omi doesnt ask if you want kids. he doesnt need to. he can tell by the way you clench around him when he pants 'gonna fill you up til it takes. gonna make you real happy'. he doesnt need to ask, because you just whimper 'yes please, omi, please' when he mutters 'cant wait to be a daddy' to himself.
he doesnt need to ask.
oh so that's how we wanna play.....
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"wanna give you a baby, omi." you keen as he taps your sweet spot over, and over, and over. He doesn't let up at all. omi drops his arms that were supporting him to curl around you in a vice like grip-- almost as tight as your cunt wrapped around his cock.
he pants into your neck. "we can put another one in when this first one is out."
you can feel his smirk on your skin and thread your fingers into his curly hair and tug hard. he returns that in kind with grinding his cockhead into your cervix. you know what omi's doing; he's lining up to shoot his seed into your womb.
"i'll make you a daddy as many time as you want, just don't stop!" you cry out.
you can't hear his reply over the slapping of skin when he sets a harsher pace, though you can feel his out of breath laughter through your chest pressing against his.
he'll get his kids from you. it was only a matter of time.
