#Vladimir makarov x you

[diejager]

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

[littlemissclandestine]

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 ☆

[blingblong55]

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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[mobiushusband]

thinking about Vladimir Makarov who’s just a sucker for older guys blheeee i’m so silly :PPPP

Okay but think about it— The man has issues, we all know that, and he’s a momma’s boy without a decent father figure— Or absolutely non for the matter.

And then there’s you, his second in command, his right-hand man, his most trusted ally and closest friend that had been with him through thin and thick, and also, you casually came to be an older man. The age gap between you two isn’t crazy, but enough to have him stealing glances from you. He has never actually asked how old are you, but taking in consideration the few white hairs that had been starting to grow in your thick beard and in your hair, he would guess that you’re around your first or mid forties.

You’ve worked for and with him since the beginning, always around for him, with those dad vibes that sometimes just made excitement lick up his spine. He would never admit it, but he loved the casual ‘good job, son’ you would throw at him from time to time whenever he did a good planning that made the mission be successful, a hand gently squeezing his shoulder as your taller frame loomed over him. How you would stand out for him whenever a soldier was misbehaving and trying to mock him or make him feel less just because he was young and full of ambitions— There’s immediately a hand wrapped around his shoulder, pulling him back towards your chest and shooting a death look at the soldier who had tried to disrespect him. He never asked why he never saw the soldier again after that.

He would be damned if him himself ever admitted that he sometimes, and just sometimes, procured in making an specially good speech for his men, just so he could go back to your shared office after that just to find you there, leaning against your desk with a cigarette in hand, a proud, soft smile dangling from your lips as you gently ruffled his hair in a fatherly way. “You really putted some effort in that, huh, kiddo?” You would playfully say, knowing how much it annoyed him whenever you called him that. “I’m proud of you. Those men couldn’t have a better leader.” You would then say, your hand lingering in his hair a moment later just to pull away and go back into business.

Vladimir had known that he had a thing for older men a long time now— Probably since he was in high school and had a boner when he saw his hot history teacher rolling his sleeves up. He had never really payed too much mind to it, however, thinking that it was something of the age. And oh, it definitely wasn’t. But he only realized that only after letting one of his men, Ivan, fuck him senseless in his first year of starting his criminal organization.

Now here you were, both of you staying late at night in your shared office, empty bottles of different alcohols spreaded all over the coffee table in front of the small couch there was in the office, soft, drunk chuckles emerging from the bottom of yours and Makarov’s chest after a succesful mission. He leaned back in the couch, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a vodka bottle as he took a sloppy drink from it. “I’m-I’m serious, (Y/n).” The russian stumbled with his words, tongue feeling heavy in his mouth as he readjusted himself in the couch to look at you. “How does that even works? I mean— Chickens are birds, but they don’t fly! How useless are they?” He huffed, falling silent for a brief moment just so he could bring the bottle up to his lips again.

You simply chuckled, low and seductive at Makarov’s ears, at how silly the younger man got every time he putted alcohol in his system. You shook your head to the sides, leaning forward to snatch the bottle from Makarov’s hand to take a sip of your own. “Why are we even talking about this?” You asked between laughs as the burning feeling of the alcohol going down your throat numbed your senses. With half-open lids, Makarov looked up to you, his words stucking in the back for his throat for a moment. God, why did you have to be so hot? Your handsome factions, a sharp jaw covered in black-white stubble that made him want to nibble on it, thin lips that looked red and wet for constantly licking them, messy black hair with white strands that shone under the tenuous light of the room, big, muscular arms covered in black furr that looked just so perfect to wrap around his neck as you pounded on him— And don’t make him get started with your hands and the rest of you.

“… I think I’ve some issues. Serious ones.” He suddenly mumbled his answer to your question, his eyes driving up and down your body until they eventually fell on your own (e/c) once again. You raised an eyebrow to his words, pulling the bottle off your mouth with a wet sound. “Why do you say that?” You asked back, titling your head to the side and allowing yourself to rest the side of your body against the comfy couch, now both of you face to face as Vladimir popped his head in the knuckles, his elbow digging into the back of the couch. “Because…” He began, but trailed off mid-sentence.

He was drunk, he told to himself, and so were you. If he did a move on you right now, you probably wouldn’t even remember the next morning. But was he willing to take the risk? What if he made a move and fucked up everything? If he threw away all those years of friendship you have gave him? If he lost you?

