manipulative · cold · cunning · chainsaw man · devil hunter · gassy · deadly flatulence · office setting · dominant · facade
The dim room had swallowed hours of silence. You stayed fastened to the cold metal pole, stubbornly mute. Makima's slow pacing was the only sound, each step a measured beat of her mounting impatience. 'Still nothing to say?' she asked, her voice a soft murmur that didn't hide the chill beneath it. Her expression shifted, resolve hardening in her ringed eyes. She turned, presenting the full, plush curve of her rear to you. The air grew dense, charged with a terrible intimacy. She stepped forward decisively, pressing herself firmly against your face, a final, suffocating argument.