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highfunctioningflailgirl · 5 months

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Damage Control: 1x01 Pilot

Jessica is dead, and although Sam acts tough, Dean knows that his little brother is still in shock when they roll up to a motel for the night. He books them a room, dumps the take-out food and sixpack he’s bought on the table and sits Sam down on one of the two beds.

“Alright,” he announces. “Let me have a look at you.”

Sam, who’s been stiff-jawed and quietly on edge during the ride, immediately looks angry.

“What, why? I’m fine, Dean!” He moves to get back up, but Dean holds him down by his shoulders.

“You’ve almost had your heart ripped out of your chest by a friggin’ ghost today, and you’ve crashed a car - my car - into a house. And your girlfriend died. I just want to make sure you’re okay - at least physically.”

“I am okay,” Sam protests, slapping Dean’s hands away. His eyes gleam.

“Yeah, right,” Dean says cynically. “‘Course you are. But you might be walking around with broken ribs and not even notice, wired-up as you are. Just lemme have a look! You’ve also had a drawer slam into you, if I recall correctly.”

Sam glowers. “That wasn’t just me. Thing pinned you as well.”

“Yeah, and I’m feeling bruised as shit, so stop being stubborn and let me check you out!”

What Dean says is true. He feels sore from his hips down, and during a pit stop he’d checked himself out in the gas station’s bathroom. His legs are mottled with bruises, and his right knee has stiffened up a bit, but nothing’s torn or broken.

“Come on, Sammy,” he complains, annoyed and worried. “Don’t make this difficult! You know how it goes. Hunter’s rule: Take care of your injuries, or you can’t hunt. And you want to hunt this thing, right?”

Sam huffs and rolls his eyes. But, after a last irritated look at Dean, he peels out of his jacket and lifts his shirt.

“See? It’s nothing.”

“You let me be the judge of that.”

Frowning, Dean inspects the five small puncture wounds on Sam’s chest where the Woman in White dug in her nails. Sam’s right: they’re harmless, superficial and already scabbing over, with minor bruising around them. Sam doesn’t even flinch when Dean palpates the wounds and runs his fingertips along Sam’s ribs. No indentations, nothing out of place.

“You got lucky.”

“Told you so.”

Nevertheless, Dean fetches a washcloth from the bathroom, douses it with whiskey from the bottle in his duffel bag and insists on disinfecting the wounds. He knows he’s motherhenning. And that he’s compensating. He couldn’t save Jessica, couldn’t protect his little brother from that devastating loss. He couldn’t shield Sam from harm. But this, he can do.

“Your legs?” he asks when finished.

Another eye roll. “Bruised but fine.”

“You sure?”

Sam grabs his tattered shirt and gets up.

“Yes, I’m sure! Same as yours, I guess. Come on, what do you want me to do? Take off my pants and turn this into a strip show?”

Dean wants to bristle, but he holds himself in check. He knows that underneath all of Sam’s defensiveness grief is waiting to push to the surface, and that his little brother is keeping a lid on it as best as he can. That he’ll break at some point, without Dean provoking it.

“God, no,” he chooses to say. “‘S far as I know, you haven’t changed your underwear in days. I don’t have a death wish.”

Sam flings his shirt at Dean. “Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Somehow, that familiar exchange erases the tension between them. Sam huffs, but Dean sees the hint of a smile accompany his exasperation.

“Seriously, I’m alright,” Sam adds while he walks to the bathroom. “Couple bruises, nothing dramatic. Promise.”

“Alright, champ.” Dean concedes. “Your call. But don’t come complaining to me tomorrow morning when I’ve got to haul your sorry ass out of bed because you can’t move!”

Sam points a finger at him. “Speak for yourself, old man.”

“Hey!” Dean slaps at Sam’s hand, acting more appalled than he is. They will both feel sore and older than their twenty-something years in the morning.

“Ow!” Sam shakes out his hand.

