Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10542360.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Dean_Winchester/Sam_Winchester
  Character:
      Sam_Winchester, Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      PWP, Female_Sam_Winchester, Always_Female_Sam, Het, Oral_Sex, 69_(Sex
      Position)
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-04-04 Words: 3231
****** Whipped ******
by EllenJai
Summary
     Dean is totally wrapped around his little sister's finger, but that's
     alright with him.
Notes
     this hasn't been edited and has only been read through once!
     idgaf, i finished a thing for the first time in months so i'm
     throwing it at the internet
     so here. have this garbage dump of fem!sam wincest because i had an
     itch
See the end of the work for more notes
Dean is completely wrapped around his little sister's finger. He is absolutely
and totally under her thumb.
 
But honestly, when he comes home to a sight like this, he doesn't mind it. Not
even a little bit.
 
Dad's gone; has been for about a week, out with Caleb hunting a black dog.
He'll be gone for the entire month, probably, if not longer. Black dogs are
nasty bastards anyway, plus this is an area chock-full of hunts. One thing will
lead to another, and another, and another.
 
Which means that Sam and Dean have the shitty little two-bedroom shack to
themselves for a while.
 
Sam, apparently, intends to take advantage of that.
 
Dean's barely inside the door when he hears her. Little whimpers, short and
high, and if he didn't know damn well she'd been home all day, he'd worry that
she was hurt.
 
But no. He knows she's been home all day, and he knows that means she's not
hurt. Swallowing around the lump of arousal suddenly blocking his throat, Dean
throws his jacket at the sagging couch and toes his boots off.
 
Slowly, carefully, he moves down the one hallway in the place. He weaves around
the creaking places, makes sure to avoid the weird spot in the wall that groans
when you pass too close by it (not a supernatural nasty, they'd already tested
that) and comes to their bedroom door. There's only one bed – the place was
pre-furnished, and Dad wasn't about to go buy an extra mattress when that money
could be spent on ammo. He and Sammy share it, of course. It's nothing they
haven't been doing all their lives anyhow.
 
But Sammy seems to be having a hell of a time all by herself on the decades old
mattress today. Dean bites back a gasp at the sight of her, one hand going to
his mouth and the other to the growing bulge in his jeans.
 
Sam's laid back on what looks like all the pillows in the place, almost
reclining. She's wearing nothing but one of Dean's threadbare t-shirts, the
white cotton so thin it's damn near see-through. He can see her nipples, tight
and hard, poking out of it. That sight alone almost makes him come in his pants
– he always did have a possessive streak, and Sammy in his clothes presses
allof those buttons – but he catches himself and keeps watching.
 
One of her hands is in her hair, gripped tight and probably pulling – she likes
that – and the other is between her spread thighs, slick up to her wrist and
two long fingers thrusting in and out. Dean swallows another groan, leaning his
weight against the doorjamb. He's fully hard now (who wouldn't be, really) and
aching to take his pants off, but he wants to see more of the show.
 
Because this is a show. He knows that. If Sam wanted to get herself off without
an audience or assistance, she'd have done that hours ago.
 
She knew when Dean was coming home. She wanted him to see.
 
She's not whimpering anymore, seemingly run out of breath to make noise. Dean
can tell she's close, the way her legs are shaking a dead giveaway. Despite
what she looks like normally, Sammy's got an iron will and an iron control over
her own body. She doesn't shake unless she physically cannot control it.
 
Like when she's on the cusp of what looks to be a great orgasm.
 
Dean's cock jerks when she comes, letting out a high pitched whine as she does.
Her legs are shaking harder now, and she's still fucking herself, in and out,
hard and fast. He's fixated on how pink she is down there, how easily her
fingers slide in and out of that shadowed place. He can see how her pussy is
clenching around her hand from here and it's making him leak.
 
Sam finally opens her eyes when she comes down. “Hey big brother,” she murmurs,
bringing her fingers up to her mouth. She paints her lips shiny-slick, and Dean
can't stay where he is any longer. He needs to kiss her, needs it like air.
 
Which is exactly how she wants him, and he knows it. He's so whipped it's
almost pathetic.
 
He really, really does not care.
 
It's like second nature to slip between her still-spread legs and press down on
her. He's still completely clothed, and she's damn-near naked (that shirt isn't
worth shit compared to flannel) and she flat-out groans when he rubs up against
her.
 
