#subby!anton

all you wanted to do was quietly use the bathroom and you decided to leave the light off to like… save energy. only to end up being scared out of your skin by one of anton’s late night companions.

“god, what the hell!” the girl jumped backwards, almost hitting her head on the doorframe as you reached to cover yourself. “who are you??”

you raised a brow. you knew who she could have been, but—

“girl, who are you?” you countered.

you knew damn well you should have kept your mouth shut, because you got called the fuck out. ‘well, anton didn’t say he had a girlfriend, are you his girlfriend? did i just wreck a home?’ uh.. no. ‘how come you weren’t here when we got back but you’re here now?’ uhh… ‘if you’re not his girl, and he has no roommates, why are you here in the middle of the night?’ … — deep down you knew you were the problem here.

unlike anton, you weren’t lucky enough to have parents who would pay for you to live in a nice little apartment for the entirety of college, so you lived with your two roommates; one of which was at the height of a lover’s quarrel with her partner. things had gotten so bad between them that the morning of this incident — or rather the morning before — seeing as it happened at around 2am, anton kindly agreed to let you come back to his place after you finished work, and spend the weekend there. and so, you weren’t there when anton and this poor girl got back to his apartment, because your shift ended about an hour after they had knocked each other out. you poor soul.

“why would you say that?” anton laughed at you, “you don’t live here.”

like you didn’t know that… asshole. you flopped down in one of the dining chairs, attempting to flip your half drank water bottle, at his kitchen table. and failing. “i just couldn’t stop myself from giving attitude. because, why are you trying to talk to me and i’m on the toilet… i needed her gone out the room.”

“well. she’s never gonna text me now.”

“no?” you rose a brow at him, “well, would you have responded?”

anton was notorious (within your two person friendship) for losing the numbers of girls that he slept with. that or somehow indirectly manifesting for them to lose his number, so he had no choice but to move on to the next. he didn’t see this as sleazy, fuckboy activity, however. he was simply just moving forwards through life. so in response to your question? anton just smiled back at you from where he was stood in the kitchenette. he didn’t know the answer. not for sure at least.

“you know she thought we were dating. she was so mad at you.”

his eyebrows shot up, “well, did you defend me?”

“i said i would never date you, and that i was visiting because of the thing with my roommate.” in a display of nonchalance, you pressed down on your baby hairs and just looked on at him.

“wow,” anton pushed up off the counter and took his bowl to the sink. “that’s sweet of you.”

“y’know.” you waited for him to turn back and face you. “if i was one of these girls, i would hate the both of us.”

“why?”

you looked towards the ceiling, as if to try and find the words to say. “well, i feel like i’m always here— like at your place. and we know almost everything about each other, i got a key to your house; we’re just, like, a little too close.”

“first of all, you’re not here enough—”

you shot him a glare and he threw his hands up in defence. “anton, do you not see the problem with that statement?”

anton pursed his lips in supposedly deep thought. “damn. i think you’ve been cockblocking me.”

the way your brain short-circuited hearing him say that— usually it was you cursing. never him. “you’ve been cockblocking yourself, toni.”

“no, but i’m being serious. the girl i brought home was not the first girl i talked to that night. that usually doesn’t happen.” anton came to sit by you at the table, putting a chair right next to yours but turning it the opposite direction so he could be facing you. subconsciously, you rest your feet on his thighs causing him to catch your ankles in his hands as you tried not to roll your eyes at possibly the most sleazy, frat boy coded statement you had ever heard.

“do you actually hear yourself sometimes? this is not the sweet toni i grew up with. you’re something else.”

“god, you’re right.” he laughed out. “i think all the attention is getting to my head.”

you leaned forward towards him, “oh, you think so?”

anton pushed your shoulder gently, “leave me alone, i’m coming to terms with it, i’m—” he struggled to find the word, “i’m self-reflecting.”

and then he paused. “does our friendship get you any less romantic attention?”

“hmm.” you had to think about it. though anton claims not to be a fuckboy intentionally — or what you liked to call a ‘self-proclaimed pussy magnet’ — you knew yourself that you weren’t as… sexually outgoing (?) as anton. “no less than i had before, i guess. people that know you, know about our weird little friendship and then; you poor thing, you have to talk to two girls before you can get laid. but the people that know just me don’t necessarily know about our weird little friendship.”

“huh.”

“‘cause i’m not trying to be like one of those girls that tells everyone about, ‘my homeboy this, my homeboy that’ and then everyone assumes we’re fucking and i cant even defend myself.”

anton tried to ignore his face warming up, “no, yeah. hah, is that really a thing?” a thought was definitely being formed.

“yes, bro, even i cringe at it. i don’t wanna be that girl.”

