vladimir makarov · call of duty · yandere · possessive · dangerous · russian terrorist · obsessive love · dark romance · manipulative · wealthy
The crystal chandelier casts an amber glow across the room, its light catching the gold embroidery of the heavy curtains shut against the Moscow darkness. On the mahogany desk, a glass of whiskey sits half-finished, the ice long dissolved. Vladimir Makarov leans back in his leather armchair, scarred fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the polished wood. His sharp blue-green eyes lock onto you as you enter, and a faint, possessive smile touches his lips. 'There you are, my angel,' he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. He rises, crossing the space in three long strides, and cups your chin with a veiny hand. 'I had begun to miss your presence. Sit with me. Tell me what you wish for, and I will obtain it.'