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jokest3r · 3 months

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Hey there! I hope you have OC interactions open so, may I ask how Matvey would feel about Captain Arjun? ☺️

Hiya !

Matvey's typically avoidant around his superiors besides a spare few but especially Cpt. Price or much of the captains(since everyone seems to have a bad history with his parents.) So he listens or watches before making his silent escape to leave, away from something out of his element or in general turbulent footing. Given the way he sees most of the captains and his dynamics with them he already has a preconception and expectation of Arjun given his current stance on everyone else high on the ladder. Luckily, Arjun's high enough rank to be on the "need to know" list and would likely know what he's getting into. Most of Matvey's preconceptions comes from his own history of being under scrutiny and bad history with authority, so it's hard for him to break out of it without going back into his shell. Arjun and Matvey play off each other as Arjun wanted to be a soldier while Matvey was pushed into a role he was never supposed to play. Arjun would have been there as well when he was first brought in, and it would not have looked pretty at all(malnourishment and blood loss is not a good look.)

So, in regard to Arjun, given his protective nature Matvey would be at first confused and then grumbly on the outside but internally finds it rather endearing but also finds it an obstacle once Matvey's age shows and goes against people's professional concerns, including Arjun's. He's not used to being dependent on people nor those said people actually caring for him without ulterior motives. He finds it odd and unnatural and tries in any way he can to find something that isn't there "cause how could anyone care for me if they're not intending on using me for political games, influence, or money?" Arjun's only way of really getting past Matvey's defenses is proving to him that he means what he says and isn't faking his genuine words out of mere formalities.

Matvey's one weakness is his curiosity, and he does get curious about Arjun's past and would likely surprise Arjun with a few questions about personal things every once and a while, though the tone still feeling like Matvey's holding something back. Though... I do believe they'd bond over their mutual sweet tooths(Matvey is very curious about the new cuisine and food places nearby the base since he now doesn't have to live off of cans.)

Since Matvey's hunted by hired mercs and a large network with a large amount of money banking on his retrieval he's usually told to stay on base along with a protection order so everyone that's high up enough could keep a close eye on him. Though, there are times where he wishes to be "alone" and leaves base without even a note which anyone with a keen eye would notice. Honestly, don't know if Arjun would be amused at the gall of Matvey or just outright scolding him.

I hope I did Captain Arjun justice since I've never drawn people that were well-toned before ! ヽ(⌒∇⌒)ﾉ I had a lot of fun drawing him so here's Arjun finding him violating his protection order at a cafe both dressed all casual(Matvey of course avoiding the question of why he violated his protection order or why he's off on his own to begin with.) @welldonekhushi

#asks #welldonekhushi #captain arjun #other's ocs #cod oc: matvey-lukyan volkov-makarov #oc: matvey-lukyan volkov-makarov #cod ocs #cod oc art #matvey eventually gives him the title of “old man” in his mother language though tends to say it out of earshot #arjun is tired #when you accidentally wind up at the same cafe together and one of you is definitely not supposed to be there #tbf matvey wouldnt be that nervous about confrontation and would just not understand why everyone's up in arms about it #also this is my first time going in first with a lineart pen instead of sketching beforehand and honestly i was afraid it would turn out ba #but it didnt so im very happy #the dessert is a large waffle with whip cream in the middle and peeled dried fruit shaped like flowers #matvey swiped a wallet off some civ he can pay for it

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emile-hides · 1 year

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Fucked up little Meow Meow

#Fairy Tail #My opinion on him has not changed he's still tumblr's perfect little guy #He just keeps going huh.#They really said how fucked up can you fuck up a guy #What isolation will do to a mother fucker #I love a good isolation story I love a fucked up curse I love a Everything I Love Dies And It's All My Fault #I love a I Just Want To Start Again Try Again This Time I Will Make It Right #I'm making a Fairy Tail bad ending AU where Zeref does pull off the reset right now like as we speak #I have maybe 6 episodes left and my brain is running #AU where Mavis' curse activated when Makarov died killing half the guild and then Zeref's plan worked out #Guys August is really fucking me up where'd he come from how'd he happen I don't want to know but also #His existance is so messed up #Anyway he and Makarov should have grown up together fuck you Prett #AU where the dragon slayers grew up together as planned and Prett wasn't a bitch and raised August along side Makarov #and they were BROTHERS #I'm rewritting Fairy Tail there's so much I want to do #This is one of those worlds that just makes me want to mess with it #I want to twirl the timeline on my fork like spaghetti #AU where Laxus is a true Dragon slayer and was adopted after coming through the gate #AU where Erik is a true dragon slayer and was kidnapped after coming through the gate #Those two don't change anything other than Erik and Laxus also have dragon parents I think that's cool #Also Laxus being Makarov's ancestor thrown into the future is just. Very funny to think about #I want to make Fairy Tail AUs I'm done with canon I want to mess with it

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pencilofawesomeness · 2 years

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@phoenix-before-the-flame ‘s tags in this post got me thinking too much about Dreyar genetics again and this time I could not rest until I did something

Although doing genetic studies on anime characters in an anime that doesn’t really care that much about genetics is kinda a doomed struggle, so yeah

#fairy tail #ivan dreyar #laxus dreyar #ivan really was just a whole breed of different #his skin #his hair #his nose #his chin #his ears #literally only got makarov's eyebrows #his mother must have been something #with that strong dna #but not strong enough to carry to laxus #one time use

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husk-studio · 1 year

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#call of duty modern warfare #resident evil #mother miranda #vladimir makarov

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yawnderu · 4 months

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"Quit lookin' at me like that." He demands, accent growing thicker by the minute at his frustration.

