Summary: When a collection of priceless jewels vanishes from a high society household, private detective Crowley gets hired to solve it. Problem is, the suspiciously incompetent "valet" downstairs is obviously the culprit. Meanwhile, Castiel, who's working undercover for the Bow Street Runners, has spotted an obvious imposter playing guest. Accusations fly. Both realise the other isn't actually the thief and they're forced into working together despite everything to solve the case. What they uncover ends up being far more twisted than a simple heist…
Characters: Crowley, Castiel
Relationship: Crowley & Castiel (gen or pre-slash)
Summary: Crowley boasted to the Winchester boys that no-one knew more about the hounds than him. But how did that happen? Why did that happen? We follow Crowley from his first time meeting a hellhound to him rushing home panicked to check on Juliet when hearing Sam killed a hound.
Characters: Crowley, OG demon characters, OG hellhounds, Juliet, Sam, Dean, Castiel, Rowena
Rating: Teen and up
Tags: Canon verse, canon typical violence, hellhounds, hellhound birth, Crowley cares for his hounds
You can read the story here
You can enjoy the art here
Thank you to our wonderful @hectatess for the words, and thanks to @sassysnakeillustrations for the amazing art.
Remember: engaging without commenting grants you a playdate with the hounds - and you're the toy.
And off we go, kicking off another year with @additionaladdams (jadesparrow on AO3) and @lenaarting!
Summary: After being almost completely cured as a demon years ago, Crowley finds himself working with the Winchesters and Castiel to save people and hunt things. However, there has recently been a slight problem- his demon powers are all but gone.
Telling himself he would lose his new purpose without powers to contribute, he makes a last-ditch effort to find a mysterious spell book in a ruined witches' temple. And how desperate is Crowley to get this book? He asks for help from the last person he ever would want to work with: his mother.
Rating: T
Characters: Crowley, Rowena, Castiel, Elle
Main Tags: Alternate Universe, Gen
Content Warnings: show-typical violence, threats of torture, dry heaving/vomiting
Coming on May 10th, words by @additionaladdams (Jadesparrow on AO3) and art by @lenaarting.
After being almost completely cured as a demon years ago, Crowley finds himself working with the Winchesters and Castiel to save people and hunt things. However, there has recently been a slight problem- his demon powers are all but gone.
Telling himself he would lose his new purpose without powers to contribute, he makes a last-ditch effort to find a mysterious spell book in a ruined witches' temple. And how desperate is Crowley to get this book? He asks for help from the last person he ever would want to work with: his mother.
Rating: T
Characters: Crowley, Rowena, Castiel, Elle
Main Tags: Alternate Universe, Gen
Content Warnings: show-typical violence, threats of torture, dry heaving/vomiting
Summary: When a collection of priceless jewels vanishes from a high society household, private detective Crowley gets hired to solve it. Problem is, the suspiciously incompetent "valet" downstairs is obviously the culprit. Meanwhile, Castiel, who's working undercover for the Bow Street Runners, has spotted an obvious imposter playing guest. Accusations fly. Both realise the other isn't actually the thief and they're forced into working together despite everything to solve the case. What they uncover ends up being far more twisted than a simple heist…
Characters: Crowley, Castiel
Relationship: Crowley & Castiel (gen or pre-slash)
Summary: Crowley boasted to the Winchester boys that no-one knew more about the hounds than him. But how did that happen? Why did that happen? We follow Crowley from his first time meeting a hellhound to him rushing home panicked to check on Juliet when hearing Sam killed a hound.
Characters: Crowley, OG demon characters, OG hellhounds, Juliet, Sam, Dean, Castiel, Rowena
Rating: Teen and up
Tags: Canon verse, canon typical violence, hellhounds, hellhound birth, Crowley cares for his hounds
Coming on May 13th, words by @hectatess and art by @sassysnakeillustrations!
Coming on May 10th, words by @additionaladdams (Jadesparrow on AO3) and art by @lenaarting.
After being almost completely cured as a demon years ago, Crowley finds himself working with the Winchesters and Castiel to save people and hunt things. However, there has recently been a slight problem- his demon powers are all but gone.
