#tim rockford x you

[absurdthirst]

Evidence of a Date {Tim Rockford x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN(ish), snuff films, power of suggestion, hypnosis, compulsory need to fuck, rough sex, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral sex (male and female receiving)

Comments: Asked to assist Detective Rockford with finding evidence on a supposed snuff tape, you find it to be very different from what either one of you were expecting. Leading you to some surprising outcomes.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Tim Rockford MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

Getting called into the Captain’s office is never a good thing. No matter how clean you keep your nose or what rank you are, even as a Detective. “You wanted to see me, sir?” Knocking and opening the door, you are surprised to see Rockford sitting in a chair opposite the captain’s desk. 

“Come in, shut the door.” He waves you in and your stomach twists, wondering what the hell is going on. You’ve worked with Tim before, but not recently. You’ve been too busy with your own caseload. “I need you to do something for me.” Captain Carnell is a no bullshit man, a pragmatist who hated sitting behind a desk. “Tim’s got a video he needs to go through, evidence.” You frown slightly, unsure why that should have any impact on you. “It’s a snuff film, supposedly and the forensic team refuses to touch it.” He grumbles and you still don’t quite understand. 

Tim shuffles awkwardly. “I need to watch it. And I need another set of eyes.” Your head turns towards him. “You can keep your mouth shut, unlike 90% of the others around here.” It’s true, cops like to gossip and if it is a snuff film, the details need to be kept quiet while the investigation is ongoing. 

“I see. And that’s why you called me in?” You ask the captain. 

“Yes.” Carnell nods. “Tim asked if your cases could be transferred and you to help him on this, and I think it’s a good idea. That way there’s no talk of sexism if the case goes nowhere.” 

You nod. “Of course.” You agree, not sure if you’re dreading watching the video or spending all your time with Tim more. It’s hard working with someone that you are hopelessly attracted to and know that it’s unrequited. “I’ll move my cases over to Robertson and we can get on the case right away.”

Your captain nods, “excellent. After closing time, go to the break room. He’s secured the room so it will be just you two.” Tim nods, crossing his arms and you glance between the two men. “Go back to your paperwork. Half an hour…the office will be closed up after everyone heads out and you can get started.” 

You nod and Tim shuffles a little as he exits the office, holding the door open for you. “Thanks for helping with this. It’s - it could be the breakthrough we need and I know it’s gonna be hard to watch but I’m glad you’re helping me with it.” Tim says quietly as you stand in the hallway before you get to the bullpen.

“It’s okay.” You don’t know what to expect. Hopefully it’s not too gory, you have been to plenty of crime scenes, but you had hoped to go to a party tonight after work. Even if you stay late to work on the case, you could get there later. “We’ll watch the tape and then make any notes before we go back through it again.”

Tim nods, reaching out to squeeze your upper arm. He can’t help but think you look gorgeous today. Well, every day really but you’d never want him. He’s older. He’s divorced and has a ten year old son. He’s got baggage and you deserve the world. With a sigh, he makes his way back to his desk, eager to finish the work day to spend time with you. God, he’s pathetic. He’s desperate to spend time with you. Even if it means watching a snuff tape. The day seems to drag by and finally he sees his colleagues starting to pack up and he wipes his hands on his pants, glancing across the room to your desk.

Your cases have been passed off you and endured the grumbling, telling Robertson to talk to the captain if he had a problem with it. Finishing up some paperwork while you wait for everyone else to go home. “You leaving?” One of the other detectives comes by your desk on his way out. 

“No.” You shake your head and look down at your file. “Backlog of paperwork. Captain’s on my ass about it.” You know most of them have every intention of heading down to the bar for happy hour. “Drink a beer for me though, okay?”

Tim is asked the same thing except he got waggled eyebrows as most of them know about his crush on you…everyone except you apparently. He sighs and pushes back from his desk after everyone is gone. “You want a coffee before we get started? I’ve got…something to add if you want to take the edge off.” He says, pulling out a small flask as he looks at you.

“Detective Rockford.” You sound scandalized, but you grin as you pick up your coffee cup. “Absolutely.” You laugh as you start to walk towards the break room. “At least if we can’t go for happy hour, we can brace ourselves for what is to come.” You tell him, emptying out the sludge in the pot and setting it to make a fresh batch. Lord only knows how long you will end up staying. “So where did you get this tape from?”

Tim sits down and sets the flask down on the little coffee table in front of the sofa in the break room. He’s slept on the sofa before. Especially when he was trying to crack the case of the old woman who was murdered for her inheritance. It kept him up all night and he ended up sleeping in the office a few times while looking over the case. “I have an inside contact. He’s looking for immunity and he left me a copy of the tape. Some mafia bullshit…it’s heavy. Supposedly.” He tells you, watching you make the coffee.

“So don’t plan on wanting to eat, got it.” You frown, deciding it was a stupid idea to ask Tim if he wanted to go out to that little dinner down the road from your apartment anyway. You were work colleagues, not romantically linked. “As long as it’s not a kid, I’ll be fine.” You admit softly, looking up from where you are pouring sugar and creamer in your cup to get it ready for the coffee. “I hate when it’s kids. I can’t imagine how you feel, having your son.”

Tim shakes his head, rubbing his cheek. “That - any kid - it kills me. Wondering what I’d do…how id feel if someone - I think you’d be locking me up because I’d burn the fucking world if something happened to Billy.” Tim confesses and you come over to the sofa with your cup and a cup for him. “Thanks sweetheart.” He says, grabbing the remote. He doesn’t call you sweetheart in front of the other guys but you’ve always been close to his heart. “You ready?” He asks you, wanting to make sure you’re mentally prepared.

It’s almost embarrassing how much you enjoy when he calls you sweetheart, not taking offense to it at all. It’s almost like an endearment and you cherish it. “I’m ready.” You tell him after taking a deep breath, knowing you need to be professional.

He grabs the flask, pouring a generous amount of whiskey in each mug before he sets it down. “Just to take the edge off.” He says before he takes a sip and hits play on the tape. He’s tense beside you, waiting to see the gruesome scene unfold.

"I hope that we don't have to finish the flask and go find a bottle." You murmur as you immediately take a large sip of your doctored coffee. Enjoying the slight burn before a naked woman walks into the view of the camera. Obviously set up in some kind of bedroom. "Well, fuck." You hiss. "It's gonna be one of those snuff films."

Tim shifts awkwardly as the woman comes over to the camera, her tits swaying as she adjusts it before she steps back and a man appears behind her. “Yeah. I, uh, I wasn’t told that this was - yeah. Sorry.” He blushes slightly, knowing he’s secretly wondered what you look like naked more than enough times.

"It's okay." You take another sip of your coffee before you look over at Tim for a split second, eyes flying back to the tv. You watch as the man starts to massage the woman's tits. "It's not like I've never watched porn before." You tell him, wanting him to relax slightly. "Caucasian female, approximately mid to late twenties, brown hair, Caucasian male, mid forties, short blond hair." You observe. "It looks like there is a tattoo on his left bicep."

Tim had completely forgotten to take any notes, his mind shamefully thinking about you naked and him behind you palming your tits. He leans forward, clasping his hands together to force himself to pay attention. He watches the couple fondle each other and he feels guilty that you’re having to watch this. “I- I’m not sure if he’s the one that gets killed.” Tim says, paying attention as the man’s hand slides down to rub the clit of the woman.

"Most snuff films, it's the woman who's murdered." You huff quietly, biting your lip and frowning slightly when the screen flashes for a split second. "I-" you shake your head, afraid you might have just imagined it. The woman's moan hadn't stopped so you just continue to watch. Your cunt bottoms out when the man slaps her pussy and then starts to rub again, his other hand still toying with her right nipple. "He's left-handed?" You ask, not quite sure but it's a strong theory. "Most often men finger a woman with their dominant hand."

“This is supposed to be the tape of the victim.” Tim says, trying to work through the evidence despite his cock twitching, suddenly aroused and he puts that down to being close to you.

You hum and lean in, trying to pretend the foreplay in the video isn't erotic, or you aren't getting turned on. It's natural, that's what you are trying to convince yourself of. That your panties would be soaked already if you were just watching a normal porn, alone in your room where you could pretend your hand was Tim's. Clearing your throat, you swear you see the screen flash again, but the audio doesn't stop.

Tim swears he saw something flash on the screen but he doesn’t bother telling you. He is trying to conceal his rapidly hardening cock. Sweat starts to bead on his forehead and he wipes it with the back of his hand. “I - this isn’t a normal snuff tape.” He murmurs, confused as the man pushes his fingers into the woman, her moan echoing in the break room as the image flashes on screen again and he pays attention. “You see that?” He asks, curious if you’ve seen it.

You gasp, but you don't know if it's from the fact that Tim might have seen the same flashes you have, or from how warm you are getting. How your entire body seems to be lighting up, aching for someone, Tim, to touch you. "I- yes?" You almost ask as you try to keep from moaning quietly.

“What - What does it say?” He asks, wondering if you’ve seen it better than he did and he tugs on his tie, loosening it and undoing the top button. Suddenly overheated, he shifts his feet and his fingers flex as he smothers down the urge to touch you.

“I don’t know. It’s- it’s flashing too fast to read.” You know you should probably stop the tape and go back, but you can’t. “Is it- fuck, it’s hot in here, right?” You ask him, biting your lip when the woman cums on the tape, moaning softly as you wonder if Tim would finger you before he fucks you or if he would just shove his cock into your needy pussy.

“Yeah. It is.” Tim murmurs, suddenly boiling hot and he unbuttons a couple more buttons on his shirt, his tie pulled over his head to fling it down on the sofa. The man grabs the woman, dragging her to the bed and he wastes no time pushing into her, her moan echoing in the room and the screen flashes again. This time slower. The word ‘Fuck’ flashes again, and again. Tim is rock hard now, unable to tear his eyes away from the tv.

“It’s saying ‘Fuck’.” You breathe out, unsure why someone would cut that word into a snuff film. “Right?” Your cunt is throbbing and you squirm as you watch the couple fuck on the screen. You bite your lip, trying to keep your breathing regulated and you want to touch yourself, or have Tim touch you.

“Ye-yeah. That’s what I- shit. It’s so hot.” He says, unbuttoning another couple of buttons and he undoes the wrist buttons, rolling his sleeves up. ‘Fuck’ flashes up on the screen again and Tim grunts, unable to resist palming his cock through his pants. “So-sorry. I- shit. I’m so hard it hurts.” He confesses, “you should - you should go.” He says, trying to get you away from him before he breaks.

You snort, pressing your thighs together. “Of course you are. We are watching two attractive people have sex.” You reason. “And it’s been a long goddamn time since a man made me cum.

Tim frowns, turning his head for a second to look at you before he focuses on the screen again. “It has? How? You’re - Jesus. You’re gorgeous. I always thought you had a secret boyfriend or something and just didn’t tell us.” He admits as the man fucks the woman harder and the screen flashes again. ‘Fuck’ Flashes and almost burns in his retinas as he sees it when he blinks.

You squirm again, wanting to shove your hand into your panties and rub your clit. “No time to date.” You groan. “You know how it is. Long hours. Turbulent cases. I just- have a vibrator.” You hiss when the screen flashes again. “Fuck! Why does it keep telling me to fuck?” You cry.

Tim bites his lip, his gaze flicking between you and the screen. The man flips the woman over to push back inside of her, making her cry out. ‘Fuck’ flashes again and Tim shakes his head, “I don’t - shit - I can’t - I need to-” He surges forward to cup your cheeks, pressing his lips to yours as ‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.’ repeats in his mind over and over again until he no longer controls himself.

It’s such a fucking relief to feel his lips against yours that you let out a small sob. Pulling him closer and pressing your entire body against his as ‘Fuck’ flashes in your mind again and again. Driven by some unseen force that is practically compelling you to touch the other detective. The need for him clawing under your skin like a drug.

His hands slide down to grab your waist, dragging you not his lap as his tongue slides into your mouth. The moans continue on the tv and the word ‘Fuck’ continues flashing in his mind. “Fuck.” He rasps out. “I- I can’t stop. Tell me to stop.” He managed to choke out despite grabbing your hips to drag you down on top of him.

“Don’t stop.” You gasp out, rolling your hips down shamelessly to grind against his hard cock. You don’t know why you need him inside you, but you desperately do. “Touch me, Tim.” You beg breathlessly. “Please baby.”

He can’t deny you. He helps you grind down on his cock, his hands sliding up to squeeze your tits through your blouse. “I - shit - I need to - to be inside of you.” He tells you, reaching down to work on unbuttoning your pants and he pushes his hand inside to find you wet and ready for him.

"Fuck." You whimper at the first touch of his thick fingers against your clit. "Yes, need- fuck, I need your cock." You groan out, reaching down around his own hand in your pants to squeeze his cock through his. "Now Tim." You insist.

Tim groans when you squeeze him and he slides his fingers between your folds, groaning at how wet you are. “Fuck. I- stand up. Take your pants off.” He demands, working on his belt buckle and his cock is aching, he’s in pain. The word ‘Fuck’ keeps flashing on the screen as the moans continue to pour out of the tv speakers.

Scrambling to your feet, you nearly fall over in your haste to strip down. Pushing down your pants and kicking them off with your panties, your knees shake in need and you are panting like you've just finished a marathon. "Oh fuck." you turn back around and find Tim with his cock in his hand, pumping it furiously. "Oh shit, let me- I need-" You dive back onto his lap, eager to sink down on his thick, uncut cock.

He grabs your ass as you reach between you to grip his cock and he groans when you start to sink down onto him. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck” starts to echo on the tv but Tim isn’t paying attention, to obsessed with the way you are sinking onto his cock. You’re so wet and tight and he loses his ability to breathe as you settle into his cock.

The slightly intense, grim detective looks amazing as he moans for you. Feeling his cock scrub against your walls in the best way as he breaks you open. Making your mouth drop open and a loud moan of his name, your arms wrapped around his neck to keep you upright.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiittt.” He hisses in delight, groaning your name as you start to rock on top of him and his hands slide up to work on the buttons of your shirt, wanting to feel every inch of you. The buttons become tiresome so he just rips your blouse, sending buttons flying across the room and he groans when he finally gets access to your tits, pulling them out of your bra so he can duck down and take a nipple into his mouth.

“Oh fuck!” You cry out when his mouth attacks your breasts. Never imagining he would be such a dominant lover. Tearing your shirt off has you clenching down around him and squeezing him tight in your walls. “More.” You beg, tangling your fingers into his hair and tugging on it, pressing him into your breast. “More, baby, fuck.”

He bites down, sucking on your tits, alternating as he groans into your flesh and you whimper, making his cock twitch inside of you. ‘Fuck. Fuck. Fuck’ continues on the screen, the moans stopping from the couple as yours replace them, the words on the screen flashing constantly and Tim hisses as he grabs your ass, lifting you up to place you on the sofa so he can fuck into you.

“Oh fuck.” You whine when his cock slips out of you but the second he is driving back into you, your scream rings out. Scratching your nails down his shirt, you wish he was undressed. At least so you could feel his skin under your fingers.

He grunts, leaning down to kiss along your neck. “Imagined this so many fucking times.” He admits shamelessly, “imagined fucking you on my desk. In my bed. In here. In the captain's office. Imagined you a fuck ton. Shit. So tight. Knew you would be.” He rambles, his thrusts deep and slightly frantic as the mantra continues around you.

You moan, unable to believe that he would imagine fucking you. You have never thought he noticed you beyond working together. “Imagined how good you’d feel. How thick you would be.” You confess as he punches deep inside you. “Better that I could have imagined.”

Tim groans, spurred on by your words and the repeated mantra urging him on and he hisses your name as he pushes deep. “Wanna - wanna feel you cum.” He says, reaching down to rub your clit.

You shudder, clenching down around him and digging your nails into his shoulder as you lunge up to bite his chin. “Yes, fuck, fuck me harder.” You beg, driven by this invisible force.

He clenches his jaw, pushing deeper, harder, faster. Sweat beads on his forehead as he kneels on the sofa, lifting your thigh over his hip to get even deeper inside of you, his fingers rubbing your clit.

“Tim, oh fuck, oh fuck.” You choke out, feeling that familiar polling in the pit of your stomach. Except it’s better than using your toy at home. The nerves screaming in pleasure and you kiss every inch of skin you can reach.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck” repeats over and over and Tim hisses as he rocks into you, trying to get you to cum. It’s like he needs you to cum like he needs to breathe. “That’s it. Shit. Gettin’ so wet on my cock. Cum for me. Cum for me.” He begs, his cock twitching as he gets closer to his own orgasm.

The harsh, jarring thrusts are everything you need and more. Pushing you closer every time his hips snap forward and if there was ever a question of Tim Rockford’s ability in bed, this answered it. “Gonna baby.” You squeal, not making any sense, but it doesn’t matter. Your orgasm crashes through you and all you can do is cry out wordlessly.

“Yesss. That’s it. Good girl.” Tim hisses as you clamp down around him and he swears he could fuck you all night long just to hear you cry out his name like that. He rocks you through it, his jaw clenching and he releases a deep groan as he buries his cock deep and cums inside of you, painting your walls.

You whine, loving the feeling of his hot cum filling you up. Panting as you try to catch your breath when he drops his head on your shoulder. “Fuck.”

