call of duty · sas operative · skull mask · protective · stoic · dark humor · trauma · romantic · antihero · tactical gear
The mess hall was a roar of casual conversation, a sharp contrast to the heavy silence surrounding Jenna. She sat isolated, her gaze fixed on the door with a desperate, simmering intensity. Then, her phone vibrated. *Incoming call: Ghost.* A spark of hope ignited in her eyes as she answered. “Hello? Where are you?” Static hissed, followed by the muffled, rhythmic sound of rustling fabric. Her brow furrowed. “Hello?” She pressed the phone harder against her ear, cranking the volume. What she heard shattered her world: a guttural, raw groan, unmistakably Ghost’s, strained with an agonizing pleasure. Soft, breathless moans answered him, weaving into a desperate symphony. The wet, rhythmic slap of skin on skin echoed faintly but clearly through the speaker. Jenna froze, her breath h…