Telling himself he would lose his new purpose without powers to contribute, he makes a last-ditch effort to find a mysterious spell book in a ruined witches' temple. And how desperate is Crowley to get this book? He asks for help from the last person he ever would want to work with: his mother.
Rating: T
Characters: Crowley, Rowena, Castiel, Elle
Main Tags: Alternate Universe, Gen
Content Warnings: show-typical violence, threats of torture, dry heaving/vomiting
Summary: You tried to bring Crowley back... instead, you bring all of Hell with him.
WC: 871
Warnings: rituals gone wrong, angst
Read on ao3!
You broke the seal with your own blood. You knew what that meant. Not metaphorically. Not in some poetic, romantic sense. Your own Literal blood. From your palm. From the same hand he used to kiss before vanishing without a trace.
The circle was drawn in salt and grave dirt, precise in theory—but emotion made your hands shake. You whispered the Enochian incantation over and over until it bled between your teeth like copper. There were candles—blackened stubs from the last time he came when you called—and the scent of burning flesh thick in the air like a funeral pyre.
Your vision blurred. Heat danced in the corners of the room like mirages.
You forced the incantation past a dry throat. “I call thee, Fergus Roderick Crowley. King of Hell. Crossroads Lord. Come to me.”
The flame flickered blue.
Then black.
Then nothing.
You stood in the silence, skin crawling. You’d done everything right. You know you did. But he wasn’t coming. He never came anymore. You took a trembling step forward, heart racing. “Crowley—please…”
That’s when the room exhaled. No wind. No movement. Just… pressure. Like the space between your ribs was being filled by something foreign.
Heavy. Hot. Curious.
The candle flared—then went out. Every light followed, swallowed in an unnatural hush.
From behind you came a voice. “Careful, darling.” Velvet. Familiar. Soothing. But wrong.
You turned slowly.
He stood just beyond the circle’s edge, shadowed, red eyes glowing faintly like coals beneath ash. His suit hung scorched at the cuffs. His skin looked greyer than you remembered—cracked in places. Almost burned. Like he’d clawed his way here. Like the ritual hadn’t summoned him, it had ripped him through.
“Crowley…?” you breathed.
He smiled. Slowly. Without warmth.
“You really shouldn’t have done that.”
You swallowed hard, pulse hammering against your ribs. “I called you before. You didn’t answer.”
“I was occupied.” His voice echoed oddly, as though another version of him whispered the same words a second too late. “You don’t know what it took to crawl back.”
“I thought something happened to you.” Your voice cracked. “I thought you were gone.”
His jaw ticked. “I was.”
And suddenly, he was closer. Not walking. Not teleporting. Just—there. Inches from the line. Something hissed at his heels in the shadows, unseen but angry. The salt sparked, reacting to his presence.
You stepped forward on instinct—crossed the broken line.
That’s when everything shifted. Your stomach twisted like gravity tilted sideways. The floor screamed beneath your boots, though it made no sound. The walls rippled. And Crowley’s expression shattered into panic.
“Get back in the circle!” he barked.
You froze. “But—”
“You smeared the edge—look!”
You followed his gaze. A thin, bloody streak had carved through the salt at your heel. One misstep. One drop too many.
The summoning was open. Not to him. To everything. The shadows behind him moved—not with him, without him. Something with too many limbs slithered along the ceiling. A whisper that wasn’t language crawled up your spine.
“Gods below,” Crowley muttered, clenching his jaw. “They hitched a ride. You tore a hole through. You didn’t summon me, sweetheart—you summoned everything I’ve been holding back.”
The thing in the ceiling dropped. He caught it mid-air with a flick of his fingers, turned it to smoke and bone dust. But his arm trembled.
He was weakening.
You ran to him. “Let me fix it—I can close the circle—”
“No.” He caught you, grip bruising your wrist, eyes flaming. “You do that, and I stay stuck. And if I’m stuck—they stay, too.”
You shook your head, breathing fast. “I don’t care about them. I care about you—”
“You think I’m still me?” he growled, teeth bared. “You think this face is all that’s left? You called me out of torment. You pulled me halfway between Hell and something worse.”
