pregnant sex with roman?
hold the phone pause all lines. breaking my mini hiatus to say……..holy shit don’t fucking bring that up around these parts???? i’m gonna start ovulating if pregnancy is brought up again. so. 3.5k word drabble here we cum!
Roman knows your freakish fascination for 'daddy' shit, all the pregnancy and breeding stuff. For one, he isn’t stupid; secondly, the two of you have been fucking longer than the year or so you’ve been married – he knows you, you can’t hide this shit from him. Which is exactly why, when you tell him you’re pregnant – despite how scared you are, no matter how weird it feels to actually be pregnant – he strongly suggests you keep it.
You’d be a good mother, after all. Not just because you basically had to help re-raise him and shit, but because you just have that instinct. You’re a bitch but you’re a softie. Babies stare and you hold back a grin, he notices. You’re a fucking corporate killer at times, and can probably hold your own in most situations, but you’re weirdly gentle in the way that makes him sort of fidgety. You’re so – adult? Forgiving and empathetic and rooted in realism but equally open to emotions and in tune with them, and warm in ways Caroline wasn’t.
Even when you started showing and got sassy, bitchy, hormonal – it was easy for the fussing to end well. Usually with him just taking it and moving on, keeping himself busy until you slowly come around to hug him from behind and snuggle him until he rubs your feet. ‘Bare minimum’, he says – and maybe it is, but his dad never gave Caroline the bare minimum, so it’s always surprising when he does something that he never witnessed anyone else doing when he was growing up. Massaging your tits, kissing you all fuckin’ over, rubbing shea butter on your tummy to help with stretch marks, calling a private chef over to fix your cravings, having a personal shopper get you whatever the fuck you want, whenever the fuck you want it, without him having to leave you all alone in the house. Especially when you start to get bigger.
A few months in and the morning sickness has faded just enough to get into the shit you like. Waking up before him, brushing your teeth, taking another quick shower, then crawling back in bed, under the covers to wake him up with his balls in your mouth. Calling it your ‘morning duties’ or ‘morning worship’, thanking him for knocking you up. Sometimes intentionally denying your pussy, denying you entirely – not letting you cum – and only fucking your ass, especially when you’re begging for it. Lubing himself up by sticking his dick between your pussy lips and then popping the tip in your asshole instead. “Hey. Don’t fuckin’ cry, you know the agreement. Anal only until your water breaks, remember?” There may be no real agreement, but fuck, being denied for days – sometimes weeks on end, fucking kills you.
Then comes the era you’re in now: total depraved bitch, a suped-up version of before. You’re in that headspace where everything feels erogenous, even when you don’t cum – though avoiding cumming isn’t an easy feat, these days. Crying while cumming, and cumming from fucking anything, and more than happy even when denied, intentionally or not; ready to do whatever. Not that you don’t have your bad days, but fuck, heavily pregnant like this, he’s surprised you don’t have more ‘bad days’. You’re like his own personal succubus ball-drainer.
Tonight, it’s late in the evening. He’s coming home from really nothing at all – running errands by himself for the first time in a long time, shopping a couple months in advance for some additional push presents, adding to the pile of expensive shit he’s already purchased. He’s dressed how you like, the fucking too-tight button-up and slacks, belt, nice shoes, jacket tossed onto the coat rack by the door as he heads upstairs with a quick, half-ironic, “Honey, I’m home! It’s hammer-time. Down, girl!"
You’re fucking huge. Is that too vulgar to say? Your belly is swollen and you’re sensitive as fuck, hormones already insane, and to Roman, you’re a fertility goddess. He never ‘got it’ when guys would say their wives got hotter when pregnant, but fuck, he gets it now. Even just wearing oversized tees (which are still top-tier spank bank material to him), he seriously thinks it’s just – museum-worthy beauty at his fingertips, in his home. Tonight, after taking a nice shower and having a relaxing day at home, all alone, snacking and bingeing on old movies you’ve seen countless times and shitty TV, you’re still wearing the slightly-sheer white maternity nightdress that has quickly become a mini in the recent month, but nonetheless has remained in your regular rotation because of just how comfy it is, and how good it makes you feel.
“One preganantus maximus, waking up from a nap. What’d you do while big papa was off all day? Bake bread like a good little wife? Watch a movie, filmbro?” he says as he strolls through the door to their bedroom. It smells sweet from your long bath before dinner, like vanilla and some candle he sees burning across the room – pumpkin? He’s used to the little heaven you make here: good smells, beautiful wife, soft bed with plenty of blankets. He leans over in front of you and dramatically kisses the jewel on your wedding ring, how he so often does, then trails up your arm as you speak.
