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anton loves being in control. he's always the one towering over you, making you feel small, teasing you. but deep down, you know he loves being on the receiving end even more. he can't help taking the lead whenever you're around even if it goes against what he truly wants. you know he'll only fall into his destined position if he's caught off guard.

you find him spread out on the couch watching tv, he doesn't even notice you approaching. you plop down against his side, facing him. he mumbles an absent greeting, eyes boring into the screen.

your hand goes over his clothed stomach, feeling the dents of his muscles with your palm. he glances down at your hand for a moment before looking back up. you continue feeling him up, reaching to feel his muscular chest for a split second. he's visibly distracted now. "wow." you whisper, slipping your hand under his shirt.

"how often do you work out?" you trace his abs with your fingertips. you already know the answer, but you'll do anything to hear his affected voice.

"few times a week." he breathes out.

your head rests on his chest, the bass of his pounding heart flooding your ear. your wandering hand trails to his bicep, squeezing it gently. "so big and strong," you murmur, "what are you training for?" you crane your neck to see his face. his eyes flutter shut every time you give him a squeeze. your palm leaves his arm and he regains consciousness, mouthing a 'huh' when he realizes you'd asked him something.

you reach down to grasp at his thigh through the thick fabric of his sweats, "you train legs too right? a lot of guys only focus on their upper body." you're barely doing anything and he already looks so bothered, your head rising and falling along with his heaving chest. you feel movement when his chin slightly bumps the top of your head, but can't guess if he's nodding in response or not. "you do?" you look up at him, he's staring down at your hand intensely, like he's trying to control it with his mind.

"yes." he says quietly.

your other arm that's been wedged between your body and the couch stretches to rest behind his neck, fingers threading through his hair as he lets out a loud sigh.

your hand creeps back up to his toned stomach, purposely skipping over the growing bulge in his pants. your nails drag against the hard-earned definition of his abs, you can hear his heartbeat quickening when your hand glides down, two fingers slipping just past the waistband of his sweats. they stay there unmoved, "should i start working out too? i feel like i'm missing out on something."

when he opens his mouth to respond, you press down on his lower abdomen, earning what sounds like a low groan mixed with his usual exhales. "are you okay?" you ask lightly, withdrawing your digits and patting the cloth of his waistband as if you're smoothing something.

"no, wait. please." he says hurriedly.

"please what?" if he wasn't so desperate you're sure he would have rolled his eyes. you wait for him to part his lips in response, eager to play your sound-drawing trick on him again.

but instead, his hand envelopes the back of yours. your fingers intertwined, when he guides you directly where he wants.

he retrieves his hand and leaves you in control.

"why can't you react normally when i compliment you?" you tease.

"your way of complimenting," he pauses, letting out a groan when you palm him over his sweats. "isn't normal." he finishes the sentence, his voice rising by the end of it when you grab his length.

"you don't like normal." you tug his sweats and boxers down together slowly, freeing his hard cock. he's already leaking.

he looks at you with wide eyes when you move like you're about to touch him, but then stop midway, raising your palm up to his chin.

your head motions towards your hand when he looks at you dumbfounded. you know he knows what to do, he just wants you to say it.

"spit." you order.

it's obvious he's fighting back a smile while he gathers as much saliva as he can in his mouth, before parting his lips and letting it spill into your palm.

you cup your hand, tilting it so the spit drips down his length.

you give him one long stroke, spreading the wetness so it coats his whole cock. his head instantly tips back against the couch, slack-jawed. you massage his tip with your thumb and he lets out a whimper. "you're so sensitive." you say.

he only nods. you begin stroking his length up and down slowly, earning breathy moans. "you like that?"

he huffs out a quiet 'yeah', biting his lip harshly when you grip the base of his cock. you sit up, your hand that was tangled in his hair reaching under his shirt, feeling for his abs again. "you're so hot, anton." you purr, stroking him faster. "i'd go to the gym with you if it meant you'd fuck me in the locker room."

