@bloodchic || inbox meme reply || accepting!
i ought to leap over this counter and bash your fucking balls in.
this demon cunt threatening his balls is about as fucking intimidating as an ankle biter dog trying to gnaw its way through his boot. that's how he sees her now. nothing more than a fucking speed bump on the road to getting his brother back. sooner she's gone? the better sam'll be and dean makes no attempt to hide that fact when sam's not around to get that butthurt, sour-faced disapproval pout going on. insults become insults poured on top of more.
should've killed her deader than dead years ago.
regretfully, he didn't and now that he's been to her spawning ground and dug his way back out of the grave he was thrown in upon escaping? something in dean is twisted and wrong and he feels it in his bones while everyone else tells him he's making shit up in his head. that he's being a princess or needs to get over it. he can't and there's reasons why that dig deeper than BOOHOO will ever cure. there's a piece of him that matches her laced underneath the grace buzzing in his skin, his muscles bone and soul. a dark that he fucking desperately wishes he could carve right out of her until she's left---fucking CHRIST. where the hell was he going with that. the coldness that greets her newest lash out is soon veiled by his trademark raised brow and sardonic stare.
mask in place, he leans against the countertop and lifts up the bottle tipping the neck to her in a toast. "would love to see ya try getting over the damn thing first. big leap for you, huh? and when ya land? wouldn't mind having a reason to apologize to sam for ripping that smoke right out the whole i blow into your throat and send your bitch back home."