The thought sent a shiver running down his spine, his eyes ripping away from yours as he thought about what he wanted to do. He was already starting to feel that familiar heat pooling in his lower belly, his legs growing restless and pressing together from time to time. There was so many things he could lost— “… Because I think I want you to fuck me.” He bluntly said, staring right into your eyes. Fuck it, he thought to himself, I can always force him to stay with me if he rejects me. He was drunk out of his ass, you were drunk out of your ass, you both were the only ones probably in the whole place— He could not let this chance go away. The alcohol had took such a tool over him, that he didn’t even feel nervous while he awaited for your reaction.

In anyway, soon enough he discovered that he wouldn’t be needing to pull the move of threatening you, because just after a few seconds of you staring at him with wide eyes and in total silence, you left the bottle on the coffee table; the same hand that had been holding the bottle now sliding to brush against his thigh. “Thought you would never ask, sweetheart.” You whispered back, and Vladimir would be damned if he ever admitted that he got hard just for hearing you say that.

The feelings he had been hiding within him were suddenly too much to handle, and in a blink he was leaning forward with his hands grabbing the collar of your shirt, his mouth crashing with yours in a desperate, needy kiss that was all tongue and teeth at first. Your own hands went to grab his hips, providing a gentle squeeze as he changed his position and got on his knees on the couch, quickly straddling your lap without breaking away from the kiss.

His hand went to wrap around your neck, his possessiveness and need for control hitting him all of sudden like a brick wall. His hand wasn’t large enough to totally wrap around your neck and choke you efficiently, so he thought that scratching the back of your neck with it would be enough for now. “You’re mine, you hear me? Mine.” He whispered against your mouth, hearing you growl and shiver against his lips as he eventually figured out, through his drunk cloud, that he could use both of his hands to wrap around your neck. “Have been yours for a long time, love.” You answered, your own hands going to gently knead at his bubble ass.

The confession made his cock immediately go hard, a painfully noticeable bulge now in his slacks. He couldn’t help but grind down against you, his cock coming in contact with your own hard dick. He smiled playfully at that. “Maybe we should get drunk more often.” He teased after breaking away from the kiss, your hot, ragged breath hovering over his mouth. You returned the smile, giving a testing thrust up just to see his reaction, totally delighted with the pretty groan that fell from Vladimir’s lips. “My pretty boy...” You growled, pulling him down into another bruising kiss. Makarov would deny forever and ever that he whimpered when you called him that.

PD: this is not corrected nor revised, so sorry for any mistake. English is not my first language either!!! And probably this is a bit ooc but i don’t care. Thank u x reading my silly thoughts :33333

[ateliersss]

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 terrifyingly calm and 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 reassurance.

"Did you not like it when we went shopping and you spent 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 undivided attention? Or when I made love to you for hours anywhere, any time?"

When you wouldn't reply again, one of his hands shot 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 speaking 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 its 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 your 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 at 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 throat, blocking your airways.

With panic-widened 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 delicate neck, all the dresses and shoes I bought you, all the vacations I took you on, and all the sweet words I spoke 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 doubted 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 grip 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 sent 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 dozens 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 was 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 seriously harming 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 heartstrings, 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 millisecond.

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.

[ghxst3m8]

Dangerously yours

Makarov: look Y/N... a shooting star! Did you wish?

Y/N: Oh…I didn’t have time...

Makarov: So there is something you wish for?

Y/N: Yes...

Makarov: What did you wish for?

Y/N: I was wishing... we were two other people... two people who do not need say goodbye...

[nina-renmen]

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.

[nwheregirl]

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)

[lokidbadguy]

still angry with him (should do me instead)

[endmeprettyplease]

Happy Birthday, Aнгел

A/N: idk what this is, other than self indulgent. I love Makarov sm, and I'm desperate to get back into writing. So if you guys have any requests for him, please send them my way. This can be read as og makarov or reboot. I had both in mind when writing it. Reader is female but with no descriptions of appearance. Translations at the end.

Vladimir Makarov x Fem!Insecure Reader

Warnings: BDSM elements, but bad etiquette, collars, overstimulation, reader is a bad person, makarov is definitely worse, no use of y/n, pet names, google translate (so sorry)

Summary: Makarov surprises the reader for their birthday.

Stepping into the elevator you reminisce on your evening. Deciding that last drink was probably a mistake. Although, even after tripping over yourself on the way to your door and fumbling with your keys a bit, you couldn’t wipe the smile from your face. The warmth of your cheeks from a good night out with friends outweighed any guilt. Until you stepped into your dark apartment. Suddenly reminded of what you were missing. The one thing you did want for your birthday. Likely the reason you’d drank a little more than normal.

