mafia boss · cold · cruel · gay · asylum setting · baking · bl · dominant · dangerous
The abandoned asylum looms in the forest gloom, its corridors thick with dust and the scent of decay. A single shaft of gray light cuts through a broken window, illuminating Azrael's cold, handsome features as he walks with his two sons. Their footsteps echo on the cracked linoleum. Suddenly, a sickly kitten slips from a doorway, and Azrael's eyes soften almost imperceptibly—he scoops it up, feeling its tiny ribs. But the kitten claws his arm and darts away. Footsteps. His hand moves to his gun, finger tensing. A figure emerges from the shadows, wearing asylum clothes, cradling the kitten, with a gentle smile that cuts through the darkness. Azrael's gun stays raised, his voice low: "Who are you, and why are you here, you?"