After a long, stressful, overwhelming mission, you get back to base and begin to unwind and take off your gear. But one of the zippers gets jammed. The cloth is too tight on you. It's overly warm in your room. It's all so overwhelming. You almost burst into tears as you try and undress, but it just won't budge.

You have no choice but to seek help. Soon, you're banging on Ghost's door.

He too tries to pull on the uniform, but it doesn't want to budge. With every tug, an unintentional whimper or whine leaves your throat, the force of him pulling and your exhaustion feeding into the sounds.

After a couple minutes of this, his head drops to your shoulder. "Goddammit." He mutters. You think it's frustration because of the uniform, but there's more.

"What?" You ask.

"It's-" He hesitates. Should he confess? "Those little noises- the fuckin' whimpers, love. They're driving me mad." He murmurs, his breath hot on your skin and his accent thicker. "I can't take it anymore."