Simon "Ghost" Riley oneshots

Breaking Apart (smut)

Simon had never been drawn to virgins. There was no appeal in the innocence, no thrill in the uncharted territory. He preferred his partners seasoned, experienced enough to know what they wanted but still yielding to his touch. Easy prey, he thought to himself, though not in the sense of conquest. It was the way they let him push their boundaries, the way their bodies opened for him, straining and shuddering as he filled them completely.

He liked the way they marveled, wide-eyed, at his size, their breaths hitching when he stretched them further than they thought possible. There was always that moment, brows knit together, fists clenching the sheets or his shoulders, as they adjusted to him, their pride flickering to life when they reached the base, fully sheathed. It wasn’t just submission; it was triumph in their eyes, a quiet victory in taking him, mastering him in their own way. Simon didn’t mind. In fact, he reveled in it. There was something intoxicating about being a beast to conquer, a challenge that left them gasping, trembling, yet unmistakably satisfied.

He didn’t need innocence to find satisfaction. He needed fire.

But then he found you.

It was over the moment his gaze landed on you, those wide, innocent eyes like a frightened fawn staring into the abyss of his soul. Something inside him shifted, something he couldn’t explain. He’d been the predator all his life, the hunter who reveled in the chase and the inevitable surrender. Yet here you were, delicate and unguarded, bringing the massive beast in him to his knees with nothing more than a glance.

The fire he sought before felt hollow now, meaningless against the quiet power you held. It wasn’t submission he craved anymore; it was you, your touch, your trust, your everything. You made him feel like he could be more than just the beast. You made him want to be better. For you, he would tame himself. For you, he’d learn what it meant to love.

The only problem was that he was too big. Much too big for you.

It wasn’t just his size, though that alone was daunting, it was the overwhelming presence of him, the way he consumed every inch of space around you, leaving you breathless under his gaze. His hands, rough and massive, dwarfed your delicate frame, and you wondered how something so strong could hold you so gently.

But when his lips brushed against yours, and his body pressed to yours with aching restraint, you felt it, the undeniable truth of him. He was too much in every way: too large, too intense, too overwhelming. And yet, the way he handled you, the way he tempered his strength for you, made it impossible to care.

Even as he whispered against your ear, voice low and gravelly with need, “Tell me if it’s too much,” you couldn’t help but tremble. He was too big, yes, but for him, you’d find a way to take it all.

He can’t fuck you properly, no matter how much you both want it. The sheer size of him makes it impossible, and yet the frustration only seems to fuel his need. So, he settles for something else, something primal and desperate.

He presses his cock against your slick slit, the heat of you almost enough to undo him. His massive hands grip your thighs, squeezing them tight around his shaft as he begins to rut against you, the motion rough and needy. It’s a pale imitation of what he wants, what you both crave, but it doesn’t matter. Not when he’s utterly captivated by the way you look beneath him, so small and fragile, his broad frame practically engulfing yours.

Each thrust pushes him through the tight press of your thighs, his cock gleaming with a mix of his need and yours. With every stroke, he leaks onto your soft skin, streaks of him smearing across your belly, leaving you marked in the most intimate way. The sight drives him wild, your flushed cheeks, the way your body shivers with every graze of him against your sensitive flesh, the way you take him, even if it’s like this.

“God, look at you,” he growls, voice heavy with reverence and desire, his hips stuttering as he nears the edge. “So perfect, so fucking mine.”

Sex with him is a slow, deliberate breaking-in. He knows what he’s working with, knows his size is too much for you all at once. So he starts with his fingers, thick and calloused, teasing and stretching you until you’re trembling beneath him.

Simon’s rough fingers hovered over you, calloused pads brushing over the delicate petals of your softness like he was savoring the moment. His hooded eyes watched you intently, the weight of his gaze igniting a fire low in your belly.

"Sweet as pie, aren’t you?" he murmured, voice deep and gravelly, the words brushing against your skin like velvet.

The first finger slid inside, slow and deliberate, the stretch enough to make you wince, thighs trembling as you clamped down hard. Your teeth sank into your lower lip, a shiver running through you as he worked you open inch by inch. It was overwhelming, a sharp pressure you weren’t used to, but you couldn’t stop the way your hips lifted to meet him, wanting more despite the ache.

The first press of a single finger has you wincing, a sharp sting of discomfort that makes your breath hitch. He pauses instantly, his dark eyes flicking to yours, full of concern, his voice a low rumble. “Too much? Tell me if it’s too much.”

"You’ve never been touched like this before, have you?" he rasped, voice tinged with something primal, something that had you spiraling. "So tight, love."

“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, his voice rough but tender, as if holding himself back is the only thing keeping him sane. “Just a little more, love. I’ll make it fit, I’ll make you ready for me.”

Before you could respond, he added a second finger, the stretch forcing a gasp from your throat. Your hands fisted in the sheets, head thrown back as your body adjusted, the heat pooling in your core building to an unbearable crescendo. His fingers filled you completely, scissoring to spread you wider, every stroke brushing against a spot that had your vision going white at the edges.

The tension only tightened when his lips descended on you, hot and wet against your clit. The rough drag of his tongue sent shockwaves through your body, and you cried out, hips jerking against his face. He didn’t stop, didn’t relent, lapping at you with a hunger that left you shaking.

"Fuck, that’s it," he growled against your flesh, voice muffled but still commanding. "Give me what I want."

Your body obeyed, a flood of warmth crashing over you as your walls clamped down around his fingers, holding him captive. The knot of pleasure inside you unraveled violently, leaving you trembling and gasping for air, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer.

"Good girl," he praised, his fingers still buried deep, stroking your aftershocks as his tongue pressed lazy circles into your overstimulated flesh. "Look at you, all mine."