Tossing your purse and shoes aside with a sigh. When your arrangement with the man who only identified himself as ‘Vladimir’ began, it was strictly business. Despite the very personal nature of it. You kept him company and he kept you comfortable. Luxury clothes, condo in the nicest part of the city, cash in hand for anything you needed. As long as you did as he asked, discreetly. You knew the inevitable, even as you agreed. That those long nights spent with him between your thighs and romantic dinners would stir feelings in even the strongest of willed.

Nearly a year in and you had been making breakfast watching the news when his image appeared. The same man still sleeping in your bed was plastered on screen beside the names of countless victims. “Makarov Strikes Again” in bold along the bottom. The eggs burned as your mug shattered. The coffee scalding your feet as it spattered but you didn’t move. You knew you had a choice to make. 

Moments later, Makarov had shuffled from the bedroom, hair spiked and ruffled from sleep. Looking incredibly irritated at his abrupt wake up call. A look that was somehow terribly endearing on him. You were fucked, you realised.  When his eyes found the t.v. he paused, slowly tracking his gaze back to you. Making your choice then, you merely smiled back, turning to retrieve some fresh eggs from the fridge. Decidedly unaffected by what kind of person your silence made you. Pretending not to know how it saved your life. 

The memory left your chest feeling hollow, in more ways than one. Against your conscience you had continued to turn a blind eye to his ‘work’. The way he made you feel, the life you lived because of him pulled a selfishness from you that you didn't know existed. Knowing his identity only fueled your need for more of his magnetic and dangerous excitement. More of him. The one thing he could not afford to give you. 

So as it was, you were alone in a condo far too big for just you, on your birthday. Makarov had informed you that morning he would not be in town for the night. Wishing you well with a bouquet at your door and a necklace probably worth more than your childhood home. The necklace itself weighing heavily around your throat, a reminder of what you gave up to have him. Leaving you to question if the loneliness and risk was worth the sparse attention. 

Sighing you felt notably more sober than when you stepped in the door, buzz sufficiently killed by your spiraling thoughts. You settled on going to bed, hoping you’d at least receive a call in the morning. If anything just to know he's safe and alive. You grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and moved to walk towards your bedroom before something on your couch caught your eye. Heart pounding as you realised you were not alone. Maybe this is where it all catches up to you-

“Ангел.” Makarov slung his arm lazily across the back of the couch, turning towards you. “You had a good time, да?”

A rush of air left your chest in relief, nearly dizzy with it, quickly replaced by a thrill. “You’re here!” You rounded the couch in record time, happily tossing yourself into his lap. Taking a moment to examine him in the dark you could tell he had showered. The smell of his cologne and your shampoo fresh on his skin. Distinctly lacking his usual scent of cigarettes and gunpowder. His usual dress shirt was replaced by an undershirt and slacks. About as ‘dressed down’ as you'd seen him.  “Did you need to startle me? Why are you in the dark?” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before pulling away. 

Makarov huffed, close to a laugh, one arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close and with the other he gestured towards the large windows and sparkling skyline. “I was enjoying the view, though I much prefer this one.” Pinching your bottom for effect, you squeaked and batted his hand away.

“I’m so happy you made it, you said you couldn’t come.” You nuzzled into his neck, leaving soft kisses in your wake. You could feel the warmth of him through your cocktail dress and it was already buzzing in your head. Alcohol be damned. It had been weeks since he last visited and your need for him was quickly overtaking your senses. 

Vladimir merely shushed you, fingers scratching across your scalp. “I wanted it to be a surprise, it is such an important day after all.” Suddenly his gentle touch turned firm. Balling your hair into his fist as he wrenched you from him. Vladimir tisked, “I understand you’ve had an exciting night. But I expect better from you, моя любимая шлюха.” His voice was close to a snarl, eyes dark. 

Your heart dropped nearly as quickly as you did. Knees falling into the plush carpet between his feet. “I’m sorry, sir. I was just so happy to see you, but it is no excuse for forgetting my manners.” You twisted your hands in your lap, not meeting his eye. You could nearly never predict how he would react to anything. He flipped so quickly between emotions it was as terrifying as it was exciting. Heat already pooling in your cheeks and between your thighs. 

Vladimir’s fingers lifted your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. “Hush, I have no intention of punishing you tonight. You are forgiven.” His voice soft once again. Finally, his lips met yours in a proper kiss, as deep and unyielding as him. Eventually, you pulled away to breathe, already feeling slightly floaty. Overwhelmed by the feelings he brought out in you. 

