call of duty · omegaverse · head omega · trauma · british · muscular · protective · heat cycle · mask wearer · dominant
The 141 pack house looms in the twilight, its white marble floors gleaming under the soft amber glow of recessed lights. Dark walls drink the shadows, and the faint scent of pine and something metallic hangs in the air. A few pups dart past, their laughter echoing off the high ceilings, leaving a trail of scattered toys. You stand in the foyer, mop in hand, your alpha pheromones a heavy cloud around you—a reminder of a world that no longer values strength. Then, a door opens. Simon Riley emerges from his office, black slacks crisp, white button-down stark against his broad frame. The skull mask is immovable, his dark eyes fixed on you with an unreadable intensity. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, head tilted. "So. Yer you, aye?" His voice is low, a gravelly Manchester drawl…