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Whiplash hunting guide!ghost x f!reader

Simon's retirement in remote Alaska has been boring, just as he intended. But as a storm rolls in on the horizon, he's out in the wilderness doing his rounds collecting the traps he's set when he stumbles upon a small plane crash. In the wreckage he finds you, sporting a bad head injury but still breathing. So he takes you back to his cabin and nurses you back to health, only he never intends to let you go.

Content/Warnings: dead dove do not eat!!!, smut, non/dubcon, forced imprisonment, multiple povs, stockholm syndrome, reader has a TBI and Simon takes full advantage of his situation, unprotected pinv, body betrayal, forced orgasm, unwanted creampie, face fucking, knife play, mention of gun play, free use adjacent, anal sex, very brief mentions of vomit, mentions of hunting/killing animals for food/fur, Simon is a meanie who's convinced himself he's doing the right thing for you

notes - this is one interpretation of a situation I couldn't stop thinking about. if you like the idea of being stuck in a cabin with big sexy hunting guide!ghost but don't want to read a noncon story im almost done with a different, fluffier version where reader is at the cabin for research purposes and is only trapped because of a storm!! when that story is done I'll post a link for it here, but if you want to be tagged when it's posted let me know in the replies or my ask box! :)

Word Count: 12.4k

Simon hadn't had much exciting happen in a few years. Most of his days bled together in a monotonous slideshow of hunting, eating, and sleeping. Once every few months he made the 6 hour drive into the nearest town to sell pelts and furs, and pick up additional supplies he needed to replenish. He had stopped giving hunting tours years ago. Retirement was supposed to be relaxing, not making him fight the urge to turn his gun on some trigger happy Wall Street dickhead looking to get his rocks off by killing an innocent animal.

So he was mostly alone now. And for the most part he was convinced that was how he wanted it. Porn was enough to scratch that itch he felt every now and again, and even when it wasn't enough he could always drive into the closest town and meet a bird at the shitty excuse for a pub they had. That was rare, but he liked having the option.

Today presented a challenge he'd hoped to avoid for the rest of the season. A nasty squall was on the horizon, so that meant Simon was out on his snowmobile with his rifle on his back as he rushed to bring in all the traps he had set out. He was a heartless bastard, but he refused to let some poor fox get caught in a trap and die slowly under the snowfall. As he collected the last trap and tossed it into the sled he was towing, the air changed around him, Mother Nature warning him to get home or she would dole out a harsh punishment. Opting to take a quicker route home, he was forced to slow down as his eyes fell upon a huge mass of twisted metal nestled between the trees.

He'd only ever found two plane crashes while living out this far, and both times no one on scene was alive. Death was nothing new to Simon, and usually reporting a big crash like this meant some kind of reward from someones family who was on board. Money in exchange for simple information was the best kind he came across these days. Slowing his old Yamaha, he came to a stop a few feet from the edge of the wreckage. The snowfall wasn't deep enough to warrant snowshoes, so he swung a heavy leg over and slugged his way over to the wreck.

The crash was new enough that no snow had gathered on top, but old enough that any of the burnt up metal and plastic were still hot. There was no smoke billowing from the mangled engine, no fires waiting to be snuffed out by the incoming storm. It was a small craft, and from what he could see of the interior it was expensive enough for him to assume it was a private charter. No amount of money could buy you safety from being on the receiving end of one serious updraft, though. Simon knew the drill, look for identifying numbers on the tail and take a headcount.

He jotted down what was left of the numbers on the tail before making his way around to the nose of the plane, confirming both the pilot and co-pilot were both deceased. While on his way around the other side, there was a gap in the hull where one piece of the metal shell was hanging on by a few wires. Grunting as he pulled it away, he was surprised to find only three people in the body of the plane. One man was crushed between the cockpit door and his own seat, definitely dead. What was left of a stewardess was plastered haphazardly against the windows, also definitely dead.

There was a woman still buckled in her seat, no debris pinning her down. She was slumped forward, blood making a sticky mess of her hair as Simon hunched over her to assess whether she was breathing or not. One gloved hand extended to grip her hair and move her head back, to reveal an earth-shatteringly beautiful face, however roughed up she was. Forehead cut open, nose bleeding, and makeup smeared; Simon tutted to himself. What a shame, such a beautiful face wasted in a crash like this. Destined to wither away out here while rescuers decided whether to come and recover the bodies.

Just as he was about to let her head fall back into it's slump, a ragged groan escaped her bloody lips. Taken aback, Simon almost let go of his grip on her head.

Surely that was a death rattle. No one survives crashes like this.

Removing the glove on his free hand with his teeth, he pressed two bare fingers to her pulse point and was shellshocked to find a weak pulse there. He gently let her head down and thought about his next steps. Pondering whether or not there was any point in extracting her, for her to simply die en route or even worse die at his house.

One more look at your pretty face sealed your fate.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The last thing you remember was screaming at your father to please sit back down as the alarms blared in your ears. He had insisted on taking his new private jet out for a test flight, and now you were sure this was the last flight you'd ever take. One minute you had been laughing with him and the stewardess, the next it felt like some cosmic being had landed a nasty uppercut to the center of the plane, and everyone started to panic. After another big boom, everything went black.

When you first started to wake, you were sure that it had been a bad dream. The first sensation you felt was an impossible softness under your fingers, so you assumed you were still cuddled up in your bed with a big blanket to keep you warm. But as soon as you moved to stretch you muscles, you were hit with a wall of pain the likes of which you had never experienced in your life. Everything ached. You let out a small whine as you tried to move, only to be restricted back into place.

"Not too much moving, darling." a voice said, it sounded far away, but the rumble you felt told you it was much closer than that. The thick, British accent fogging your brain as you cracked your eyes open. Squinting, you braced for a harsh bright light, until you realized the room you were in was dark, lit only by a small warm light somewhere to your left. Once your vision adjusted, you nearly seized again at the sight of who was speaking to you.

He was massive. That was your first observation. A hulking mass of a man with two big hands planted firmly around your biceps to keep you in place. Though this meant he was leaning over you in the slightest, his face was covered by a thick black balaclava with a faded skull printed on the front. You eyed widened when they met his, dark and stormy as they pinned you to the bed below. They did soften once you started to shake in his grip, and he held one hand up to you as if to tell you to calm down.

"Here. S'prolly a bit scary." he said, gripping the fabric on the top of his head and pulling the mask off. The face underneath was no more comforting. Crooked nose, scars running every which way, and a short blonde buzzcut that he clearly did himself because you already could see patches he missed.

"Better?" he grinned, all teeth as you stayed perfectly still under him. He cocked an eyebrow at you, clearly expecting a response, but your mouth refused to open. He shrugged, letting go of your arm and moving the blanket that covered you.

