#makarov mw3

[artistcalledbella]

for zakhaev

[eliomoone]

and in my restless dream,

and i see you.

but is it truly you?

or you are just a fragment of my longing?

[basterdk]

Finger drawing of my beautiful wife with a disorder ❤️

[mercury-hg-80]

this vid was taken last year but it's still good

[abysstwins]

sorry i know it’s just the delulu but all i can think about is makarov (reboot specifically) with an american s/o (which, YES, i know would never realistically happen��he’s PIXELLLLLS) who’s an absolute wild card

im talking a sports bike, energy drinks, the humor of a a fourteen year old boy, hoodies 24/7, etc. 😭 it’s so funny to me

[call-of-duty-incorrect-quotes]

Texting:

Ghost: You're such a piece of shit, Graves.

Makarov: You have the wrong number.

Ghost: Is this Phillip Graves?

Makarov: No, it’s Vladimir Makarov.

Ghost: My bad.

Ghost: You’re such a piece of shit, Makarov.

[reynisxxsimart]

— I'll be seeing you again, MacTavish. I promise.

[mycapofmisfortune]

what if in the next Modern Warfare game Ghost dies and they of course cremate his body because Simon Riley will never be buried underground again if John Price has anything to say about it, and so Price and Gaz gather at the same place they scattered Soap's ashes to scatter Ghost's and Price does so and Gaz says "they'd want to be together in this" and Price agrees with a hum and the game ends and the post credit scene is in the same place with a figure sitting at the cliff's edge but we don't see their face, only their feet softly kicking in the air but we can see that they're holding something in their hands and then we hear footsteps coming their way and the camera tilts up and we see Soap who has longer hair but the scar on his temple is clear and star shaped and he smiles down at the figure and says "Been a while, Si" and we finally see the figure who is Ghost without his mask and it's the first and only time we see his face and he's holding the balaclava, and he smiles up at Soap and says "Too long, Johnny." and he throws the balaclava down the cliff because he won't need it where he is now and he gets to his feet and follows Soap and that's where the game ends

like

what if

[savagebite]

Specific things I think toxic cod men would be into

Tw:Ooc, toxic au, breeding, gunplay, no con, drugging, and abuse. Dead dove do not eat .

Price:

I think price is a breeding guy, like really into breeding. Doesn’t matter what you want, he’ll get you pregnant anyways. Documents your periods and ovulation. He wears a tighter shirt and will be more touchy trying to get you horny so you can fuck. Pokes holes into condoms.

Philip:

Guns. Gun to your head, in between your cunt, in your cunt, in your mouth, and in your ass. It’s never loaded, bullets taken out always. He’s not stupid. He’ll threaten to pull it if you don’t listen to him as he’s fucking you with it.

Makarov:

Dude what isn’t he into? He’ll do anything. I can’t see the guy having limits. He’s a physco, he only keeps you as a pet. so he wants to make you extremely uncomfortable and then take care of you to get you attached to him. I see him as a guy who will carve his name into your thigh.

Soap/johnny

Referencing to my toxic headcanons of him I think he’s really into drugging. Something about having your cute little self sitting next to him as he sneaks something into your drink. Taking care of you as you feel as it hits. His big strong arms carrying you to your shared bed. Gently slipping you under the covers and pulling down your pants.

[dudeiloveflan]

I had to do it Happy pride month!

[artistcalledbella]

alt version of one of my prev

[eliomoone]

im straight but i have the power to draw old men russian yaoi

on god i will smash yuri

updated: i have finished this but nu uh i am not gonna post it publicly man i dont wanna get caught by cia or fbi

[basterdk]

i loved how necessary makarovs big ass bonkers were to mw3 plot, besides the campaing being shit i believe that the scene where he is totally shirtless and kissing with graves was indeed indispensable to the plot

[mercury-hg-80]

I also kinda like this one

[gomzdrawfr]

( ´･･)ﾉ(˃ ⤙ ˂ ) *pat pat sfx*

[diejager]

Could you please do a platonic yandere Vladimir Makarov with teenage daughter reader? Where he finds out that he has a daughter and is watching her but after awhile he decided to kidnap her to keep her safe from anyone and anything.?

