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blingblong55 · 5 months

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This love - Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

Oh, as a request idea what would be about Makarov and wife! reader for whom he'd burn the world and she got injured during a fight with an opposing tean having him go rampant at everyone until he holds her again? With a fluffy ending mayhaps?

(also I absolutely loved The Great War 💕) --- F!Reader, fluff, established!relationship, in love with the villain, wife!reader, husband!Makarov, protective!husband --- A/N: I always said, Makarov embodies 'I'll burn the world for you, for what they did to you.' I will never back down from that. Also, I'm glad you liked The Great War :)

Red. That is all he saw, how dare they hurt his wife! No one and he means no one can ever in their fucking miserable lives touch you, never and that is a threat. He hated them, for all they are worth, Kasper Team is a dead organisation. Did he need their blood? Yes, his wife, his darling wife got hurt and oh will they pay for what they did. You walk into the room, his gaze softens, his fist opens and he smiles. How can the world be so cruel to him? Making him the evil man and then giving him a pretty lady like you and making him turn into the softest of men.

"My love," he speaks to you, nods the man off so he can be alone with you and opens his arms. "Don't hurt them," you speak and he looks at you, cupping your face and shaking his head. "I must. No one can touch you, sometimes I feel as if I don't deserve the privilege of touching you. You are an angel maybe a little bit of a devil but you…oh, you are my angel and no one should touch or hurt you," his lips meet your forehead. This is always the same discussion, he is so cruel, so evil, so vile primarily if you were hurt. And you always found yourself not wanting him to stop, it is a dangerous form of devotion that you two have. Something neither of you want to stop, to never lose. For you, he would tear the world apart, he would hold you in his warm arms as you two watch with glee as the world falls apart.

For you, he would drench himself in blood, only to have you kiss him, wipe the blood off and still see him as the man of your fantasies. Call it wicked call it anything you please, but his love, oh his loving heart is dangerous and fun. It is the kind of love no man should play with. Not even the evil of monsters dared to touch that dark corner but you did and that evolved into something so beautifully treacherous. He'll tell you anything if you only ask it of him. It's trust, truthfulness, devotion, lust, poison and an anecdote found between lips, warm hugs, sex, and all else those eyes of yours and his fail to say when they look at the other.

To him, having you was brighter than the sun in that blue sky. Your caress was a warm blanket on a snowy day. A room full of bloodthirsty soldiers could go silent when you walked in and into his arms. No one dared question you, never and he would make sure of that. Your kiss, possessing him, taking control of his soul and making it your slave. His heart, that long has been proven to belong to you, to have your name carved in it the second he was born. Stars aligned or not, he was yours, your fool, soldier, lover and friend. He is the darkness, the one you found comfort in.

He cares for you. That's why, he sent his men to hunt down all those responsible for your injury. "Come here, let me hold you," he walks to his chair, sitting down and making you sit on his lap. His arms held you close to him like he needed to have his skin and yours mixed together. It's perfect, you're perfect. He looks at the plans for how he will end that organisation and then smiles, kisses your neck and hums as he nuzzles his face to your body. He isn't like anyone, for if he was, Shakespeare would have done a play about him and it would be that in this case, the villain wins. You drink your poison for him and he does the same for you. Never one without the other. He made sure of that.

They say, that what feeds wars is hate, for him, this new war is revenge. You turn to him, wondering what is going on in his head. And as if he was listening to your thoughts he smiles, "You. I'm thinking of you, how lucky I am…how lucky I got to have a wonderful soul, my wife, my lovely R/N to love me back." His thumb touches your bottom lip. He was in a trance, one you knew well. In his mind, Vladimir always thought of when he met you, how he fell in love with you and how his cold heart started to get warm again. Your eyes, oh that sweet stare that made him into the poem reader he has become. So, when he looks deep into your eyes, he cups your face with both of his hands and begins to recite a poem for you.

O my Luve is like a red, red rose That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve is like the melody That’s sweetly played in tune.

So fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a’ the seas gang dry.

Till a’ the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi’ the sun; I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands o’ life shall run.

And fare thee weel, my only luve! And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my luve, Though it were ten thousand mile. (A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns)

Your eyes are teary and beautiful. "Don't doubt for a second I will hesitate to hurt the man who hurt you," he whispers and kisses you once more. Like a precious cascade, his love pours into your lips. No one knew but behind closed doors, in safe arms and on a reading nook, he held you close, a book in his hands as he read to you poems or stories. Your hands by his thighs as the autumn skies cast your shadows. Love, yeah….this is perfect, this love is the embodiment of calm love.

A/N: so...now in my head, it's canon this man reads poetry

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@goldenmclaren @alhaizen @thefragmented @liyanahelena @queen-ilmaree @kaska127 @arialikestea @aethelwyneleigh27 @selarus @cdej6 @imasimpsowhat06 @thefictionalgemini @baldwinhearts @lemonnoodles

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diejager · 4 months

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if you don't mind can i ask for your take on civilian s/o and yandere makarov? i wonder how he behave around an s/o who's like the opposite of him (like they're kind, gentle and has not known violence ever). hcs or short scenario or anything depends on you i don't mind (there's a drought of makarov content tbh 😮‍💨).

thanks for considering this and please take your time. have a good day 😚.

”Love” Cw: manipulation, obsessive behaviour, delusions of love, humain training, forceful taking, verbal abuse, tell me if I missed any.

Makarov doesn’t love. He knew how to, but he never truly did. He couldn’t with the heart and mind he grew up cultivating, to build his empire and strength, dwindling his heart’s empathy. Ironically, such ignorance towards love only increased his obsession, the amount of it that would only climb higher and higher, because in a sense, the loss of such emotions lead to a loss of a limit, driving him to insane lengths to achieve what he had his mind on.

He only knew death and bloodshed, the destruction of the mundane and corruption of the innocent, being the source of the rot and decay in the cells of a flower, to make it wilt and dust. Perhaps that’s where his interest in the normal stemmed, that curiosity that would someday bloom into obsession. He searched for an object of obsession, something - someone - to put all this attention on, something tangible, solid under his hands and malleable to his intentions. Despite his lack of time to dawdle, to spend on meaningless affairs, he found the perfect subject, someone so starkly different from him and his world.

There was a dichotomy in Makarov’s world, the harshness of war, battle and conquering of countries, and the deceptive softness in his eyes, the gentle touch of his scarred and calloused hands, and the coo with his sly tongue. You were the only softness in his life, a civilian he -one day - decided to pick up from the streets, bright-eyed and innocent to the horror he saw and spear-headed. Your tired eyes untouched by his mind and your scarless body free of any conflict that he could start with a simple wave of his hand.

There’s a need in his mind to see this innocence wilt away, to pry your mind of any autonomy and freedom you’ve lived with. Makarov wanted a doll, something soft and precious he could corrupt with words and ruin with his hands, deceptively gentle and loving, a poem spilling from a cruel smirk and eyes gleaming darkly. He has his ways to turn you into a thing of his imagination, to make you into his willing Russian doll, layer over layer of maliciousness and subservience.

He’s a man of culture, letting the people under him do all the dirty work. Despite all the viciousness and madness in his being, he doesn’t hit, he doesn’t abuse the object of his obsession, that was reserved for men lower than him, poor and mindless men. Rather, he preferred manipulation, well-thought words used in right situation to have you crawling back to him for safety, protection and comfort. He wanted you to come to him on your own, to make your pliant and uncaring of the wider view. He, after all, took you for himself, to endure himself in a second source of power.

Makarov has a silver tongue, whispering words into your ears that take root, your doubts and fears growing in the depth of your heart, bringing you closer to the man who promised to protect you. His fingers wiping away your tearful cheeks, pearly gems rolling down your cheek as he teases you about being worried. You shouldn’t be so fearful with him beside you, he’s your warden, your all-powerful and dependable lover.

He won’t let a shred of suspicion towards him fester, it’ll be dealt with swiftly with the call of your name, breaking down your vulnerable mind and building it back up in his image, his opinions were yours, his thoughts were yours, his goals were yours. So much so that you were his, knowing fundamentally that whatever he said goes.

”мой маленький цветок,” he mumbled, pressing his lips against yours, hands soft but wandering, laying down chains over your waist, around your dainty wrists and tightening the collar around your neck, keeping the hold on your mind, “You did so well, I’m proud of you.”

Positive reinforcement. He often used positive reinforcement to deepen his hold, to sink his teeth into your clean soul. Sweetened words with a voice he taught you to crave and possessive touches of bloody hands with intentions that he blinded you of, finding a way to make you want them.

“What do you say?” His hand traveled up your jaw, featherlight fingers cradling your ear and cheek until it stopped under your chin, tilting your head to look at his narrowed eyes, proud and dark.

“Thank you, Vladimir.”

He smiled, a thin-lipped grin.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #mw3 makarov #cod makarov #call of duty makarov #makarov #vladimir makarov #vladimir makarov x reader #makarov x reader #makarov x you #vladimir makarov cod #vladimir makarov x you #dark fic #tw: manipulation #tw: abuse #dead dove do not eat

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ateliersss · 6 months

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Where Do You Think You're Going?

