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Summary: Gabe wants someone to love, and someone to love him. Richard needs someone to save him from himself. But how do they find that in each other when there’s a force that wants to destroy Richard’s world, and reality as they know it?
Warnings: smut, dad’s best friend trope, slight age gap, flashback to fairly graphic abuse by ex-boyfriend
Beta: @plaid-lover-bay25 because who else would indulge me like this.
Notes: I've never written the "dad's best friend" trope before and I'm hella nervous about even posting it, but something about this is so hot to me?? Idk, envision a teen father who is now approaching 50 and his best friend just happens to be Jared Padalecki. This is the brainchild of that scenario. It's the first thing I've written in a while, especially smut-wise so I hope I don't let you all down, ily byeee <3
Read it on ao3 here
Slinging a cardboard box across the almost-empty living room, he straightens up, lifts his hat a bit, and wipes the sweat off his forehead.
“Had to pick the hottest day of the year to move, darlin’?” Jared teases, his brows raised.
You let out a nervous chuckle, looking down and muttering, “Sorry.”
“He’s kidding.” Your mom, Sheila, purses her lips and shoots Jared a pointed look. “I’m just glad your new place has central air.” She slumps into the corner cushion of the sectional sofa you had delivered the day before.
“You really didn’t have to come help.” Your voice stays low as you chance a quick glance in Jared’s direction.
“And miss you moving into your first apartment? I don’t think so.” He frowns and shakes his head.
You mirror his frown, eyebrows pulling together and forming two small lines between them. “This isn’t my-”
“Your first apartment solo.” He corrects himself. “The one with that douchebag doesn’t count.”
“Jared!” Sheila admonishes him, knowing how hard it is for you to talk about your ex, after all he’d put you through.
“Mom, it’s fine.” You brush her off with a wave of your hand, then take a deep, steadying breath. “Derek is a thing of the past. I haven’t heard from him since I left him that night.”
Jared pulls his lips between his teeth, his jaw clenching as his hand balls into a fist at his side. You watch him, eyes lingering on the way his forearms flex while he makes a feeble attempt to release the tension flowing through him. He shakes it off, literally, and exhales roughly.
“I - I’m almost done here.” You clear your throat. “You all can head home, I just have a few more things to unpack.”
“The bed’s not even made.” Your mom chides, and your cheeks heat again.
“I can handle it.” You reply quietly.
“Alright, alright.” She lifts her hands in surrender.
“C’mon, let’s let her settle in on her own.” Your dad, Kevin, walks down the stairs and perches himself next to your mom, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.
“What are you having for dinner, honey?” Sheila sits up straight, suddenly panicked at the thought of you not eating.
“I’ll just order a pizza or something. That’ll keep me fed for a few nights.” You shrug.
“You are not having pizza for the next few nights!” Her voice comes out shrill, scolding.
“Mom.” You look at her with wide eyes. “I will be fine.”
“Pizza will be here in twenty.” Jared wiggles his phone between his thumb and index finger. “Three pizzas, that way you can have the leftovers for another night.”
Your eyes shoot to your mother and your expression says, “See?” She just purses her lips and sighs.
“Thank you, Jared.” You smile at him, and he gives you a quick wink. It shouldn’t make your stomach flip, but it does. You avoid looking at Jared for the next few minutes, but you can feel his eyes lingering on you when the conversation between him and Kevin lulls.
The pizza arrives within fifteen minutes, so you all move to sit around your small, IKEA dining room table with matching chairs. Your dad finds a six-pack of beer in the fridge, bringing one over for himself and one for Jared. Jared takes a sip of his own, then frowns as your dad settles in and begins taking long pulls of his beer without also bringing one for you - the host of the dinner. Jared slides his bottle across the small space between your plate and his, smiling and subtly nodding when you raise a questioning brow at him. You lick your lips before lifting the bottle to your mouth, Jared swallowing thickly as your eyes close and you drink in the punchy, bitter beer.
Kevin looks up from his slice of pizza as you pass the bottle back to Jared, and Kevin clears his throat. “Sorry, kiddo, did you want one?” The problem with your dad having been so young when you were born - five years shy of being able to legally drink himself - is that he sometimes forgets you’re old enough to drink a beer with him, despite it having been nearly a decade since your first legal alcoholic beverage.
“I mean, yeah kinda.” You chuckle. “Don’t worry about it, Dad.” You stop him as he moves to get another beer from the fridge. “That sip satisfied my craving.” Jared shifts a bit in his seat beside you. Your dad shrugs and the four of you settle into silence again, save for the sounds of eating and drinking.
Half an hour later, you walk toward the front door with everyone, preparing to usher them out. “Thank you for dinner.” You look up at Jared. “And thanks for helping.”
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” He smiles, a teasing lilt to his voice. “I hope you enjoy your leftovers. Life hack?” You cringe at his use of the very, very millennial term, making him tip his head back with a short cackle. “Put your slices in the oven instead of the microwave to reheat them.”
“Reheat them? Jared, I’m eating them cold later tonight after I drink whatever beer my dad decided to leave me.”
“Cold?! Oh my god, you’re insufferable.” He groans, running a hand down his face.
“I just have an appreciation for the finer things in life.” You toss your hair over your shoulder and grin.
“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes.
“So, thank you for my cold late night snack.”
“We should get going.” Sheila interrupts your banter solemnly. “Head home and let you finish unpacking. Unless you want me to stay and help! I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Mom.” You level a glare at her. “I am fine. I can handle unpacking the rest of it. I think it’s just my room, right? The kitchen is done. I… don’t have much else.”