"fuck." he ruts into your hand.

you egg him on. "it'd feel like this." your grip on him tightens, trying to simulate how you'd clench around him.

he lets out a guttural moan, bucking his hips up to fuck your hand. his eyes are screwed shut, you know he's imagining it.

you can tell he's getting close as his hips stutter, so you purposely slow the pace, stroking him lazily. "already, baby?" you coo at him.

he leaks more precum just from the gentle tone of your voice.

"please continue." he whines.

"you're so cute." you reach up to caress his cheek with your other hand while you continue to stroke him, building up the pace once again. he lets his head fall sideways to rest on your palm, absentmindedly nodding against it when you ask him another meaningless question about the gym.

you gently push his head upright, both hands now going to the base of his cock. with no warning, you duck down and lick the tip. "oh my god." he gasps. you stroke him faster, wrapping your lips around him. he whimpers, "please. faster."

you detach from him and look up to see his eyes closed as he thrusts into your hold, "tell me what you're thinking about." his cock twitches in your hands.

"i'm thinking," he's reckless now, his own hand going over yours to squeeze himself. "i'm thinking about you, fuck," he shuts his mouth to suppress a moan you're still able to hear, muffled. "us at the gym. you counting my reps, then taking me to the back." he whines when you twist around him.

"you wanna fuck me in the gym, baby? have all your friends hear?" you coo at him, or maybe at his dick when you lean down to place a sloppy kiss on the tip. his hips snap upwards, spilling his release all over your hands as he falls apart with a low moan. he's panting when you continue stroking him, milking him of everything.

he nods when you pat his thigh, telling him you're going to go get a towel to clean up his mess. "are you really gonna start going to the gym with me?" he calls out.

spiderman!anton who can’t quite process it when you start approaching him first, asking small questions, sitting closer, acting like it’s the most natural thing in the world

spiderman!anton who doesn’t realize you’ve gone quiet because you’re too busy noticing things you never paid attention to before—how his sleeves are tight around his biceps, how his hands are big and veiny and long, how pretty he actually is up close

spiderman!anton who tilts his head slightly when you don’t respond, brows knitting together, “hey…?” you blink and look back up at him, flustered and red as you mumble, “sorry—what did you say? i zoned out…”

spiderman!anton who feels his chest tighten at that, because the idea that you could be the one getting flustered over him is something he’s never even let himself imagine before

spiderman!anton who doesn’t even like parties that much, but still goes because you mentioned you’d be there. spends half the night lingering, pretending he’s not looking for you in every room. ends up next to you almost by accident, or maybe not, the music loud enough that you have to lean in close just to hear each other

spiderman!anton who keeps glancing down at your lips mid-conversation, losing track of what you’re even talking about because all he can think about is how close you are and how pretty you look

spiderman!anton who goes quiet for a second too long, the noise around you fading out as he finally leans in, like if he thinks about it any longer he’ll lose it. the kiss is unsure, bracing himself for you to pull away, and when you don’t, when you actually lean into him too, he melts into it completely

spiderman!anton who walks you home after that, both of you a little quieter than usual, glancing shyly at eachother and accidentaly brushing your fingers here and there

spiderman!anton who asks you out properly outside of your building. a little awkward and unsure, but so cute it's impossible to say no to him

spiderman!anton spends the entire date trying not to stare at you too much, trying to act like his heart isn’t racing every time you smile at him or laugh. he can’t hold it in any longer, asking you to be his girlfriend way sooner than he probably should

spiderman!anton who immediately thinks he messed up, rushing to explain himself, words tripping over each other because he doesn’t want to scare you off but goes completely still when you just…say yes

spiderman!anton who keeps one thing to himself through all of it. the late nights, the bruises, the way he sometimes disappears without explanation. feels that small twist of guilt in his chest because there’s still a part of him you don’t know

spiderman!anton who tells himself he’ll say it soon. about the mask, about everything, just not yet…not when he’s only just gotten you

spiderman!anton who is laying in your bed with you, your head tucked against his chest as a movie plays in the backgrouns, his arm wrapped around you tight, grounding himself before he says it. he goes unusually quiet, fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes on your arm until you tilt your head up at him, “hey...what’s wrong?”

