viv ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

ﾟ☾.⋆───

[vivvangel]

𓏲ּ𝄢

𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝒶 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊

𓏲ּ𝄢

𖤐 viv.

𖤐 guidelines. | masterlist. | wips.

⋆ © @vivvangel, 2023.

[vivvangel]

can you write something with anton where they are friends but kinda in denial about their feelings/are too close to be like just friends and they are baking together and reader licks the icing from his finger add like tension and stuff idk how to explain 😭 (sorry if this is all over the place)

done, done, done !!!

read here: these cupcakes taste somewhat like . . . love !

[vivvangel]

JUST LET IT LOOSE — P.SH

synopsis: it's just not fair for your boyfriend, sunghoon, to wear the seemingly harmless but way too effective combo of gray sweatpants and a black tshirt.

› pairings & contents: park sunghoon x fem!reader, established relationship.

✧ warnings: tension, tension, tension ! SMUT. reader tries taking control but still, soft dom!hoon, blowjob (M receiving), teasing, praising, petnames like baby, angel and terms like good girl.

the kitchen sink was full of warm, soapy water, the only sound the gentle clink of plates and the hum of the evening rerun of dear x on tvn, from the living room tv.

you were in the middle of scrubbing a dish, your mind blissfully empty, when you felt him.

no sound, just a shift in the air. a warmth at your back. then his hands, settling on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. you didn't have to look to know it was sunghoon. you could feel him, the solid heat of his chest almost, but not quite, touching your back, the clean, subtle scent of his soap cutting through the lemon detergent.

you kept washing the pot. "you're in my way," you said, your voice aiming for casual and landing somewhere tight.

"am i?" his voice was a low murmur right by your ear. he didn't move. his breath ghosted over the shell of your ear, raising goosebumps down your neck. "you seemed distracted today."

"i'm not distracted. i'm washing dishes." your traitorous body was already reacting to his proximity, a slow, deep pulse starting low in your belly.

it was that time.

your ovulation phase, a fact your body screamed at you with every fiber, and he was here, in soft grey sweatpants and a worn black t-shirt that stretched across his shoulders, looking like every lazy, comfortable dream you’d ever had.

it was criminally unfair.

he knew this was the one outfit that drove you absolutely nuts on a normal day, and when you were ovulating? all kill.

"you’ve washed that same spot for two minutes," he pointed out, his tone infuriatingly knowing. one of his hands left the counter, not to help, but to gently push your hair aside, his fingers trailing down the exposed column of your neck. you shivered, the pot slipping from your grasp with a dull thud back into the water.

"sunghoon," you breathed, a warning that held no heat.

"hm?" he hummed, his lips now brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear. his other hand slid from the counter to your hip, his thumb stroking a slow, maddening circle through the fabric of your leggings. "you're all tense. thought you might need a break."

you were wound so tight you might snap. every instinct was screaming to turn in his arms, to arch into that touch, to beg for the friction you desperately craved. but a spark of defiance, fueled by sheer need, flickered to life.

he thought he had you pinned. maybe he did. but you could redirect this.

slowly, you turned off the tap and dried your hands on the towel beside the sink. you didn't turn around. you leaned back, just slightly, until your shoulders were resting against his chest. you felt him go still, surprised by the move.

"you're right," you said, your voice dropping to match his low pitch. "i do need a break." you turned then, finally, within the circle of his arms. you looked up at him, at his dark eyes that were watching you with intense curiosity.

you placed your slightly damp hands on his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath the soft cotton of his shirt. you pushed, gently.

he let himself be guided backwards, one step, then two, until his lower back met the edge of the kitchen table. confusion and desire warred in his expression. "what are you doing?"

"taking my break," you whispered, sinking to your knees on the cool tile floor.

his breath hitched, a sharp, audible sound. his hands, which had been resting lightly on your hips, now gripped you tighter. "baby,—"

you looked up at him from your position on the floor, maintaining eye contact as your hands went to the waistband of his grey sweatpants. the fabric was already strained, tented by his obvious arousal. anybody could tell he was big, it was just obvious.

you hooked your fingers into the elastic and the soft cotton of his boxers, pulling them down just enough to free him.

he was already fully hard, the sight making your mouth water. you leaned forward, nuzzling against the inside of his thigh first, inhaling his scent, drawing out the moment. you heard him suck in a shaky breath above you, his fingers threading into your hair, not forcing, just holding.

when you finally took him into your mouth, it was with a slow, deliberate swallow, taking him deep on the first try. a broken groan tore from his throat, his hips giving an involuntary jerk. "fuck," he gasped.

you set a slow, deep rhythm, one hand wrapping around the base of him to work in tandem with your mouth. you were in charge of this, of the pace, the pressure.

you lost yourself in the taste of him, the weight on your tongue, the soft sounds he was trying and failing to suppress.

but park sunghoon was, well, park sunghoon so his quiet dominance was never truly gone. it was in the way his grip in your hair tightened just so, guiding you to the angle he liked best. it was in the low, ragged praise he murmured down at you. "that's it, pretty… just like that, fuck— you take me so well. see baby? i knew you needed this."

his words sent a fresh wave of heat through you. you moaned around him, the vibration making his thighs tremble. you picked up the pace, your own need a throbbing, secondary beat between your legs.

you were doing this to him, reducing the usually composed park sunghoon to a panting, pleading mess above you.