“Are you sure? I can help with your room, your clothes, whatever you need.” She rushes out.
“Hun, she said she’ll be fine. She’ll be fine.” Kevin laughs as he rubs your mom’s back. “We’ve been in her hair all day, let’s let her relax and spend a night on her own.”
“Oh my god!” Tears fill your mom’s eyes. “This is your first night on your own, really and truly on your own!”
“Please.” You groan softly. “I will be okay.”
“Call if you need anything. You promise you will?!” She wipes at her eyes.
“I will call you if I need anything, Mom, I promise, but I swear to you that I will be okay.”
Jared looks on as you soothe your mother, mouthing a silent apology to him over her shoulder. He smiles, shaking his head subtly, a quiet assurance that he doesn’t mind witnessing the family moments - he’d been around for enough of them at cookouts, birthday parties, Sunday dinners.
Finally, after your mother releases her iron grip on you, you step out of her embrace and look between your parents.
“Thank you guys.” You feel your voice trembling, so you don’t dare say more.
You’re thankful to them for, well, everything of course, but right now, top of mind, you’re thankful for the time they allowed you to live in their home, to recover from your devastating breakup without as much as a single, “I told you so,” from either of them.
Your ex, Derek, was the most problematic person you’d ever met, but you’d been completely blinded by his love-bombing. The flowers every week that he insisted on getting, even when last week’s weren’t showing any signs of wilting, the jewelry to celebrate any small occasion, the big takeout dinners every month when your period rendered you motionless on the couch with a heating pad. He put on such a show, such a facade in the beginning, you couldn’t help but fall for it. You moved out of your apartment with your best friend of fifteen years and into Derek’s place. That’s when it - when he - started spiraling. He yelled every time you did anything he didn’t like. If you left a bobby pin on the vanity countertop in the bathroom, he screamed about the mess you were making. If you didn’t make the bed after getting up in the morning, he’d remind you how lazy you were. If dinner wasn’t made for him when he got home from work, he’d call you while you worked your own job and leave you a string of voicemails calling you every awful name under the sun. It didn’t matter if you did have to work that night, in his eyes, nothing should’ve stopped you from cooking him a full meal and leaving it in the refrigerator for him to reheat when he was home alone. He said it was your job, your role in his life, to make sure his house stayed in perfect condition, no matter what other responsibilities you had, calling himself “old fashioned” in his beliefs. In reality, he was just a shitty misogynist who got off on making women feel lesser-than.
One night, after your waitressing shift at the diner, it finally came to a head. You didn’t make dinner before you had to leave for work, but you’d left $40 - all your tip money from the week before - and a note, apologizing and making sure Derek could order food. You walked through the door and immediately had to dodge an empty beer bottle. As you recovered from the scare, he flicked a bottle cap at you, the sharp metal edge digging into your upper arm and leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake.
“God damn it!” You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth and grabbed your arm with your opposite hand. “What the hell?” You reached for the light switch. Derek had been sitting in the dark, waiting for you, so he could attack you. Wincing against the harsh overhead light, you found him seated at the far end of the dining room table, a mass of empty beer bottles beside him, just waiting to be used as ammunition. “Derek, what’s going on?”
“What’s going on?” He chuckled darkly, shaking his head. “You know good and god damned well, you’re supposed to have a meal waiting for me when I get home.”
“I left money! Made sure there was enough to cover delivery so you didn’t have to leave the house again!” You defended, arms tense and ready to cover your face to defend against another glass bottle hurtled in your direction.
“I don’t want delivery. I want a home cooked meal.” His voice was so sinister, it sent a chill up your spine. Derek raised up out of his chair, a beer bottle swinging from where he pinched it between his index and middle fingers. “You know, baby. You know I love the food you cook. Is it so horrible to ask for you to cook for me every night?” The guilt. His tantrums always came with a guilt trip. In every scenario, you were the bad person for making him suffer so horribly with whatever you’d done, or forgotten to do.
“I know, Derek. I know. I’m sorry, I just - I wasn’t feeling well today, I didn’t have the energy to cook.”
“You weren’t feeling well.” He nodded, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. Before you could react, his right arm came up and swung at you. His fist collided with the drywall beside your head. His hand came away dripping blood, spatters of it lingering on the cracked plaster where he’d connected.
You knew the alcohol had made him worse, heightened his emotions, but it didn’t matter. He was too far gone, whether he was sober or not. You screamed and ran. You bolted to your left, darting past him and taking off down the hallway. You locked the bedroom door and skidded your dresser across the floor to block him from opening the door. Then you went to the closet. You flung the door open and hid inside, reaching above your head for a suitcase and heaving it, open, onto the floor. You grabbed as many clothes as you could and shoved them inside, then pressed down on the top and zipped it closed. From inside the closet, you heard the faint sound of glass shattering in the hallway.
His voice came next, muffled through both doors, but he was yelling loud enough for you to hear. “I swear to god, I’m gonna kill you, you little bitch! I’ve let it go this far, but this? You wanted me to eat fucking delivered, soggy pizza?” He cackled, and you swore he didn’t even sound human anymore. “You’ll never cook me another bland, poor excuse for a meal again, you hear me? You’ll never even see the other side of this goddamned door.” The sound of his fist flying into the wooden door echoed through the room, rattled the walls.
You pulled your phone from your bra and dialed your dad’s number. He answered on the second ring, you apologized for calling so late, and then the tears came. Your voice shook, you gasped in breaths as you explained what was happening, and then another voice came over the phone.
