#kansasbred

Send me a ‘shh’ for my muses reaction to yours sliding their hand up my muses leg.

"What?"

         "No you're not."

                               "What?"

Put 'I want you.' In my inbox for my muse's reaction.

          Now he’s just being cute. Hadn’t they learned from their one night stand? She’s not complainin’. Winchester was the love ‘em and leave ‘em sort. The fact he’s back means she’s pretty damn good, and an ego boost can go a long way.

          Still, she’s not sure she wants to go back down this road with him. He’s like a bad habit, and she really needs to kick it. How to get around the flooding arousal? 

          First, stop looking him in the eye. Cheeky bastard knows he’s attractive. Focus. Good girl.

Put "Hey, Lover" in my ask for my reaction after a one-night stand with you

          There’s a warm body pressed to her back, and if she were less shitfaced, she’d have a knife to their throat. If they’re willing to sleep next to her, there’s no obvious need to kill them. She lets it go; she presses closer.

          Well, she was pressing closer until a familiar scent catches her nose. Leather and rocksalt. Fuck. Her eyes snap open. This was not good. It’s not good.

          They really shouldn’t have done this. That much was obvious by their life choices. Hunter and demon? They don’t play house and shag. Then again, when did anything Winchester go by the books?

          “Fucking hell.” She groans. But she can’t complain too much. He wasn’t so bad.

          Don’t judge her for remembering more than she’s admitting too. They have an unspoken agreement that hating each other was safe ground.

          She’s reaching behind herself, grabbing one of those perky nipples he’s so proud of and twisting. “Hey, baby. You have five seconds to agree never to admit this happened, or this hand is ripping something off a little further south.”

Send a ♕ if you're too intimidated to talk/roleplay with me

pumpkin--bred

"Where is he? Where is my baby?"

Nora's cries are pitiful; echoing through the halls of the Murder House. She could almost remember the first time she held Thaddeus in her arms. He was so sweet and fragile -- her same blue eyes and she was certain he would have been blonde. He would have been her spitting image and looked nothing like that awful failure of a father, Charles.  Why had she ever let him out of her sight? 

DEANS FACE IN THAT GIF I CAN’T BREATHE