spiderman!anton who watches your expression as he explains, stumbling over his words a little, trying to make it sound real enough without sounding completely insane and feels his stomach drop a little when you laugh it off at first thinking he’s joking, teasing him about it

spiderman!anton who decides not to push it that night, just holds you a little closer, even if there’s a quiet frustration underneath it all. he can’t stop thinking about it after he leaves. about how you didn’t believe him, how he wants you to see him, all of him

spiderman!anton who finds you curled up in bed, your room dim, lit softly by fairy lights, the window cracked open just enough to let the night air in. he slips in through that same window smoothly, landing quietly but still startling you

spiderman!anton who hears your soft gasp before he even says anything, turning toward you slowly as you sit up in bed, eyes wide, trying to piece it together. he pulls his mask up just enough for you to see him, soft eyes, bruised cheek, strands of hair falling into his eyes, until he takes it off his head

spiderman!anton who tilts his head at you, voice soft and a little teasing, “hey, baby… believe me now?”

spiderman!anton who freezes a little when you just sit there with your mouth slightly open, eyes wide as you try to process what you’re seeing and he softens the second you get up from the bed and walk toward him, slow and almost hesitant like you’re not sure if he’s actually real

spiderman!anton who lets you cup his face in your hands, doesn’t move, barely even breathes, just lets you look at him and giving you time. “i… i do. yes…”

spiderman!anton who smiles at that, soft and relieved, his hands instinctively settling at your waist but gets completely caught off guard when you suddenly kiss him. no hesitation, no thinking, just pulling him in like you need him

spiderman!anton who lets out a quiet sound against your lips, surprised for half a second before he melts into it. he rests his forehead against yours when you pull back just enough to breathe, your voice soft and a little dazed when you say his name

spiderman!anton who short-circuits a little when you murmur, “you look so hot right now…” he blinks, caught between flustered and confused, a quiet “wha—” leaving his lips before you’re kissing him again

spiderman!anton who responds almost instantly, like something in him snaps into place, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulls you closer deepening the kiss hungrily without thinking. he’s been holding this back for far too long

spiderman!anton who has never gone this far with you before—has never done anything like this with you before—and the realization hits him right in the middle of it. he slows just slightly, not pulling away and making sure you’re still with him, that you want this just as much

spiderman!anton who asks quietly, voice careful and a little shaky, “can i… touch you?” he feels his heart skip a beat when you look up at him with glossy eyes, and shyly nod

spiderman!anton who doesn’t wait any longer once you nod, kissing you again, harder. he guides you backward without breaking the kiss.

spiderman!anton who feels your legs hit the edge of the mattress and pauses just for a second giving you time, giving you space to pull away if you wanted to. he continues when you don’t, gently easing you down

spiderman!anton who lets you help him take your shirt off completely, leaving you in your bra. he leans down again , kissing and sucking along your neck, then lower on your collarbones, and then your chest, hot breath hovering on your skin, soft sounds escaping your mouth

spiderman!anton who slowly drags his palm from your stomach to the hem of your sleep shorts and looks up at you. you give him a small reassuring nod and he takes them off, only in your cute underwear now.

spiderman!anton who instinctively reaches to pull his suit off, but stops when you say ''don't. keep it on...for a little.'' he nods at your request without question and smiles “yeah… okay.” and leans back into you right after, kissing you again, more certain

spiderman!anton who watches you shift, pushing yourself up slightly to take your bra off and he just freezes. he stares at you like he forgot how to think, eyes wide and all. he hears you say his name softly and blinks, snapping out of it, a little flustered now “toniii...”

spiderman!anton who lets out a quiet breath “sorry…” before shaking his head slightly almost in disbelief “fuck, you’re… you’re so gorgeous.” and he means it more than anything he’s ever said before

spiderman!anton who latches onto your nipple, making you gasp softly. he sucks and licks while his other hand pinches the other nipple, before moving it down and over your panties, cupping your heat. “please anton—i need you so bad!'”