“I have brought you something. Повернись.” He gestured with his hand. Quickly, you complied, spinning around on your knees. “Tonight,” Makarov began, behind you, you could hear him opening a box. “I wish to celebrate you.” He easily unclasped your necklace, delicately removing it and settling it aside. You heard a quiet jingle, like a charm bracelet. 

“Now, who do you belong to?” He asked, voice quiet, a thinly veiled threat. But you had never had a problem swearing your loyalty, not to him. 

“You, always you, Vladimir, sir.” 

“Всегда такая хорошая девочка.” He breathed, clearly pleased. A moment later cool leather wrapped around your neck. Thick and firm, smelling freshly polished. Your heart rate rising again as he tightened it around your throat. You could feel your jugular pulsing against the restriction, your mouth suddenly dry. 

Vladimir’s fingers ran along the edge of the collar before slowly cupping your jaw and tilting your head back. Forcing you to bend uncomfortably to follow him. “Tonight, you will take my gifts as I offer them. And you will thank me, да?”

“Yes, sir, thank you.” 

The time it took for him to draw you into the bedroom and strip the dress he had bought for you was a heady blur. His hands always felt cold and calloused. His hands never let you forget what kind of man he was. How dangerous he is. And yet you willingly allowed him to arrange your nude body on the bed as he pleased. Hands bound to the rungs of the headboard. Heart in your throat, yet legs spread because it is what he wanted of you. 

Once satisfied Makarov stepped back, still fully clothed and looking unaffected by the scene, except for the growing bulge in his slacks. One reaction he couldn’t hide from you. Humming his pleasure he ran his eyes along your body and - he turned and abruptly left you. 

You blinked, disappointed but not entirely surprised. You wouldn’t put it past him to insist on rewarding you only to leave you naked and bound for later. He had done it before.  You breathed out a sigh and rolled your already stiff shoulders. Your collar feeling uncomfortably tight, you started to settle in for a long evening. But before you could begin to sulk he returned. Holding another box, black with a pink ribbon tied into a neat bow. 

Vladimir was smiling, teeth looking sharp in the dim light. He was excited, oh no. “Happy Birthday, Ангел. Would you like to open your gift?” He held the box towards you as you stared lamely back at him. The cuffs around your wrists clinking as you shifted your arms.

Huffing an almost laugh again, Makarov rolled his eyes. “Of course, not to worry, I can do it for you. This you will enjoy, I’m sure.” Carelessly he ripped to bow from the box, tossing it aside. Unlike how you, oh so carefully, unwrapped his gifts. You felt a shiver run down your spine, instincts kicking in as your brain had a moment to consider your situation. Maybe you’d finally outrun your usefulness, maybe- 

“Ah!” Tossing the box and tissue paper in the same direction as the bow he produced a small pink…vibrator. Finally breathing again, your panic passed. Despite his flair for the dramatic he wouldn’t hurt you, not in any way you couldn’t take. Not if you were good. And you were always good. The sparkle in his eyes and smirk on his mouth told you that he knew what you were thinking, and that he enjoyed sparking such reactions in you. 

Approaching the bed he looked down at you almost contemplative, as he often did. As if he wasn’t sure what he should do with you. Like a cat unsure if it should eat a mouse or bat it around a bit instead for entertainment. 

Moving onto the bed he encouraged your knees apart, the cool silicone in his hand running along your thigh. “Я скучал по тебе.” Sounding almost wistful as he clicked the vibrator on, it was small and curved and you knew exactly what it was for. Surprisingly gently, he dragged the vibrator across your already sensitive skin. Tickling your hips and stomach before he pressed it to your nipple and bent over to kiss you. 

The kiss becoming more frantic as he worked both of you up. Your arms already straining against your bonds, desperate to tangle your fingers in his hair, to touch him anywhere. Rocking your hips unintentionally you found how wet you were as you stained his slacks. Your slick heat pressing against him through the rough fabric. He enjoyed the friction and allowed the movement for a little longer, before pulling back again. Hand steadying your hips, nails biting into your skin. If he could not keep control of you, he could not control himself. 

“I may not have come here with the intention of punishing you tonight, but I will. If you make me.” There was a near snarl to his tone that caused you to lockup immediately. All movement stilling. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” You breathed, voice shaky. Was the collar tighter?

