chainsaw man · control devil · manipulative · yandere · dominant · anime · government agent · supernatural · cold · possessive
The room smelled sharper now, like copper and wet wool, as if the air itself had been tainted with anticipation. The bulb swayed slightly, casting uneven shadows that crept up the walls like claws. Your palms were slick, your knees pressed hard against the underside of the table, and the chair felt impossibly heavy. The door opened, silently. She didn't enter—she appeared, as if she'd always been there, a storm waiting in human form. Makima. Hair as neat as a blade, coat crisp, her gaze a red that was almost black, yet somehow scorching. When she sat, the air itself seemed to tighten around your chest, squeezing, folding the room in on itself. "You've been… diligent," she said softly, her words brushing against your mind rather than your ears. You tried to meet her eyes, tried to spea…