spiderman!anton who puts his hand under your panties, fingers sliding between your folds to feel how wet you are and you let out the cutest sound, making his dick twitch under his suit ''fuck baby'' and he slowly takes them off

spiderman!anton who grabs your thighs hard, his face between your legs slurping and sucking on your needy pussy, still in his suit, while you squirm and moan, tugging on his messy hair

spiderman!anton who adds his fingers as well, three fingers pistoning in and out of your sopping hole just to get you ready for his cock later on. ''come on pretty, please cum for me...'' his fingers curling inside you deliciously again and again, and you can't believe that your cute nerdy boyfriend is so skilled at this

spiderman!anton who after making you cum twice on his fingers and mouth, finally takes his suit off. “have to take this off now baby. need to fuck you so bad—”

spiderman!anton who has you drooling at the sight of his pretty big cock, standing up proudly on his stomach as he pins your arms over your head and prods it on your entrance, slowly easing in

spiderman!anton who holds your hips tightly and uses you like a fleshlight, compeltely lost at the sight of his big cock streching your tight little hole. you feel so full and so dazed, grabbing on his biceps, nails digging into his skin

spiderman!anton who makes you cum once again, on his cock this time, but he's nowhere near being done with you. he suddenly flips you over, face down ass up, and starts pounding in you again. his long fingers rubbing on your clit, his other pulling your hair while he sucks red marks onto your skin. “dirty girl getting horny just from watching me in my suit—fuck... im cumming—“

spiderman!anton who cums deep inside your sensitive pussy with a soft whimper, triggering your fourth orgasm of the night, crying out his name with tears in your eyes and collapsing on the soft sheets.

spiderman!anton who goes completely soft with you after, like all that intensity just melts out of him the second it’s over, and he becomes lowkey submissive. he gets quieter, softer, shy again, mumbling little things against your skin between kisses

spiderman!anton who gently takes your hand and brings it up to his hair, and practically melts when you start playing with it, a soft sigh leaving him as his eyes close, like that’s all he needed “gonna wear the suit more around you i guess...”

the last thing you remember before heading to work was how hard it was to leave anton. 

the way his body felt against yours beneath the sheets immediately after you woke up, the way he returned your kisses just as deeply despite being so sluggish. even how his voice sounded as he did a horrible job convincing you to leave because he’d “be here when you got back”. needless to say, there was nothing you wanted more than to stay in bed with him all morning.

but you also had to remain employed.

so with every ounce of self control you could muster, you got ready and planted one last sloppy kiss on his lips, bolting out the front door to avoid another wave of hesitation.

the day that followed was excruciating. 

numerous complaints, your boss on your ass in the most passive aggressive way, and obviously a bunch of texts from anton about how much you were missed.

textbook definiton of your own personal hell, but of course you managed. the man waiting for you at home acting as incentive to get you through several hours of misery.

when the time comes you basically teleport home after clocking out, not even bothering to text anton that you’d be back soon.

because he was already waiting for you.

once you made it through the door you greeted each other and then you practically started clawing at him, dodging most questions about how your day had been.

“take me back to bed?” you plead, already dropping your bag and peeling your shirt off your body.

anton obliged with a smile on his face, giggling every time you’d pull away from a kiss to shed another layer of clothing.

it doesn’t take much time for you to end up back where you started earlier today—this time on top of the sheets, resting on all fours while anton’s hips brutally snapped into yours.

there was no doubt that it felt good, of course it did. but you were positive that you had a maximum of more two orgasms in you at the moment and you were already too close to creaming all over anton’s cock. 

it was all too much too fast.

“toni—wait a second!” you pant, not missing the way your boyfriend goes completely rigid behind you. 

“baby, am i hurting you? i’m sorry let me–“

“no!” you interrupt, peering at him over your shoulder. when he gets a good look at you he can tell that you’re not upset, or disappointed even. 

you’re almost smiling.

anton’s face reads a mix of fear and confusion. but this only makes the grin spread wider across your lips.

“i don’t want you to stop,” you insist, reaching behind you to grip at his waist and urge him to untense. your touch is tender, contrasting the ache between your legs.