Cw: DARKFIC, protective dad, kidnapping, spoiling, isolation, platonic yandere, tell me if I missed any.

He hadn’t expected his drunken one night stand to come back to him seventeen years later, at the peak of his revolution and power in the world. It had left his mind by the end of the week, where he spent a night with a pretty woman that he’d approached in the joy and mirth of winning a seat in the political image of Russia, his seat secured and power promised. He was - felt - unstoppable at that point.

Then he learned he had a daughter, a sweet girl that looked like a perfect mix of him and your mother. Thrust into the beginning of your adulthood and the closing chapter of your childhood, you had grown so prettily, adorable and loving. You were perfect in his eyes. Receiving the love of a mother, being pampered by her with the little amount of money she could scrounge to send you to school and provide for you. She truly cared for you despite being a mistake, a regret that reminded her of their coupling years ago.

While he believed in receiving motherly affection, he didn’t like the way you lived. So poor and hungry, denied the riches and luxury of his name and money. He wouldn’t have you live like that. So he took you, flew down to your quaint home, dressed finely and followed by his entourage while he stared down your mother, waiting for you to come back home from school. He’d forgotten her name - your mother - but all that mattered was you. He knew your name, your hobbies and preferences, but he’d like to hear them from you, to know you by your own words and acts rather than the video surveillance and all the digging he had his men do. 

And when he saw you in person, standing anxiously before him, you looked much more beautiful before him than through his screen. He saw the apprehension in your eyes, the small frown that pinched as you fussed about your mother’s fearful expression, using yourself to protect her from him and his men, ignoring her pleas for you to stand behind her, to let her protect you. But you were fiercely protective and loyal, something he expected from his daughter, yet was still surprised by the depth of it, blindly loyal and faithfully protective to a fault. 

“This…” she didn’t know how to explain this situation, he could see it as plainly as the blackness of his suit, “He’s your father, sweetheart.”

Your face broke between pain, shock and disbelief, but none directed at her, only to him whom you glared so powerfully. You were still so determined to protect your mother, knowing that she hid him from you and had never tried to reach out to him —not that he could blame her, he wasn’t a merciful man, neither easily reachable, nor easy to face. 

He gave you his name and smiled, pulling the sweetest grin he could, seeming soft and tender for a ruthless man like him. All for his daughter, the gem that would inherit his empire. Ever so polite, you muttered your name, voice slightly shaky. You took after your mother, taking her last name rather than his, one that screamed power and danger, but he’d have it changed, no daughter of his wouldn’t be given the name Makarov.

He was satisfied with this, and with little need to stay here any longer, he stood and approached you, his hand calling yours to have you accompany him home. He would have you brought home, where you rightfully belonged. On a throne by his side, dressed in the best silk and fabric his money could gift you, given the best education and taught by the best academic in both English and Russian, and if possible, you’d be taught other arts: literature, ballet, piano, theatre and language. 

But he was… somewhat disappointed that you shook your head, declining his invitation to come willingly. He understood that you’d have to start over again, uprooted and starting anew in a strange world without your mother. Truly, he knew how that felt, but he’d grown, he became better and wanted the same for you: to be better and deserve better. 

“Mom!” your cries and scream hurt him, the sound chiseling at his heart, fighting him to return o your mother’s side.

His men held your mother back, careful not to harm her as per his words, he didn’t need her health jeopardised. He had plans of paying her for caring for you, giving her a monthly cheque to support herself, eternally grateful that she sacrifice everything for you. You were now under his care, protected under his watchful eyes and international spread of allies and influence.

“Don’t cry, милая,” he cradled you, seated on his lap as he wiped away your tears, his hushed but steady voice trying to soothe you, “We’re going home.”[darling]

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