“Fuck.” He echoes, his cock still hard inside of you. The mantra is still playing on the tv and it’s wiggled into Tim’s head, making him ache for more. “I need - wanna fuck you from behind.”

You are surprised that he can keep going, but you can’t deny that your body still aches for more. “Yessss.” You hiss, clenching down around him and biting your lip. “Fuck me again. Never stop fucking me.”

Tim groans, pulling out of you and his dark eyes focus on the cum dripping out of you and he watches you shift onto your knees. His fingers wrap around his cock as you position yourself until he’s notching himself at your entrance and pushes into you with a groan.

“Fuck!” You cry out, enjoying the sharp ping of pain when he pushes deep and his cock hits the back of your cervix from this angle. “Jesus how are you single with a dick like that?” You moan.

“The job.” He chuckles, grabbing your hips and he starts to push deep, setting another harsh pace. “Divorced. Father of one. Not exactly - exactly Prince Charming.” He says breathlessly as his cock hits hard against your cervix.

“Fuuuuuuck.” You whine, dropping your head down onto the back of the sofa and rocking your hips back. “Don’t- fuck, don’t stop.” You beg him, barely getting the words out as he slams into you over and over again.

“I can’t.” He says truthfully and he slams into you, over and over. Desperate to hear and feel you cum for him again. “Can’t fucking stop. You’re - shit - this pussy is - fuck. Never wanna pull out.”

Moaning softly, all you can do is clench around him while you take his cock over and over again. Feeling like he's in your guts every time he snaps his hips forward and you want him even deeper. "Don't." you pant over your shoulder. "Just fuck me forever."

Tim nods, sweat glistening on his forehead and neck as he pushes into you over and over again. “I will, baby. Oh I fucking will.” He promises and groans when you clench around him. The tv keeps flashing and he hears ‘Fuck’ in the back of his mind over and over. “Jesus Christ. Never wanna stop.”

Your eyes slip closed. 'Fuck' flashing in your mind over and over again. Like you are possessed by this need to fuck. You moan his name and push your hips back. Needing more. Needing him deeper inside you. It doesn't matter that you've always dreamed of having sex with him, you need more of it. You whine, biting your lip so hard that you almost feel your teeth break the skin. Humming in agreement as you push back more forcefully. Letting his hips slam against your ass hard enough to rock you forward and press your chest against the back of the sofa.

“Good girl. That’s it. Yes. Yes.” Tim grunts, loving how you are pushing back against him. “Keep going. Keep - fuck - need you to cum again.” He pleads, leaning over your body to kiss along your neck, his hand cupping your tit to squeeze and pinch the nipple.

Gasping at the pain, you reach down. Frantically rubbing your clit as he hammers into you from behind. Striking that perfect spot deep inside you. "Gonna cum!" you squeal seconds before you clench down around him.

“That’s it, baby. Cum. Cum. Shit - need you to-” He chokes when you clamp down on his cock and he groans when you soak him, his cock nearly trapped inside of you but he manages to move to work you through it and he’s so close. “Shit. Baby. I- I’m gonna - I gotta - fuuuuuuckkkk.” He growls as he cums for the second time, painting your walls.

Whimpering Tim's name, you relax into the sofa, feeling him coating the inside of your cunt in his seed. Closing your eyes and sighing at the feeling, a small smile on your face. "So good. Feels so good." You moan quietly.

Tim exhales shakily, turning his head to see the screen has gone gray and he pants, leaning in to kiss your neck before he slowly pulls out of you, his cock finally going soft. “Shit.” He hisses and shifts to sit down on the sofa.

You turn slightly, grabbing your ruined shirt to sit down so you don’t leak cum all over the sofa. Other officers use it too. “God.” You pant, flopping back and trying to catch your breath. “That was- holy shit.”

Tim’s chest heaves, the mantra finally leaving his mind and he leans against the sofa after tucking himself away. “I guess…I guess it’s not, uh, it’s not a snuff tape.” He chuckles breathlessly.

"No." You frown slightly, wondering why it was said to be a snuff film when you think you saw both people in the film, alive and exhausted. "I- it was so strange. I kept seeing the word 'Fuck' flash on the screen between the scenes. Did you?"

“Yeah. It’s like - it’s like it burned into my retinas and all I could think of was fucking you and Jesus…I - did you want me to - or have I just-?” He can’t even sound out his thoughts, too horrified at the thought of it being what it could be. 

"No!" Your eyes widen and you quickly shake your head. "I wanted you to." You promise, rushing to reassure him that it was something you had been very enthusiastic to experience. "I needed you too. It was like I had to have you or I was going to go crazy." You admit. "I thought I was pretty good at hiding my feelings."

The detective’s head swivels over to look at you. “You mean you- this wasn’t just the crazy hypnosis snuff video? You - Christ above, sweetheart. You have any fucking idea how many times I’ve thought about touching you…about being inside you…about loving you.” He adds softer than his prior exclamation.

You bite your lip, trying and failing not to grin at his confession. It seems like what could have been something troubling has turned out pretty fucking good. "So, I guess it was a good thing that you watched this with me rather than Robertson." You joke softly.

Tim’s eyes go wide as he turns to look at you, “thank the fucking Lord.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “That video…I don’t know what the fuck that was but we, uh, we gotta report it because this - it might not be so consensual for the next ones that get it and it could be dangerous.” He says, trying to focus on his job again instead of the way your lips look utterly kissable again.

"Who gave you this tape again?" You ask with a frown. "Why would they tell you it's a snuff film when it's.....obviously not?" It is concerning that it was given to a detective, and you wonder if it was meant to cause havoc in the department. Or the crime lab. "Normally this would be examined by the crime lab......not us."

“Yeah. The, uh, you know Greg? He gave it to me. Told me the crime lab didn’t have a working VHS so I’d have to watch it if I wanted to get the evidence from it.” He says and frowns, “he - he kinda knew I had a thing for you. Might’ve mentioned it when he noticed how pissed I’d get when the others talked about you behind your back.”

"Others talk about me?" You frown slightly, although you know shit talking is a part of being a cop. Especially a female detective in a male dominated field. "And Greg told you to watch this...with me?"

“They - they talk about your body. Your ass…what they wanna do to you. I- I try to shut them down. Say it’s disrespectful and yeah…he told me to get the captain to have you assigned to the case and I thought it was just to have your brains on the case…not - not this.” He gestures to the tv.

"Do you think Greg knew what was on the tape?" You ask quietly. reaching out and taking his hand and squeezing it gently for his kindness. For sticking up for you.

Tim looks down at your hands and shakes his head, “I don’t know babe. I- shit. I’m so sorry I put you in this situation. We gotta try and trace this tape back. We can’t let this shit get out.” He says, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb.

"I know." You nod as you look over at where the tv is still displaying a gray screen. "Maybe we need to take the video out of the station." You hum. "You know how nosy all these assholes are."

Tim nods, “I can take it home. Hide it.” He says, squeezing your hand again. “And I- I wouldn’t mind going to dinner with you sometime.” He adds, staring at the gray screen as he anxiously awaits your answer.

"I don't think we are going to get much work done tonight." You admit. "And I don't know about you, but I'm starving." You shrug. "I would say let's go to that dinner around the corner, but you ripped my shirt, so how about I make you dinner at my place?"

Tim nods, “how about I meet you at your place and I can pick up some Chinese food. Save you cooking.” He adds, “and then maybe we can talk about what happened when we are clear headed.”

"That sounds good." You agree, standing up and picking up your panties and pants after you tuck your boobs back into your bra. You wonder if he will blow you off, or if he wants to actually meet you at your place.

He knows your order from late nights in the station with everyone. He stands up, adjusting his shirt and he grabs his tie, shoving it into his pocket. “Sorry about your shirt. You, uh, want to use my jacket?” He offers, knowing you’ll want your decency when you leave.

"I've got an extra shirt in my desk drawer." You tell him with a grin. "For those all nighters." You know he understands that. Most detectives keep a complete change of clothes in a drawer just in case. "But help me hunt down the buttons?"

Tim nods, kneeling down and he blushes when he sees how far the buttons went. “I was - Jesus. That video made me feral.” He admits and picks up a few buttons. He hands them to you and when you stand there, he gently reaches up to cup your cheek, his eyes meeting yours as he leans in to kiss you softly.

You've kissed, but it had been frantic and needy. This is so much more gentle. A real kiss that is not because of that video. "I- thank you." You murmur quietly.

“You deserved better than that for our first time.” He murmurs as he pulls back, “I’ll make it up to you.” He promises as he looks at you. “Lemme grab your shirt from your desk just in case.”

“I don’t know.” You admit as you pull your pants back on. “I think multiple orgasms and being fucked within an inch of my life was a great first time.” You laugh. “Although I’m a little disappointed I didn’t get to suck your cock.”

Tim smirks, feeling confident now that you want him again and enjoyed earlier. “Don’t you worry baby. Maybe later…we can explore each other a little more.” He smirks and you giggle. “Let’s get out of here.” He says, walking over to the TV to eject the tape.

“That’s an amazingly suggestive tape.” You hum as you watch him analyze the tape like it might tell him its secrets. “Let’s go, Rockford.” You order with a smirk. “I’m starving and the captain authorized overtime, but I’d rather have our next viewing of the tape be in my bed.”

Tim’s eyes widen, “you wanna - I’d rather have you without watching the tape.” He tells you and you smirk, nodding, “that’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” He grins and follows you into the bullpen so you can collect your things. “You wanna come in my car or I can follow you?”

You smirk and shrug. "I might as well take my car." You tell him, "since I think that we won't be back in the office until next week." You wink at him. "Might cause some rumors if I leave it here."

Tim nods, willing to follow your lead and he grabs his things as you put the shirt on. “Come on, babe.” He says once you’re ready and he guides you out of the station to your car, glancing around to check out the surroundings like he always does.

You smile at the way that his hand rests on your hip. Protective and possessive. Waiting until you unlock the door to hold it open for you. "I'll meet you at my place?" You ask, glancing over at him. "You remember how to get there?"

He knows where you live, having dropped you off during late night stakeouts and ops. He waits until you’re in your car with the door locked before he makes his way over to his vehicle, quick to leave the parking lot and follow you to your house.

It's a bit nerve wracking, knowing Tim is following you. Excited in a way that you don't understand, you keep watching his car in your rearview mirror.

He grips the steering wheel, a little nervous actually to be going to your place if you are regretting sleeping with him. He calls up the Chinese restaurant to place your orders and he makes his way there. After picking up the food, he makes his way to your place and rings the doorbell with the food in hand.

In the spare time you had while Tim got the food, you had jumped into a quick shower. Bare feet and comfortable clothes are what greets him when he knocks on the door and you open it with a smile. "Hi." You greet him, waving him in. "Do you want a beer? Something stronger?"

Tim chuckles, “tempted to have something stronger but a beer will do. I don’t wanna be on anything around you. Especially after that fucking tape.” The tape is currently hidden in his glove box. “I wanna be sober around you.”

You nod in agreement and lean in to press your lips to his. "A beer it is." You hum, closing the door behind him and leading him into the kitchen. "I'll get the beers and some plates."

Tim checks your door is locked before he follows you into the kitchen, setting the bag of food down on your counter. “I haven’t been in here since you hosted that party after Samson closed that cold case.”

“Yeah, that’s been awhile.” You open the fridge and grab two beers to open before you turn back to him. “That  was right after you and your wife divorced.” You wince slightly. “I’m sorry about that. I know it was rough. I hated that you were under a lot of stress during that time.” 

Tom shakes his head as he takes the beer from your hand. “It was over a long time ago. We - we stayed together for our son and - shit. She really gave me hell.” He confesses, “anyway. I, uh, I guess I never really asked about your dating life. Never wanted to know if you had a boyfriend that I could be jealous of.

“No dating life, not when I wanted someone at work.” You confess. 

Tim's eyes widen as he absorbs your words before he chuckles, "you mean you were lusting after Jackson?" He teases, knowing the nearly retired old man is not the one you wanted. "I, uh, seriously though...I didn't know. I was a little busy eying you up without being a creepy asshole." He admits, licking his lips.

“You shouldn’t have worried about being creepy.” You smile softly. Despite the fact that you had been junior to him. It’s one of the reasons you respect him, he wouldn’t abuse his authority. Now both of you are equals, so there is no worry about improprieties. “Although now you can eye me up however you want.”

"Well that's good to know." His eyes slowly trail along your body, enjoying the fact that he can unashamedly admire you. "You're so fucking pretty, baby." He says after a moment, his fingers flexing around the beer bottle.

“Do you want to eat and talk, talk or just eat?” You ask, not sure what he wants to do. Despite the fucking that had happened at the station, you still want to touch him, but you know you can’t just act like a horny teenager.

"Let's talk and eat. You need to eat after how I - you know." He clears his throat and blushes a little. "I kinda - I kinda wanna touch you again but only if you want." He adds, suddenly nervous.

“I want to touch you too.” It’s endearing that he had fucked you so hard earlier and now he’s blushing. “If you want, of course.” You smirk slightly as you turn back to the cabinets to get the plates and silverware.

Tim’s eyes drop down to your ass as you get the plates. “Of course I want to.” He scoffs like you asked him a ridiculous question. “Baby, let’s sit down and eat. You need food after I - well, I’m starving.” He admits, taking out the containers after opening the bag.

You hum, dipping out some of the food onto plates and take them over to the small table while Tim carries the beers. “We do need to refill the tanks, so to speak.” You laugh. “I have to admit, I was shocked when you kept fucking me.”

“So was I!” Tim exclaims with wide eyes. “I ain’t eighteen anymore and I- shit - that kind of stamina…not my normal gig I gotta be honest. Usually I cum once and that’s it. I need a nap and a snack before I’m ready to go again.”

“A nap and a snack, huh?” You giggle at that, finding him too cute and you lean over to press a kiss to his lips. “I’m normally a ‘once and I’m good’ kind of girl too. But tonight?” You point to his sweet and sour chicken. “Eat your snack baby.”

He grins, liking the way you think and he must admit he’s eager to have you again. He grabs a plate to start serving up his food and he grabs his beer and follows you into the living room after you’ve grabbed your own plate. “You wanna watch something on RV?” You ask and Tim bites his lip, “maybe not the best considering the last thing we watched.”

You snort and nod, biting your lip as the two of you sit down. “So, where do you see this going?” You ask quietly. “Something serious? Causal? I wouldn’t blame you after the divorce.”

Tim sets his plate down on your coffee table, "honestly? I kinda want to date you. I want to take you out for dinner and see where this goes." He admits, "unless you want casual but...I'm not really a casual kind of guy."

“I don’t really like casual either.” You admit, turning towards him after setting your own plate down. “I would have put up with it for you.”

He's taken back at your confession and he smiles, "guess we both suck at casual. I was thinking about asking you out, you know? I just didn't want to be that creepy older guy that asks you on a date and makes it awkward at work when you said no."

“I would have said yes.” You promise, leaning in and touching his hand. “Tonight just….sped up the timeline.” You joke. “And will give us one hell of a first date story.”

Snorting, he nods as he takes a bite of orange chicken as he squeezes your hand with his free one. “Yeah. Maybe we can edit it a little bit.” He teases, “and hopefully you include the detail of me having a big cock.” He jokes, winking at you.

You giggle and your cunt clenches. “Don’t worry. That fact will be repeated with the high praise on how well you use that cock.” You promise. “Don’t think I’ve ever been fucked so well.”

Tim can’t help but grin with pride at your statement and he swears he will make you feel that way if you let him touch you again. “Sounds good to me, sweetheart.”

Both of you finish your meal, chatting about different things, different cases you had been working on. Setting your plate down with a content sigh, you drain the last drops of your beer and look over at Tim. “So, do you want to go back to my bedroom? We could take a nap, or….”

He watches you for a moment, “bedroom…I wanna touch you in a bed. I wanna have my mind be my own when I touch you next.” He says, reaching for your hand to pull you closer so he can lean in and press his lips to yours.

You can agree with that. As much as you needed him back at the station, you want to be in control. This time, your arms go around his neck because you want to keep the kiss going, slowly feeling his mouth out as it starts to deepen.

His tongue slides against yours and he groans into your mouth, loving how you feel as your fingers tangle in his hair. “Fuck.” He grunts into your mouth when you’re a little rougher but he loves it.

You love how his embrace is solid. The steady weight of him beside you makes you shift to straddle him. Settling back into his lap and pressing close, there’s not the urgency of before, but you are learning each other

His hands trail along your body, enjoying how you feel pressed against him, and the kisses are slow, passionate and he loves it. His hands slide down to squeeze your ass and he can’t resist slapping your cheeks before he grabs them again.

“Tim!” You gasp into his mouth and laugh, enjoying the smug smirk on his handsome face. Reaching up, you tangle your fingers back into his hair as you continue to make out. You know how he feels inside, but this is almost more intimate.

He kisses along your jaw, down your neck and bites gently over your pulse. “You’re so Goddamn beautiful. Inside and out. Why you want me, I’ll never know.” He confesses, knowing he’s fucked up but he’s gonna take this opportunity to be with you by the fucking horns and ride it as long as you want him.

“Because you are a good man.” You’ve seen plenty of men who pretend to be good but they are rotten at their core. Tim Rockford is honest, noble. “I want to take you to bed,” you confess softly. “Can you go again, or should we just cuddle?”

