Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/807359.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/John_Winchester, John_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Parent/Child_Incest, Rule_63, Virginity, Heterosexual_Sex,
      Possessive_Behavior, Dirty_Talk, Age_Difference, Rough_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-05-18 Words: 4709
****** Green Looks Good on You ******
by ya3ani
Summary
     Dean's always been Daddy's girl; she's always been the one to kneel
     between his legs and make him feel good.
     But Sam wants a turn, too.
     (girl!Sam & girl!Dean)
Notes
     This is something I started writing ages ago for the SPN kink meme. I
     finished it last night but I can't find the meme link. This was
     vaguely the prompt, though: John/Dean, John/Sam, jealousy about who
     gets to ride Daddy's cock, lots of petnames.
See the end of the work for more notes
Sometimes, Dean is such a bitch.
She's across the kitchen table right now, sucking on a coconut popsicle,
nibbling little white pieces every now and again like the popsicle gives a fuck
whether her red, full lips are touching it or not. Sam glares harder, but Dean
only sucks more, her cheeks hollowing out till the outline juts out of her
right cheek, slowly melting in her mouth. Her mouth is beautiful and she knows
it, a card she always plays with daddy whenever she can: pouting, whispering,
licking her lips. Sam just knows she can't compete. She's taller than Dean,
with tiny boobs to hold up to Dean's perfect 34Ds, and coltish arms and legs
that make Sam look like a rejected model next to Dean's perfectly tapered waist
and thick thighs. In frustration Sam tucks her long brown hair behind an ear,
going back to trying to set Dean afire by gaze alone -- it's never worked
before, but Sam can be patient.
Dean finally pops the popsicle out, a line of spit connecting it to her wet
lips, one lick breaking that last tenuous connection.
"Aw, you jealous baby sister?" Dean asks mockingly, waving the popsicle once in
Sam's direction. "Last night daddy came to my bed. As usual he chose me, not
your skinny ass, and -- "
"Girls?" comes a voice from the hall, along with a stomping tread that makes
Dean and Sam alike sit up straight in their seats.
"In here, daddy," shouts Dean, using that wavering, musical voice that Sam can
never replicate without sounding like an idiot.
When Daddy walks in, Sam's breath catches. It always does, because he is
everything Sam could ever think to want. Work makes his fingers rough, a little
oil and grit sticking under them, but his voice is sheepskin-soft, always
caressing Sam with its low timbre and quiet orders. He's so much taller than
them both, of course, and at least eighty pounds heavier; he can pick them both
up at the same time, the right arm around Dean's waist and the left around
Sam's, though physical punishment is hardly ever necessary. There are never
shouting matches in this house, because when Daddy stares down at his two
girls, his dark brow shifting and his grey eyes swirling with untold promises,
they know to shape-up and do as they're told. It doesn't stop Sam and Dean from
fighting without end, though, especially in the awful two hours they have after
high-school and right before Daddy gets home.
"How're my darlin' girls?" asks Daddy when he comes into the room, slinging his
bag onto the kitchen table, the metal inside clunking heavily onto the oak. He
comes up behind Dean and kisses the top of her head, then drops a hand down to
her chin, forcing her face back so that he can take a kiss from her lips. Dean
opens her mouth and licks at Daddy, popsicle sitting forgotten on the table,
the white coconut melting into a thick, warm pool even as Daddy's blackened
fingers grip her face.
Daddy pulls away, and Sam breathes again. Sam wants a kiss like that.
Dropping a lazy hand to Dean's chest, Daddy tugs at her right breast under the
skimpy tanktop she's wearing, his fingers obvious beneath the sheer fabric.
"How was your day at school, Sam?" asks Daddy. Before Sam can answer, Dean
moans loudly, and Daddy looks down at her affectionately. "Little slut," he
says, and then sticks his cleanest finger -- his pinky -- into her gaping
mouth. Given something to do with her mouth, Dean is happy as a pig and mud,
forgetting even to lord it over Sam for a moment, her eyes shut in contentment.
Sam's anger is broken by Daddy's rebuke. "I asked you a question, Samantha."
