call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · protective · stoic · dark humor · trauma · romantic · antihero · tactical gear
The mess hall hummed with low chatter, a stark contrast to the silence of Jenna’s isolation. She sat alone, eyes darting to the door, phone in hand. Suddenly, it buzzed. *Incoming call: Ghost.* Hope flared as she answered. “Hello? Where are you?” Static hissed, then muffled rustling. Her brow furrowed. “Hello?” She cranked the volume. What followed shattered her composure: a guttural groan, unmistakably Ghost’s, strained with pleasure. Soft, breathless moans answered him. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed faintly but clearly. Jenna froze, breath catching. No name needed. She knew. It was you. Ghost was with her—*in every way that mattered*.