Tim nods, "I can go again." He is surprisingly half hard and he rocks up to grind against you, showing you he can be ready. "Let's go to your bedroom." He says, smacking your ass again and you stand up. He stands up after you and takes your outstretched hand as you guide him to your room.

In your bedroom, that’s where your personality shines. The bright, beautiful colors of your bedding and the natural light. The bookshelves are loaded down with novels and the slightly messy open closet door. “Sorry.” You move to close the door. “Didn’t think I would have company today when I left.”

Tim snorts, "this is nothing. You should see my place. It's chaos. My boy leaves his fucking legos on the floor and guess who steps on them in the middle of the night?" Tim asks you, eyebrows raised.

You giggle, imagining him cursing and stumbling over the blocks in the dark. “Ouch.” You wince sympathetically. “I know that hurts.”

"It does." He tells you with wide eyes, glancing around your room before he exhales softly and steps closer to you. He reaches up to cup your cheek, "I really do think you're beautiful." He murmurs, his dark eyes burning into yours. "Can I eat you out?" He asks, curious if you'll be happy for him to do that.

It’s your turn to be surprised by the request. “I- yes.” You sputter. “It’s- are you sure? You want to do that? I mean, I’m not complaining, but we- you came inside me.”

Tim snorts, “I put it there. I’m sure I can clean up my mess.” He says and smirks at you, reaching for the hem of your shirt. “Let’s get naked. I wanna see all of you. Wanna taste every inch of you. Take my time.”

“It’ll be nice seeing you this time.” You admit with a grin, letting him pull your shirt over your head and reaching for the buttons of his collared shirt. “Never had a boyfriend who would go down on me after sex.” You admit with a giggle.

Tim lets you push his shirt off of his shoulders and he’s a little self conscious. He’s not toned. He’s strong but he’s not abs and no body fat. He likes his food and he doesn’t tend to have a lot of time to exercise. He flusters slightly when you run your fingers down his chest.

“Sexy,” you coo softly, wanting to touch and kiss every inch of him. You knew that you were attracted to Tim, but your cunt is dripping at the sight of his chest and he hasn’t even removed his pants yet. “So fucking sexy.”

“You are.” He hums with a smirk and he reaches for your bra, unclasping it to pull it down your arms before he flings it across the room. “Baby. Fuck. You’re so sexy.” He murmurs and reaches up to cup your tits, squeezing them. “Great tits.”

You laugh, amused at the awe-filled look on his face as he palms your tits. As if he can't believe that he is touching them. "You've got a great cock." You hum, reaching down and cupping him. "Feels good. I want to see how it feels in my mouth instead of my pussy."

Tim groans at your filthy words. "Shit baby. You - you are fucking incredible." He compliments you as he gropes your tits. "Wanna - wanna make you cum. How do you wanna cum?" He asks, curious and eager.

You whine, eyes closing at the feeling of his hands on your body and the promise in his words. Anything you want is yours it seems. “I want you to eat me out.” You admit breathlessly. If his head game is good, this man is the complete package.

"Fuck. Take your pants off." He demands, his cock aching in his pants and he decides to push them down after unbuckling his belt. His boxers soon follow after he kicks off his shoes while you strip down to nothing. "Shit. So fucking gorgeous. Lay down." He demands again, the edge in his voice is raspy but commanding.

You shiver, laying down and wondering why it’s so sexy that he is taking control. You watch him, greedy as your eyes roam over his nude body. “Come here.” You beg, wanting him to touch you.

He shifts to kneel on the bed, his hands trailing along your thighs until he's pushing your legs open so he can take in the sight of your cunt. "Fuck, I-" He can't say another word as he surges forward to bury his face in your cum slick folds.

Crying out, your hands tangle in his hair. Closing your eyes, you enjoy how eagerly his tongue flicks over your clit. It’s magical, breath stealing as he devours you. Making you so glad that you had invited him home.

He groans into your flesh, loving how you taste, and he hisses when you tug on his hair in a way that makes his cock twitch against your sheets. His fingers dig into your thighs as he keeps you spread open so he can devour you.

Tim isn’t proper when he is eating you out. He’s messy, ravenous. The sexy little grunts and sighs as he takes you apart with every flick of his tongue has you moaning his name, rolling your hips down to meet his eager tongue.

"Fuck. You taste-" He groans as he pulls back for a second before he surges forward to bury his face in your folds again. He loves the tangy taste of your arousal and the salt of his cum. He doesn't give a shit about tasting his own essence on your flesh and he laps at your clit.

“Tim, oh fuck, baby.” You moan, rolling your hips again and whimpering his name once more when he tightens his grip on you.

He shifts, letting go of your flesh so he can push two thick digits inside of you. Calloused from holding a pen all the damn time and he curls them before he resumes sucking on your clit like a candy.

“Shit.” You hiss, shuddering and your breath catching at the curl of his fingers deep inside of you. Pressing perfectly against that magical place that makes you squeal out his name when he presses again.

He groans your name, “that’s it baby. That’s it.” He mumbles into your cunt when your walls flutter around his fingers, pressing against that spot over and over again. “Cum for me.” He demands before he resumes sucking your clit.

It doesn’t take you long. Only a few more minutes before he is pulling you apart. Your nerves fraying and your entire body bursting with pleasure when you start to come apart. Crying out his name and flooding his mouth with your cum.

Tim eagerly laps up every drop. He pumps his fingers into you, loving how you moan and writhe under his mouth. He caresses your thigh as he works you through it until he feels you relax, practically melt into your mattress.

You whimper, letting go of his hair and trying to drag him up to you for a kiss. Desperate to give him the same kind of pleasure that he had just given you.

His lips meet yours and he slowly withdraws his fingers, enjoying the way you slide your tongue against his and his wet digits grip your thigh. “Wanna be inside of you again.” He murmurs between kisses he presses to your jaw, needing to hear you say you want him again.

“You don’t want me to suck your cock?” You ask breathlessly. You’ve imagined it so many times but if he would rather fuck you, you are all for it. “I will always want you inside me.”

Tim bites his lip as you lay under him. “I kinda want you to suck my cock. Then I want to fuck you.” He decides and you giggle, pushing on his chest. He obediently shifts to lay down, his hard cock resting on his stomach and you move onto your knees.

“Fuck.” You whimper, wrapping your fingers around his cock and giving him a slow squeeze. “Imagined myself on my knees for you so many times.” You admit. “Even wondered if I could fit under your desk.” That makes you giggle again, imagine having his cock down your throat while he types up a report. “Now I get to taste you.” Lowering your head, you wrap your lips around the tip of his cock, tongue pressing against the bead of pre-cum.

“Oh fuck.” Tim hisses when you take him into your mouth, your lips wrapping around the head of his cock. “Baby. You look so pretty like this.” He murmurs, unable to close his eyes, wanting to see every second of this and burn it into his memory.

You preen under his praise, taking him deeper and wanting to give him the best blowjob he’s ever had in his entire fucking life. Holding onto his hip while you take him down to the back of your throat and swallowing around him.

“Jesus.” Tim hisses as you swallow around him, your jaw almost unhinged as you take him deeper and your eyes are watering. “Fuck, sweetheart. Look so good.” He murmurs, reaching down to caress your cheek, enjoying the feel of his cock pressing against your cheek.

You hum, letting it vibrate through him with a grin. Enjoying the feeling of his hand on your cheek while you concentrate on not choking. You want to take him deeper, to wrap your lips around the base and you slide your fingers out from around the base to hold onto his hips.

“Oh oh oh shittt.” He hisses before he pants, his cock twitching down your throat as your nose brushes the coarse hair at the base of his cock. “Baby. Baby. Shit. You gotta - I can’t - it’s too much.” He admits and grabs the back of your neck, trying to pull you off of his length.

You lift off of him with a gasp of air. “You don’t want to-“ you bite your lip but Tim shakes his head. “Want to be inside you.” He reminds you, rolling your body under his again and your legs fall open to brace on either side of his hips.

He’s slower this time. Hovering over you, he reaches down to grip his cock and he positions himself at your entrance. He pushes into you, his eyes flicking up to meet yours as he braces his hand on the side of your head.

This time, he slides into you an inch at a time. Slow enough that you swear you feel his heartbeat fluttering against your pussy walls. Letting you moan softly and wrap your legs around his back, heels pressed into his tiny ass as you enjoy being split open by him again.

He exhales shakily once he’s fully inside of you. Groaning your name as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Fucking perfect.” He murmurs, cock twitching when you clench around him. “Gonna take our time. Want you to cum again for me.”

As frantic as the time in the station was, this is equally as slow. More like love making than anything else as Tim slowly pushes and drags his cock in and out of your walls. It's a good thing, since you are a little sore from earlier, but you wouldn't have him stop for anything in the world as you two kiss.

His lips press against yours over and over again, his weight shifting onto his forearms so he can press his body against yours. Your heels dig into his ass, pushing him impossibly deeper with every thrust into you and he swears he could stay like this forever.

You moan his name, holding him tight as you move with him. Wanting to be as close as you can get without crawling up inside his skin. “Fuck.” You whimper, his pelvis rubbing against your clit as he grinds down into you. It’s intense and totally consuming in the best possible way as he builds you back up.

"So fucking beautiful. So fucking smart. Too good for me. Too fucking good for me." He murmurs as he kisses along your neck while he rocks into you, his hand reaching back to lift your thigh higher so he can grind even deeper into you.

“Why?” You gasp out, unable to comprehend why he would think you’re too good for him. “Handsome, smart, sexy, capable.” You groan, clenching around him. “You’re a fucking catch.”

Tim chuckles against your neck. “I fucking - I got more baggage than a Goddamn airport, baby girl. I gotta - I have an ex wife and a son. It’s not - most women don’t wanna get involved in the drama.” He explains breathlessly as he rocks into you.

“No drama.” You moan, tightening your legs around him. “Mileage.” You tease playfully. Despite having an ex-wife, you know that he’s a good man, not a perfect one - but a good man. His son, well, he would be part of the deal and you couldn’t imagine thinking otherwise.

“Mileage.” He repeats with a chuckle. “Like an old corvette.” He jokes and slides his hands under you, getting even closer to you. His hips rock against yours a little faster, wanting to feel you cum around him.

“Classics are still fucking sexy.” You whimper when he hits deep inside you, striking the perfect angle. “There, fuck, right there Tim.” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He frowns, concentrating on that spot to make you cum. He pushes into you a little faster, not changing the angle of his hips and he watches your brow furrow and your mouth fall open. “Shit baby. Look so good.” He murmurs, “You gonna cum for me?”

“Yes!” You gasp, feeling the tension nearly snap the next time his hips rocket forward. Almost cumming right then. You just need one more thrust. Your body lurches when he pulls back, lifting up to meet him, and you squeal his name when he thrusts back into you, making stars erupt behind your eyes.

“Shit.” Tim hisses when you clamp down on his cock. “That’s it baby. Shit. So tight.” He pants, loving how wet you feel around him as your nails dig into his back. He works you through it, slow and deep despite the vice grip on his cock, and he kisses slowly along your neck.

“So good.” You whimper, panting for breath as you come down from your high. “Want you to cum.” You murmur softly. “Fill me up again.”

Tim clenches his jaw, his pace picking up a little more as you tell him to cum. He pants, rocking into you harder and faster, practically folding your body in half as he seeks his own high until he chokes, his body coming to a halt as his cock twitches. His hot cum paints your walls and he hisses your name as he rides his orgasm.

He’s fucking gorgeous when he cums. His eyes are closed, jaw slack with pleasure as he pumps you full of cum. Groaning and twitching deep inside of you, making you moan again. “Fuck baby.” You coo, caressing his neck and cheek. “Amazing.”

He exhales heavily as he relaxes. His lips meet yours as he leans down to kiss you. The kiss is slow, his tongue caressing yours, and he enjoys being inside of you.

You let the kiss linger, not in any rush to pull away and you don’t drop your legs from around him until your breathing has calmed down.

Tim nudges his nose against yours, shifting onto his side with you while he's still inside of you, not wanting to pull out just yet. "So I should definitely take you on an actual date." He says, his dark eyes on you.

“Maybe.” You smile as you answer him, leaning up for another kiss. “Maybe a romantic crime scene. We can flirt over evidence markers.”

Tim chuckles, “we do that anyway. But I mean, an actual dinner. Wanna take you out. Wine and dine you. What do the kids say nowadays?” He teases, nudging his nose against yours. “Well, they say Netflix and Chill.” Tim snorts, “pretty sure we already did that. Snuff Tape and Fuck.” He jokes before his face gets serious, “dinner. Wanna treat you right.”

“That sounds good to me, detective.” You murmur with a smile. While you don’t know why the film came to be in your possession or who had made it, you’re sure that you’ll figure it out. After all, Tim Rockford is a legend on the police force, solving cases and in this case, putting this one to bed.

#pedro pascal #tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford smut #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford imagine #merge mansion

[wardenparker]

Private Dick

Tim Rockford x plus size reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 11.8k Warnings: Plus size female reader with anxiety and internalized fatphobia/dysphoria. Tim is divorced with a shitty ex. Food/alcohol. Biting, fingering, shower sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, blink and you'll miss it vague reference to a pregnancy kink, brief mention of body shaming/bullying, a lot of talk about one character being vegan. SO MUCH FLUFF. Supportive love is a wonderful thing. Summary: Things are getting serious with your boyfriend, and that means that it's time for your anxiety to come out to play. But if there's one amazing thing about Tim, it's how much he cares. Notes: We just really needed some supportive fluff and hot smut this week, guys. I don't know what else to say ❤💛🧡

“So uh, there’s gonna be a get together at my mom’s house this weekend.” Tim fastens his watch and looks around for the toothpick that he had set down. He swears he has to lay off the pepper beef, the shit always gets trapped in his teeth, but every time they order from Happy Dumplings for the office, he gets the same thing. Standing up, he slides his boxers back up over his hips and looks over his shoulder. “I might have told her that I would bring you.”

"You told your mom about me?" You were halfway out of his bed and hunting around the floor of his bedroom for your panties when he said it and your head snaps up to look at him. God, the man really has a fantastic little ass.

“Well…yeah.” Tim frowns as he reaches for his pants. “She tried to set me up with some chick from her church, says I need a good woman to take care of me.” He snorts, remembering how his ex-wife used to say she would take care of him until the late nights and crushing pressure of the job had sent her into Tommy Litchfield’s bed. The divorce hadn’t been pretty and he had seen the kids four weeks out of the year. “Figured we had been…. seeing each other long enough, so I told her.”

It's been almost seven months since you and Tim started seeing each other, as he puts it, and you know the time right down to the day. Six months, three weeks, and one day. That was the best accidental first date of your life, and even though his job is demanding, you don't mind. You have hobbies and friends - your family and your own job - all to deal with. Time with him has been the icing on the proverbial cake. Hell, the first time he called you his girlfriend was barely a month ago and you had nearly giggled yourself silly, still in that first blush of happiness in your relationship. "So...what kind of get together is this?" Your panties had gotten hooked on his bedpost and you delicately pull them down with a smothered snort. "Should I be dressing up or are jeans okay?"

“Backyard party.” He tells you. “My brother-in-law pretends he can grill worth a shit, while he gets drunk off his ass.” Tim chuckles. “We eat burnt hamburgers that a dog wouldn’t touch while the kids play in the pool. Or just lounge around it and bitch now that they are older.”

"The kids...as in...your kids?" You know the rundown - the divorce, the custody negotiations, all the bullshit that he went through ten years ago. His ex-wife had been awarded primary custody of his then ten-year-old twins and she had barely allowed him to see them each year since. In fact, he had gotten to see his niece and nephew a hell of a lot more, and as such he has a pretty good relationship with them as adults.

“Yeah.” He shrugs into his shirt and starts to button it up. He has to go back to the office to go through witness statements. Barely getting enough time for lunch and a quickie, he hopes that you aren’t tired of him yet. “They are home for the weekend from college.”

"Okay." Your agreement is instant, although it's muffled somewhere inside your dress as you pull it back over your head. Both of your lunch breaks are almost over and you both have to get back to your offices. "Yeah. Count me in. Absolutely." Well...this is gonna be all you think about until the weekend...

“Good.” He flashes you a grin when your head pops through your dress and he reaches for the gun that’s on the nightstand to loop back through his belt. “Make sure you bring your bathing suit.”

"I don't—" Oh god...that's right...he mentioned a pool. A quiet panic wraps itself around your heart and squeezes your chest, and you duck down to find your shoes so he won't see it in your eyes. "Uh—right. Bathing suit. Got it." You'll just have to pretend you forgot when the day comes, that's all. No harm there. Just silly and forgetful old you.

“Fuck, we need a longer lunch break.” Tim grumbles, stepping over to zip up your dress and he kisses the back of your neck. “Want me to come over tonight if it’s not too late?”

"I always want you to come over," you admit softly. He really does have that effect on you - always reducing you to a puddle of a grown-ass-woman when he's sweet and affectionate like this. "Baked pasta for dinner? I can warm you up a plate if it's late when you get out." There are strains of real domesticity in your relationship and you like that it's stayed functional. You're separate people with separate lives, but they're starting to fuse together in little ways.

