fancy tunes

The One with the Giant Poking Device

Characters - Dean x Reader

Summary - An awkward moment while sharing a bed leads to an interesting morning.

Word Count - 5864

Warnings - Swearing (duh), injury (very slight),smut, oral sex/face riding (female), fingering, unsafe sex (remember irl to wrap it before you tap it)

A\N - This was written for mine and Jill’s Hubba Bubba Birthday writing challenge. Thank you to @sis-tafics for reading through and encouraging me. And a special thank you to @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog for betaing. You ladies are the absolute best!

Tags at the bottom

Originally posted by jessica-bones-winchester


Long, calloused fingers grip you tightly, digging into your soft curves as his hands pull you flush against his body. The heat spreads, radiating from him to sink into your bones, flowing through you to settle heavily in your center. The strength in the arms wrapping around you, the firmness of his chest against your full breasts, the gentleness of his hands as they caress you, all of it makes your breath slow, your heart race. You can’t hold back the low whine in your throat when you feel his hardening length pressing against your lower belly. He dips his head to nuzzle into your neck, his warm breath fanning over you. He nudges your head back further, the scruff on his jaw a delicious burn on your skin. Soft sighs catch in your throat as his lips glide over you and you can feel his cock twitch against you in response.

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Notes

Just a little Doctor x Rose fic I hammered out this morning…the idea popped in my head and I had to get it out. :) I wrote it in a bit of a rush, so sorry…it’s not very polished.

Nine x Rose, Ten x Rose, Twelve X Rose - MultiEra

Rated G - 1526 words - read it on ao3! 

Originally posted by thatcatchingfeeling


One of the things that the Doctor noticed shortly after he brought her on board was that Rose wrote a lot.

It wasn’t anything substantial, really, she certainly wasn’t composing sonnets or writing a novel. They were mostly reminders to herself, little lists or little notes quickly jotted down on whatever paper she could find to help her remember things she may forget. But the Doctor was somewhat less than pleased the first time he found a note taped to the Tardis’ refrigerator a couple of weeks after he took her on board, reminding them to pick up milk when they stopped off on Earth.

 Domestics.

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Average Day

Written and Submitted by  silentgong

My workday has ended and I walk alongside the riverbank, the mud clinging to my shoes with each step.

The clouds above block out the sun, giving the air a coolness that accentuates the mist coming off the river. The plants near the water’s edge have a great variety of leaves and flowers.

The birds are yelling at each other, fighting over whatever scraps of food they can find. The biggest one chasing off the smaller ones for his food and place on a big rock.

The faint sounds of a jazz band drift from the light industrial area across the river. Its fancy tune reminds me of a finely crafted clock, with all the pieces working together perfectly, intentionally.

In the distance, a rusty bridge falls into disrepair. Its design stands in vain as it slowly decays.

I breathe deeply and sit next to the river, the sogginess of the mud slowly seeping into my construction pants. I cough a bit and look around

The seagulls seem to settle down as the faint sound of the breeze replaces them.

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If I die - Six of Crows tribute
Written by toastyhat

Original poem written by @toastyhat ! It’s not very fancy in terms of tune because I’m not a composer in any sense, but this is the tune I read it to when I first saw her post. c:

I finally got around to recording this thing, except funny story, that involved discovering that my parents’ closet is the best place we have to record. He then proceeded to walk in and wonder why the hell his offspring was singing in his closet.

currently hiring a lil bih 2 make my lines 4 me nd play all da choice tunes i fancy in order on me laptop 4 me… apply if u down