“I watched some shit, old movies. Filmbro-ing it up in here. What about you, why did big papa leave big mama today?”
It’s freakishly domestic and he weirdly loves it. It gets his dick a little twitchy, referring to one another with half-joking, silly terms like ‘big papa’ and ‘big mama’. Stupid? Yes. Insanely sexy to him? Also yes.
“That issss…none of big mama’s business. Trust me, you’ll like it. It’s something nice and thoughtful – oh wait, you don’t like nice and thoughtful. Shit, man – my bad,” he sarcastically winces as he pulls away, like he fucked up. “Are you just gonna sit there, looking like a fuckin’ Renaissance painting? Oorrr…you gonna get down here and, like, do something?”
“Are you asking me to blow you so we can fuck, or just blow you?”
“Uhhh, opting for the former, but accepting the latter,” he quips with a grin. The banter is good. Chatting is fun, keeps it light when his brain is turning mushy at how you look right now: tits big, tummy big, pussy probably already wet from his previous scruffy, tickling kisses on the inside of your arm.
“Okayyyyughh,” you jokingly groan but slowly – with his helping hand and a pillow he quickly grabs from the bottom of the bed for your knees – settle down, facing his dick.
He unbuckles, a well-practiced movement he can do with one hand by now (one of the hilariously few impressive things he can do without fail in one, swift movement). Tugging his briefs down (navy blue, Calvin Klein), his dick is barely chubbed. Roman slaps his jelly-like dick against your face, enjoying the feeling of your soft cheek leaning into it.
“Whatcha want? Did you not wanna – y’know?” you ask, making sure he still wants a blowjob to get hard – and that he isn’t going to spend the whole night with twinkling eyes, looking down at you with his cock of your cheek, rubbing it in.
“Uh-durrh, what do you think I want? I want you to stop being so fucking hot for five seconds so I can think straight. You’re waddling around like some kinda pregnant Aphrodite, and I’m just supposed to not – stare at you, once in a while? I think I have the right to stare at my pregnant wife, thanks,” he’s huffy and defensive as he speaks, like he got caught. Caught showing too much simp-y shit. “There, since you want this dick so badly.”
You gag when his dick gets shoved in your mouth, all the way in his hands in your hair, holding you in place as you sputter around it. The dick grows in your throat as he slowly fucks it in, not pulling out hardly at all. Fuck, you can’t help but moan a little. His balls are hot and heavy against your chin, and when you reach up from his thighs to grab them in your palms, you can feel his dick jump in the back of your throat. He’s fully hard in what feels like under three minutes.
He’s making pitiful whimpering and whining noises the whole time, like a puppy at the vet. His hands still grab at your hair gently, forcing your nose to his pubes at the base of his cock, moving your head around so he can feel your throat around the tip. “Atta giiiirl,” he coos, the words dripping with condescension, “Ho-ly shit, I wish you could see your fuckin’ face. Open wider for Daddy, come on,” he coaxes, patting your cheek with his palm. “Wanna fuck your throat while you rub your belly, hurry up. Show me how grateful you are for this dick.”
When you open your mouth even the smallest amount, he starts fucking your face. God, your gagging noises only make him throb harder, leaking pre onto your tongue with every pass. Roman doesn’t have those stereotypically sexy moans that are deep and gravelly, he’s high and squeaky and stutters them out at the same pace as his hips fucking your throat raw in soft sounds of ‘ah-ah-ah fuck, yeah, yes’. He breaks the scene for only a moment to ask a quick, “You good?” When you nod and moan around his dick, he fucks even harder, using your face like a fleshlight.
Seeing you start to rub your belly makes his balls tingle and he knows he’s gotta slow it down, and soon. You have no panties on under your dress – hardly wear them anymore – and just from peeking down there, he’s already about to fuckin’ drool. He pulls out and slaps the tip against your lip, letting out a broken noise and nearly crumbling when you kiss it so sweetly. Even after moving it to rest against your cheek again, feeling you lean into it and rub against it like a cat in heat is just too much. You’re too much for his poor dick.
“Think – yeah, I’m hard enough now. Might be a minute-man, but. Hard, definitely hard.”
You cough and sputter, but he helps lift you to sit back on the bed and pushes your hair back, out of your face, patting your arm. “Hey – hey, come on trooper. You alright? Said you were okay.”