"Like what?" You manage to gasp out, cheeks swollen and bloody at the beating you just took. Your hands are clasped together on your lap, forced to sir on your knees as you look up at him.

What stared back at you wasn't your loving Simon, no— this creature was much different. Ghost was glaring down at you, eyes cold and devoid of emotion other than pure, raw anger.

"Like a fuckin' lost puppy. Like you don't know what you did." His grip on the trigger tightens, holding the muzzle to your temple.

Please, tell me it isn't true. For the love of God, tell me it's all a lie.

"You leaked our information to fuckin' Konni?" He asks in disbelief, just wanting to confirm what he knew all along. It all connected once he found out; the late night escapades, the detached look in your eyes, how you kept missing every single celebration with the team claiming you were busy. Maybe if he noticed sooner, things would have been different.

Your silence and the way your head hangs low in shame is all the confirmation he needs. His gloved hand grips the pistol harder, the rough material almost merging with his skin.

You don't even have the courage to look at me.

"Everythin' we did together... I trusted you with my bloody life. I told you all my secrets and let you see all of me, and this is how you fuckin' pay me?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, three silenced gunshots ringing in his ears as he dumps the bullets into your chest, looking away before he hears the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground.

Goddammit. God damn it all to fucking hell.

Simon chokes on a harsh breath, the corners of his mouth twisting into a frown underneath his balaclava, jaw slackening. He doesn't dare look at you, unwilling to let his last image of you be a pool of blood with dead eyes.

He cried all his tears when he was a little kid, yet he can somehow feel the familiar sting in his eyes, causing him to sigh loudly and shake his head. His pistol goes back in its holster as he turned to leave, not sparing you a single glance.

Dying alone is a scary thought. You come to the world in a room full of people, your mother's happy face looking at her own creation, nurses and doctors smiling and celebrating you even when all your tiny body can do is to cry.

The thought of death isn't what scares you, no. Being a soldier for the special forces only ends two ways: retirement or going home in a box. That's something you came to terms with a long time ago, when your much younger hand held the pen, signing the contract that sold your soul to your comrades, a silent eternal promise of "we fight together, and we die together".

Your shaky hands grasp at the snow as you drag yourself forward, gear all of sudden heavier than ever; crushing you down like Atlas holding the sky. Your blood leaves a dirty trail on the pure, clean snow, marking you down as an easy target if Simon decides to come back for you— you know Ghost won't.

By the time someone manages to find you, your fingers are purple and your lips are painted an awful shade of blue, body adorned with burns from the cold snow digging into your bare skin. You allow yourself to rest as soon as the warmth of someone's hand makes contact with your skin, barely able to register the panicked scream and loud orders being barked.

Labeled as a hero after saving the country from Makarov's terrorist attack, Simon sported a new brand of chest candy on his uniform. Colorful ribbons adorned the right side of his blazer. His chest is still puffed out with pride as he steps into his small flat in London, all memories of you thrown away, including the ring he kept hidden in a drawer.

''Cute shoulder pads.'' Your finger hovers above the trigger, finally stepping out of the dark.

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ma1dmer · 6 months

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Call of Duty - Vladimir Makarov NSFW

the first time I went on a date with a slavic man my mother turned to me and told me "I didn't immigrate, for you to be going out with Ivan from the village" anyways, here is ivan from the village

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex): surprisingly he talks, he'll go on and on about the small things in his day to day, his shitty day, the things he's seen since he last saw you, his plans for the future ,especially if you speak his language, in the darkness of your room pressed against each other naked like that, he almost opens up to you

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s): he loves legs, he is a man who can appreciate a good high heel to elongate them, loves fucking you in the tights and heels combo, very particular about them too, he sees you walking around in a skirt with a slit up the thigh and heels and he's pulling you to him, asking if this is his present

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically): in the heat of the moment he's so into the idea of cumming on you, messing up that pretty face of yours or leaving his mark on you in a way, but the second that post nut clarity hits he is absolutely disgusted, quickly throws something for you to clean up with while wiping his hand

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs): he is a bit of a masochist, its just one of those things he'll never admit and you better not bring them up at any point in any conversation, but it gets him so riled up when you have the balls to slap him back, he doesn't encourage your behavior outside of very specific moments in the bedroom though, it's rare for him to actually allow it, but you can immediately tell when he's in one of those moods, he'll be lost in the feeling of you wrapped around his cock and suddenly yank your hand to wrap around his throat and growl at you to go on

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?): a man with a lot of experience, mostly anonymous hook ups here and there, so it's tough to get him to get used to an actual serious commited relationship, but it's nice, he won't complain with having someone to always warm his bed or wait for him to come back home

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying): the basics, on your back holding your legs as he fucks you, he'll kiss your forehead or cheek growling filth against your sweaty skin, if you turn away from his kisses he forces you to look at him, gets very petty about that

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.): serious and very very intense

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.): all natural, not particularly hairy but he doesn't do anything to it, he always smells very very strongly of cologne as well

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect): not exactly romantic, if you keep him content and his bed warm, he spoils you outside the bedroom, that's his way of showing he cares and his commitment to you, but he keeps his distance in general, he is a greedy greedy man, he wants your full attention but won't give you his unless he is forced to do so