Non Caf Iced Coffee {S.M}

non requested//a Shawn imagine where you and Shawn both meet at the studio

“Y/n, there’s a new artist at the studio and John needs you in recording room thirteen. You’ll be working with this kid for a while.” The secretary sighs as she points to the direction you were supposed to be headed. You sighed and nodded.
You worked at a record label as the assistant, and hopefully a producer one day, for the main producer. John could be kind of mean with the new recording artists, especially the younger ones. And since you were only eighteen years old, you were often sent to the recording rooms with him for the new artists or possible new artists so John doesn’t go insane on them. It got aggravating at times sure, because you always had to rephrase the rude things John would say to the recording artists in a nicer way. And you were sick and tired of getting hit on by teenage boys- and girls for that matter- whenever you walked into that recording room and it was a teenager. You start to sulk down to room thirteen at the end of the hallway. Before you make it to the beginning of the hallway, you turn your neck back to face the secretary.
“How old is this kid?” You gulp, hoping to God that this kid was a lot older than you. She sighs, knowing exactly what you are thinking. She knew that you hated working with people your age. On more than one occasion hands wound up in places you did not want them.
The secretary thumbs through the papers, and looks up at you with sad eyes. You knew exactly what that meant.
“Eighteen.” She said. Your face fell. You praying that he was gay or thought you were ugly, which is something you have found yourself wishing for an awful lot lately. The secretary gave you a shrug you had grown so accustomed to receiving from her. You let out of huff and turned on your heel and started to walk off.
“Oh, and the artist wants a non caf iced coffee.” She adds. You stopped in your tracks and your blood boiled. You hated when you had to run errands for anyone rather than your boss. It drove you insane when the artists would treat you as their assistant.
“Okay.” You said as calmly as you could, without your nails digging into your hand.
“Don’t spit in it, y/n.”
“It was one time.”
•••••••
You trudged down to the recording room and opened the large wooden door. You walked in and heard an almost angelic sound. It wasn’t even an exaggeration. This kid didn’t need any of the fancy auto tune that we could work with to make artists sound better. Your feet started to move forward, your flats hitting the ground with no sound at all. He was sitting on a stool, with a guitar on his lap, as he sang and strummed.He wasn’t even in the sound both, he just seemed to be warming up. Not many artists played their own instruments on the track. He was attractive too. He had this smile when he sang that made you melt, it always made you happy when you saw the artists happy when singing, even if they were annoying and self centered. He looked like he was at his best when playing that guitar. You watched him sing and play with such passion for what seemed like forever. He strummed the last notes and looked up and smiled.
“Was that good?” He asks, blushing at little. God, he was adorable. John nodded and shrugged, his classic move.
“Your vocals were all over the place during the bridge.” He says blandly. He doesn’t like showing emotion around the younger ones to push them harder to impress him, even if they are amazing and talented.
“It was good, really good.” You say with a smile to him. He looks down at his hands and his cheeks turn red.
“Thank you.” He says and looks back up. John looks over at you and rolls his eyes, also being sick of the teenagers hitting on you.
“Shawn, this is y/n, my assistant. She’ll be helping us out.” He says pointing to you.
“Hi.” He says with a little smile, making you blush.
“I got your coffee, but I must add, I’m not just a girl who runs errands.” You say handing it to him, trying not to sound mean, but also not wanting to make it seem like a joke.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I told John that I could go get it myself but…” He trailed off taking the cup from my hand. “Thank you, it’s very nice of you.” He says with a smile.
“Your singing was also very nice.” You say with a slight laugh. You were shocked at yourself being so nice to this kid.
“Well, you are very nice.” He says and nudges you with his elbow. You look down at your feet and smile.
“I’m excited to be working with you.” He says. “I’m not used to working with such pretty girls.” He says and looks down, hoping he didn’t offend you it seemed. You weren’t usually called pretty, you were called “hot” or “sexy”. People didn’t seem to say anything sweet when they hit on you.
“Thank you, that’s so sweet of you. I’m excited to be working with such a handsome and talented artist.” You smile back. He looks up at you and his face lights up.
“Maybe we shou-” Shawn was cut off by John.
“You two can flirt and plan dates later, now we have work to do.” John smiles at you a little, and can barely be seen. You just smirked back.
“Yeah, I wanna hear more of those killer vocals.”

missing someone isn’t fun so I wrote an imagine !!

some OC stuff :u

i was playing around with a different coloring technique and also testing out some kyle t webster brushes I just bought :D 

the characters’ designs have changed considerably since i started this pic but i was just using it for coloring practice so whatevs! 

"Deals and Dinner" One Shot Part 2

Author: the-king-of-hell-darling

Original Imagine: none

Warnings: none

Fic: (~2,100 words)

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Crowley was with me for my final night on earth. The year I’d had to sort out my worldly affairs had gone quickly. I’d quit my job with the law firm, set my will down with my lawyers so everything went to an orphanage down the road, I’d tidied my place as best I could, and then, with all the days I had left, I’d made sure to enjoy the pleasures of being human.

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