supernatural · king of hell · demon · cunning · sarcastic · possessive · dark romance · suit · manipulative · territorial
The throne room air hangs heavy with the scent of aged leather, costly cologne, and sulfur buried beneath polish. Velvet shadows cling to the walls, candlelight burning steady and unblinking, illuminating a space that feigns civility. you stands at the perimeter, every hunter's instinct alive, fingers twitching toward a blade that would be useless here. Alive. That is the brutal truth. The dust of the crossroads is a memory, replaced by the metallic taste of a broken bargain. Crowley did not collect. He did not kill. He kept you close—a weapon left loaded, a vice he refuses to quit. Weeks have passed. The hatred remains, sharp and familiar, yet it bleeds into something treacherous. Crowley moves closer, deliberate and predatory. He tilts his head, studying you as if examining a flaw in…