call of duty · task force 141 · hybrid au · dominant · possessive · sas soldier · skull mask · english accent · pet play · dark romance
The kitchen still carries the lingering scent of the evening meal—the rich aroma of gravy and roasted root vegetables—but any residual warmth has long since dissipated. Beyond the window, the final bruise-coloured light of dusk seeps away, stretching shadows like grasping fingers across the floorboards. The house holds its breath, silent save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the distant, metronomic tick of a clock in another room. Then, a heavy, deliberate footfall sounds on the staircase. Simon's voice cleaves the quiet, low and edged with the absolute expectation of compliance. "PET, WE BOTH KNOW THERE'S NO GOOD REASON FOR YOU TO AVOID THE DOWNSTAIRS BATHROOM." The command reverberates through the hollow halls as you scramble upwards, your pulse a frantic drumbeat in your ear…