paperbackcranes

[paperbackcranes]

you’re thinking about him and his boobs, aren’t you

[paperbackcranes]

tbh i need to be fucked into the mattress so hard i forget how many times i came

[paperbackcranes]

Resentment of the Dairy Variety

a deancas drabble (in the literal sense because it's 100 words exactly)

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.: :･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.: :･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.: :･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

When Dean befriended an angel, he thought that meant he’d have special privileges or something. That an angel would be kind and giving with some fuckass halo. But no, Cas was a dick that finished milk without replacing the carton. 

Worse, he walked around with the milk mustache shamelessly, unaware of Dean’s inner turmoil. The resentment boiled inside him. How dare he? There was only one solution, one way to prove Dean’s point. He stomped up to Cas. 

“Hello, Dean. Can–”

Cas was silenced as Dean’s mouth planted onto his top lip, licking. 

“That’ll teach you, asshole.”

Sam watched, horrified. 

[paperbackcranes]

you're an angel (i'm a dog)

robert reynolds (sentry) x softdom!reader

word count: 1.4k content: gender neutral reader, smut (mdni), pwp, possessiveness, very slight petplay, clothed sex, soft dom reader, praise, slight degradation

In a moment, you were on top of Bob. He looked stunned as you loomed over him, legs straddling his waist. A single hand rested on his sternum, pressing him into the bed. During the quick tussle, his shirt had ridden up, revealing barely an inch of his toned stomach. His hair splayed out on the pillow. He looked like a complete mess. You could feel the rise of his chest as he inhaled sharply, holding it as he stared up at you, pupils blown. You cocked your head to the side. 

He shuddered underneath you. The truth was, you both knew that if he wanted to, he could get out. There was more than enough strength hidden behind those baggy clothes to simply pick you up and have his way with you, but, sweet man that he was, he stayed put. 

He would look good in a collar.

The thought flashed across your mind and, for a split second, you allowed yourself to imagine it. Supple black leather fastened around his pale neck, just loose enough that he could feel it press against his throat when he swallowed. Like a dog. 

But just like that, the image disappeared. Bob’s hands hovered helplessly above your waist, fingers twitching like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch. 

“I’m sorry, I just don’t really know–” he petered off, hesitant. 

His voice was scratchy and out of breath, like he had just run a mile. His lips were slightly parted as he breathed heavily. You felt the same, your heart thumping wildly. The things you could do to him. 

“What don’t you know?” you replied quietly. 

Bob’s eyes flitted down your body, eyelashes fluttering as he took in the sight of you above him. You felt his gaze like a physical presence as it traveled from your eyes to your lips, then your neck, then your chest, and finally to your legs spread wide over his waist. Somehow, you knew that if you rocked back, you’d feel the bulge in his pants. Then, just as quickly as he had looked, he screwed his eyes shut and shook his head. 

“I’m sorry. Oh god, I’m sorry.”

Your breath hitched. Even like this, he felt like he had to apologize.

“Hey, no,” you started, even softer than before. 

The hand on his chest released some of the pressure, trailing up to rest at the junction between his neck and shoulder. You pressed your thumb into the hollow of his collarbone, reassuringly. 

“Look at me.”

Bob’s eyes opened at the gentle command, but only a bit. He was still looking to the side, avoiding your gaze. His face was covered in a delicate blush that spread down his neck. You wondered absently how far it went. Your thumb dug in a bit more. Not enough to hurt, just to remind him.

“Bob. Look at me,” you repeated.

He followed your instructions this time, guilty eyes meeting yours. His hands had fallen to his sides, but you wanted them on you. 

“What do you want?”

His eyebrows crinkled in the middle, pleading silently for you to just understand. But you needed him to say it. You kept your face neutral and encouraging. Finally, he caved, ribcage stuttering as he exhaled his words. 

“I want you. I want you to touch me. Do anything you want. I want to feel good. Please,” he licked his lips, staring at yours. “Anything.”

His words hung in the air for one painstakingly tense moment. Then you replied.

“Okay.”

You shifted back, then rolled your hips down onto his, punching a groan out of Bob’s throat. Your brain went blank in shock. He was already fully hard. It was obscene. A laugh caught in your lungs, stifled by a moan when you pressed down again, desperate for friction. 