his control began to fray. his thrusts into your mouth became less measured, more urgent. "angel, 'm gonna come," he warned, his voice strained. "you're gonna swallow every drop for me, right? take it all like a good girl, c'mon,"

it wasn't a question. it was a command, softly spoken but absolute. and you obeyed, hollowing your cheeks and taking him as deep as you could as he came with a guttural cry, his release hitting the back of your throat. you swallowed diligently, milking him through the last shudders until he was soft and oversensitive in your mouth.

you pulled back, wiping your lips with the back of your hand as you looked up at him. he was slumped against the table, chest heaving, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded as they gazed down at you with a look of pure, satiated awe.

slowly, he reached down, his hand trembling slightly as he cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your swollen lower lip. "come here," he murmured, his voice wrecked.

he helped you to your feet and pulled you into a deep, claiming kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. when he broke it, he rested his forehead against yours. "angel," he breathed,

you smiled against his lips, the tension finally broken, replaced by a deep, humming satisfaction. sunghoon had known his deadly combo was enough for you to go utterly crazy.

[vivvangel]

&team's cover of lovesong has me frothing at the month respectfully ❤️

[vivvangel]

it's wc szn i definitely need to write something related to wc....

[vivvangel]

THESE CUPCAKES TASTE SOMEWHAT LIKE . . . LOVE ! — L.CY

synopsis: somewhere between late night drinks & baking, your friendship with anton seems to be turning into something else entirely.

› pairings & contents: lee anton x fem!reader, non established relationship, bestfriends with tension

✧ warnings: tension, tension, tension ! bickering, anton is described to be bigger / taller than reader.

the air in anton’s apartment is warm and smells like vanilla and brown sugar. it’s a sunday afternoon, the kind of lazy, golden-hour stretch of time that feels stolen from the real world. you’re at his kitchen island, up to your elbows in flour, while he’s meticulously whisking a bowl of cream cheese frosting for the strawberry cupcakes you’d decided, on a whim, to make.

it’s a familiar scene. you’ve done this a dozen times, though it's your first time making strawberry flavored ones. studying here turned into napping here, which turned into cooking here, which settled into this: a comfortable, unspoken domesticity that neither of you ever questioned.

you’re just friends.

best friends.

the kind who have each other’s passcodes and spare toothbrushes and know exactly how the other takes their coffee.

"you’re getting eggshell in the batter," he says without looking up, his voice a low, amused rumble.

"— am not!" you protest, squinting at the bowl.

"there's a speck of eggshell, you dumbass. here." he abandons his whisking and comes around the island, standing so close behind you that you can feel the heat of his body through your thin t-shirt. he reaches around you, his long fingers plucking the offending white fleck from the yellow batter. his forearm brushes against yours. a simple, casual touch.

it shouldn’t make your breath hitch. but it does.

"see?" he murmurs, his voice right by your ear. he holds the tiny shell up before flicking it into the sink. he doesn’t move back. you’re hyper-aware of his presence, the solid line of his chest almost against your back.

"show-off," you mutter, focusing intently on folding the dry ingredients into the wet. your heart is doing a stupid, frantic rhythm against your ribs.

he hums, a non-committal sound, and finally retreats to his side of the island. the space feels colder. you watch him resume whisking, his brows furrowed in concentration. the fading sunlight from his big window catches the dusting of flour on his dark hair, the line of his jaw.

he’s beautiful.

it’s a thought you shove down immediately.

friends.

the cupcakes go into the oven, and the real waiting begins. you clean up in a comfortable silence, your shoulders brushing as you pass the dishcloth back and forth. it’s too easy. that’s the problem. it feels too much like … something else.

"taste this," he says finally, breaking the quiet. he’s holding the rubber spatula he’d been using on the frosting. a perfect, smooth dollop of cream cheese icing sits on the tip. "is it sweet enough?"

you step closer, leaning over the island. you could just take the spatula from him. but you don’t. you meet his eyes—dark, warm, waiting—and then your gaze drops to the frosting. without breaking that fragile, electric eye contact, you close the small distance and wrap your lips around the tip of the spatula.

his breath catches. you hear it. a sharp, quiet intake.

you pull back slowly, your tongue sweeping over your bottom lip to catch the last sweet, tangy residue. you watch his eyes follow the movement, his pupils dilating just a fraction. "it’s perfect," you say, and your voice is softer than you intended.

for a second, he just stares. the air crackles, thick with everything you’ve never said. the late-night texts that felt like secrets. the way his hand always finds the small of your back in a crowd. the jokes about you being his "plus one for life" that don’t feel like jokes anymore.

then, his gaze drops to his own hand. he slowly, deliberately, drags his index finger through the bowl of frosting, coating it thickly. he holds your stare as he brings his finger to his own mouth, sucking the icing off with a soft, deliberate pull. your stomach twists, hot and tight.

"yeah," he says, his voice rough around the edges. "perfect."

BEEP ! BEEP ! BEEP !

the timer on the oven beeps, a jarring, ordinary sound that shatters the moment. you both jump slightly.

"they’re done," you say, stating the obvious because you don’t know what else to say. the tension isn’t gone; it’s just been displaced, simmering under the surface.