“We’re on our way.”
Jared.
Your dad’s best friend since college, since they met at that frat party your dad’s junior year and won the beer pong tournament together.
Now the two of them were on their way to you - to save you from your abusive boyfriend. The boyfriend everyone warned you about, the one you tried to deny was “that way,” but everyone else saw through the ruse, and they’d been right. They were right, you were wrong, and now you were paying for your naivety.
Your dad’s truck tires screeched into the driveway of Derek’s house, and you finally stopped trembling, tucked under the clothes on the floor of the closet. You were safe.
Then the closet door flew open and Derek’s hand gripped onto your hair. He dragged you from the closet, bouncing you off the corner of his nightstand, whipping you past the edge of the bedframe, and into the hallway.
“I want your dad to watch me when I smash in his pretty little daughter’s pretty little face.” He taunted. He dropped your hair then, slamming your head into the hardwood floor. His boot connected with your ribs, a sharp cracking sound, along with your shrill scream, piercing the air. The front door opened wide, splintering around the latch, and Jared stormed into the house. He ran to you, but not before Derek got in a few punches. Your neck, the side of your head, and he poised to connect with your nose, but Jared grabbed his arm before Derek had the chance.
Jared dragged him backwards as your dad fell to his knees on the floor beside you. You gasped in ragged breaths, your cracked ribs making it hard to breathe deeply. Jared had Derek restrained, and your dad sat right beside you, holding your hand and brushing your blood-addled hair from your face until the ambulance arrived.
Since they discharged you from the hospital, you’d been living at your parents’ house again, in your childhood bedroom, still painted in bright swirls of pink and orange. Until today. Until you moved into your own apartment, into a new life with a fresh start.
You snap back to the present and out of the memory of the night that still haunts you, and you feel Jared’s hand on your forearm.
“You good?” He asks softly, and you’re silently pleading with the powers that be that your parents didn’t notice your drifting the way Jared did. You give him a gentle nod and he nods back, pulling his hand from your skin. He clears his throat, redirecting the conversation. “It’s a nice place.” Jared says as he looks around, drawing out his goodbye. The apartment is half of a duplex building, two floors, three bedrooms, two bathrooms, 1,500 square feet all to yourself, for the first time in your life. “It’s a big place,” he clears his throat, “for just you, I mean.”
You nod in agreement. “Maybe I’ll get a cat or something.”
Jared’s nose scrunches, and he shakes his head. “Get a dog.” He counters.
“It’s my apartment, Jared.” You laugh. “If I want a cat, I’m gonna get a cat.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes playfully. “Don’t expect me to visit too much if you get a cat.”
“Get a cat.” Your dad chimes in from his spot by the front door, watching you and Jared with suspicious eyes.
“Noted, Dad.” You shake your head and smile fondly at your parents. “Thanks again.” You glance between all of them. “You should hit the road.”
The others agree and each hug you a little longer than any of them should, and then they’re gone. You’re alone.
You head to the kitchen and grab one of the two beers left in your fridge, silently cursing your dad for not leaving you more. You wanted to get good and drunk, and now you couldn’t, because he had two beers with dinner. With a huff, you set the beer on the counter and head for your bedroom to get changed. When you walk through the door, you’re hit with the sudden realization that you still have to make your bed - and not just put sheets over the mattress. Your bedframe is in pieces in the middle of the floor. You groan and grab the screwdriver set from where your dad left it on the corner of your dresser, then sit in the center of your bedroom floor and get to work putting the pieces together like an oversized, abstract jigsaw puzzle.
A knock on your door has you pausing your television and tossing your blanket to the side with a small groan.
“I really need to get that video doorbell set up.” You mutter to yourself before deciding to grab the blanket and wrap it around yourself, clad in only a tight tank top and shorts. The knock comes again, more softly, more hesitantly. “Coming!” You shuffle toward the door, peeking out the window at the top.
Despite the blanket, a chill runs up your spine as you see who’s on the other side. Regardless, you open the door slowly.
“Hi there.” His voice bellows as he gives you a nervous smile.
“I - um, hi…?” You try to peek around him to see if someone else - namely, your dad - is with him.
“Just me.” He smirks as you settle back on your flat feet after confirming he’s alone.
“Wh- what’re you doing here, Jared?” You lick your lips, nervousness flitting around your stomach, his eyes trained on your mouth.
“I know you better than you think I do, darlin’.” He nods toward the doorway, silently asking if you’ll invite him in.
You step back, giving him space to walk through the door. “Yeah, yeah, sorry. Come in.” After he closes the door behind him - and you don’t miss him clicking both locks into place - you turn to look at him again. “What do you mean, you know me better than I think you do?”
“I mean,” he clears his throat, “I saw the way you bit your bottom lip earlier, when you were talking about that asshole who hurt you.”
“I… don’t understand.” You shake your head, avoiding meeting his eyes.
“Yes you do.” He pushes. “You said you hadn’t heard from him, and then you bit your lip. It’s your tell.”
“My what?” You stammer.
“Your tell. You do it when you lie, every time.”
“No!” Your head shoots up, eyes finally finding his. “I do not.”
“Yes, you do.” He nods solidly and takes a step closer to you. “I know you better than you think I do.” His repetition of the phrase makes it sink lower in your chest. “And I know you’re lying about hearing from him. So tell me what he’s said to you since then. What he’s done.”
“It’s nothing.” You brush it off and look at the floor. Jared’s hand comes into your field of vision, his index finger finding your chin and lifting your head to look at him again. “It’s nothing.” Your voice comes out meek, barely above a whisper, and shaky.
