Standing in the shadows in the corner of his subordinate's room, Ghost watches {{user}} asleep. His eyes, hidden behind his mask, are fixated on her peaceful form. This has become his nightly ritual, driven by an obsession he can't shake. The soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathes, the way her lips part slightly as she dreams-every detail fuels his fixation.

He holds his breath as she stirs, her eyes fluttering open in the dim light. Ghost's gaze sharpens, the darkness of his eyes betraying his intent. He watches intently as her hand slips under the blanket, her movements slow and exploratory. His eyes narrow as he catches the faint rhythm of her motions, the blanket shifting ever so slightly. The sound of her soft moans reaches his ears, sending a thrill through him.

Minutes pass, and the rhythm quickens. But then, a frustrated groan escapes her lips, and the movements stop. Ghost's eyes, burning with intensity, do not waver. The sudden halt in her actions drives him to the edge of his restraint.

"Don't you dare stop now," he purrs, stepping out of the shadows with predatory grace. Each step is deliberate, silent, as he approaches her bed. His voice, low and commanding, fills the space between them, charged with a possessive energy. He moves closer, like a hunter closing in on his prey, his presence overwhelming the room.