“I love your pasta.” He admits, reminding himself that you are far too good for him and despite the fact that he was often beaten up by his workload and the grim reality he deals with on a daily basis, you are becoming a safe haven for him. “But if it’s too late, I just want to slip into bed with you.” He admits. “Wrapping my arms around you and falling asleep.”

"Here..." Your purse is sitting on his bureau against the wall by the door, and you pad over to it to pull out your keys. It's a great big, giant gesture to make, but you unclip your house key from the ring and cross the room again to hold it out to him. "I think we're both adult enough to make this step, don't you?" There's a spare key in a little ceramic rock positioned specifically in your front garden that will make its way onto your key ring when you get home, but you want to make this step. You want to show Tim that you're serious about him – especially if he wants you to meet his family this weekend.

He frowns at the key as he looks down at it, noticing the logo of the manufacturer. “I’m going to change your locks this weekend too.” He decides with a grunt. “These locks are shit.”

Even as you’re rolling your eyes, you can’t help but smile. His way of showing affection isn’t always obvious, but you’ve learned to see the signs. “Just take the key, baby. Accept the gesture and take the key.”

“Here.” He digs into his pocket for his own key ring. There’s already a spare on his other key ring, so he quickly works the key off and hands it to you. “You know, for when you plan to meet me and maybe you need to pee. Or you want to come over and jump me in the middle of the night.” He jokes with a small wink.

“So…for all the time?” It’s less sexy and more awkwardly charming when you throw a wink back at him, and you reach up to give him a kiss. “Come on, sexy. We have jobs to get back to.”

He chuckles and pats your ass he you turn around. “I’ll give you a call, m’kay babe? Let you know about what time I’ll be over.”

"Sounds good." As much as Tim always insists he likes your ass, you always have to bite back a small frown when he pats it - there's just too much of it. Too much of you in general. Nope...don't go down that road right now...just check your reflection in the mirror to make sure your hair is okay and reapply your lipstick before you get back to the office. You'll be fine. "See you tonight, baby."

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He promises, watching you walk towards your car with a small grin on his face. While he had made mistakes, been married to his job for too many years, he was trying to do right by you. Wanting this new relationship to work. He’s crazy about you and he can’t wait for you to meet his family.

******

It's four excruciating days of worry until the day of the get-together at Tim's mother's house is finally here. He came over late last night after an interrogation and climbed into your bed to wrap himself around you and fuck both of you into exhaustion. To that end, he is still asleep upstairs while you putter in the kitchen. Coffee made, a pan of apple cobbler in the oven and whipped cream made from coconut cream because he had told you months ago that one of his daughters is vegan. There's a great big container of cold peanut noodles with all kinds of veggies in your fridge, too. All that nervous energy you have has gone into cooking, and you frown behind your coffee cup when you remind yourself that habits like this are why you hate looking at yourself in the mirror.

Tim has gotten used to waking up in your bed, probably far faster than he should have, but there is a connection with you that he hasn't felt in a long time. So it doesn't take long for his hand to seek out your soft, warm skin in his sleep. He had pulled your nightgown off of you and tossed it on the floor, both of you staying naked after he had fucked you. His frown precedes his eyes opening when he finds nothing but the cool spot on the bed where you should have been. Where did you go?

Heavy footsteps on the stairs are your giveaway, and you pour a cup of black coffee for Tim after turning down the volume on your music yet again. “Morning, handsome.”

"Why didn't you wake me?" He squints at the bright light, your curtains and blinds already opened. He could kiss you when you offer the coffee and he does, reaching for you to pull you close for a quick kiss to thank you.

“It was early.” Even though you shrug apologetically, the kiss is welcome and so is the place in his arms. “And you work hard, so you deserve the sleep.”

He hums and rubs your back softly. "Would rather spend time with you." He kisses your forehead and then pulls back, taking a sip of his coffee. "It smells good in here." Standing in your kitchen in his boxers should look odd, but it feels normal. He's been here enough that he knows the layout pretty well.

“I made my apple cobbler that you like…” you admit with a sheepish shrug of your shoulders. “But I made it vegan so your daughter can have some. And…my peanut noodle recipe is vegan anyway, so that’s in the fridge.” He had insisted that you didn’t need to make anything to bring to his mother’s house today but here you are, cooking up a storm.

It takes a moment for that to register and then he's sighing softly. "You are too good, you know that?" He asks, setting the coffee cup down again so he can pull you in for another kiss. "I – you are amazing and thoughtful." He knows he wouldn't have even thought about making something for Zara. Not because he's neglectful, but because he wouldn't even know where to begin making something vegan. "Everyone is going to love you."

“I hope so.” You’re not naive enough to think that his grown kids will automatically love their father’s girlfriend for any reason, and you’ve got just enough in the way of self-esteem issues to be worried. But you fully intend to make the best impression possible today.

"Do you want to shower?" He asks, smirking slightly. "I brought my overnight bag." He routinely keeps a bag in the trunk of his car in case of overnight cases and needing a change of clothes. "We can swing by my apartment to change into something more casual on the way."

"I keep telling you to put clothes in that overnight bag." The offer of a shower is tempting, though, and you glance at the timer on the oven. "The pan comes out of the oven in two minutes. Then I'm all yours."

"I do have clothes in the bag." He grumbles at you. "Work clothes." He watches as you move gracefully around your kitchen, admiring the way you work so efficiently. There's a small smile on your lips that he's pretty damn sure you aren't even aware that you have, but it makes you look even sexier in his eyes.

"Then we'll stop at your apartment on the way." His divide between work clothes and civilian clothes is stark, and you don't begrudge him that for one second. You certainly have two sections of your closet, and hardly ever wear work clothes on the weekends.

The timer goes off and he smiles, sipping his coffee as you rush over to pull the pan out. "Now it's my time." He growls playfully, setting down the cup and moving behind you as you set it down on the oven mitt.

Even as he hauls you backward you have the urge to remind him not to try to pick you up. Thick thighs and too much tummy and saggy arms that you hate are too much for his perpetually bad back and knees after decades on the force. "Come on, handsome," you laugh softly when he presses a kiss to the juncture of your neck and shoulder. "Let's go take that shower."

The softness of your ass against his groin makes his cock start to harden. Making him groan as he pushes it into you with a suggestive thrust. "Mhmmmm, we could get dirty first." He chuckles and nips at your pulse. "Or would you rather I fuck you in the shower?"

"I thought that's what showers are for?" Your shower, anyway. The cramped space in his apartment is no good for anything but being functional. Your house, however, has a large shower stall with excellent water pressure and a separate overlarge tub in the master bath. It had been half the reason for buying the house in the first place.

"That's what should happen in every shower we take." He groans, smirking into your skin before he pulls away to take your hand. "What do you think, baby?"

"I think you're a menace," you tease, lacing your fingers through his. "And I am absolutely here for it."

He laughs as he walks a step behind you up the stairs, still holding onto your hand and cannot resist slapping your ass with his other when you move up an extra step and it's in his face. "Fuck, I love your ass." He grunts.

Too big, your dysphoria supplies immediately, and you're glad he can't see your face as you climb the stairs together. You've never been skinny but it seems like since you got past your thirtieth birthday, everything got a little bigger out of protest. Everything except your tits. "I'm glad you like it," you manage, hoping you sound bright and teasing.

"Next time I have you on your stomach, I'm going to bite it." He threatens playfully, slapping it again right as you reach the top of the stairs. His cock twitches at the thought and he’s halfway toying with the idea of seeing if you would let him fuck your ass. It's not been talked about, and he's not just going to ask.

"Wouldn't be the first time you left teeth marks in me." That actually makes you laugh, remembering the first time your best friend had noticed the imprint of Tim's pearly whites when you had gone to her house after leaving his place. It was how she found out you were seeing someone, and you hadn't lived it down for weeks.

His growl catches in his throat and his hand tugs you back, spinning you around and pressing you up against the wall so he can kiss you again. This thing with you has progressed to the point where those three little words dance in his head when he is thinking of you. Still not quite voiced, they are there. Making him crave you even more when he has you nearby and he transfers that into the pressing of your lips together.

It's a sigh and a muffled groan from you, and your arms come up around his neck easily to encourage him to take whatever he wants. He's fucking irresistible and while you still can't quite grasp why he seems to want you, you're not going to question it and ruin the best adult relationship you've ever had. You're almost grateful to the idiot that broke into your office building and caused all of you to have to make statements to the police.

You had seemed to think that you needed to wear fancy lingerie when he first started sleeping with you, but the loose nightgowns you wear now are just as sexy and far easier to access. Thankful that you had taken his word and started wearing them to bed at night. His hands plunging underneath so he can cup your tit, his other hand twisting to slide into your panties as he groans into your mouth.

Tim's fingers are thick and nimble, and you never would have thought gun callouses could be sexy until you felt them slide through your pussy the first time. The hand fully encompassing one of your tits squeezes in earnest and you groan, hips already rocking against his other hand. "Fuck, Tim."

“That’s it, baby.” He grunts, kissing down your jaw and biting your ear. “Fucking love how wet you get. Pussy is gushing for me.”

Broad shoulders, broad chest, thick fingers, quick tongue, a smile that can leave you in a daze. How would you not be absolutely gushing for him? "Always," you sigh out, breath catching when he curls his fingers against your g-spot expertly. "Need you so bad, baby."

“Just what I want to hear.” His cock pulses against your soft belly and he wants nothing more than to lift you up and fuck you against this wall. Except you would squawk the entire time to put you down. Instead, he pumps his fingers diligently, eager to make you cum so he can fuck you in the shower.

The press of those thick digits inside of you has you gasping and clinging to him as he thrusts two fingers inside of you, adding a third to make you squeal and shake even harder. His eagerness makes perfect sense considering you weren't in bed beside him when he woke up, and you let your forehead drop forward to his bicep as you ride his fingers closer and closer to cumming right there in the hallway of your little house.

“You gonna cum for me baby?” He asks, always loving when you come apart for him. It’s a gorgeous sight. “Gonna soak my fingers? Squeeze them tight?”

"I—fuck—" Three fingers in your cunt and his thumb against your clit is too much all at once in the best way possible, and you're nodding against his arms as that tingling feeling at the base of your spine explodes and you start to shake apart. For a man who claims not to have dated a lot and have been rusty on intimacy when you had first gotten together, he never lost that muscle memory of how to be an amazing lover.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you cum.” He coos in your ear, feeling your cunt sucking his fingers in deep and starting to squeeze them. “Cum for me baby.”

Your fingernails bite into his arms as you grasp him tightly, entire body tensing completely before falling apart completely – flooding his hand with cum and slumping backward against the wall so you aren't too heavy on his arm. "Goddamn, baby..." you pant with a small giggle when you can breathe again, the orgasm exploding like shooting stars behind your still closed eyes.

“Fuck, I need to be inside you.” He feels the slick coating his fingers and wants to sink inside your quivering cunt. “Shower?”

“Shower.” It doesn’t matter that your legs are jelly, you can make it ten more feet into the bathroom. Your nightgown is pulled off of you before you hit the door, and his own boxers pushed down and kicked off. Leaving you in your panties as he opens the glass door to turn the shower on.

“Just what I needed today.” You’re only half teasing as you strip off your panties and toss them in the nearby laundry basket. “To be freshly fucked when I meet your family.”

He grunts, crowding you into the shower when you climb in and turning you around to face the wall. “You want to talk to my mama with a load of my cum in your pussy?” He grins, biting your neck again. “I can make that happen.”

“You can’t just say shit like that to me.” It earns him another moan and you back your ass up against his hips eagerly. “It’s gonna be all I can think about all day.”

“Good.” He chuckles roughly as his hands grip your hips and he presses closer. His cock folding up against his body and pressing into the cleft of your ass insistently. “It’s gonna be all I think about too. Imagining you dripping. Licking you clean.”

“Gonna have to slip away to your old room to get handsy.” You tease, knowing that his mother still lives in the house he grew up in.

“Fucked my first girl in that bed.” He grunts, silently acknowledging that it would be fitting that he fucks his last girl there too.

“Gonna make me another notch on that bedpost, Rockford?” You grin over your shoulder at him as his hands knead your ass. “I bet it was some homecoming queen. Or cheerleader. Do baseball games have cheerleaders?”

“Sometimes.” He smirks and shakes his head. Aware that you have some notion that he was some kind of stud when he was younger. “But maybe that new notch will be fun.” He poses as he rocks his hips back to take his cock in his hand.

"Getting you all riled up until you fuck me is always fun." All of Tim is thick. From his muscled limbs and shoulders that test the limits of store-bought shirts, all the way to his cock. The feeling of his head pushing your pussy open makes you moan, and you brace yourself against the wall of the shower for him to take as much as he wants from you. There's a certain amount of bliss involved in being intimate with Tim and you can usually push away your insecurities in favour of seeing - and feeling - just how much he enjoys touching you. Right now, the thoughts drop away and the only thing left is yes and more and oh god.

“Fuuuuuuuuuck.” He groans as he splits you in two. “I fucking love this pussy.” His breath is heavy in your ear and he rolls his hips until he is buried deep. “Perfect, baby, you’re fucking perfect.”

Perfect. Nobody had ever called you that before, and you had instinctively laughed the first time Tim had used the word. Since then you've tried to be a little kinder with yourself, and accept that just because you don't think you're perfect doesn't mean that he can't think so. "Just for you," you groan happily, reaching back to squeeze his hip. "Only for you, baby."

His lips trail over your skin and he can’t help but continue to kiss you. Loving how you clutch him deep inside your body and the softness of you against him. Reaching for your hands, he laces his fingers with yours and lays them against the wall, sliding his feet closer.

The cold tile against your front and Tim's hot skin at your back is an intense combination that you love – an extra reason to moan with every thrust. His body seems to cover every inch of you, enveloping you in his presence, and it's almost hard to move except to grind back against him every time he fills you up. It's a gorgeous feeling that you so easily get lost in.

“Fuck, how does it get better?” He pants into your ear. “Every fucking time, you feel even better. Addicted to you.”

"Perfect." He is the perfect one, and you won't hear anything to the contrary, panting out words with every slap of his hips against your ass. "Perfect cock. Perfect fuck. Perfect man. I—" For a moment, in your rapture, the words almost slip. Thank god you manage to swallow them quickly. "So good, baby."

“I know you’re gonna cum for me again, aren’t you?” He asks, rocking his hips forward to slap against your ass as he picks up his pace.

“Just like that.” You know it won’t take long now, not if he goes just a tiny bit harder like he does when he gets close, and the begging in your voice always gets him, too. Every time. “So fucking perfect, baby. Please let me cum fo—oh fuck— so close!”

Tim hisses, squeezing your hands as he rocks up into the balls of his feet. Thrusting harder into you. “Yessss, fuck, cum for me baby.”

Bearing down on his length this time, you can practically feel his pulse through the prominent veins of his cock as they scrub against your walls. The pressure is just as perfect as the rest of him and before you know it there are stars erupting behind your eyes.

Tim groans your name when he feels you start to cum. Loving how you whine and whimper as he works you through it. Sex with you has been amazing and he hadn’t been lying when he said it just kept getting better. When that final thrust comes and you are pressed tight between Tim and the tile, the feeling of his pulsing cock filling you full of sticky cum scratches that very private, very secret dream you have of one day actually having a family with this man, and you shiver a little with personal satisfaction when he groans your name into your skin one last time.

“God.” He pants, knowing that while he’s fucking you isn’t the right time to say those words for the first time. “So good baby.”

Laughing under your breath, you groan happily and let your weight go against the wall just to feel him slump against you. “Hell of a way to start the day,” you tease.

“Should start the day this way every morning.” He laughs along with you. “Don’t you think so?”

“Why do you think I gave you a key?” Twisting around just enough to kiss him, you hum against his lips and sigh happily.

He snorts and kisses you again. “So I should just swing into the house every morning as I go into work?” He asks playfully.

The impulse is there. The invitation right on the tip of your tongue. But it’s too soon. Way too soon. He doesn’t even know how you really feel about him yet — so telling him he could just give up his tiny bachelor pad and move in with you would probably send him running for the hills. “So you can stay over whenever you want,” is how you phrase it instead, hoping that that doesn’t sound overbearing or overeager.

“Don’t tell me that.” He warns you. “Your bed is softer than mine and it has the added bonus of having you in it. You’ll get tired of me.”

“No, I won’t.” The answer is too quick. You know that, but you can’t help it. Slowly turning around, the unfortunate side effect of losing his warmth as his quickly softening cock slips out of you is replaced by the benefit of getting to look him in the eyes. “I—I won’t get sick of you, baby.”

He nudges his nose against yours gently and sighs softly. “I hoped that I would make it a little more romantic than this.” He grumbles quietly,

“A little more romantic than being snuggly after sex?” You ask incredulously. Sure you’re not wrapped up in the blankets right now, but it’s still the same feeling.

“Something more romantic than shower sex to tell you that I love you.” Tim tells you quietly. “I’m not good with words or romance.”

When you deflate in front of him it’s out of pure shock, but you push off from the wall instantly to drag him down for a kiss. “I love you, too,” you promise him in that same hushed voice. “I have for—for months.” Since the night that he braved taking you to an Indian restaurant and got through an entire dinner before you found yourselves in the middle of a music festival in the park and he tried to sneak grabbing a hot dog because he didn’t want to admit to you that he didn’t like the restaurant you said you love. “I love you so much.”