Startling, Sam crosses her legs and lets her eyes drop demurely to the table.
Whenever she watches Dean and Daddy together, she gets a tingling between her
legs -- Sam knows it's arousal, from her 'Health and the Human Body' class at
school -- but Daddy told her that only he can touch her between her legs. She's
not allowed, because that belongs to him. "Yes sir. Sorry sir. School was
fine."
"Well that's good to hear." Daddy pulls his finger from Dean's mouth, making
Dean whimper in loss. "You know if you have problem you're to tell me?"
"Yes, sir."
Daddy nods and goes to the sink, where he washes his hands. He's thorough,
getting soak flecks under his fingernails and then scrubbing them out with the
harsh brush, running water over them till his nailbeds are only grey instead of
black. He towels off as usual, then walks to the head of the table, his seat
the largest. When he sits his chair seems to wheeze with the weight, his body
mastering everything around him effortlessly.
Across the table Dean's eyes are blown, her nipples standing up firm against
her tanktop and her lips fat from taking Daddy's bruising kisses. She licks her
lips as she looks at Daddy, her eyes trailing down Daddy's undershirt to his
dark jeans and the huge bulge of his cock. She's waiting for Daddy to give her
the word. Sure enough, Daddy looks straight to Dean and says,
"Babydoll, would you like your afternoon snack?"
In a second Dean has pushed her chair back and is rushing to between Daddy's
legs, where she sinks to her bare knees on the floor. She almost has his jeans
zipped open when Daddy slaps her hand lightly and takes her chin forcibly.
"Now, manners."
"Sorry, daddy," says Dean, breathless, eyes darting down to where Daddy's cock
is and then up to Daddy's face over and over.
"That's okay. Now do it right. Set a good example for Sammy."
Dean takes a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut with whatever she smells. Then
she says, words made strange by Daddy's harsh grip on her chin,
"Please Daddy, let me suck your cock."
"There we go," replies Daddy, letting Dean free. She's like an animal
unleashed, destroying the two layers between her and her Daddy, till she's got
the first two inches of Daddy's soft cock in her mouth and she's moaning. Daddy
sighs and runs a hand through her soft, silky blonde hair, knotting his hand in
it easily. He uses his control of her head to force his thickening cock into
her throat, choked sounds coming from the back of her mouth, her makeup
starting to water a little when he holds her nose against his navel for a few
seconds. She pops off, gasping and eyes watering, and looks up at Daddy like
he's an angel. He swipes a thumb over her lips, gathering the wet pre-come from
his cock, and pushes it back into her. He's taught his girls never to waste his
come.
Sam bites her lip to stay silent from the injustice of it all. The hardwood
floors of their kitchen are unforgiving, but Sam wants an afternoon snack, too,
and it isn't fair that Dean gets it all to herself.
"Get that cock back in your pretty throat," Daddy then orders, soft but
unyielding. The words are barely out of his mouth before Dean is throwing
herself back down, coating Daddy's cock in her own spit. Because she's proved
her dedication by suffocating and spluttering on his cock, Daddy lets her take
it slower, and he calls Sam over at last.
Every day while Daddy uses Dean's throat, Sam makes dinner. After long days on
the job Daddy likes a good mac n' cheese, because it's simple and fast. But
he's not home late today, and he tells Sam to make everyone shrimp and pasta
with alfredo.
The cooking is torture to Sam, every little gasp and slurp of Dean's like
pinpricks on her skin, reminding Sam of what Daddy doesn't think she's ready
for. But she is ready, she really is. She once took a popsicle, a watermelon
one, and practiced sucking it all the way down her throat, not breathing for
two minutes as she tried to imagine it as Daddy's cock. Of course, when she
tried two popsicles (which are much closer to Daddy's girth, actually), she'd
almost immediately choked, but at least she'd gotten one to tickle the dangly
thing in the back of her throat. Sam thinks of this as she cooks and drains the
pasta, listening to Daddy lean over and smack Dean's ass once or twice. That's
another thing Sam wants: Daddy's handprint on her, anywhere on her. Sometimes
Dean and Daddy will fuck on the couch or the kitchen table, and Daddy will be
rough, forcing Dean down onto her hands and knees, or even putting her face
against the floor. When he's done, his come leaking out of one of her holes,
his handprints are also bruised into her skin.