“but it could last longer and feel even better…if you just take it easy.” 

anton’s cheeks flush in an instant, but he doesn’t look away. he can’t bring himself to.

you genuinely don’t say it to embarrass or discourage him. it was the opposite actually.

but clearly the best way to get your point across would be to demonstrate.

“let me show you.”

you can feel his eyes on you as you arch your back, stopping when your chest is almost pressed into the mattress beneath you. then you use your free hand for balance, holding the rest of your weight as your knees slightly buckle.

the same hand that rests on anton’s waist forces his hips away slightly and you sigh. the brutal drag of each ridge of his cock against the warmth of your cunt has you shuddering.

then you press your hips backwards until his balls tap your clit. your head falls forward, feeling impossibly heavy when the tip of anton’s cock is buried inside. 

the change in speed is effortless, it feels like you’d waited all your life for the opportunity to show him how to take you this. how you wanted him to have you.

slow and deep, without any intent to rush through this.

anton hisses behind you, his bottom lip is caught beneath his top row of teeth as he watches your hole flutter around his cock.

a second passes before you lean forward and retreat again, just as unhurried in speed as before. you unintentionally clench and unclench, head spinning at the way anton fills you to the brim, your movements allowing him to him to bottom out completely. 

“shit—can you feel how deep you are now, ton? i’m sooo full.” you whine, mind racing as you ignore the sudden urge to feel shy while trapped under his stare.

anton places a hand on your lower back.

for leverage, not control.

“y-yeah,” he rasps, chest heaving as he has to fight off his orgasm even harder than before. “i can feel all of you, baby.”

his eyes travel down to where you’re connected and his hips buck forward on their own, disrupting your flow and forcing a gasp out of you.

every time the back of your thighs meet the top of his, your flesh slightly recoils, making him whisper a rushed “fuuuuck” under his breath. a faint smacking noise echoes across the four walls of your bedroom.

after some time you and anton silently agree on this pace you’ve set, then you’re planting both your hands back on the bed in front of you. 

instead of drawing yourself back and forth on his cock you let him have free reign, trusting that he understood what you needed.

the first controlled roll of his hips has you groaning, the sound is muffled by the sheets beneath you. your is cunt immediately responsive—dramatically squelching around anton’s cock, strangling like he’d try to run away.

“fuck! antonnnn,” you whimper, your breathing heavy and labored.

“right there, baby? is this what you wanted, am i doing a good job?” anton whines, tone nauseatingly sweet. him fishing for praise causes you to moan in response and you figure it's a better reply than none, words barely at the forefront of your mind.

he can’t help himself, pulling a hand away from its place on your hip to land an open handed smack on your right ass cheek.

you don’t mind at all—and he knows that. the sting has your mind hazy, body jerking and lips parted to whimper.

anton’s eyes are once again glued to where you’re intertwined. he's shockingly composed while he intentionally watches the way your pussy devours every inch of him, greedy and unashamed. 

but the moment he notices a white ring forming at the base of his cock he loses it.

his hips stutter and his head is thrown back. the noises that leave his mouth hit the ceiling before they meet your ears but the vulnerability of him whining and begging has you spent.

“you’re milking me dry,” anton pants, hips still meticulously grinding, occasional strokes so deep that your body threatens to fold further. “fuck—it’s like you're trying to swallow me whole.”

you feel dizzy at the sound of him of all people fixing his lips to say something so obscene.

“toni—c-close!” you mewl, throat growing dry with the way your mouth had been hanging open.

your head tilts, struggling to find the strength that allows you to spare a glance at anton over your shoulder. 

when your eyes do reach him you have to stop them from falling towards the back of your head again. 

“i know, baby.” anton coos, eyes trained well as they stay planted on you. 

then everything comes to a halt. 

you don’t have time to register what’s happening but you’re immediately whining at the loss of anton inside of you, lips fixed in a pout ready to complain.

meanwhile the same hands that dug into you, anchoring you to bed, are forcing you flat on your back and you’re met with a greedy gaze as anton hovers over you.

his ample lips are parted and looking excessively chewed on. he’s drenched in sweat, hair a mess—the longer pieces stuck to the sides of his neck as a sign of him avoiding a haircut for a few months. 

he tilts his hips, the blunt head of his cock nudging your throbbing clit. a cry leaves the back of your throat and you clench around nothing.