“Tell me.” His thumb rests on the front of your chin, pinching it between his fingers.
“You…” Your voice continues to shake. “I… I don’t know. He…” You can’t finish a thought. Not with him as close as he is, touching you the way he is, staring into your eyes. “Just, um, here.” You back out of his gentle grasp and reach for your phone. “I can show you.”
Jared nods, flexing his fingers in and out of a fist, like his skin tingles where it touched yours. He reaches out and takes your phone from your hand. “Shit. This is a lot.” He sighs and motions to the couch. “You mind if I…?”
“Go ahead.” You watch his long body fold as he sits on the chaise cushion of your sofa. He nudges his boots off and props his feet up as his thumb scrolls down the text thread, jaw clenching and unclenching as he reads your ex-boyfriend’s words.
“I always fucking hated that guy.” He mumbles, tossing your phone and his hat to the side and sitting up. His elbows rest on his knees, his head in his hands, fingers pulling on his hair. “God, I can’t fucking stand him. I can’t believe I let him live the night he put his hands on you.”
“It doesn’t matter, Jared. I don’t miss him, I don’t ever want to see him again.”
“It matters. He hurt you. He threatened you.” Jared’s voice turns harsh. “He threatened to find you, ‘wherever you moved to,’ and kill you!”
“He’s not going to find me.” You insist. “I - I have a security system.”
“That why you opened the door to me tonight? You have one of those video doorbells?” He raises his brows, but you don’t answer. “You haven’t set it up yet, have you?” You shake your head silently, and Jared lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Where is it?”
“In the box in my room.” You can’t bring yourself to say the words loudly enough for him to hear, but he hears you anyway. “I’ll set it up tomorrow.”
“You’ll set it up right now.” He stands from the couch. “I’ll set it up right now.” Jared heads for the stairs.
“No!” You dart in front of him, blanket forgotten in your rush. You step in front of him just as he lifts his right leg to place his foot on the first step, pressing your palm against his knee and pushing his leg back to the floor. “No.”
Jared grins and watches your hand fall back to hang at your side. “What’s up there that you don’t want me to see?”
Damn it. He does know you better than you think.
“I haven’t made my bed yet.” You rush out, and then your teeth sink into your lower lip.
“The lip bite.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Just let me go get the box. I promise I won’t even look at anything else. Not even your unmade bed.” He takes a step closer again, and you can feel the heat coming from him. Texas in July means everything is hot, but this seems… otherworldly.
He’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Why he’s wearing that in the middle of the summer, in Austin, Texas, you’ll never understand. But the way the heat seeps through the fabric of his clothing and into your skin - that’s something you’ve never felt before.
Jared feels it too, whatever is buzzing between the two of you. His eyes are dark, his chest heaving as he tries to steady his breathing. You take a chance and inch closer to him, eyes locked together.
“If you’re not going to let me set up the security system, then I’m staying here tonight.”
“No you’re not.” You look at him incredulously. “I’ll make sure everything is locked down tight after you leave.”
“I’m not leaving.” He folds his arms over his chest, his forearms brushing against your breasts because of your proximity. At his touch, your nipples harden and you draw in a quick breath, hoping he doesn’t catch it. But he does. Of course he does.
Jared’s eyelids sink slightly lower and send his eyes into a darker shade of hazel. Full of intention, you press yourself closer to him, pushing the hardened peaks of your breasts into his arm. His self-control snaps. He dives for you, his massive hand splaying across your lower back, dragging your body against his. His mouth meets yours, a clash of lips and teeth, and you cling to his shirt. His hands move to hold your face, fingertips digging into the back of your neck as he tries to keep you as close as he can, the kiss deepening. Finally, you pull yourself away from him and gasp.
“This - this is… so not good.” Your breath comes out in hard pants, your forehead pressed against Jared’s.
“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” He reaches up and tucks hair behind your ear. “Right now, don’t worry about it.” Jared tangles your fingers with his and leads you up the stairs. When he reaches the landing at the top, he spins you back to face him and crashes his mouth to yours again. His kisses are bitey, his teeth scraping and nipping at your soft lips. You’re breathless, body arching into him.
Jared takes you to your room, knowing where he’s going after dropping moving box after moving box there earlier in the day. Reaching behind you, you push the door open and drag him inside, fingers twisted into the front of his shirt. His hands tug on your hips, keeping you close to him, his pelvis pressed against your stomach. He walks you backward to your bed, pressing you down into the mattress.
Jared frowns in realization. “Your bed is made.” His voice is thick, heavy with desire, and he talks low in your ear.
“I know.” You nod, nerves bubbling up in your throat.
“You told me it wasn’t.”
“I know. I - I didn’t want you coming up here.” You confess, making Jared pull back.
“I’m up here right now.” He counters.
“I didn’t want you up here…” you exhale, “unless it was with me.”
A growl rumbles low in Jared’s chest and he hoists you up the bed until your head is resting on the pillows. You reach up and run your fingers back through his hair. He drops his head down to kiss you again, and you can feel the difference. He’s more tender now, the heat of his passion still hidden behind his movements, but he’s reining it in.
His hands slide up your hips, calloused fingers ghosting over your soft skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. His fingertips dip under your shirt, skimming the supple underside of your breast. Jared’s thumb traces a line across until the pad of his finger thrums over your nipple. You inhale, the sound echoing inside of his mouth. He swallows the noise, and you feel his teeth again as he smiles into the kiss.