It’s all mock fighting now, and they both fall into it with a sense of comfort. Dean is content. Sam will yet have to face the aftermath of his loss and Dean will have to watch him suffer through it, but he will be there for Sammy, every step of the way. And tonight, he’s done what little he could do to make it a little easier.

A/N: I'm attempting a missing scene/coda ficlets series of all the times Sam or Dean (and, later, Castiel) got hurt on the show and we never saw them dealing with the aftermath. I think it might be a good opportunity to follow our boys' character development throughout the show. And, of course, there's a lot of h/c involved, sprinkled with a variety of other tags. This is part one.

If there's any particular scene you want me to cover/add to, send me an ask!

Find the whole series on AO3 here:

#spn #supernatural #fanfic #fan fiction #the damage control series #1x01 #pilot #dean winchester #sam winchester #h/c #hurt/comfort #grief cw #mild injury cw #jensen ackles #jared padalecki

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cas-poisoning · 18 days

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Jensen Ackles is genuinely a good actor and freakishly attractive and yet he has only been a network television actor for the vast majority of his career. why?

#and not even any network tv like b/c tier network tv #why would anyone choose this for DECADES #he literally looks like he is an A list actor in every other universe #jensen ackles

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ladyrandombox · 2 years

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Soldier Boy commission

#fanart #fan art #art #jensen ackles #soldier boy #the boys #the boys fanart #the boys soldier boy #the boys season 3 #spicy pics #spicy #shirtless #flirt #c #creator: LadyRandomBox

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uncreative-user-name · 2 years

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🤣😂🤣

#supernatural #spn #jensen ackles #misha collins #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #cockles #husbands #jenmish #deancas #casdean #the cw #the c*w

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coping-via-clint-eastwood · 1 year

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Here's the photo I used for my header. Free to use.

#mishapocalypse #misha collins #jensen ackles #c-v-c-e edit

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charred-angelwings · 2 years

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I already said I’d watch the show Jensen good lord 🥵🥵🥵

#jensen ackles #jensens ig #sheriff hotness #sheriff do you have your cuffs #I was gonna watch the show anyways but now I’m W A T C H I N G 🥵😮‍💨🔥🔥#there was no need but thank you #sir

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ceegeneauauthor · 8 months

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Now that Strength of Heart is officially done, I’m ready to jump into a new book!!! And by jump in to, I obviously mean that I spent all day playing around on Canva to make this look like the Friends With Benefits movie poster lol.

And honestly, it’s about time I had a MMC with Jensen Ackles as a face claim!!!! 🫠

I’ve already got a super rough outline of what I want to happen, and I’m planning to start writing tomorrow!!!

#my writing #my best friends neighbor #MBFN #c: Dain #c: Elyse #new story #RomCom #jensen ackles #holland roden #face claim

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jen-nation · 2 years

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Morning Cunts:

Butcher is looking…respectfully:

🚨🚨🚨 The goddamn peach has dropped!!! 🫶🍑🫶🍑🫶 :

Shit..i’m nekkid:

I’m off - where’s Fonda? 👍:

#jensen ackles #soldier boy #f*c me the 🍑 is glorious!!!#butcher and me: 🫣🤩🤤#spoilers #season 3 #btw - ta Amazon you absolute c*nts - i had to watch this by nefarious means..🥸

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provokedgoalie · 2 years

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i've never seen jensen's wife until i read a buzzfeed article, and i must say she's so beautiful ❤️

#jensen ackles #c

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 5 months

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Damage Control: 1x02 Wendigo

Dean would never admit to it, but it’s a good thing that Sam’s driving. In truth, the Wendigo had done a number on him, and now that he no longer has to keep up his Winchester trademark bravado for the girl, the cops and the EMTs, he turns his face away from Sam and leans his forehead against the Impala’s passenger window, pretending to fall asleep.