Pairing: Vladimir Makarov x Fem!Reader Summary: You try to leave him... Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Abusive and Toxic Behavior, English isn't my first language Word Count: 2.283

"And where exactly do you think you're going, moya dorogaya?" He asked, in that terrifying calm, cold voice you've become so familiar with.

The voice that now sent a shiver down your spine and instilled a sense of dread deep in your gut used to make you feel at the top of the world.

You and Makarov had been a couple for almost five years now, but recently he had become dangerously possessive and overprotective, making you almost suffocate in the invisible grip he had you in.

You bit down on your lower lip, but you didn't stop grabbing your clothes from the closet of your shared bedroom to throw them into your suitcase lying on the king-size bed.

"Away." You simply answered him.

Makarov's demeanor shifted instantly, from indifferent and collected to a cold but calm fury.

He chuckled in that unforgiving tone of his. "And where are you off to?"

He leaned against the door frame of your bedroom, tall and imposing, blocking your way to escape the room should you zip up your suitcase and grab it to leave.

"Anywhere. Primarily away from you." You answered curtly and walked over to your vanity table to collect your perfumes, cremes and lotions.

"And why would you want to get away from me?" Makarov asked as he watched you pack your stuff into the small toiletry bag, your back turned to him.

You ignored him.

His grimace turned into a sinister snarl at your lack of an answer before he pushed himself away from the door frame and moved towards you, towering over you, making his presence felt in a very deliberate and intimidating manner.

He wrapped his arms around your middle section from behind and pressed his torso to your back, leaning down for his lips to reach your ear.

"Don’t you love me? You do love me, don’t you?” He asked, his tone low.

Your movements came to a halt, your head slowly looking up to see both of your reflections in the mirror of the vanity.

Although his head was turned down for his mouth to reach your ear, his eyes pierced yours in the mirror. They looked menacing and warningly at you. It sent shivers down your spine and forced you to look away.

"Of course I love you... but I just can't do this anymore." You said, your throat dryer than the Sahara desert.

"Why?" Makarov questioned softly, his lips mere millimeters away from your ear.

His arms around you, hugging your stomach, tightened in a painful way, which knocked air out of your lungs. His breath tickled the edge of your neck.

"Do you not enjoy being pampered and spoiled with big gifts and expensive things? Do you not enjoy being treated like a princess? Like a queen?"

That was his usual way of manipulation when he noticed even the slightest form of resistance coming from you; guilt tripping and gaslighting.

As he watched your reflection in the mirror, he took in how vulnerable and small you appeared, which gave him a sense of resurance.

"Did you not like it when we went shopping and you spend my money on nice, pretty things? Or when I took you to those lavish parties and showed you off to those disgusting, perverted associates of mine who lusted after you and gave you their undevided attention? Or when I made love to you for hours anywhere, any time?"

When you wouldn't reply again, one of his hands shoot up to grab your chin and push it up surprisingly soft so your eyes would meet in the mirror.

"Answer me."

You let out a sigh and looked defiantly at his reflection. "Of course I love it, but that's not the point."

You had a hard time to speak since his arm, which was still wrapped around your middle, exerted a tight pressure on your belly and made it hard for you to breathe properly.

"I'm thankful for everything you do for me. I enjoy the expensive things, the vacations, the way you finance my hobbies, but... but that's not the reason I fell in love with you."

"Hm, enlighten me then." Makarov replied, his arm easing their tight hold on your stomach, allowing you to breathe easier again.

"What exactly was the reason?"

"I fell in love with you because you were you. You treated me like no man before, even though with your reputation. You are different around me, not much but enough to make me feel special."

You shook you head with a sigh.

"But why do you have to lock me into a golden cage like a bird?"

Makarov chuckled like you were a stupid little child who still didn't understand a simple thing although he had explained it a dozen times already.

"I do this because I want you all to myself, moya dorogaya." He whispered into your ear, his words erupting a warm tingle in your belly.

He stroked your hair out of your face.

"I also do this to protect you from danger." He added, his voice soothing. "I don't want the world to snatch the only thing that brings me joy."

Makarov planted a kiss on your temple which almost made you melt.

"The world can be a dangerous place for a beautiful, delicate flower like you."

"I can take care of myself, Vladimir. You know that." You scoffed.

"I don't doubt that. You are smart and gorgeous and determined, but you're also naive, moya dorogaya. You have no idea what my enemies would do to you if they knew that you existed and where you were."

Nothing, but the harsh truth in Makarov's words.

"So, I think I know better what's good for you than you do."

He kissed you again, this time on your cheek, which made it harder for you to remain stern as the familiar sensation of his lips on your skin were so distracting.

His fingers left your chin and slowly traced down your arm, leaving light goosebumps on your skin.

"Who knows what will happen if I ever let you go out alone."

Another way of manipulating you; scaring you with the harsh consequences that come with being with such a dangerous man like Makarov while also soothing you with sweet words and gentle caresses.

But you didn't plan to give in.

"You could accompany me, or send one or two of your best men with me. I can't stay in this house any longer, Vladimir. It's either that..."

A deep breath, your eyes glancing to the suitcase on your bed in the mirror.

"Or I'll leave you for good."

The corners of his lips curled up into a cruel smile.

Before you could even blink an eye, he had his hand wrapped around your thoat, blocking you air ways.

With panic widdened eyes, you reached up to grab his wrist and dig your manicured nails into his skin, which didn't make Makarov falter for a second.

"No other man will ever be able to make you as happy or as fulfilled as I do. All the gifts I gave you, all the diamonds and pearls I put on your pretty fingers and deliacte neck, all the dresses and shoes I bought you, all the vacations I took you on, and all the sweet words I speak to you and you threaten to leave me…"

He laughed in that arrogant and self-assured way that made your skin crawl while his cold eyes never left yours.

"If you ever decided to leave me, moya dorogaya, I would hunt you down and make you regret the day that you were born."

You wanted to reply, wanted to plead with him to let you go so you could breathe again, wanted to say anything at all, but the only sound that left your mouth was a high-pitched groan.

You quickly grew lightheaded, the corners of your view starting to blur and darken.

Makarov's smile widened as he watched the losing focus of your eyes.

He took a sadistic joy in controlling the situation, took a sadistic joy in the fact that he was in charge, took a sadistic joy in the fact that he was terrifying you.

He wanted you to feel the consequences of standing up to him.

But there was also a part of him that was only reserved for you, his darling, which made him loosen his grip, allowing you to breathe again. In an instant, you eagerly took big gulps of air into your lungs.

"I've treated you with nothing but love and respect, moya dorogaya. I would expect the same in return."

When enough oxygen returned to your brain, you looked at his reflection. Although you wouldn't admit it, you were thankful that he was standing behind you, holding you up, because you doubt your legs were stable enough to hold your whole weight on their own.

"My love for you is unconditional. There's nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you, you know that." He continued.

With his hand still on your throat, his long pale fingers still wrapped around it, he pulled your body flush against his. He pressed the side of his head against yours so he could whisper into your ear.

"But..." He started, "I expect the same level of commitment and devotion in return."

Still keeping his gaze locked on your shared reflection in the mirror, he placed a soft kiss on your ear shell.

"I want you to remember that every time you consider disobeying me, moya dorogaya... every time you even think about leaving this house just for a second..."

His gripped around your throat tightens again.

"Or even considering leaving me..."

He inhaled deeply the rose scent of your shampoo, the sweet aroma of your perfume, before he chuckled as his lips brushed against your ear again.

"It won't happen with you being alive."

You could feel it deep inside you, your heart cracking.

Who was this man?

Because you certainly didn't recognize the Vladimir who had looked at you in annoyance but also slight amusement when you had tripped over nothing and had spilled his drink into his lap.

You didn't recognize the Vladimir who would have had punished any other person that wasn't you for ruining his suit, but instead had asked for your name and what your favorite drink was.

You didn't recognize the Vladimir who had send the strange men sitting with him away with one simple wave of his hand just so he could talk to you throughout the rest of the night although you were still working.

You didn't recognize the Vladimir who had visited the bar you were working at more frequently after that.

(You had never questioned, never even thought about it, why your boss never had said anything when you stopped working just so you could talk to and drink with this handsome man.)

You didn't recognize the Vladmir who had sent dozen of roses to your small and shabby apartment. Although you had been creeped out that he knew where you had lived and that he had broken in so easily, the emotion you had felt at such a pricey and romantic gesture had been bigger.

Where was that Vladimir?

It was as if you had fallen deeply in love with a completely different version of Vladimir Makarov, one that didn't exist anymore.

Or had never existed in the first place.

The man you had fallen in love with was caring, sweet, affectionate and respectful.

But there was no trace of these positive characteristics in the Vladimir Makarov standing right behind you, with his hand around your neck and his thumb pressing on your pulse point.

"You understand me, moya dorogaya?"

With tears prickling in your eyes, you nodded.

There's a tinge of regret in his voice as he replied, "Good girl."

Even though he was a man of violence and terror, he didn't enjoy to seriously harm the only person on this planet that brought him happiness.

But to keep you forever, he had to do certain things even though he didn't like it. If scaring you into submission was the only way of keeping you for himself, he wouldn't hesitate.