It's after those days that Dean is at her most insufferable, walking around and
flipping her hair in Sam's face, making sure to wear short-cut skirts that
show-off Daddy's fingerprints on her thighs.
Because sometimes, Dean is such a bitch.
The alfredo is such a staple of their house that Sam can make it even with
Dean's annoying background noise, and in twenty minutes Daddy is coming down
Dean's throat just as Sam announces that dinner is ready. Even though she's
jealous, Sam likes the time right after dinner because Dean's throat is usually
too sore and beat up for her to want to talk: it's Sam's time with Daddy. She
tells him about the huge science project coming up, how she's going to be using
models to illustrate the differences between atom configurations, and how the
teacher wants to have her present at the school festival. Nodding and hmming
encouragingly, Daddy watches her over the table, smiling when she gets excited
and laughing when she tells jokes. Sam loves this time -- but she wants more.
It's been almost a year now that she's had her period, it coming later than
Dean's had, and every night she hopes that daddy will think her enough of a
woman to come and take her like he takes Dean.
Dean cleans up the plates because Sam cooked, knocking them together as she
washes them a little carelessly. Sam sighs and walks over to help her dry. They
work together silently, Sam shooting little looks at Dean whenever she can,
wondering what Dean feels right now.
A heavy hand on her shoulder jolts Sam from her reverie. "You both make me so
proud. None of the guys at work believe that my two teenage girls don't fight,
but look at this."
Dean turns from where she's soaping a plate, lowering her eyes and smirking.
The black, sheer tanktop is pushed up from when she bent to blow Daddy, and she
hasn't bothered to readjust it, letting it drift higher and higher up her soft,
smooth stomach till it's coiling under her full breasts. On her lower half, the
little booty shorts clinging to her ass are almost wedged into her cleft.
"Should take a picture. They'd sure believe it then."
Daddy grunts once, and it's all the warning Dean gets before she gets a smack
on her exposed left cheek and Daddy up behind her, hands on her hips to hold
her down. She wriggles back against him, but it's obviously in vain -- he
doesn't even have to try to pin her in place.
"Think that's funny, sweetheart?" asks Daddy, almost growling. "Some men
looking at you and your sister, thinking about what they'd do if only they
could coax your knees apart." Daddy slides a hand down Dean's front and slips
into her little shorts, where Sam can see Daddy's finger working beneath the
material. It sounds so nasty, too, like Daddy is moving his hand around in
something wet, and Sam feels an answering wetness start up in her. "So? That
funny?" asks Daddy, moving his fingers faster now -- Sam can't tell if he's
going up inside Dean or if he's moving over her clit, but either way Dean is
moaning, obviously incapable of answering any questions as she quakes apart in
orgasm.
After Dean's come, her head lolls back onto Daddy's chest, her muscles going
completely lax. She looks like a doll held in his big hands, her body rubber
and incapable of any directed movement. Daddy takes his hand out of her shorts
and spreads his fingers, Dean's wetness catching the kitchen lights. Then he
pats her now-covered pussy three times, like someone might pet a dog that's
done a trick.
"Good girl," he says, and then takes Dean to bed, putting her down for a nap.
She always conks out after an orgasm.
Taking Dean's spot, Sam begins scrubbing their dirty pots mercilessly even as
she tries to ignore the flood of wetness soaking her underwear. When she's
done, Daddy sends her to her room to do homework and she fumes at her stupid,
unfair life.
The months go by quickly and soon Sam is in junior year, finally an
upperclassmen. It starts auspiciously when she takes the PSAT and scores in the
top percentile; the principal calls her to the office a week afterwards to
congratulate her and talk to her about becoming a National Merit Scholar. It's
wonderful news not only because it's finally an achievement that's just Sam's,
but also because she gets to tell Daddy about it. Daddy is always so happy when
Sam excels at school. He always smiles softly and rewards her with whatever she
wants for the day, whether a new outfit or a tub of ice cream or a day at a
local theme park.