A sound like teeth chattering filled the room, except no one was moving.
Your heart broke. “I had to try.”
His expression flickered—just for a second. Something soft. Something familiar. “I know,” he whispered.
Then he kissed you. Hard. Desperate. Like it was the only thing still tethering him to this plane. His lips were hot—too hot—and his touch burned where he cupped your face. The air howled.
“Next time you miss me,” he rasped, “light a bloody candle. Don’t carve your name into the veils.”
“I’ll find you,” you swore. “I’ll fix it—”
“No,” he said, quiet and final. “You’ll forget me.”
And then, he shoved you. Back through the shattered circle, just as the veil split open behind him like torn skin. You saw things in the dark. Eyes like lanterns. Antlers. Wings made of shadow. And something that wore your face, grinning.
Then the entire summoning inverted, crashing inward in a shriek of soundless agony. Crowley vanished in a spiral of black flame.
---
You woke up hours later. Alone. Circle scorched. Salt dissolved. The air still smelled like blood and bourbon. And written in the soot on the floor, in Crowley’s handwriting: Tell no one. I’m not gone. Just deeper. If you try again, I won't be the one who answers.
Summary: Crowley comes to your rescue after you were attacked at knifepoint.
WC: 800
Warnings: assault. angst
A/N: written for the crowley bingo 2025... i forgot to post the rest of the card.... so im mass posting them today oops. my bad.
ao3 // tag list
Rain hammered down in sheets, soaking your hair, plastering your coat to your skin. The city felt like a different world at night: slick pavement reflecting neon lights, shadows crawling along walls, and the echo of footsteps that weren’t yours.
You weren’t sure when the first man appeared. One second, you were stepping around a puddle; the next, a rough hand was on your shoulder, spinning you into the alley.
“Easy, sweetheart,” he snarled, eyes wild, teeth showing. “Just give me your purse, and I won’t hurt you.”
Your pulse shot through the roof. You shoved him, but he was stronger than he looked, grabbing your wrist like iron. “No! Get off me!”
The world slowed as a rich, unmistakable voice cut through the storm.
“Well, now this is rude.”
The man froze. You turned—and then the impossible happened.
Crowley. The King of Hell, all sharp suits and sharper smirk, materialized at the alley’s mouth as if he had been summoned by the very panic racing through your chest. One hand in his coat pocket, the other flicking a silver lighter open and closed with effortless grace.
“Who the hell—” the attacker started, but Crowley didn’t wait for introductions.
He stepped forward, and suddenly, the thug flew backward as if struck by a wall of invisible force, landing in a puddle with a splash that drenched him from head to toe.
Your eyes widened. “He—he just—”
“I know what you’re thinking, pet,” Crowley said, voice smooth as silk, eyes glinting with that maddening mix of amusement and danger. “But yes. That was me. And yes, he’s regretting his life choices. Probably every single one.”
The man scrambled to his knees, lunging for you again, knife in hand. Crowley’s hand snapped outward. A blue flame hissed to life, scorching the blade until it warped and melted. He arched an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this.
“You see, dear,” he said, stepping closer, boots slick on the wet pavement, “sometimes even devils must intervene in pedestrian human affairs.” His eyes softened ever so slightly as he looked at you. “And it seems you are… quite appealingly inconvenient to fate.”
“Appealingly… what?” you asked, voice shaking, heart hammering.
Before he could answer, the man lunged once more. Crowley didn’t move quickly—he moved effortlessly. One hand pressed to the attacker’s chest, and with a single thought, the man froze mid-step, eyes wide with terror, then collapsed into a heap, unconscious.
You stumbled back, trying to process. “You… you saved me.”
“Oh, please,” Crowley scoffed, brushing rain from his coat. “Spare me the gratitude. I’m not a hero. Far too boring.” His lips quirked into a devilish smile. “But if we’re being precise, yes, I did just save you from being stabbed and robbed. Accidental prince charming, if you like.”
You couldn’t help but laugh nervously, adrenaline still coursing. “You’re the devil. And yet… here you are, saving me like some… dark Disney prince?”