“Fuck, Dean,” she whispers, and Dean kisses her like he's dying.
 
She lets him in easily, one hand going to the back of his neck and the other to
his ass, encouraging him to grind his denim-covered erection against her naked
pussy. He worries for a split second that he'll hurt her like that, but then
she's sucking on his tongue and he forgets his own name.
 
“Wanted you all day,” she gasps between kisses. “Been lonely.”
 
“Fuck,” Dean huffs, nipping at her bottom lip and sucking the rest of her slick
off of it. She grins slyly.
 
“Did you like your show?”
 
Dean refuses to admit that the sound he lets out is a whine. “God, baby girl,
you're gonna kill me one day,” he rumbles, licking a path down her neck and
biting his way back up. She arches closer, still grinding against him. His
jeans are going to be fucking ruined. He doesn't give a damn.
 
“La petite morte,” Sam whispers in his ear. Dean shudders. “Just a little
death.”
 
“Sammy,” Dean groans, and kisses her again. She laughs into it, but kisses back
just as passionately, scratching her nails against his nape.
 
“Wanna fuck me, Dean?” she asks at one point, the hand that was on his ass
insinuating itself between their bodies, flicking at the button of his jeans.
Dean groans and nods, too busy sucking a dark hickey onto her throat to answer
with his words. She giggles and pushes her throat harder against his mouth,
deftly unbuttoning and unzipping his pants with one hand.
 
“C'mon then,” she coaxes, slowly pushing him away from her. He lets out a sound
suspiciously close to a whimper at the loss of contact, but follows her lead,
sitting back on his heels, licking her taste from his lips.
 
Sam grins. “Good boy,” she practically purrs, scooting up against the pillows
so she's sitting up. “Lose the clothes.”
 
Dean obeys without even thinking, pulling his t-shirt and flannel off in one
move and flinging them in the general direction of their pile of laundry. He
fumbles out of his jeans next, cheeking burning when he gets his ankle stuck in
them and Sam giggles at him.
 
In under two minutes, he's back to kneeling in front of her, naked as the day
he was born except her necklace resting against his chest. She smiles at him,
slow and sly, and he swallows.
 
Kneeling up, she uses the necklace to pull him closer, her lips barely brushing
his. It makes him ache.
 
“Lay on your back. I wanna try something. If you're good, you'll get a reward.
Okay?” She breathes all of this against Dean's mouth, and it takes everything
in him to just nod and follow orders instead of kissing her senseless.
 
Sam grins and gives him a small peck, climbing off the bed and gesturing at
him. “Good boy. Lay down.”
 
Dean does as he's told, grabbing a few of the pillows to lay his head on. Sam's
smiling at him the entire time, her eyes sweeping over his body hungrily. It
makes him shiver, and that makes her grin wider.
 
She reaches over to their not-actually-a-nightstand and grabs the lube and a
condom. Dean watches her with anticipation.
 
“I want you to stay still and let me do what I want, okay?” she asks, and he
can hear in her tone that it's actually a question this time. He nods,
swallowing again.
 
“Yeah.” He sounds fucked-out already, Christ. The things Sammy does to him.
 
Sam smiles like the sun and leans down to kiss him. “Good boy,” she murmurs
into the kiss. Dean feels warm down to his toes and tries not to let it show,
but she knows. She always knows.
 
She climbs back onto the bed, swinging one leg over his so she's straddling his
thighs. He can see a glimpse of pink, barely hidden behind his shirt, and his
cock twitches visibly toward her. She giggles and rips open the condom, sliding
it down his length with the ease of practice. He barely bites back a whimper.
 
Next, she slicks him up with the lube, more than generously. He groans at the
feeling of her hand, long-fingered and delicate but strong. God, he just wants
her to touch him.
 
Looking up at him, she winks. He swallows the saliva gathering in his cheeks,
overproduced because he can smellher and it's making his jaw clench with want.
Slowly, she moves forward, coming to a stop when she's straddling his groin.
 
Dean damn near begs, then and there. She can tell, because of course she can,
and her free hand moves up his stomach and ribs to pinch at a nipple. He arches
off the bed with a cry and she giggles again.
 
