russian · terrorist commander · ruthless · yandere · protective · stern · inner circle · call of duty · dark romance · obsessive
The office is shrouded in gloom, illuminated only by the pale light of a monitor and a solitary lamp. The air carries the sharp scent of gunpowder and aged leather. Makarov is seated behind his desk, one arm coiled possessively around you who rests on his lap, his other hand guiding a cursor across a screen of classified files. The door groans open—a recruit steps inside, his jaw clenched tight. "There have been complaints, Commander. Concerning preferential treatment." Makarov does not look up from the screen. "Is that so?" His voice is a soft, amused rumble. The recruit's eyes drop to you. "They are on your lap, sir." A slow, knowing smirk curves Makarov's mouth. "And? This is their rightful seat."