walk the line and watch it curve

Hard and Fast

Title: Hard and Fast

Summary:  Imagine climbing into John’s lap and riding him hard and fast

Author:  Dean’s Dirty Little Secret

Characters:  John Winchester x female reader

Word Count:  686

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, fingering, slightly rough sex, unprotected sex,

Author’s Notes: This is nothing but smut. Written for my amazing bestie @mamapeterson because she deserves it.

Originally posted by negandarylsatisfaction

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People who live by the sea  
understand eternity.
They copy the curves of the waves,
their hearts beat with the tides,
& the saltiness of their blood
corresponds with the sea.

They know that the house of flesh
is only a sandcastle
built on the shore,
that skin breaks
under the waves
like sand under the soles
of the first walker on the beach
when the tide recedes.

Each of us walks there once,
watching the bubbles
rise up through the sand
like ascending souls,
tracing the line of the foam,
drawing our index fingers
along the horizon
pointing home.

Erica Jong, from “People Who Live,” Becoming Light: Poems New and Selected (Open Road Media, 2013)

tattoo artist!luke so often moved his fingers across your skin, drawing invisible outlines, patterns he envisioned you’d maybe someday let him skillfully etch onto you permanently, it was perhaps his favourite thing to do as you lounged across him over the couch or curled up beside him under the thin sheets of his bed. So it caught him off guard when you caught his fingers in yours, hand clasping tight to halt his movements as he imagined a delicate design across your arm, your body shuffling until you were perched on his waist, lips pressing a quiet ‘my turn’ to his ear. His eyes watched carefully as you slowly danced one finger over one of very few blank spaces of skin, swirling softly enough to elicit a trail of goosebumps in your wake; drawing lines from one freckle to the next along his chest. Walking your fingers over the dip in his collarbone and across the curve of his adams apple you let them wander, tracing over the curve of his full bottom lip until you reached the faint freckles scattered over his nose. Teeth chewing thoughtfully on your own bottom lip, you connected them all in clusters, groups of stars littered across his face, his nose scrunched gently at your delicate touch and you breathed out a laugh in response, your eyes moving from his freckles to his eyes, “Like constellations,” you murmured, continuing the travels of your fingertips over his skin. “Like my own personal galaxy.”

As He Did It Again

Here is the prequel for He Did It Again

Dean watched as the man ran his hand down Y/N’s back.
‘M-Mmm. Na-uh,’ he mumbled, downing his drink.

This guy was getting too close for comfort. He watched as she sat down on the stool, the dress moving with her body, hugging her curves. Her breasts incredibly well highlighted by the low neck line.

His face darkened as the guy put his hand on Y/N’s thigh and squeezed, before running his fingers up a little bit further.

‘Hell no,’ Dean growled, grabbing his whiskey.

He walked over to Y/N and her “date” and sat down with them. Watching as Y/N’s face went from flirty to pissed.

‘Hey Sweetheart, how’s things?’ Dean asked.

‘And you are?’ the date commented, looking between the two.

‘Your reason to leave. Now.’

‘Dean,’ she warned through gritted teeth.

The date went to stand and Y/N stopped him.

‘You don’t have to go. He’s being a bitch. I’d really like you to stay.’

The date looked at her, and Dean watched, the seductive smile on her lips.

‘He will leave us alone. I promise,’ she purred, biting her lip.

The guy leant down and kissed her, the action causing Dean to see red. He slammed his glass down, causing the two to jump apart.

‘Dean, I swear to God.’

‘Fine, Sweetheart.’

Dean got up and went to leave before stopping and speaking softly in the bloke’s ear. Y/N watched as he paled and stood up and left.

‘What did you say?’ she growled.

‘Nothing, just that if he planned on ever having sex again he’d find another date.’

Y/N glared at him.

‘He was a douche, Y/N. You can do better.’

‘I didn’t care about better,’ she snapped. ‘It was one night, not a God damn marriage.’

‘I don’t care. You should still have standards. And he clearly wasn’t good enough.’ Dean sighed, not wanting to fight, ‘You deserve better, Y/N.’

‘I wouldn’t know. I never get the chance to find out.’

Dean watched as she grabbed her purse and stood up.

‘Y/N, wait. Please.’

‘Screw you Winchester. I’m done with your bullshit. I warned you last time, never to interfere again.’

Dean watched helplessly as she stormed out.

‘Y/N,’ he called. ‘Y/N!’

He walked outside and lost sight of her. It was going to be a long night.

more

sometimes i just think about how pretty people are. like just people in general. maybe pretty isn’t the right word, but i feel like every single person has something about them that is captivating. at bus stops or train stations or when I’m bored in class i sort of watch everyone walking by or sitting around and pick out all the things that make them art. like the glint of this guys nose ring when he tilts his head to the clouds so the slivers of sun fall on his face, or the way the curve of her eyeliner matches the sharp edge of her jawline, or the way that person’s suit is all clean lines and newly pressed fabric, but their hair is ruffling in the wind in a way that puts it all into a muffled contrast. i just watch people and pick these things out, and its so interesting because every single person has something about them that could draw you towards them, no matter age or gender or whatever else. I could list on for ages, the curls of her hair falling onto the smooth skin of her neck, their arms slung around each others so carelessly but with so much affection, the swirl of her dress around her thighs was she walks, almost magical in how it falls softly. its even more interesting when you do with with friends and family. you pick up on all these tiny little details that could quite easily be irrelevant but somehow they warm you up and make you love these people more. and then you have a catalogue in your brain, and if you’re like me and can never quite remember what exactly someone looks like unless you’re looking at them at the very moment, then you can go back to your list and maybe instead remember the way they push their glasses back up or the way they laugh their real laugh or the way they twist their hair as they tie it up or the way their fingers curl and eyelashes still when theyre sleeping. i’ve found that noticing the details adds a depth to everything to see. focus on the exact colours of the leaves floating the the ground, the warming weight of your coffee in your hand, the tone of the buskers voice against the coins falling into the pile. maybe you can get the whole picture without the details, but i think the details somehow just make the whole picture something more