"right." he turns away, grabbing the light blue oven mitts. you busy yourself with getting the cooling rack.

the next fifteen minutes are a dance of careful non-touching. you both know a line was just crossed. or maybe you’ve been on the other side of it for a long time, and you only just looked down.

when the cupcakes are cooled, he starts frosting them with a focused intensity. you lean against the counter next to him, watching his hands. they’re musician’s hands, long-fingered and capable. you’ve seen them fly over piano keys and guitar strings. now they’re carefully swirling frosting.

he finishes one and holds it out to you. "first one’s yours."

you take it, your fingers brushing his. a spark. you take a bite, the cake still slightly warm, the frosting cool and rich. "so good."

he’s watching you eat, a small, unreadable smile on his face. he picks up his own cupcake but doesn’t bite it. instead, he looks at you, really looks at you, and the playful mask is gone. what’s left is raw and a little scared.

he puts his cupcake down, his movements slow and deliberate again. he steps closer, wiping his hands on a towel. the space between you is charged, humming with potential.

fuck, is ruining the friendship really worth it?

[vivvangel]

genuinely wild. thank you all so much 🤍

[vivvangel]

ok antonoholic anon is reporting live after reading part 2... that shi hit me like a blunt bro it was so good im contemplating coming off anon just to become mutuals

hi antonoholic feel free to become mutuals !!!! thank u sm for your req, it's been so fun to write honestly 🧚‍♀️

[vivvangel]

BABY FEVER (among other things) — C.YJ

synopsis: after appearing on a reality tv show where txt took care of a child for a hundred days, choi yeonjun starts wondering what it would be like to have his own.

› pairings & contents: choi yeonjun of txt x fem!reader

✧ warnings: smut with plot, both hard & soft dom yeonjun, HUGE breeding kink!!!! unprotected sex, creampie(s).

FIRST EVER MUSIC CORE WIN.

• the "txt parenting diary" series was a trap. a cute, giggling, 15-month-old trap named yoojun. yeonjun walked in thinking it'd be wholesome content. he walked out filming all the episodes, a changed man.

• anyone who's watched the show could tell yeonjun LOVES yoojun. the way he learned to warm the bottle perfectly on his inner wrist. the way he whispered silly stories while feeding him. the absolute focus when trying to get his clothes on. the members had never seen him so soft, so domestic. well, except for maybe when he was drunk.

• txt's first win on music core nearly right yess after debut was nothing short of euphoric. but the real highlight for him? when the staff brought yoojun out for the encore stage. holding that baby in his arms, bouncing him gently to the celebratory music, seeing yoojun bow to the crowd, yeonjun's heart did something terrifying and permanent. he looked out at the sea of moas, felt the weight of the child in his arms, and thought: i want this. for real. with her.

• he doesn't say anything that evening. he's buzzing, but he hugs the members, thanks the staff, goes through the motions. but his eyes keep finding you in the crowd backstage, and there's a new, profound heat in his gaze.

TENSION SO THICK, YOU COULD CUT THROUGH IT.

• it starts subtle. i mean, he’s always been touchy, but now his hands linger on your hips, your lower back, with a different kind of purpose. when you’re cooking in his dorm, he’ll come up behind you, wrap his arms around your waist, and just rest his chin on your shoulder, his palms spread wide over your stomach. he doesn’t say a word. he just… holds. like he’s imagining it rounded with his child.

• he starts buying things. not baby things—that would be insane—but family things. a ridiculously soft, large blanket "for movie nights." two matching, sturdy coffee mugs. he looks at apartments with an extra room, "for an office or something."

• the dirty talk shifts. it used to be about how good you felt, how pretty you looked. now, it’s laced with something deeper, more primal. "you take me so well, fuck, you feel like home." "i could stay inside you forever." once, in a haze of pleasure, he groaned, "you'd be so beautiful pregnant," and immediately clammed up, as if he’d revealed a state secret.

• watching and taking care of yoojun for a hundred days unlocked a specific, visceral kink: breeding. he never expected himself to be into something like that. he thought of finishing inside you is a sacred, claiming act of creation. the risk, the potential, is the biggest turn-on of his life.

• he becomes obsessed with your cycle. he’d never ask, but he notices the subtle signs. he even downloaded a tracker app. when you’re tired and crampy, he’s unbearably tender, massaging your belly with a warm palm. when he suspects you’re ovulating, or the app tells him so, he’s a different being—possessive, insatiable, his touches loaded with a desperate, hungry intent.

• he stops pulling out. it happens the first time after the music core win. he holds you down through his climax, burying himself to the hilt with a guttural groan, and stays there, panting against your neck. the silence afterwards is thick with what he’s just done. the unspoken question hangs in the air: was that okay? the answer is in the way you cling to him, in the lack of protest.

IS THIS A DREAM?

• it’s a quiet night at his place. you’re curled up watching the parenting diary episode on his laptop. he’s pretending not to watch you watch it.

• on screen, he’s making yoojun laugh, tossing him gently in the air. you let out a soft, "aww, he’s so cute with you."

• that’s the trigger. he quietly takes the laptop, closes it, and sets it aside. his movements are deliberate. he turns to you, cups your face, and kisses you. it’s not hungry at first. it’s devastatingly sweet, full of the emotion he saw on screen.

• "i want that," he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick. "ours. i want to see you holding our baby after a win. i want to come home to you both."

the confession hangs there. it’s huge. it’s terrifying. it’s the hottest thing he’s ever said.

