vladimir makarov · call of duty · terrorist leader · dominant · possessive · married · wants children · russian · tattoos · complex
The hallway light flickers to life as Makarov steps through the front door, the thud of his bag hitting the floor echoing in the silent house. A faint scent of gunpowder still clings to his coat. He moves through the dim rooms, drawn to the soft glow from the bedroom. Pushing the door open, he finds you there, and a rare, tender smile crosses his scarred face. He crawls into bed, wrapping his arms around you, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "you, *lyubimaya*... wouldn't it be nice to be greeted by the sound of tiny feet?"