This time, though, Sam plans on asking for a different type of reward.
If Sam remembers right, Daddy and Dean started fucking when Dean was fifteen
and a half. Sam is more than a year older than that, now, and she can't help
but feel the curl of distress when she tries to come up with reasons for why
Daddy won't touch her. She's not as beautiful as Dean and she knows it: her
breasts are still smaller, her face plainer, her skin not covered in sweet
freckles. She's tall but not willowy -- not a model but a giraffe, awkward and
ungainly. Maybe one day she'll grow into herself, but that day feels far away
when her sister is so perfect, with perky breasts and sultry, knowing smiles
that charm any man in a mere second. At the same time, Sam knows she isn't
ugly. Some boys at school follow her body with their eyes, flirting with her
inepetly, catcalling her when she refuses their attentions. Just last Friday a
football player asked her to the winter ball.
Not that Daddy would ever, ever share one of his girls. He's made it quite
clear who they belong to, and Sam doesn't even want to think of the spanking
Dean or she would get if Daddy caught them kissing or touching another boy.
That's the most difficult part, too -- the not touching. When Sam was fourteen,
Daddy had told her that she shouldn't touch her pussy, that her pussy belonged
to him. She'd mostly listened, but sometimes she couldn't help pushing against
her clit sharply, when Dean moaned loudly down the hallway while Daddy fucked
her. It was the same when she thought about Daddy's cock, or even, secretly,
other mens' cocks.
She never orgasmed, though, just gasped in frustration, unwilling to disobey
her Daddy.
That changes the day she asks for her reward.
"Top one percent!" Daddy drops the newspaper and looks up at Sam, his eyes
twinkling in the light of the television. "Sam, that's just amazin'."
"Thank you," she says, blushing with happiness. "The principal says it's been
more than a decade since anyone from our district got that."
Even more pride entering his stature, Daddy puts down the paper and stands.
Shocked, Sam stares. Daddy never puts down his paper. It's his post-dinner
routine, and it never, ever changes -- but the reading's sitting on the sofa,
ignored in favor of Sam.
The hug is a surprise but a happy one, and Sam buries her face close to her
Daddy's chin, winding her arms around his neck.
"I am so, so proud of you, Samantha," her Daddy whispers into her ear, his
breath ghosting the flesh there.
Sam's pussy gushes, her nipples tightening.
"Daddy," she says, almost a moan of disappointment when he pulls back, taking
all his hard, hard muscle with him.
"And what do you want, little girl? A new outfit?" Daddy rakes his eyes up and
down her body, but not in the same way he does to Dean -- it's not a sexy look
but an assessing one. Sam tries to swallow her disappointment. Even if Daddy
doesn't want her like he wants Dean, she's going to try anyway.
"I -- I want you." Sam swallows.
Daddy's eyes narrow and he doesn't say anything, at first. Then his gaze starts
again, going from Sam's face to her little breasts, her flat stomach, the curve
of her hips, her long legs. "Me," he says with no intonation.
"Yes, Daddy," replies Sam, trying to sound confident. "I want -- want you like
Dean does." That simple admission done and through with, it's like the rest of
it pours out of her, naughty and nasty. "I want to sit by your legs after you
get home and suck your co -- cock. I want to walk around wearing nothing like
Dean and have you spank me. I want to go to school with you dripping out of me,
and laugh when the boys try to hit on me because my Daddy is inside me. I want
you to touch me like you touch Dean, fuck me like you fuck Dean, love me like
you love Dean." By the end her face is burning, but Sam tries not to look away,
knowing she should look at someone while she's talking to them.
"Oh, Samantha." Daddy comes forward and gives her another hug, this one longer
and tighter. "I do love you, baby girl. You know that, right? No matter how
differently I treat you. You don't have to do what Dean does to have my love.
Dean asked for that a long time ago, and that's why we do it."
Her chest a tornado of emotions, Sam thinks quickly. So Dean asked for Daddy?
Daddy didn't just take her? Confused, Sam leans back from the hug.
"So can I ask for it too, sir?"
Daddy looks down at her, moving some hair out of her eye. "Ask for what,
sweetheart?"