"Yer a lucky bird." he mused, poking and prodding you as if you were a piece of tenderloin and not a conscious human being laying at his mercy. "Nothin' even broken on ya."

His words brought forth a slew of bile churning memories, the sight of your father's dead face burned into your retinas as you gasped in a huge breath of air. Going against this stranger's wishes, you sat up despite the throb in your head, and grabbed onto his arm.

"Bathroom." you said, voice so hoarse it sounded foreign even to your ears. He nodded, and instead of showing you where to go, he simply plucked you from the bed and carried you out into a hallway. Once you had left the confines of that room, everything was much brighter and it sent your headache into overdrive. Once he plopped you on the floor of the bathroom you collapsed and dry heaved into the toilet. After a few attempts and nothing coming up, you started to sob. A heavy hand came and landed on your back as the man tired to comfort you, which was clearly not his forte.

"S'alright, love." he said, and you swore you could hear a grin in his voice as if he was enjoying watching you cry, "S'all over now. Come on and get some rest."

You put up no resistance as he carried you back into the dark bedroom, tucking you back into the warmth of the fur blankets he had laid around you. You took a shaky breath as he stared down at you. You had so many questions rattling around in your skull, it was hard to land on one in particular. Breathing hitching, you shook your head, as if that would clear up all the fog in your head.

"Found ya in that crash." he says gruffly, clearly seeing the confusion eating you alive, "Yer the only one who survived."

He said it so matter of factly, like it hadn't been your father who died in front of you. Your eyes started to well up as he continued, "Brought ya here. Been about a few days since then."

"Where's here?" you croaked.

"Middle o' nowhere, birdie." he chuckled, patting your legs as he got up to leave the room. "The name's Simon. Dinner's in 10."

Simon. That's all you got.

Once he was gone, you waited a moment before moving the blanket off of you to inspect your body yourself. He was right, you were lucky. Moving your fingers and toes, testing out your joints, nothing hurt more than a dull ache from the impact. The most of your pain was in your head and neck, that migraine still pounding behind your skull.

Something that you did notice, was that you were...clean. You also weren't wearing your own clothes. The sweatshirt and shorts were clearly his, the massive garments hanging loose off your frame. A sour feeling formed in the pit of your stomach as you realized he took your clothes off to bathe you. You shifted your hips and pursed your lips as you didn't feel any soreness between your legs, so hopefully he kept his hands to himself.

After a moment you stood up, testing your own strength as you caught your balance. Steeling yourself, you padded slowly over to the door. Walking out into the hallway, Simon had closed the blinds along all the windows, darkening the entire house. You hoped that it was to ease the light on your eyes, and not to hide the outside from you (or you from the outside). Following your nose, you found your way to the kitchen as the smell of whatever Simon was cooking as making your insides ache. He noticed you as soon as you walked around the corner.

"Hope yer not a vegetarian or nothin'." he said cheerfully. You stopped short, staring at him as he moved some food around in the pan in front of him.

"Did you bathe me?" you asked, a look of confusion cropping up briefly on his face before he answered.

"Well yeah, y'were covered in blood 'n soot, sweetheart."

Ignoring the pet name you pushed on, "So you took my clothes off?"

"Can't wash ya if yer clothed." he chuckled, looking up to find your expression fearful.

You couldn't force the question off your tongue, too scared of the answer to even ask. Luckily he clearly got the hint and answered it for you.

"Listen I cleaned ya off, I didn't do nothin' else. I hate sleepin' birds." he said, pausing before that smirk came back up to his lips, "Like the tattoos though."

Just as he had calmed your nerves he had set them off immediately after. Apparently he hadn't touched you inappropriately, but he had ogled your body enough to take note of your tattoos.

He laughed again, not helping your current state, and waved you over to the small round table by the window.

"Hope y'don't mind I closed all these." he said, tone soft again, "Figured it'd be good for yer head."

He placed a plate of meat and potatoes in front of you gently, sitting across from you as he dug into his own meal.

"Thank you." you said quietly, getting only a nod in response. The smell of the meat on the plate below you reached your nostrils and you felt as though your stomach was going to cave in on itself in hunger. You all but wolfed the food down, having to remind yourself to chew before swallowing.

"Take it slow," Simon said, mouth half full, "Eat too fast you'll get sick."

You took a breath, nodding as you let the food sit in your empty stomach before consuming any more. He was right, after only a few more bites you started to feel a little nauseous. Simon pushed a glass of water your way, and it was gone in seconds. He chuckled, standing up to refill your glass and let you down that one as well.

Once you had had what Simon deemed to be enough food, he offered you two little pills that he assured you were ibuprofen. You looked at him strangely, almost insulted he would think you were dumb enough to accept pills from a stranger. He all but rolled his eyes as he reached down to open your mouth with his other hand. He popped the pills in your mouth and forced them down with another splash of water down your throat. You coughed and pushed his hand away, already having swallowed the pills and not willing to empty your stomach to expel them.

He laughed again, a sound you were starting to hate, as he walked away back towards the counter.

"Couldn't really wash yer hair," he mused, "So if ya want me to run ya a real bath I can."

You were starting to get whiplash from this man, one second he was forcing unknown medication down your throat and the next he was offering to run you a bath. Reluctantly you agreed, simply because you desperately wanted to scrub your scalp.

Once you were in the bathtub, the hot water relaxing your muscles and blood washed from your hair, you felt yourself starting to drift off to sleep again. So you stayed there until the water went cold, and the dull light peeking through the curtain was long gone. You dried off with the towel Simon had provided, and put on the clean clothes he had also given you. Leaving the old clothes folded on top of his hamper, you wandered back out into the hallway, finding Simon in the living room lounging out on the couch.

"Feel better?" he asked as you sat gingerly on the cushion next to him.

"Yeah." you said, nodding a little as he smiled at you. "Sorry if I took too long."

"No need, birdie." he said, reaching out and patting you on the knee again. You realized that he probably didn't know your name, so you offered it to him in hopes he would maybe cease the use of those little pet names. He hummed, rolling your name off his tongue, and you despised the fact that you actually quite liked how it sounded in his accent.

"How's the head?" he asked, eyeing where your forehead was held together by whatever he had put on your wound.

The pills he had given you seemed to be exactly as promised, your headache had subsided enough that you weren't solely focused on the pounding behind your skull.

"A little better. Thanks." you said, giving him a small nod. He let the silence stretch, but also didn't remove his hand from your leg. You were trying to find it comforting, but all the unknowns still had your nerves on high alert. When you snuck a glance up at him he was still staring at you, causing your eyes to flicker back down to your lap. He sighed and moved towards you, causing you to lean back a little to keep a bit of distance between you.

"I know yer scared." he said as you eyed him, "But I'm not gonna hurt ya. Honest."