He sighs in relief, pressing his forehead against yours and chuckling with joy. “Good. I was afraid I was rushing things. Or reading too much into the amazing sex we have.”

“I don’t think seven months before the first mention of love is anybody’s definition of rushing, baby.” Placing a kiss over his heart, you can’t help the way you grin from ear to ear when you look up at him. “But you’re right about the sex being really fucking good.”

“Yes, it is.” He agrees with a roguish wink. “Now we just need to clean up.” The functional portion of the shower never takes long. You’re both well established in your habits and are clean again in under ten minutes, leaving you to towel off on the bathroom rug together in no time. “So I was thinking that after my mom’s, I could stay tonight?” He asks, keeping his tone casual. “Since I’ll be dropping you off and I have a full weekend off for once?”

“I’m gonna call up your captain and tell him I have you handcuffed to my bed,” you joke, careful to keep yourself covered even while you’re drying off from the shower. It's a habit, and even if he’s just been inside you that’s no reason to force him to look at your whole blob-like body. “He can’t have you back until Monday. Girlfriend’s orders.”

“Careful now.” He warns with a grin. “I might like be handcuffed to your bed.” He’s never really thought about using his handcuffs, despite the ribald jokes from other detectives, but if you wanted to, he would let you. He trusts you.

“You? Give up control?” Raising one eyebrow at him in the mirror, you scoff playfully. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

“I thought you like when I’m in control?” He asks with a smirk. “But for you? I’d do it.”

“The perfume I wear is literally called ‘Good Girl’,” you laugh, motioning to the stiletto-shaped bottle on your bathroom shelf. “Of course I like it when you’re in charge.”

“That’s the stuff I like?” He asks, intrigued by the name. He never knows that kind of stuff, just that you smell amazing and he always wants to rip your clothes off when he smells it.

“Yup. The little bottle shaped like a high heel.” It’s your treat to yourself. Designer perfume makes you feel a little less like a fat girl playing dress up when you get ready to see Tim or go out with friends, and a little bit more like a full-grown woman. It’s silly, but if that’s what does it, then you can’t be too mad about it.

“I will have to buy you another bottle of that when you get low.” He hums, making a mental note of it. “It smells incredible on you.”

You won’t quibble with him now over the fact that it’s pricey or anything like that. It’s the gesture that counts, and the fact that you’re getting a little bit closer each and every day. “I don’t know how well it goes with chlorine.” With one little joke, you seize the chance in front of you. “Maybe I’ll abstain from swimming today.” No swimming means no swimsuit, which means no having to be partially undressed in front of his family.

Tim sends you a pout. “Nooo, I’m looking forward to getting into the pool with you.” He huffs, eager to see you in your bathing suit and watch you bask in the sun.

“It’s okay,” you insist, trying to play it off like it doesn’t matter at all. “Maybe next time.”

Tim frowns slightly when he realizes that you are serious and you will not be getting into the pool. “Yeah sure.” He nods. “Next time.” He agrees before he moves over to the sink to brush his teeth and shave.

“Okay.” He’s upset. He’s upset with you, and your mind goes straight to the worst possible scenario which is obviously that he’s going to break up with you over it. A lifetime of trying to deal with low self-esteem and self-worth issues but still you go straight to the worst-case scenario sometimes. “Gonna go get dressed,” you mumble quickly, retreating from the room still wrapped entirely in towels, as fast as your feet will carry you.

Tim sighs, wondering where he went wrong this morning. It had been going so well but Trina had continuously accused him of putting his foot in his mouth or being insensitive. He had been trying so hard with you and yet he can tell you’re upset. He looks in the mirror and shakes his head. “Don’t fuck this up.” He orders himself with a groan.

The warm Southern climate means swimming happens all the time, but it’s still October so you put on a light cardigan with your sundress and sandals and try to keep yourself from crying and making your eyes red before you leave the house. The last thing you need is to show up to meet his kids and his mother with bloodshot eyes. “Don’t fuck this up,” you chastise yourself, opening the dresser drawer that holds your one swimsuit just to stare at it for a minute in loathing.

“Baby?” Tim had retreated downstairs once he had dressed, sure that you needed some time to yourself. “Are you ready?” Are you still coming?

“Yeah! One second!” Out of some kind of masochistic instinct, you grab your bathing suit and cram it into your tote bag when you snag it off your dresser and rush downstairs. Clothes, jewelry, make up, all of it is in place to try to make the most positive first impression possible. “Sorry, I—” You immediately focus on getting the food packed up into a reusable shopping bag. “I almost forgot to put on perfume. Stupid, right? After we just were talking about it?”

“That’s okay.” Tim approaches you slowly from behind and he gently takes hold of your waist. “You still smell great even without it.” He promises, leaning in and kissing your shoulder. Offering a silent apology.

“Do I look okay?” It’s silly to be worried. You’re a grown woman and he’s a grown man. But you’re terrified and determined not to fuck up again today.

“You look stunning.” He promises you. “If I hadn’t promised my mother that we would be there, I would keep you here and take you back upstairs to show you how pretty you look.”

“Okay.” Nodding twice, your head hangs between your shoulders for a second before you force yourself to straighten up and take the bag full of food from the counter. “Ready when you are.”

“Are you sure you want to go?” He asks, concerned that he is pushing too fast. It seems like you’re forcing yourself to go.

“Of course I’m sure.” The brightness in your voice isn’t entirely forced. You do want to go, you’re just terrified and self-conscious. And from the look on his face, he knows something is wrong. “I’m just—” Your eyes drop and so do your shoulders. “I’m worried what they’ll think of me, that’s all.”

“Baby.” He shakes his head and sighs softly, happy that he can reassure you. “They are going to love you.” He promises. “Probably love you more than me.”

“They loved Trina.” You’ve seen plenty of his pictures of his ex-wife. Their wedding pictures, especially, and even how skinny she managed to get back to being after having their twins. She’s stunning, and successful, and smart. And you’re a dumpy little nobody who sits behind a desk and definitely never goes to the gym. “I’m not like her. At all.”

“That’s a good thing.” He promises, chuckling at how ridiculous it would be to date someone like his ex.

You let out a half-laugh, huffing at yourself, and shake your head slightly. It sounds so stupid to say it out loud, but here you are in the middle of your kitchen about to break apart at the seams over a first meeting. “She—she’s prettier than me.” In every sense, in your opinion. But especially, she’s skinnier.

Tim frowns and vehemently shakes his head. “That is not true.” He argues. “And it doesn’t matter how pretty she is, she is my ex-wife.” He reminds you. “She left me. Took my kids from me.”

“Right.” Blinking back the impending tears that will ruin your makeup and the mood, you nod your head and take a steadying, if shaky, breath. “Right. I know that. I’m sorry. I’m just—I’m being stupid.”

“You aren’t being stupid.” He huffs, hating how you belittle yourself. You are kind and generous to everyone but yourself. “It is just nerves, right? This is a big step and I’m sure I’ll be shitting myself when I meet your folks.”

“It’s nerves.” You agree, nodding again and resisting the urge to press on your closed eyes to stop the water behind them. It would smudge the eye makeup you put on so carefully. All waterproof, ironically. But not touched-with-hands proof. “I just don’t—” It is stupid, and a part of you knows that. The part that pays fucking attention in therapy every other week. “I don’t want you to finally realize you’ve been dating a cow if I put on my swimsuit,” you admit quietly.

“A cow?” He growls the comment in surprise, rearing back and wondering where the hell that idea came from. “Who the fuck called you a cow?” He demands, furious and ready to punch someone if they’ve insulted you like that.

“Nobody had to.” Your sister. Your grade school bully. The woman at the department store. A girl at camp. A boy you had a crush on in high school. Your parents. Nobody. Everybody. “I’m just a little anxious. It’s fine. I just won’t have any caffeine the rest of the day and it won’t get worse. Please don’t be upset?”

Tim shakes his head and he reaches up to cup your cheeks. “Baby, put your bag down.” He orders you softly. He doesn’t want to leave this house until he’s truly talked to you, and if that means being late, then he will be late. “Please?”

It only takes a moment of silence between you before you swallow your protest and set your purse and the bag of food back on the counter. This is it. He’s going to dump you for being an idiot. At least you got to tell him you love him before that happened, right?

He guides you over to the chair and sits you down, kneeling in front of it and holding onto your hands. “Baby, I don’t know why you are so hard on yourself.” He starts softly. “But I want you to know how I see you.” He knows self-image is just that, your image of your own self, he can’t change your mind for you. “I see you right now, and you are gorgeous.” He nods, smiling as he looks at you. “Generous, pillowy curves that make my mouth water and my cock ache.” Licking his lips, he continues. “I love the way you feel, the way you taste. I love your heart, your kindness. Your thoughtfulness. Your patience.” He stresses. “You are beautiful, inside and out and I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You say cow, I say stunning, voluptuous goddess that I love.”

“I know that the voice in my head that says these things is intentionally hurting me.” Holding onto his hands like a lifeline, you end up squeezing his fingers in yours. “I’ve been in therapy for enough years to know that. It’s a skewed perspective. But there really are sometimes that I cannot shut it off. It’s like a train going off the tracks,” you explain, hoping he can follow the line of what you’re saying. “I can see the disaster ten feet ahead of me, but it’s too late to stop it. I know I’m going to go headfirst into the worst kind of hating myself, but I can’t stop it from happening.”

“I know what you mean.” He does. He’s seen the department shrink enough times to understand that. It’s like when he blames himself for circumstances beyond his control. “I’m never going to tell you that you are stupid, or dumb for thinking that way.” He promises you. “But I am going to disagree with you, tell you that you are wrong. Because there isn’t one thing about you that I would change.”

"Really?" There's a second where you're too afraid to look up at him, but you can feel Tim's eyes on you and so you raise your head in some kind of silent moment of obedience and it makes you decide to crack a smile and go for a joke. "Not even my broken brain?"

“Not even that.” He smiles at you. “Because I love you, all of you. The good and the negative.” He squeezes your hands gently, “Love you, baby.”

"I love you, too." You lean over to kiss him, half in disbelief that he didn't ask for his key back and walk out your door. "Thank you. For...for listening. And not thinking I'm crazy for overreacting."

He chuckles and leans down to kiss your hand. “Baby, I think you are crazy for putting up with me, not for how you feel.”

"You're amazing, and it's never putting up with you. I love spending time with you." The sigh that comes out of you is deep and long, but you feel better. The weight on your shoulders has lifted, if only for now, and you manage an honest smile. "We should get going, baby. You don't get to see the twins that often and I don't want you to miss a minute of it today."

“Okay.” He waits another moment, searching your eyes and then he pats your thigh gently. “Let’s go. I can quickly change.”

It's a fast enough trip to stop by his apartment on your way to his mother's house, and once he's swapped his work clothes for a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, he slides back into the car beside you and you're off to the races again. At this rate you'll be no more than five minutes late, and that is nothing at all.

Driving the familiar route home, he points out places he used to go as a child and then a teenager. Sharing glimpses into his life. Holding his hand in yours as he pulls up to the two-story house that he had been raised in. “I'm right here with you.” He promises, kissing your hand again. “And they will love you.”

"As long as you love me, I'm okay." That's the pep talk you were giving yourself on the way over, and you're feeling a little more settled after the glimpses into his past. You didn't grow up around here so you can't do any such tour for yourself, but it's nice to see a slightly different side of the town you've lived in for years.

“Are you ready?” He asks after he cuts the engine, turning towards you slightly. “Or do you need a minute?”

"Let's do it." If you sit in the car and procrastinate you'll only give the negative thoughts time to come back, so you lean over to kiss him and buck yourself up. "I'm good, baby. I promise."

“You are always good.” He tells you with a wink before he climbs out of the car and hustles around to open your door for you. Taking the dishes you had protected on the way over so you can get out.

There is plenty of noise coming from the backyard of the beautiful little brick house, and the sound of splashing is already obvious along with music playing and people chatting at various volumes. This is definitely a family party, and it seems like the family is already here.

"Uncle Tim!" The call comes up from the pool first, as his nephew catches sight of him first and waves. "Holy shit! Y'all, Uncle Tim actually left his desk!" The teenager teases with a cackling laugh.

“Yeah, yeah.” Tim rolls his eyes in good fun as he waves back. His hand immediately goes back to the small of your back and he slowly guides you forward. “Come on baby, we’ll put up the food inside and then come back out.”

"Holy shit Uncle Tim brought a girl!" A teenage girl's voice calls after you, with as much excitement as shock, and you're in the middle of a fit of giggles when he opens the sliding door to let you into the kitchen from the back porch. "So that's your nephew and niece, huh?" You snort, smothering the sound with one hand even as you try to stop laughing.

“Brats.” He huffs, his sour look simply for show. “You would think I was a ball-less hermit.” He snorts, setting the travel bag for your dishes down and then opens the fridge to see if there’s room.

"Language." His mother's warning tone is playful from around the corner, but she still means it. Foul language stays outside, it doesn't come inside her house. "Timothy Alan, don't make me send you outside if you're going to be vulgar."

“Me?” He points at himself as he exclaims. “They are being vulgar. And I’m the one in trouble?” His question doesn’t stop him from immediately moving around the corner to engulf his mother in a hug. “Hey Ma.” He kisses her cheek and urges her to come into the kitchen. “I brought my girlfriend.”

"They're outside and I can't hear it," his mother teases, blissfully aware of her arbitrary rules and the fact that nobody is actually in any trouble whatsoever. "Honey." She reaches out both hands to you after giving Tim a hug. "He's been hiding you from me knowing I'm gonna steal you away to have a cooking friend again. It is so good to meet you, sweetheart."

"It's really nice to meet you too, Mrs. Rockford." Even as she envelopes you in the same tight hug that Tim got, you look over her shoulder to shoot Tim a surprised expression.

Suzanne Rockford is far from a petite woman. She is sturdy, hearty. Obviously heavier and he has never told you that, honestly believing that it didn’t matter, but now he wonders if he should have. Maybe you would have been less self-conscious if you had known. He shoots you a smile and a half shrug. “Where’s Vanessa?” He asks, looking around for his sister.

"Upstairs, looking for god knows what in the attic? Unless she’s found it already, and then who knows." Suzanne waves one hand and pays that no mind. "Did Tim offer you a drink yet honey?" She asks you, giving you her absolute full attention. "We've got a whole bar out on the back porch, and the fridge under the car port has beer and soda. But I keep the wine in here." Apparently that is a conspiratorial secret, because she waggles her eyebrows at you. "Whatever you want, I'll grab you a cup."

"I'll grab a soda when we go back out," you promise her, not wanting to start drinking too early in the day. According to Tim, his mother's parties are a strictly all-day affair.

“Ma, she brought an apple crisp and a noodle dish. Vegan, for Zara to enjoy.” He tells her, beaming proudly. “Where do you want me to put them?”

"In the fridge, honey. There's room on the bottom shelf." She looks just as proud as he does, and she reaches out to squeeze your hand. "She's doing well with it, you know," she nods authoritatively. "Talked to her doctor about making sure she gets protein and all her vitamins. Doing some really creative cooking, that one. Once she's got her mind set on something, that's it. It's do or die." Suzanne smirks. "Gets that from her Dad."

“I tried some of that vegan cheese.” Tim tells his mom, shuddering slightly. “The sliced stuff is shit, but the shredded stuff actually melts pretty good.”

“What matters is that you tried.” Suzanne nods approvingly. “Have you two gotten to say hi yet?”

“Not yet, we wanted to get the food put up.” He explains, coming back over to kiss his mom’s cheek again. “I’m looking forward to seeing them. Texting when we get a chance sucks.”

“Go introduce everybody,” she encourages, shooting a smile your way before shooing him off. “There’s things to snack on out there already. Lunch in an hour, or whenever Ricky gets that grill going.”

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckles, knowing that Ricky will fight with the grill for at least ten minutes. He moves over to you and takes your hand. “Let’s go see the kids, baby.”

You let him usher you back out into the bright, late morning sun, and for the first time you get a good look at the backyard in its entirety. There are a lot of people here — more than a dozen for sure — and you can hear another car honk as it pulls up in front of the house. The mood is pure happiness and even a tinge of nostalgia, as people greet each other who haven’t seen each other in ages. The air of absolutely everything is positive, and you take a deep breath to bring some of that into you as well.

Tim sees the first one that he wants to introduce you to. “Vanessa!” He half cups his mouth with one hand to shout his sister’s name. “Get your ass over here!”

"Hi to you, too!" His younger sister rolls her eyes and kisses the woman she was talking to on the cheek before hustling across the lawn. She has a beer in her hand and sunglasses on top of her curls, and she has the same stout and strong figure as their mother but with a little bit more grace in her movements.

He lets go of your hand only so he can wrap his arms around his sister and hug her tight. Making her squeal when he squeezes too tight. “How have you been? It’s been a month or so.”

“Yeah, you’ve been busy.” She raises both her eyebrows at you, waggling them for comedic effect, and then promptly nudges her brother away so she can shake your outstretched hand.

“Sorry if I’ve kept him away from you,” you apologize, not ever wanting her to think that you were intentionally keeping Tim away from his family.

“Are you kidding me?” She laughs, giving your hand a squeeze. “It’s fantastic. I’ve barely seen him sulk in months.”