Biting her lip, Sam looks up between her lashes. She's seen so much sex, but
she's never talked about it with anyone. The words still feel naughty when she
says them. "Can I ask for your -- your cock, sir?"
The hug tightens and Daddy smiles -- a smile that Sam knows but that's never
been directed her way.
"Oh, baby. Yes. Yes you can ask for that." Then he stops and looks at her
sternly. "But you know I love you either way?"
"Yes, sir," she replies, nodding. On the way down her gaze gets caught on his
pants, which are tented out a little. He chuckles when he notices.
"Go finish the dishes, Sam. Then join me in my room."
"Yessir," she says breathlessly, then almost runs to the kitchen.
**
Getting undressed is sexier than Sam ever imagined. It's weird to be under a
man's gaze, his eyes hungry on her flesh and watching each inch of skin like
it's a revelation, but Sam feels a surge of power from it.
"God, look at these perfect little tits," her Daddy whispers, thumbing each of
them like they're his property to assess. The touch zings down to Sam's aching
pussy and she moans, writhing once on the bed. Her jeans are down to her knees
and her simple white underwear are soaked through, still covering her up, a
veil of modesty her Daddy will take away when he feels like.
"Please," she says, looking up, her arms thrown out above her head. "Please!"
"Alright, calm down." Daddy smacks her left tit a tiny bit, just enough to feel
like a pinch, and Sam gasps. "I'll give you what you need, Sammy, you just let
your Daddy take care of everything. I'm going to give your little cunt a good
seeing to, you hear me?"
"Yes," says Sam, her pussy clenching when she hears the word 'cunt'. It sounds
so bad and wrong.
"Yes....?" asks Daddy, smacking her other tit. "Manners."
"Yessir!" Sam repeats, flushing. It's been years since she forgot Daddy's
title.
"There we go," praises Daddy, his blunt fingers rolling her nipples in his
grip. "I had no idea you were hiding these nipples under your shirt, Sammy.
These are going to fit my mouth perfectly."
"Oh god, Daddy, please, sir," Sam writhes, almost sobbing. She's so --- so --
- she needs.
"Look at you." Daddy almost sounds surprised, his voice husky and his eyes
going darker than they ever have around Sam. "I thought your sister was the
only slut in the family, but you're going to give her a run for her money,
ain't you? Begging for it all the time like she does."
Unable to form words, Sam nods, agreeing, her lashes sticking together with
unshed tears. He's teasing her so badly!
"This was meant to be sucked on," Daddy mumbles to himself, pinching one last
time at her left nipple. "Gonna wake you up one day like that, dicking you good
and biting this tit."
The words are like a freight train over Sam's mind, leaving her a buzzing blank
canvas of nothingness, no thought at all for a long minute as her Daddy strips
off her jeans completely at last. Then her mind catches up and she cries out,
clenching her pussy.
"You like that, baby girl? Thinking 'bout me inside you?" Daddy puts his huge
hand on her stomach, rubbing there gently. "Well, you be good and it'll
happen."
“I will be,” Sam promises quickly, nodding along with it. “I will.”
A few minutes later Daddy is naked before her, his dick proud and hard for her.
It’s hardly the first time she’s seen it before -- Daddy fucks Dean everywhere
with no concern for propriety -- but it feels different knowing that it’s for
her. Not Dean. For Sam.
“You really want it, huh?” Daddy asks and Sam realizes she’s been whining and
hitching her hips up, nevermind that she’s still got her underwear on.
She’s feels barely coherent as she’s stripped of the last piece of clothing
between them, her underwear -- they aren’t “panties”, they aren’t sexy enough -
- are taken from her by the same man that bought them.
“You haven’t touched down here, have you, Samantha?” Daddy spreads her lower
lips and stares at her cunt.
Sam wants to be shy, but she’s too far gone. “No, I haven’t, promise Daddy.
Just -- just cleaning in the shower.”
“You never abused that privilege, did you?” Daddy asks before laying the
lightest of kisses on that bundle of nerves she’s read so much about but has so
little experience with.
“No, never,” Sam gasps -- the mouth on her feels good and bad, and it’s scary,
like the beginning of the long climb up on a rollercoaster.