• the sex that follows is slow, deep, and unbearably intentional. every kiss, every touch, every thrust is infused with that yearning. he makes love to you with his eyes open, watching every flicker of emotion on your face.

• he guides your legs up over his shoulders, changing the angle, going deeper. "right here," he breathes, his rhythm becoming focused, potent. "this is where i’d put my baby in you."

• when he gets close, his composure cracks. the sweet, yearning boy is swallowed by the primal man. his thrusts become urgent, erratic. his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise.

• "gonna put a baby in you," he chokes out, a ragged, desperate promise. "gonna see your belly swell with me. please. let me. i need to." it’s half plea, half vow.

• he comes with a broken sob, collapsing over you, his body trembling not just from release, but from the sheer magnitude of his want. he doesn’t move, keeping you pinned, filled, as if willing his desire into reality.

• later, wrapped around you in the dark, his hand splayed possessively over your lower stomach, he whispers the most vulnerable thing of all: "would you? someday? with me?" it’s no longer just a kink. it’s a dream, and he’s handing you his heart, hoping you’ll choose to build it with him.

💌 viv's note: literally nobody asked but here's a little something before i go back to writing anton and sunghoon again lol

[vivvangel]

anton requester back again!! it was melt in your mouth delicious thank u momma 🧎‍♀️‍➡️🧎‍♀️‍➡️ perhaps a smut part 2? but i do desperately need anton on stage/red carpet or smth embarrassingly rock hard beforehand

I LOVE YOU ANON !!!!! we all say in unison!!!!

i knew it, i know you part 2

ps: i saved this delicious idea of yours for a drabble based in the same universe 😝

[vivvangel]

I KNEW IT, I KNOW YOU — L.CY (2)

synopsis: who knew a random doom scrolling session could lead you to find the love (?) of your life? lee anton definitely didn't.

› pairings & contents: lee anton of riize x soloist!reader

✧ warnings: the dates mentioned do not reflect real life whatsoever, except for some, riize members tease anton, mostly in anton pov. use of multiple nicknames, fast world building. includes smut. softdom anton, fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), missionary, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms.

may 5th, 2026.

remember how it started, as most stupid things do for anton, out of sheer boredom? at 2am, doom scrolling, nonetheless? how the dorm was quiet, just the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of seoul traffic? how anton was just scrolling, mindlessly, through twitter, saw a funny clip of you, then watched the entire vlog?

that soon turned into him watching every vlog, behind the scenes, variety show, whatever there was about you, too.

he was drawn to you.

the way your nose scrunched when you laughed at your own failed attempt to cook. the little off-key hum you did when you thought the camera was off. the genuine, unguarded delight in your eyes when you saw a cat on the street.

you got frustrated when your hair wouldn’t cooperate. you tripped over a cable and made a fool of yourself. you talked to the camera like it was a friend.

somewhere between the last time he saw you backstage at that osaka festival, and now —

he learned through you that you loved old, black-and-white movies, that you were surprisingly really good at the guitar. that you had a collection of shaped erasers. it was mundane, trivial stuff, but to anton, it felt like . . . everything.

calling you randomly when he was tired was everything to him.

you two texting back and forth, bickering and lowkey flirting all day was everything to him.

you facetiming him to show him an outfit was everything to him.

fuck.

he was in love, wasn't he?

the members figured it out surely enough. sohee claims he was the founding member of the currently nonexistent "yn x anton" club — anton didn't really help his case.

they’d catch him smiling at his phone, only to have him flip it over guiltily. sohee started humming the melody to your latest title track pointedly whenever anton walked into a room. shotaro, ever the kind soul, just patted his shoulder and said, “you should ask her to meet up, or atleast say hi at an event, it’s only polite.”

easier said than done. how do you walk up to someone and say, "hi, i think i’m in love with you because i’ve watched you do random shit on youtube for the past few months?"

may 8th, 2026.

fate, or perhaps overworked schedulers, intervened. both riize and you were booked for a university performance. Incheon national university, anton could kiss you.

he saw you by the artist lounge, particularly at the dessert table, looking slightly overwhelmed, seemingly picking out what cookie to try out.

this was it.

he took a deep breath, grabbed a water bottle in order to look "casual", and walked over. his mouth was dry.

"hi,"he said, his voice coming out a bit too high. he cleared his throat. "um, y/n it's… it’s been a while,"

you looked up, and your eyes—the same ones he’d seen crinkle with laughter on a tiny screen—widened in recognition and a touch of surprise. "hi anton— sunbaenim!" y/n quickly corrected herself just in case somebody was tuning into their conversation.

"you having trouble picking cookies?" he said, looking over at the table, and the vast array of cookies. "don't have the matcha one, it's really not good, it's uh— the classic chocolate chip is good, or the nutella —"

you gave him a grateful smile. "thank you, toni, you’re a lifesaver. i take these things veryyyy seriously," your tone and voice was low, afraid someone would hear the little nickname.

"so many people around," anton says, looking at the artist lounge with so many staff present, all doing their own thing, not really paying attention to the nervous flimsy anton and the (in anton's mind) the perfect, nonchalant, coolest, y/n.

your smile turned real, reaching your eyes. "exactly, way too many*"

— "this is our first time meeting after osaka,"

anton blinked, surprised. a faint blush colored on his cheeks. he didn't expect you to say that, for whatever reason. "i was waiting for the next time i saw you,"

that smile you blush, just slightly. how couldn't it? he says the cutest things ever with a straight face.