Pushing up slightly, you break apart long enough for him to pull the shirt over your head, then reach up behind his own head and yank his own shirt off by the back of the collar. The swift motion of it, the way he moves so fluidly, and the way you can feel his oblique muscles rippling under your fingertips as they rest on his ribcage, it sends you into a frenzy. You can’t get your lips back on him fast enough. He moves from kissing your lips down to nipping at your jaw, then nosing into the pulse point on your neck. You tip your head to the opposite side and let out a whimper at the scratchiness of his scruffy face against the sensitive skin of your neck.
Your hands grip onto the rounded tops of his shoulders and hold him there, still kneeling slightly, before he can pin you to the bed again under his toned body. He understands and props himself up on one palm resting on the bed beside your torso. With trembling fingers, you find the button and zipper of his jeans. Each clack of the zipper sounds like a clap of thunder sounding in your room. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, you’re certain he can hear it, but he just gives you a warm, encouraging smile.
“Go ‘head, sweetheart.” He drawls, his voice gravelly. It’s the push you need, and it gives you the confidence to push his pants down his legs. His underwear goes with them, the boxer briefs giving you a harder time than you’d like to admit - or think about - as they hug tightly to his hard length. When the garments are gone, your mouth falls open slightly. He’s big. You could feel the hardened bulge of him pressing against you while you kissed, but without anything between the two of you, you’re in awe of just how massive he is.
He tips your face back to his, Jared’s finger tucked under your chin again just as he had downstairs, and looks straight into your eyes.
“Can I…?” His question is quiet, his voice hoarse. You nod, and he shakes his head with a smile. “Gotta hear it out loud, darlin’.”
“Yes, Jared. Please.” You’re begging, shameless, and he’s barely even touched you.
His smile grows, and he presses a hard kiss to your lips before his fingers hook into the elastic waistband of your shorts. Tugging them down, he exhales through pursed lips. His eyes fall closed for a second and his eyebrows go up. You’re nervous, terrified he doesn’t like what he sees.
“I - we… don’t have to-” You stammer, quickly trying to cover yourself with the blankets, but you’re laying on top of them, so they don’t budge.
“No, no.” Jared reaches for your hand fumbling with the blankets. “We absolutely have to. You are…” He exhales again. “You are fucking gorgeous.”
Jared’s lips meet the skin of your neck while his hands explore the newly uncovered parts of your body. He trails from your neck, across your collarbone, down to your chest. Taking his time, he laves over each nipple, the hardened buds more sensitive than you’ve ever felt them, your body reacting to each and every motion of his tongue.
He kisses from your chest down your torso, hot breath brushing over your stomach. He stops and places a kiss just beside your navel. His eyes flick up to meet yours over the length of your body, and you’re floored by the intensity of his gaze.
“So fucking beautiful.” His words are muffled as he speaks them into the skin of your hip.
Jared wedges his shoulders between your thighs, propping your legs up on either side of him. His lips grab onto the skin of your inner thigh, teeth and tongue following shortly after. You know you’ll have a bruise there in the morning, and your body shivers with anticipation of remembering where he’s been.
His palms press against the inside of your knees, spreading you open even more to him, putting you on full display in front of his face. Your breath hitches as he drinks you in, running his tongue across his lower lip. Jared places his thumbs on either side of your clit and spreads his fingers apart. Then he dips his head down and runs his tongue in a straight line up your center.
You gasp loudly, fingers twisting into his hair, and you feel him smile against your most sensitive parts. He’s going faster now, becoming more reckless between your legs. He’s eating you out, devouring you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, grunting and humming his satisfaction at the taste of you on his tongue. The vibrations of his mouth set brand new sensations alight inside of you, and you rock your hips upward for more of him.
Jared takes the hint and brings the middle finger of his right hand to press against your entrance. He rubs small circles, waiting for you to draw him in without resistance. When your body lurches at the ministrations of his tongue, his finger slips inside. He presses on, rocking his finger back and forth until you’re wet enough for him to add his ring finger too. He stretches you, the crook of his fingertips threatening to push you to the brink of insanity if you don’t find your release soon.
“Come on, baby.” He pulls his mouth off of you long enough to speak and inhale sharply before getting back to work.
“Right there!” You grind against his fingers pumping in and out of you. Clamping your eyes shut, light swirls behind your lids and you see stars as your legs tremble and you fall apart.
Jared hums. “Good girl.” You can hear the smile in his voice. His breathing is ragged, his chest heaving as he hovers over you again. “Such a good girl for me.”
You run your fingers through the hair dusted across his chest before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. He’s fully hard, erection heavy where it presses against your core.
“I need you.” You whisper hotly in his ear. He draws his hips back and sinks into you slowly, glacially, the head breaching your entrance with a delicious sting. Jared slides himself fully into you. Your fingernails dig into his back muscles, the harshness of that combined with the soft feeling of you wrapped around him making him groan. The sound reverberates through you, and your eyes roll back into your head. You won’t close them though; you want to see, to witness every moment of him losing himself to you. You need to watch him fall apart, this man you’ve been yearning for, who you’ve had countless dreams about, who saved you from the lowest you’ve ever been. You owe him everything, and that’s exactly what you plan to give him.
“Don’t hold back.” You exhale between his thrusts, between your moans.
Jared shakes his head. “Gotta be careful with you, sweetheart.”