He squeezed your throat one last time as a warning, before he harshly let go of you.

The force of him letting you go yanked you forward. You couldn't catch yourself with your hands in time, resulting in your upper body crashing against your vanity and your forehead smashing against the mirror.

You cried out in pain.

The sound of distress tugged painfully on his heart strings, but Makarov fought against the urge to check on you or even apologize.

When he noticed your hands reaching up to brace themselves on the surface of the vanity table to hoist your body up, he was by your side in a milisecond.

His thighs pressed against the back of yours, his crotch against the swell of your ass. One of his hands gripped your waist to push your hips painfully against the edge of the table, probably bruising your soft skin. His other hand gripped the back of your neck and pinned you down.

"Never ever even utter a word of leaving me again. Okay, moya dorogaya?"

Then, with one last harsh push to underline his words, he let go of you, his jacket swirling as he spun around to leave the bedroom.

He didn't even turn back to look at you one last time, despite you crying out in pain and tears running down your cheeks, and slammed the door shut.

Your sobs penetrated the closed door and followed him down the hall.

#vladimir makarov #vladimir makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x you #modern warfare #call of duty

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saturncodedstarlette · 8 months

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Y/N : If I betray you, I betray myself. ..

Y/N : If I betray Price, I betray my country.

Y/N : My country is very dear to me——

Makarov : Dearer than I?

Y/N : No… no. Not dearer than you.

#Cod #Call of duty #Call of duty x reader #Call of dyty incorrect quotes #Cod Makarov #Vladimir Makarov #Cod Makarov x reader #Cod Makarov x male reader #Cod Makarov x female reader #Cod Makarov x gn reader #Vladimir Makarov x reader #Vladimir Makarov x you #Original : Dangerously Yours | Ep. Masquerade #My 2023 works

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nwheregirl · 4 months

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Not Keanu or Mads related but, Vladimir Makarov from COD is my man. THE TATTOOS? THE ACCENT? THE STARE?

(every pic is not mine, tiktok/internet finds)

#vladimir makarov #cod #cod mw3 #cod men #vladimir makarov cod #vladimir makarov x you #vladimir makarov x reader #vladimir makarov smut #cod mwiii

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littlemissclandestine · 22 days

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Please please please, I wanna know how adler and makarov will comfort us, like hcs, I mean, please? I want sweet thing because am very sad

Howdy Anon! 🤠

Thank you so much for the ask! Sorry to hear you're not feeling great and hope you feel better soon. Wasn't sure whether you wanted platonic or romantic or whatnot so I just thought of a mix (kinda) i guess. Sending hugs and hope you enjoy! <33

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---------------Russell Adler Comfort Hcs-----------------

So as you know, Adler isn't the type of guy to get all emotional (Feelings? What are feelings?) but there's no doubt he'd try to be there for you as best he can

He sometimes does stay silent. Mostly because he's just trying to figure out what to say and how to say it but it doesn't take too long for him to come up with something

He's a great listener for sure. You can rant to him about anything and he'll make you feel heard. Hell, he could probably even relate to it.

Phone calls to check up on you are a given -> "Right. I'm coming over. Promise me you won't do anything stupid in the meantime? Be there within the hour, okay?"

You might find yourself crying on the couch and he'd sit beside you. He'd probably place a hand on your thigh and give it a light squeeze as he asks you what's wrong

If you refuse to answer, he'll play some slow songs and pull you up and off the couch and into his arms to slow dance because he knows it'll earn a smile from you. He'll brush a stray piece of hair out the way and look into your eyes, telling you he loves you.

If you're really having a meltdown and you're in a right state, he'll pull you into his body, resting his chin on top of your head as he whispers words of encouragement to you, not caring that his favourite shirt is drenched. -> "That's it, just let it out. You're gonna be okay. I'm here, alright? Shhh. I'm not going anywhere."

If you're in public having a panic attack, he'd notice the signs. The way your watery eyes dart all over the place being hypervigilant of your surroundings, the way you cling to him a little more than usual, how you aren't responding to him, how your breathing is quick and you feel all clammy. It's his job to know.

He'd take you to the side and shield you as he talks you down. Maybe even take your hand and lead you to the public toilets, making sure it's clear to freshen up and have some space and privacy. -> "You ever heard of box breathing, kid?"

He'll take you back to his car for a long drive and offer you tissues and strike up a conversation, your favourite songs playing in the background while you steady your breathing

He'd hold your hands in his to ground you if need be and rub your arms and thighs as you sob violently, staying quiet, looking away and closing his eyes briefly as he hears you. He can't bare to see you like that.

Russell would also cup your face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs as he asks you to look at him and he calms you down with that low, husky voice of his. -> "You'll get through this, okay? Just like you always do. Only this time, you've got me. So let me take care of you."

He's one to always come up with solutions to your problems, no matter what it is

But he's also brutal. No sugarcoating.

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-------------Vladimir Makarov Comfort Hcs-------------

I feel like, whereas Adler has more of a way with words and is someone who also gives you comfort through touch, Makarov mostly uses a more materialistic approach but that's not to say he doesn't use touch.

He'd ask if you wanted to go out shopping (retail therapy) where he'd spoil you crazy, letting you buy whatever you want. A dress? Sure. A watch? Of course. A diamond necklace? You got it.

Mak would take you on a helicopter ride for sure during the day or even night, letting you take in the sights.

Makarov may offer to take you out for dinner to your favourite place, getting his goons to make the reservation (or threaten someone to give up their reservation and hold the poor receptionist at gunpoint so you can get a table right there and then).

But don't get me wrong...he'd defo watch your comfort movie with you again, no matter how many times you've watched it. You both just cuddling on the couch with a blanket as he plants kisses on your temple.

He'd crouch down in front of you, rubbing your knees as he asks you what's troubling you. -> "What's got you crying my beloved? What do you need from me?"

He's defo a hand holder so he'll rub your hands and draw circles on your palms and intertwine his fingers with yours. -> "It's okay, my love. Breathe. Just breathe."

This guy loves giving forehead kisses and you can't tell me otherwise. His kisses linger and he rests his forehead against yours for sure as he talks you down.

As you two sleep, he'd be the big spoon, wrapping his arms around your body, keeping you close while he whispers words of praise and how you don't have to worry as he'll always take care of you.

If it's someone who's causing you problems, Makarov goes pew pew and calls it a day.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *

Note: I was a bit biased when it came to Adler. Whoops. Hope that's okay for now. I might edit this post and add some more when I can. Defo doing a part 2 to Adler's comfort hcs. This was a nice little exercise though. Always a pleasure to write for COD men ;) - Star ☆

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lokidbadguy · 6 months

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still angry with him (should do me instead)

#lokisaidkneel #lokidbadguy #cod #cod mw3 #modern warfare 3 #call of duty #call of duty edit #cod makarov #vladimir makarov #makarov edit #vladimir makarov edit #julian kostov #vladimir makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x you #makarov x reader

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ghxst3m8 · 5 months

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Dangerously yours

Y/N: If I betray you, I betray myself... If I betray him, I betray my country. My country is very dear to me...

Makarov: Dearer than I?

Y/N: No….no. Not dearer than you.

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pricescancerstickk · 3 months

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Vladimir Makarov x Reader

(C.w mentions of death, tell me if I missed any, au different than the game.)

W.c : 1.0k

It was a shocker how you’d been those receiving gifts. The writing in russian had given it away, You’d think he was trying to hide the fact it was him but really, he seemed like he was toying with you. You knew he wasn’t the type of guy to write or send letters, Makarov preferred luring in his victims, but to you he was making it obvious it was him

He haunted you for so many years.

The way the screen cuts to the next scene just made you wonder. If he was dead or alive. But the one with a gift box and a note attached to it?

That note in russian. It was too much to bear. Makarov was alive and out to find out where you were and get his revenge against 141. But for you, this was a warning to be on your guard too. For you.

Makarov couldve been anywhere in the world. You thought to yourself. But how would you know? That bastard knew you. You were hiding-. If makarov finds what he wants. There is no stopping what he would do. He was a cruel bastard. And he probably would not only want revenge. That was in his nature the man had only known destruction his entire life, with a bleeding heart and hadn’t shown any guilt for the killing of bystanders

It brings you to his partner in crime almost, Ivan

ivan. A trained mercenary in the group of elite killers that Vladimir had. If you were captured by someone like him. Then you would most likely be dead within the day if not the hour. Ivan, the ultranationalist. The second most important man to makarov’s group. But even he hadn’t a clue where your location was. You had been in hiding for quite some time after 141 disbanded. But makarov had the ability to get you in some sort of way. Whether by his men, or himself. Ivan... He was makarovs partner in crime to a certain point. You had seen him before. But one that wasn’t as dangerous as makarov. It was ivan who got you, but makarov who is sending the notes and the warnings. Ivan, ivan can’t track you. He is just a soldier. But makarov? He is a leader. He probably knows where you are already..

That bastard would probably be coming after you himself now. You needed to keep hiding. If not that, then run. He probably knows more about you than you think. Makarov could be hiding in a forest and then he could pop up right behind you in an instant. You thought to yourself. But you know. You would never run. Even if it meant you could be dead.. You would not run.