“I don’t sulk.” His lips immediately form a pout as he glares at his sister. “I was gonna be happy to introduce you to my girlfriend, now you can fuck off.” Even though he says that, he immediately tells her your name before pointing at her. “This is Vanessa, the pain in my ass all my childhood.”

"It's really nice to meet you." He's told you a lot about his sister and you already knew she was a ball buster, but meeting her now feels like a relief. They're close and it's fun to see Tim relaxed like this with his family. "Believe it or not he's actually only told me great things about you."

“Oh, I’m sure.” Her tone is sarcastic and she’s rolling her eyes, but her grin gives her away as she transfers her attention from her brother to you. “I’m a hugger.” She warns you before she pulls you in for a less formal greeting than a handshake.

"It's okay, I am too." It's a far sweeter welcome than you expected to get, both from his mom and his sister, and you let yourself squeeze her back just for a second before letting go. "I'm just really excited to meet everyone."

“I was so excited that Tim told Mom he was bringing you.” She tells you with a smirk at her brother. “It’s been forever since he’s introduced us to someone, and she who shall not be named isn’t exactly ‘fun’.” She confides.

"Oh?" Having been under the impression that his family had liked his ex while they were together, you tilt your head curiously. "Well, uh...we figured it was time," you offer with a shrug. "It's been more than a few months, ya know? And...and things have been really good. Tim is just—" You glance back at him and end up grinning. "He's really amazing."

“He’s a good guy.” As much shit as she gives him, she would be the first to defend her brother and she knows he is much the same way. Siblings in the sense that she can tease him but she’ll kick anyone else’s ass who does. “And he talks about you a lot, so I think he likes you.”

"You talk about me?" Yes, sure, he told you he loves you less than two hours ago, but you still soften in surprise hearing that.

“Oh he doesn’t shut up about you.” She insists, smirking wickedly at Tim who looks very interested in the top of his foot in his flip flops. “Asking if he should take you here, talking about your job. I feel like I know you.” She pats your arm. “He told me he didn’t want to fuck this up.”

"Did he tell you about the fundraiser he let me drag him to?" He's blushing and it's the cutest thing you've ever seen, so if you maybe pick out something to talk about that will make his cheeks turn an even deeper shade of red then that's entirely on purpose.

“Nooooooo.” Vanessa lights up and is nearly about to bust for information. “My brother? At a fundraiser?” She sounds positively scandalized, as if she could never imagine such a thing.

"The nonprofit I work for has dinner dances and black-tie events during the year." You explain, feeling Tim shift self-consciously next to you in the grass even though he's smiling. "He's actually been to two of them now."

“You got my brother to wear something other than those horrible dress pants and button ups?” She gasps. “I swear the ties were from Christmas when the twins were four.”

“We rented him a tuxedo for one event.” The admission brings a dramatic sigh from Tim but you lean over to put your arm around his waist and smile broadly. “You look good no matter what, honey.” Did you climb him like a tree that night because he looked extra good in the tux? Absolutely. But he still looks delicious in his t-shirt and shorts.

“I should just buy one.” Tim grumbles. He hadn’t liked wearing it, although realistically, it wasn’t much different from a regular suit. And you had enjoyed him in it. The sex had been extremely hot once he had gotten you back to your place. “Since you want me to go to those things.”

Vanessa’s eyebrows raise at the offer, and she smirks mercilessly. Hearing her big brother make any kind of comment that trends toward commitment is practically worth celebrating. “Ya know,” She giggles evilly and takes a sip of her beer. “I hear that’s even the kind of shit guys get married in.”

Tim nearly chokes in his own tongue, wishing he had decided to take the crime scene call that had come over the radio on the way here. Even a blood bath would have been preferable to the way his sister is probing for information. He just said he loves you, if he starts talking about marriage, you might think he’s gone nuts.

“Oookay, maybe let’s not pick a topic that makes him want to implode?” You try to joke, squeezing his arm gently, and stifle a laugh. That’s exactly the kind of thing you would expect from a little sister but you don’t want Tim to think you’re crazy the way the idea may or may not have already crossed your mind in daydreams from time to time.

“Jesus, Ness.” Tim huffs. “First time you meet her and you’re picking out our wedding colors?” He rolls his eyes. “Booked the church already?”

“Mom did.” Vanessa laughs, and you can’t quite tell if she’s kidding or not as she blows Tim a kiss and scampers off to keep her husband from blowing the place up while he’s on the grill.

“Oh dear God.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll make sure Ma didn’t actually reserve the church.”

“Baby, baby—” You grab both of his hands and let a laugh burst through as you pull him closer. “She’s teasing. It’s okay. I’m sure your mom didn’t do anything like that and even if she did, who cares? It’s a funny story we’ll tell someone in the future.” Honestly? It makes you pretty fucking comfortable here knowing that his family is full of ball busters with good senses of humor. And that they’re okay enough with you to include you in those jokes.

“I wouldn’t put it past her.” He grumbles, although he’s leaning in to kiss your lips.

“Then it’s a really funny story we tell later on.” You promise him, happily taking that kiss that he offers you so easily. “I like that your sister is comfortable enough with me to tease.”

“They like you.” He points out with a grin. “Just like I told you they would.” He catches sight of the twins and lights up. “Come on, there they are.”

“This is going on the internet!” Tim’s twin girls are pulling out their phones as soon as they see their father, dramatically button smashing and pointing the devices at the two of you. “Red alert! Dad’s girlfriend is real! This is not a drill!”

“Hey!” Tim lunges forward, snatching for their phones playfully. “Don’t make me throw you in the pool!”

“You can’t.” They’re fraternal twins, and the taller one - Zara - reaches out to hug her dad first. “Your back couldn’t handle it if you tried.”

“I’d try.” He immediately wraps his arms around his firstborn daughter and hugs her tight to his chest. “Hey bug, how have you been?” He asks, kissing her head.

“I got a term paper kicking my ass, but I’m doing okay.” Zara shrugs. Her studies mean the world to her, next to her family, but she tries to stay realistic and avoid overreacting when school is difficult.

“She’s doing amazing, it’s annoying.” The slightly shorter of the twins has lighter hair and looks a bit more like their mother, but that hasn’t stopped Joey from growing up the opposite of Trina; well-adjusted and affectionate. “We need to ask you a favor, though,” she looks at both you and Tim seriously.

“What’s up?” Tim immediately frowns, sure that there is something wrong, something he needs to fix.

“We need you to throw Thanksgiving this year.” Both girls insist in unison, a habit leftover from childhood, before Joey continues to explain. “Gran said she wasn’t up to hosting on her own this year so Mom is trying to make us go to Derek’s parents’ house. But if we tell her you’re throwing Thanksgiving with your girlfriend we’ll be off the hook.” The idea that their grandmother doesn’t want to host anymore has been a bummer for everyone, but an even bigger bummer would be having to deal with their second step-dad’s snooty family.

“I—" he looks helpless towards you, hating that you’ve been put on the spot like this. Holidays haven’t even been discussed and he doesn’t know what you usually do. “Girls, look, even if—”

“No problem.” You cut in, knowing you might be overstepping a tiny bit but for the first favor you might be able to grant his kids, you’ll take that chance. “Even if your Dad gets tied up on a case, my house is big enough and I’m a pretty decent cook.” You do look to Zara though, knowing she can’t be too fond of the main event on Thanksgiving. “We’ll pick out some vegan things together, too.”

His oldest daughter immediately perks up at that idea. “Really?” She asks excitedly. “You wouldn’t mind? I know there’s like, a lot of negativity about vegans, some of them are real assholes.” She tells you. “But I just want to, you know, live pure. But I don’t blame people for eating meat, or if they can’t make me something.”

“I made a couple of things for today that are vegan, it’s really not a problem.” Her enthusiasm and her surprise at being accommodated just makes you want to reach out and hug her, but you look to her father instead. “Is this okay with you, hun? I mean my family’s Thanksgiving is clear across the country and it would be nice to…ya know…do something at home. Instead of being a pity invite at a coworker’s house.”

“What? Yeah.” He nods eagerly, both happy that the girls will be there and that you will be too. “Of course.” He looks over at the girls. “This year won’t be pizza because the turkey’s frozen.” He chuckles.

“Thank you.” Joey is the first to break the ice, reaching out to squeeze both of your shoulders. “Don’t get the wrong impression or anything, our Mom is great at some things, but hosting holidays is not one of them. Which is why it went to her mom for so long, and then whatever guy she’s married to, and—”

Zara practically elbows her sister in the ribs and smiles politely. “This is Joey,” she laughs, waving a hand at her sister. “She talks a lot when she’s nervous.”

“It’s okay.” With a wave of your own hand, you are offering both girls hugs if they want them. “I’m nervous, too. Your Dad loves the hell out of you girls and I’ve been really looking forward to meeting you.”

Zara and Joey both hug you, smiling happily while Tim looks on. He’s relieved that you seem to like the girls. And while it might be unusual that he’s just now introducing you to his twenty-year-old twins, he hadn’t wanted to force things too early. They had resented Derek’s intrusion into their lives when their mom had immediately started dating him, and he hadn’t wanted to make the same mistakes.

Getting to know Tim’s girls is fantastic. They’re good kids, smart as hell, and enthusiastic about their dad being happy again. So enthusiastic, in fact, that it’s easily an hour later when lunch is being announced that you manage to make your way back to his side after being stolen away. You’re at the food table with Zara while she scoops out a plate of your vegan peanut noodles when you give her a squeeze and tell her you’re going to go grab something to eat — and immediately drift away to Tim’s side as he brings over a plate of burgers and hot dogs to the other end of the table.

“Well hey there stranger,” you laugh, slipping one arm around his waist and sighing in relief at having the solid, comforting bulk of him back again.

“Hey.” He grins at you as he sets down the plate. “Sorry, had to rescue the day.” His brother-in-law had actually caught the grill on fire because he hadn’t cleaned it. Tim had taken over and been in charge of the food.

“My hero.” The grin on your face speaks volumes. “Some damn good kids you’ve got there, Rockford. They kept me well entertained, and we’ve got a whole menu worked out for Thanksgiving already.”

“Oh really?” He chuckles. “Has Zara convinced you to make me fry a Tofurkey?” He asks, knowing she might have tried.

“We’re going to do a dish of roasted cauliflower, mushrooms, and butternut squash to add to the table. She got excited about trying out a spice mix in them and said she’d love it for her main dish.” Hell, it sounded good to you as a meat eater, it didn’t surprise you that it sounded good to a vegan. “And she gave me some tips on using alternative milks and vegan butter in recipes so that more of the traditional dishes could be vegan friendly.” Honestly? None of it sounded difficult, and you’re thrilled to be able to do something for his kids. “No exaggeration. I’m looking forward to it.”

“That’s good.” The fact that you are accommodating his daughter is something that makes him fall a little more in love with you. Trina had complained bitterly when Zara had announced becoming vegan.

“I know you were worried when it came out of nowhere, but you don’t need to be.” In fact, after actually getting here and meeting everyone, you’re feeling more relaxed than you had thought possible. “And I—I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” you admit quietly. “Now that I know how nice everyone is, it…how I acted feels even more ridiculous.”

“So you don’t think that I’m going to realize anything more than I’m going home with a hot chick tonight?” He asks, leaning in and nudging his nose against yours.

"As long as you think so, that's all that matters." You don't have to see it, you remind yourself, as long as he does. What had your therapist said to you ages ago? 'You're just not your own type'.

“I absolutely think so.” He winks and leans back to leer at you. “Especially when you look that pretty in your sundress.”

"Oh yeah?" That look is all too familiar to you, and you bite back a grin. It's the same appraising look he had given you at the fundraiser before stealing you away from the party and back to his apartment, which was much closer to the venue than your house.

“Very pretty.” Tim grunts, moving behind you and pressing up against you at the table. “Good enough to eat.”

"Is that a promise?" He has that hungry look in his eyes that you can never resist and you try to school your expression into something innocent.

“Ah ah ahaaaaaa.” Vanessa tuts as she picks up a plate. “Not around the food.”

"Busted," you smirk, pulling Tim away from the table and heading toward the house as subtly as possible.

“You wanna?” Tim groans happily, his shuffled steps quickening behind you. He has zero qualms with having sex in this house, but he had expected you to demure.

“I always want you.” You murmur, practically rolling your eyes at him as you disappear into the house together. “Like absolutely always. It’s a constant state of existence, baby.”

“Yeah?” It surprises him how much you want him. Delights him, but surprises him. He watches you walk towards the stairs. “Last room on the left, baby.”

The upstairs hallway is littered with family photos of many generations, and you quickly look through them as you walk, until one makes you stop dead and “Aww!” out loud. Elementary age Tim in a little policeman’s uniform shares a double frame with a photo of the same man fifteen or twenty years later on the day he graduated from the Police Academy. “This might be the cutest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen,” you grin, pointing to the photos.

“Always knew I wanted to be a cop.” He feels his face burn and he shuffles slightly as he watches you examine the photos. “A little different now, don’t wear the uniform.”

“Nah, you don’t.” You grin up at him and hook your finger in his t-shirt to bring him down for a kiss. “I like the shoulder holster better anyway. Much sexier.”

“Sexier, huh?” He grins against your lips and leans in to press you against the wall. “Want me to wear it for you one day?”

“Maybe.” Your lips quirk against his in a way that absolutely means yes, and your hands wander up under his t-shirt to spread out over his muscles back. “Kinda curious how you would feel about interrogating me, actually…”

“Really?” He pulls back and arches a brow at you. “You want that? Maybe those handcuffs we were talking about? Giving you a pat down?”

The way you muffle a soft groan and briefly close your eyes should be plenty enough of a giveaway. “If I wasn’t wet before I certainly am now,” you grumble, enjoying the fantasy playing yet again in your mind.

“You concealing a weapon?” He asks gruffly, even though he is smiling. He won’t really roleplay with you right now, but you seem to love the idea.

“Maybe…” You can’t help but giggle, taking his hand that isn’t braced on the wall above your head and guiding it under the skirt of your sundress. “Guess you’re gonna have to find out.”

All he can feel is generous, warm flesh. Making him groan and his cock twitches against your hip. “When did you take your panties off?”

“I snuck inside about ten minutes ago.” Your soft little grin turns wicked. “I think I have a domesticity kink, cause I was enjoying watching you at the grill.”

“I’ll grill every night if you stop wearing panties.” He promises with a groan. “My sexy girl.”

“You wanna add another notch to that bedpost, baby?” The two of you are about three feet from the door to his childhood room and it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to get caught fucking in the hallway. Just for basic courtesy’s sake.

“Only notch that counts.” He promises, pulling away from you to drag you into the bedroom.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Tim Rockford #Tim Rockford x reader #Tim Rockford x you #Tim Rockford x female reader #Tim Rockford x f!reader #Detective Tim Rockford #fluff #plus size reader

[sugadolly]

❝you can ask me anything you want, anything, anything❞

#i've been bad i've been wrong #playing a dangerous game 🗣️ #i had fun editing this #he looks mesmerizing in black & white #tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford smut #merge mansion #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #lana del rey #lizzy grant #playing dangerous #daddy issues

[beskarandblasters]

sexfiles.mp3

Tim Rockford x True Crime Podcaster!Reader

Main Masterlist | Tim Rockford Masterlist

Author’s note: Thank you to @wethairjoel and @theywhowriteandknowthings whose ideas I combined to come up with the title! Banners and dividers are by @saradika!

Summary: You’re a true crime podcaster and you land the interview of your dreams with Detective Tim Rockford. What will happen when you two are alone in the studio after the interview is done?

Word count: 2.7k

Warnings: Reader is able-bodied, F!Reader, uneven power dynamic (Tim is a guest on Reader’s show) pet names, oral sex (M and F receiving), semi public sex (I think), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, drinking, no use of y/n

It’s the morning of what’s about to be the highlight of your career. You’re about to interview the Detective Tim Rockford for your true crime podcast, MysteryMondays.mp3. It’s a Friday, your typical recording day, and you’d typically wear just jeans and a t-shirt of your choice since you’re not on camera and normally recording by yourself. But today’s different. You have a guest joining you, and you’ve had guests on the podcasts before but none of them have been like Tim. You’re dressing to impress. 

Tim Rockford is the lead detective on the case that’s been dubbed the “Grandma Ursula” case. What started as just a simple disappearance of an elderly woman in a small town turned into an overnight sensation where the public learned that she not only faked her disappearance but was also accused of murdering a man. The trial is set to happen in a few weeks so Detective Rockford is coming on your podcast to go over what information has been released to the public. 

You opt for a sweater, a skirt hitting your mid-thigh, and a pair of Doc Martens before leaving the house, mentally hyping yourself up on the drive to the studio. The interview isn’t until two so you have the rest of the morning and the first half of the afternoon to prepare. 

“Don’t you look nice today,” your producer Kendall says when you pass her desk.

“Why thank you.”

“It wouldn’t be because a special guest is coming in later today, would it?”

“Are you insinuating I don’t look nice every day?” you joke. 

“You know what I’m getting at.”

“I just want to look presentable for Detective Rockford, that’s all.”

“Mhm, get your man,” she laughs as you head to your office. 

You spend the first half of your day going over case notes, key points you want to hit, and some background on Detective Rockford’s career. His case history is extensive so you want to be extra prepared. But soon enough it’s time for lunch and then time to make sure the studio is prepared to record. 

