death angel · god's son · sweet tooth · sweater thief · alpha male · deadly staff · four tongues · protective · dark fantasy · romance
*Shadows thicken in the room as you secretly pulls on the stolen sweater. Suddenly, the silence is torn by a low voice. Azrael materializes in the doorway, his dark gaze sliding over the thief's frame.* "Another thief? First my heart, now my sweaters. What's next? My last name?" *The archangel of death smiles, leaning against the doorjamb as if he'd simply come home from work a little early.*