You only remembered Vladimir to be the same guy who was selling carpets back then,,

a carpet seller. A carpet seller was the man who was the cause of everything...a simple carpet seller. Makarov a simple carpet seller. It sounded a bit foolish but at the same time you had been living in the arab world for most of your life, so it made sense that such a thing could happen. But makarov? He was supposed to be a good man, an honest good man who did not mean any wrong. But he had been wrong from the start. So wrong. It was all a front. Atleast that was where you had first met him. His little carpet shop. A man in the east world selling carpets. Nothing wrong with that. Was he an honest man though? Now you question those very words. Was he really? It was all a facade. A facade behind all the atrocities that he must’ve been doing. All the people that have suffered under his cruel reign. All the people he had sold weapons too. The soldiers that he had killed. That he himself was hiding away and making himself out to be a saint.

When really he was the devil in disguise, you were hiding in the dark corner of the warehouse. He had seen you. And you hadn’t known what had happened. You felt his gaze upon you. So you kept to that corner. Waiting for the opportunity to get out and away. But you never got that opportunity. The base was now in flames and 141 was no more. It had been the end of days for them. But it had also been the end of days for you in a way, you were a hunted girl. With no friends or anyone to turn too.

You had no one to turn to. It was that night he had you in the corner of the wall That night he had you in the corner. So many other things had happened. But the image of him was burnt into your mind. The memory of him seeing you had been seared into your brain. His stare. The cruel look in his eyes. The look of a predator, like a lion stalking its prey. And the prey had found itself cornered. The prey was you. The hunted. Hunted yet again. You had nothing against the Russian. Albeit, yes he was the enemy. He killed millions and was responsible for the lives of them, you didn’t have anything personal against him, but even if that was that, he still needed to get rid of.

Necessarily, he wasn’t planning on killing you, but then it really struck him when you were bold to try and infiltrate their base, but he had caught you that night.

Makarov was a vile man, the damage he caused was immense and it began with a carpet shop?

“убери от меня руки!” You begged , pleas falling on deaf ears as he made his way around to you. He was mocking you with how slow he was going, harsh nails digging into your wrists, slamming you down on the floor pinning you down, the harsh stare in his eyes burned through you, it was engraved into your mind. You wrists had turned red it ached like hell

“So my little whore knows Russian?”

Your knees began to tremble at the sound of his voice alone. That one sentence was enough to shake you to the core and cause any confidence you had left to be stripped away from you. You wanted to cry and shake in fear. But instead you froze. Your knees trembled. And you felt as though you had just walked into the belly of the beast, you despised him, you wished the nightmare would be over, he was responsible for the death of all your friends.

But he was still after you, you didn’t know why. You wouldn’t know. If it was put more into summary,

He thought of you more as a toy then a enemy.

#call of duty mw2 #cod mw2 #mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #cod modern warfare #mw2 call of duty #cod #Vladimir makarov #Vladimir makarov x you #Vladimir makarov x reader #cod makarov #mw2 x reader #mw2 Vladimir makarov #makarov x reader #mw3 makarov #call of duty makarov #makarov x you #ivan mw2

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blingblong55 · 5 months

Text

His pretty girl -Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

I looved ur makarov fic n im here to request smth else w him, there's barely anything w him its sad How would makarov treat his dear wife when she's sick? I'm kinda sick rn so.. : 3 ---- F!Reader, wife!reader, husband!Makarov, nothing but fluff ----

A/N: short but good…I hope…

Vladimir was gone for some weeks. He couldn't come in contact with you so when you didn't show up to greet him he was worried. The drive home was usually calm but this time, he rushed it. Avoided all cars and soon, ran inside. The image he saw before his eyes, oh did it melt him. You were curled on the couch. The blanket slowly falls off your body. Used tissues all over the coffee table and floor. The tea was cold and your soft breathing gave him even more reason to clean the area as quietly as possible. Your shared bedroom was cleaned, all dishes washed and then he carried you to bed. The medication you took to sleep was so strong you didn't know he even carried you to bed. That entire night, he checked your temperature, kissed your forehead and held you against his chest.

When you got sick, the first time, he panicked, called a doctor and yelled at him when he said that all you needed to do was drink tea and take it easy. Now, knowing his pretty little wife too well, he knows all he needs to do. 8 am, have breakfast ready, with tea on the side and orange juice just in case you want that one more and it must be room temperature, not cold. He must put on some video as you eat because you like to catch up on some show as you eat. You like wearing his shirts more because you swear it makes you feel better, which is bullshit because he knows you like to just have a reason to wear his clothes.

He must wash all dishes, not complain about being tired because how dare he. Makarov knows this well mainly because it worked the first 4 times and this time it is the same. After breakfast, washing dishes, he has to take you on a walk, the air, the way you smile, oh he knows the fresh air helps that stuff nose and he also gets even more private time with you.

Lunch for a day or two is chicken soup, his grandmothers since he knows you loved it any time you were sick. Kisses on your forehead all day is a must, you know that. If you groan and push him away, he gives you a little frown and moves closer. "You know kisses are a part of the remedy, my pretty girl." He grins when you give him your lazy smile. Your face is hot from both the fever and from his lips. Once he and you eat lunch, he cleans the home and don't you dare walk to the bedroom, he has made it clear he needs to clean and sanitise the bed.

If he has a meeting, he doesn't go to it, it's over the phone as he is in bed and has you cuddled to him. You can't argue against it. Your husband must give cuddles while on the phone. It's a rule at this point.

At night, he makes dinner, makes sure it all tastes wonderful and then feeds it to you since wrapping you in a burrito can't let your hands move. It's a funny but cute image. You, sat on the couch, blanket wrapped around you which makes you look like a cute little bug as your husband feeds you dinner. Oh, the frowns and pouts you give to his giggle and laughter won't help, he just adores you this way.

After dinner, more cuddles and kisses come by. He calls it 'kiss the sick away.' When you lean on him he knows this is to sleep but he can't allow over 3 naps per day when you're sick. So, he carries you to the bathroom. Gives you your medicine, and takes the blankets, clothes and anything in between off you. The bath was set to a very comfortable temperature.

He undresses too and once he has both of you in the bath, he kisses your shoulders. Your warm back on his chest as he cleans your body with so much gentleness it has you leaning on him and smiling. "That's what you needed huh, pretty girl," he kisses your wet shoulder again and wraps his arms around you. You kiss his bicep and he chuckles. "Don't start, my love," he whispers. The lights dimmed, him and you…this is the perfect way to get better. He hums a song, the same one he married you to and the same one he hums when he is far from home.

"I love you, pretty girl," he whispers and kisses the nape of your neck. "I love you more," you whisper back. "We both know who wins this, so do you want to start this game?" He kisses your neck again and chuckles. In moments like this, in which the world is kind and calm, he appreciates life like any normal person would. "You always win, i want to win this time." You pout and know damn well he can't say no to his pretty wife. "Fine, you win this time but we both know I have a long winning streak in this game." He grabs your hand and kisses it. In his head, he already won. And in this life, he truly did.

A/N: Makarov and Ghost are the kind of man to give me a Hozier song kind of vibe and that is what feeds my fluff brain

Tags:

@makarovsbbg @sans-chara @selarus @liyanahelena @hilmiponken @personwhosucksassatmath @undercover-smutlover @ontopofyourceiling @kielsegur @johfamm0 @goldenmclaren @moonsua1 @rivivienner @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @alxexhearts @baldwinhearts @strangepuppynightmare

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glittergoblinz · 1 month

Text

Thinking about Makarov saving you from an arranged marriage....

(TW: Implied death/hanging)

Like, obviously he isn't doing it out of the goodness of his heart. He doesn't feel bad for you in the slightest. He just knows he'd benefit more from having you for himself if he was the one to marry you instead of your fiancee.

Maybe you're the eldest child of some Russian politician or just the eldest child of one of his business partners.

He can use you as leverage for any future dealings or negotiations if he has you instead of your fiancee having you.

So it definitely wouldn't be a relationship built on love....at least not at first. It would take YEARS for him to even develop the slightest amount of feelings for you, if at all.

Shit, maybe he won't even realize he even had feelings for you at all until he's getting that cord wrapped around his neck by Price and Makarov realizes he won't be making it back home to you. Ever

...............................................

I'm definitely gonna be working on a mini fic of this in the future. Just don't know when yet

#Vladimir Makarov #Vladimir Makarov x Reader #Call of Duty #Call of Duty Modern Warfare 2 #vladimir makarov x you #gender neutral reader #afab reader #male reader #tw: death

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ateliersss · 3 months

Text

Call of Duty

...is part of The Bookshelf.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Keep You Close Summary: He's pretty sure he's in love with you. Not that he'll admit it, acknowledge it.

Fresh Ink (Series) Summary: You become Ghost’s artist and therapist in a way.

Polaroid Summary: You find a polaroid of yourself in Ghost’s vest.

When I Was Your Man Summary: Ghost regrets breaking up with you after seeing you again.

Little Lady, Big Guns Summary: A new weapons developer catches the eye of many, especially one balaclava wilding man.