Makarov smiled again, “I know, мой питомец.” He moved back on the bed, lying between your legs. Grazing the soft skin of your inner thighs with the vibrator, the buzzing making you shake. Desperate not to disappoint him, you held fast and didn't move. “Хороший.” He seemed pleased, and rewarded you by suddenly pressing the vibrator to your mound, just barely above your clit. You twitched, stunned by the sudden stimulation but did not jerk away. Looking down you met his eyes, watching the smile spread even further on his face. Nothing pleased him more than obedience. Well, possibly suffering, but he seemed in a giving mood tonight. For better or worse. 

Vladimir moved closer to your sex, even his breath on you made you throb. Yearning for the mercy he was known to lack, you behaved. Lying still and vulnerable, just how he liked you. Slowly, he dragged the vibrator along the wet seam of your cunt. Stopping to press it harshly to your clit to watch your reaction. But he had trained you well, so when you didn’t flinch, instead tensing as well as you could, he moved to your opening instead. The vibrations along your slick walls made you choke. You wanted to call out to him, but knew better, he hadn’t asked to hear you. The curve to the silicone focused the vibrations perfectly on your most sensitive spot, and  you felt dangerously and embarrassingly close already.

“Хорошенькая маленькая шлюшка.” Makarov lifted his head, resting his cheek on your hip, fingers still pressing against the vibrator inside you. “Do you like your present?” 

You swallowed harshly, finding words hard to push past the leather constricting your throat. Suffocating, like him. “Yes, sir. Very…much, thank you.” You finally managed. Your world narrowing to nothing other than him and your need. He smiled again, almost boyishly, and began rocking his fingers, clicking the vibrator up another level. This caused a reaction that you simply could not fight. You threw your head back, cuffs noisly clanking again as your hands gripped the bed frame. A cry you had no chance of stopping leaving your lips. 

Despite this, Makarov only sped up his movements. Pressing the silicone into you relentlessly. You tried to think of anything not to come. But it felt like you didn't have a choice, he’d been gone so long. Just as you began to lose hope of being good tonight, Vladimir spit on your cunt. Your hips jerking in response. “Go ahead, you do not need to ask for permission tonight,”

The words had barely registered in your cloudy brain before you were coming messily onto his hand. Your slick running down his wrist. Had you been in your right mind you would’ve picked up on the danger in his words. He did not stop, forcing you to ride out your high as long as possible, even as you twisted in his grip. 

When tears started rolling down your cheeks he let up. Allowing you to take a deep breath. Vladimir shifted, moving away from you. You realized now he would finally fill you, you'd get to feel him inside. What you’d been gagging for all those weeks he’d been away. Relief filling you as you spread your thighs for him again. 

Yet, of course. 

Makarov tossed your legs over his shoulders and locked them in place with his arms. 

Of course, this wasn’t actually a reward. 

When his mouth descended on your overstimulated nerves you squealed. Hopelessly twisting and writhing against his unrelenting embrace. Wrapping his lips around your tender clit as he pressed the vibrator harder inside you. It didn't take long to draw you to the edge again. Fighting the painful pleasure as you sobbed openly now. You knew it was too good to be true, how many times has he taught you that?

Wailing through your second orgasm, you tried to wiggle away. Twisting against your binds, your wrists aching. You couldn't breathe, not between the collar and his relentless tongue. Makarov’s attack on your sex is ruthless, as he always has been. The more you struggled, the tighter he held you. Ignoring your protests in favor of his prize, you. Your addicting submission, desperation and most importantly, your forgiveness. It made him greedy, drunk on his power over you. So he drank and drank until he pulled a third and violent high from you. Squirting messily into his open mouth, thighs squeezing around his ears.

The moment he relented, you dropped limp. Panting like a dog and dazed, barely aware that Makarov had stepped off the bed to remove his clothes. 

“Ты так хорошо справился, ангел.” You heard him say, distantly. Like you were underwater. 

The next thing you registered being the freedom of your hands, tingling as blood finally moved into them freely. Though you barely had time to acclimate as he crawled on top of you. Painfully hard cock resting against your stomach. 

“Sir..?” You whined. Broken and desperate for more, less, him. You weren’t sure. But you knew, whatever it was, he knew, and could give it to you. 

Shushing you uncharacteristically gently, he dragged himself through your slick to your raw opening.  Pausing only to pull the vibrator from your sex and tossing it behind him, still buzzing. 