God you wanted to believe him. It would make things a lot easier for you, and would probably help ease the headache you had, if you could just calm down and trust him. But you were a woman stuck God knows here with a man three times your size, there was no amount of sweet talk he could do that would quiet your alarm bells. Only time would tell if he was a good man, but hopefully you wouldn't be out here long enough to know whether or not he was one.

"I will be frank here though." he continued, "I dunno how long it'll take to get you back to wherever you came from."

That made your stomach drop.

"What do you mean?" you squeaked out, suppressing the urge to vomit directly in his lap.

"Storm's pickin' up. Prolly what crashed yer plane." he said, his eyes surprisingly soft, "Gonna be a long one. I dunno where yer from but out here these things last months."

"Months?!" your headache was suddenly back in full force, and every ounce of air was gone from your lungs.

"Calm down," he said, unable to help the smirk playing on his lips. "I got enough supplies to last us about two months. Then, no matter what, I gotta go into town."

"Why can't we just go now? Before it gets worse?" you asked frantically. He looked genuinely confused at the question.

"Honey that's about a 6 hour drive." he said, before something came to his mind, "C'mere."

He grasped your wrist and dragged you to the window. The seal along the edges was thick, designed to keep the cold out and the warmth in. He opened the curtains gently, and let you looked around. As your eyes adjusted to the fading light, they landed on...nothing.

Trees, as far as your eyes could see. Simon identified the other buildings around the encampment, an outhouse, extra storage, a garage. Your shoulders dropped, that pit in your stomach growing at the realization of just how isolated you were.

"Alright." he said, closing the curtain in front of your face, "Don't need ya panickin' even more."

He was right, you felt a few tears fall from your eyes as you were forced to look your reality in the face. You sighed softly, not bothering to look at him as you turned and walked back down the hallway.

"I'm going to sleep." you said quietly, making him chuckle a bit.

"Fair enough." he said, voice far away as you moped your way back to the little room you had woken up in. The furs on the bed welcomed you, and you didn't even try to suppress the tears anymore, soaking the pillow under your face.

Eventually, after you had cried yourself to sleep, the feeling of the mattress shifting pulled you back to consciousness. You mumbled something out, not even sure of your own words, and were met with a shush from behind you. As soon as you realized Simon was climbing into bed with you, you went stiff.

"What are you doing?" you asked frantically, trying to gauge where he was in the darkness.

"M'getting in bed?" he said, the end of his sentence curving upwards as if he couldn't fathom why you would be asking that. "This is my bed sweetheart."

His bed? Had he been sleeping next to you the whole time you were asleep?

"Then I'm going to-" you started, only to be cut off as he manhandled you around so your back was to him. You tried to wriggle around, get out of his grip, but it was no use.

"Quit movin'." he said gruffly, tucking you into his chest and locking you in place.

"I can sleep on the couch." you tried, but he hummed in response.

"No point. Touch is good for healing, y'know."

There was no way that was true.

"Can't you-"

"No. Jesus, woman. Just go back to sleep."

His tone made it clear your bed was made, no pun intended. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as he sighed behind you. You wanted to tell him to get to the other side of the bed, that you'd be fine sleeping anywhere else, anything but this, but he clearly wasn't interested in listening or respecting your personal space.

You don't get much sleep that night, but Simon is softly snoring within minutes.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

For the first week, Simon continued to give you whiplash. One minute he was asking what your favorite soup was so he could recreate it with the items he had on hand, the next he was dragging you down the hall to sleep in bed with him. The second night you had tried to escape to the couch, but he was having none of it. Continuing to reiterate how sleeping next to him would promote your healing.

You definitely had a concussion. Simon kept having to remind you of things he'd told you or things you'd done already. You gave up on begging him to take you to the hospital, one look out the window and you knew that was impossible. The snow never seemed to stop, and when it did the wind howled through the entire house and made you shiver. Even still, your headaches weren't as prevalent, only happening a few times a day for a few hours. Better than the 24 hour pain you were in for the first few days. He was boasting about skin to skin contact again, and you held your tongue when you really wanted to assure him it was the fact that the only screen in the house was his dusty old TV that hardly ever got powered on.

Just when you had thought you'd reached a point of actually enjoying his company, Simon started to get handsy. He let you relax into a false sense of security the first few nights, but over time his hands started to wander. Most of the time it was up to cup one of your breasts, or both if he was feeling greedy (he always was). He would knead the soft fat in his hands and roll your nipples till they were hard peaks between his calloused fingers, the touch tortuously casual as he drifted off to sleep behind you. His lips found your neck more than once, hot wet kisses leaving spots of his saliva behind your ear.

But one night his hands traveled south, making your body freeze as he toyed with the waistband of his sweats you had on. You whispered his name softly, pleading with him although you weren't quite sure what you were pleading for. Regardless, his fingers wiggled their way past the elastic and moved to separate your folds as he toyed with your clit. Your breathing hitched as he put pressure on the bud, and you hated that it made you keen out a sound that elicited a grin from where Simon was pressing his face into your neck. Your whispered warnings went ignored as Simon pressed his middle finger as deep as it would go, curling it and exploring your walls as your body betrayed you.

You knew you shouldn't want this. It was gross and disgusting and perverted for this man to save your life only to force himself into your body. But fuck it really did feel good. His fingers were thick and warm, and he knew what he was looking for as he located that spot inside you that made your thighs part just a tad more for him. Still, you clenched your jaw, refusing to give in and reward him with cumming on his fingers.

"Stop bein' stubborn." he growled at you, making your face turn inwards towards the pillow.

"Stop being a pervert." you fired back, much to his pleasure. He hummed and shifted you with his arm, making your legs open as he angled himself over you.

"You have no idea." he grinned.

The sick feeling in your stomach was overshadowed by the burning hot orgasm that ripped through you, much to your own surprise. It had been a long time since you'd even touched yourself, so your body was chasing the high even if your mind hated it. Before he could say anything smart, you huffed and pushed his big arm off of you, removing his finger from your cunt as he laughed. You turned back on your side and into a ball as you heard him sucking his finger clean of your juices. You tried to make yourself as small as possible as you desperately chased the sweet unconsciousness of sleep, but Simon sighed happily and draped himself around you again, his natural musk swirling all around you and intoxicating you. From then on, Simon stopped holding back. Once you let him in once, he had no intentions of being anywhere but your pussy.

It was only a matter of time before he wanted a release of his own, and you found yourself filling the role of fleshlight most nights. Though he hadn't breached your hole, he was still opting to use your thighs as a means of getting himself off. He'd let you get off first, not really caring about your orgasm but more so caring that when he fucked through your folds you'd already be wet and warm for him. It was humiliating, laying there as he used you, not even being allowed to get up and clean his cum off of your thighs until the morning.

