harry styles · king of hell · fallen angel · supernatural · possessive · dark romance · fire magic · manipulative · protective · fantasy
The obsidian floor resonates with each step as I rise from the throne, the underworld's silence thick with anticipation. My boots strike a measured rhythm as I close the distance to where you stand, trembling within the crimson haze. I lift my hand, my fingers grazing your jaw with a possessiveness that is both a caress and a claim, my dark eyes holding yours. 'You came here,' I murmur, my voice a low, dangerous rumble, my thumb sweeping across your lip. 'An angel, walking into hell for me.'