“I am, just – lemme adjust,” you were fine, still are. You just needed to clear your throat a little, catch your breath. It caught up to you, how rough you were taking it just then. “Kiss-kiss?”
"'Course you can have kisses — all the kisses," he leans in and kisses you. How sweet, you’re sweet asking for kisses in that silly, dumbed-down way, even while his dick’s still covered in your spit, drool dripping down his balls. “Still want dick?”
“Mhm,” you confirm, nudging his nose with your own, then letting him nuzzle your cheekbone.
“M’kay, spread ‘em,” he says, leaning you back on the bed and watching you spread your legs wide, unashamed. He’s seen it all hundreds of times before. “Or – maybe – this way? That okay with you?” he positions you facing the pillow, something he rarely allows, much less enjoys. You wonder what he has planned but allow it.
“Just don’t wanna see my face tonight?” you joke, still kind of inquisitive.
“No, don’t even joke about that shit. I just wanna mix it up. Come on, connect the dots,” he jokes, slapping your ass lightly just to watch it jiggle, hearing you whimper into the pillow. “Wow. Not-so-virgin Mary with her legs spread. Must’ve been a saint in my past life,” he breathes out, still a little in awe at the sight of you wiggling your hips, pussy soaked.
“Don’t be a dick when you’re about to put your dick in me,” you gripe, assuming he’s being sarcastic.
“Then don’t be so – I dunno – angelic?” That shuts you up real quick. He can be so romantic when he wants, and it stops you in your tracks every time. His cock bobs eagerly as he tries to line himself up, missing completely on the first thrust and sliding down too far against your clit.
"Shit — hold on — fucking GPS recalculating," he mumbles, reaching down to guide himself. On the second attempt, he misses again, poking against the back of your thigh. "Your ass is too fat now, can't find my way around this massive geography,” he jokes – finally being the asshole he is, breaking out of his amazement for a split second to make a silly joke.
He finally manages to push inside your pussy, groaning as he starts thrusting immediately, uneven and jerky, like a dog humping a fertile bitch with his dick only halfway in. "Shit, you’re in a milking mood today. Wanna get it over with, or do you just love getting railed while you’re face-down in the pillow?” You make a muffled noise into the pillow that sounds vaguely affirmative and he takes it as encouragement, his hips snapping forward quickly as he leans over your back.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. Fucking love it," he pants, one hand reaching around to palm your swollen belly. "God, you take dick like it's your job. Which it basically is, now, isn’t it? Breastfeeding and dick-pleasing.” His dick slips out from the position changing a little – or maybe from how your hips are moving back against him. Either way, he’s quick to fumble with his dick, trying to get back inside as soon as possible. “Would you fuckin’ — stay still? Fucking — hurry, now, your ass keeps moving. Daddy needs somewhere warm to park this.”
His cocktip catches on a hole and you let out a squeak. It’s not the same hole, fuck, it’s your ass.
“W-wrong hole, Jesus–,” you’re cut off as he presses forward, popping the head into the tight, unprepped ring. “Fuck, Roro – Daddy, out!” You can only gasp and clutch the sheets.
“Uhn-uh, too late. I mean, ‘wrong hole’, but – this is kinda perfect? Kinda missed this hole. Haven’t used it in like, a week, right? Don’t fuckin’ mind if I do."
He takes it slower, this time, rocking back and forth as he leans back over you, one hand on your tummy and one now groping your tit as he mouths at your neck through your near-sheer nightgown. He’s huffing, hips stuttering and accidentally bucking too hard at times, redirecting your attention by squeezing your tit harder and shushing you sweetly.
You sob into the pillow, hips circling pitifully, pussy being denied deliciously as it drips down his ballsack, soaking it as it’s battered, his ball hair tickling your clit and puffy pussy lips feeling his sack rise as it tightens and drop as it loosens; an addicting feeling, to say the least.You’re fucking desperately horny, and desperate to please him, to continue this cycle of use, to be full and used and denied endlessly. A delightfully obedient, happy-to-serve bitch, overjoyed to be made a mama and wife.
"Kinda wanna just keep using this hole forever. Never give you another baby," he threatens with a grin, taunting you just to hear you whine into the pillow. "Keep you as my personal anal slut instead of a mama. Downgrade time!"
“Daddy, fuck Daddy,” you repeat it endlessly, can’t seem to stop. You’re dumbified, kind of. Can’t seem to get over what’s happening, how good it feels to have his dick in your ass as he neglects your pussy.