Simon had never threatened you, never been truly violent, but there were so many rifles and knives around this damn house it always had you on edge and reminded you not to trust this man. So once he was satisfied with your recovery progress, he seemingly decided it was time to celebrate. You'd seen the tip of his cock as it slid through the meat of your thighs, but tonight he wasn't letting you keep your back to him. He pinned you down, his tongue roving over your collarbone as you planted your palms on his shoulders. He was naked and hard, giving you a full view of his thick cock swinging dangerously between his legs as he opened yours. He had your knees spread, so you were completely open to him as you pleaded with him.

"Come on, please don't. Isn't the thigh stuff enough?" you whined shakily, trying to blink away your tears as he aligned himself with your entrance.

"Tired of wasting it," he grunted, shifting himself so his tip was tapping your clit, making you jump. "S'posed to fill yer cunny up."

If you weren't already on edge from his cock putting pressure on your hole, you were on fire as soon as you heard he was intending to cum inside you.

"Simon, no!" you whined, attempting to wriggle out of his iron grip that had you pressed into the mattress. He wasn't listening, not that he would have cared if he was, and pressed his tip into you with a groan. You sobbed a bit, both at the violation and the stretch. As he forced more of his shaft in, he urged you to ease up.

"It'll be easier if you just relax, baby." he hummed, making you grimace. He had to know there was no relaxing for you in this situation.

It seems he got the hint, as he grumbled to himself after only getting about a third of his cock in you. He manhandled you onto your stomach, his waist between your legs as he slid back into your now sopping cunt. You groaned into the pillow, cursing your own body for creating that amount of wetness that welcomed him in. He had both your wrists pinned behind your back as he finally got what he wanted, his cock fully seated inside of you.

The stretch was unlike anything you'd ever felt in your life, and in a different scenario you might even be thanking your lucky stars for a dick this big. But as he set his unrelenting pace, it just hurt so damn bad, that big cock bullying your poor little cunt. His hand was putting too much pressure on your back for you to feel comfortable, especially with your arms all twisted up. After a while you realized he wasn't going anywhere, so let yourself go limp. He grunted in satisfaction as he finally let your arms go and grasped your hips to meet his thrusts.

Against all odds, you felt a familiar fire brewing in the lowest part of your gut. You buried your face further into the pillow as your thighs shook, walls clenching tight as you came on the battering ram being used on your cervix. The tears you were sobbing out were now out of shame. Shame that you hadn't put up more of a fight, shame that you were letting this pervert take advantage of you and fuck you raw.

Through your haze you felt his cock twitching inside you, how hyper aware of the fact that there was a very real chance he could impregnate you way out here. Babbling to him, you pleaded that you weren't taking your birth control, that it wasn't safe, but it all fell on deaf ears. He pressed a hand to the back of your head, pressing you into the pillow to silence you as he filled you with the biggest load you had ever taken. When he was done, he cleaned you up, cooing at you when the tears were still flowing, kissing them away as they escaped your eyes.

"It's okay, birdie." he said, that was the pet name he seemed to use the most, "You'll get used to 'im."

He wasn't even sorry, at least he never said he was. Just telling you that you'd get used to his cock. Once again, the whiplash hit you hard as you stared up into his eyes, warm brown in the candlelight as he gazed at you. When he kissed you it felt soft and romantic, a stark contrast to what he had just done to you. He flipped you over and made you fall asleep with his cum leaking out of you.

Every time after that it was something new, and even though the little voice in the back of your mind kept telling you to stop forgetting your situation, the way Simon ate your pussy was hard to wrestle with. It was nearly impossible to focus on the fact that you were being forced into this while his cock stretched your pretty lips as far as they would go, tickling the back of your throat as he eased your head down. Once he realized you were getting pliant, he fucked you everywhere in the house. The couch, the kitchen counter, the bathtub, hell he even fucked you on the floor of the hallway. The bed remained his favorite, where he could bend you and penetrate you in any position he so pleased. You stopped protesting after the first time. It was easier on your mental to just give in and try and find some enjoyment out of the way he made your body feel, allowing yourself to come undone on his cock sometimes three times a day. Simon clearly never had any live-in pussy, so he was apt to use you like toy at all hours.

After a while, you stopped noticing the snow was no longer falling outside. Simon would leave and go hunting, trapping, whatever it was that he did when he was outside. Your memory wasn't the best, so you'd never flat out asked him, always too afraid that he'd already given you an answer. But it was gnawing at you. So much that you couldn't focus on the vegetables you were peeling. When Simon shoved the door open and trudged in, you waited for the next part of his routine. Whenever he came back from hunting he always wanted to bend you over the couch.

But Simon didn't want to fuck, instead he sat at the kitchen table and started cleaning his rifle. It was odd, it felt almost domestic. You chopping vegetables for dinner and him cleaning his guns on the table. Once you were washing your hands, you finally felt his eyes on you.

"What?" you asked softly, turning around to meet his gaze.

"Come blow me." was all he said. Blinking suddenly, you put the towel down and felt your feet walk you over to him as he opened his legs for you. On autopilot, you sank to your knees in front of him. Fingers delicately undoing his thick leather belt, he grabbed your face suddenly and made you look up at him.

"Naked."

He'd been sweeter, ever since you stopped fighting him, but this was something that still wouldn't settle in you. He was always so...gruff. Simple commands like that made you feel like a dog. Still, you capitulated. Shedding your shirt, the only article of clothing he liked to have you wear these days. No pants and certainly no panties. He hummed as you revealed your breasts, reaching down to pinch one of your nipples roughly and making you yelp.

You continued undoing his belt, pulling his cock out and stroking him a few times in your hand before dutifully wrapping your lips around his tip. He sighed above you, and for once he let you guide yourself. His hands, normally fisting your hair and forcing you up and down, were busy cleaning the mechanisms in his grip. Absentmindedly, your eyes wandered towards the window, the weather bright and sunny and clear.

"Simon?" you asked as you pulled his cock from your mouth with a little pop.

"Mmm?" he hummed, looking down at you.

"The storm's over...isn't it?"

God your voice sounded so small.

He just smiled at you, not stopping his movements with the rag in his hand.

"Keep sucking, birdie."

You blinked two tears out and reattached your lips to his cock as if it was the only thing you knew how to do. When he came, he shoved your head down and spurted down your throat, pulling back up to spray the last ropes of cum on your face just because he knew you hated it.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Nine days. That's how long it took to fuck you.

Simon was proud of himself for making it under ten.

Sure, you fought and squirmed and cried your way through it, but the way your cunt pulsed around him he knew you liked it. Now you were a pro. Opening your legs for him before he could even ask. God he was sure he was in love with you. He was certainly in love with your holes.

Your pussy was the tightest, wettest, warmest place his cock had ever had the pleasure of visiting. He already missed the way you had cried about him cumming inside you the first few times, you never begged for him to pull out anymore because you had learned there was no argument there.