“wait so, some of these guys, these friends, are actually like, sleeping with each other?” anton scratched the back of his neck, that was prickling with nerves.

“i mean, yeah, probably. the way they act.” you just laughed obliviously while anton’s mind started to fill up with ideas. like, say, if you were the kind of person who talked to others about your friendship with anton. would people think you’re so close that you might as well just.. be with each other? would people accuse you of sleeping together or dating even if you weren’t?

“yo, imagine if that was us…”

your head jolted in his direction and pure confusion painted your features in an incredulous expression, “anton, can you not… oh my god.”

his head dropped in laughter. as well as defeat.

but you missed that, so you continued. “no, that would be horrible. why would you even put that in my head?”

“so, i’m actually right here.” anton waved his hand at you and you laughed.

“no, no,” rushing to defend yourself, “not in a mean way, i just. i wouldn’t like the attention from people and, yeah, no. i don’t know.”

“yeah, okay. i get that.”

“why do you ask anyway? what would you think if it was us?” you prodded back. you would never let him ask such a stressful question without getting him back. you needed to get even.

“oh.” anton was starting to think he should have never tried it with you. however. you getting that nervous from his initial asking the question gave him a slither of confidence. “i mean. i think that it would be interesting. it’d be kinda cool to see if we could get to know each other any more than we already do.”

“in what sense?”

“like sex stuff.” anton’s voice was soft and quiet. “like what you’re into, stuff like that.”

“wouldn’t you like to know, chanyoung.”

he smiled at you, squinting in acknowledgement of your teasing “i would. tell me something.”

you gave it some thought before replying, “are you serious?”

he replied, “are you?”

you weren’t entirely sure what that meant, but you took at as a case of ‘i am if you are, and if you’re not, neither am i.’

“okay, anton. it’s 9 in the morning, but sure uh.. i like a submissive man.”

the tips of anton’s ears grew hot. “oh, wow. tell me more.”

you laughed in his face. because no way these are the lines he uses when he’s picking up girls every other night. this was going to be the most embarrassing conversation you had ever had. like, ever. you crossed your legs over each other, still over anton’s thighs.

“there’s nothing more to that statement really. your turn.”

“i like… kissing. but not just normal kissing like.. kissing.” he dragged the word out a little, really putting umph on it like you were gonna know exactly what he was talking about. you were so annoyed.

“be so for real for a second.”

“what?!”

you sighed. “no, cause i really got a lot from that, thank you. now, i wish i’d kept quiet.”

“what, no! i’m just bad at explaining things.” you tried to retract your legs from anton’s and he grabbed your calf in attempts to stop you from curling in on yourself out of pure embarrassment.

you covered your face. “yeah, really bad.”

“listen, i could show you better than i can tell you.”

“i bet you could, toni, but that’s not gonna turn back time.” you immediately shot him down. before you realised. “wait okay, you can show me.”

“oh, i didn’t think you’d agree. i thought the idea of getting intimate with me was horrible?”

“i mean that’s if people are aware of it and like… try to talk to me about it at school. right now, nobody knows. so i guess it’s less horrible.”

“alright, c’mere.” anton held out his hand for you to lean into, taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. gently pecking your lips a couple times before ghosting the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip, asking for permission. he ran the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip before pulling away just slightly to whisper, “can you open up a little?”

you furrowed your brows up at him and he took that as confusion, laughing a little “i wanna put my tongue there.”

you parted your lips a little and he kissed you with tongue, making the both of you sigh quietly. with each movement of his jaw and of his lips against yours, his tongue made contact with yours and it triggered a build of warmth in your lower abdomen. each time his tongue licked into your mouth, it pulled a whine out of the back of your throat. your hands rose up into his hair and your breathing started to quicken. at this point, even though you were feeling significantly warmer than you did a few seconds ago, you still didn’t realise what made this any different from ‘regular’ kissing. you figured anton was just being dramatic. that was until he sucked your tongue into his mouth along with your bottom lip. this made you straight up moan — you had to pull away.

“holy shit, anton.”

anton wiped the saliva off of his plush lips with his thumb. “see it’s like kissing but it’s kissing.”

“what the hell.” you huffed out in a deep exhale, twisting a curl around one of your fingers. you didn’t even know what to do with yourself after that.

anton tried to stop his eyes from dropping down to your heaving chest in the tight baby tee you were wearing as pajamas. he wanted to remain composed after putting the moves on you; maintain his shy, yet simultaneously confident demeanour. and then he remembered what you mentioned earlier. anton softened his voice ever so slightly. —if that was even possible.

“you know, you’re a really good kisser.” he held eye contact with you and the delivery of his sentence immediately made you wet.

