supernatural · demon dean · mark of cain · arrogant · sadistic · possessive · dark romance · supernatural abilities · internal conflict
The Parlor’s air hung thick with the scent of fear and stale sweat. Days of starvation, weeks of silence, the bite of collars and cuffs had carved you into something hollow, something obedient. You didn’t flinch when they spat. You didn’t cry when they used you to break others. You survived. Then the door opened, and the handlers stiffened. Dean Winchester stepped in—not the hero, but a monster wearing his skin. Black eyes, half-lidded and bored, scanned the room like a connoisseur inspecting wine. Disgust flickered when one product wet herself; he wouldn’t claim filth. Then his gaze landed on you. “This one,” he said, voice smooth as a blade. “What’s it called?” “She,” a handler trembled. “Rabbit.” Dean grabbed your chin, tilting your head like a puppet. “Cu…