Sugar and Sweat: Simon Riley
A/N: in honor of oct 31st, felt like writing something nasty
Featuring: our favourite masked man
C/W: mdni, NSFW content, implied younger fem reader, dom!simon, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), brief mention of fingering, unprotected vaginal penetration, among other things
Simon Riley who’s in his early forties. He’d just been discharged by the SAS, the entire TF141 dispersed as if their years of commitment and service meant fuck all to the new bastards in charge. It’d been an ‘honourable’ discharge, but that meant jack shit when he’s now lost everything—the task force had not only been his family but his life.
Simon Riley who feels stranded outside the military base. He lacks the qualification to get a decent job and all he has left in his name are a few articles of clothes and scraps. Thank god, with the last of some shitty government fund, Simon is able to purchase a cheap place to stay.
Simon Riley who now lives in a trailer park, brooding and grumpy. Still feeling heavy from his dismissal, he’s fallen into old habits of chain-smoking and drinking. A whole mid-life crisis. He’s overwhelmed by rage when he’s sluggish with intoxication, but when he’s sober, it hurts more than ever.
Simon Riley who opens the door one morning, wearing only the dog tag he hadn’t once taken off and an aged pair of low-hanging jeans. Irritated he grunts, “What the fuck do you want this ear—” But then he sees you. A pretty little thing who has no place in his trailer park full of junkies and perverted old men.
Simon Riley who invites you inside. Funnily, it’s the first time he has let anyone into his home. Simon unashamedly stares you up and down, taking in your luscious hair, butter-yellow dress, twinkling eyes, and oh soft skin. He learns that you’re baking cake for a friend and are here to borrow sugar. Albeit hesitant, Simon rustles through his pantry cabinet and finds a packet of sugar that hasn't expired. He isn't entirely sure why he’s offering a helping hand but he finds his efforts worth it when you flash him the sweetest smile he’s ever seen. Christ.
Simon Riley who raises a brow when you ask, “What can I do in return, mister? You’ve been so kind.” He’s half stunned and half intrigued at your enthusiastic demand to repay him. Really, he’d just expected you to go on your way. But since you asked… maybe he can get you to clean his trailer? Or maybe he can have a share of the goods you’re baking.
Simon Riley who is still considering what compensation to ask of you when he catches your shy gaze dropping to his scarred torso, not-so-slyly checking him out. He watches as you instantly grow pink and turn away. Ding. Suddenly, he knows exactly what he wants from you.
Simon Riley who swipes empty beer bottles off of his couch and folds you over like a pretzel, knee to your chest. He slides your frothy dress up to reveal a pair of lace panties that he desperately wants to tear off. As he push the flimsy material to the side, he lets out a guttural sound, "Fuck, prettiest fuckin' pussy I've seen."
Simon Riley who gives you the best head you've ever received. He kisses and licks, sucking on your swollen clit, then thrusting his tongue in and out with such expertise that you can't help but to feel a rush of jealousy at the others who had been lucky to experience this before you. Simon's stubbled jaw scratches at your supple skin but what's pleasure without a little pain? He eats like a man starved, and when he adds a few delicious curl of thick fingers, you're immediately bucking against his mouth.
Simon Riley who finally frees his aching cock from the restraint of his pants, silently amused as he watches the startled look on your face. He answers your question before it's even asked, as if it's an ordinary concern. "You'll take it. We'll make it fit, love." Then he's stretching you apart to accommodate his size and filling you to the hilt like you've never felt before, drawing out the most humiliating gasp you've ever gasped.
Simon Riley who barely lets you adjust before beginning to fuck into you, rough and hard, until you're sure you're delirious. A large hand of his settles around the base of your neck, not tight but firm as he ensures that you feel every vein and pulse with each snap of his hips. At some point, you can barely keep your eyes open, having been fucked dumb on his cock. All you can focus on is how scarily endowed he is, the dog tag hovering above your face, the stench of sweat, and the slick sound of skin on skin echoing through the room. You've never felt such bliss and filth at once.
Simon Riley who, despite his rugged exterior, marred form, and intimidating presence, praises like he worships you. "Good fuckin' girl, doing so well f' me." "Taking it like you're made for it." "Maybe I should keep you huh? Fuck you dumb on my cock like this every day?" "Sweetest thing I've tasted, fuckin' hell." "Gonna be good and cum for me, hm?"
Simon Riley who groans as you whimper and arch your back, clenching tight around his cock. He feels himself pulse and quickly pulls out before he spills, covering your soft thighs with warm spurts of his cum. Simon takes a second to tentatively brush a strand of hair away from your face, covertly admiring you with a fascination that catches himself off guard. Seeing you meet his gaze with gentle eyes, he finds himself craving something new and wanting after nearly a year of lost light.
Simon Riley who has you seated on his lap, pulled against his muscled body after he had cleaned you up and handed you a shirt to wear. He can't help but question his years of self-discipline as he feels his cock hardening again at the alluring sight of you in his oversized clothes. "How you feelin'?" Simon asks. On the surface, it seems that he's merely studying your dazed expression, when really, he's memorising every contour and freckle in case he never sees you again. Simon despises the fact that he won't even be able to blame you if you wish to not be associated with the likes of him. He may be familiar with rejection but that doesn't lessen the sting.
Simon Riley who is surprised when you flash him a devastatingly pure smile that has his stomach feeling all sorts of odd. He cocks a brow as you murmur in a meek but honeyed voice, "A little sore, but it's alright. If you don't mind me asking mister—what's your name?" Simon is disarmed by your curiosity, but more than that, by his own reaction. He can't quite understand what's happening as he willingly speaks of his guarded past, simply because your fingers had traced the ink along his skin. And when he slips his dog tag around your neck and goes as far as to offer you dinner, the realisation strikes him hard. You've bewitched him.
Simon Riley who has been befuddled by his own behaviour ever since you knocked on his door earlier. Yet he knows one thing for certain—you won't just be the neighbour who came by to borrow sugar. When you agree to join him for a humble meal later, what Simon feels is instantaneous. For the first time since he was discharged, he feels something good—a fragile spark of hope that maybe, just maybe, his life isn't entirely over after all.
Can you guys tell he likes to swear?