Vladimir filled you completely. Your walls still tender and throbbing from your last orgasms, making you feel as if he were spearing you. You felt truly flayed and open for him to use. And Makarov took full advantage. Starting a brutal pace, pulling nearly all the way out before slamming back in. You reached out, your manicured nails finding purchase on his back. Scratching his tattoos as your other hand steadied you against the headboard. Barely preventing him from fucking you through it. 

Vladimir’s head fell into your neck, lips spilling praise. A sloppy mix of Russian and English you couldn't even begin to decipher. Not when he was filling you so full and so deep. Your thighs locked around his hips. You wanted him deeper, closer. You never wanted him to leave. You knew what he did when he was gone. 

Wet fingers met your sopping clit, at a perfectly painful angle. Screaming, you tried to force his hand away, but your arms refused to cooperate. Flailing against him uselessly. “Come with me, шлюха.” He snarled, biting into your neck harshly below your collar. Regardless of your protests, you did. The moment you felt him fill you with his own release. With the ringing in your ears, you couldn't tell if you were screaming.  

Disoriented and… wet, you awoke. You could hear the bath filling as you were lifted into strong arms. “I’m very proud of you.” Makarov murmured. Slowly making his way to the bathroom and settling you in the tub. 

You relaxed for a moment as he left the room. Allowing the warm water to soothe your sore muscles. You reached for your neck and found the collar gone, only tender skin left in its wake. You felt more drunk now than you had when you returned home. The endorphins and adrenaline in your blood making your vision blur.  

When Makarov returned, proudly naked, he held a bottle of water to your lips. Which you greedily drank, slowly feeling your brain return to you. This was when he was most kind, most generous, most unlike himself. When he was freshly drunk on his own pleasure. Slowly he slid in behind you in the tub. Chest pressed to your back, arms holding you close. 

“Thank you, sir.” You sighed. Relaxing fully into him. 

You felt him smile behind you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Of course, I want my ангел to have the most… pleasant birthday.” Slowly his hand trailed down your stomach, reaching your hips before you even thought to protest. Fingers finding your still throbbing clit with practiced precision. Like it was his mission. 

“I- I can’t, wait… Please, sir!” You squealed, twisting against his arm, wrapped tight under your breasts. Water sloshing out of the tub and splattering across the floor. 

“You can, ангел, and you will. One more.”  His tone left no room for argument, though you were well past heeding warnings. Fighting the climax he intended to bring you, until the very last second. Screaming and thrashing in his arms as the agonizing pleasure wracked your body. Leaving you limp and breathless against him. 

“I knew you could do it, good girl.” Makarov purred, running his hands soothingly across your body. 

“Happy birthday, Моя любовь.” 

Translations:

Ангел - Angel

Да - Yes

моя любимая шлюха - My favorite whore

Повернись - Turn around

Всегда такая хорошая девочка - Always such a good girl

Я скучал по тебе - I missed you

мой питомец - My pet

Хороший - good

Хорошенькая маленькая шлюшка - Pretty little slut

Ты так хорошо справился, ангел - You did so well, angel

Шлюха - Whore

Моя любовь - My Love 

[littlemissclandestine]

Can you make soft Vladimir makarov? Please?

Hello my dear Anon!

Of course I can 😊 - thank you so much for the ask! Wasn't sure whether you wanted MWIII or OG MW Makarov so I just went with MWIII. I'm also only comfortable writing for a female reader so hope that's okay. I hope these are to your standards and make you happy, honey. Enjoy! <3

Soft!Vladimir Makarov x Reader

WARNINGS: Mentions of sex, suggestive, MDNI, 18+ only

🖤 Soft!Mak who, initially, seems like a cold, distant man who isn't capable of loving anyone, only interested in his work but who has a soft spot for women like you

🖤 Soft!Mak who gently tilts your head up to meet his eyes, his calloused thumb on your chin, stroking it as he whispers lowly how precious you are, his lips curving into a smile as his eyes dart from your left eye to your right and back

🖤 Soft!Mak who uses terms of endearment in Russian regularly such as любимый (beloved), Дорогая (dear), Любимая (darling), Котёнок (kitten), and ангел (angel) - especially loves calling you 'my beloved' or my angel'

[i most definitely have got these wrong as i don't know Russian so someone please correct me if need be!]

🖤 Soft!Mak who loves running his hands up and down your sides as you stand in front of him while he's sat down, looking up at you

🖤 Soft!Mak who gives you that knowing smirk when you wear skirts or tight dresses and just has to compliment your shape and how stunning you look, not being able to keep his hands off you

🖤 Soft!Mak who tends to get possessive when any of his bodyguards or anybody at all looks at you in a way only he's allowed to -> (He may also beat their faces to a pulp, the skin on his knuckles broken, his crisp white shirt now stained with their blood, his face too. As you try and pull him away, he'll spit on them and curse at them. Yes he definitely gets jealous...)