“Be a goody boy and hold still,” she murmurs, and then lowers herself so the
lips of her pussy are spread around the width of his cock and his cock is flat
against his belly. He groans and nods, grabbing another pillow to stuff under
his head. He wants to watch her, whatever she does.
 
He never wants to stop watching her.
 
She bites her lip and grinds up a little, then back, eyes fluttering. Dean
grips the sheets hard enough to tear. It feels good, god it feels incredible,
but it's not enough.She knows that, too.
 
After a moment, she lifts and scoots a little forward, resettling and going
back to grinding. Obviously, she's found what she wants, because she's suddenly
gripping his side hard enough to bruise. She moves a little faster, back and
forth, riding the bottom of his cock like her own personal toy.
 
The description isn't that far off. Dean whimpers when she grinds harder and
moves her hips faster.
 
“Fuck, Dean,” she breathes, one hand going to to her nipple. Dean watches her
play with herself, mouth watering, and does his level best to stop himself from
thrusting up against her. He twitches a little (okay, a lot) but she doesn't
seem to mind that.
 
It feels like an eternity that he watches her, as still as he can make himself,
mouth watering and cock throbbing. She's gorgeous, forcing her hips back and
forth against him with her back arched. Both her hands are on her own body now,
one still on her breasts and the other in her hair again. Every third thrust or
so, she groans his name, and it makes him shiver every time.
 
Eventually, though, she comes; he can tell by her legs shaking, again, but also
because she opens her eyes to look at him. Her stare is burning and he is very
willingly on fire.
 
“Fuck!” she shouts at the peak of it, still grinding against him, and digs her
nails into his chest, head thrown back. He moans back at her, barely
restraining his hips from thrusting up as he feels the tip of his cock catch
against her opening.
 
Apparently that's not what she wanted, though. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she mumbles,
still shuddering as she lifts herself a little higher over him. “Dean, in me,
please, please – ”
 
The head catches her entrance again and he doesn't resist this time, pumping
his hips up as she lets herself come down again. She's still clenching, barely
come down from her orgasm, and Dean whines, wanting to grab her hips and flip
them over. But she's the one running the show and she seems to like where they
are, so he keeps his hands at his sides.
 
He doesn't stop moving his hips, though. She's grinding back against his
thrusts, whimpering high and soft each time he's in to the hilt, and it makes
his skin feel too tight.
 
“Fuck, Sammy, so fucking good,” he rambles. Sam groans and grabs at his hand,
fumbling against his fingers before she manages to pull it up to her stomach.
 
Dean catches the hint immediately, dipping his thumb between her folds to flick
at her clit. She makes a broken noise and starts to shake again.
 
“Gonna – oh, fuck,” she gasps and rotates her hips forward as he hits a good
spot, “gonna come, oh god, gonna come on your cock, and...Dean...then I'm
gonna, shit,so good, Dean, I'm gonna t-turn around, and – oh!Fuck, right
there.... Gonna turn around and suck you o-off...make you lick me c-clean....”
 
He damn near comes right there. The image plays in his head and he whines, an
outright whine, shifting so he can thrust harder into her body. She shudders
and clenches, eyes closed and a lip between her teeth.
 
“Feel so fucking good, Dean, such a good boy for me, always – oh...always give
m-me, fuck, always give me what I want - ” Sam's words cut off with a gasp as
Dean tilts his hips up a little and presses firmly against her clit and pubic
mound with his hand. “Oh, god, right there, please, fuck, don't stop.... Dean!”
 
She grabs his hand when she comes this time, nails digging in and keeping it
pressed hard against her. He lets her, growling lowly as he flexes around him.
“Sammy,” he hisses, barely keeping a hold on his own orgasm. She's so damn
tight and hot around him and all he wants to do is lose it with her.
 
But she promised to suck him off, and the thought of coming down her throat is
just enough temptation to make him hold on. She seems to shudder through her
third orgasm forever, though, eventually pulling his hand away from her clit
and just rocking slowly against him, shuddering and gasping.
 
By the time she comes down, she's practically glowing, a small smile on her
lips. Dean swallows hard and grabs for her hand. She entwines their fingers and
deliberately clenches her pussy, yanking a groan from his throat.
 