“toni, please.” you beg, already reaching between your legs to guide him back to where you needed him most.

“please? what happened to slowing down?” anton quips, tilting his head in forged confusion before taking your hand in his own and  placing it beside your head.

his eyes fall to your chest, watching the way your nipples harden, bust trembling with each jagged breath you take.  

whatever would’ve been next to leave your lips is left unsaid. anton’s already holding your thigh flush to his side, hips pressed forward at once until he’s buried to the hilt. he catches you completely off guard and you're positive that the way your face contorts is extreme.

with literally anybody else, missionary may have felt mediocre. 

but the weight of anton’s cock had you at a loss for words, forcing your chin toward the ceiling to avoid drool slipping out the sides of your mouth.

“nng—you’re so big, toni!” you moan, reaching out towards the man in front of you.

your grip finds his bicep, crescent moons indented in his skin as evidence of your squeeze. the corners of his lips twitch, but the smirk is wiped from his face in a heartbeat because your cunt continues to smother every sinful inch of him.

“you gotta stop squeezing, baby—fuck,” anton pants, abdomen flexing as you pulse around his rock hard cock. “i can’t move.”

“i’m trying, i swear.” you whine, eyes fluttering and struggling to stay open. “j-just so f-full.” 

you’re cockdrunk.

but it was nothing new, and there was not a lick of humiliation to be felt.

not while you think you can feel the tip of anton’s dick poking at your ribs.

after a few shallow breaths you feel two slender digits heavy and hot on your clit. the pressure loosens your hold on the breach between your legs, allowing anton to continue with slow thrusts.

your pussy is dribbling, the sheets beneath you completely soiled—no thanks to your boyfriend and the pit of your stomach has gone static, every surface of your body tacky with sweat.

when your ankles lock behind anton’s back to force him impossibly closer he let's out a strangled grunt. you can tell he’s straining every muscle in his body, forcing his hip not to snap into you. his jaw is clenched and his fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh so hard that you hiss.

your own hands come up to grasp at the supple flesh of your tits, anton’s eyes are glued to the way you begin to fondle your nipples. his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip like he hasn’t eaten in days and you’re dangling a steak in front of him.

moving your hands out of the way he leans forwards until he’s within tonguing distance.

the first contact between his pout and your nipples has your toes curling until you feel a cramp. each breath you take ends in a whine, back arched towards anton.

“so good to me, ton.” you practically purr, hands cradling the sides of his head. your entire chest vibrates when he hums, biting down. not hard enough to actually hurt but the slight ache causes goosebumps to cover your body in an instant.

anton can tell you’re close when your hips that have been matching each of his thrusts grow sloppy, rhythm lost.

forcing your legs wide he holds you by the calf and places one of your ankles atop his shoulder, taking note of the way the next noise to leave you sounds similar to a sob.

“feels like you’re splitting me in half—goddd!” you whine, cut off by the gasp that rips through your chest when one of anton’s hands skillfully toys with your clit again. it’s gentle, the way his fingers circle and pinch just enough to make you tremble a bit.

it doesn’t take much longer for you to warn the man above you that you’re cumming. 

anton’s right behind you, breathing sporadically as his hips remain slow but less fluid due to each hot spurt of cum that he stuffs right back inside.

you're leaking an awful lot, every foggy through the length of your orgasm. but it's not too loud, you’re not begging him to pull out because it’s too much or clawing up the bed at the burn of overstimulation.

it was just enough.

before anton pulls out he places a kiss on the inside of your ankle that rests on his shoulder right next to his head, then he's lowering your leg until it’s flat against the mattress once again.

your eyes are nearly closed when you feel a pair of lips on yours. you melt into the kiss, a gentle hand holding anton at the side of his face. you’re greedily chasing after his lips when he tries to pull away.

when you finally have the energy you roll onto your side, awaiting anton’s entry into your field of view. your ears are ringing slightly as you lay still, beaming.