Only One Boundary Summary: When it comes to his body, Simon is all ears for anything to do for you. However, he only has one boundary that he’s hesitant to compromise with now.

An Old Siren Song Summary: You're injuried on a mission early in you and ghost careers' and it affects him even 6 years later.

Lonely Summary: After Simon had left for his next mission, you were faced with the biggest challenge of your life and you had to get through that all by yourself.

Faking Summary: As the mission goes on, you are forced to fake your death, hurting the man you love most.

Fell Into You (Series) Summary: Ghost isn’t looking for anything and neither are you. But when a mission goes wrong, throwing you two together, where will things go from here?

The Little Things Summary: Five times Soap questions the relationship between Ghost and the 141’s Medic, and the one time he gets an answer.

Little Treasures, Life's Pleasures Summary: Now that Soap knows when to pay attention, he realizes you and Ghost aren’t as subtle as you think you are.

Life's Little Comforts Summary: Soap finally gets a better glimpse into your relationship with the Lieutenant- even if it’s not the way he wants.

Our Little Secret Summary: Soap finally gets all of his answers- and then some.

Interrupted Part 1, Part 2 Summary: When your make-out session gets interrupted, you shield Simon's face with your hands.

Zombie!Ghost Summary: Simon is dead. And you were forced to leave him behind as the rise of the dead took over. When you volunteer to sneak back into base to grab med supplies, you don't expect to run into Simon—alive, but certainly not himself...

Hate You Summary: Ghost seemed to despise you, making a mission you have to do together much tenser than it ever had to be…

Cat Got Your Tongue? Summary: Ghost thought you hated him, but he had no idea why. He didn't remember ever doing anything to cross you. When you're stuck doing a mission alongside him, he gets curious enough to finally ask.

Bad Day Summary: After a bad mission, Simon comes back and takes his pain out on you.

To Be Alive In Summer Summary: Betrayal had never been in your cards, and you definitely didn't see yourself being the one responsible for the act. When having to go undercover, first comes the problem of staging your death.

If You Bite My Hand Again Summary: How dare he show his face to you after all of these years? How dare you still find it in yourself to love him?

Untitled Summary: You, a civilian, kills someone out of self defense for the first time.

'Til It Ends Part 1, Part 2 Summary: You thought that it would be easy - moving on and blazing your own trail, but at every step, memories seem to come back and haunt you. And the biggest memory takes the shape of a man with a skull mask. Can you still deny what you had always felt when he stands at your side once more?

Simon "Ghost" Riley who protects you from your creepy neighbor

Simon "Ghost" Riley accidentally yelling at you Headcanon

Being Yelled At By Ghost Part 1, Part 2

Confessions

Sleepless Night

Don't Make A Habit Of Dying

Call Sign

Kindergarten Troubles Part 1, Part 2

Imagine going to sleep as 09 Ghost’s widow only to wake up next to reboot Ghost Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Captain John Price

The Traces He Left Behind Summary: You had never expected the dog tags to be so heavy, but, now, as they sit in your hands they’re just about the heaviest object you’ve ever held. M.I.A doesn’t mean John’s dead… but it might as well.

Baby Blues Summary: The promise of a normal Sunday is lost when your door is torn open, and, you, kidnaped. All you can do is pray that John finds you in time.

Let Me Lean On You Summary: You have a bad habit of putting yourself in harm’s way, enraging John to no end. But can you survive a wound like this? Or will everything you hate to love about John Price never see the light of day?

First Kiss Summary: It makes you want to laugh, it’s not how you’d envisioned your first kiss would go; you had hoped it would be romantic or passionate. Instead it was desperate battle of trying to breathe life back into John without ever having told him about your feelings.

Our Remains Summary: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Cheating Heart Summary: Your feeling for John were wrong - horribly wrong - but when you see your current boyfriend in bed with another woman, what's to hold you back anymore?

See No Evil Summary: The flowers came every week - Tuesday, two O’clock, two minutes after your break. The only problem was that you knew they weren’t coming from John.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Shaky Fingers Summary: The perfect date night begins with a stolen wallet and a goose chase.

Reveries Of A Lost Lamb Summary: Tempers flare when it hits the seven-day mark. Could they all be sure you were even still alive?

Gossamer Silk Smiles Summary: You loved your job more than anything, and at the end of the day, even with pricked fingers and cramped muscles, you went to bed happy. It had all been going well, insanely well. You were focused; self-assured... Until he showed up.

A Little Small Talk, A Smile, And Baby I Was Stuck Summary: When Soap mentions the new medic, Gaz doesn’t think much of it.

Keegan P. Russ

(Don't) Go To War Summary: Some days it became impossible not to lose your tempers with each other. Being enemies was easier than admitting you cared.

First Strike Summary: Keegan had always captured your attention. You've found out that maybe that's the best and worst thing to happen to you.

König

The Invisible String Theory Summary: You didn't expect the man who gave you his coat to be the same one to bust down the door where you and the other women slept - sniper hood scaring everyone within an inch of their life. You didn't expect him to become so important to you, either.

Moths Hit The Window Summary: Fights with König were always loud, but this time his comments went a bit too far.

Overflow The Stars Summary: One more abandoned date night later, you're left wondering if the man you're infatuated with is really interested in you at all.

Vladimir Makarov

The Great War Summary: Deadly, fast and a killing machine. Soldier was trained as a recon sniper and has been trained by allied forces as an insertion specialist. SAS has recognised this soldier as a necessity for most of its joint operations. Decorated with high awards and recognition by all military forces. TF 141 acquired soldier after a mission in Al Mazrah. Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.

No Title Summary: You have an encounter with a creepy guy.

No Title Summary: You are pregnant with Makarov's child and someone is stupid enough to mess with you.

Valeria Garza

Back When I Loved You Summary: It's been years since you had been stationed in Las Almas, returning opens some old wounds you hadn't realized never healed.

Valeria Garza

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nina-renmen · 2 months

Text

Bleed For Me pt.1

Makarov x black reader

warnings: Yandere themes, slapping, makarov looses his shit, killing, mentions of reader having braids, mentions of sex without aftercare

Russia was bound to be cold. That, y/n knew. But she didn’t expect it to rain so hard. The dark, cloudy skies provided her a way to maneuver in the dark. A sharp dagger she’d taken from Makarov was hidden in her pocket as she pressed her back up against the wall. A pair of footsteps came closer to her, prompting the darker skinned woman to pull out her weapon. Her trained fingers gripping onto the dagger tightly.

Bending her knees she watched the floor to see a shadows from the man. Once she did she waited a few more seconds before lunging out and driving the knife into the guards throat skillfully. Twisting the knife she pulled it out, letting the man that was twice her size fall to the floor. She crouched down, searching the guard. To her luck she found a gun on him, some money and a key card. Looking around, her hands gripped the guards legs, dragging him into the dark and hiding the body within the shadows.

Y/n would have to move quick. It’d only be a matter of time before Makarov realized that his ‘loving’ girlfriend was gone. Y/n’s cheek still stung from the harsh slap she’d received from Makarov during their argument earlier.

Y/n could remember the anger she’d harbored for some time. She was in their shared room- or now Makarov’s room. It was the third time Makarov slept with y/n without giving her any type of aftercare. The bruises on her body ached and tears welled up in her eyes but she held them back. She would not cry over something like this. For the last year it felt as if Makarov no longer cared for the poor girl. He was always at meetings, making deals and killing civilians. So y/n did what she did best. She packed up and got ready to leave.

“And where are you going?” Y/n’s movements didn’t stop as she calmly folded the pair of pants. “Somewhere.” Y/n said vaguely which only made the males eyebrows furrow in annoyance.

“You’re not leaving.” Makarov said as he leaned on the doorway, preventing y/n from leaving.

“I am and I will.” Y/n retorted as she opened her bedside drawer and pulled out a dagger that Makarov had personalized just for her. He did it to teach her how to fight, not knowing that her parents used to make her fight within an underground arena as the young age of sixteen. It was illegal, and under the table. No one put it on any of her records, it was something to be buried in her ‘past life’.

“Why is that? You have everything you need here. I give you everything you could ever want. Jewelry, I take you to high class restaurants, galas…anywhere you wanted to go I’ve taken you to. So why leave?” Makarov was partially right. He spent copious amounts of money. But y/n don’t want the money.

“It….feels like you don’t care for me anymore.” Y/n whispered as she stood up from kneeling beside the dresser, stuffing the dagger in her pocket. She flinched when Makarov’s arms snaked around her waist. He pushed her braids away from the side of her neck. The hickeys on her neck from last night were still fresh. “And you think that because…?” Makarov trailed off, waiting for you to answer as he kissed your neck. It was the most affection he’d given you in weeks, that didn’t involve in sex.

“You’re no longer affectionate with me. Anything that dosn’t involve sleeping with me you don’t want to do. You’re aggressive and overprotective to the point I feel as if I’m suffocating.” Y/n said honestly. Makarov’s grip tightened.