"i rewatched a few of your vlogs, while eating these days— well, almost all of them," he admitted, the truth tumbling out. "the jeju ones, the studio days… the tteokbokki ranking was very important research." he was babbling. he needed to stop.

but you were laughing, that same nose-scrunching laugh from the video. "no way i'm believing that, you're lying!"

"i’m not! i have strong opinions about the store near hongdae station, too, okay? their sauce is superior.”

you looked at him, your head tilted, as if seeing him for the first time. "wow,"

"it’s not silly—," he said, sincerity cutting through his nerves, explaining though he didn't need to, "seeing the person behind the stage. it’s… refreshing,"

the conversation flowed after that, easier than anton could have dreamed.

you talked about music, riize's upcoming second mini album, he asked you to film the tiktok challenge with him some other day &, he even made you laugh several times.

but the conversation was cut short.

your manager appeared, giving you a gentle look. "y/n, it's time for soundcheck,"

“right,” you said, sounding genuinely regretful. you turned back to anton. “thank you for the cookie recommendations. and the conversation. i'll see you soon?,"

"i really hope so," he said, meaning it with every fiber of his being.

you hesitated, then bit your lip—that nervous tell he knew so well. "maybe…let's grab tteokbokki sometime? i know a really good place by the han river— i mean if our schedules allow—,"

anton’s heart stopped, then restarted at double-time.

he genuinely felt like he died in that second and came back alive.

"yes," he said, perhaps too quickly. "i would love that. i think i know what place you're talking about."

your smile was brighter than any stage lighting could ever be.

"then it’s a date?," you seemed to realize what you said, blushing some more. "i mean—a… a food research collaboration, yes,"

"a date," he repeated, softly, holding your gaze. "i like that better."

you smiled, shy and sweet, gave him a little wave (the two-finger one!), and let your manager lead you away, who nudged you like "oohhh, date? with anton-ssi?"

anton stood there, holding the water bottle, feeling like he was floating. sometime between you left and he lost his mind, sohee materialized next to him, snagging a mini éclair.

"so?" sohee asked, mouth full.

anton just grinned, a wide, unreserved, utterly happy grin. "she said it was a date"

sohee patted his back. "bruh, see we told you you just had to approach her again,"

may 22nd, 2026.

the tteokbokki date led to coffee. coffee led to walks along the han river, hats pulled low, talking until the streetlights flickered on. the "food research collaboration" was a flimsy, charming pretense that you both happily clung to. it was safer that way.

it was a potential headline, a scandal, a risk. so it could never be "just a date".

but you two found quiet places you could relax without people recognizing you, or words, taking pictures of you two together—a corner booth in a quiet café, the rooftop of his dorm building late at night, and a private room at his favorite favorite.

it felt terrifying.

but also, so, so, so wonderful.

and, so fucking real.

june 1st, 2026.

tonight, the risk felt higher.

your schedules had finally aligned for a proper evening. not in public. he called, and nervously asked if you wanted to come over, casually, to riize's dorm, "the others are away," he’d added quickly. you’d said yes.

now you were in his room, which was neater than you’d expected, you're sure he hyper- cleaned it before you came. it smelled like his cologne and laundry detergent. you were sitting on the edge of his bed, having just finished showing him a ridiculous Instagram reel on your phone. the laughter had died down, leaving a thick, charged silence.

the air between you had been sparking for weeks. the casual brush of hands, the held glances that lasted a second too long, the way his voice dropped when he said your name.

it was a live wire, and you’d both been dancing around it.

anton was leaning against his desk, watching you. the usual soft, fond look in his eyes was still there, but underneath it was a heat you’d only glimpsed before. it made your stomach flutter.

"you know," he said, his voice quieter, lower than usual. "i have a confession."

"oh?" you managed.

"i really thought i would've kissed you by now, but i'm being a wuss," he pushed off the desk and took a step toward you. "you feel that too, no?,"

your breath hitched at his directness.

— "anton…"

"say it again," he murmured, stopping in front of you. he didn’t touch you, but his proximity was overwhelming.

"anton," you whispered.

a slow smile touched his lips, but it was different. less boyish, more intent. "i spent so much time imagining what you were really like. and you’re so much better than what i ever could've thought," he finally reached out, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw with a touch so soft it was almost agonizing. "so much better."

the tenderness was there, the soft crush that had started it all. but the way his thumb brushed over your lower lip was not soft. it was somehow both a demand and a question.

the shift was subtle yet so monumental. the sweet, shy, lee anton with the crush was still there, but he was leaning into something else— sure confidence that wanted more than just your smile.

"can i kiss you?" he asked, but the tone wasn’t pleading, really. it was a formality. his eyes were already dark with certainty. "fuck, this is happening," you thought to yourself.

you nodded, unable to speak.

he closed the distance, and the kiss was nothing like the shy, tentative ones you’d exchanged by the river. this was deep, hungry, and full of the pent-up want of weeks of watching and wanting. his hands came up to cradle your face, holding you firmly in place as he explored your mouth. you moaned into him, your hands fisting in the soft fabric of his black tshirt.

when he broke for air, he was breathing heavily. "i’ve wanted to do that since osaka," he confessed, his forehead resting against yours. "since we met backstage,"

"me too," you breathed.

the admission seemed to snap the last thread of his restraint. something emerged within him.

