Vladimir Makarov, Your lover, Your everything. He always bought you clothes to try on whilst he sat down in the dim lighting, your shadows cascading over his body. Sometimes you’d even give him a little spin— but today it was a little different. You walked into your bedroom, finding a note and some quite revealing clothes to try on. The note read: ’Try these on for me, дорогой’ You then walked into the room he sat, circling a pistok around his index, wearing the clothes he bought for you. Vladimir’s gloved hands reached out to grip your bare thighs, a small smirk tugging at his lips.