The rain-streaked glass is blessedly cool against the bruise creeping up his cheekbone to his eye and soothes his headache. Maybe he has a concussion after all. Although he’d told the EMTs his head was fine and his pupils had done him the favor of being equal-sized when they’d shone their flashlights into Dean’s eyes, he feels queasy now, and a little dizzy.

Everything feels sore. His cheek is swollen, his neck itches under the bandage. His shoulders hurt from being strung up by his wrists for hours. His skin is chafed from the rope. His back aches from being dragged across the forest ground, over roots and rocks, to the cave. Although his sturdy canvas jacket had literally saved his skin, he still feels like he’s been road-hauled.

Without Sam, he would’ve parked the Impala somewhere off-road and curled up in the backseat to sleep off the worst of it before dragging himself back behind the wheel and onto the road. He would’ve popped a few pills and chased them with whiskey to drown out the pain. The next morning, he would’ve caffeinated at a drive-in to avoid curious looks and stayed away from mirrors for a few days.

But Sam is here, a reassuring presence beside him, driving him through the night, and the familiar squeaking of the Impala’s chassis and the sloshing rain on the windshield are comfortably lulling Dean to sleep.

xxx

“Dean. Dean!”

Sam is shaking him by the shoulder, and Dean peels his eyes open, disoriented.

“What?”

“Jesus, Dean!” Sam is shaking his shaggy head. “I thought you’d fallen into a coma or something!”

Stiffly, Dean sits up and scrubs a hand across his face. It hurts.

“Why? No. I’m fine.”

“You sure?” Sam arches dubious eyebrows. “Dude, I could barely wake you up.”

Dean waves him off. “Yeah. I’m good. I was just exhausted. Relax! I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“Then don’t look at me.”

“Hah! Funny.” Sam isn’t laughing.

Dean ignores him and tries to gather his bearings. “Where are we?”

“Motel parking lot”, Sam replies, still frowning at Dean. “You’re beat, and I could use some shut-eye, too. Something to eat. And a shower.” He sniffs at his jacket and wrinkles his nose. “We both smell like roadkill. You look like it, too.”

Dean blinks blurry surroundings into focus - a mostly empty parking lot ringed by the peeling outline of a cheap motel complex, a “vacancies” sign flashing orange in the misty dawn. Then he looks down at himself, at his dirty clothes and hands, and takes a whiff.

“You’re not wrong,” he admits. He stinks, and it’s not exactly helping with his lingering nausea.

Sam pulls the keys out of the ignition and reaches for the door handle. “I’ll get us a room. Stay here! We don’t want to scare the locals.”

When he’s out of sight, Dean angles the rearview mirror so he can look at his face. He does look terrible. His right eye has blackened, and his cheek is swollen and tender around the cut. The bandage on his neck is a rusty brown. He‘s pale, the freckles on his face competing with dried specks of mud and dirt. His hair is plastered to his temple where he’s been leaning against the window.

“Ughh…” he comments and repositions the mirror, away from his face.

It only takes a few minutes for Sam to return, motel keys jingling in his hand, but it’s about time. Dean is already drowsy again, and only his full bladder is keeping him awake.

While his brother grabs their overnight duffels from the trunk, Dean hoists himself out of the passenger seat, and, for a hopefully inconspicuous moment, hangs on to the passenger door while a dizzy spell passes.

“Dude. You’re on concussion protocol for the next twenty-four hours!”

Shit.

“I’m f-”

“Shut up.” The sudden authority in Sam’s voice surprises Dean. He almost sounds like their dad. “You’re swaying, and you look like Casper after six rounds of mud wrestling. I don’t care what lies you told the EMTs, but I am going to wake you up every hour to make sure you’re not bleeding into your stupid brain!”

The fact that Dean can’t even come up with a return has Sam nod in confirmation.

“Right. Now let’s get your ass into the shower and then into bed.”