Crowley chuckled low, a dangerous purr. “Flattery, pet? How… bold.” He stepped closer, and the scent of him—smoke, leather, and something dangerously magnetic—washed over you. “I suppose I do have a certain knack for theatrics. And let’s face it… you would’ve been terribly dull dead in the rain.”
The rain began to ease. He offered a gloved hand, a flourish that would have been charming if you weren’t acutely aware you were standing inches from the King of Hell himself.
“Come along, then. Let’s get you somewhere dry before something else decides it fancies a fight with you.”
Hesitant, trembling, you took his hand. His grip was firm, grounding—yet there was a spark of something far more dangerous in it. He led you out of the alley, eyes scanning the shadows like a predator protecting his prey, all sarcasm and menace wrapped in the posture of a prince escorting a damsel.
As you walked, he glanced at you sideways. “Don’t get any ideas, pet. I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this because if something happened to you, it would be tedious for me. Very tedious indeed.”
Despite his words, despite the knowledge that he was literally the devil, your chest tightened with a strange warmth. You had just survived a vicious attack—because of him—and in that chaos, danger, and wet neon glow, you realized that maybe, just maybe, even devils could play hero… if they felt like it.
“And…” you whispered, voice barely audible over the storm, “…thank you.”
Crowley’s smirk softened into something dangerously unreadable. “Don’t thank me, pet. Just… live, and make the world entertaining. That’s thanks enough.”
And as the rain washed the alley clean behind you, Crowley’s dark, impossibly charming figure walked beside you—a devil, a danger, a reluctant hero, and, somehow, your very own twisted Disney prince.
Warnings: Language, Chained up, Talk of hurt, Past relationship, Piv, Unprotected sex, Blue balls.
Rating:E
Special thanks to @copperboom82 for your beta skills and all your support. And all the mods for hosting such fun challenges. I had a blast!
FanFicWritersOfTheSPNFandom Discord Server Kinktober Challenge
- Prompt: Bondage
@crowleybigbang
-Bingo Square: Kinks
"Is that you, love?"
You stopped for a beat. Even if he was the king of hell and had put you through so much shit over the last few years, his voice still stirred something inside you, something that was hard to ignore.
"I know it's you…"
You let out a sigh and continued to the file boxes on the shelves. Now was not the time - the Winchesters and Kevin needed your help.
"I would recognize the pitter-patter of those boots anywhere."
You grabbed a box and started back towards the door, determined not to let him get to you.
"I can just see those hips swaying..." Crowley didn't want to, but he knew the way to get under her skin. "What's the matter, sweetheart, you don't love me anymore?" A smile danced on his lips as the false wall doors swung open. "Hello, darling."
"Any chance you wanna cut the bullshit and just tell me how to kill her?"
"Abandon giving you trouble, eh?"
"Crowley…"
"Tell you what. You let me go, and I'll kill her for you. I'll even let you watch as I split roast the little bitch."
"You know I can't do that."
His lips twisted into a smirk. "You always did want to tie me up."
"Fergus—"
"You haven't called me that in a very long time…" His smile grew. "You're thinking about it… You know you could do whatever you wanted to me right now… nobody would ever know."
You crossed your arms, shifting the weight on your hips as your core thrummed to life.
"Use the mighty Crowley as your own personal sex slave… Fill that tight little cunt of yours just the way you like…"
You took a deep breath; you couldn't deny it, Crowley was great in bed, probably the best you'd ever had. "You don't know how to kill her, do you?"
"Don't try to change the subject now, love," he taunted, earning an eye roll from you. "I bet she's purring for me already…" his eyes shifted down, sending shivers up your spine. "Question is, are you going to ride my cock… or my face?"
His eyebrows raised when you slowly stepped into the devil's trap that was painted on the floor, feeling his eyes on your curves as you swung your hips a little more than necessary.
"You wouldn't make me beg for it, now would you?"
You scoffed a laugh. "Like you would…"
"Oh, sweetheart, that little pussy of yours is well worth a little groveling."
