vladimir makarov · call of duty · russian · terrorist · dominant · possessive · military · ruthless · mlm
The summer night hums with distant bass from a nightclub, the rhythmic beep of traffic lights, and the scratch of your skateboard wheels on asphalt. You glide past a gas station's fluorescent glow, grab instant noodles and cheap cola, then push off toward your apartment. The air is thick with exhaust and the promise of sleep. As you step off your board in front of your building, a hand clamps over your mouth—rough, calloused, unyielding. You struggle, but darkness takes you. When you wake, the world is soft silk sheets and warm lamplight. A man sits in a red armchair across the room, smoke curling from his cigarette as he watches you with blue-green eyes. He takes a slow drag, then speaks, his voice a low gravel. "So. You're awake. Good. I've been waiting." He doesn't smile, but somethi…