There was also no argument about how much head he wanted - no - expected. If he could strap you to his leg just to keep his cock down your throat he would. He loved that he was still too big for you, because it meant that you were still choking and gagging on him every time. You were learning to get face fucked, and nothing made him cum harder than the sight of your sad little face covered in spit and cum and snot. One time he fucked your throat so deep that you threw up on the floor. You cried when he made you finish the blowjob but he cleaned you and your mess up for you after. His favorite part was always your face when he pulled you off to cum all over those pretty features. You clearly thought it was disgusting, which is why he always did it.

Simon had spent all day looking for something in his supplies he could use as lube. You'd been getting so pliant he knew he was staking his claim on your asshole tonight. But he wasn't a monster. He wouldn't force something is big as his cock into somewhere he knew you'd never taken anything, not with the way you'd flinched at just his thumb intruding past the ring of muscle last night. If he sodomized you using just spit, you'd tear and bleed all over him and the bed, and you surely would never trust his touch again.

This meant he was digging through a storage bin labeled "bathroom" out in the far garage when he heard your footsteps crunching in the snow behind him.

"Si?" you said softly, his heart tugging at the nickname when he twisted around to see you wrapped in one of his coats.

"Everything alright, honey?" he said, moving to stand and walk over to you.

"Just wanted to know where you were." you blinked up at him, still dopey from how hard he fucked you this morning.

"M'lookin' for somethin' for us to use later." he hummed, piquing your interest.

"To use later?" you asked, peering behind him at what he was rummaging through.

"Somethin' slippery. Remember? I'm gonna fuck your ass tonight." he smirked at your expression. Shock and fear and incredulity, your reaction to his bluntness was always so cute.

"What? No, Simon, I don't wanna do that, please." tears welled up in your eyes, his big gloves looking cartoonish on your hands as you grasped his arms desperately.

"We already talked about it, silly girl." he mused, one hand coming up to grab your lips as they parted to complain, "We'll do it in the sauna so yer nice 'n relaxed, hmm?"

You paused, face scrunched up as you dug in your hazy memory for a moment that wasn't there. He tried not to do it too often, but your untreated concussion had a few lasting effects that he used to his advantage. The easiest one was that your short term memory wasn't that great. He didn't know you before this accident, so maybe it was always shitty, but now he would falsely remind you about things you'd agreed to even if the conversation never happened. You always ended up having fun, so he never thought twice about it. Even though he knew it shouldn't, the control he had over you went straight to his cock, and he was rock hard before he could blink.

"Fuck." he muttered, turning back to the box and making one last effort to find something. He grinned like a madman when he turned over a bottle of baby oil, frozen but still good.

"Come on, birdie." he grunted, grabbing your wrist and hauling you across the clearing towards the sauna.

"Now?! You said tonight!" you whined, music to his ears. He grinned to himself as you stumbled behind him on the way over to the small wooden structure.

The sauna he had built had two rooms. The entrance was small, nothing but a few hooks and shelves to place clothes on before entering. The actual sauna was a nice lovely steam room to warm up and keep your muscles relaxed. Simon loved fucking you in here, you got all hot and sweaty and complain-y, nothing made him harder. He opened the door and used the control panel to start the room up, placing the bottle of baby oil on the bench to warm up and melt back to its normal consistency. You were still pouting when he turned back, arms folded like a petulant child that got told no for the first time. He chuckled at you as he began to strip himself. Normally he always got you undressed first, but he always let the sauna warm up a bit before taking any of your clothes off.

Your lips parted and your eyes widened when his cock flung straight up to smack his lower stomach, tip red and hard and leaking with want. You whined, slipping your gloves off and reaching out to stroke him gently. Simon hummed, smug with your Pavlovian response to seeing his cock. Your eyes flashed up to ask him for permission to suck him off, and as soon as he nodded once you were sinking to your knees.

He let you enjoy yourself, his hands carding through your hair instead of bullying you down around his shaft. He loved to watch you suck him off, swollen lips and messy tongue exploring every vein on him, teeth grazing his tip the way he liked. You'd learned him so fast, such a smart girl. Once he could feel the heat at his back he pulled you up and took all of his clothes off of you, leaving you in the state he wished you would walk around in all the time: completely naked.

Your lips were still shiny with precum, eyes glossed over as you already forgot why he was dragging you in here. Simon grabbed a mat from the shelf next to the door before ushering you in alongside him. He started you off gentle, giving you his cock the way you liked it. He sat on the bench, sturdy legs spread wide as you bounced up and down on him. Your hands were splayed on his shoulders as he held your waist to guide your movements, moving you up so his tip played at your entrance only to slide you down as you squirted a bit onto his balls. Your eyes were closed, sweat starting to drip down your pretty breasts as you fought to catch your breath. He slammed you down, piercing you hard as you came, a gorgeous stream flowing out of you and coating his balls before wetting the bench seat below him.

Your lids were heavy, brain all fogged up as your high was intensified by the temperature in the sauna. He eased you onto the mat he had rolled out onto the floor, guiding you onto your soft tummy and arching your back nice and pretty for him. The oil had melted now, so he opened the seal on the bottle and squirted some on the plush fat of your ass. You moaned as he massaged you there, body settling into your arch as you relaxed. Simon took his time, spreading your cheeks and messily wiping the oil all along your crack. Your eyes snapped open as soon as his forefinger slid into your ass up to the second knuckle, the muscle of your hole tightening in fear as you realized.

"Simon please I don't wanna. You're too big." you whined, hips bucking as he ignored you and pressed his finger in all the way.

"Just relax, birdie." he said softly, pumping his finger a bit and groaning at the tightness. His cock was full to burst, and he was sure he wasn't going to last very long in a hole as tight as this. Pouring more oil on your hole as he opened you up, you whined again as he stretched the muscle open with another finger. You mumbled into the mat about it hurting, but he knew from the way your cunt was leaking you were enjoying any pain you were experiencing.

Simon stayed that way for a while, pumping you open and rubbing his cock on the oiled skin on your leg to gain some relief. Once you were drooling over three fingers, he pulled them out and watched your hole gape, ready for him. Dousing his cock in baby oil he mounted you, shushing your tears away as you tried to shy away from him.

"None of that, now." he said sternly, pinning you in place with his words.

You stilled, arching a bit more and opening up your hole deliciously for him. He hummed, dragging his soaked cock up and down your crack, pressing gently at the ring of muscle now open in a perfect little 'o' for him. All it took was a bit of pressure and your hole sucked his tip right in, making him hiss at the pressure. You yelped out, unaware that your own body was beckoning him further inside you.

Pressing further, your wails were lost on Simon, who's vision was going black with pleasure. He was lost in how much your hole was sucking him in, begging to be ridden hard while you sobbed beneath him. As soon as he was seated fully inside you, his heavy balls hitting your cunt with a wet slap, he sighed. He had almost claimed you fully, the only thing left to do was to cum in your ass and then all your holes will have been coated with his seed.

