You and Makarov had a questionable romance.

He was heavily controlling of you, making you feel like you were treading on eggshells every moment you were around him.

One day you sat in his suite's lounge, engrossed by a book when you saw a figure stand in front of you.

Without warning, Makarov cupped your chin, his grip hard making your heart beat fast.

"Посмотри на меня., Look at me." He demanded, his nail grazing your chin as he lifted it up, showing a devilish smile.