Bob’s hands flew up to your legs, but he didn’t grab you like you expected. He was still hovering, still scared. You shook your head and, with your free hand, guided him to grasp your waist. Thankfully, he got the hint, holding you like you were his lifeline. His fingers were long, very long. Fuck, did you want him. His touch felt like a burn when the hem of your shirt rode up with the motion. As soon as he got a taste for it, he became greedy, seeming to forget his former misgivings in favor of getting as much skin-to-skin contact as he could. You continued to move above him, relishing in that simple joy as his hands grazed the side of your chest. 

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” you smiled at him. 

To your surprise, his hips thrust upward at the sliver of praise, fingers digging in. The movement destabilized you and you fell forward. You just barely stopped yourself from crushing him with a hand planted next to his head. His face was much closer now. Your eyes locked, unable to look away as you continued to ride him through your clothes. The blood in your veins sang, pumping wildly. 

It was moments like this in which you were reminded of the quiet strength he suppressed. You imagined coaxing it out of him like a feral stray from a kennel, avoiding the snapping teeth, training it how to heel, and how to enjoy doing so. 

Bob, however, was already too much like a dog. Too soft, too sweet, too lovely. He was the one to throw you forward onto him, but he already looked sorry about it. How could anyone yell at him? All you wanted to do was pet his hair and tell him how well he was doing lying there. 

“Good. Good boy.”

The endearment escaped your lips of its own will, bypassing the usual filters. The words were sickly sweet, positively saccharine. You worried for a second that it was too far, but then, to your delight, he whimpered. He threw his head back into the pillow, gasping as his hips started thrusting up with renewed vigor. 

You realized what was going to happen just a few seconds before the orgasm hit him. He shuddered through it, making pathetic little noises as he rutted against your body. Your hips kept moving like a pendulum, never losing their momentum as you guided him to completion. Finally, he slumped down, chest heaving in the silence. 

The blood roared in your ears. Then, slowly, your gaze dropped from his face to between your legs, where a dark stain began to seep through the grey fabric of his sweatpants. Now that, that, was fucking obscene. 

You looked back up to meet Bob’s eyes, glazed over and hazy in his post-orgasmic bliss. His eyebrows anxiously pressed together in the middle. Stray strands of mousy hair were plastered to his sweaty forehead. He was still catching his breath, but was able to stutter out a single phrase.

“I’m sorry.”

You wanted to eat him alive. You swallowed, then hummed. 

“That’s okay,” you replied absently. You ran your finger above his eyebrows, tucking the errant locks of hair out of the way. “Can I see?”

His face flamed red, but he nodded. 

“Yeah, you can. That’s– that’s fine. I’m just a little sensitive, so I–”

His words cut off as you rose just enough to get your fingers hooked in his waistband to tug his pants and boxers down at the same time. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his spent cock, half hard, completely covered in his own come. He looked like a mess. There was a faint buzzing right underneath your skin, vibrating with want. 

Then, as if in a daze, you began to move your hips again, grinding down on him. 

Bob moaned, fingers digging in.

“Ah– what are you doing?”

“You said anything, didn’t you? Right? I didn’t get to come yet.”

Breathlessly, you grinned at him and cocked your head to the side.

“Or do you want me to stop?”

You slowed down. He just shook his head.

“No, no, it’s fine. I did say anything, didn’t I?” he looked dazed, eyes hooded as they watched the slickness between you start to seep through your pants. 

“Good. In fact–” you began to climb off of him, balancing on one leg as you peeled your pants and underwear off in one movement. “I didn’t even get to feel you properly.”

[paperbackcranes]

starting a new writing sideblog to stretch my writer legs! will be both nsfw and sfw snippets that aren't full pieces. asks are open for both gen and fandom prompts & requests, and i'd be very happy if someone were to pop in there :) character x reader is on the table!

fandoms/ships i write for: 911, supernatural, dc/batman (superbat, batfam), drarry, iwtv, wolfstar, merthur, lotr/the hobbit, and more

limits/things i will not write: intense gore, incest, underage