One squeeze from the walls of your ass made him look down at you, face scrunched up in discomfort and a pool of tears gathering under your face on the mat. You always cried when he had you try something new, but as he pulled back out of your hole and pressed forward again he knew you'd learn to love this too.

Once he had let you adjust as much as you could, he set a respectable pace for the both of you. It didn't take long for you to start moaning, the pressure in your ass making your cunt throb as it went unattended. You tried to reach a hand down and rub yourself, but he swatted your hand away and took on the role himself. The second the pads of his fingers came into contact with your clit, your ass clenched around his so tight he almost came.

The tears under your face had been replaced with drool as he speared you over and over again, grunting about how tight of a fit it was.

"Si, I'm gonna cum!" you moaned as he picked up his pace with his hand.

"Yeah?" he teased, "G'na cum while my cock is up your arse?"

You whined a bit at that, absolutely pathetic as you nodded into the mat. It took everything in Simon not to cum while you shook under him, a nice warm waterfall trickling down your legs and soaking the mat under his knees. His hand moved from your clit to grip the fat of your hips, picking up his pace as his cock started to twitch. He could vaguely hear you mumbling about slowing down, how you couldn't take it this hard, but you were doing so good for him. Such a nice warm sleeve for him to fill.

His grip on your hips tightened like a vice as he came, adding to the pinpoint bruises he already left there. His balls tightened as he spilled deep into you, making you whine again about him being messy. A few more pumps to make him cum squirt out from around where he was stuffing you full and he finally pulled out of you gently. With a moan you slid forward, laying prone on the mat as you soothed yourself.

Watching new bruises blossom, Simon felt a familiar twinge of guilt that he sometimes got after ruining you. The first time he fucked you when you cried the whole time, he cradled you so delicately after as a salve on his own heart, and this time was no different. Oiling up his hands, he started on your legs, ensuring you he wasn't up to anything nefarious. Once you realized he as just easing your tension with a massage, you all but melted into the floor.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Simon usually stayed in bed until you woke up, unless he was out hunting. You pouted when the bed next to you was cold, not remembering him saying anything last night. Usually he left you with a goodbye kiss on the forehead before you fell back asleep. Maybe you just lost the memory.

Stretching, you padded down the hall and into the kitchen, surprised to find Simon with his brows furrowed at the open cabinet in front of him.

"Si?" you asked, voice still thick with sleep, "What're you doing?"

He looked at you, a little surprised. Your brain was about a minute behind and it was so frustrating that it couldn't unravel what was clearly a very easy mystery.

"We're leavin' tomorrow, birdie." he said, turning back to his notepad and scribbling something down.

"Leaving?" you asked, a little shocked at hearing the word.

"Mmm." he hummed, closing the cabinet and moving on to the pantry, "Got nothin' left to eat."

That was true, the shelved were getting more and more bare every day. But you weren't focused on flour and canned goods, what you wanted to know what what that meant for you.

"So..." you couldn't find the right words to form the question on your mind.

"So what?" he asked, curiously avoiding your gaze. He was never like this, it make your inside twist a little at the implication that he was going to get you to town and let you fend for yourself.

"What does that mean?" you asked, voice small again in a way that only happened when you were asking things you shouldn't.

"Means I gotta get supplies. Need to eat." he said gruffly. You winced a little at him using "I" and not "we". You didn't respond, merely standing in the kitchen staring at his back as he took log of what he needed.

After a while he sighed, "What? Scared I'm tossin' ya to the curb?" he said, eyes a little annoyed when they fell on you. You stuttered out the beginning of several responses, unsure of what to say that would keep him happy but also be truthful.

"You've been cryin' and beggin' to leave since ya got here. Now yer blubberin' t'stay?"

You shook your head, trying to wake up from what was clearly a nightmare. Simon wasn't always nice, but he was never this cold. His tone was sharp and his words bit down on the soft tissue of your already bruised brain. The idea that he had broken you down to rebuild you to his liking, just to then leave you was impossible to fathom. The idea of being anywhere else but this cabin, with anyone else but Simon, they were unimaginable thoughts. You wanted to blurt out that you thought he loved you, but the words fizzled out once you looked at him again.

"You don't want me here anymore?" was all that came out, sniffling as he rolled his eyes.

"I appreciate the sex, birdie." he said, words falling on you like napalm, "But...figured with all the fightin' you do you'd book it. Fine by me."

He shrugged, turning away before you could answer. You were shell shocked.

"I don't wanna leave." you whispered. He stalled, you saw it. It was only for a moment, but he paused before turning around. He had to gather himself before facing you.

"No? What happened to that feisty girl I pulled from that wreck? Huh? She hated me." he said, a smirk playing on his lips just a tad as he made his way over to you. You reached your arms out for him on instinct and he came up to cradle your face.

"Don't hate you." you mumbled, a bit intoxicated by his scent.

"Yeah? Yer a good girl now, hm?"

You nodded, lids heavy as his thumbs stroked your cheeks, a little tear stained from his harsh words. You were a good girl now. No matter how hard you had fought or tried to stay strong, he had manhandled you into a good girl. His good girl.

"Prove it." he said, a hand wrapping around your neck and pushing you to your knees. His hands were busy undoing his belt so you tucked yours under your thighs, opening your mouth for him and letting your tongue roll out.

Simon had trained you for almost two months, so now he could slide down his cock straight down your throat and the only reaction from you was squeezing your eyes shut. You'd learned to breathe through your nose, relax, and let him take the lead. He liked it messy, as always, and he frowned at you when you pulled off early. But he hummed in satisfaction when you simply lifted your shirt off, revealing yourself to him. You spread your legs a bit, letting him step on either side of your knees to gain a better purchase as he fucked your mouth. His pace was unrelenting, pulling all the way out to let his tip rest heavy on your tongue, then slamming himself all the way down your throat, nose nestling in the curly hairs that adorned the base of his cock. You breathed him in as he came down your throat with a few shallow thrusts, drinking him down and proudly showing your empty mouth to him.

He smiled down at you, before lifting you up and onto the kitchen table, spread out for him like a Sunday roast. Grabbing one of his hunting knives from the other counter, you eyes him warily. Sometimes, when he got in a certain mood, Simon liked to bring his version of "toys" into the bedroom with him. A far cry from vibrators and butt plugs, he'd penetrated you with almost every knife handle he had in the house, and dared to hold a handgun to your temple while he fucked you. All things that shouldn't have turned you on, but they did.

Grinning at you, he gently coaxed your legs open, heels resting on the tabletop next to you as he licked his lips in anticipation. He gripped the blade carefully, holding the back of the sharp edge so he could ease the butt end of the handle up against your entrance. You let out a moan, your head briefly lolling back, the ribbed handle of the knife rubbing against your walls in just the right way to make you shudder.