“Are you nervous?” Dana, a member of your research team, asks as you’re checking the microphones. 

“A little. I mean, he’s a big deal.”

“For sure. But he seems nice, at least from the interviews I’ve seen on TV.”

“I hope you’re right,” you respond, setting two bottles of water on the table. 

Kendall’s printing out your show notes in the office but you’re gonna do your best to not have to use them. You want to maintain eye contact with him as best as you can. Like Dana, you've seen his TV interviews and you can’t deny that he’s attractive, especially when he’s wearing his shoulder holster. Wouldn’t it be crazy if he wore that to the interview? He definitely won’t but you can dream. 

Kendall comes into the studio with the notes, setting them on the table in between the microphones. She rests a hand on her hip and asks, “You ready?”

“I think. As ready as I'll ever be.”

“Don’t be nervous. He’s just some guy.”

“He’s not just some guy! He’s a well-renowned detective who definitely has better things to do than to be on our silly little show.”

“Oh yeah, he’s not just some guy. I don’t know why I said that,” she laughs. 

“You’re just trying to make me less nervous. But unfortunately, I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

“You’re gonna do great! You’ve been preparing for this for a long time.”

The door buzzer goes off and ah fuck, he’s here. You glance down at your watch. He’s thirty minutes early. 

“It’s now or never,” Kendall sighs, “I’ll go get him for you.”

You nod and take a deep breath. Dana leaves the studio to grab Josh, your other producer, to finish getting the equipment set up while you head to the bathroom to make sure you’re still looking presentable. You did just eat lunch, after all, gotta make sure nothing’s in your teeth. You pop a mint and head back into the studio to wait where Detective Rockford appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame with a slight smirk on his face. His eyes are fixed on your legs but they snap back up to yours when you take a step towards him and say, “Detective Rockford! It’s so nice to meet you.”

You hold out your hand to shake his and he accepts, resting his other hand on top of yours. No shoulder holster but he’s wearing black pants, black boots, and a white button-down shirt that’s just a little too tight. It doesn’t look bad, though. It just accentuates his chest and his biceps. 

“Please. Call me Tim,” he smiles. 

“Of course, Tim. Thank you so much for coming on the show.”

“Well, thank you for having me. It’s an honor.”

“I think we’re all set to record if you’re ready.”

“All set,” he smiles. 

You lead him back to the recording table where he takes a seat across from you. Kendall and Josh are on the other side of the glass, wearing their headsets and giving the green light to start whenever you’re ready. 

“Hello everyone and welcome back to another episode of MysteryMondays.mp3! I’m joined by a special guest today, Detective Tim Rockford! Thank you so much for coming on the show, Tim.”

“Thanks for having me. I was excited when your team reached out to me.”

He’s probably just saying that to be polite but it made your heart jump a little, the thought of him getting excited to be on your show. 

“So Tim, tell us what’s been like to be the lead detective on what the internet has dubbed the Grandma Ursula case?”

“Extremely busy. There’s been lots of ups and downs in this case. I can’t even tell you how many leads I’ve looked at.”

“This case started with a disappearance, right?”

“Ursula herself went missing for roughly thirty days. But we now have information that leads us to believe that she faked her disappearance.”

You want to glance down at your show notes but you resist, doing everything in your power to keep your eyes locked onto Tim’s warm brown gaze. 

“And now she's a suspect in the murder of Darius Cage?”

“She’s actually been charged with the murder.”

“Oh yes, that’s right! The trial is set to begin in three weeks.”

“Mhm.”

“You’re about to get even busier,” you joke. 

“I am. You’re lucky you snagged me when you did,” he says, shooting you a wink. 

Fuck. 

The rest of the interview goes smoothly without any hiccups. You barely had to use your show notes and Tim proved to be a natural in the recording studio. One thing you noticed about him is that he’ll maintain eye contact with you and then all of a sudden his gaze shifts down to your lips, watching them as they move before locking his eyes back with yours. He did that several times throughout the interview. 

You’re just about to wrap up today’s recording session before you hit him with one final question. 

“So what do you think Ursula was doing with all those knives?”

“Ask me again in a few weeks,” he says, winking at you again. 

That fucker. 

“Well, thanks for tuning in to this week’s episode of MysteryMondays.mp3! Be sure to subscribe to us on Spotify and Apple Podcasts. And thanks again to Detective Rockford for joining us! See you next week everybody!”

“And that’s a wrap!” Kendall says. 

“Great episode guys. You talked for almost three hours!” Josh says. 

You and Tim look at each other and laugh. 

“Oops,” you say. 

You check your watch and it’s pushing five o’clock. Everybody should be going home soon. 

“I could’ve sat and talked to you for another three hours,” Tim chuckles. 

You feel your cheeks go hot at his words. You glance over at Kendall and Josh and then back down again at your watch. 

“Why don’t you guys go home? I’ll lock up for the day.”

“Are you sure?” Kendall asks. 

“I’m sure. I don’t want to keep you guys any longer. Tell Dana she can go home, too.”

Her face shifts into a smirk and she says, “Okay. Let me know when you’re home,” before grabbing her stuff. She shoots you another knowing look and a wave before disappearing through the doorway with Josh. 

And now it’s just you and Tim, alone in the studio. It makes your stomach all swirly being here alone with him but you know nothing’s going to happen. You rise from your chair and get ready to pack up for the day but Tim stops you. 

“I meant what I said.”

“Oh really?” 

“Mhm. Stay and talk for a bit.”

“Okay,” you smile, sitting back down. You scooch your chair in closer and place your elbow on the table, resting your head in your hand. 

You spend God knows how long talking about your career and his, cracking jokes, and having a good time. Throughout the conversation, you’re inching closer and closer to each other. He keeps doing that thing where his eyes drift from your eyes down to your lips and back up. You can’t take it anymore. He has to be flirting with you, right?

Something comes over you and you just… You lean forward and kiss him. He’s stunned at first but he melts into your touch. But reality sets in for you and you pull away, profusely apologizing. 

“Oh my God?? I’m so sorry. That was unprofessional of me. I’m-”

“Took you long enough.”

“Huh?”

“Honey, there were several times I thought you were gonna do that during the interview.”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb, honey. I know you want me. The feeling’s mutual.”

Your brain is short-circuiting, unable to form a complete sentence. And he can sense that, leaning forward and continuing to kiss you. Part of you wants to stop, telling yourself that this is a bad idea. It’s unprofessional and bad for your career on so many levels. But the pleasure-driven part of you is telling you to keep going, telling you to fulfill your fantasy. 

His large hands caress your face and the kiss grows more passionate. He nips your bottom lip with his teeth and a small moan escapes your mouth. He moves along your jawline, stopping at your ear. 

“I bet you want me as bad as I want you,” he whispers, his warm breath tickling your ear.

“Mhm,” you respond, your voice breathy and high-pitched. 

“On the table, honey,” he says. 

You do as you’re told, rising from your chair and lying down on the table in between the microphones. Your legs hang off the edge and Tim hikes up your skirt, spreading your thighs apart. He sinks to the floor, pushing your panties to the side. His breath tickles you again as he marvels at how wet you are already.

“So wet already, huh? Just from sitting and talking to me? That’s all it takes?”

You feel your chest and the tips of your ears heat up in embarrassment but it doesn’t last long because he licks one long, slow stripe up your cunt. He moves his tongue to your clit, swirling circles around it as he hooks his arms around your thighs. He’s flush against your face as he eats you out, your wetness coating his face thanks to you writhing against him. In no time, you’re coming against his face, back arching up off the table. He hums into you as he tastes your release, lapping up every last drop.

“Fuck, honey. You taste so good,” he praises, coming up by your face after you’re done coming.  

“Th-thanks,” you breathe out. You catch your breath for a moment before realizing… You have to suck his cock, like now.

You sit up from the table, prompting him to ask, “What are you doing?”

“In the chair, Detective,” you smirk.

He catches your drift and undoes his belt before sitting in his chair. You rest on your knees, unzipping the fly of his pants and pulling his already hard cock out. 

You waste no time, swirling your tongue around the head, just slow enough to drive him insane, before taking his length in your mouth. He curses under his breath, returning his hands to each side of your face like he did when he was kissing you earlier. You wrap one hand around the base of his cock while you bob your head up and down, feeling him grow even harder in your mouth. 

“Fuck,” he curses, louder than before. 

“But not so fast, honey,” he says, pulling your mouth off of him, “Gonna cum in that sweet pussy of yours.”

You nod eagerly, getting up off the floor and bending over the table without being told to do so. 

“Good girl,” he praises, situating himself behind you. He aligns himself with your entrance and enters you slowly, grabbing your hips with his hands. 

He thrusts in and out of you unforgivingly, his cock stretching your walls. Soon enough the studio is filled with the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin. 

“Fuck, honey. You’re so wet,” he moans, slamming into you harder on the last word.

“Fuck, Tim. You’re so big.”

“Mmm, I bet you like that. You like me stretching you out?”

“Fuck, yes!” you cry out, feeling the head of his cock, brush against your cervix.

You’re on the edge of orgasm but you knew you weren’t going to last long. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you whine.

“Let me feel it, honey.”

Your walls flutter around him and tears spring in the corners of your eyes. It’s hard to believe this is even happening, right in your studio. But it is and it’s intense. Your orgasm triggers his own and he paints your insides with his release. When you’re both done coming down from your high he pulls out of you, standing up straight and putting his cock away.

“That was… amazing,” you breathe out, standing upright and smoothing down your skirt.

He nods and goes in to kiss you. You’re feeling awkward all of a sudden, not knowing what to say. 

“Well, uh, the episode will be up on Monday.”

“Really? You’re talking business now?”

“Listen! What do you want me to say?”

“How about “I’d love to see you again, Tim”?” he smirks.

“Of course, I’d love to.”

“Much better,” he says, kissing you again.

You go to lead him out of the studio but before you leave you check the equipment to make sure everything’s powered off. And that’s when you notice something strange. There’s the audio file of you’re interview but there’s also another file that’s still ongoing.

“Oh my god.”

“What?”

“The mics were on the whole time.”

He bursts out into laughter meanwhile you’re horrified. You stop the recording and without thinking you grab a thumb drive and move the file onto it. 

“What are you doing?”

“Moving this so no one else listens to it.”

“Ah, our dirty little secret.”

“Emphasis on secret.”

He laughs again. “Don’t be so serious. That’s kinda hot you have that.”

You take a deep breath and he kisses your temple.

“Come on, sounds like you need a drink to loosen up.”

You take him up on his offer, locking up the office before meeting him at a bar downtown. The evening ends with you having sex with him again. But when you part ways the next morning he tells you, “I’d love to come back on the show again.”

“I’d like that, too,” you nod.

You exchange numbers, kiss him goodbye, and head home, thinking about what you’re going to tell Kendall when you see her on Monday. Or maybe you won’t tell her. It is your dirty little secret after all. 

-

Monday rolls around and you still haven’t said anything to Kendall. You’re pretty sure she left the equipment recording on purpose but you pretend to know nothing when she shoots you a knowing look and a smirk.

But it’s the afternoon now and the episode’s just dropped. 

As soon as it’s live you get a text from Tim reading:

Can’t wait to listen to the show. Maybe we can listen to our own episode sometime this week after drinks xx

Yeah, you’re definitely seeing him again this week. 

End note: I said to myself several times while writing this “I can’t believe I’m writing Merge Mansion fanfiction rn” 😭😭😭

Follow @beskarandblastersfics and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post a new fic!

@wannab-urs @pamasaur @yazsos @drewharrisonwriter @victorian-cherub @dugiioh @sweetercalypso @janaispunk @patti7dc @clawdee @rav3n-pascal22 @catchallfangirl @chronically-ghosted @glycerinrivers @pr0ximamidnight @tinygarbage @mattmurdockslickableabs @joelscurls @yorksgirl @khindahra @jellybeanxc @fishingforpike @morgaussy @50h5 @ihyperfixateoncharacters @femalienchic @polishedtaylor @lovely-ateez @princesatracionera @pascalpvnk @houseofhyde @anoverwhelmingdin

#tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #merge mansion #tim rockford smut #pedrostories

[stealyourblorbos]

For all the Tim Rockford girlies - y’all are just wonderful. Stay creative ♡

PS: if anyone caught the references, I’m kissing the tips of  your fingers.

#tim rockford #merge mansion #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanart #javier peña #marcus pike #marcus moreno #pedro pascal characters #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #Fanart #digital drawing #comicart #fancomic #fanart by poison

[ozarkthedog]

summary: tim fucks you in the back of his squad car.

warnings: 18+ mdni. not overtly filthy. just a possessive, stressed out detective.

author's note: with all the tim content being reblogged lately, i had to write a little something.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

It was hurried, messy, and vulgar.

Your hands press against the windows of Tim’s squad car, leaving fog-stained prints as a rush of hazy delirium surges and fills your brain. Your head hangs heavy, swaying with every brutal shove of his hips as he thrusts his cock deeper into your soaked core. 

Cramped and unromantic, yet recklessly needed. 

Tim never stops. Once he sets his mind to something, he follows through. End of story. Much like the murder case he was in charge of. Long days turned into late nights. Tim was stretching himself thin, desperate to catch the killer before they struck again; stress consumed him.

You knew he needed to clear his mind, let loose, so to speak, and unravel the ties that kept him bound.

He splays his weight over your spine, bending you in the tight confines of the car and kneeling precariously on the leather seats meant to bring criminals to justice. His chin hooks over your shoulder, and a fractured breath fans across your cheek before he playfully nibbles your jaw. 

The leather holster that frames his broad shoulders creaks with every voracious movement. He can’t get enough. He wants to bury himself as deeply as possible, taste and feel every inch you offer.

Large hands paw hungrily at your body, frantic and greedy as he cants his hips roughly, spearing you in half. 

Slick drips down your thighs as his pace falters. Your cunt swirls and hugs his cock, dragging him to the edge with every lewd moan that falls from your tongue as your pleasure mounts.

He sucks in a sharp breath as pleasure envelops him. Worn hands latch onto your hips as his body tenses, and a depraved groan rumbles through his chest. Half moons decorate your skin as he pumps you full of his release. Like a good detective, he needs to see this through. He doesn’t stop until you’re gasping and writhing against him, and your body is taut from the insatiable bliss.

#tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #pedro pascal #merge mansion

[iamasaddie]

hangry

paring: Tim Rockford x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI) word count: 3k~ summary: You and Tim get stuck in a shitty motel in the middle of nowhere with only one bed to share.

warnings: one bed trope kinda but it's not the center of the fic; explicit sexual content (don't wanna ruin the surprise with too descriptive tags); talk of food, mentions of eating; age gap (Tim is twice the age of the reader, but reader's age is not specified); no use of y/n.

a/n: an absolute gem @beefrobeefcal once (last fucking year but i'm as fast as a snail in a coma) suggested to write fics using the prompt "Wait, why didn't you tell me you had a bag of those?" and I rolled with it. Here's the result! also it wouldn't have been as pretty as it is without the help of the loveliest @noxturnalpascal who helped me correct all of my silly mistakes!

MY MAIN MASTERLIST

“This is some fucking bullshit.” Detective Tim Rockford threw his case to the floor, still catching his breath from climbing four floors up. 

“Don’t be so negative, Detective Rockford, at least we have a bed.” You chuckled, looking around the poorly furnished room. Wallpaper that was yellow from time, and not because of a designer’s choice; two uncomfortable looking armchairs with a small coffee table straight from the 70s between them; a TV with a “not working” sign attached to it with a sticky tape; and the bed, that caused most of the controversy between you and your new partner. The bedspread was a tacky shade of orange, causing you to scrunch your nose and pray that it was at least changed once this week.

Apparently, a small town in the middle of nowhere couldn’t keep a cafe open in the middle of the night even if it was a crime scene, and yet it had a fully booked motel straight from Lovecraft’s novels. The yellow glow of the bedside lamp cast a sickly light over the room, adding to the stark feeling of isolation. You did suspect that the bookings were a total lie and the tired looking owner just didn’t want to clean two rooms after your inevitable check out in the morning. You didn’t tell Tim about your suspicions, though.

The man was still standing next to the front door, both of his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. 

“No fucking cars in the parking lot, and yet they’re fully booked. They think I’m that stupid. Fucking lazy ass people.”

You just groaned in response and kicked the armchair before throwing yourself on the bed. 

“Oh for Christ’s sake, Rockford, stop being such a wuss. If you’re so scared about your virtue I can sleep on the floor.” You pointed at the raggedy carpet, but hoped he wouldn’t accept your offer. After spending 6 hours in a car you wanted nothing more than to take a shower and slip into bed. In some ways, you were even glad you had to postpone your crime scene investigation until the next day. 

Tim just huffed and shook his head. He picked up his case where he’d thrown it and placed it on one of the armchairs instead, disposing his trench coat on top.

“You wanna head to the shower first?” The man asked, easing his tie with one hand and pointing to the only other door with his head. 

“No, you go,” your stomach grumbled and you remembered something that made you curse inwardly with annoyance. “I forgot something in the car, gonna run down and back.”

“Poor thing,” he said plainly, his intonation not showing an ounce of care, “I would leave it there, if I were you.”