“You know I’m busy-“

“But you’re free to fuck me every other day?” Y/n cut him off. Her tone surprised him. His manipulation tactics were no longer working.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Makarov asked as he kissed your cheek. “You know I’d drop everything for you.” He whispered tenderly, his hands going under your shirt. Y/n already knew where this was going. She immediately shook him off. “This is what I’m talking about! You’re insufferable!-“

She hadn’t even realized what had happened until this sharp noise had echoed throughout the air. Her cheek throbbing in pain. But she didn’t react, she was in shock. Makarov never put his hands on her before.

Immediately he took his chance. Pushing y/n up against the wall, he grabbed her face tightly. Putting pressure on the tender spot. Making y/n wince.

“You will listen and you will listen close.” Makarov growled, pushing his body up against her own. “Yell at me again and I will cut your tongue. If you even speak about leaving me again I will cut your tongue. Do I make myself clear?” When y/n didn’t answer Makarov snatched the dagger from within her pocket, putting the cold metal up against her throat. “Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” He asked darkly to which y/n nodded slowly. Makarov pushed her head into the wall, making a loud thudding noise as the back of her skull came in contact with the wall. Y/n didn’t cry out in pain, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt her.

As Makarov turned to leave, y/n swift and nimble hands pulled out the spare dagger he had on his thigh holster, efficiently hiding it as he slammed the door shut.

And that’s why she was here now. Taking one more look around her surroundings, y/n stood up from her position next to the dead body and maneuvered within the shadows. The bloodied knife and pistol now in her grasp as she moved thought the base. She almost forgot what it was like to live like this. All the years of being pampered by Makarov almost made her forget what it’s like to be in the run, to fend for your life.

Just as y/n made it out the doors she heard Makarov’s voice. Yelling commands at his soldiers to search the base for you. Just then, y/n pulled her hood over her freshly done hair before hopping over a wall.

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saturncodedstarlette · 1 year

Text

Makarov : I have very high standards, I’d never date anyone clu—

Y/N walking in, tripping & falling face first on the floor : Ah shit—

Y/N, gets up & walks it off like nothing happened : Oh hi guys!

Makarov, under his breaths : I want them.

#Cod #Call of duty #Call of duty incorrect quotes #Call of duty x reader #Cod Makarov #vladimir makarov #Cod Makarov x reader #Cod Makarov x you #Cod Makarov x oc #Cod Makarov x male reader #Cod Makarov x fem reader #Cod Makarov x gn reader #Vladimir Makarov x reader #Vladimir Makarov x you #Vladimir Makarov x oc #Original : some-textposts #original : tumblr #Call of duty fluff #My 2023 works

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makarovssuit · 5 months

Text

Makarov x female!reader smut

!not proofread!

word count: 1k

Makarov had somehow convinced you to sit snuggly on his lap as he read to you, the sound of Vladimirs favourite music filled the house but you weren’t paying attention to that at all, your focus was fully on him and the way his big brown eyes lit up every time he took a glimpse of you sat pretty on his thigh with your head resting on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but bite his lip every time he bounced his leg which made you whimper and whine into his neck, sending shivers down his spine which got him excited and needy.

“Ты такая хорошая девочка...” he growled into your ear as he slowly ground his thigh up and down against you, eliciting a moan from your lips and a groan from his own, he had already put the book down as he wanted to tease you, grinding you against his thigh but not touching you though when your hand grazed his growing bulge he tensed up and gripped your waist with both of his large hands, pulling you on to his lap fully.

“V-Vladimir!-“ you cried out his name as he slid one cold hand up your shirt, fondling and squeezing your breasts as his other hand slowly went between your thighs, gently stroking you through your trousers, getting you wet and slick under his fingertips, he could feel your heat through your clothes which just got him even more desperate “Get up.” he commanded, looking at you expectantly with his eyes half closed. You just bit your lip and stood from his lap, standing happily in front of him.

“On your knees нуждающаяся шлюха” he purred softly, you couldn’t help but drop to his knees for him, your pretty face resting on his knee as he stared down at you, his bulge was obviously growing in his trousers which fuelled your desire, heating up the slick space between your thighs even more. Out of arousal you rubbed your head against his leg until you reached his inner thigh, your face almost touching his hard bulge as you looked up into his eyes, waiting for his nod of approval. He paused momentarily before biting his lip and giving you that nod, allowing you to fulfil your desires of pleasuring him with your mouth.

Vladimir parted his legs even more, allowing you to have proper access to his body, one of his hands went down to unzip his trousers slowly, teasing you even further. Once the zipper was all the way down you had a proper view of his boxers and the outline of his thick cock, there was a small wet patch where he had been leaking pre-cum, proving his arousal for your body “You know what to do шлюха” his voice was harsh and filled with obvious desperation. As you did know what to do, you leaned in even further and rubbed your face on his clothed bulge, the friction of your face and the thin fabric of his boxers made him groan and jerk his hips upwards, you just bit your lip and reached up to the waistband of his boxers with both of your hands, you slowly and steadily slid them down as he lifted his hips to make things easier for you. A warm blush covered your face as you took his cock out of his pants, the tip was sticky and wet from him leaking pre-cum which only made you more aroused, his breath hitched as you flicked your tongue out to softly lick the tip of his cock, a salty but nice taste filling your mouth as you kept flicking your tongue out, coaxing groans and moans out of Makarovs mouth, you reached down between your thighs to rub your clothed clit as you opened your mouth and took Makarovs cock inside. The feeling of his thick cock filling up your mouth made both you and him moan, you felt one of his hands grab on to the back of your head, forcefully pulling you up and down on his shaft, making you gag slightly as you took him to the base.

“такой хороший маленький петух” He groaned rather loudly, still dragging your head up and down his thick cock. His fingers gripped tightly on to your hair as he started getting close to cumming down your throat, his hips rutted and grinded into your mouth as the room filled with the sounds of you sloppily sucking on his cock, your saliva dripped down his shaft and on to his balls which made them nice and sticky as they hit against your chin. You whined onto his cock, sending vibrations through his body and making him fuck your face even harder, his cock twitching inside your throat, signalling his approaching orgasm.

“Just like that... whore” He snarled, thrusting his hips up and fucking your tight mouth, his big cock sliding in and out your mouth effortlessly as he chased his orgasm. You desperately tried to keep up with his movements, but he was too frantic, he just kept using your throat as a fleshlight without caring about your feelings, your hands were tightly gripped on to his thighs for support as he ravaged your mouth, his cock almost making you choke. His balls were also harshly hitting against your chin and sending waves of arousal through your body, with a loud groan he thrusted deeper once more into your mouth, filling you completely as he came, his salty cum shooting down your throat and making you gag. He sat snuggly in your throat for a moment before pushing you off his cock. He stared down into your big teary eyes momentarily before standing up slowly and tucking his cock back into his pants as you were still kneeling between his feet, almost as if you were begging for more of him and that’s exactly how he took it “Why don’t you be a good girl and go upstairs and get ready for more” He paused, thinking about his next few words “How does that sound, pet?”

#vladimir makarov x reader #vladimir makarov x you #cod x reader #call of duty vladimir makarov

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thegnomelord · 2 months

Text

Good Dog

CW: NSFW, DARK-FIC, murder, gore, power imbalance, size difference(reader's bigger), description of torture and brainwashing, oral, anal, blood as lube, plot and exposition with porn, pet play(collars and leashes), toxic relationship, dub-con, very very self indulgent.

Моя гончая- my hound, Хороший солдат - good soldier, Расслабьтесь, братья мои - relax, my brothers, приносить - fetch, есть - eat

The thick door and walls of the private room do nothing to damped the bass of the club pounding in his ears, the annoying music made bearable by the high of a recent victory. Puffs of cigarette smoke lazily curl in the air as Makarov leans further back into the couch, the buzzing sting of a fresh tattoo helping him relax. The scent of expensive liquor only adds to the heady atmosphere, crystal clear vodka swirling in his glass before Makarov takes a sip. His dark eyes peer over the rim of his glass, like doorways to a dark abyss, his gaze dancing across the faces of his most trusted men before settling on the lieutenant's as the man tries to prove his worth with pointless words.

Above all else, Makarov values loyalty.

It doesn't matter how strong a man is if he can't follow orders. The number of soldiers he can lead is pointless when he can't keep his men alive. How well he can shoot is meaningless when he can't devote himself to a cause. A man who is disloyal is a man of single use.

Makarov doesn't even try to listen to whatever drivel the lieutenant's spouting, he doesn't see a reason to sour his mood when he already knows everything: the embezzling, the lying, the adorable double agent act. He has you to thank for that, you'd sniffed the lieutenant out the second you met him, diligently uncovering every speck of dirt the lieutenant had attempted to hide from Makarov.

And you? You are very loyal. His loyal hound.

His fingers curl around the leash, the smooth black leather sliding against his calloused palms. A barely there tug is all it takes for you to lean down over the back of the couch, bracing one large hand near his head for support as the other remains over the grip of your sidearm. You loom over him, and while Makarov may be a fearsome man, he can't deny the type of foreboding fear a goliath like you inspires — a towering figure always a step behind him, broad body big enough to easily cover him fully if you need to take a bullet for him, arms strong and palms wide to easily crack a man's skull.