“God, I love your dick,” she murmurs, leaning down for a kiss. Dean doesn't
even try for finesse, too desperate for his own orgasm; it's sloppy and wet and
Sam is grinning like something feral when she pulls back.
 
“You want to come?” she asks. Dean squeezes her hand and nods, panting as she
slowly lifts her body from his. He's so hard his dick remains sticking straight
up with no help, twitching toward the warmth he can still feel emanating from
her body.
 
“Sammy, please,” he begs, licking his lips and giving her his best puppy eyes.
She's better at them, but he knows his work just as well on her.
 
She smiles and nips at his ear. “Love you, Dean,” she whispers. He shivers
harder at that than he did at any of her dirty talk, moaning as she pulls the
condom off him and throws it to the ground.
 
More graceful than anyone should be so soon after an orgasm, she spins around
and straddles his chest, facing away from him. He grabs her hips and pulls her
over his face immediately. He wants to come, yeah, wants her mouth on his dick,
but Christ does he want to taste her again. The tease from their first kiss
earlier wasn't nearly enough.
 
For whatever reason, his eagerness seems to shock Sam. “Oh!” she half-shouts
it, but it quickly devolves into a moan as he flattens his tongue against her.
He licks broadly from her clit to her asshole, sucking up all of the slick
that's leaked all over.
 
The taste has him moaning against her and she jerks. “Fucking hell, Dean,
you're too good at that,” she mutters, shifting her hips closer to his face.
“Distracting me.”
 
Dean allows himself a grin that turns to slack-jawed pleasure as she flicks her
tongue over his tip. “Sammy, please,” he mumbles, nibbling softly at her lips
and teasing his tongue against her entrance. “Wanna come down your throat so
bad baby girl.”
 
“Dirty mouth,” Sam says. Before Dean can come up with a reply, she sinks down
on him, his throat buried halfway down her throat in one go.
 
He groans loudly and goes back to licking up the slick mess still leaking out
of her. She's so sweet he nearly chokes on it, but he doesn't want anything
else in the world but this. She seems to agree, wiggling her hips against his
face and sinking lower on his cock, swallowing around him. It makes him jolt
up, fucking deeper into her throat. He goes to apologize, but she just grinds
her clit against his chin and moans around him.
 
Dean takes the hint and shifts his hips, rocking gently against her face. She
just moans again, swallowing hard around him, and he looses all finesse. He's
still eating her out – he can hear the filthy noises he's making against her,
feel her leaking all over his face – but he's lost in how fantastic her mouth
and throat feel gripping his dick.
 
She doesn't seem to mind his distraction, rocking herself against his face in
the same rhythm she's got going on his cock, swallowing and moaning and
whimpering around him the entire time. He's barely holding on to any control,
entire body tense and focused down to his groin.
 
Sammy pulls off to breathe, whimpering as Dean licks across everything between
her legs again, asshole to clit over and over under her thighs shake.
“Goddamnit, Dean, come in my mouth so I can come on your face, fuck.”
 
Dean groans and barely has time to prepare himself before she's got his entire
cock down her throat again. Her lips are pressed against his pubes, her nose
poking at the seam in his balls and he just loses it; she hums around him and
he's coming. She just swallows around him, seemingly completely calm with his
cock blocking her airway and shooting straight into her throat.
 
It feels like he comes forever. At one point he whites out, and when he comes
to, she's licking softly at his softening cock, little kitten licks that send
pain-pleasure shots of sensation through his entire body.
 
“Fuck,” he groans, turning his head a little to bite at her thigh. She just
giggles and squeezes her thighs around his head once before flopping over onto
her back.
 
“That was fun,” she murmurs eventually, still sounding out-of-breath. Dean
huffs.
 
“C'mere and kiss me,” he demands. She giggles and scrambles into a sitting
position, yanking on his shoulder to make him sit up too. He does, a little
wobbly, and the kiss they share is soft and sweet, even with the shot of heat
that tasting his own come in her mouth sends through his belly.
 
“Love you,” she murmurs against his cheek. He grins.
 
“Love you too, Sammy baby,” he mumbles back, nuzzling behind her ear.
 
He's totally whipped. Absolutely wrapped around Sammy's finger.
 
And he really, really does not mind.
 
End Notes
     if there's any glaring mistakes please let me know
     otherwise, please leave some kind of feedback because i am desperate
     for validation
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