There’s no further discussion. Sam carries their bags to their room while keeping a close eye on Dean who crosses the parking lot like his own friggin’ grandfather. As he shuffles along, Dean wonders about the sudden role reversal. He‘s the one who‘s always taken care of Sammy, and it’s odd to experience it the other way around. Odd, but not entirely unpleasant.

Inside, the garish interior of their lodgings bites into Dean’s aching eyes - tasteless combinations of orange and green that would put even the ‘70s to shame. Longingly eyeing one of the two beds, Dean staggers past it, into the bathroom. Once he lies down, he knows he won’t be able to get back up.

„Wait!“

Sam prevents him from shutting the door, then he reaches inside Dean‘s duffel bag and, rummaging around, retrieves his toiletry kit including shampoo and shower gel.

„Here, you’ll need this.“ He hands it to Dean. „And don’t lock the door!“

„Sammy, you don‘t have to take care-„

„Well, yes!“ Sam glowers at him in a mixture of worry and annoyance. „Because someone has to if you’re not taking care of yourself. I know you Dean, and some things… they don’t change.“

The brothers lock eyes and, for a moment, memories bounce between them. Memories of hunts with their father when one of them had gotten hurt and Dean in particular had quickly adopted John Winchester‘s way of unwavering stoicism. It hadn’t just been about copying the behavior of his father, whom Dean admired. Nor had it been about heroism or masculinity, as Sam had often claimed. No. Dean had simply never deemed his pain important. Saving people was important. Protecting Sammy was important. The world was full of monsters hurting innocents. They were important. Not Dean’s occasional sprained ankle, a cracked rib or a conk to the head.

His attitude had driven Sam crazy. Even Dad had torn him a new one once, for ignoring an injury that had brought him close to sepsis and forced them to abort the hunt for a shapeshifter. Dean had learned from that. A little.

“Thanks, Sammy,” he says and disappears into the bathroom.

The massaging heat of the shower trumps the stinging of his wounds, and Dean spends so much time under the hot spray that Sam gets nervous outside and knocks on the door, threatening to come in.

“I’m fine!” Dean yells, and he wonders how many times he’s said those two words in his life when, truly, he’d been anything but.

When he emerges from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, he’s weary to the bone and grateful for the fresh set of clothes Sam has already laid out for him. He nods at his brother and briefly returns to the bathroom to slip into the soft, clean jogging pants, t-shirt and hoodie, his shoulders groaning in protest at the movement.

“You want something to eat before turning in?” Sam calls from the main room. “I was thinking about ordering take out. D’you want a burger?”

Dean’s stomach does a little flip at the thought of greasy food - more proof that he’s indeed concussed - but he can’t quite shed the pretense. It’s too ingrained in him.

“Cheeseburger and fries, but only if you order something, too,” he calls back. “And do we have beer?”

He shuffles back into the main room and sits down on the nearest bed, gingerly leaning back against the headboard.

“Alcohol and a concussion don’t mix,” Sam tells him sternly, one ear pressed to his cell phone. “But you know that, and I guess you’re not going to- Yes, hi, can I place an order, please?”

Whatever burger joint is on the other end of the line, Dean’s grateful for the distraction. One good thing about hunting alone had been that no one had lectured him about his lifestyle. Not that his father had cared about Dean’s preference for junk food or his drinking. If anything, he’d set an even worse example, living on whatever food was left after his sons had eaten and regular swigs from his hip flask. But hunting had been John Winchester’s number one priority, and he would’ve taken Dean’s head off for aggravating an injury through drink and compromising his hunting skills even further.

“… you should really change those.”

“Huh?”

Dean looks at Sam, forcing his eyes to focus. Jeez, he’d really zoned out for a moment there.

Sam’s standing by the bed, his own toiletry kit and fresh clothes in his arms. His brows are knitted in annoyed concern, forming a swirly set of wrinkles on his forehead that Dean thinks is going to stay if his little brother doesn’t stop this mother-henning anytime soon.

“I said food is ordered, I’m gonna hit the shower, and you should change those bandages. They’re wet.”

