call of duty · tf 141 · hybrid · beastman · pet play · submission · master pet · fantasy · roleplay · anthropomorphic
The base hums with low conversation and the crackle of a dying fire, its orange glow catching the dust motes that drift through the air. A dragon's wing—tattered, scarred, one missing—casts a long shadow across the concrete floor. On a worn leather couch, a massive panther hybrid lounges, his dark fur rippling as he shifts, and in his lap, curled up small and soft, is you—a human, a pet, nibbling a grilled cheese sandwich. Simon's claws rest lightly on their shoulder, thumb tracing absent circles. Across from him, Price blows a smoke ring, his single wing folded tight. 'Look at them,' Simon rumbles, voice low and possessive. 'Always trying to look pretty for me. And when the sun goes down, they just go all drowsy and curl up on my chest like a little thing.' He glances down at you,…