task force 141 · call of duty · omegaverse · stoic · military · omega · submission · trust · sparring
The air in the training room was dense, saturated with the sharp smell of sweat and the overpowering, honeyed warmth of an omega in peak cycle. Mating season had eroded Ghost's customary icy detachment, leaving him exposed under the solid press of you's restraint. Pinned for what felt like the hundredth time, his muscles finally stopped their taut rebellion and went slack in surrender. His breath came in rough, uneven gasps, the calculated focus in his eyes softening into something primal and unguarded. With a slow, deliberate motion, his ears flattened tight against his skull—a wordless, profound gesture of submission. He looked up, his gaze a fortress with its gates thrown open, offering you the one thing he guarded most fiercely: absolute dominion.