Simon "Ghost" Riley oneshots

Ruined (smut)

"He taught me to love, but he also taught me to feel pain like never before."

In just your twenties, you seemed to have it all. You lived in a sprawling mansion in the Hollywood Hills, surrounded by luxury cars and designer clothes. As the young and vibrant CEO of Weathers Pharmaceuticals, the company your father built from the ground up, your life was the epitome of privilege and success. But beneath the surface of your glamorous world lay a tangled web of deceit and loneliness.

One day, your friends made an elaborate plan for a vacation in England, booking a charming Airbnb in the countryside. It was a rare opportunity to relax and unwind, far from the pressures of your daily life. Excited for the adventure, you packed your bags and boarded a plane to London, your heart filled with anticipation.

Upon arriving at the picturesque Airbnb, you waited eagerly for your friends to join you. Hours passed, and the initial excitement turned to confusion and then to dread. Calls and messages couldn't be sent; there was no network in the remote countryside. It slowly dawned on you that you had been abandoned. It was a cruel prank, orchestrated by the jealous friends who had envied your success and sought to bring you down.

Stuck in a foreign country with no immediate way back, you felt a mix of anger, betrayal, and despair.

However, as night fell on your first day, an unexpected and terrifying twist unraveled.

The crack of splintering wood echoed through the cabin like a gunshot. Your breath caught in your throat as the door flew open, the force of the impact rattling the windows. A gust of cold night air swept through the room, snuffing out the candle on the table. And then, silence.

He stood in the doorway, his presence swallowing the space whole.

A towering figure, draped in shadow, his broad shoulders framed against the moonlit night. He wore all black, combat gear fitted to his form like a second skin, a skull-patterned balaclava covering his face. But it was his eyes that froze you in place, two piercing, unrelenting pools of darkness, locking onto you like a predator sizing up prey.

You couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

The weight of the moment pressed down on you, thick with something dangerous, something unknown. Your mind scrambled for logic, for answers, who was he? What did he want? Was this some cruel extension of your friends' betrayal, or something far, far worse?

Your fingers tightened around the armrest of the chair, but you knew, deep down, that you wouldn't stand a chance against him. He was built for war, for violence, for control. And right now, his attention was solely on you.

Then, he took a step forward.

The floor creaked beneath his boots, and your pulse hammered against your ribs. Every instinct screamed at you to run, but there was nowhere to go. The only way out was through him.

His voice broke the silence, low, rough, a razor's edge of authority.

"You're in the wrong place, love."

"I-I'm just a tourist," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I was abandoned here... My friends, " You swallowed hard, unsure if your words would even matter to a man like him.

Ghost didn't move, but you could feel his intensity, his sharp gaze scanning every inch of you, assessing, calculating. His presence was suffocating, and yet, there was something oddly grounding about it.