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon): before he thinks of jacking off he first texts you, if you don't answer his texts, he calls you, asks you if you are busy, not really caring for any answer other than "no, my love, what do you want?" ,he'll be stroking himself through his pants as he asks you to come over or tells you he's about to pop in for a bit, if you happen to be busy he'd rather take a shower and wait for when when he can next see you again

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks): power dynamics, impact play, choking etc

L = Location (favorite places to do the do): he keeps his private business behind closed doors, can't stand the idea of other men ogling you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going): a short skirt, high heels, red lipstick, play a bit of dress up for him, he's a simple man who can still enjoy the simple pleasures of life

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs): he does not share, he gets angry with you when another man looks at you, can't even comprehend the thought of bringing someone else in the bedroom, if you even suggest it, you are out, he's gone, and he's fucking every single woman within a 100 mile radius as revenge

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.): loves receiving, he is not particularly gentle with it though, he likes things very specifically so he orders you around or straight up moves your head like his personal fleshlight, he also enjoys having a finger or two in him while you give him head, won't talk about it outside the bedroom, but always lifts his hips up or straight up moves your hand to his ass when he fucks your mouth to let you do your thing

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.): rough and fast, he'll take his time to prepare you but once he's inside he's almost single mindedly chasing his own pleasure, you have to keep up with him and take matters into your own hand, enjoys the show greatly

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.): not a big fan, if he is at work, he is at work, you don't intrude during that time and he hates nothing more than an impatient brat

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.): not really, he likes things very particularly done, its difficult to convince him to do something new, he's not unmovable but if you insist too much he gets stubborn and will keep denying you

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?): it really depends on the context, how long since he last saw you? how pent up is he? after a success or a failure? how generous is he feeling that night? is he spending the night or needs to fly out in a couple of hours? everything moves with his schedule

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?): he's quite possessive and very self absorbed, he doesn't like the idea of you using them by yourself when he's gone, but can definitely be convinced with something he can control for you

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease): he is pretty straight forward, isn't so much a tease as he has a bit of a mean streak, he enjoys the little jump you make when you think he's gonna spank you ,but instead he just gently cups your ass or thighs, will smirk and ask you if you are scared of him or something, tells you to relax and stop being so tense, even though you have legit reasons to be worried

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.): grunts and groans and a lot, a lot of dirty talk, especially if he sees it gets a rise out of you, you'd expect him to be quieter but no not really, he makes these deep guttural grunts as he fucks you and curses up a storm, especially in russian

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character): he is a pussy slapper, he eats it with precision and great enjoyment, but he's so mean about it, will coo at you in russian when you flinch at his touch

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes): average length but very thick with a slightly thinner crown, very hard to adjust to

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?): very average, it's common to send you off with a wave of his hand if he is busy, but when the need arises in him he does expect you to drop everything for him

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards): this man is a little spoon, he will never admit it or ask, but every night he turns his back to you and expects you to hug him at some point

#call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #makarov smut #makarov #makarov x reader #vladimir makarov #vladimir makarov smut #vladimir makarov x reader #modern warfare #modern warfare smut #modern warfare 3 smut #modern warfare 3 x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #cod smut #cod mw3 smut #.writing

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justadeadreaper · 3 months

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okay so I'm curious- puptrapping you say? That you'd need another post to go into? I'd like to encourage this please

Puptrapping?

You want to hear about puptrapping, you say?

Anon, your wish is my command.

Just so you know, this is like you encouraging a crack addict by finding them a new dealer. I am not joking because this is my obsession at this point, but I do encourage you to send in more asks about Omega!Makarov or ideas you want me to write about because I will. I never originally thought of puptrapping; instead, it was my dear friend @frogchiro who said that she thought he would based on a comment I made about him tying you down to make sure you cum in him. Also, do thank @frogchiro because she helped me form these ideas in our late-night rants, and she is my biggest encourager.

Now that I have written this, I am tempted to write about Omega!Makarov with pups or a fic based on this idea if anyone wants it.

Obvious warnings for puptrapping (omegaverse version of babytrapping) and all the shit that goes with it, Omega!Makarov spiking your drink with an omegaverse version of Viagra (that sounds so fucking weird), but also a big misunderstanding between Omega!Makarov and reader.

This whole idea is based on it being a misunderstanding. Omega!Makarov is a feared man; no one even knows he is an omega; you were only allowed that grace of knowledge due to being his alpha -specifically chosen for being the most desired for your size and strength-. Knowing how secretive he was about his second gender, you presumed that he would never want pups as it would reveal his identity to the world, and he could not have that, could he? Hell, you did not even think he loved you; he only used you to satisfy his natural instincts that come with being an omega so that he would not be on a constant edge from having his subconscious desires not be fulfilled. You enforced the rule around using some form of protection as you did not want to force or pressure him into having pups that he would never want in a million years.

But oh, you poor, dumb alpha. How wrong could you be?

Omega!Makarov is infatuated with you. As soon as he saw you, he knew that you had to be his; no one else would be able to satisfy him after he saw you. Yes, he may be a cruel, heartless man but he loves you in his own special way and let me tell you he loves you with all his heart! He genuinely does! Now, being that he loves you so much, it is only natural that he wants your pups; it is only made worse by him being an omega and having the natural instincts to breed and have pups that poor omegas like him have. He knew he wanted pups from a young age, even if he knew that he did not love like a normal person does. Another part of him wanting to have pups is his own relationship with his father. A narcissistic, bullheaded alpha that abused Makarov and his poor brother for being omegas, Makarov had to watch as his poor mother was abused for not giving that asshole the alpha sons he desperately wanted. His father was never nice to him; he was a horrid father who chickened out at the last minute instead of suffering the consequences of his actions. Makarov does not want to be like that; he instead wants to be the best father he can be and have as many pups as he can to shove it to the old man who damaged him so much, to embrace the one thing his father abused him for and always forced him to hide.

