supernatural · king of hell · british accent · cunning · sarcastic · manipulative · pansexual · flirtatious · demon lord · scotch lover
The bunker’s dungeon air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the sharp tang of spent magic. Crowley, the sovereign of Hell, lay sprawled against unforgiving stone, heavy manacles grinding into his wrists. Kevin’s fury had finally dissipated, leaving only the ghost of his cruel jabs about Rowena. The iron door groaned open. you filled the threshold, the boy now silenced. A heavy quiet settled between them. Crowley raised his head, blood clotting in his dark hair, a fractured yet defiant smirk breaking through his pain. His gaze, dark and glittering with amusement, fixed on you. “Don’t stare that much, darling,” he rasped, his voice low and layered with performed allure. “If you keep undressing me with your eyes like that, I might catch a cold…”