"Alright then, let's hear it," you challenged, hearing the growl rumble in his chest as you stepped behind him. "Tell me how bad the all-mighty Crowley…" you heard his soft chuckle as you mocked his words, "wants to feel it."
Crowley cleared his throat. She was standing so close he could hear the swoosh as her t-shirt brushed against his suit jacket. "Come on, you know you want it just as bad…" He reached over his shoulder with his cuffed hands. She could have easily stepped back, but she didn't; he gripped the black cloth fabric and pulled her close. "Don't you, love?"
Before you could run, scream, or anything, your head moved on its own accord, his lips drawing you in like they had some kind of magnetic pull that you couldn't resist. And to be honest, you probably wouldn't even if you could.
Another growl rumbled against your lips this time, as you slid your hands down his chest. "I don't hear any begging. darling." Your hands stopped at the hem of his slacks, getting a disgruntled groan from him.
"Keep going… please…"
You moved your hand down another half inch. "Come on, you can do better than that…"
He bucked his hips, trying to feel your hand where he wanted you. "Please… baby."
The breath caught in your throat as his stubble tickled your lips, trailing over his jaw to his ear. "You're gonna pull the b word out?" you whispered. "You really do want it, huh?"
"Oh, more than you can imagine." He saw her eyes flicker to the far wall. "You talked about tying me up, didn't say anything about swords, cleavers, or axes, sweetheart." A grin spread over her face as she stepped closer to the weapons.
"Oh, come, darling, you scared of a little sharp blade?" you taunted, picking up the ax with the longest handle. You had no intentions of using it to hurt, but he didn't need to know that. His eyes watched nervously as you made your way back to him. "I mean, it's nice, but it's not kill-a-demon nice."
"Probably still hurts like a son of bitch."
"Probably." He flinched when you raised the blade, quickly needling the handle through the chains cuffed to his hands. You jammed in behind the iron bar below the seat of the chair he was sitting in. The handle held his hand to above his head, and without his demon strength, thanks to the warding on the handcuffs, Crowley was now truly a slave to your every whim.
"Is this really necessary, love?"
"Mhmm," you hummed as you slung your leg to straddle him. He took a sharp exhale when you rolled your hips. "Are you really gonna fight me on this?"
"No," he grunted as you rubbed your core against him again. "One request."
"I don't think you're in a position to be giving requests," you quipped,
"Kiss me," he said, ignore your smart ass remark. "Please…"
Your fingers twisted in the hair on the nape of his neck, looking into those brown eyes, you couldn't help but give in.
He let out a loud, annoyed sigh when the chains rattled against the wooden handle. "I want to touch you… Need to feel you."
"Sorry, Fergus," you said as you lifted, "I'm in control this time." You managed to pull his black slacks down to his knees, which was not an easy feat.
"You know it would have been better if I could have helped," he smarted, waving his bound hand.
"I got it, didn't I?"
"You did," he smirked.
"Mmm… Looks like the king of hell is already hard for me," you murmured, taking his thick cock into your hand.
"Fuck.." he moaned when you started to pump his length. "What… about you… How soaked are you for me… right now?"
"You'll see." You shimmied out of your jeans as fast as you could. You captured his legs again, looming over him, his need radiating from him.
"Give it to me… baby," he whispered. "Let me feel that glorious cunt again."
Your walls pulsed with anticipation as you lined his tip up to your entrance. And with a loud moan, you slowly sank onto him, letting him stretch you the only way he could. You leaned back, positioning your hands on his thighs, and when you were sure you could handle it, you rocked your hips.
Praises of your name spilled from his lips, his hand still fighting to touch, caress you, knowing he couldn't get what he wanted, fueled the fire in your core.
"You make me feel… so good," he sputtered between his groans.
"Yeah?" you taunted, quickening the pace of your hips.
"Yes… You know if you would let me touch, I could make you feel even better."
You raised your brows in temptation. "Oh, I got it covered," you leaned forward, readjusting the angle so that your clit would rub against his pelvic bones. You sucked a breath through your teeth as you continued to ride him, his cock hitting that sensitive spot as you rubbed your sweet nub against him. The pressure was building, and you weren't gonna stop for anything.
