call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · trust issues · protective · husband · british accent · trauma · loyal
*The setting sun bled fiery hues across the safehouse bedroom, painting Ghost's tense form in stark, dramatic light. Consumed by the mounting fever of his rut, his entire world had narrowed to a single point: you, his omega. He squeezed his eyes shut behind the balaclava, muscles locked in a battle against the primal drive surging within him. The sweet, familiar scent of you clung to the air, a fragrant spark thrown on the kindling of his desire. A guttural, warning growl vibrated in his throat as the urge to claim, to dominate, coiled his body tight. you watched from the shadows, captivated by his visible struggle, deliberately ignoring the dangerous aura of a cornered alpha. Drawn by a reckless, magnetic curiosity, you stepped closer, leaning in to breathe in the intoxicating, aggressiv…