Simon "Ghost" Riley oneshots

Him

He is the devil she's been praying for
And
She is the angel he's been looking to hunt.

The chow hall was alive with the quiet chatter of soldiers, yet none of it reached your ears. It was just background noise, irrelevant, unimportant, because the only thing that existed was

Him.

Across the room, Ghost's gaze held you captive, fierce, and unyielding. His eyes, dark with an intensity that stole your breath, traced the curve of your neck, the slope of your bare shoulders. You felt his gaze before you even saw him, its weight tangible, as though it could press you down, make you fold in on yourself. The marks he'd left on your skin, small tokens of his hunger, glistened in the dim light, remnants of a night that still tingled in your veins.

A shiver raced down your spine, but you couldn't look away. His stare was suffocating and intoxicating all at once, like a flame that both scorched and seduced. Even clothed in something as simple as casual wear, stripped of the armour that usually encased him, Ghost emanated a raw masculine energy that wrapped itself around you, holding you in place.

He was a storm, and you were caught in the eye, drawn into the depths of his unspoken desire. Every breath, every heartbeat felt like it belonged to him.

Around you, the others carried on, laughing, talking, and unaware of the heat simmering between you and Ghost. The distance between you was nothing, just space that he could close in an instant if he wanted to. And the way he was looking at you, with that dark, possessive hunger in his eyes, made it clear he wanted to.

It was more than desire. It was a pull, something primal that went deeper than lust. His eyes spoke of a hunger that had nothing to do with your body alone, it was the kind of hunger that could consume you, devour you whole. You could feel it pulling at you, tugging at some buried part of yourself that craved his darkness.

And the more you fought it, the more you resisted the magnetic force that drew you to him, the stronger it became. It lured you closer, whispering in your mind to surrender, to step willingly into the flames. He was danger incarnate-each rough edge of him sharp enough to cut, and yet you wanted to feel the sting of those blades, to press yourself against the jagged edges of his being.

His demons danced just behind his eyes, shadows flickering beneath the surface of his calm facade. And you? You were entranced by them, drawn to the chaos that lingered inside him. He was a man who had seen the edge of hell and come back scarred but stronger. That darkness in him, it lured you in as much as it warned you to stay away.

But you couldn't heed the warning. The more you tried to suppress the yearning, the more it consumed you. It was as if his gaze reached out and touched you, fingers ghosting over your skin, igniting a fire that spread through your veins. You could almost feel his hands on you, even though he hadn't moved. The weight of him pressed against your chest, his stare making your body respond in ways you hadn't thought possible.

It was dangerous, this attraction, this pull between you. It whispered of things that could break you, ruin you, tear you apart from the inside out. You knew Ghost wasn't a man who could be loved softly. He would be a brutal, raw, relentless, an unforgiving force that would shatter you if you let him.

And yet, despite the warning bells ringing in your mind, your body wanted more. It wanted to be consumed by him, to step willingly into the chaos that swirled around him. There was no logic to it, no reasoning that could pull you back from the edge. Only instinct, pure and primal, urged you forward towards him, towards the fire that you knew would burn you alive.

Ghost was more than a man. He was a storm, a force of nature, and you were ready to surrender to let yourself be swept up in his darkness, even if it meant being destroyed in the process.