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Deanna squirms a little, mattress creaking subtly under the combined weight of two, lead figures-one small and dainty, delicate and frail, the other large and brooding, rough and calloused. Her thighs quiver, sweat dripping down from the backs of her knees as her father curls two, thick fingers inside of her soft and spongy walls. She bites her lip, squashing out a moan but it isn't enough.
John clasps his free hand over her mouth, face only inches from Deanna's, breath hot on her cool skin. "Shh, baby girl. Don't wake your brother." He whispers huskily, just before pressing tender kisses into her shoulder.
Nothing about John Winchester was gentle. The man drank like a sailor, fought like a savage, and killed like a predator. But something about him changes whenever he has his girl sprawled out beneath him like this, a masterpiece hand sculpted from marble. Perhaps it's her lithe frame, refined limbs, or maybe it's the spitting image of Mary written across her features. Regardless, Deanna was the only thing capable of taming the beast, even if only for a small while.
John's pumping fingers pull free, coated in thick arousal as he presses them to her plush lips. John's chest swells with pride in the way she obediently sucks them in, velvety soft tongue working them clean.
"So good, Dee. Good girl." John rumbles, quietly fishing his cock out of his sweatpants, shifting to catch Deanna's lips with his own. "My pretty girl."
Deanna's breath catches, hips bucking slightly as she feels John's length run slowly up through her center, heated petals clinging to his member in a way that makes the man's eyes roll back, clenching them shut with a soft "Fuck," uttered under his breath.
John sits back, eyes fixated now where their bodies connect as he sinks into pink innocence, slow and steady, just for her.
Deanna covers her own mouth now, pressing her head back into the pillows as John delivers inch after aching inch of throbbing cock into her. She sees stars for a moment, a couple tears squeezing from the outer corners of her eyes as she remembers to breathe. John stills once fully seated, leaning back over her and brushing the wetness from her freckled cheeks. She smiles, sweet and pretty, a little sniffle audible before they kiss again.
"I know, darlin. Feels good, don't it? So overwhelming for you." John murmurs against her lips.
"Yes, sir." She whispers, nipping her father's bottom lip.
John gives a single, hard rock into her heat, hand covering her mouth just in time to muffle the yelp that shoots up through her soft, flush chest. He glances across the motel room, seeing little Sam stir just a bit in his bed, before his gentle snores fill the room once more.
He turns back to Deanna, who is smiling in a way that puts her father right into the palm of her hand, every fucking time.
"You're so naughty, sweet girl."
"I'll be quiet, c'mon dad please." She whispers, running a hand from John's shoulder to the nape of his neck, where they find their way into thick, dark hair.
How could he say no to that?
"Alright, alright," he whispers with a smirk. "But you better be quiet."
With that, John starts moving, thrusting deep into Deanna's slick heat with slow and deliberate strokes. He watches her flush face as she bites down on her bottom lip in an effort to keep from making too much noise. But even though she tries to stay quiet, little whimpers still escape her lips every now and then as John rolls his hips into hers, the sound so innocent and endearing.
"You feel so good wrapped around me, baby girl." John growls low in Deanna's ear. "I could stay buried inside of you forever, keep your pretty lil' pussy stuffed to the brim."
Deanna moans softly at his words before arching up against him wantonly, her small breasts bouncing with each thrust. She knows what he likes - how he likes her to move and how he likes to be touched. She slides her hands down his back, digging her nails into his skin just above his hips.
John grunts in pleasure, feeling himself getting closer and closer to the edge. He quickened his pace ever so subtly, pumping into Deanna until he's teetering on the brink of ecstasy.
"Agh-fuck, Dee. Oh, baby girl of mine," John pants out quietly, pausing to kiss her before continuing. "Gonna cum, darlin'. Mmn, gonna-gonna get you fuckin' pregnant."
Deanna tightens around John's girth, teeth digging into her pillowy bottom lip with an eager nod. "Please..!" She whines, not trusting herself to say much else without getting loud.
John's hips grind hard against the back of her ass as he gets as deep into her cunt as he possibly can, moaning softly into the skin of her neck, the sounds monosyllabic and muffled.
When he pulls out of Deanna, his cum is slowly dripping down her glistening pussy. Trained like a dog, she spreads her legs for him, a silent invitation.
Without hesitation, John leans in and begins to lick up the mess he's made. His tongue laps and sucks at her folds eagerly like a starved hound, cleaning up every last drop of his release he can find. Deanna moans and mewls softly under his ministrations, running her fingers through his hair and holding him close to her. She loves it when he eats her out like this-it makes everything feel so intimate and special between them. She loved looking down over her belly to lock eyes with John, nose buried against her clit with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
So eager, so gentle. Just for her.
As John continues to clean her up with long strokes of his tongue now, Deanna can feel herself getting aroused all over again. She arches into him, silently begging for more. John obliges willingly, sliding two fingers inside of Deanna's slick heat once more while still licking at the sensitive skin around it, nipping and tugging to make her squeak.
"D-ad, daddy! Nng..!" She whispers, her legs practically vibrating. "May I cum, daddy? Please oh fuck please, I'm so good-good girl…"
John smiles into her sex, pausing to lay heated kisses around the flushed skin there.
"You want to cum for me, baby girl?" He asks huskily. "You want daddy to make you feel good?"
Deanna nods eagerly, biting down on her bottom lip in anticipation.
"Then let go," John growls before diving back between her legs with renewed vigor. He uses his tongue and lips expertly, hands gripped tightly into her soft hips, bringing Deanna closer and closer until she's clasping a pillow over her face, crying out in ecstasy.
It really was a blessing that Sammy is a heavy sleeper.
As she comes down from her high, John crawls up beside her and wraps an arm around her waist. They lay there together for a few moments longer before John gets up to clean himself off in the bathroom. When he returns, she's wearing one of his shirts, her already small frame dwarfed in his oversized clothes. He climbs back into bed, pulling her close once more. Deanna snuggled against him contentedly, feeling safe and loved in his arms.
"Thank you, dad." She whispers softly. "I love you."
John kisses the top of her head before replying gruffly, "Love you too, Princess."
They fall asleep wrapped up in each other's embrace-a twisted yet intimate bond that only they can understand.