll for variety. he searches you. your hair, your beautiful skin, the exact shade of your lips when they’re swollen from kissing. he types in everything he can that the website would take. everything he remembers from earlier—the color of your lingerie, the gloss you were wearing, everything. and when he finds her — someone close enough to help just once, he exhales like he’s been holding his breath all day. “yeah…” he murmurs, cock already in hand. “fuck, you look just like her…” he starts stroking slowly, hips twitching as the girl on screen moans. it’s not your voice, but it’s close. close enough for him to imagine your face twisted up in pleasure, body arching for him. “wish it was you,” he groans through gritted teeth, jerking harder. “wish you’d let me do that to you…” he cums with your name on his lips, face in his mind — not hers. spilling all over his stomach as the video plays on, completely ignored. because it was never about the porn, or the girl in the video. it was always about you.
wonbin.
sniffs your dirty panties
he yanked them off of you barely twenty minutes ago. red lace, damp with arousal, your little moans still echoing in his head. you’re in the shower now, not knowing he’s pacing the bedroom with your panties clutched in his fist. he sits on the edge of the bed, bringing them to his face, and moans the second your scent hits him. sweet, sharp, soaked. he buries his nose in the center, tongue darting out to taste the mess you left behind. “fuck, baby…” he groans, cock already leaking in his palm. strokes himself slow while his mouth stays on the lace, cock twitching at the memory of how wet you were for him. “still so fuckin’ sweet…” he whispers, licking once more before pulling them down, slipping the panties over the head of his cock. the fabric, still damp, stretched tight around his tip. it’s warm, wet, so close to the real thing. he whines through gritted teeth, fucking into the lace like it’s your pussy. like you’re still wrapped around him, moaning his name. he cums with a sharp gasp, spilling into the red lace, soaking it all the way through. lets it stay there, sticky and wrapped around him while he breathes heavy. he tucks the panties back into the dirty laundry, under a shirt, like nothing happened.
seunghan.
calls you just to hear your voice while he cums
“fuck…pick up, pick up—please…” you answer with a sleepy little “hello?” his head falls back against the pillow, breath catching deep in his throat. “baby…” he groans, voice thick with desperation, “i’m so close—just keep talking, yeah? just let me hear you…your voice makes me so hard.” you ask him what he’s doing, but he’s already falling apart. “’m jerking off to you,” he pants, “have been all night. needed to hear you. just your voice, that’s all i need—fuck, fuck—baby, need to cum…” you hum softly, innocent but now knowing. “mm, you sound so pretty like this, baby…” seunghan breaks on the last word, breath hitching as he spills over his stomach he cums hard, hot and messy across his fist, hips twitching while he moans into the phone. he can barely breathe, chest heaving, your name falling from his lips like a chant. then silence. just him panting ragged and the wet sound of his fist finally slowing down. “…fuck,” he murmurs, breathlessly and utterly wrecked. “you make me so fuckin’ needy, baby.”
sohee.
jerks off while you sleep beside him
you’re on your side, facing him. lips parted, tits spilling from your tank top with every breath, the curve of your ass peaking out from underneath the covers. so close he can smell your shampoo, see the way your thighs press together under the blanket. sohee tries to look away. he really does.but his cock’s already hard under the blanket, aching as he watches your chest rise and fall. he moves slowly, careful not to wake you. stroking his dick under the covers, eyes fixed on your chest, imagining sliding between them, fucking them while you moan his name. his brain blank with the mental image of watching you moan and squeeze them tighter around him. you shift slightly, a little whimper, and he nearly loses it. “shit…so perfect…” he whispers. he finishes fast. silently. hand over his mouth and cum spilling over his hand. he lays there ruined and sweaty beside you. you shift in your sleep, murmuring and completely unaware. he just swallows hard and stares at the ceiling, whispering, “i’m so fucked up…”
anton.
buries his face in your bra when he finds it in the laundry
he finds it in the laundry pile hours after you leave. soft pink, lacey, tiny bow in the middle, a little worn from being your favorite, or rather, his favorite. anton stares at it for a second too long, swallowing hard. then he’s sinking to his knees, holding it with both hands like it might vanish if he touches it wrong. taking it back to his bed, he presses the cup to his nose first. breathes the smell of you in like he’s starving. then his tongue glides over the lace like he’s tasting your skin through it, mouth working slow and filthy, hips already grinding into the mattress below him. he moans into it, imagining your tits in his face, how you’d whimper if he sucked marks into them. “fuck…you don’t even know,” he mumbles into the bra, thrusting slow, precum leaking into his boxers. “don’t even know what you do to me…” he humps the bed harder, whimpering now. face flushed and desperate, still shoved into the cup. “wish you were still here…” he finishes with the bra still clutched in one hand, cum staining his stomach, breathless and red-cheeked. he completely wrecked by something you haven’t even realized you left behind. afterwards, he lays there, panting, sticky and dazed, holding the lace to his lips with a secret he’ll never confess.