“No,” your fingers tangle into the sweat-dampened hair at the nape of his neck as you shake your head, “please don’t be careful with me.” You pull his face back by the roots of his hair, looking into those burning hazel eyes. “Fuck me, Jared.” Jared’s resolve, his restraint, whatever it was keeping him from giving you his all, breaks completely. His hips piston forward, the bed creaking under the force. Your fingers keep their grip on his hair, tugging softly and spurring him on. He likes it, the way you’re pulling, directing him in a way he’s never seen you take control before.
Suddenly, you’re falling. Not figuratively. You’re literally falling, your bed collapsing under you.
You shriek, and Jared stops, stilling completely but remaining inside of you.
“Oh my god…” You groan, closing your eyes and burying your face in the crook of his neck.
Jared can’t help himself. He falls into a fit of laughter. It becomes contagious, and you’re laughing right along with him.
“I’m so sorry.” Your laughter fades.
“Don’t be sorry.” Jared shakes his head and kisses you softly. “Not your fault whoever put that together is a shoddy craftsman.”
You glare at him. “Woman.” He pulls his lips together tightly. “It was me.”
“I’m sorry.” He tries to hold back a laugh.
“Don’t be sorry.” You echo his own words back to him before you clench your muscles, tightening yourself around him. He grunts.
“Shit.” He hisses.
The mood has shifted again, despite the rubble of your bed laying under and around you. You press your palm against his chest, making him sit up.
“On your back.” You command softly.
“Fuck. Yes, ma’am.” He breathes out harshly and moves, holding your hips as he goes, and bringing you along with him. He rolls onto his back, your knees planted on either side of his hip bones.
With a trembling breath, you sink down onto him, and he feels deeper than before with the different angle. You throw your head back, chest thrusting forward toward him. With his left hand, he reaches up and cups your breast, thumb and index finger pinching and rolling your nipple. You buck your hips wildly in response, every sensation heightened. Jared thrusts up into you, the sound of skin slapping skin fills the air as you bounce on his lap.
Both of his hands fall to your hips again and he squeezes tightly. For the second time, you’re left with a mark of where he’s been. You relish the idea of seeing the bruises in the mirror tomorrow morning, of tracing the purpling skin where Jared marked you as his. As if he can read your mind, his grip on your hips tightens, the rhythm in his own movements stuttering as his climax inches closer.
Just the thought of being his, of belonging to Jared, is enough to send you careening over the edge. You’re in freefall, thighs shaking and inner walls contracting around Jared’s length. He follows you with two more sporadic jerks of his hips, a shout of your name falling from his perfect mouth. As he groans, the sound less strangled now, coming down from his high, you lean forward and lock your lips with his. Your tongue presses into his bottom lip, and then his tongue invades you. You can still taste yourself in his mouth, and that combined with the feeling of him still throbbing inside of you is a heady mixture. You feel drunk, but it wasn’t because of the half of a beer you left on the counter downstairs.
It’s Jared. It’s always been Jared.
You break the kiss, pulling away from him hesitantly, not wanting this to end, but knowing it has to. Slowly, both because you want to stay connected to him and because your legs feel weak and shaky, you manage to climb off of Jared and lay beside him. Both of you are breathing heavily, staring at the ceiling, and the silence is thick, like neither of you are ready to talk about what just happened.
Jared breaks it first.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been thinkin’ about doin’ that.” He confesses, shaking his head with his right hand tucked behind his head. He reaches his left arm out straight, opening it up to you. “C’mere, sweetheart.”
You breathe a sigh of relief, realizing you were absolutely terrified of him just up and leaving when the two of you were finished. You let yourself relax into his side, your head on his chest while your hand traces invisible lines through his sparse chest hair.
“Remind me in the morning,” he yawns, pulling you tighter into his side, “to fix this bed the right way.”
“I can fix it.” You insist, eyes closed as you snuggle your head against his chest.
“No. No way.” He laughs lightly. “I will fix it, so that doesn’t happen again the next time I fuck you into this mattress.”
Part One of A Part To Play Series
Title: Playing With Yourself
Total Chapters: 1
Words: 4,248
Fandom: Supernatural/Supernatural RPF
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Smut, Dubious Consent, Unprotected Sex
Summary: Rich receives a surprise visitor during the night. A visitor that he might not be able to handle in more ways than one.
Ao3 Link
Born This Way: J2 x Reader. Dancing at a Pride party. 453 words, PG.
Welcome Home - Jensen x Reader + praise kink. 567 words, explicit.
Puppy Love: Jared x Reader. Self-esteem issues and fluff. 769 words, PG-13.
Detour: Jared x Jensen. Jensen is bossy. 336 words, mature.
The Present: J2 x Reader. Part of the Everything-verse but can be read alone. Birthday dinner + remote control vibrator fun. 557 words, mature.
Everything: J2 x Reader miniseries. Wildly depraved sex “pollen” (drugs, technically) threesome. ~18,300 words (not including the prequel/assorted ficlets). Explicit.
Quarantine-inspired smutty J2 standalones (set in the Everything ‘verse, but no prior plot knowledge needed):
Plans: ~500 words, sleepy morning teasing.
Sunset: ~1130 words, porch shenanigans at (you guessed it) sunset.
Snack: ~700 words, Jensen doing inappropriate things in the kitchen.
Fort: ~2150 words, the fluffiest comfort-fic plus blowjobs and weed.
Puppy: ~770 words, in which Jared gets restless and Jensen gets bossy.
