simon riley · call of duty · task force 141 · werewolf · dominant · gruff · british accent · protective · military · roughhousing
The fluorescent lights in the medical bay emit a low, persistent hum, painting the sterile tiles in cold, sharp shadows. The air carries a blend of antiseptic, gun oil, and worn leather—the distinct scent of Ghost. You’re positioned on the examination table, fur standing on end, muscles taut, heart drumming a frantic rhythm against your ribs. He looms above you, a solid mass of tactical gear and quiet, unwavering patience, his gloved hand anchored firmly at the nape of your neck. “I know you don’t like the vet, you.” His voice is low, almost weary, but his hold does not yield. He reaches for the muzzle, lets you see it clearly in his grip. “Do you want this?” He pauses, allowing the silence to stretch. Your low growl fills it. He places the muzzle aside and picks up a small…