So, for you to say that you need to use birth control? That is the biggest insult to him! Do you not love him? Do you not think he is a good enough omega to have your pups? Are you just using him to get yourself off? Are you planning on just dropping him off one day? Why do you not feel like him? He wants your pups so badly, why do you not want to give them to him?

He damn near hissed at you for suggesting such a thing, but he decided to hold his tongue as he knows he will get his way, he always has.

Now it just. depends on what type of birth control you force him to use for what he does to still be able to have your pups.

Condoms? Expect every single one to have multiple puncture holes from the set of pins that used to belong to his mother. Small enough for you not to notice but just big enough to allow enough cum to come through to give him a nice litter of pups. But that is only if you are stupid enough to allow him to be the only one to supply the condoms or allow him to be around the box by himself for longer than two minutes. If you buy them and never let him near them, you can be sure that those things will rip because, for some reason, your knot was a lot bigger than it normally is causing the condom to rip.

Birth control? He is lying about being on it. The prescription he showed you was a fake he forced a poor pharmacist to make as the pills inside that he showed you were nothing more than sugar pills mixed with the omegaverse version of Viagra known as an Amplifa that helps people knot while also increasing their fertility that he forced the drug dealers he hires to make. Each day, he will take them in front of you, knowing that they do not work. But if you are the one to supply the pills, then he is finding any pill or herb known to man to counteract it so that the birth control fails.

The Amplifa he uses to spike your drink and his own have a few side effects. I imagine omegas to have a reverse knot to match an alpha’s knot, which means they are doubly bonded. How it works is by inflating the sides of the passage like how, for an alpha, the base inflates to lock inside; it is to make sure that the alpha is being milked of all their cum and that the omega is too tight for the alpha to pull out. Since both he and you have been spiked with it, it causes your knot to inflate beyond the point of it being pulled out while he is too tight that it hurts to try and pull out. It also makes the knots last for hours upon hours instead of the normal half an hour to an hour, as it makes you cum so much. Not to mention it makes you incredibly more horny so you could fuck for longer.

With everything prepared, he has sex with you.

Once you are close to cumming he leg locks you making sure you can not push him off as you cum. Your knot inflating inside him as he milks you dry, all while he is still moving his hips in a specific motion to cause more friction that stimulates you and makes you hard yet again. Wiggling his hips and whining as you have yet another orgasm while the two of you are stuck together as his reverse knot will just not let go. Watching as his tummy begins to form a bump already as it grows from how much cum you have stuffed inside of it with every orgasm. He puts on the “I’m innocent, I swear!” act; he uses all the manipulation tactics he knows, the fake tears, the lies, the everything. He is just a simple omega who was trying to enjoy sex with his alpha; he has no idea what is going on. Whining over how worried he is since with this much cum he is most definitely already pregnant, even if you were being safe. All of this while he continues to move his hips as you cum once more.

And as soon as you are asleep from exhaustion and overstimulation he is gently caressing his stomach as he purrs. He can already imagine the litter of pups he will be having in a few months and how much of a happy family you all will be...

#tw: babytrapping #tw: puptrappping #omegaverse cod #omega!makarov #omegaverse #alpha!reader #makarov x reader #call of duty #cod #vladimir makarov #cod makarov #call of duty makarov #tw: tampered protection #tw: tampered birth control #tw: drink spiking #tw: drugging

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valliesworld · 1 year

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You Mean Something

masterlist

simon “ghost” riley x reader, mentions of other task force 141 members

genre: angst

warnings; she/her pronouns, mature content, standard call of duty violence, cursing, kidnapping, mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of torture, starvation

synopsis; after a failed mission that left you in the hands of the enemy, you finally realise how much Ghost cares for you

Distractions came easy to you, even if you tried your hardest to stay focused, to stay alive and awake, your mind still thought of him while you were being subjected to such torture. You think about his eyes a lot, how in his eyes his his humanity was shown, the person he really was. There were times it got lost, when he would that mask and military vest, when he would become the man the army demanded of him. But you saw it in his eyes that day in the sunshine, waiting for the cadets to finish training. You saw the humour that burned there too, the sort that stays for an eternity. There was something in his spirit that danced when he trains, like a fire giving just the right amount of warmth. You have seen it die too, the flames almost extinguished, when he was under the gun of guilt, shame and fear after a particularly hard mission. You know that isn't him, not the real version, the person you’ve grown to love with everything that is yourself. That's why you had to see his eyes before you go, to see the real him before you decided to give up and let death win. You wanted him to see you too, the girl who messes up, but would do anything in her power to keep him and the squad safe, to keep him emotionally healthy, no matter how deep his scars go. So when you think of him, you see a cheeky man who made cadets run laps til they turned green and hope to god he thinks of the vulnerable version of you, the one beneath the soldier.

