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Between a Dream

A Supernatural Smuturday Drabble

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

A/N: Happy Smuturday! xoxo Stu

It was clouded and yet familiar. A rough hand slid up your thigh as your body curled against his. Warm breath coated your ear, soon the dampness of your folds was met with wandering fingers. You whimpered as Dean began to nip at your shoulder. When his tongue and teeth deepened their pull, you awoke. Realizing the delicious dream was real, you began to quickly return the affections.

His morning wood had been lazily poking the curve of your ass, determinedly you reached back to pull him closer, it slid nicely between your shifting thighs. His cowboy quality backside pinched beneath his shorts in your hand. He growled as you began to roll your hips, teasing his length and electrifying the early morning air. The haze of sleep and the want spiraling into a desperate frenzy, quickly you slid your panties to the side and released Dean through the fly of his boxers. The cotton barriers overcome at last.

He entered you on a whisper, each inch filling the growing need of your dreams. His strong arm snaked around your torso, pulling you close, allowing him to tease your nipple through your tank top. Your head tilted back, exposing your neck to his scruff, the heat and pricking sensations sparking the fuse at both ends.

It was a race and you were determined he finished first. You straightened, pushing against his hypnotic rhythm, with a gentle pulse of your core you had him groaning your name. You refused to relent, increasing the pace whether he met you or not. All too soon he realized what you were doing, shoving his hand back into your sleekness, fondling your swollen clit as you bounced dangerously against him.

“Dean?” You asked coyly. He grunted he heard you, kissing your hairline. You purred as he propped your top leg up letting him hit your sweet spot.

“Y/N?” Dean asked darkly, you threw your hand back and tugged at his ear, an oddly erogenous zone of his, you tickled the lobe between your fingers, increasing each dip of your pace. Quicker than you had hoped he was calling out into the cool bunker walls. “Oh, fuck, hon. Hmmmmm.”

He didn’t stop touching you as he eased out of your heat, but the frenzy was replaced by groggy caresses and deep kisses. You both ignored the tang of each other’s morning breaths, relishing in the firmness of each other’s lips. Your climax was a burst dam, flooding your senses as Dean’s plump mouth puckered over your perked nipple, his strong fingers laced with your essence. He rode you down, letting the waves break slower and slower. You fell back asleep with his chin against your temple, him whispering his gratitude into your hair.

And suddenly you were again in the backseat of the Impala, the pothole sent the frame and your teeth rattling. Sam was folded against the passenger side window and Dean was humming softly to the radio.

@dontshootmespence

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Heavy Autumn Rain

Bit late on the bandwagon for N7 day, but I wrote a brief drabble from Caylina Shepard's perspective on a rainy day after the war. I realized I hadn't actually written any post-war stuff for her, so I thought I'd give you all a glimpse of what I envision for the end of Worlds Away.

***

Cayli Shepard cups her hands around a mug of black coffee and bends her body forward over the table so the steam wafts over her face. Outside, the steady rain of late fall streams from grey skies; she can see the apple trees with their stubborn remnants of brown leaves drooping under the onslaught. It is peaceful. But then, most things are peaceful now, since her retirement. She did not go back to the Alliance when she recovered, after the war. Kaidan had insisted – well, everyone had insisted – Commander Shepard had earned her rest. And while they had put her back together again, this time there would be no returning to combat. Shepard rubs at the joint of her left knee, where flesh and bone give way to metal prosthetic. Her knee always aches when it rains.

When she stands, the golden retriever at her feet lifts her head and thumps her tail before following. Shepard stretches down a hand to stroke the top of Daisy’s head and goes to stand before the French doors off the breakfast nook, watching the rain fall on the deck and the long slope of the grassy backyard. She sips at her coffee, studying how the rain has pressed the remnants of the vegetable garden to the ground, broken and browning stalks bowed under the weight of the water.

“ ‘Everything blooming bows down in the rain,’ hm, Daisy,” Shepard quotes to herself. The dog looks up, fixes wide brown eyes on Shepard’s face and Shepard chuckles. “Or would, if anything was still blooming.” The poem she has just quoted wraps itself around Shepard’s thoughts like a warm embrace – it’s “Heavy Summer Brain” - by Jane Kenyon, of course.

Shepard smiles, wraps her arms around herself, and thinks of Kaidan. He’s been gone for a week, off on Spectre business. “ ‘I miss you steadily, painfully,’ ” she murmurs, thinking the words are apt for how she feels whenever he’s gone. She opens her ‘tool, snaps a quick picture of Daisy and the N7 mug in her hand and beyond, the rain on the lawn.

The message she sends to Kaidan along with the picture reads:

The grasses in the field have toppled, and in places it seems that a large, now absent, animal must have passed the night. The hay will right itself if the day

turns dry. I miss you steadily, painfully. None of your blustering entrances or exits, doors swinging wildly on their hinges, or your huge unconscious sighs when you read something sad, like Henry Adams’s letters from Japan, where he traveled after Clover died.

Everything blooming bows down in the rain: white irises, red peonies; and the poppies with their black and secret centers lie shattered on the lawn.

-Miss you. Love Cayli.

#the gull writes things #caylina shepard #n7 day #happy n7 day everyone!#quickie drabble