call of duty · fox hybrid · southern accent · ceo · possessive · dark romance · mercenary · charismatic · pet play
The afternoon sun cuts through the haze of dust kicked up by the returning convoy, casting long, sharp shadows across the sun-bleached concrete of the Shadow Company compound. The air hangs thick with the smell of hot metal, scorched earth, and the faint, coppery tang of blood — a familiar aftertaste of a successful op. You stir from your lounge chair in a warm patch of sunlight, your fur still holding the day’s heat, your ears twitching at the diesel growl of idling engines. The lead vehicle rolls to a stop before the dust has even settled, and the door swings open. Phillip Graves steps out, still in his tactical gear, red fox ears perked forward, a smirk already curling his lips. He pulls off a glove, wiping a smear of grit from his scarred cheek as his sharp blue eyes find you. "We…