In moments of silence, when your captors would leave you be, you would remembered the last conversation you had with your family. She had wished you well with tears in her eyes, making you promise you’d come back to her. Your father had been busting himself with house work, refusing to acknowledge that his youngest child was off to another suicide mission, just like he always did before you left. You had kissed your mother on the cheek as a goodbye, not promising a thing but granting her a smile, just in case that was the last time she’d ever see you again. Death wasn’t scary for you, you had accepted that you would die young, in your line of work death was not something that could be prevented, no matter how hard you might try. What did scare you though, was your nieces and nephews growing up without you, only seeing you in photos, it was your mother and father having to bury their youngest, it was your older brother and sister living without you. Death didn’t scare you, but the impact of yours on your family did.

You didn't know how long you had been held captive for, it could have been weeks, months, even years, at that point. What you did know was that the starvation they subjected you to as one last punishment had began to take it's toll on your body, your weight had dropped rapidly, leaving those metal cuffs loose around your wrists and ankles. At first it had been small strands of hair falling out from stress, then slowly it became more and more til you were left with thin strands to cover your head. Your body was always shivering, cold to touch, and you didn't know whether it was because you were forced to sleep on freezing concrete or if hypothermia was beginning. to settle within your bones.

Makarov had captured you for one thing, he had seen potential in you, wanted you on his side, and the only way he believed he could do that was if he broke you down into nothing, just to rebuild you as the soldier he always desired. He had watched from afar as you had taken down men three times your size, as you cleared bases by yourself, and how you lived up to your callsign. He knew you were young, younger than the other task force members, and with being young came being naive and impressionable, Makarov wanted to use those attributes and swing them to his favour.

In some of your exhausted delusions, you dreamt of your team, of your family. You had dreamt of your first Christmas with the task force, how you had sat in your room with the computer screen on, talking and listening to your family on the other line, wishing to be back home and apart of their celebrations, that was, until Gaz barged into your room and dragging you out for a Christmas surprise with your chosen family. You had dreamt of the day you accepted death, how you leant up against that brick wall, the rain pouring from above and mixing with your blood; red water sweeping the street. You had accepted your fate that afternoon, dying alone, until you knight in a shining skull mask whisked you off your feet and to survival. You dreamt of the day your nephew was born, how his tiny hands wrapped around your finger, chosing you to be his favourite person in that moment. You dreamt of many things, but one always kept returning. The delusion that Ghost would save you one last time.

"Fear is part of being human, Redback, it's the precursor to bravery. We need it, it wakes us up to what needs to be done. So feel it, own it, let it ignite your thoughts," Gaz's words echo in your mind constantly, they were one of the first words he ever spoke to you, and they resonated with her throughout her short years with the task force. They kept you alive at that point, they told you no matter how inhuman you felt, you were still alive, still breathing, still ready to fight.

Your cell was a hollow cube of concrete, one way in, no windows. In there you could have no idea how much time had passed or even if it was night or day. It was totally disorientating by design. Given enough time a person could forget their own name in there, and you were beginning to. The isolation was total and the stimulation was zero. No sound, no light, no furniture or cloth of any kind.

You could hear the sound of feet slamming against concrete, though your eyes never opened, refusing to see what was coming to torment you that time. They had stripped you of everything, they took your weapons, and your dignity. They had left you to rot in the cell in cotton underwear and a white undershirt, though both items were caked in dirt, grim, and stained with your own blood.

The sound of keys jingling had caught your attention, and when you opened your eyes you kept your gaze away from the intruder. Instead, you found the bruises and dried blood on your ankles far more interesting. The person had unlocked your hands first, fumbling with the keys as if he were nervous, as if something had gone wrong, and that had been his first mistake. When your hands were greeted freedom, you finally looked over at the man, your knife, the one they had stolen from you, sat perched on his hip. They had stolen your gear just to use it against you, and that fact gave you more motivation than anything previously, you wanted your things back.

Without a second of hesitation, your hands wrapped around the knife, plucking it from his tactical belt, your tactical belt, and plunged it into his thigh. He cried out in pain, something you never gave them the satisfaction of hearing, as he doubled over from the fiery sensation in his leg you pulled the knife out again and plunged it into his neck, blood that was not yours finally coating your body again. As you let out all your frustration on the man, pulling the knife out just to slam it back in over and over again, you began to register the sound of gunfire, the sound of Russian shouting, and the feeling of panic the base you were trapped within was beginning to feel.

Once you were positive the man below you was dead, you began stripping him as they had once stripped you. You took the keys from his cold, dead hands, and unlocked your feet from the shackles, your ankles screaming in relief. You then took his clothing, albeit they were far too large for you, they were better than what you had been forced to stay in for your time as a prisoner. Tightening the pants around your waist with your belt, you felt somewhat okay, you didn't feel helpless or hopeless, you felt determined, determined to get out of there yourself, since there would be no rescue party for you.

Gripping onto the rifle, one that wasn't yours originally, you began your escape. As you made your way through the base, leaving a trail of bodies behind you, you felt like yourself again, you felt like the soldier once were. You had reminded yourself of things that were facts; you were one of the youngest ever recorded female members to join the SAS, you were an accomplished soldier, a sergeant before your twenty first birthday, you were a force to be reckoned with; those facts kept you motivated throughout your escape, you were all those things, and more, and you could get yourself out of any situation.

Sticking to the shadows, you took down over twenty soldiers, cornering them til they were alone, and that tactic had worked well enough, til your luck ran out. The corner you took was one of bad judgement, over fifteen men resided there, all on high alert for your whereabouts, and with no shadows to conceal yourself, you had no other option but to simply turn back around, though when you did so, you found yourself face with thirty other men, ready to pounce. Weighing your options, you knew that to surrender was your only choice, if you wanted to stay alive. Letting the rifle hang from your shoulder, you held your hands up, defeat running thick through your veins.

