anton brought home the wrong strawberry milk again. the regular kind instead of the one with the cute pink cap you like. now you’re sprawled dramatically across the couch like the world is ending, arms crossed, refusing to look at him.
he walks in from the kitchen, still in his oversized black hoodie, looking unfairly soft and tall. “baby… i’m really sorry. the store only had this one left. i can run back out if you—”
“no,” you snap, cutting him off with a dramatic huff. “it’s fiiine. i’ll just suffer in silence like a tragic little peasant.”
anton doesn’t sigh. he doesn’t roll his eyes or get annoyed. he just crouches down in front of the couch so he’s eye-level with you, that gentle understanding smile on his face.
“you’re being a tiny bit bratty tonight, hm?”
your heart does a flip but you double down harder. “maybe i am. what are you gonna do about it, lee anton? ground me?”
he chuckles softly, the sound warm and low. “nope. i can just sit here with you until you feel like being my sweet girl again.” he reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “or you can tell me what’s really bothering you instead of pouting over milk.”
you turn your face into the pillow and mumble, “you’re annoying when you’re all calm and nice. it’s suspicious.”
“am i?” he hums, standing up only to sit on the edge of the couch and pull your legs into his lap. his big hands start rubbing slow circles on your calves, thumbs pressing just right. “tell me, pretty. i’m listening.”
the gentle massage feels too good. your bratty armor is already cracking. you kick your foot lightly against his thigh. “stop being sweet. i’m trying to be mad at you.”
“i know,” he says patiently, hands sliding higher under the hem of your shorts, massaging your thighs now. “but you’re so cute when you’re bratty. makes me want to remind you how much i love taking care of you.”
you huff again, but it comes out weaker. “you’re not allowed to be this nice when i’m mad.”
anton leans down and presses a soft kiss to your knee, then another higher up your thigh. “why not? i like my girl even when she’s acting up.”
the kisses keep going. slow, warm, open-mouthed against your inner thigh. your resolve is crumbling fast.
“stop it,” you whine, but your legs are already parting a little. “i’m still mad.”
“are you?” he murmurs, voice dropping just a fraction as he pushes your shorts aside. his breath ghosts over your panties. “because you’re getting wet, baby.”
you try to close your legs but he gently holds them open with those big hands. “anton—”
“shhh. let daddy take care of his bratty girl.”
he tugs your shorts and panties down in one smooth motion, then dives in. tongue licking slow stripes through your folds before sucking gently on your clit. you moan loudly, hands flying to his hair.
he eats you out like he has all the time in the world. patient, thorough, humming softly every time you twitch. every time you try to act tough again he slows down until you’re whimpering and begging.
“please… i’m sorry for being bratty…”
“i know you are,” he whispers against your pussy, two long fingers sliding inside you and curling perfectly. “but you still need to learn to use your words instead of pouting.”
he fingers you slow and deep while his mouth works your clit, building you right to the edge… then stops.
you whine pathetically. “anton—!”
he sits up, wiping his shiny lips, eyes dark but still so gentle. “you wanna come, baby?”
you nod frantically, all bratty energy gone.
“then ask nicely.”
“…please let me come, daddy.”
he smiles, that soft victorious smile, and pulls you into his lap so you’re straddling him. he frees his cock. thick, hard and guides you down slowly, letting you feel every inch stretch you open.
“that’s my good girl,” he praises as you sink all the way down. “so small and tight on me… look how well you take daddy.”
he doesn’t let you move at first. just holds your hips still while he kisses you deep and slow, whispering against your lips.
“no more pouting over silly things, okay? if something’s wrong, you tell me. daddy’s here to fix it.”
you nod, already grinding down desperately. “yes— i’m sorry— please—”
only then does he let you ride him. big hands guiding your hips, thrusting up to meet you, hitting so deep you see stars. one hand sneaks up to squeeze your breast, thumb brushing your nipple while the other delivers one light spank to your ass when you start getting sloppy.
“slow down, baby. let daddy do the work.”
he flips you onto your back without pulling out, fucking you with those deep, steady rolls that make the bed creak. every thrust presses his body against yours, reminding you how much bigger he is.
you come hard. shaking, crying out his name, nails digging into his shoulders. anton follows right after, burying himself deep and filling you up with a low groan.
afterwards he collapses half on top of you, pressing soft kisses all over your face while you’re still panting.
“still mad about the strawberry milk?” he teases quietly, nuzzling your neck.
you bury your burning face in his chest, voice tiny and shy now. “no… you win. i’m sorry for being a huge brat.”
anton chuckles, hugging you tighter, still buried inside you. “i always win when you’re my good girl again. next time just tell me you’re feeling little and needy instead of throwing a tantrum, okay?”
you nod sleepily, already melting completely.
“yes, daddy.”
he smiles against your hair, stroking your back with those big gentle hands.
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