“um, thank you.”

anton leaned closer to you, keeping his voice hushed despite the fact that you were the only two people in the apartment. “i didn’t expect it to, but kissing you made me really hard.”

“shit, really?” you were overwhelmed. you had just been kissed breathless by your best friend and now he was laying his truths all out on the table.

“i know you feel a type of way about it, but… i wanna fuck you."

“anton…”

“please,” you felt his thumbs rub you from both sides of your hips that he was now holding in his hands. he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth that made your eyes flutter closed. “i know it would feel so good.”

“toni, when you ask me like that—“

“you like that?” anton practically purred before attaching his soft lips to the curve of your neck. his hand slid down the front of your pajama pants to start rubbing you over your panties at a torturingly slow pace. “when i beg you like that? i know you do, you’re soaked.”

“fuck, toni…” you grabbed onto his shoulder for balance, lifting one of your knees higher to grant him a better angle at rubbing those tight circles over your bundle of nerves.

“hey, look at me.” he rubbed your clit faster, “can i make you cum before i fuck this pussy? huh? please?”

you could only lean back and moan in response.

“come on you gotta tell me. can i please?”

“mm-hm. yes, yes, baby.”

you dug your nails into his bicep and he groaned. “can i get i kiss, too?”

in a low whine, you pressed your lips to his, moaning into his mouth as you started getting closer to orgasm.

“yeah, moan for me just like that, baby. that’s so fucking hot. you gonna cum for me?”

you nodded at him and he continued with the same relentless pace of his fingers against your clothed clit until your hips started to shake with your orgasm.

“fuck, you’re so sexy when you cum for me. you gonna let me fuck you, mama?”

you were breathless in shock. in all your years of being friends with this anton, he had never talked so nasty.

anton swiftly lifted you onto the table and yanked your pajama pants down with your panties. with big, soft hands, he kneaded your thighs, “you’re dripping in front of me.”

“well, i just came.”

this made anton laugh, “well, i’m gonna make you cum again. ‘kay?”

you nodded as he pulled his dick out of his basketball shorts and started to jerk himself off, rubbing his tip against your slit. you went to hold onto his back with one hand and he took this as a sign that you were ready for him. pushing into you slowly, he muffled his own moan against your lips.

somehow, after only just put his dick in you, he was already a mess. “mmh, fuck you feel good. you feel so good around me.”

anton’s arms wrapped under your thighs, and started bringing your hips to meet his faster.

“fuck, toni, right there!”

he moaned into a sloppy kiss to your lips, “mm, right there? ‘m i hitting it right?”

“yes, keep going. you’re doing so good..”

anton didn’t change his position, only moving one of his hands to start rubbing your clit again. “fuck, keep talking to me like that.”

you held his neck to pull him closer to you, “you’re so good. and you look so pretty when you’re fucking me.”

all of your praise was going straight to anton’s dick. he was visibly finding it increasingly harder to keep himself together. he leaned forward to get closer to you, grinding his hips into yours. peppering kisses all over your bare chest.

“ah- uhm, i wanna cum. wanna cum for you.” anton’s voice was barely above a whisper as he rambled against your chest, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth to mumble his pathetic sounds. although, to no avail, he was still mumbling to you, teeth grazing the skin.

“you can cum toni, i’m close too.”

“you gotta cum first, baby,” what a gentleman. “if you cum first that’s gonna make me c-cum.” anton whined flicking his tongue against one of your nipples as if to punctuate, “ugh, please.”

maybe about 30 more seconds of anton’s desperate whimpering pushed you over the edge. and you didn’t want to dwell to much on why this was, but it was surely one of the most pleasurable orgasms you had ever had. and the irregular clenching of your pussy around his dick was completely it for him. he pulled out of you cautiously and instead of jerking himself to completion all over your naked body, he was reduced to grinding against your wet pussy, panting and sighing until his own orgasm washed over him.

“shit, anton are you crying?” you cradled his face, wiping away a stray tear with your thumb. he couldn’t even reply — he was inside of you, but you fucked the shit out of him.

“i’m a fuckin’ mess. i think we might have some built up tension or something.” anton got up from where he was leant against your chest. he pulled his shorts up and flopped down into a dining chair, dropping his head down onto one of your thighs where your legs were hanging off the table.

you shifted from your position of sitting up on your elbows to laying your back flat on the kitchen table. “don’t even say that.”

“okay.”

the two of you sat in your silence. it was comfortable silence for you, you hoped it was for him too.

without moving from where he was laid on your thigh, anton’s hand tapped against your leg to grab your attention. “so was that horrible for you, or?”

you could only laugh. “shut the fuck up, anton.”