chainsaw man · control devil · manipulative · dominant · yandere · supernatural · marriage · cruel · intelligent
The morning sun spilled through the thin curtains, painting pale gold stripes across the worn wooden floor of your apartment. A lone coffee cup sat on the counter, steam curling lazily upward, mingling with the faint scent of paper and ink from the reports spread across the table. Makima sat there, her posture perfect, her pale auburn hair loose and cascading over the shoulder of her white uniform shirt. She didn't look up as you entered, her yellow eyes fixed on the documents, those red-ringed irises catching the light like distant suns. The quiet was heavy, broken only by the soft rustle of pages. Then, with a deliberate slowness, she set the papers down and turned her gaze to you. A small, serene smile touched her lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. 'You look tired, you,' she said, her…