"Shiiiit, baby." you heard Simon say under his breath. Opening your eyes and looking between your legs, he had pushed the knife in all the way to the hilt, the clench in your cunt keeping it in place so he could let go. Just the shiny, dangerously sharp edge of the blade could be seen extending from your leaking hole. Your brain fogged over at the sight, a whimper leaving your mouth as he told you to stay put while he fetched something.

He came back, polaroid camera in hand, lifting it up to his eye and snapping a picture of you naked and sprawled out with a knife in your cunt.

"Y'really love me, huh?" he teased, lightly gripping the blade again and easing it out and back in again, fucking you with the handle. You whined out, not wanting to admit something as pathetic as falling in love with your captor. But he was right, even if he hadn't given you much choice, you clearly didn't put up that much of a fight if all it took to rewire you was some good dick.

"Y'wanna know somethin' birdie?" he crooned at you, slipping the knife out of you and tossing it aside. He have himself a few strokes, cock still hard and leaking.

No warning, he pressed halfway into you, making you jump and groan out his name. He placed a strong hand on either side of your head, leaning down over you as he bottomed out inside you. He hadn't continued his statement, so you whined at him to finish.

"What, Si?" you moaned, making him smile at you. A real smile, a big, crooked, and smug smile. His hand traveled up your sternum, gripping your neck as he pulled you up into a wet kiss.

"I was never letting you go." he mumbled into you, before pushing you back down and holding you in place by your throat. His words echoed around in your empty skull as he fucked you, your hips aching at the pace he set.

You were a little embarrassed, feeling a special brand of pathetic that only Simon could seem to drag out of the pits of your soul. Of course he wasn't letting you leave. Not after marking you as his forever. He only wanted you to admit to yourself that you loved being in his cage. You needed to hear it from your own lips before you'd ever begin to really accept your fate. And you played right into his hand, groveling the instant he went cold on you. You sobbed as you came on him, his hand squeezing the life out of you as you spluttered and scratched at his arm.

"Atta girl." he said through gritted teeth, his other hand joining the other on your throat as he used them as leverage to chase his own release. When he came, it felt like you could taste it on your tongue it was so much and so deep. It spurted out around his shaft, making a messy puddle on the table beneath you. Once he eased himself to a stop, he leaned over you again, the kiss this time soft and loving.

"Y'know I love you, birdie." he whispered, sending a chill up your spine.

He didn't, not really. You knew that. But he thought he did, and hopefully that was going to be enough.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The drive to town was agonizing. 6 hours of nothing but white tundra and more trees. You blew him twice you were so bored. He laughed at your pout when you crawled over again, the bench seat of the truck proving useful.

"That'll be three, love." he said, stroking your hair.

"I'm booored." you said, "Please?"

"I'm gonna be bone dry by the time we get there." he chuckled, "How about you touch yourself for me?"

The cab was warm enough that you didn't have to have all Simon's big coats wrapped around you. You peeled off your sweats, angling yourself against the door panel so he could have a good view of your fingers exploring your already sopping wet pussy. You let yourself go, leaning your head back against the glass of the window as you sunk two of your fingers inside yourself. Gathering the wetness you scissored them across your clit, rubbing desperate circles as your other hand filled your cunt.

"Fuck." Simon said, trying his best to keep his eyes on the path in front of him. The smell of your arousal had him white knuckling the steering wheel, finally giving in and reaching a hand out to assist you. He swatted the hand pumping in and out of you away, replacing your fingers with his thick ones. You groaned at the switch, one of his fingers dwarfing two of yours. You stayed like that, him hooking his fingers and massaging that spongy spot and you rubbing desperate circles on your clit as you came loudly, your cries bouncing around the cab of the truck. That seemed to satiate you for a while, before you woke up from another small cat nap and Simon had to stop the truck to fuck you back to sleep.

With a gentle shake of your shoulder, he informed you that you were in town. It was a small one, the main road seemingly containing every building they needed. Simon told you to stay put while he ran into the gun store, and you couldn't help but stare out the window at the people walking on the sidewalk. You jumped at the driver's side door slamming shut, Simon tugging his mask on before he disappeared into the building.

For the first time in weeks Simon couldn't see or hear you, and it made your heart race. You could get out and scream bloody murder. Beg someone to help you, tell them to call the police and arrest Simon for everything he had put you through over the past 2 months. But you didn't. You stayed put, gazing silently at the passerby as they went about their lives. A little girl and her mother passed by the passenger's side, and your chest tightened. Was your mother looking for you? It made you realize Simon never explained what he did after the crash.

As if on cue, the driver's door opened and Simon huffed in, tossing a box of ammo on the floor by your feet.

"Did you report the crash?" you asked, surprising even yourself. Simon froze, staring at you, probably thinking you were considering running.

"Yes." he said simply.

"Did you tell them I was dead?" you continued.

"No."

That was a little astonishing.

"So..." you had no idea how to even phrase the question there were so many things running through your mind.

"Reported four dead, one survivor." he said, leaning back into his seat, "One survivor who would be stayin' with me until the storm cleared. They never followed up."

"Does my mother know?" you asked, and he sighed.

"I don't know, baby." his eyes were soft again, but there was a warning hidden in them.

"I need to talk to her." you said, carrying on before he could interrupt, "She has to know I'm okay. Simon, please, my dad is dead. She can't..." saying the sentence out loud broke something in you. Your father was dead and you had spent the last two months as a glorified sex toy.

"Shhh," he said, leaning over and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. "In the next town we'll figure it out."

"Next town?" you sniffled, confused as to why you would be continuing on.

"Mmm." he nodded, starting the truck back up, "This place is too small. We need more than just food, you don't have a thing to your name darlin."

He was right, he obviously never recovered your luggage from the wreck, so you'd been wearing his clothes and using his products for the entire time you'd been there. So after another hour and a half of driving you arrived in a bigger town, one with a department store.

Simon let you pick out months worth of toiletries, food you liked, even a few DVDs of your favorite movies that you could watch on his old TV. He assured you there was no issue with money, which you did not question. Once again he trusted you to go off on your own, sending you into a clothing store to get some good basics. He was going to be across the street at a hunting shop selling pelts, and told you that when you were done, the shop owner would let you use his phone to call your mother.

After a nice time talking to the lady working at the store, you left with a few hefty bags of clothes. Most of them were thick cold weather items, but you had grabbed some casual things as well as two sets of lingerie to surprise Simon with as a thank you. You dropped your wares off at the truck and nervously opened the door to the hunting shop, looking around for Simon. He waved you over and the shop owner smiled at you.

"Didn't tell me she was such a beaut!" he said, to which Simon smiled, albeit a little stiff.

"I did you just didn't believe me." he grunted.

"Course a man like you still manages to land a girl with a model body even all the way out there, huh? What she do fall from the sky like an angel?" he joked, making both you and Simon laugh lightly at the irony.