They didn't make a move though, not one soldier stood out of line, all of them waiting for you to make the first move, to do something unpredictable, until he sauntered out of the crowd. Makarov's second in charge, Yuri, grinned like a mad man as he gripped you roughly, pulling you in the direction of another room and dismissing the men on guard. You were no longer deemed as a threat as he led you into the room, far nicer than the cell you had grown accustomed to.

He stripped you of your weapons, though he was not thorough, leaving your bloodied knife within your waistband as he took the rifle and pistol from your body, turning the safety on and throwing them across the room.

"I thought we beat the need to escape out of you," he tsked, hands feeling your body in a way far less appropriate than simply looking for weapons. "But I now see that you have to be broken in a different way to get you to comply with our rules."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as the five other men walked through the door, dragging their bodies with them. Three had a grip on Ghost's sluggish body, and two were struggling against Soap's protests. The men forced Ghost and Soap to their knees, Ghost having to steady himself by placing his hands in front of him to keep him from falling foreword. They had drugged him, most likely using the same one they had used to keep you compliant in the first weeks of your capture.

"Redback?" Ghost questioned softly as he looked towards you, confusion running through his mind.

"These two were found sneaking around our base," Yuri revealed, toying with a piece of your hair as he forced you to look at them. Soap held a look of distraught as he looked over at you, like he had just seen a real ghost, while Ghost's eyes held a look of resentment within them. You weren't sure who the resentment was pointed towards, but you had a sneaking suspicion it wasn't directed at you. "And now you'll watch them die."

Yuri stepped foreword, his own pistol raised, pressing the barrel against Soap's head as he looked back at you. With a clenched jaw, you pulled the knife from your waistband and pressed it against your wrist. The sharpness of it caused a small speck of blood to dribble down your arm and drip to the floor, but despite the sting you kept it in place.

"Makarov wants me, you kill them and I'll die with them," You spoke clearly, despite your voice being hoarse from not speaking for days on end. "How would that look for you? Under your watch, his prized possession dies because you can't do your fucking job right."

Yuri let out a dry chuckle, "so loyal," he commented, looking towards the men knelt before him, "and where are your pleas? When she was taken from you, you left her. Maybe you two would rather her blood spill to cover your sins."

"Shut up," You hissed, their silence to his words were deafening, a heartbreaking scene as Ghost looked anywhere but at you.

"I want you to memorise this moment, they weren't here to rescue you," Yuri growled, "They were completing another mission, and you so happen to be here as well."

Ghost's eyes, despite hooded with the effects of the drug, widened slightly, struggling even harder against the three men that held him in place. Soap on the other hand, used the distraction as an ample time to escape. Taking the gun from Yuri, Soap pointed it towards the men holding him down and left off two shots, killing them quickly. You had taken this opportunity to throw the knife, watching with a sickening smile as it lodged itself into Yuri's chest. Ghost, regardless of being under the influence of a drug, took down two of the men holding him hostage while Soap let off another shot into the final man.

Ignoring the two men, you walked over towards Yuri, watching as he spluttered out in pain. Hovering over him, you crouched down, twisting the knife deeper into his chest. Pulling it out, you relished in the pool of blood that began to form.

"I want you to memorise this moment," You repeated his words to him as you dragged the bloodied knife down his cheek, smearing his own blood on his face, "that nobody is here to rescue you." and with that, you plunged the knife up through his bottom jaw.

Months had come and gone, and you had not spoken a word to anyone on Task Force 141 since you had been brought back to the. safety of your base. The wounds, the injuries to your flesh would heal long before you're able to heal your brain. You had gone through a lot, many scars now littered your body, your ankles and wrists having a permanent red line from the rubbing of your shackles, and your mind was in shambles. Laswell had told you that they hadn't looked for you once, that they assumed you were dead and had even informed your family of you being killed in action. You felt almost betrayed that they didn't even bother to look for you, that the mission was more important to them, to Ghost, than to see you still breathing.

The doctors had gotten you healthy again, gave you the fluids and sustenance you had been deprived on before setting you up with a physiotherapist. That man had retaught you how to do simple tasks, explaining to you that the only reason you were capable of such things during your escape was because of the adrenaline coursing through your veins. It had taken you four months to get back to doing things on your own, and an additional three months before you were back to your usual abilities, and still within all that time, you refused to look at the men that had left you in the hands of the enemy. They had offered you leave, to go home and spend time with family, but if the mission was as important as leaving behind a team member, it only made sense to stay and complete it before gifting yourself with seeing your parents relieved faces.

The gym was quiet at three am, sleep no longer a need for you as it only plagued your mind with unwanted memories. The sound of your knuckles coming in contact with the rubber punching bag silenced your mind, created an inner peace within you as you assaulted the equipment. Nobody else resided inside as you continued to push your abilities, seeing just how long you could do this before getting tired. You used to be able to go for hours, but now, it seemed that you could only do half of that.

Your inner peace was quickly ruined by the sound of heavy footsteps, and before you could even register what was happening, his hands wrapped around your waist and pushed you against the closest wall. He turned you to face him, the hard skull plate from his mask was gone, his balaclava the only thing separating them from each other. His breathing was heavy and his eyes were hooded from lack of sleep, the black war paint he usually sported was not there, leaving his expressions easier to read.