"Maybe I'll — fuck — invite Tom over, let him have a go at this hole while I watch. Let him know how a real mama’s supposed to feel? How real mamas loooooove anal." Roman’s balls are fuckin’ tingling at the thought, too close to cumming to keep saying this stuff. Hearing you moan and squeal is the last straw, he knows he won’t last long if you keep sounding like that. "Gonna blow, gonna fucking fill this hole up," he gasps, clinging to you, huffing hot breaths onto your neck from behind, still squeezing your tit. “Maybe that’ll get you to quit your bitching. Right, hon?"
When he cums, his hips jerk with every spurt from his cocktip, trying to empty his balls completely through shuddering moans and whines of your name and ‘fuck’, coming down saying a shockingly soft, still slightly out-of-body “Love you, love you, fuuuuhuuck.” Then, he huffs out an exhausted chuckle, pulling out nice and slow to watch his cum leak from your red, aching hole, slapping his tip on it and watching it pucker up for a kiss. He flops onto his back beside you on the bed, his softening cock lying limp, wet and glistening. You didn’t cum. Fun for tonight, but you’re sure to be pissed by tomorrow. He’ll make sure to worship your pussy, eat your ass out a little, too – he’ll make it up to you, more than.
"Maybe next time?”
“Uh-huh, next time,” you say, still dripping from both holes, leaning down and taking his dick in your mouth, turning to straddle his face so he can watch your holes leak as you suckle the rapidly softening dick, kissing down to his ballsack and even pressing a soft, shy kiss on his taint. You take your time before taking his dick back in your mouth and sucking the remnants of his load off. He’s become used to it, knows you’re still turned on and knows he should treat you as such. Turned the fuck on and just horny enough to do whatever he wants without a single complaint.
"Clean him up, there we go. Great customer service. Really devoted to the product," his eyes fixate on your dripping holes, watching his cum slide out of your ass down to your pussy. Fuck, he already knows that amazed look on his face is back, but seriously – he’s in heaven. Soulmate sucking his dick, pregnant with his baby, in a beautiful, soft maternity nightgown, in your bed after he shopped all day for push presents and you just relaxed. And you always seem to like taking his dick? He has nothing left on his wishlist.
"Keep this up and maybe I'll consider it. Maybe tomorrow. Or next week. Next month?” Your whimper as he shoves your nose against his balls is the best response imaginable. “Alright, get on, bitch. Squeaky-clean. Go fuckin’ — hump the chair or something. Kiss-kiss?”
You turn around, waddling to straddle his lap rather than his face, his hands supporting you and ensuring that you won’t fall. The kiss was supposed to be sweet, but Roman doesn’t let you move away – keeps you there and makes out with you for a moment, wanting to feel you close to him. “You look like a fucking mess. Might wanna clean up before someone sees you looking like you just got railed in a truck stop bathroom. But — hey," his tone suddenly shifts from mocking to something sweeter, serious. "Maybe tomorrow. After the dinner thing. We can...y'know. Do it right."
"Really?" your pussy throbs at the idea of his dick blowing in your womb. You lean down to kiss his cheek, knowing he wants it — he’s always unsure of whether to continue the whole attitude still, trying to stay all bitchy and dominant despite always wanting the soft shit nowadays, Papa Roro. His face does that thing where he tries to hide a genuine smile behind a scowl, failing miserably as his eyes crinkle at the corners. “You been taking your pills?”
"No. Yeah, maybe, sort of, probably," he mumbles about those freaky pills that supposedly make his load bigger, jokingly wiping your kiss on his cheek away dramatically. "Yes, I've been choking down those horse pills. Fucking hate them. Make my piss smell weird."
It's still fucking addictive to have someone want his load this badly. Especially you. Fucking goddess divine, like he’s reached up into the heavens and chose the perfect angel. The Townley Venus knocked up by a mere mortal. A metaphorical Roman brute. His hands slide down to cup your ass as you stand on your knees, him sitting up against the pillows on the headrest, his hands all grabby as he pulls you against him, hugging your tummy and practically kneeling before you.
"Okayyyy, fine, tomorrow. Dick-in-pussy, no slip-ups, expect a huge load for your gluttonous pussy," he sighs dramatically, as if making some great sacrifice rather than giving you exactly what you both want. "But I expect the full treatment. Worship these nuts like they're making gold."
“Will-do, Daddy-o,” you joke, kissing the top of his head as he continues hugging your tummy, face in your chest and hands on your asscheeks.
