#dom!ghost

The words ‘Baby’, ‘Pregnant’, and even ‘Bump’ got a sleeper agent response out of him. Whatever he was doing would be dropped, and he’d turn to baby-making mode.

Proof?

You had just gotten out of the shower and foolishly talked about how one of your friends made ‘baby’ pretzels.

And now, you were on his lap, letting out a needy whine as he thrust into your slippery warmth. 

Your walls were always ready and eager to take him.

Your hips rolled, letting him feel every slick and puffy ridge of your cunt, as if he wasn't already rock solid inside of you.

Those lazy, urgent fucks were your favorite.

He pulled your shirt off, kissing your neck his hand roaming around your body, his palm slid up covering your stomach.

“Can’t wait until you're full and round, and these—”

His palms gently cupped, taking his time tasting your tits.

“—are plump and throbbing,” he muttered, his cock twitching inside of you. He was getting riled up by his own imagination.

“God, you’ll be so fucking gorgeous,” he panted against your skin, rutting into you.

A frown formed on your brows, and a soft chuckle passed your lips, “Do you actually want a baby or do you just want to knock me up?”

“Both,” he rasped, hips moving upwards to meet yours. “I want to fuck you pregnant too,” he admitted.

A weird sound came out of your throat, a mix of moan and laughter, your head falling on his shoulder.

Used to your husband developing kinks around any of your predicaments, so you immediately played into it.

“I’ll be stuffed full with your seed?”

“Yes…,” he breathed out, licking and biting your skin.

You picked up the speed, using the muscle of his thighs as leverage.

“I’ll struggle to walk...” You trailed. He nodded, his breath ragged. You mewled, feeling your own pleasure building in your stomach, “Rely on you…needing you to play with my cunt cause I can’t reach?”

“Fuck yes…” he managed, as you bounced on him, his finger found your clit, your head fell back chasing your release, your nails digging into his thighs. 

“Si—” you sucked a breath, as you trembled in your release.

He tightened his grip on you, pushing up with a deep cervix-bruising thrust, and he spilled inside of you.

He kissed your lips and, without wasting a second, flipped you over, legs up against the bed frame, sliding a pillow under your lower back.

Yeah, it wasn’t a joke to him. Simon was on a mission, and he would get the job done.

You lay there, gazing at your husband, who was sitting, back straight against the headboard, arm crossed, as if in a serious operation of guarding your legs where they were held up.

A few snickering sounds escaped you.

“You’re laughing again?” he said, his lips curling faintly. The way he looked at you was the pure definition of heart eyes.

“Sorry, honey,” you said through stifled laughter, “But you realise you get kinks from my predicaments, right?”

“Do I?” he asked, tilting his head. You nodded.

“Just like when I broke my wrist and asked you to help paint my toes…you asked to fuck my feet.”

“You have pretty feet,” he shrugged. You bit your lip, stopping another goofy laugh from slipping. 

You’d lie if you said your husband wanting to fuck you in any state possible wasn’t one of the hottest things about him, but how far did it go?

“Si?” you called, and a deep hum drummed his chest in response.

“Is there a state you wouldn’t want to fuck me in?” you asked, and his lips twitched.

“Dead, I’d leave you some dignity,” he replied a bit too fast, and the most baffling part is that you were not 100% sure he was joking.

“You’re so fucking annoying.” You giggled and tried to roll out of the position, but he held both legs up in his hand like he was holding a freshly caught fish.

“Hold position. Three minutes left,” he stated with a glare that clearly meant 'lay back down and let my cum take.'

Yeah, he would get that cute waddling wife.

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Deep in your frustration, you were unaware of the way he was watching the sweat drop decorating your skin. Drinking the sight of your face, your parted lips, studying the way your tongue ran across them. 

Those were little glimpses he would get when you were dazed, run down by him and lost in your thoughts.

He blinked to stare back at the ceiling when you abruptly rolled over, pressing on your palms, pushing yourself up to sit on your legs.

“Get up,” you called, still breathless.

After a short glance, he replied “Let’s take a break.”

You frowned, shaking your head.

“Don’t be a bitch, c’mon, one more round,” you tapped his thigh, urging him and he scoffed.

Never had anyone talked to him the way you do. 

Overtaking you was a breeze, but he had tried to match your strength.

Maybe he shouldn’t have. 

Though he was a beginner in jiu-jitsu, he did wrestle before. They first paired him with you, because you had the best techniques, and a patient student always ready for a challenge.

However, with his experience, quick learning and size, you never stood a chance.

“C’mon, I’ll get you this time.” You said lowering yourself on his stomach, holding your fist to him. 

He sighed, your fists colliding.

You smiled, satisfied, “don’t make it easy,” 

“I never do.” 