“So this pussy’s never come, then,” Daddy says, his wonder at the fact obvious.
“No sir,” Sam affirms.
Daddy thinks a moment. “Normally I’d eat you out until you shivered apart. Dean
loves that. But I think the first time you come it should be on my cock.”
Sam inhales sharply and nods.
“Good,” Daddy says softly. Then his rough hands are on her thighs, spreading
her wider, and he crowds against her on the bed. His cock is big and wet,
precome at the end, and the intellectual part of Sam that knows she should ask
for a condom is far, far away at this moment.
He lines up with the soft skin of her cunt, pressing his cock at the give of
her body.
“Breathe in for me, baby girl,” he says, and then he’s taking her, the head of
his cock fighting its way past the tight sheath of her opening until it pops
past that ring deep into her.
“Daddy!” Sam cries out, grappling at his back, her hips trying to get away with
mindless need. It’s expected but it still aches, the cock coring her wide, and
Sam sobs a few times. She can’t concentrate on what’s happening in her because
it’s all so fast -- Daddy is already pulling out a little to push further in,
his breath hot on her clavicle as he kisses her and fucks her, swallowing her
little cries.
“Good girl, good girl, good,” he’s groaning over and over, then more, just like
Sam has always wanted: “You take that cock good, like you’re made for it, you
love daddy’s cock, don’t you?”
Sam bites her lips and agrees, trying to stay quiet and stifle the confused
cries bubbling up out of her. She feels good and bad, she doesn’t know, she
just doesn’t want it to stop yet.
“Later gonna have you slurp all over my cock, you ‘n your sister both,” Daddy
promises. “Dean’ll teach you good, how to fit me all the way down.”
The words set off something in Daddy and he starts fucking her harder, almost
lifting her smaller body off the bed. He’s abrading her nipples with his
fingers and Sam knows they’ll be puffy and sore; she can’t wait to put on a bra
and wince at it later.
His hips crash into hers, pinning her to the bed while she takes his dicking.
Even if she wanted to move she wouldn’t be able to, so she’s grateful when he
pulls out and flips her over easily.
Like an ungainly foal she goes onto her arms and legs, but she gets no respite
before she’s taking cock again, fast and unforgiving. Daddy pushes her head
into the mattress and rides her, snapping against her body, using her like
she’s always wanted.
“That’s it, just like that, let me have it all,” Daddy whispers, and he slides
his hand around her front to rub at her clit. “Give it up, sweetie, come on my
dick, go all tight for me.”
Permission must’ve been what her body was waiting for because her orgasm
crashes over her, the first one she’s ever had, an out-of-body experience that
goes on and on. She feels like a livewire, exposed and dangerous, and she
vibrates as Daddy keeps up the pressure on her clit.
“Daddy,” she says, whining, and he finally takes his hand away and goes back to
fucking her.
It’s all a blur after that, the minutes passing quickly as she’s used. The last
few thrusts into her rain down like hammer blows, Daddy moving with his whole,
huge body above her. Just when it’s starting to ache again he suddenly stops
deep inside and slips his hands to her front, cupping her breasts and pulling
the line of her body up against his own, his hips pulsing and grinding.
“Oh God, oh my Sammy girl,” he says, panting into her ear.
And then it’s over.
He drops her to the bed, sliding out of her as he does. She lays there, legs
open and limbs askew with face half-pressed into the sweat-wet pillow below.
Lazy, she glances back at Daddy, watching him watch her.
His cock is beginning to shrink, now, and Sam feels a full body flush come on
when she sees how coated it is, proof of how wet she was inside. Her blush only
deepens when he drops a hand to her pussy and slides his fingers through the
mess there -- it drips down to the bed as he does, thick and heavy.
“Look at that,” he says to himself. Then to her, “You alright, babydoll?”
The sweetest shiver goes through Sam. Babydoll. Daddy only ever calls Dean
that, but now Sam’s earned that name too. It was all worth it, all of it.
“I’m perfect, Daddy,” she says with a smile. “Absolutely perfect.”
End Notes
     say hi and follow at ya3ani.
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