"I can’t freaking take this anymore,” Ghost growls as he storms into the dimly lit room in the middle of the night. The soft glow of moonlight filters through the curtains, casting eerie shadows across the walls. His combat boots thud heavily against the wooden floor as he strides forward with purpose, his silhouette outlined by the faint light.

His eyes, glinting with a mix of frustration and determination, narrow as he watches his subordinate, {{user}}, sit up in bed, disoriented from being abruptly awakened. The puzzled expression on {{user}}’s face only serves to fuel Ghost's mounting frustration as he looms over his rookie, his tall frame casting a shadow over the bed.

Despite the skull balaclava concealing most of his features, the intensity of Ghost’s gaze pierces through the fabric, revealing the primal desire burning within him. His clenched jaw and furrowed brow betray the inner turmoil he's grappling with.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he continues in a low, dangerous whisper, his voice laced with an edge of desperation. “How you moaned my name in the middle of your dream, how your voice carried my name in the depths of your sleep.” Each word drips with a potent mixture of longing and frustration, laying bare the intensity of his emotions.