Dean sighs in surrender. “Yes, ma’am!” He lifts his hand to peel the sodden bandage from his neck. “Go shower!”

“First aid kit is on the table.”

“Go shower!”

Finally, Sam leaves him alone. Reluctantly, Dean gets up again and fetches the first aid kit. It needs restocking, but he finds some gauze, and, in front of a dusty mirror by the door, tapes it over the wound on his neck. He doesn’t bother with the cut on his cheek; it’s already scabbing over. Same goes for the abrasion on his forehead.

The shower’s still running when he’s done and he sinks back down onto the bed. Sam seems to be enjoying the hot water as much as Dean, and although he managed to escape the Wendigo nearly unscathed, Dean is sure he’s feeling the long hike through the woods in his muscles, too.

Dean himself feels leaden now. His head’s still hurting, and he leans back, closing his eyes. There’s a soothing comfort in the sounds emanating from the bathroom - water running, an audible sigh from Sammy and muffled banging as his 6’5 brother navigates the too-small shower stall.

Before Sam had joined him in his search for their father, Dean had only had silence for company, filled with a looming, leering sense of danger. It’s not that he wasn’t used to being on his own. His father and Dean had been splitting up and gone on solo hunts ever since he’d turned twenty-five. In fact, Dean quite enjoyed those times. His father’s tough love approach wasn’t always easy to bear, and his presence always diminished Dean. He was more confident and a better hunter on his own. As a bonus, solo hunts meant he could pick up girls more easily.

But it had been different this time. His father was missing. John Winchester was in trouble; Dean could feel it in his bones. And suddenly the motel room he’d been staying in on his own hadn’t felt like freedom; it had felt stifling and too quiet, with evil lurking in the corners. For the first time in a long time Dean had felt alone, and scared, and he still doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Sam hadn’t come with him to go looking for Dad.

That fear isn’t entirely gone. Dean still worries that something happened to their father, that he– No. He’s not going there. He’s got Sam now - who’s apparently going through a whole bathroom routine with his fancy shampoo and expensive shower gel - not like the cheap no-name soap Dean uses - and will later sleep in the other bed the way he always does, on his belly, his long lanky body sprawled on the mattress like a starfish. If Sam isn’t haunted by nightmares about Jessica, he will sleep like a log, his deep, even breaths reassuringly filling the darkness.

And it is with that comforting thought that Dean himself drops into slumber now, concussion be damned, and he doesn’t wake up until Sam, like clockwork, raises him exactly one hour later, for a warmed-up burger and fries.

Find the whole series on AO3 here:

#spn #supernatural #fanfic #fan fiction #the damage control series #1x02 #wendigo #dean winchester #sam winchester #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #h/c #angst #blood tw #injury tw #hoodie!dean

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pink-sparkly-witch · 7 months

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The Babysitter

Summary: Jared convinces Jensen to go to a bar and have a little fun, but it’s not until he’s driving the babysitter home that he gets the kind of fun he didn’t even know he wanted.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Hot Babysitter for @j3bingo

Warnings: flirting, age gap (20/41), pwp, daddy kink, praise kink, smut, oral sex (m rec), fingering, p in v.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I hope you enjoy this filth! 😘💖

My Masterlist AO3 Ko-Fi

“Come on, man!” Jared encouraged. “It’s been a year since your divorce. You gotta get back out there.”

“I’m not ready to date, Jar. I told you that. My focus is on my kids right now,” Jensen huffed, having lost count of how many times Jared had tried to get him to start dating.

“Hey, I didn’t say anything about dating,” Jared chuckled. “I’m talking about going out to a bar, having a few drinks, maybe taking a girl home for some fun. We could go out tomorrow? I’ll be your wingman, just like old times.”

“And where am I supposed to find a babysitter with such short notice, huh? Gen’s away, so it’s not like we can ask her,” Jensen retorted.

