your husband really wants a baby !
this request breeding / lactation kink / pussyeating
he comes through the door exhausted—drained, tense, worn down everywhere except the place that lights up the second he sees you.
you’re on the bed, soft and warm and thick in every place he loves, and he’s already undoing his shirt as he’s walking toward you because he can’t stand being away from your body a second longer.
“come here,” he mutters, but he’s the one dropping to his knees first.
before you can answer, his hands slide up your thighs, squeezing deep, slow handfuls like he needs to feel the weight of you under his palms before he can breathe right again.
he pushes your knees apart, then leans in and lifts your top just enough to get his mouth on your tits.
he groans—loud, needy—the moment they spill into his hands. he squeezes them like he owns them, like he’s been dreaming about them all day.
his mouth closes around one nipple, tongue flicking, sucking hard, trying to coax something out of you that your body doesn’t give yet.
you gasp, back arching, thighs tensing.
he moans against your skin.
not disappointed—turned on. painfully so.
he pulls back just enough to look at your tits, flushed and wet from his mouth, nipples hard from his tongue.
his mouth trails down your stomach, slow and heavy, leaving warm open-mouthed kisses on the softest parts of you as he goes.
every inch of you he touches softens under him, warms under him, pulls a sound out of his chest that feels closer to a growl than a breath.
he climbs into you with his hands first—palms spreading over your stomach, fingers kneading deeper into your thighs like he needs to memorize every curve, every dip, every place he wants to fill.
your thighs fall open for him on instinct, and that’s all it takes. he hooks his arm under one leg, pushes it up and out of his way, and leans in like he’s starving, mouth latching back onto your tits with a need that borders on desperation.
he sucks harder this time—slow, dragging pulls that make your nipples ache, that make your back lift off the bed as he works them, tongue circling the peak before he sucks again. he moans each time he does it like he’s willing your body to change under his mouth.
when nothing comes out—when your breasts stay full and beautiful but dry—he pulls back just a fraction, breath shaking, eyes dark with the frustration of wanting something your body hasn’t given him yet.
“i want these to flow for me,” he murmurs against your chest, squeezing your tits together, rolling your nipples between his fingers until you gasp, “and i’ll keep you full until they do.”
your breath stumbles, and he smiles—a slow, hungry smile meant for only you—then dips his head to suck your nipple again while his free hand moves lower, sliding between your thighs, fingers brushing through your slick.
you’re already dripping for him.
he groans the moment he feels it.
“that’s it… body’s trying,” he mutters, voice thick and low, “just needs more of my cum. needs it often. needs it deep.”
he moves down your body with a heat that makes your head spin, mouth dragging across your ribs, tongue flicking at the underside of your breasts, lips brushing over your stomach like he’s worshipping you on his way to the place he wants most.
your pussy is soaked—warm, swollen, slick enough that he can smell you before he even touches you. his eyes go half-lidded and ravenous.
and then his mouth is on you.
no warm-up, no teasing—just lips and tongue and spit and hunger. he buries his face between your thighs, groaning into your pussy like he’s inhaling life itself.
his tongue drags a slow path from your dripping entrance up to your clit, and when you gasp he sucks it into his mouth like he’s been waiting all day to taste you.
you grind against his mouth without meaning to. he moans like you’ve given him permission.
“that’s it,” he pants into your heat, voice breathless, “give it to me… let me taste everything.”
he sucks your clit again, harder this time, tongue rubbing circles while his nose nudges against your swollen folds. slick smears across his chin, coating his mouth, dripping down toward the bed as he eats you with thick, messy strokes that make your thighs shake.
his hands never stop moving. one arm stays wrapped under your thigh, keeping it hooked high and open, while the other moves back up to your breasts. he cups one, then the other, thumbs brushing your nipples almost reverently before he rolls them between his fingers again.
you gasp, and he groans against your pussy.
“i’m gonna fuck you full,” he whispers against your clit, voice almost shaking, “breed you so deep your body starts preparing… tits getting heavier… nipples getting sensitive… milk coming in slow… you’ll give me everything.”
his tongue plunges into your cunt before you can even catch your breath. he fucks you with it, sloppy and desperate, gripping your thigh harder when your hips jerk, holding you right where he wants you so he can lick deeper, push harder, taste more.
the sounds he makes are obscene—wet, greedy slurps mixed with low growls and breathless groans—like he’s devouring something he’s needed for years.
he slides two fingers into you without warning, thrusting them deep while his mouth latches back onto your clit.
the sudden stretch makes you moan out, thighs trembling around his head. he moans at the way your pussy grips him, pumping his fingers in deep, slow strokes meant to open you for what he’s planning next.
“gonna fuck you right after this,” he breathes, curling his fingers until your back arches, “gonna fill you so many times tonight your body won’t know how to stay empty.”
his tongue flicks fast, his fingers thrust harder, and his free hand squeezes your tits again.
your whole body tightens. your breath stutters. your thighs shudder against his shoulders as he devours you without stopping, without slowing, without giving you a chance to come down from anything building inside you.
and he’s not stopping until your body starts changing for him.
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