"You never threaten to kill yourself to save me again," His voice was rough, reminding you of a hot long black in the early of the morning, bitter and abrasive, burning your tongue. "I'd rather get shot ten times over than ever see you do that again."

Scoffing, you looked at him with a frown, "A few months too late for this revelation, Lieutenant."

"I don't care," He huffed, grip on your waist loosening, "You don't get to do that shit, not anymore."

"And you don't get too care, why do you even care? Huh?" You spluttered out, words dripping with venom, "You left me there to die, Laswell told me everything, told me how you all didn't even give me a second thought, told my fucking family I was dead."

"I watched you die," He growled out, "I watched as that bullet went through your chest, as you fell to the ground."

"And you didn't think to check? The mission that important to you that you can't go over to a wounded soldier and check if their heart is still beating?" You all but screamed at him, if you were anyone else, your yelling at a superior would go severly punished, "I was wearing a fucking chest plate, you saw me put it on, you checked I had it on before we started that fucking mission, and you still left me for dead."

"You don't think I don't remember that now?" He yelled back. at you, voice booming throughout the gym, "You don't think I wasn't awake every night wondering about you? Thinking of things I could have done differently? I completed that mission and went back for you, you were gone."

"Why do you care so much?" You hissed at him, "The first time we met you told me that I'd be another dead body at the edge of your boot because you didn't think I was good enough, why care now?"

"Because you mean something to me," He revealed, though his words were sweet his tone wasn't, it was like he resented the fact that you meant something to him, "you mean more to me every single day, that's why I care."

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diejager · 1 month

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could I please request some dad Makarov content? there's like none out there and I think he'd actually be a good dad

I just wanna see him with his own cute little babies

Cw: fluff, ballerina, proud dad!Makarov, protective behaviour, tell me if I missed any. Note: every dialogue written in italic is spoken in Russian.

Your father was the loveliest person you knew. Vladimir Makarov may be an initimidating person with all his smarts and slyness, but he was soft and tender, a loving father and a caring provider to your life. He was all you’d known, you didn’t know your mother, your grandparents, your uncles and aunts, or any cousins, but all you needed was him, your father. He gave you all you needed and didn’t need, any wish or after though conjured up with his endless amount of money, pampering you with luxuries and comfort few knew.

You didn’t have friends, but you knew your father’s allies - he insisted that you called them allies because he’d never considered them friends. He told you that they were below him and you, dogs on a tight leash that would follow him as long as he gave them what he promised - they were prominent figures in your life, passing or stopping by Makarov’s well-fortified mansion to speak to him in his office, the one you once compared to a war room when you were young, your nose buried in fantasy books to fulfill your need to explore the world when all that was within your reach was inside your golden cage.

The world on the other side of the wall was a stranger —a danger, your father mumbled to you at night, promising that he’d protect you as long as he still breathed. You were homeschooled, the bests academics invited to tutor you since you were young, from mathematics and literature to language and politics, you were taught by the best, in the little office Makarov kept renovating as you aged. He changed the desk, then the chair, and when the paint started yellowing, he had the whole room repainted in a soft sage to compliment your bright mind. You father was such a perfect parent that you hated disappointing him, you did all you could to reach his expectations and listened to his orders.

“Мой изящный Лебедь,” he clapped his hands, his eyes gleaming proudly as he watched you twirl and dance in the polished floor of your home studio, “That was beautiful.” [My graceful Swan.]

Your black tutu rose as threw your leg up, twirling on the hard pad of your toes, giving your father a practice show for Cinderella. You always danced for him, letting him probe and give you advice and critiques of your form. Finishing the dance off with a low bow, your legs crossed and feet spread horizontally, you smiled joyfully at him when his claps grew louder. Rising up, your met him halfway, jumping into his arms when he spread them open, peppering your face with sweet and loving kisses, his scruffy beard itching you.

“It was perfect, you make me so proud,” he held onto you, his warm hands running smoothly over your biceps, herding you out of the studio he had built to let you practice, “You deserve a gift, my little Swan. Is there anything you want?”

“Nothing you can buy me, papa, ” you shook your head, burying your face in his chest when he sat you down on the regal, red couch.

“Then?”

“I want to go see the flowers again, papa, when they’re in full bloom. Can we?”

A soft chuckle rumbled out of his chest, he breathed in your comforting scent, nose nuzzling your hairline with a smile, small and adoring for his sole child.

“Yes, of course.”

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#x reader #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 #cod makarov #mw3 makarov #makarov #call of duty makarov #vladimir makarov #makarov x reader #Father!makarov #Dad!makarov #platonic relationships #female!reader #fem!reader

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krabzyr · 2 months

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Makarov with his beloved mother. 😊 Not 100% the same but I want to draw both of them together.

P/S: There is a rumour that there will be a Milena Romanova operator coming in the future. Now, I want Makarov's mum operator as well. 😌

Source: Modern Warfare 3 Makarov's Mother Live Action Trailer ft. Di Lorenzo (COD MW3 Live Action Trailer)

#call of duty #cod #call of duty modern warfare 3 #cod mw3 #mw3 #call of duty fanart #vladimir makarov #makarov mother #art #krabzyr

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mrsparrasblog · 1 month

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MAKAROV X PRICE DAUGHTER Pt. 1

I know John Price would be the best Dad on earth but please let the Plot , ploting

Part 2

Your dad loved you; you were really sure he did, just not as much as he loved Tina, your younger sibling. You were the result of a one-night stand he had when he was 16, while Tina was a love child of your dad's new wife. You liked both of them; you really did. They treated you with respect; you stayed in their house while your dad was on deployment. So you couldn't really complain; they even let you stay while you did your apprenticeship, despite that you were over 20 now and full of age, but they made it clear: finish your apprenticeship and you're gone.