Settling the glass down he takes another drag of his cigarette, "Hound," Another tug — sharper, harsher; such a small correction yet the fact you needed it at all has acrid disappointment burning on your tongue — makes you bend down more, your face now next to his. He doesn't draw attention to the reprimand, breathing out a puff of smoke near your face. "Were you listening, моя гончая?"

It's a pointless question, he knows you were listening, he trained you to. But he asks because he loves to see the way your eyes darken, jaw tight. The cigarette smoke dances in the air, making the club's low lights reflect off the sharp spikes adorning the thick collar snuggly wrapped around your throat. Your day collar suits you well, no different than the spiked collars put on hunting hounds.

"Yes sir." You answer, your attention now solely on the lieutenant.

Makarov hums, eyes flickering from the lieutenant to you. "And?" He chuckles and lets the leash go, his word keeping you in place as he casually pats your neck. "What did you hear?"

"Lies. . ." The slow slide of his fingers across the uncovered parts of your throat makes your breath stutter, static crackling beneath your skin. "I heard lies, sir." Your answer causes the lieutenant to try and sputter excuses and denials, all cut short by the harsh look you give him.

Makarov chuckles, hooking a finger over the silver loop at the front of your collar, pulling on it and tilting his head so his lips can ghost across your jaw. "Хороший солдат." Makarov murmurs. His stubble scratches your skin as his lips brush a path to your ear, so very close to a lover's kiss.

But a brush of skin is all it is. Nothing more. Your body earns for more, to turn your head and experience the bruising possessiveness of his kiss once again, to feel his teeth bite down on your lip until blood floods both of your mouths. But you don't move; A spoiled dog isn't loyal and Makarov won't lavish you with attention for nothing. no — you must earn it.

"Stay." The soft 'click' of the leash unclipping sounds the same as a sentencing gavel, the strip of leather falling away until only his word keeps you from tearing the lieutenant's throat out with your teeth. Makarov smirks against your skin, his words honey sweet to your ears as he whispers: "Sick him."

That seals the ex-lieutenant's fate.

You're on the lieutenant in an instant, crashing into him like a truck. Makarov leans back and lights up another cigarette as you stomp down on the man's leg, all the weight you carry around bearing down on his bones until they break, erasing any foolish thoughts of escape when you snap the bones of his other ankle; Makarov has truly taught you well.

The screams of a traitor are much better than the atrocious club music, letting him enjoy the smooth burn of the vodka as another stomp breaks a couple of ribs. Some of his men are still nervous around you, trying not to shuffle in their seats lest they grab your attention and become the new outlet of your violence.

"Расслабьтесь, братья мои." Makarov gives a charming smile, resting his ankle on his knee as he takes another drag. "Hound is well trained, you have nothing to fear." He chuckles, lazily watching you as he holds conversation with his lieutenants. Honestly, you're like a dog with a new toy, tossing the man around and pinning him down under your heavy body, each swing of your fists steadily turning the ex-lieutenant's face into pulp.

It's as entertaining for him as it is therapeutic for you.

And to think Price had tried to suppress all that beautiful savageness you possessed.

Makarov remembers how you'd been nothing but a snarling and cursing ball of anger when his men had captured you after a botched mission. He had been both annoyed and amused by how loyal you were to Price, weathering every beating and starving and humiliation with the same 'fuck you' response, baring your teeth like the cornered dog you were. With days turning to months and your resolve refusing to waver under their 'care' Makarov had considered just putting you down, sending a nice video of blowing your skull open to Price but oh — is he glad he decided to indulge in the game your stubbornness presented.

He set out to train you like he would any mongrel mutt, clear expectations making it easy to tell whether your actions would get you a reward or an even worse punishment, giving small rewards for the behavior he wanted; not snarling at him might earn you a better meal. Biting your lip and taking your beating without back talk could get you a couple of minutes outside the claustrophobic walls of your cell. Letting him touch and inspect your body without complaint might reward you with a book or some other little creature comfort he could, and did, easily take away the moment you stepped out of line.

Of course you were weary, perceptive enough to know when he was scheming. But every man has his limits, yours were simply reached when he handed you official C.I.A documents proclaiming you as K.I.A, the mission itself creatively rewritten to sound like you had gone and deserted to the enemy — no one was looking for you, no one was coming to save you, your captain, Price, wasn't coming to save you.

He had taken great enjoyment in running his fingers across your scalp as you clutched the documents in a white knuckled grip, your mind far too worn down to question or guard against the soft touches. His lips had brushed against your ear, soothingly raspy voice comforting you — you're a good soldier, strong, reliable, everything a commander could dream of. It wasn't your fault you trusted the wrong man, truly, what a shame to have your loyalty repaid with betrayed like that.

After that, it became laughably easy to train you. He stuck with simple commands, spoken only in Russian so he could amuse himself with the way your head would tilt before you'd perk up, recognition making your dull eyes brighten before you did what he wanted in exchange for a small scrap of his affection, learning to seek his praise and appreciate his touch even when your body still prickled with disgust. So when he handed you the knife, standing so close you could have easily slit his throat, and ordered you to kill another member of your previous taskforce, you hadn't hesitated for a second. "Good boy." He had purred, caressing your jaw as he used his thumb to wipe away the blood staining your cheek.

"Hound." His voice is as effective as any physical tug on your leash, making you stop mid punch with your fist inches away from the ex-lieutenant's caved in face. You're covered in blood, the rich crimson bringing out the violence swirling in your eyes.

Yet you look at him with utter adoration he wants to shove his cock deep down your throat just so he can see your tears smudge the blood on your cheeks. "Приносить." He taps his thigh.

You nod your head, grabbing the knife strapped to your thigh. There's no hesitation in your movements as you shove the knife into the ex-lieutenant's throat. An arc of blood spurts across your front when you yank it out just to stab another spot, the man coughing and choking as you cut through cartilage and muscle until with a good yank and a sickening 'crack!' you separate the head from the body.

Makarov had never seen the appeal of large hulking brutes until you — your body had filled back out with muscle and fat nicely after you became his, towering body demanding attention simply by existing as you stand up. The loud stomp of your feet and the blood staining your body making you look like a barbarian, casting a shadow over him before you kneel at his feet, offering the decapitated head as a knight does to his king.

Oh yes, he definitely sees the appeal now.

"Good dog." He purrs, reaching out to stroke your jaw, smearing some of the blood with his thumb. Fingers sliding down to hook on the silver ring on your collar he pulls your head closer. "Do you think you earned a reward?"

It's a test. One you're intimately familiar with. The judgmental stares of Makarov's trusted men are the last thing in your mind when the closeness of his body and the sharp crisp scent of his cologne threatens to shatter your resolve. "Only if you permit it, sir." Your throat feels dry, trying not to show how eager you are for his attention as you place the head on the floor so you don't get a drop of blood on him.

Makarov smirks, "Smart dog," His hands move to the back of your neck, unbuckling the collar. You're no longer ashamed to admit you feel naked as the thick piece of leather is pulled away; the time when you didn't have a collar wrapped around your neck feel like a distant memory and now the sensation of breathing without it pressing against your skin is disturbing. You have to bite your lip to keep the low whine from escaping your chest.

His hand wraps securely around your throat, bringing your breath back to you. Your Adam's apple bobs beneath his fingers as he traces the 'V.M' shallowly carved across your throat. "It's already starting to fade." He tuts, squeezing his fingers to restrict your breathing just the slightest bit more. "We'll need to have it tattooed. That would be nice, yes?"

You suck in a sharp breath, "Yes sir."

"Хороший солдат." He purrs. He pulls out another collar from his pocket and you feel yourself chub up in your pants just at the sight of it. It's the chained pronged one he uses exclusively when he wants you to pleasure him, particularly because it leaves such pretty bruises along your skin when he tugs on the leash.

You eagerly tilt your head back to bare your throat, a shudder rushing down your spine as soon as you feel the cold metal against your skin. You stay perfectly still as he secures around your neck, the sharp pull of the leash making the prongs dig into your skin, prickles of pain making you even harder. "Go on," Makarov hums, spreading his legs wider so your attention falls to the hard bulge in his slacks, his belt undone but the rest left to you. "есть."

You don't think you could enjoy servicing him as much as you did if he didn't let you work for it, the reward made sweeter because you earned it. Truly, he's so good to you, you'd thank him profusely but he hasn't given you permission to speak freely. So you lean in, careful not to get blood on his pants as you take the metal zipper between your teeth and pull it down. You've done this enough not to have any problems undoing the button, your hands obediently planted on your thighs and your gaze firmly on him so you can see the pleased smirk that spreads across his features when you bite the band of his boxers and pull them down until his cock springs out, already hard.

A pleased sigh escapes him when your warm lips wrap around the head of his cock, the leash wrapped firmly around his hand and the slightest tug on it has pain prickling down your spine. "Моя гончая, don't waste my time." You can't help but whine lowly at the admonishment, quickly trying to make up to him by sucking on the tip and licking the slit in just the way he likes it.

His leg shifts, hard boot coming up to grind the sole against your clothed cock. "That's better." The praise makes you moan deep from your chest and try to take more of his cock into your mouth, your boxers wet and sticky against your own cock as you give an experimental hump of your hips against his boot. You scrape your teeth along the vein on the underside of his cock and it earns you a rough grind of his boot. His hand tangles in your bloodied hair and pulls you down until his cock bumps the back of your throat.

