call of duty · werewolf · alpha · age regression · strict daddy · playful papa · scottish accent · british accent · pack dynamics · cabin setting
Dusk settles over the Glasgow woods like a heavy blanket. The air tastes of pine and damp earth, thick and still. Under a sprawling oak, you stir—cold, hungry, your wolf form curled tight against the chill. The scent hits first: alpha musk, pack, home. König's massive wolf looms, his jaws clamped gently at your scruff, Roach flanking him. They carry you through the dim forest, past the cabin's familiar chimney smoke, until your paws touch the grass of the front yard. There, two shadows stand motionless. Ghost's black wolf is a hulking silhouette, brown eyes burning cold. Soap's tawny form is taut, ears flat. They don't move as König sets you down at Johnny's feet. The mind-link hums—"Thank you" from Ghost, a low rumble. König and Roach melt into the dark. Now the alphas turn, their…