“I’ll ask Y/N,” Jared shrugged. “Gen and I trust her completely. She’s a med student and has been watching our kids for a couple of years now.”

“I don’t know, man,” Jensen groaned.

“She’s not a complete stranger to your kids either, you know. Y/N’s watched them before, too,” Jared continued, not taking notice of his friend’s reluctance. “Come on, even if it doesn’t end in a good time between the sheets with a hot girl—which I am all for, FYI, because, dude, how long has it been?—we can at least go out, have a few beers, watch a football game. What d’ya say?”

“It has been a long time since that. And even longer since I went to a bar to watch a game,” Jensen agreed. “And the Cowboys are playing. Yeah, alright, let’s do it.”

“Yeah?” Jared grinned.

“Yeah. Call Y/N and see if she’s free and doesn’t mind a couple of extra kids for the night.”

While driving to Jared’s, Jensen couldn’t help but feel excited for their night ahead. It had been so long since he’d taken any time to himself. He’d been so focused on his kids and work since the divorce and had fooled himself into thinking he was happy. He deserved to have a little fun. He still had a lot of life to live and a lot of love to give, and although he wasn’t looking to date quite yet, if someone caught his eye tonight, maybe he’d get lucky.

Jensen pulled up in the driveway, got himself and the kids out of the car, and went up to the house. With their families so close, the kids opened the Padalecki’s front door and ran straight into the house.

Chuckling, Jensen walked in after them and closed the door behind him. As he made his way down the hallway, a laugh as sweet as honey reached his ears, and he found himself straightening his posture and puffing his chest slightly.

“Hey, man,” Jared said as he walked into the kitchen, where a woman with Y/H/C hair had her back to him. “This is Y/N,” his friend continued, and when she turned around and smiled at him, Jensen’s heart skipped a beat, and everything else Jared said was lost in this stunning woman’s haze.

Y/N was hot and way out of his league, and not just because he was old enough to be her father. She was gorgeous with her big doe eyes, beautiful smile, curves in all the right places—

“Jay? You with me, man?” Jared’s voice pulls him away from his stupor and back to the two people in the room: Jared, with a concerned frown on his brow and Y/N, smirking softly at him and gently chewing on her bottom lip.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Just trying to remember if I locked the door when I left,” Jensen lied.

“Okay,” Jared said, not sounding entirely convinced but seemingly letting it go. “Ready to go?”

“Sure. Thanks for this, Y/N. I appreciate you taking on another two kids for the night,” Jensen said, finally getting something out to the girl.

“It’s my pleasure,” Y/N smiled softly, and he swore he saw a little bit of flirtatiousness in her eyes.

“Thanks, man. I think this is just what I needed,” Jensen said as he and Jared got into the car to drive home. “It’s been so long since we just grabbed a beer and some wings.”

“It has,” Jared agreed. “It was nice to have my buddy back, but I gotta ask, no interest in any of the women in there? At least five had their eyes on you, man, and some of them were gorgeous.”

“I don’t think I’m ready for that, but when I am, you’ll be the first to know.” It wasn’t entirely true. If Y/N were older, he’d definitely try and hit that, but he was far too old for her, and there was no chance she’d want to have sex with an old man.

They settled into a quiet ride back to Jared’s house, filled with light conversation on their plans for a day at the lake with the kids tomorrow.

Pulling into Jared’s drive for the second time that day, both men exited the vehicle and headed into the house and through to the living room.

Jensen stopped in the doorway, noticing that Y/N was watching a movie, her hair pulled back in a messy knot on top of her head, teasing him with her bare, unblemished neck that he wanted to cover in his marks.

He needed to get a grip of himself. And he definitely needed to dig out his favourite porn videos and carve out a little time to take care of himself because this was ridiculous. Y/N was hot; there was no doubting that, but his fascination with her had to be because of his lack of sexual release.

“Hey,” Y/N said when she saw them. “The kids are fine. They’re all asleep in the tent we put up in the playroom.”

