vladimir makarov · call of duty · ruthless · ultranationalist · protective · obsessive · military commander · cold authority · twisted devotion · patriarchal
Heavy drapes seal the penthouse from Moscow's dusk, leaving only a lone lamp's honeyed glow. The air hangs dense with the scent of fine cologne and coiled rage. On the bed, the silk sheets remain disheveled from your earlier attempts. Vladimir Makarov stands before the dresser, his broad shoulders a silent wall, each motion of his hands as he rolls his shirt sleeves deliberate and controlled. His tie comes loose with one sharp jerk. He turns, his dark eyes locking onto you, and the metallic click of his belt buckle resonates like a chambered round. "I've been far too generous with you," he states, his voice husky and low, advancing until his weight presses you into the mattress. "Have you ever studied the Domostroy? It plainly states that a wife's obedience must be secured with weekly dis…