"stand up," he said, his voice a gentle rumble against your skin.

you stood. his hands went to the hem of your shirt. "this okay?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any hesitation. when you nodded, he lifted it over your head, his gaze turning reverent as it swept over you. "so beautiful," he whispered, more to himself than to you. the fondness was still there, warming the edges of his intensity.

he guided you back to sit on the bed. then he knelt on the floor in front of you, his hands on your knees, gently pushing them apart. the position, him looking up at you from his knees, was intensely intimate and submissive, but the look in his eyes was anything but. it was possessive, fuck, even worshipful.

"i used to imagine this," he said, his hands sliding up your thighs to the waistband of your baggy jeans. "how you’d look. how you’d sound," he undid the button, the zip sounding loud in the quiet room. "let me see, yeah?"

he helped you out of your jeans and underwear, his touch clinical yet burning. when you were bare before him, he just looked for a long moment, his dark eyes drinking in the sight. "shit, perfect," he breathed, the word filled with awe. then he leaned forward and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of your thigh.

he didn’t dive in, surprisingly.

he took his time, kissing and nipping his way up your other thigh, driving you mad with anticipation. his breath was hot against your core.

"anton, please…"

"please what, baby?" he asked, looking up at you through his lashes. the term of endearment, delivered in that low, commanding tone, unraveled you.

"please don’t make me wait any longer,"

a hint of a smirk. "since you asked so nicely." he finally lowered his mouth to you, and his tongue was a flat, hot stripe of pure sensation. you cried out, your back arching. he held your hips down with strong hands, his grip firm, anchoring you as he licked and sucked like his life depended on it.

he was relentless, really, learning what made you gasp, what made your legs tremble. he added a finger, then two, curling them inside you with precision. "you taste even better," he groaned against you, the vibration pushing you closer to the edge.

"fuck— toni— wait, i'm gonna—,"

"i know," he interrupted, his voice thick. "come on, baby. let me see you,"

his permission was what did it for you, you came with a broken cry, your body seizing as the orgasm ripped through you. he gentled his touch, lapping softly through the aftershocks until you were whimpering, pushing weakly at his shoulders.

he moved up your body, kissing a wet, possessive trail up your stomach, between your breasts. he settled over you, he was still fully dressed, the rough fabric of his jeans against your bare skin a stark contrast. you could feel his hard length pressed against your thigh.

you reached for his tshirt, but he caught your wrist, pinning it gently to the mattress above your head. his other hand came down to trace your lips.

"my turn," he said, his eyes dark with promise. "you’re going to be good for me, right?"

the question was soft, but it held an edge that made your already sensitive body clench with fresh need. you were so downbad for him. nobody could blame you. you nodded, wordlessly.

"use your words, baby."

"yes," you whispered. "i’ll be good."

he rewarded you with a deep kiss. "i know you will." he released your wrist and finally, slowly, pulled his own clothes off. his body was lean and defined, what you'd expect a former swimmer's physique to be like. you reached for him, wanting to touch, to reciprocate, but he gently guided your hand away.

"not yet," he murmured. “this is for you.” he kissed you again, his hands roaming your body, re-sensitizing every nerve. then he positioned himself between your thighs. he didn’t ask again; he just looked at you, waiting for your signal.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "please," you said, more firmly.

he pushed into you in one slow stroke, filling you completely. you both groaned in unison, him louder than you expected.

he stilled, buried deep, his body trembling with the effort of control. he dropped his forehead to yours. "fuck," he breathed, the curse sounding like a prayer. "ah, y/n — angel, you feel so good,"

then he began to move. his rhythm was deep and steady, a perfect, building pace. it was loving, but unexpectedly harsh, all at once. he held your gaze and kissed you, swallowing your moans.

"you’re mine," he chanted against your lips between thrusts. "fuck, mine, mine, mine mine," each declaration was punctuated by a deep rock of his hips.

the pleasure built again, coiling tighter and hotter than before. "anton, fuck, i can't—,"

"come on," he urged, his pace becoming more urgent, his control slipping. "come with me, baby, — need to feel you."

his release triggered yours. you cried out as you clenched around him, the second orgasm even more intense, pulling him over the edge with you. he shouted your name, his body slamming into you one final time as he spilled inside you, his own climax shuddering through him.

he collapsed, careful to keep his weight on his elbows, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

long minutes passed. slowly, he softened and slipped out of you.

he didn’t go far, just rolled to his side and gathered you against him, pulling the comforter over you both. his arms were tight around you.

he pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder. "you're okay?," he asked, his voice back to that gentle, fond tone, laced with a new layer of intimacy.

you sighed, snuggling into his warmth.

he chuckled, a low, happy sound. "good," he was silent for a moment, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm. "so," he said, his tone light but his words heavy with meaning. "are we still just food research collaborators?"

you tilted your head up to look at him. in the dim light, his eyes were soft.

"i think— nah," you said, kissing his chest.

he laughed, holding you closer.

the little crush he had on you was more complex now. and shit, it was complex for you too.

not really a taglist but these people actively asked for a part two, so i dedicate this to, ofc, the anon who gave me this idea in the first place, and: @deighsees, @yyuuttaaa & @oncyanii 🧚‍♀️

[vivvangel]

hi lovies i love u i swear i'm posting very soon thank u all for being so patient mwah 🤍

[vivvangel]

SHOW ME LOVE ! — L.CY

synopsis: one of your favorite things ever is texting your boyfriend, lee anton. rightfully so.

