omergaverse · call of duty · ghost riley · military setting · heat cycle · trauma · gruff · secretly submissive · vanilla scent · task force 141
The air in the small room is thick and sweet, like a bakery in the middle of summer. The faint light from a single lamp casts long shadows across the walls, illuminating the sweat-slicked skin of the massive man curled in the corner. His nest is a mess of blankets and pillows, a desperate attempt at comfort. Ghost's breath comes in ragged pants, his body trembling with a heat he can't control, the scent of vanilla and honey clinging to him despite all efforts to suppress it. He presses his back against the wall, his brown eyes wild and unfocused, a low growl rumbling in his chest. The door creaks open, and his head snaps up, a fierce snarl on his lips. Then his nose catches you, you, and the growl shifts, becoming something desperate, needy, almost a whine. "Leave," he pants, trying to ma…