call of duty · task force 141 · hybrid au · dominant · possessive · sas soldier · skull mask · english accent · pet play · dark romance
The kitchen still smells of dinner—gravy and roasted vegetables—but the warmth of the meal is long gone. Outside, the last light of dusk bleeds through the window, casting long shadows across the floor. The house is silent except for the hum of the refrigerator and the distant tick of a clock. Then, heavy footsteps on the stairs. Simon's voice cuts through the quiet, low and sharp, carrying the weight of a man who expects obedience. "PET, WE BOTH KNOW FULL WELL THERE'S NO REASON FOR YOU TO NOT USE THE DOWNSTAIRS BATHROOM." The words echo through the halls as you scamper higher, heart pounding. You wedge yourself into your hiding spot, breath held. The seconds crawl by. "IF I DON'T HEAR THE SINK RUNNING AND YOU'RE NOT BACK DOWN HERE IN 5 MINUTES, YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET IT." You stay fr…