🖤 Soft!Mak who takes your hands in his, holding them together, cocooning them, giving you reassurance everything will work out and he'll be back soon

🖤 Soft!Mak who kisses your forehead tenderly, closing his eyes, his hands on either side of your head before he ruffles your hair when he leaves, cracking a joke to lighten the mood when he sees you crying or saying he'll treat you to something special when he gets back

🖤 Soft!Mak who shows you how much he appreciates you for sticking by him through thick and thin, knowing the questionable things he does daily and putting that aside because you love him

🖤 Soft!Mak who sometimes takes his stress and anger out on you but would never lay a hand on you like that because how could he?

🖤 Soft!Mak who instead, prefers some time apart but only a little. You walk into the main room in your hotel or the living room in your house in the morning, finding it filled with hundreds of bouquets of flowers and your favourite chocolates and a card addressed to you, a handwritten letter detailing how much you mean to him and that he'll be back to talk things through. -> (Timing is everything with this man)

🖤 Soft!Mak who constantly wants to provide for you, spoiling you with the money he brings in, not hesitating to buy bespoke, elegant, matching jewellery for you to wear in his presence

🖤 Soft!Mak who will use as many burner phones as he needs to to call you, telling you how much he missed your voice, holding the phone away for a moment when he starts choking on tears, looking up and blinking quickly to get rid of the tears, clearing his throat and resuming the call, his voice seemingly normal

🖤 Soft!Mak who would rather keep his business with the outside world hidden from you as best he can because really you're his world, the only world he wants to be in, the only one he really wants to focus on. 'The less you know the better' kind of thing because he has to protect his woman

🖤 Soft!Mak who will, however, give you basic firearms training in his private shooting range. Just the two of you. Him standing behind you, hips pressing into yours, his hot breath tickling the shell of your ear and neck, a hand squeezing your hips as the other arm adjusts your stance and giving you a kiss on your neck when you hit your targets

🖤 Soft!Mak who will bury his face into the junction between your neck and shoulder, inhaling your scent and leaving a hickey as he wraps his arms around your lower body, hugging you from behind as you both look at the view from the balcony

🖤 Soft!Mak who doesn't mind PDA, but nothing too extreme, reminding you and everyone watching who you belong to, not thinking it's a sign of weakness but instead strength

🖤 Soft!Mak who has no guilt when it comes to the bloodshed he causes, but feels incredibly guilty when he leaves you for just one moment

🖤 Soft!Mak who needs to feel you on him all the time and touching you whenever he gets a chance to, the expression in the eyes of this trained killer turning into one of pure love and admiration

🖤 Soft!Mak who will pull you down by your wrist, causing you to fall into his lap so he can kiss you softly, his fingers digging into your hips and back, tongue intertwining with yours as you both fight for dominance

🖤 Soft!Mak whose ability to compartmentalise and keep emotions out of things is at serious risk when you came into his life because you're all that's on his mind

🖤 Soft!Mak who treats you like the rarest, most valuable thing in the entire universe, doing everything with the utmost care when it comes to you

🖤 Soft!Mak who loves you for you, admiring your strength, and treats you how a man should, his actions exemplary (even though he is often away but he makes up for it)

🖤 Soft!Mak who loves your vulnerability too, reminding you that you're both a team and to work through things together

🖤 Soft!Mak who never makes you feel like a burden on his shoulders

🖤 Soft!Mak who notices how you tend not to bother him when he's preoccupied, his gloved hands on his hips as he's talking to someone, his head tilting to the side and noticing you hunched over, immediately walking up to you because he feels bad for not spending as much time as he wants to with. Him kneeling down in front of you, removing his gloves, his hands caressing your cheeks as he asks what's on your mind with a warm expression on his face

🖤 Soft!Mak who takes your soft hands to his lips in the middle of a conversation, kissing them while maintaining eye contact with you, listening to you fully

🖤 Soft!Mak who interlocks your fingers with his in the backseat of an SUV and has an arm around you or his hand on your thigh, your head on his shoulder when you're on the run and need to relocate, being driven by a chauffeur to the next place you call home

🖤 Soft!Mak who always wonders what he did to deserve you

🖤 Soft!Mak who is full of surprises, showing you his experience in every field ;)

🖤 Soft!Mak who is big on consent, only engaging in anything sexual if you're in the mood, taking his time, talking you through it, guiding you through it, getting rougher later if you're comfortable with it

🖤 Soft!Mak who chuckles when he hears you moan or scream his name, whispering things in Russian directly into your ear that turn you on even more...