His hips pushed upwards, jerking you forward, arms already hooked on your elbow pulling down, a firm press on your hips flipping you over.

You blinked, your back already flat on the mat with him between your legs.

A groan rumbled in your chest, it was your fault for going for a low mount. 

Your legs hooked around his waist and shoulder, going for a triangle but he held himself upwards pushing your thigh preventing you from breaking his posture.

Your tired legs weren’t squeezing as hard as before, making his manoeuvring easy, and keeping his arms out of reach. 

His thigh found its way between your legs pressing down rubbing against your center  surprising you with a brief wave of pleasure. You bit a soft whimper, praying that he didn’t notice.

The sensation had awakened a burning needy feeling between your legs.  A culmination of months of frustration, without much thought your leg grip tightened chasing that feeling.  

Not finding an escape from you, he returned to his position managing to free his shoulder, then pressing his lips tight when he felt legs squeezing down, now around his waist. 

He leaned forward, his warm body pressed against yours, his hips twisted and pushed forward again. 

A moan escaped you. 

Your only relief was that he seemed too busy trying to untangle from your legs to notice. 

His arm sliding behind you, the fabric of his shorts barely hiding the size of him, was pressing and rubbing against your crotch creating delicious friction. 

Your eyes shut briefly, biting your lip, relishing on a feeling you haven’t felt in months. 

This was so fucking wrong.

You were disgusting, you should tap out and get away, yet you couldn’t, just a little more—

He pressed your thighs apart, pressing down again now more purposefully. 

A needy moan slipped your lips.

Your eyes snapped open, and he was already gazing at you, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. 

His shirt sticking to his body, blond hair now brown with sweat and sticking to his forehead.

More importantly, his eyes were laser focused on your face, as if deciphering a new language. 

Fuck.

“I…uh…you…I’m sorry,” you stammered, legs coming loose from around him, ready to pull away. 

You were stopped by another hard grind. A puff of air left your lungs, your walls clenching instinctively, wanting, needing to be filled, soaking your panties with anticipation.

His hands fell to your hips, with a firm hold. His hips moved more aggressively, it was almost painful the way his hard-on rubbed against you, each time sending delicious tingles down your stomach.

No words were needed, your nails dug onto his biceps, pulling him closer, his lips finally meeting yours. Not risking him changing his mind. 

What you didn’t know was that your practice partner was also pent up. 

Rolling with you was a battle not in the sports sense. 

No. 

You were a moaner, whether you realised it or not.

He lost count of the number of times he had you humming, panting, whimpering in his ear.

How many times did he have to end the late sessions early to jerk off in the shower, wrapping his fist tight around himself, imagining how his cock would feel stuffed in your mouth. Punishment for teasing him the whole session. 

When he first heard that whimper, his cock twitched, and he needed to get away before you could noticed the tightness growing in his pants.

But then, he heard it, a real moan. 

He was sure. That was from pleasure. He heard you enough times to know.

That sound was the one he painted in his mind many times.  

When rolling. When your cunt was right in his face. 

The sound he was sure you’d make when you were one short rip away from being tasted. 

One thin fabric away from satiating his hunger.

He was disgusting, that’s what he thought.

But here you were now. Mouth busy on his, eyes tightly shut, your hips desperately joining his. 

Poor thing was just as desperate. 

He slid his palm under your shirt, removing it, he wanted to taste you. More of you. 

His lips left yours and kissed down your neck all the way to your chest, hands full of your tits, he licked up the curve of your breast, his tongue flattened over one nipple while thumb brushing over the other. 

You arch your back, biting your lip but head creeped on your neck. You were sticky and sweaty, it must be gross for him.

He on the other had was busy. His mouth now just below your tit, kissing, sucking your skin and licking your sweat on the way down, eager for his main course. 

You felt his breath on your stomach and quickly reached down, stopping his face from moving further, your eyes wide with worry.

His head tilted, short panic in his eyes, scared that you would want to stop. 

“Wait…wait, we’ve been…I’m sweating, it’s okay, if you don’t…l-let me wash up first—” 

He refrained from sighing in relief. That’s what it was?

His leg hooked under yours flipping you over your face down the wet mat, his arm hooked under you, pushing your hips up. 

“Doll, I’m a grown man,” he replied, kissing your lower back, you clearly feeling it enough to think of such nonsense. 

He’d fix that.

He gripped the waistband of your leggings and panties, pulling off your ass, nails escaping your bare skin in a rush.

The cold air made you clench. His palm sliding up the back of your thigh, spreading you, leaving your pussy glistening for him to see. 

You were embarrassed? There was no need to be with such a beautiful cunt. 

You gasped when you felt his mouth on you, his tongue dragged between your folds

“Fucking hell,” He groaned against you, gripping firmly on your thighs. You tasted velvety against his tongue. 