You nearly choke from the sudden pressure, trying to fight off the reflex to pull back and gag. "Look at me." His order rings clear in your head, your eyes meeting his as he grinds your nose into his pubic hair, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as your lungs start to burn. You fight through it, the fluttering of your throat making him five a small, rough, moan and fuck — you're hard as a rock.

Just as you feel like you'll pass out on his cock he lets you off, yanking your head back. You're only given a few seconds to take a sharp breath of fresh air before he pushes your head back down. You're prepared this time, hollowing your cheeks and relaxing your throat, swallowing around his hard cock. The way you suck Makarov off is wet and sloppy, stealing ragged breaths when you can as you trace the veins of his cock with your tongue and gently nibble on the base when his cock's fully sheathed in your throat, knowing exactly how to please him. Your efforts are rewarded with the salty taste of precum on your tongue, hearing him occasionally mutter his praises in Russian, none of his words snagging on your mind like sharp orders so you let yourself drift in the pleasure of servicing him, subconsciously grinding your cock into his foot.

But you're not mentally gone enough not to notice the squeaking of chairs, your body tensing as you pull up enough so only his head remains in your mouth, your head turned just enough to throw a sharp glare at the other men in the room. Makarov having his guard down like this makes you tense, violence buzzing beneath your skin from the ingrained need to protect him.

"Hound." Makarov's growl is followed by another sharp tug of the leash, the dull ache of the metal prongs digging into your skin dissipating some of your aggression. "Did I tell you to stop?"

You shake your head as best you can, a pathetic whine escaping your chest from the way the pain makes your cock even harder. Satisfied, he eases the leash, letting you return to your work. His head lolls back, lazily looking at his men. He couldn't care less who sees you like this, but now he wants your full attention on him. "Leave." He gives the simple command.

You track the sound of shuffling feet as you take him fully into your mouth, making him hiss a curse under his breath. Nuzzling your nose into his curly pubic hair you breathe in his musk, his heel grinding firmly and consistently against your hard cock, pleasure pulsing through your veins with such intensity you're worried you'll cum without permission, low whines escaping your throat.

He pulls you off him suddenly, your lungs burning as you gasp for air. You expect him to paint your face with his cum, stake an obvious ownership over you. But he doesn't, pulling you by the leash and leaning down to mash your lips together, teeth biting down on your lip until it bleeds.

Makarov's kisses are rough and demanding, the sweet drug your body's been craving, teeth clicking together and tongues swirling in each other's mouths. The firm grind of his boot against your crotch makes you moan lowly, a sound he happily swallows down and nearly shoves his tongue down your throat. You part far too soon, your body craving much much more, but he doesn't let you stew in the disappointment of a short kiss — it's an owner's responsibility to spoil his pet — mumbling against your lips. "Prepare me."

A full shudder runs down your spine and you surge to follow his order. Makarov loves the determined look you get in your eye just as much as he loves the rough way you grip his hips and hike them up so you can pull his pants and boxers down his legs. Your bloodied fingers grip his hips and pull them down until his ass hangs off the edge of the couch, throwing his legs over your shoulders and he can feel the muscles deep in his back strain as you nearly bend him in half, his hard cock and hole bared for you.

It's a vulnerable position, trapped between your bulky frame and the couch he has no way to escape. And if anyone else were to attempt this he would feed every inch of their flesh to themselves. But Makarov relishes the knowledge that he's in control, a single word from him would make you stop regardless of how hard and wanting you were, your loyalty to him as real as the dead man's blood you dip your fingers in to lube them.

Your fingers circle his hole before you press the pad of your finger against it. Without the heat of battle the cold viscousness of the blood feels disgusting, making him shiver and his rim flutter against your digit. But the discomfort is easily forgotten when you apply pressure, the steady and persistent way you push your finger in forcing his muscles to yield. "Shit-" Makarov clenches his teeth; your fingers are so large just one feels like two of his own, the gnawing pain of your finger pushing deeper just amplifying the pleasure of being stretched open and your other hand loosely stroking his wet cock.

You don't go slower than you need to, perfectly trained to know how to move your fingers to keep him teetering on the edge between pleasure and pain, each shift and slow drag of your finger pulling deep grunt and soft breaths from between his clenched teeth. "Yes, there you go." His praise makes your heart melt and cock throb in your pants, the pull of the leash bringing your lips together in another harsh kiss. You swallow his moans greedily, pushing a second finger in and curling them in search of his prostate, your thumb incessantly rubbing the space between his balls and ass to trap the spongy flesh between your fingers.

He nearly chokes you with how hard he yanks on the leash, hips pushing back into your hand and walls clenching down on your fingers. The stinging ache of being stretched open mixes with the building pleasure, leaving his skin feeling like a live wire. His teeth dig into your lip until it bleeds again, heels digging into your back. He grinds his hips down on your fingers, muttering praises against your lips as you push a third finger in and force him to take it.

He can't wait any more, gripping your hair and roughly yanking your head back. "Fuck me already." He growls, licking the blood staining your cheek.

You scramble to do as you're told, continuing to stretch him open as you undo your belt and pants with one hand, your hard cock bobbing against your abdomen. Pulling your fingers out you scoop up more blood, the cold helping reign in your lust as you lube up.

Before you can do anything he reaches out to grip the base of your cock, his hold firm and just at the cusp of pain. "You'll be good, yes?" He growls against your lips. "Fuck me good and hard?" His hand moves, stroking you slowly, evenly coating the blood along your cock. "I don't need to show you how to use this thing again, do I?" There's a dangerous edge in his voice.

Fear shoots down your spine, mouth going dry. You'd been too eager for human touch when he first let you mount him, and when you came seconds after getting inside him he'd been less than pleased by your abilities. You couldn't feel your cock for a full week after he'd tied you down and used your cock until you couldn't cum, using a cock ring to keep you hard and using you until he was satisfied.

You quickly shake your head. "No sir," You choke out and bare your throat. "I can do it, I'll be good." You promise.

His hold loosens, tugging you by the hair so he can peck your lips, his tongue licking over the small wound he'd made. "Don't fail me now."

You steel yourself like you're going to war, pressing your cockhead to his hole. Your nails dig into his hip, your grip ironclad to keep him still as you pull him down more and simultaneously push in. There's a second of resistance before your head pops in, the pleasure of entering his velvet soft insides being met with sharp pain as his teeth chomp down on your shoulder through your shirt. It all mixes in your brain into pure bliss, your hips bucking up into him automatically until you're bottomed out. You hold him close to you and leisurely grind your hips, letting him get used to the mind numbing stretch.

Fuck— Makarov may see the appeal of brutes but impaled on your cock he feels like he's being split in two, lungs burning and he can almost swear your tip's poking his diaphragm. He chases the pain more than the pleasure, heels digging into your back to give him some leverage so he can push his hips into yours. "Yes," His head lolls back when you slowly withdraw, only to suddenly snap your hips and hilt yourself inside him again. "-fuck, yes!"

The blood keeps you from tearing him apart but there's too little of it to keep him from feeling the painful stretch, the slow movement of your hips making his thighs shake. "Harder," He demands, yanking on your leash and biting your shoulder again. "Make me feel it." His voice is rough with a demand, because men like him never beg.

"Yes sir," You manage, bracing your feet and setting a rough pace, rutting into him like an animal. He muffles his sounds into your shoulder as your cock saws into him, his walls fluttering and clenching around you so tightly it feels like he'll snap your cock off. You do your best to focus on him and his pleasure, but the tight heat of his hole is rapidly melting any control you have, your cock throbbing and leaking precum inside him.

"Sir, please-" You whine, your muscles tight and your balls feeling so full you feel like you'll burst, your voice full of need. "I'm so close."

“Not yet.” He growls, pushing his hips down to meet your thrusts, your hand stroking his cock. “Make me cum first.” He growls.

You hold back a pathetic whine and redouble your efforts, your rough thrusts bruising his ass as you fuck into him, aiming to nail his prostate every time you bottom out. He wails, whole body shaking, his cock throbbing in your hand and leaking a puddle of precum on his stomach.

Makarov cums without any warning, going rigid and biting your shoulder even harder as pearly cum shoots from his tip, his walls clamping down on your cock. "C- cum!" He snarls, voice muffled, and it's all you need. Bottoming out fully you moan as you shoot his insides full of your cum, rocking your hips and grinding your cock against his prostate to prolong both of our highs.

You hold him close as you come down to reality but the way his walls clench around your cock makes you feel like heaven. His hands grip your jaw, bringing you down into a disorganized sloppy kiss. He's boneless in your arms, his walls continuing to flutter around you. "That was good." He slurs, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath. "Good dog."

The tug of the leash is expected and Makarov kisses the corner of your lips, tongue swiping across your skin to lick up more of the blood staining your lips. "Clean me up." He orders, "Lick up your mess." He growls, and there's not a single part of you that would refuse him.

Tag list: @lieutnt, @pastelclovds @thee-great-enigma @vladimirking24

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