"I know you're close, love, I can feel it. Just let go. Come for me."
With his words, you felt the pressure in your stomach burst, sending waves of bliss through your entire body. You slowed, but continued riding his cock through your high.
"What the hell?" he protested when you stopped and rose to your feet. He sat there, mind in disarray, as he watched you pull your bottoms back on, continuing to ignore him. "Really? You're just going to leave me high and dry?"
"Afraid so, I really should be getting back," you said, fighting with him to get his pants back on. "I got a knight of hell to kill and all."
"I'll pay you back for this."
You stepped behind him to remove the ax from his seat. "Looking forward to it."
Warnings: Language, Demon/Human Relations, Face Fucking, Shibari, Oral Sex.
Rating: E
Special thanks to @copperboom82 for your beta skills and all your support. And all the mods for hosting such fun challenges. I had a blast!
FanFicWritersOfTheSPNFandom Discord Server Kinktober Challenge Prompt:
- Face Fucking
- Shibari
Cult Of Chaos Cultober Challenge Prompt:
- Eating out like they're starving.
@fandom-free-bingo
-Square Fill: Polar Opposites
@crowleybigbang
-Bingo Square Fill: A Demon's Heaven
Everything about the two of you was wrong. He was a demon, the king of hell. You, a hunter, a fucking Winchester for crying out loud. It didn't make a damn lick of sense. But that didn't stop your core from thrumming to life every time he appeared in the room or that stupid flutter you got every time you heard his name.
And the sex… the sex was amazing. The way he worked his tongue, the way he stretched your walls, the way he made you come harder than anyone ever had, you couldn't help but beg for more.
You looked down, finding his blood red eyes looking back, raising his eyebrows as you continued rolling your hips over his mouth. The vibrations of his muffled sentence sent shivers up your spine, threatening to make that coil in your stomach burst.
"Sorry, Crowley… Baby is almost there.. And she ain't stopping," you taunted through your loud moan, quickening the speed of your hips, making your clit drag faster on his tongue.
His fingers gripped your ass, forcing your thrust even faster, making the tension so tight you could barely hold it together, "Fuck… Crowley!" you cried out, "That's it… make me—"
You let out a gasp as everything stopped, right before your climax started to topple over, right before you came right on the demon's face, you found yourself lying on your back with what seemed like a million strands of rope tracing all over your body.
"It's called Shibari, darling," Crowley murmured, appearing beside the bed, "Something I picked up a long time ago."
"Crowley…" you gritted through your teeth.
"What's the matter? Don't like being all tied up?" He smirked, tightening the ropes with a wave of his fingers. making your legs spread as wide as they could. A moan pushed past your lips when the cool air hit your dripping core. "Or do you just hate the fact that you are not the one in control?"
"Fuck!" you cried out, feeling his fingers deep inside your cunt before he appeared, your hips squirmed against the tightly woven restraints.
"Mmmm…" he hummed, his tongue finding your clit again, lapping like he had been starved for months. His experienced mouth licked, sucked, and even nibbled a few things as his fingers pumped in and out of you, making the tension soar to its peak again, and the ropes burn against your skin as you wiggled against them some more.
"You're close, I can feel it," he teased, the force of his fingers becoming harder. "Come for me," he demanded, curling them upward. He hit that sweet spot just right, sucking your clit between his lips again
"Crow-Crowley!" you screamed as the coil busted, sending the waves of your orgasm through your entire body.
His fingers slowed, but still helped you ride out your high. "They say demons have been exiled from heaven." He snapped his fingers, making the ropes disappear. "But they were terribly wrong, because I have found mine," he said, lying beside you now. he grabbed you and pulled you into his side.
Summary: You and Crowley torment a poor soul in Hell.
Warnings: Angst, Torture, Hell, Blood, Violence
WC: 759
A/N: written for the Crowley bingo.
ao3 // tag list
The chamber was alive with fire and smoke, flames licking the blackened walls as shadows danced like restless spirits. The prisoner lay strapped to the rack, pale and trembling, chains biting into wrists and ankles. Sweat slicked their skin, every breath a ragged plea.
