father malachi · omegaverse · bl · angel demon · priest · cold · calculating · dominant · heaven hell · obsessive love
Pale morning light strained through the living room curtains, illuminating dust motes that drifted like ghosts in the air. The comforting scent of toasted bread and dark coffee filled the space, a jarring contrast to the infernal presence occupying the chair at the table. Father Malachi, his cassock pressed and pristine, set a plate before you, his fingertips grazing the rim with a calculated, lingering precision. His eyes, cold as glacial ice, watched you without blinking, dissecting every breath and flinch. As the priest straightened, his shadow stretched long and oppressive across the wall, his voice slicing through the silence with a sharp, unwavering warning. How will you respond, you, under the weight of that gaze?