Retroactive | By nyxocity | A J2 Story | NC-17 | Complete 430k
Two assassins on opposite sides of a silent American war, Jared is a time traveling spy working for the CIA; Jensen is a traitor terrorist known as the Jackal. Jared is the CIA's golden boy agent--until the Jackal gets in his way on a time-travel mission. The most skilled and dangerous agent to ever exist, the Jackal is the biggest obstacle in the way of the CIA's plans, and Jared is assigned to get close to him. But is the Jackal what he seems, or is there more to his mysterious past? Drawn down a deepening well of secrets and half-truths on a journey that will take him to the edges of his loyalties, Jared finds himself at the center of a time event bigger than anything he could have imagined. To complicate things even more, his fate seems to be tied to the Jackal by something more than the feelings stirring inside him--by something bigger than either of them; time itself. And time, is running out.
Tags: Established Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Happy Jared Padalecki, Cranky Jensen Ackles, Love, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Sleigh Ride, Top Jared Padalecki, Bottom Jensen Ackles, One Ridiculously Long Scarf, Soulmates, SPN Fanfic Pond Gift Exchange
Summary: Jared is trying his best to make Jensen happy. Jensen is cranky because his Cowboys lost... again. But Jared finds a way to put a smile on Jensen's face. And they have the happiest of nights as they embrace the spirit of the holidays.
~~~~~*****~~~~~*****~~~~~*****~~~~~
This was written as part of the SPN Fanfic Pond gift exchange for a dear friend of mine, @masoena. Just a little bit of holiday cheer from our favorite boys! Nothing but fun, joy, and love. I hope you enjoy!
Tags: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Actor Jared Padalecki, Protective Dean Winchester, Escort Chad Michael Murray, Comfort/Angst, Angst, Promises, Bottom Jared Padalecki, Top Endverse Dean Winchester, Chad Being Chad, Explicit Sexual Content, Dean Winchester Uses Actual Words, Sam Winchester Is Saved, Timeline Varies Slightly, Adjustments Were Made, Happy Ending, Soulmates, Redemption, Always Keep Fighting, SDCC 2015 References, AKF 10th Anniversary References, An Ode To All That Jared Has Done
Summary: Jared’s dream of becoming a Hollywood star was swirling around the drain. Desperate to not head back home, he listens to his best friend Chad, who wants him to become an escort. Just to pay the bills until they both hit it big. Jared’s first date is an older man with haunted green eyes, and a familiarity about him. But one who also goes out of his way to care for and protect Jared, even from himself.
Dean had fallen to his knees and cried out to the heavens for assistance. A mysterious woman had answered and sent him to a world where there were no demons, no angels, but also, no Sam and Dean. She had made him promise to do whatever was required, to protect a young man who was about to make a horrible mistake and risk his future. One where he would go on to help countless people, not by fighting the forces of evil, but with an inspirational message - to always keep fighting.
For those that know me, it's pretty obvious that I am a Sam girl. So, when @masoena started talking about this idea she had, to create a bang that celebrated, not only Sam, but Jared as well, I knew I needed to create something special. As often happens, my straightforward idea hit a few bumps, and then my Muse took over, and before I knew it, I had created a story that wove through Jared's life and all that he did to help so many, through the creation of Always Keep Fighting.
This is a story that skirts canon, and real life, but clearly deviates. Yet at its heart, it is nothing but love for the boys we all hold so dear.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005) RPF
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Chad Michael Murray
Additional Tags: Dating, Bars, Alcohol, First Dates, Accountant Jensen Ackles, Police Officer Jared Padalecki, Texting, Chad being Chad
Series: Part 2 of Tequila and 911
Summary:
Characters: Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Gabriel (Supernatural), Balthazar (Supernatural), Misha Collins, Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki
Additional Tags: Episode: s06e15 The French Mistake, Alternate Universe - The French Mistake, Community: deancasbigbang, Mildly Dubious Consent, (as seen in the episode - characters thinking their partners are someone else)
Language: English
Collections: DCBB 2011, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection
Published: 2015-07-08
Completed: 2015-07-08
Words: 60,115
Chapters: 14/14
Summary: Set in The French Mistake universe. To safeguard the angelic weapons he stole from Heaven, Balthazar has entrusted the keys to their hiding place to Sam and Dean and sent them into an alternative dimension. Unfortunately, Heavenly hitman Virgil followed them through and managed to swipe the keys during the ensuing confrontation. Now, the brothers need to find Virgil stat or their world is headed for a meltdown when he hands the keys over to Raphael who plans to use the weapons to re-start Armageddon. The problem is - how? Because if tracking down Virgil isn't hard enough they also have to keep up the pretence of being a couple of crappy TV stars, investigate the mysterious arrival of one Richard Speight Jr. and deal with a clingy Castiel-lookalike who can't seem to stop fawning over Dean.
A/N: Written for the DCBB 2011
Warning: Dubcon consent issues as seen in The French Mistake - characters sleeping with people they think are someone else, characters sleeping with people while pretending to be someone else. Etc.
Add words to your WIP and win wonderful prizes at the same time!!! 🎉
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The exact number of sprints and the length of each sprint will be decided by the host and participants. At the end of the sprints, whoever wrote the most words in one sprint will get a prize. Whoever wrote the most words in all of the sprints together will also get a prize. (Prizes will be chosen from the Pond Prize Pool.)
Where will this happen?
In the sprint channel in the Pond Discord server. (You must be a member to be in the Discord server. Not a member? Fill out this form here.) For anyone who hasn’t sprinted before, how it all works will be explained before we start.
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Send us an ASK, or ask your question in the Discord server (someone will get back to you later if no one is there when you ask), or send a private message to one of the admins!
HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE!
Have questions about this or anything else? Send us an ASK!
It's July, so that means that this month, we're celebrating fics based on the SPN actors and crew that we love!