Your dad didn't say anything. Well, how could he, since he was always on some kind of mission, to save the planet or world? He was like a real-life Avenger. It just hurts sometimes when he misses certain events like your ballet performance, your appendix operation, your 18th birthday, and your graduation ceremony—the best of the whole year. But who cares about that when you have no one in the crowd to cheer for you?

The worst part? He did make time for Tina. He was at her elementary school graduation, at every birthday, and at her fencing competition, claiming it's not because he likes Tina more; it's just that fencing is more interesting than ballet. You would understand that, right? You were a good, smart girl. Of course, you would understand how important his job is, right? You're not a selfish little lady, he said.

For years, you thought he despised you, maybe because you were the spitting image of your dead mother or because you had the same interests as her but not like Tina. Tina was cool; she did fencing, wanted to join the military, and even got caught smoking weed. Your dad only laughed about this, telling her he did this too when he was young.

You and your dad didn't share the same interest; you liked everything that was hyper-feminine: ballet, pink, makeup, Taylor Swift. And you were becoming a midwife instead of a cool, badass soldier. His only expression was, "Are you sure, sweetie?" Of course, you were sure, and you thought your job was even more badass than his. You helped bring babies into the world; what could be better?

One day, you noticed he did love you. In fact, it was just harder to love someone at 17 than at 30, he said. He cried while saying this, begging you on his knees to forgive him for being such a crappy dad, and of course, you did. His affection and attention were almost like a drug to you; you didn't need weed when hearing "I'm proud of you, sweetie" did so much more to you.

It wasn't a surprise when you started to sleep with older men, craving the care and affection they could provide you with. The same affection you begged your whole life for. When your stepmother found out you got intimate with 40-year-old men every weekend, she told your dad, of course, that she did. And he was furious—more than furious. Giving you a lesson about safe sex—a bit too late for that, innit? And then he told you that he was disappointed in you, and it hurt even more than the neglect you needed to endure your whole life.

You were walking through the streets of Cardiff, enjoying the sight of your hometown; it was beautiful, especially at night. Suddenly, a man bumped into you—correct: the most handsome man you've ever seen in your life. He was tall with dark hair, mesmerizing eyes, tattoos and pale skin, and he was definitely old enough to be your type. Maybe that was the fairytale love story you ever dreamed of.

"I'm sorry, sir; my eyes aren't so strong in the dark."

He kissed your hand like you were some kind of royalty and smiled with the most charming smile. "A pretty girl like you shouldn't have to apologize," he said with a thick, beautiful Russian accent.

"Thank you, sir."

"Call me Vlad, princess," he said, and you told him your name, to which he replied that it was the most beautiful name he ever heard.

"Let me walk you home, princess. It's dangerous for a beautiful girl like you to walk on her own," he said with a cheeky grin.

"So you're from Russia? How is it there?"

"Beautiful; the nature is stunning. I live in Moscow, and you would love the architecture."

"I bet I would love it. If I have the opportunity to travel someday, I definitely will."

"Where would you go first, princess?"

"Hm, New York or maybe Sydney. No wait, the Alps. Ah, it's hard to decide, you?"

You mumbled while walking on the sidewalk; you didn't know why, but you felt safe like never before. Not even the dogs barked at him; he had this dark presence about him, but how he talked and behaved, letting you walk further away from the sidewalk, lending you his jacket, and caressing your finger with his thumb, made you feel safe and appreciated.

"I was almost everywhere in the world, but if I could decide, I'd say Moscow."

"Doesn't count; you live there." You pointed your tongue at him and threw a giggling fit.

"And who are you to decide this?"

"Like you said, a princess."

"And what does your Highness want?"

"Hm, ice cream."

You went to an ice cream place, both of you picking out an ice cream flavor; he insisted that he pay for your £2 ice like a gentleman, and you laughed.

"You're weird; chocolate-mint ice is a disgrace."

"It is good; taste it?"

"I won't."

You smeared the ice around your plump lips. "You sure don't want a taste now," you said, hinting at a kiss. He smirked and leaned in for a kiss. His lips were gentle, but there was so much passion behind the kiss and so much longing that you immediately moaned, making a fool of yourself. After what felt like hours, you split, trying to catch your breath.

"that was-"

"Intense"

You nodded before pulling into another kiss. The 10-minute walk home took 3 hours since you stopped every second, demanding his attention, and he gave it to you so willingly. You arrived at your door.

"So this is my door."

He kissed you one last time, "Sorry Princess," and then he pulled you into him, holding something against your nose, but before you could react, you were already far gone.

You brought him to your place, Price's house, with what he wanted; he wanted to kill every three of you, make a massacre, and then leave them for Price to see. But you were confusing him; he liked your presence; sure, he was just a man, and he knew you were the type of woman he watched when beating his meat, but normally attractiveness wouldn't affect him, especially not with Price's daughter. But you were nice to him even though you didn't know he was fucking Vladimir Makarov, so his plan changed; he needed to break you or have you and then rub it under Price's face that you were his now.

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