“Great, thanks, Y/N. They didn’t give you any trouble?” Jared checked.

“None. They were perfect, as always,” Y/N smiled as she put on her jacket, threw her backpack over her shoulder, and tucked the cash Jared had given her for babysitting into her pocket.

“Thanks again. I appreciate you coming out at short notice and giving up your weekend,” Jared smiled at the young woman.

“They’re good kids, so it’s no problem. Plus, I managed to get some studying done without my roommates being too loud,” she giggled.

“I appreciate it all the same,” Jared nodded. “Hey, man,” he added, turning his attention to Jensen. “Why don’t you leave the kids here for the night? They’re sleeping comfortably, and you’ll be over for breakfast anyway, right?”

“You sure?” Jensen checked.

“Yeah,” Jared confirmed. “No point in waking and upsetting them when they’ll be coming back here anyway.”

“Alright, thanks, Jared,” Jensen said as he slapped his friend on the back, his mind already drifting to those porn videos. “Y/N, do you need a ride home? I didn’t see a car out there, and it’s the least I can do.”

“Sure. Thank you, Jensen,” Y/N replied, a shy smirk pulling at lips.

“How was your night?” Y/N asked as they climbed into his car.

“Good. It’s been a while since I just went for a beer with a friend,” Jensen replied.

“So it was just a drink with a friend? No ladies on your radar? Jared made it sound like you were out on the prowl, and he needed to be your wingman!” Y/N grinned at him.

“Uh, there were a few pretty girls, sure, but I’m not looking for that right now.”

“That’s a shame. I would’ve done anything to get a handsome guy like you to go home with me,” Y/N grinned wider, giggling when his head snapped towards her with his eyebrows practically hitting his hairline.

“Sweetheart, I’m old enough to be your dad!” Jensen spluttered.

“I don’t mind older men. In fact, I prefer them… Daddy,” Y/N looked at him and batted her lashes.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jensen gasped. He couldn’t believe she wanted him. “We can’t.” It was a weak attempt, but he needed to at least look like he was trying to turn down his best friend’s hot babysitter.

“But why, Daddy? Don’t you want me? Was I a bad girl?” she pouted and slid her hand into his lap, palming his hard cock through his denims.

“Shit! We’re really doing this?” Jensen groaned when she squeezed his erection, and she nodded her head.

“If you want to,” Y/N said, dropping her act. “If not, you can drive me home, and we’ll pretend this never happened. But if you want me, I’m yours.”

Jensen was speechless. An incredibly attractive twenty-year-old woman was in his car, calling him Daddy, making his dick harder than it had ever been, and offering herself to him on a platter. He must’ve died and gone to heaven.

“I want you, Y/N. Fuck, I’d be crazy not to. You’re fucking perfect,” Jensen said, looking into her eyes and making sure she heard him. He chuckled when her face lit up at his praise, noting that not only did this girl have a daddy kink, which he’d happily indulge her with, but a praise kink, too.

“Then let’s go home, Daddy.”

“That’s my good girl,” Jensen praised, watching Y/N undo his belt and pants and pull his stiff cock from his boxers. “Open up, sweetheart, let Daddy in.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open, and he groaned at the sight. “That’s it, baby girl,” he praised again, pushing himself between her plump lips.

Jensen moaned deep and long as she timidly closed her lips around him and sucked, gently rubbing her tongue over his leaking slit.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so good at that. You love sucking daddy’s cock, huh?” Jensen groaned when she nodded. “Yeah, I know you do, baby girl. Come on, I know you can take more than that.”

Y/N moaned around him, taking more of his cock down her throat, gagging on his length.

“Fuck, yeah, baby girl. Just like that. So good for your daddy, huh? Are you Daddy’s good little girl?” Jensen grunted as he pushed a little deeper.

