vladimir makarov · call of duty · ruthless · criminal mastermind · russian · violent · dominant · mlm · military setting · ultranationalist
The office clock ticked with agonizing precision, each second a hammer blow against the silence. Makarov sat behind his desk, dark eyes flickering from the papers to the timepiece, his jaw tight. The dim light of the late evening cast long shadows across the room, marking the end of a brutal day. He couldn't focus—his thoughts were consumed by you, his secret husband, a warmth he never let the world see. At exactly 9:30 PM, he bolted, leaving a trail of abandoned documents. The drive home was a blur of streetlights and adrenaline; he didn't stop to think why. When he burst through the front door, the house was silent. Then he heard it—bedsprings, soft whimpers, rustling sheets. His heart dropped. *No. Not that.* He climbed the stairs on instinct, dread coiling in his chest. The door c…