“you were right,” anton blurts out bashfully, his ears grow crimson. 

propped up on his elbow and completely facing you now he lifts his hand to your face, thumb carefully tracing the expanse of your cheek. “sorry you had to uh…tell me to slow down—well, for you to enjoy it i mean.”

your eyebrows furrow, chest heavy as you’re filled with admiration for the man in front of you. nudging your cheek further into the palm of his hand you turn your head to plant a peck there.

“don’t be ridiculous, toni.” you rasp, raising your own hand to brush the hair near his eyes away.

“i always enjoy myself,” you scoot closer. “i didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t satisfying me. you satisfy me plenty.” you emphasize the last word with a nudge of his cheek that now rests in your hand.

his massive eyes soften, pools of honey locked on yours. then he nods, lips curling at the sides as he fails to mask his relief at your confession. 

your hand returns to your side and then your head hits the pillow beneath you with a thud as you hold eye contact. now you’re the one grinning, lips parting again and voice no louder than a whisper. 

you’re sprawled across the living room floor surrounded by highlighters, flashcards, and that stupidly thick anatomy textbook that’s been mocking you for three hours straight. the muscles of the upper limb section is kicking your ass tonight; origin, insertion, innervation, action… everything is blurring together and your brain feels like mush.

a soft chuckle comes from the couch behind you.

“still fighting with the deltoid?” anton’s deep voice is gentle, a little amused. he’s been quietly gaming with one ear off so he could keep an eye on you.

you groan dramatically and flop onto your back, staring at the ceiling. “i’m gonna fail this practical if i can’t keep all these stupid attachments straight. why do there have to be so many layers?”

you hear him set the controller down. then the couch creaks, and suddenly anton is on the floor with you, long limbs folding as he sits cross-legged. his oversized black hoodie and sweats make him look extra cuddly, but those sharp cheekbones and sleepy eyes are unfairly pretty even when he’s just trying to be helpful.

“here,” he says simply, tugging the hoodie off in one smooth motion. the thin white t-shirt underneath rides up a little, revealing a sliver of smooth, toned stomach. “use me.”

you blink. “huh?”

“you need to learn the muscles, right? i’ve got muscles.” he gives you that shy little smile that always makes your heart flip. “i’m right here. touch, poke, trace—whatever helps. i’ll be your living model.”

heat rushes to your face instantly. “anton… you don’t have to—”

“i want to.” he scoots closer until his knees brush yours. “c’mon, baby. it’ll be fun. and maybe i’ll learn something too.”

you hesitate for half a second before grabbing your textbook and crawling over to him. he stretches out on his back obediently, arms relaxed at his sides, watching you with those big dark eyes. the t-shirt clings to his chest and shoulders in the best way.

you start safe. shoulder area. your fingers press lightly over the fabric, tracing the curve of his deltoid.

“origin on the clavicle and scapula… insertion on the humerus…” you mutter, more to yourself than him, but anton hums in encouragement anyway. your palm slides down to his bicep and you feel the muscle twitch under your touch when you gently squeeze.

“flex,” you whisper.

he does, slowly curling his arm so the biceps peaks beautifully. you can’t help the tiny gasp that escapes. it’s firmer than you expected, warm skin under thin cotton, the vein along the muscle standing out just a little.

“good?” he asks, voice lower than before.

“yeah… really good.” your fingers drift lower, mapping the brachialis, then the triceps on the back of his arm when he flips it for you. every time you press or stroke, anton’s breathing gets a little deeper.

you move to his chest next. when your hands slide under the hem of his shirt and push it up, he lifts his arms without being asked so you can bunch the fabric under his collarbones. his abs contract slightly as cool air hits his skin. eight subtle lines you’ve kissed a hundred times but never studied quite like this.

“rectus abdominis…” you murmur, fingertips dancing along the ridges. “external obliques… transverse abdominis…”

anton lets out a shaky breath when your nails graze the sensitive skin just above his waistband. “you’re really focused, huh?”