› pairings & contents: idol bf!anton of riize x reader, established relationship.

✧ warnings: caring bf anton, mentions of food, sohee x anton agenda, reader is lowk mean but he loves it. that's about it, mainly fluff / crack. header & all other pics used are from pinterest, credit to owners.

[vivvangel]

anton develops a crush on a fellow idol by watching all her vlogs and behind the scenes content!

dome, done, done !!!!

read the fic here: i knew it, i know you.

i left it on a cliffhanger because i wasn't sure whether to do a cute ending or write smut honestly, i might just do both if you all want it 😭

[vivvangel]

I KNEW IT, I KNOW YOU — L.CY

synopsis: who knew a random doom scrolling session could lead you to find the love (?) of your life? lee anton definitely didn't.

› pairings & contents: lee anton of riize x soloist!reader

✧ warnings: the dates mentioned do not reflect real life whatsoever. anton is an overthinker, riize members tease anton, but that's about it. mostly in anton pov!

1 — 2.

april 3rd, 2026

anton wasn't supposed to be watching your vlog.

if anyone asked, he was supposed to be asleep, actually.

the clock beside his bed had already passed one in the morning, and tomorrow's schedule started early enough that even scrolling through social media felt like a bad idea. the dorm was unusually quiet for once. wonbin had disappeared into his room hours ago, sohee's gaming setup was finally silent, and anton had every intention of putting his phone down and getting at least six hours of sleep.

instead, he found himself staring at a twenty-minute vlog from a soloist he had never paid much attention to before.

it wasn't even intentional.

a clip from one of your videos had appeared on his twitter timeline while he was scrolling through fan updates. someone had reposted a funny moment where you were arguing with your manager about coffee.

— "three americanos isn't that bad."

— "yes, it is."

— "for who?"

— "for everyone around you."

the clip ended with you laughing so hard you nearly dropped your camera.

anton had smiled.

then clicked on the original video. that had been nearly an hour ago. now he was three vlogs deep.

most idol vlogs felt polished. carefully edited, including riize's own, he'll admit. everything cuts down to show only the best moments. but yours? yours weren't like that. or maybe they were, but they didn't feel like it. half the footage seemed completely random.

you forgetting your charger.

you accidentally ordering the wrong drink.

you getting lost inside a building you'd apparently visited dozens of times before.

there wasn't anything particularly special happening, and yet anton found himself watching until the very end.

when the video finally finished, youtube immediately recommended another one. he stared at the thumbnail, then clicked it.

just one more.

april 12th, 2026

it became a habit before he realized it was one. whenever a new vlog appeared, he watched it. whenever your company uploaded behind-the-scenes footage, he watched that too.

sometimes it happened after schedules, sometimes during dinner, sometimes at four in the morning when he should have been sleeping & had schedules at 8 AM.

at first he told himself it was because your content was entertaining. like, you were funny — you had the ability to make someone laugh till their stomach hurt, naturally, and to his defense, you're gorgeous too!

but then he decided it was because your videos were relaxing.

eventually he stopped trying to explain it altogether.

he simply looked forward to them.

one afternoon, anton was sitting in the practice room waiting for the others to finish changing when a notification appeared on his phone.

a new vlog uploaded.

YouTube • 2m ago

Y/N'S DIGITAL DIARY

"come get iced coffee w me & talk about nothing & everything! 𖤐"

& his thumb moved before his brain could stop it.

"what are you smiling at?"

anton nearly dropped his phone. sohee sat down beside him, immediately suspicious.

"nothing."

"that's definitely not nothing."

"it's just youtube—."

"whose video?"

anton locked his screen, which, unfortunately, was the worst possible response.

sohee's eyes widened.

"oh."

"what?"

"oh my god."

"what?"

"there's someone."

"there is not."

"there is."

"there isn't."

sohee looked delighted, which was a problem, because the second sohee knew something, everybody knew something.

sure enough, less than five minutes later, anton walked into a room filled with grinning faces.

"hmm i heard our anton has a crush." sungchan teased.

"i don't, hyung! i was just watching youtube before sohee ran w his loud mouth!"

"you do."

"i don't."

"who is she?"

"there's no she, why did you guys assume i was watching a girl's video?!"

wonbin looked up from his phone, with the teasing grin on his face (that briize love)

"there's definitely a she."

anton considered leaving the practice room entirely.

the truth was, he wasn't even sure if it counted as a crush yet. you were still mostly a person on a screen. someone he'd never properly met, someone he only knew through edited videos and short clips, but somehow he'd started noticing little things.

the way you switched between english and korean without thinking.

the way you always thanked staff members, even in subtle moments.

the way your smile changed when something genuinely surprised you.

small things.

ridiculous things.

the kind of details people only noticed when they were paying far too much attention...

and anton was definitely paying too much attention.

april 21st, 2026

the first time he saw you in person felt strangely disappointing. backstage at some mnet thing.

not because you weren't pretty— if anything, you were prettier. fuck, you took his breath away. not because you weren't nice. he hadn't spoken to you long enough to know.

it was disappointing because he suddenly realized how little he actually knew you.

