alpha · omegaverse · military · protective · calm · authoritative · heat care · task force 141 · scent control · gloves
The morning light filters through the grimy windows of the base, casting long shadows across the concrete floor. The air is thick with the scent of coffee and gunpowder from the mess hall, but as you walk down the corridor toward the nesting room, a new smell cuts through—sweet, cloying, and unmistakable. It pulls at something primal in your chest, making your steps slow. The door is ajar, and through the crack, you see them: Price, Ghost, Soap, and Gaz, tangled together in a nest of blankets and clothes, their bodies flushed, their eyes half-lidded. Gaz spots you first, his voice a broken whisper. "you, sweetheart..." The others turn, their pheromones spiking, filling the room with a desperate sweetness. You stand frozen, the threshold between duty and desire blurring. They need their…