“trying to be,” you admit, cheeks burning. but your hands are lingering now, no longer just clinical. you press your whole palm flat over his pectoralis major, feeling the firm muscle and the way his heart beats faster underneath.

his hand comes up to cover yours, guiding it slowly across his chest. “this one’s pectoralis major. helps with adduction and medial rotation… right?”

you laugh softly. “show-off.”

“i pay attention when my girlfriend talks about school.” he tugs you gently so you’re half-draped over him. “keep going. i like your hands on me.”

the air between you shifts. the textbook is forgotten on the carpet as you straddle one of his thighs for better access, your knees bracketing his hips. you trace the serratus anterior along his ribs, then back up to his trapezius when he sits up a little so you can reach his back and shoulders. every new muscle you name, you reward with a kiss. soft at first, then slower, wetter.

“latissimus dorsi…” you whisper against the wide muscle of his back, lips brushing skin as you push his shirt higher.

anton groans quietly, hands settling on your waist. “baby…”

you can feel him getting hard against your thigh where you’re pressed together. the innocent study session is long gone. you rock your hips experimentally, grinding down on the firm bulge in his sweats, and he hisses through his teeth.

“fuck… keep doing that,” he murmurs, voice husky.

your hands grow bolder. you shove his shirt all the way off and let your mouth follow where your fingers have been kissing, licking, gently biting the defined lines of his abs while your palm slides lower, cupping him through the fabric. he’s so warm, so hard already, twitching under your touch.

“quadriceps…” you tease breathlessly as your fingers trace the long muscles of his thigh, squeezing the thick muscle there before slipping higher, brushing over his inner thigh. anton’s hips buck up involuntarily.

he suddenly flips you both so you’re on your back, his tall frame hovering over you, eyes dark and hungry. “my turn to study,” he whispers, pushing your shirt up and pressing open-mouthed kisses along your stomach.

his long fingers dip under your waistband, sliding your shorts and panties down in one go. when his palm cups between your legs, he groans at how wet you already are.

“soaked just from touching me? cute…” he circles your clit slowly with two fingers, then slips one inside, curling it perfectly while his thumb keeps rubbing. you moan, thighs trembling around his wrist.

“anton—ah—right there…”

he adds a second finger, pumping steadily, his mouth latching onto your neck, sucking a pretty mark while his free hand kneads your breast. every thrust of his fingers makes your back arch, pleasure building fast and hot.

“gonna come for me, baby? wanna feel you on my fingers first…”

you do, clenching around him with a broken whine, hips grinding against his hand as the orgasm washes over you. he keeps moving gently until you’re panting and boneless beneath him.

only then does he pull his fingers out, licking them clean with a shy-but-filthy little smile. “best study method ever.”

you laugh weakly, reaching down to tug at his sweats. “your turn… i still need to practice the hip flexors…”

he helps you push his sweats and boxers down, his cock springing free. long, flushed, and leaking at the tip. you wrap your hand around him, stroking slowly while he groans into your mouth, kissing you deep and messy.

“inside,” you whisper against his lips. “want you.”

anton nods, lining himself up and sinking into you in one smooth thrust. the stretch is perfect, filling you so good you both moan. he stays still for a second, forehead pressed to yours, then starts moving slow, deep rolls of his hips that hit every spot.

“so tight… fuck, you feel amazing,” he pants, one hand braced beside your head while the other grips your thigh, spreading you wider.

you cling to his shoulders, nails digging into the very muscles you were studying earlier as he picks up the pace, thrusting harder, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. when he angles just right and grinds against your clit with every stroke, you cry out, coming again around him.

anton follows right after, burying himself deep with a low groan, hips stuttering as he fills you up.

after, he collapses half on top of you, both of you sweaty and breathing hard. he presses soft kisses to your temple, your cheek, your lips. sweet again, like the gentle boyfriend who offered to help in the first place.

“same time tomorrow?” he mumbles sleepily, nuzzling your neck. “i think you still need to review the gluteus maximus…”

you smack his chest weakly, laughing. “shut up, lee anton.”