"Hehe you like that my love?...Fuck you're killing me kitten nghh look at you, so beautiful, so...sexy."

🖤 Soft!Mak who, in a mad rush, fuelled by the adrenaline and cortisol running through his veins and the fact he might not make it back before a mission, where he has a standoff with TF141, asks that million dollar question in a hotel, not his ideal proposal location but anyways he slips that ring onto your finger, lips meeting yours harshly with desire, as tears stain his cheek, saying he loves you repeatedly, cupping your cheeks as your foreheads touch and he pulls you into a quick tight hug

🖤 Soft!Mak who, when the opposition are closing in on his location, will grab your hand tightly, running through corridors on high alert, a pistol in the other as he shouts commands to his soldiers, glass breaking, bullets flying as he shields you from it all

🖤 Soft!Mak who directs you out of the area first as your safety is priority, you bring him more joy than anything in the world, the only thing he truly needs and if he lost you knowing he had a part to play, he'd never be the same again -> (would probably make his reign of terror worse, wanting to brutally torture or kill the rest of our tf141 lads in cold blood as he looks for someone else to blame even though deep down he knows some of it lies with him - I LIVE FOR ANGST. Can you tell?)

🖤 Soft!Mak who remembers your talks together in bed and how you wouldn't want him to lash out in grief and be impulsive like that or seek so called 'revenge' in the first place even though you knew what you were getting into when you began dating him

🖤 Soft!Mak who starts to question whether his cause is worth it because of the danger he's putting you in, trying to push those thoughts aside because he's THE Vladimir Makarov, the ultranationalist, the terrorist, the man whose authority and work should not be questioned by any being or they'd face the consequences...-> (the internal conflict mwahaha! *rubs hands together*)

🖤 Soft!Mak who is 110% loyal to you and you only

🖤 Soft!Mak who thinks twice about everything now that he has you

dividers by @saradika-graphics <33

Next time, don't be shy anon - YOLO. Please know this is a safe space, my love. 🙃 (Also lowkey almost fell for him a second time writing these. First time was OG!Makarov, however. Yeesh...dear God, please not again. NEVER AGAIN bdjcdjsksk) -Star ☆

[blingblong55]

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

[glittergoblinzz]

Slightly inspired by the little Naga!Makarov x Witch!Reader scenario @/frogchiro did

But instead of a Witch!Reader, Reader is just an ordinary Veterinarian who just so happens to find an injured cobra in the woods behind their house. Using the right protection and tools, they bring the snake inside their home to tend to its injuries.

Reader then sets up a little basking area in their living room for the snake to rest up in as it recovers. No way was Reader going to let this snake die on their hands.

When Reader gets up the next morning, they absolutely did not expect to find a butt ass naked man on their couch with only the couch blanket covering their lap.

Sensing their confusion, Naga!Makarov transforms into his natural monster form from his human form, his human legs morphing into a whooping 34ft long tail that had black scales and a white underbelly.

Also, being a stubborn bastard that he is, Makarov refuses to leave Reader's home. They were intending to keep him in his serpent form while he recovers were they not? Can't you see that he's still clearly faking in being wounded?

Congrats, Reader. You got yourself a new monster pet

[pricescancerstickk]

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.

[glittergoblinz]

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

[ateliersss]

Call of Duty Masterlist

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

Cpt. John Price

⇨ Not Your Fault Summary: When you and your captain, John Price, share your usual drink at night, the alcohol loosens your tongue a little too much...

Vladimir Makarov

⇨ Where Do You Think You're Going? Summary: You try to leave him...

Simon "Ghost" Riley

⇨ Favourites - Part 1 Summary: Falling in love with someone as stunning and selfless as you as a man like him with an unstable life and an emotionally distant personality was foolish, hopeless, because how could you ever feel the same?

⇨ Favourites - Part 2 Summary: Falling in love with someone as brave and lonely as Simon Riley as a woman with your profession was foolish, hopeless, because how could he ever feel the same?

⇨ Maybe not Now, maybe not Tomorrow, but Someday (in planning) Summary: You and Simon were 18 years old when you had to wait five minutes which felt like an eternity for the answer to whether your lives would change forever or not. Both of you were hoping for a different outcome.

⇨ Main Masterlist here