His tongue lapped and lips suck like he was starving. 

He moaned again sending another vibration though you core, leaving your thighs shaking.

His hips jerked forward against nothing, he could come only from this. His mind couldn’t even begin to replicate what he was tasting.

And your breathless, little choked moans…Fuck—to think all this time you could’ve been like this for him. If only he wasn’t such a…bitch. He chuckled remembering your previous comment. He buried his face deeper savouring you.

Your fingers tug on his hair, not to pull him closer. You tried to twist away, overwhelmed, but his grip tightened, digits digging into your skin.

 His tongue fucking into you, just to hear that little whimper tickling your throat.

“W-wait if you—fuck” 

You could hear him slurping, licking. Trying to make a full sentence was impossible, not when your walls were begging and crying for him.

“P-please…I need,” 

He knew what you wanted. But right now, all you needed was to unravel on his mouth.

you cursed once again, losing your train of thought, breathing out gibberish, as you coated his tongue with your cum.

He hummed, swallowing it all, then reluctantly pulled away from his new favourite meal, his chin still wet with your juices. 

You trembled as his fingers rubbed against your puffy clit, all the way to your entrance before plunging in, you whined wanting more, you glanced back, your brows furrowed.

“Tight grip, you got there,” he smirked, pressing another finger in, you closed your eyes, mouth falling open, “I know what you want,” he kissed the round of your ass.

He pulled back his fingers, wrapping them around his cock, wet with precum, he rubbed the tip along your folds coating it with the wetness of your needy cunt. 

He pushed in grazing your awaiting walls, you mewled into the mat. 

Right, that's what it felt like, that tingling feeling in your belly, the undeniable pleasure of being stuffed good.

“Jesus,” he exhaled through his nose, almost angry at how good you felt. His cock continued to stretch you out, every inch more mouth-watering than the first. “That cunt was made for my cock.” He pulled away and slammed back inside, your nails digging into the mat.

All you could do was let out a helpless cry.

Your knees slipped with the sweat on the soft flooring, but his hold tightened around your thigh, keeping your ass up.

“You wanted this, yeah? This is what you fuckin’ needed?” He said kissing the nape of your neck, cupping your tit, his finger pinching away, thrusting into you. “Hmm? I’m talking to you now love,” 

“Yes…I…needed…”

“So take it. Every inch, like a good little doll, yeah?” 

You gathered your strength arching further, presenting yourself better to him, he reached so deep it echoed and sent ripples all through your body.

“You want to come all over my cock, don’t you doll?”

“Yes, yes,” was all you managed to say. 

“Good dollie,” he teased, “well, all you have to do is ask,” he mumbled on your skin.

“Please, please I wanna—fuck I want to cum…I just want…please” you begged, his palms regained their position on your hip, a tight bruising hold. 

Fucking you like a dog, balls slapping against your clit, sending sparks of pleasure, your eyes rolled back drool dripping down your chin.

The mix of your slick and his precum, dripping from your thigh. Your eyes glazed over the wall mirrors, what a sight. 

The side of your face was mushed against the tatami, as his dick went in and out with deep hard thrusts. Moulding his shape into you.

Your eyes switched to his face, the hem of his shirt caught between his teeth, a proud smirk adorning his lip.

Gorgeous.

You pressed your forehead to the flooring, smaller hand covering his on your hip, finger intertwining.

You pressed your eyes tight shut, walls tightened around him, chasing that fluttering sensation, your toes curling, his cock twitching, his free hand rubbing your clit.

Your hands were too weak to stop him. Your hips bucked, legs trembling, but you had no escape from his grip. 

“You know my name,” he hummed.

“Simon—“ he his fingers pinched over your overstimulating bud. 

This was too much.

You let out what he could only describe as the most adorable squeak, your body entering an almost embarrassing state of convulsion. 

He grunted as your walls spasmed around him. Not a word came out of you it felt like you were cumming through your very soul.

Your insides gripping, not ready to let go of such a good cock.

Good thing he wasn’t done. He pulled you back getting a better hold of your almost limp body, pressing your back against his chest guiding your chin so his lips could join yours once more, making you taste yourself.

His arms locked around your waist, breath was ragged against your lips.

You clenched down again, throbbing, desperate. He broke the kiss, his voice crack decorating your name as it passed his lips.

“Fuck,” his forhead falling on your shoulder as he rutted into you, chest heaving as he held you tight, his cock pulsing. 

Pressed deep, his tip kissing your cervix, emptied his balls inside of you. You were too busy with the other climax coursing through you to protest.

For the first time today you rendered him breathless, though you weren’t much better, that was a win in your book.

He didn’t pull out, you felt light kisses on your shoulder, his rough palm caressing your body, reluctant to let go. 

If you thought he would let that be a one time thing, you were dead wrong. 

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