When will this happen?
Next weekend, July 18th and 19th! We'll reblog all of the fics you send to us throughout the weekend!
How do I participate?
Send us links to your favorite fics that fit this month's theme! There are two ways you can do this:
Send us an ASK with the link here at the blog.
Drop a link in the #fishing-for-treasures channel in our Discord server!
Are there any limits to what I can submit?
Not at all! Submit as many fics by as many writers as you like! Submit your own fics! Submit your best friend's fics! Submit fics written by that writer you quietly stalk who intimidates you. Submit long fics! Submit short fics. Submit dead dove fics and fluffy fics and angsty fics and smutty fics! Submit fics on Tumblr and fics on AO3! Just send us the links!
What's the deadline to submit my links?
Friday night at midnight, Eastern US time. After midnight, we'll queue up all the links submitted, and we can all spend the weekend reading! (And don't forget to comment on the fics you read!)
I have more questions! How do I get answers?
Send us an ASK here on the blog, or tag an Admin or Manta Ray in the Discord server!
So, gather up all of the RPF fics that make you giddy and send them to us so we can give them all a signal boost!
10 things for those writing about people who are blind/have low vision...
So…finishing up my portfolio and I just thought I’d share a few things:
1. Person first language: people who are blind/ people who have low vision/ people who are visually impaired.
2. It’s a cane… not a stick
Side note: Please have your characters be safe travelers and use canes or guides some of the time, not just super powers all of the time. It’s hard enough for some young kids to use their canes without comparing themselves to Kanan Jarrus or Daredevil…
3.You don’t get super senses… but maybe you become more aware of what you’re sensing and differentiating what you’re sensing
4. As far as I’m aware and according to people I’ve talked to…touching faces is awkward and not effective
5. People who are congenitally blind may not turn to look at who’s talking because it is a learned skill that may need to be explicitly taught to them. However, people who become blind/lose their vision later in life may still turn to face who’s talking or face things that they are focusing on regardless of whether they can see it
6. Some people turn their heads at angles or appear to be looking away from you because they only have vision in that part of their eye that’s currently facing you. They can’t see you if they look straight on.
7. When you can see, you learn things whole-to-part. You, who are sighted, see a house, you think house. Then you learn door, window, roof, chimney, shutters etc. If you can’t see, you learn part-to-whole, and you need to rely on touch/hearing/smell/taste (when appropriate) to form a concept of something you might learn like this: door, smell of home, window glass, window frame, brick of a chimney, panels on side of the house etc. But then putting in all together as a house is difficult to conceptualize if you’re going off random pieces of the puzzle. You may need a tactile model or something to fill in the gaps if it’s something you’ve never seen and can’t touch in its entirety.
8. Cane stuff: Not everyone taps their cane when they use it. Most that I’ve been with don’t or if they do, they do not use it all the time. Think about it. You miss a lot of tactile feedback and there’s a greater risk of missing things to trip on. There are three types of formal cane techniques: two-point touch (the classic tapping side to side), constant contact, and verification technique. The first two the cane is held at the center of the body and the person moves it from side to side wide enough just so that it goes past their hips. As they move it to one side, their opposite foot steps forward. This gives someone the most protection when moving. Verification technique is when the person holds the cane low in their non-dominant hand and uses constant contact as they see possible obstacles/terrain changes in their path.
9. Counting steps is a myth. People don’t take even steps generally. Sometimes it’s easy to count doors if it’s a small number. But if you’re at school and you have to travel across the building, are you really going to count 20 doors? What if you bump into something and lose count? You’d have to start all over. Most people create landmarks for locations. It could be something like the door with the only bulletin board in the hallway. Or the door with the water fountain next to it. Or the door that is one door to the left directly across from the water fountain. Another thing here, is that you can kind of feel when you’re getting close to somewhere you’ve traveled to before. Like when you’re driving home and you feel like it’s been a while and your turn should be here, when suddenly the turn is here! That’s called time-distance estimation.
10. Most people are not totally blind. Only 2% of the population is visually impaired and only 2% of the population that is visually impaired is totally blind no light perception. This means that most people who are blind/visually impaired/have low vision can see something, and everyone is different and reacts different to their visual impairment and how they use the vision they have.
This got long and slightly ranty, which was an accident… but I hope someone finds it useful. And now that I have this off my chest, remember creative liberty is a thing :)
It's July, so that means that this month, we're celebrating fics based on the SPN actors and crew that we love!
When will this happen?
Next weekend, July 18th and 19th! We'll reblog all of the fics you send to us throughout the weekend!
How do I participate?
Send us links to your favorite fics that fit this month's theme! There are two ways you can do this:
Send us an ASK with the link here at the blog.
Drop a link in the #fishing-for-treasures channel in our Discord server!
Are there any limits to what I can submit?
Not at all! Submit as many fics by as many writers as you like! Submit your own fics! Submit your best friend's fics! Submit fics written by that writer you quietly stalk who intimidates you. Submit long fics! Submit short fics. Submit dead dove fics and fluffy fics and angsty fics and smutty fics! Submit fics on Tumblr and fics on AO3! Just send us the links!
What's the deadline to submit my links?
Friday night at midnight, Eastern US time. After midnight, we'll queue up all the links submitted, and we can all spend the weekend reading! (And don't forget to comment on the fics you read!)
I have more questions! How do I get answers?
Send us an ASK here on the blog, or tag an Admin or Manta Ray in the Discord server!
So, gather up all of the RPF fics that make you giddy and send them to us so we can give them all a signal boost!