anton was walking through the backstage hallways at music bank when he spotted you.

for a moment he almost didn't recognize you. there was no vlog camera, or your phone in sight.

definitely no cheerful editing, subtitles & background music.

you just looked . . . tired.

your manager was talking about schedule changes while you listened quietly, nodding every few seconds. you weren't laughing. you were just... working. just another idol trying to survive a busy, brutally scheduled day.

something about that realization made his stomach twist. because in all honesty, for weeks, he'd felt like he knew you.

not completely, but enough.

and now, standing twenty feet away, he understood how ridiculous that was.

he didn't know you at all.

he knew videos, he knew edited moments, he knew what you or your company had chosen to show. nothing more.

as if sensing his stare, you glanced up. your eyes met briefly, anton immediately looked away, then mentally kicked himself. when he looked back, you were already approaching.

you stopped a few feet away and offered a polite bow.

"hello, sunbaenim! i'm a big fan of riize!,"your voice sounded exactly the same as it did in your videos. you gave him a smile, the same one you gave to your staff, your fans.

for some reason, that only made him more nervous.

"hello, Y/N-nim,"

smooth. very smooth. awkward, yes, but hopefully smooth? he sounded like he'd forgotten every language he'd ever learned.

thankfully, you smiled again. a small one, but a smile nonetheless. it was friendly. then continued down the hallway, after another polite bow, and anton bowed back.

the interaction lasted maybe three seconds, okay, maybe five.

but anton thought about it for the rest of the week.

may 9th, 2026

your first actual conversation with lee anton happened because of coffee, which felt fitting. anton was waiting in line between rehearsals when he heard a familiar voice nearby.

"i'm serious."

english.

your voice.

— "if i drink another americano this week, i'm pretty sure i'll achieve enlightenment."

anton laughed before he could stop himself.

you turned, recognition immediately crossing your face.

— "you heard that?"

"kind of hard not to."

you glanced down at the iced americano in your hand, then back at him.

"...okay, that's fair."

he laughed again. and suddenly, somehow, talking wasn't difficult anymore.

conversation flowed naturally. honestly, both of you speaking english made it easier, somehow. it was comfortable, familiar, even.

you asked about schedules & lollapalooza. he asked about promotions. one conversation became another, then another, and before anton realized it, the version of you he'd built from months of watching videos had slowly started being replaced by the real thing.

the real you laughed less often than vlog-you, if that makes sense. but when you did laugh, it felt more genuine. the real you got annoyed when you were hungry, which is very valid, the real you complained about schedules, the real you wasn't always cheerful, wasn't always polished.

and shit, he liked that too. truly, anton liked that version far more.

he liked every version of you. the one you were on stage, the one you were in your vlogs and definitely the one you were in real life.

well, fuck.

june 2nd, 2026

the kpop festival in osaka had finally ended. the crowd was gone, it was past 12 AM, the noise had faded. for the first time all day, everything felt quiet. weeks ago, when the lineup was announced and anton saw your name — he knew he had to get closer to you. in whatever way he could.

the universe seemed to be in favor of him.

anton sat beside you backstage while staff rushed around preparing for departure, neither of you had spoken much during the last few minutes.

you looked exhausted, so did he, but neither of you seemed particularly eager to move. your shoulder brushed his, very lightly, accidentally. you should've pulled away when you felt that little friction but neither of you pulled away. anton stared ahead for a moment before glancing sideways, you were already looking at him.

something shifted

it was subtle but impossible to ignore.

the air suddenly felt different, he couldn't explain it, he felt like a crazy person— maybe it was because the two of you had been spending more time together lately. texting & calling counts as spending time, no? you two sent each other memes & tiktoks back and forth, that must count. or maybe it was because your conversations lasted longer now.

or maybe it was because somewhere between random texts and shared coffees and late-night phone calls, anton had stopped pretending this was just a harmless crush.

whatever the reason, looking away suddenly felt impossible.

you smiled first. you were tired but your smile was soft, and oh so fucking beautiful. anton's heart immediately betrayed him. he smiled back at you, his eyes basically pouring with love— love?! whatever!

neither of you said anything, you didn't need to. the silence felt louder than any conversation you'd ever had, and when your gaze dropped briefly to his lips before returning to his eyes, anton forgot what he'd been about to say entirely.

your shoulder remained pressed against his. somewhere in the distance, staff members were calling out instructions, you heard your own manager's voice faintly too. but ofcourse, neither of you paid attention. all anton could think about was how close you were & how easy it would be to close the distance completely.

and judging by the way your breath caught, you were thinking the exact same thing.

"anton." your voice was barely above a whisper, you couldn't help it.

"yeah?"

you opened your mouth.

paused.

then laughed softly.

"nothing."

he didn't believe you, not for a second, but he smiled anyway. for once, he didn't think he needed the answer

not yet, there would be time for that later. hopefully.

and as you continued looking at him like that, neither of you making any effort to look away, anton found himself wondering if maybe this could be something more, something real, anytime soon.

💌 viv's note: sorry for the cliffhanger mwah 🤍🧚‍♀️

[vivvangel]

my reqs are open so feel free to send in anything!! pls note that i write reqs tbh a lil slowly 😭

[vivvangel]

Please write us some xinlong smut🥵 we've been starving ma'am

done, done, done !!!!

read the fic here: hit the freak alarm.