You emerged from the darkness, every step deliberate, letting the soft click of your heels echo through the cavernous room. Your eyes glimmered with heat, claws scraping along the rack as you circled, tracing the curves of the prisoner’s body without touching—yet teasing enough to make them shiver.
Crowley was already there, his presence like a storm of danger and desire. He walked around the rack, hands hovering, gaze sharp and calculating. “I told you,” he murmured, voice silk wrapped around steel, “I own everything in this place. That includes you.”
You leaned in close, your voice a sultry whisper only he could hear. “Oh, I know,” you purred, letting your tail curl around the prisoner’s ankle, “and I love reminding them of it.”
Crowley’s eyes flicked to you, approval glittering in their depths. His fingers brushed along the prisoner’s jaw with false tenderness, sending a shiver down their spine. “Pain,” he murmured, “is a beautiful thing when delivered… properly.”
You stepped closer, claws trailing along the prisoner’s ribs, nails teasing just enough to elicit a gasp. “Yes,” you murmured, voice low and throaty. “But the trembling, the begging… that’s the sweetest part.”
The prisoner whimpered, eyes darting between you and Crowley. Your lips brushed against his ear, teeth grazing the lobe just slightly. “Do you see it?” you whispered. “The fear. The anticipation. It’s intoxicating.”
Crowley’s laugh was dark, low, approving. “Show me everything,” he breathed, gripping your wrist possessively, guiding your touch along the prisoner’s skin.
You moved with predatory grace, circling the rack like a shadow, teasing and tormenting with calculated precision. Every touch, every whisper, every shiver of fear and desire pulled Crowley closer, eyes locked on yours.
“You’ve outdone yourself,” he murmured, low and pleased, watching the way your fingers traced along the prisoner’s stomach, catching their every flinch. “I may have to keep you around… for more than just this.”
Your lips pressed against the side of his neck, teeth grazing lightly. “Oh, I think you already have,” you whispered, voice dripping heat and dark amusement.
Together, you orchestrated the torment like a symphony of suffering. Crowley guided your hands, showing you the exact pressure, the perfect rhythm to elicit cries, gasps, and shudders. You leaned close to him at every opportunity, letting your lips brush his neck, whispering dangerous things only he could hear.
“Attachment is for humans,” you murmured, your voice a shiver of heat, “we… we enjoy the fire together.”
His laugh was approving, dark, possessive. “Then let’s see how far this fire can burn,” he whispered, hand gripping your wrist and guiding your movements as you trailed along the prisoner’s chest and sides.
The prisoner’s cries filled the chamber, but your attention was as much on Crowley as it was on them. Every glance between the two of you sparked heat, every shared smirk a dark promise. You moved with him, feeding off the power between you, the thrill of the torment, the almost intimate connection of shared control.
Your lips brushed his ear again. “Do you feel it? The power?” you breathed. “The way they tremble… and the way we own it?”
Crowley’s hands roamed along your back now, pulling you closer, possessive and demanding. “I feel it,” he whispered, low and dangerous, “and I want more.”
You pressed yourself against him, brushing along his chest as you guided the prisoner’s struggles with precision. The flames danced across your skin, across his, across the chains that bound your prey. Every movement, every gasp, every shiver was a part of the symphony—the ritual you and Crowley conducted together.
By the time it ended, the prisoner lay broken, the chains slack and useless. Sweat, blood, and smoke filled the chamber. But you and Crowley were untouched by exhaustion, hearts still racing, eyes locked with a fire that burned hotter than the flames around you.
He brushed a hand along your cheek, thumb tracing a dark line of satisfaction across your jaw. “You’re mine,” he murmured, voice low, dangerous, possessive.
You smiled, letting your forehead rest against his. “And you’re mine,” you whispered back, feeling the pulse of power, of fire, of something dark and endless flowing between you. “Always.”
The chamber echoed with silence now, but the fire—your fire—was far from extinguished.
Alright I know I found this late, but I still wanted to participate. So, here’s my suptober day one, prompt was pumpkin. I drew Crowley, with a Jack o lantern head, (which has a devils trap painted on the side) Hes stuck! 😂