"Hank, can y'show my girl the phone?" Simon said loudly, another man coming out from the back room and nodding.

"Over here, sweetheart." he called over to you, and you didn't miss the way Simon stiffened next to you upon hearing the pet name.

My girl.

Was that what you were? His girl? You figured that made sense, he had staked his ownership over you plenty of times. As the man handed you the landline, he told you how to dial out before leaving you alone to make your call. For a moment you just stared at the phone wondering what you were even supposed to say to her. Was she worried? Was she looking for you?

Luckily muscle memory dialed the number for you, and before you knew it you were bouncing your leg rapidly as you prayed she picked up the phone. She didn't pick up the first time you called, but it was a strange number, so you redialed and hoped she got the hint.

"Hello??" her voice crackled through, clearly annoyed some random person was calling repeatedly.

"Hi mom." you breathed, saying your name felt foreign at this point, Simon barely ever used it.

You heard her drop the phone in surprise before yelling out your name. She was relieved to hear your voice, and told you that the Alaskan state police had informed her of the crash, and told her that you were safe with a hunting guide. If only she knew what he was doing to you when she thought he was keeping you safe. Once again the option of truth flashed before you, you could lower your voice and tell her to send the police to the town you were in before it was too late.

But for some frustrating reason, the thought of living without Simon was unthinkable. So you just assured her you were perfectly fine and that you had actually fallen in love with said hunting guide. You told her that it sounded crazy but you were fine, you'd find a way to talk with her more, and that getting on a plane home was simply not an option. She sounded skeptical as all mothers would, but she let you make the choice to stay. You both ended the calls with "I love you" and then she was gone again. You racked your brain for the phone numbers for any of your friends, to no avail. The only numbers you had memorized were your parents, and you couldn't call your father. A soft knock on the door behind you caught your attention, and Simon was informing you it was time to go.

The two of you stayed in a motel that night, and when his hands wandered over to you, you let him climb on top of you before you gave him a big kiss.

"Can we go slow tonight?" you asked into his lips, making him hum.

"My birdie wants to make love, huh?" he said softly, kissing his way down your neck as he pushed into you. You keened out for him, back arching up and pressing your chest to his as he set a slow, deep pace that had you leaking onto the cheap sheets under you. Simon kept that pace all night, never once speeding up and drilling into you like you knew he liked. He allowed you to lose yourself under him, and you allowed yourself to feed into the fantasy that you two had come together under regular circumstances.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The drive back was even more agonizing, and it was so bright out that you spent most of the drive with your head in Simon's lap. He was happily obliging your oral fixation, only pushing your head down and holding you there a few times when he came. 6 hours later and you were back at his cabin, your belly full of cum.

You tried to help him unload everything, but he waved you off, telling you to focus on unpacking your new clothes and fitting them into the space he had cleared in the closet. So you did as you were told, letting Simon do the heavy lifting while you sat and sorted your new socks. By the time you were done, he had brought all the kitchen supplies in, so while he was in the yard fixing something on the snowmobile you unpacked all that as well. It felt strangely domestic, and it reminded you that you had stashed those lingerie sets away from his eyes. Grinning, you hurried back into his bedroom, also your bedroom now, fishing them out from where they were hidden and picked one out. It was simple enough, a frilly pink babydoll that you knew would have him hard as a rock.

"Birdie?" you heard him call out, his boots shuffling into the living room as he looked for you. You put on a sly smile and slinked out into the hallway.

"Over here!" you said cheerfully, and he was muttering about gas for the blah blah blah when he looked up and froze on the spot.

"Wha- where...whe-" he was sputtering, you'd never seen him like this, and it was rather endearing.

"You like it?" you asked innocently, giving him a little twirl.

"Oh baby." he breathed, running a pair of rough cold hands up along your sides making you squeal, "I love it."

He dropped to a knee, his face under the bottom hem of the babydoll, mouth already on you as you elected not to put any panties on. You whined, knees wobbling as he sucked on your clit, his tongue rabidly dancing across the bud. He grasped your ass, holding you in place while he ate you like that, allowing you to grab a hold of his short blond hair as you came with a shake.

"I have something for you, too." he grinned, leaving you standing on shaky legs as he walked over to the kitchen table. The box was already open, so he handed it to you and let you look inside. Nestled in the tissue paper was a shiny new butt plug, a pink gem in the shape of a heart at the end. You felt your face heat up as he stepped closer to you.

"Even got ya real lube." he said, grinning as he held up the bottle. Picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom, you couldn't help but giggle.

He set you gently on your feet and took the box from you, taking the plug out and pushing you softly backwards so you landed on the mattress behind you. He watched the way your breasts bounced in the lingerie, almost forgetting what he had in his hands. Easing you open, he cracked open the bottle of lube, smearing it all over from the top of your pussy all the way across your ass crack. You whined a little as his forefinger probed your puckered hole, stretching you a little before he lubed up the plug.

Watching his movements, you were almost drooling as you watched him press the princess plug into you, your ass all but sucking the toy in and holding it there. The pink heart gem glittered up at him, matching your babydoll perfectly. Simon couldn't held himself, he held your thighs open again and descended on your pussy again.

"I can't wait to ruin you." he murmured into you.

And ruin you he did, he drew three orgasms out of you with his cock, making you squeal every time he flicked or adjusted the plug. Once his cock was fully seated inside your cunt, you were a mess under him. He was stretching you so much it was pressing on the plug from inside, and you had never felt this full. The warmth of the burn manifested itself in the waterfall flowing from your legs, soaking the mattress below. You were sobbing out apologies as he shushed you, slapping the side of your face gently to clear your brain fog.

"You look so pretty, baby." he said softly, pulling the fabric covering your breasts down so they bounced out. Leaning down he covered one with his mouth, rolling your nipple gently with his teeth. You were a sobbing mess, begging him to let you cum, and once he gave you the permission you went off like a bomb. He was forced out of you as a stream of hot liquid sprayed out, coating Simon's lower half.

"God I love when you do tha'." he groaned, the sight of it making him cum for the second time that night, spurting his load all over your spent cunt, smearing the mess all over your sex.

Simon knew you hated when he pulled that reaction from you, you hated making a mess. But as always, he already had a plan, quickly heating up a bath for you to rest in while he cleaned up the room. He changed the sheets and used the dirty ones to dry the floor, tossing them all in the hamper when he got back to the bathroom.

"How're ya feelin' lovie?" he asked softly, getting nothing more than a mewl in response. Smiling, he nudged you to the middle of the tub so he could climb in behind you, settling you between his thick thighs as you nodded back off.

"Hey." he said, jostling you awake again.

"Mmm?" you hummed, slowly opening your eyes to look up at him.

"I do love you. Honest." he said, softer than anything.

"I love you too." you said, giving him a soft smile.

You were both lying, and you both knew it.

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