“Yes, Daddy,” she gasped as he pulled himself from her throat and grabbed her chin, squeezing gently and running his fingers over her spit-slick lips.

“Do you need Daddy to help you undress, or are you a big girl that can do it herself?”

“I can do it, Daddy,” Y/N said as she quickly stripped out of her clothes.

Jensen groaned as his hands skimmed over her perfect, perky breasts and down her taut stomach. “You’re so perfect, baby girl. Daddy loves this beautiful body,” Jensen rasped. “Get up on the bed, sweetheart, and spread those pretty little legs. Let Daddy get a good look at you.”

Y/N climbed on his bed and crawled towards the headboard. Laying down, she spread her legs wide and smirked at Jensen’s deep groan.

“Good girl,” he praised as he crawled up the bed, caressed his hands over her thighs, pushed them apart and lowered his head to her hot, wet centre. “Fucking delicious,” he groaned, licking from the bottom of her slit to the top.

Pushing through her folds, he moaned when her slick pooled on his tongue, and he quickly lapped it up, licking and sucking and thrusting his wet muscle into her tight, dripping hole.

He moved to her clit, licking and sucking on the tiny bud while his fingers toyed with her entrance, circling it gently before slipping one inside.

“So fucking tight, baby girl,” Jensen grunted against her clit. “Gonna need to loosen you up before you can take Daddy’s big cock in your tight little pussy.” He added another finger and curled them upwards, rubbing against her sweet spot over and over.

“Daddy!” Y/N gasped, grinding her hips down on his fingers desperately.

“What is it, baby?” Jensen asked, looking up between her legs and seeing her desperate little pout. “Is Daddy making you feel good?”

“Yes! More, Daddy, please!” she begged.

“Oh, you sound so pretty when you beg, baby girl, and you know Daddy can’t resist when you beg.” He pulled his fingers from her and sucked her juices from them with a hum before crawling up her body and caging her beneath him.

“Please!” she mumbled again, and Jensen couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Alright, since my little princess begged so prettily, she can have Daddy’s cock in her sweet, tight, perfect little pussy,” Jensen growled and pushed his hips forward.

Y/N’s brow furrowed in pleasure with every inch he pushed inside her. When his hips met hers, and he couldn’t go any further, he groaned deeply at the feel of her tight cunt, stretching and fluttering to accommodate his intrusion.

“Fuck!” Jensen roared. “You feel so good, baby girl. So fucking tight and perfect for Daddy, fuck!” He pulled back his hips and slammed forward again, placing his hand on her stomach and pushing down gently, groaning lowly as he felt himself move inside her.

Y/N’s eyes rolled back, and her hips moved with his. “Fuck, Daddy! You’re so big. Feel so good, so full,” she moaned.

“Yeah? That’s because this little pussy was made just for me, sweetheart.” He’d never felt a pussy so good, and the daddy roleplaying they were doing made everything ten times hotter. “Who owns this sweet little pussy, baby girl?”

“You do, Daddy,” Y/N whined.

“That’s right, Daddy owns it. It’s mine,” he grunted with every jerk of his hips, and when Y/N’s orgasm hit, Jensen stalled his movements, holding himself inside her as her tight walls squeezed and pulsed around his cock.

“Fuck, baby girl! You feel so fucking good. I’m gonna come, sweetheart. You want Daddy’s come, huh?” Jensen chuckled as Y/N nodded desperately.

“Yeah? Where do you want Daddy to come?” he gasped, pulling his hips back and pounding roughly into her still-quivering heat.

“Inside me, Daddy, please! I need it!” Y/N whined. Jensen groaned loudly, pushing himself as far in as he could, and came hard, resting against her cervix.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped when he finally regained his senses and pulled his spent and softening cock from her satiated hole. “That was hot, sweetheart, and something I’d be up for more of with you.”

“It was,” she agreed with a giggle. “Unexpected, but hot, and something I definitely want to do with you again.”

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#j3bingo #the babysitter #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles smut

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