“Of course you would,” you looked him up and down, his broad shoulders tightly bound in the gun holster, following lower where his white shirt was straining along his soft, slightly protruding belly, and lower still to his thighs in his usual black slacks. Tim cursed every living and dead being on his way up, and when you heard his knees pop you felt genuinely sorry for him, even though you felt your mouth fill with saliva as his buttocks flexed right in front of your face. 

Tim coughed, and as your eyes came back to his face you saw one of his eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline.  His raised brow revealed his bemusement, making you realize that your  hunger, that went beyond just food, had been so consuming that you had become lost in your thoughts and your lingering. He shook his head and disappeared behind the creaking door that led to the bathroom. 

The only thing that rained on your parade as you ran to the car Tim drove was exactly that - rain. You tugged your thin jacket tighter around yourself, feeling the cold wetness already seeping through it. 

“Bingo! Here you are.” You drew two celebratory fists in the air and then tugged the crinkling bag from under the car’s backseat. It must’ve fallen while you were on the road and for a moment you had a scare that you just imagined taking the thing with you. You pressed your treasure to your chest as you quickly returned to the room you left moments ago. 

Rockford was nowhere to be seen when you sat on the edge of the bed, your soaked through jacket and jeans disposed of on the vacant armchair. Your much less formal attire that you wore to work finally did you good, and you tugged your oversized t-shirt a bit lower as you rummaged the plastic bag you brought for the thing you wanted most. A brightly colored pack of mini-waffles warmed your heart almost as much as the memory of your first kiss with your high school crush. Anticipating the sweetness on your tongue, you opened the pack in a hurry, fully tuning out everything else. You didn’t hear the water in the shower stop, or the wet sound of Rockfords bare feet closing in on you. A sudden wave of relaxation washed over you as you bit into the soft, buttery waffle, indulging in its delightful sweetness. Just as the flavor exploded in your mouth, a voice startled you from behind. 

“Wait - why didn’t you tell me you had a bag of those?” 

Your head snapped in the direction from where the voice was coming, and you almost choked on the sweet delight. Tim was wearing a big towel wrapped around his hips, letting the water droplets fall from the curled strands of his hair and travel down his chest. You followed one drop that slowed down on the slope of his belly, and then went even faster over the soft curve, hiding into the soft fabric. 

You weren’t sure if you already forgot what Tim asked or you didn’t hear it from the beginning, so you just made an uncertain sound between ‘huh’ and ‘why’, still chewing on your waffle.

“I asked you if you had anything to snack on, and you said ‘yeah, there are some mini waffles left in the bag.’” Your partner looked way angrier than the situation called for, confusing you even further.

“So?”

Tim looked at you like you had grown out a second head. His eyebrows couldn’t decide whether to frown or to jump up, making him look funny. “So I did the gentlemanly thing and left those for you because I thought you’d get hungry again pretty soon!”

“Aww, you’re so sweet when you want to be, Detective.” You didn’t think a grumpy old man like Tim Rockford would be so attentive to small details like that. You felt your cheeks warm up, teasing him was only a way to not embarrass yourself, because you knew that you were two or three sentences away from making a lovesick fool out of yourself. Well, you didn’t love love him, but it was hard not to develop a crush on the man.

“I was fucking starving and you had a full bag of snacks that you didn’t tell me about?” He stepped closer to the bed, his eyes dropping to where your naked thighs were pressed together.

“Uhh… I just didn’t think?” You shrugged your shoulders, feeling the wave of fresh warm smell coming from Tim. Was he still hot after the shower or was it his normal body temperature? It was definitely higher than a normal human’s. You felt the urge to stretch your hand and place it where his tummy moved with his breathing until you heard stern muttering.

“You never fucking do.”

“Hey!” Your hand dropped to the mattress, pushing you out of your trance. “That’s not true!”

“Give it here,” it was Tim’s turn to stretch out his hand, pointing towards the opened bag of waffles clutched in your left hand.

“Not until you say you’re sorry and that you were wrong.” You didn’t actually need him to apologize, you knew he was tired and you were quite used to him being mildly rude and snappy when he was in a bad mood (which was 95% of the time you spent together). But having something that he so desperately wanted - even though it was something as ridiculous as a half-empty bag of mini waffles - made you giddy with power. 

“Not in a million years, now give me the mini waffles.” His knees bumped into the edge of the bed, his hand almost gripping your arm, but you were quick enough to pull the snack away. “Stop being a child.”

“Stop being a dick,” you said nonchalantly and shrugged your shoulders. “That's all you did for the last seven hours.”

“Give me the goddamn waffles!” He surged forward, miscalculating his movements and his size and ending up falling on top of you with his whole body, pressing you into the bed with his chest and stomach while his hand traveled up, finding the waffle that spilled out of the opened bag on top of the bedspread. He shoved the tiny snack in his mouth, moaning in satisfaction as the sweetness hit his tongue. You could barely stop yourself from accompanying him with your tiny whimper. 

“Oh, so you were just hungry,” you whispered, breathless. Your eyes watched as his jaws clenched and unclenched savoring the food before he swallowed soundly. You were very aware of his curious eyes searching for something on your face and you hoped he would find it. The heavy weight of him on top of you was pleasant, and you moved your hips up, your already moist panties crushing into the stiffness beneath the towel with the motel’s initials on it. Apparently it was the only thing Tim needed, the sweet smell of waffle that still lingered on his lips and tongue becoming more apparent as he brought his face closer to yours.

“Yeah, and I’m not full yet.”

His lips crashed into yours before you could even process it. The gentle vanilla flavor of the waffles made Tim’s taste sweeter than you could ever imagine. Your tongue as if having a mind of its own found a way between Tim’s lips, collecting every bit of sweet taste mixed with something very Tim. Your lips fought for dominance, as he squeezed both of your hands in one of his above your head. Your kiss was akin to a science project, the chemical reaction when both of your tastes mixed caused your brain to shut down. It wasn’t something you dreamed about every night, but as soon as you got it you knew you wouldn’t be able to leave. 

Tim’s lips freed yours, hasty kisses covering your jaw and neck as he hiked up your t-shirt, leaving you in a sports bra that didn’t match your panties neither in color nor in style. He didn’t seem to care, eyeing your tits with hunger.

“Up,” he growled, and you didn’t need to be told twice. You awkwardly slid up until your head hit the pillow. You waited for Tim to join you, but he had other plans. His hands grabbed your ankles, almost throwing your legs apart as he laid between them, getting comfortable with his face right in front of your pussy. You knew he could feel the hotness exuding from you, he didn’t take his eyes from the wet spot between your legs as he let his thick thumb travel up and down your slip, teasing you through the damp material.

“Never knew I had such a sweet tooth,” he grinned, before replacing his finger with his nose, the tip pushing into you harder and eliciting a moan from somewhere deep inside of you. Tim moaned in response, inhaling lungs full of your smell. He swiped his nose up and down a few more times before you couldn’t handle the teasing anymore, deciding to get rid of your panties yourself. 

When your hands traveled to do just that, Tim noticed it, biting your thigh and humming in disapproval. “You need to learn how to be patient, sweetheart.”

“You’re the one to talk,” you huffed out of breath, still remembering the fit he threw over the waffles. Tim’s head lifted up and he looked into your eyes, for a moment you were ready to apologize, unsure if you said something wrong. However, that night detective was full of surprises. He nodded, giving you a little smirk.

“You’re right,” his eyes never left yours as his hands made quick work of ripping the simple cotton of your panties apart and throwing what was left of them somewhere to the floor, “I am quite impatient.”

Instead of reply, a ragged moan dripped from your lips as his tongue licked a fat stripe along your slick pussy. Tim’s movements were confident, and didn’t lack the hungry passion that you saw in his eyes a moment ago. His tongue concentrated on your clit, flying around it in tight circles. You felt like the warmth of his mouth on your pussy made even your bones feel like red-hot iron. With trembling hands you gripped still damp strands of his hair, unsure if you wanted to press him harder into yourself or push him away with the amount of unfiltered pleasure he gave you. When the tip of his tongue played with the hood of your clit, exposing the throbbing bud to the pleasurable torture, your legs clasped together, thighs crashing Tim’s head between them. Though the man devouring your pussy was clearly happy with it, his hands quickly pushed your thighs apart. As he lifted his head up for a moment, you saw that the lower part of his face was drenched with his saliva and your arousal, and your thighs twitched again when he licked his lips with a pornographic moan. 

With his left hand still squeezing your right thigh and pressing it into the mattress, his right gave your burning pussy a slap, that ripped a choking breath out of you.

“Keep ‘em open, you don’t want me to tie you up, do you?”

You weren’t sure because there wasn’t an immediate ‘no’ in your head, instead, you felt a new gush of arousal seeping from your pulsing hole. Noticing your visible reaction, Tim raised an eyebrow, “interesting. But not tonight.”

He dived back into your pussy without any other comments, his fingers pushed your pussy lips apart and his mouth found your clit once again. His tongue slid further down without letting the pressure off your clit when the tip found your entrance. 

You wailed shamelessly when the thumb that was helping keeping your pussy spread open replaced Tim’s tongue on your nub as the wet muscle fucked into your hole. He lapped and licked into your welcoming cunt, the more of your arousal seeped on his tongue the deeper and more animalistic were the sounds he made.

In your desperate attempt to reach pleasure you didn’t notice Rockford’s hips rut into the mattress beneath him with cruel abandon. He moved his hips in perfect sync with the push of his tongue and the circling motion of his fingers. The pressure on his cock wasn’t ideal, but with the accompaniment of your taste and smell enslaving his senses it was enough to drive him further and further down the road to his own orgasm. You threw your hands to your face, squeezing your eyes shut and biting your fist under the relentless abuse of Tim’s mouth and fingers. Every grunt he made resulted in vibrations that started at the soft skin of your pussy and traveled straight to your brain, spreading the pleasure all over your body in shocking impulses. You felt possessed as your body thrashed with upcoming orgasm, every lick to your core was akin to an electrical charge. Your hands fell apart, hitting the mattress as a cry left you hoarse and breathless when one of the most powerful orgasms you’ve ever felt hit you. You were half out of your mind to stop Tim from continuing grinding his face into your pussy and licking up your release without the previous finesse as his body started shaking as well. When the grunts stopped shaking the room, his head fell limp between your legs, hairs tickling the naked skin of your sensitive pussy. 

“I need to take a shower again,” he murmured, before placing a wet kiss on your sweaty thigh.

“So, when am I getting my treat?” You laid together in bed, now on the same face level. Your body was still recovering from your orgasm, but your mind was greedy for more. Your hand lightly caressed Tim’s soft belly on the way down. The fresh towel was hiding his cock that wasn’t fully hard yet. Tim shuddered with oversensitivity when you gently squeezed the promisingly fat shaft. 

“Give me a few moments, darlin’. You’re undeniably sexy, but my body’s twice as old as yours.”

You kissed his shoulder, placing your head on the same spot afterwards and letting your finger trace patterns on his skin. You were satisfied, and happier than you’ve been in a while, you didn’t care how long it took him to recover as long as he’d still want to fuck when it happened.

“Maybe we’ll both wake up for a midnight snack,” you murmured in Tim’s neck, biting the soft spot a little.

Tim’s voice was a bit out of breath, and he tried to keep it even-pitched as he spoke. You felt his hand travel to your buttock and squeeze the meat. “I always crave something sweet in the middle of the night,” he half-whispered, placing a kiss on top of your head.

please leave a comment and reblog if you liked this fic!

#iamasaddie fic #tim rockford x female reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford fic #tim rockford smut #pedro pascal fanfiction

[covetyou]

some good friend - pt. 1

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3

pairing: Tim Rockford x Soft Dom!Sex Worker!f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: pegging, anal fingering, praise kink, mild glove kink, very mild feminization, masturbation, Tim has body image issues and a bit of an identity crisis, kind of coming untouched, sex work, comfort word count: 7k summary: Nerves were coiling in his belly in a way they typically only did at the end of a big case. There was no judge or jury here, no sentence, no surprise acquittal. There was just your door, and the promise of everything that lay beyond it. And it made him nervous.

A/N: finally, my boy Tim sees the light of day. I've been working on this for a while, and it's been nice to try something a little different. I hope you like it (and someone, anyone, please, stop me from making this a 3 part series too late, it's going to be a series)

divider by @saradika-graphics follow @covetedfics and turn notifications on for updates on future fics

Everything burns. His lungs, his legs, his goddamned feet.

He wasn't made for this. Not any more. His fucking shoes definitely weren't made for this - a fact made more and more obvious with every harsh, sharp, slap of his soles against the ground. Gone were the days of intense foot chases. They'd long since been replaced with hours spent at his desk, in interview rooms, searching the stacks in the archive room. The only saving grace was at the very least he was accustomed to low light - the dimly lit rooms he frequented coming in handy now as he thuds along in the semi-darkness, chasing after someone who is more shadow than man.

The drizzle of a cold October day certainly isn't helping either. He's coated in a fine mist of rain and soaked through to the marrow. His shoes - these fucking shoes - skid on the wet road, threatening injury with each turn of a corner. Every intake of breath blooms pain in his chest, each gasp seeming to draw in more water than air. That is, of course, if the biting chill of the wind doesn't swipe it all out of his mouth first.

He's drowning. Drowning and suffocating and burning all in one, but he can't stop. He can't will his legs to stop, even through the burn. Stopping means he loses, and he cannot lose. Not again. Not with this case.

But then, he turns a corner and the shadow is gone, faded into the darkness of an unlit alley, and out of his grasp once again.

Shit.

The ache is settled well into his bones by the time he gets home in the early hours of the morning. His tie sits damp in his jacket pocket - discarded at the roadside in a fit of rage and stomped into the wet ground, only to be picked up and pocketed a moment later. He liked that tie. His holsters tug uncomfortably at his shoulders, the twist of his body as he was running having shifted them to where they now pinch uncomfortably at his underarms. He can't wait to discard it all, to take off the whole damn lot - and these fucking shoes - and pretend for just one moment that he's not who he is.

So, he begins to shed the skin of Detective Tim Rockford.

The shoes go first. The jacket second. And then he removes his gun, stashing it in its case where it belongs and throwing his holster at his closet, where he'll no doubt struggle to find it again tomorrow. The burning sear of a shower is the last thing left to rid himself of the title that hangs over him, but instead he walks to his office. He needs to be Detective for just a moment longer.

It's tidier and more comfortable in here than it has any right to be. Dark wood, soft leather, neat folders, and blank papers. Of course, it's neat because he's rarely here to use it, preferring to use the space given to him downtown where a plaque sits on his desk telling all and sundry that Detective Tim Rockford works here. Here, in this room, he can be a little less Detective and a little more him.

He flops heavily into his chair, a move he immediately regrets when he feels the relief of taking the weight off his feet. How he'll ever get up from here, he doesn't know. Maybe he'll sleep here. Halfway between Detective and himself, stuck in some weird limbo where he is both and neither all at once. That'll lead to some good dreams.

Tim thinks of you. This was the place for that kind of thing, after all. This office where he is himself and someone else, the perfect parts of a person to be liaising with someone like you. Because that's what it was with you, a liaison. Nothing more, nothing less. And you, everything that you were, were his last chance for some good news before he peeled back the rest of the Detective and became himself for a few blissful hours.

Pulling a card from a drawer, he flips it in his fingers once, then twice before tapping it on his desk. You'd given it to him on his last visit - your address and number emblazoned on the front, both things he no longer needed to see to know, and a small list of services on the other side. Services that he ignored when you'd first pointed them out to him with a wink, but that he'd since spent a long time mulling over and, on occasion, searching in an incognito window of his browser.

With a heavy sigh, he picks up the phone, dialing your number from memory, and waits for you to pick up. Anyone else would be furious with a 4am phonecall, but not you. For a while he thought it was what suited your work best - common sense, and his years on the job, had taught him that illicit activities so often were better suited to darkness than daylight. But he'd seen clients leave your studio in the middle of the day on more than one occasion. No, by this point he simply suspected you didn't sleep at all.

A click of the call connecting, a soft breath down through the line, and there you are, the lilt of your voice ringing through his ear like music.

"Detective Rockford, how nice of you to call. What can I interest you in this fine morning?"

He pinches his nose, card still gripped tightly between his middle fingers. You did this every time, no matter the time of day or night. You were always on, always ready to try to rile him and get into his bloodstream. He'd admonished you once, told you he was only trying to do his job and he expected you to do the same. When you told him you were doing your job, Tim had to admit you got him there. You were both professionals, just in very, very different ways. From then on, he'd learned to appreciate it. Even if it did make him ache sometimes in ways he thought best to ignore.

"You got any news for me?"

You scoff down the phone. A light sound, but he can picture you rolling your eyes with it anyway. "Always so charming, Detective. Diving straight in without any foreplay at all. You can do better than that. Sweeten me up a little before you -"

"Please."

He sounds desperate in a way you haven't heard before. A year into your arrangement and he'd never sounded so bone tired and stressed out. You can even hear the pinch in his brow over the phone, the wrinkles there getting deeper and deeper the longer you knew him.

"It's been quiet, Detective. I doubt I have the names you're after, but a few whispers have been floating around. The case with the cat still causing you problems?"

From the heavy sigh he gives you can tell it's not what he was after, but that it is, indeed, still causing him problems.

"Well, I heard that..."

And so, you divulge your secrets, secrets that aren't really yours to have or to give, but you give them anyway. Whispers and names softly delivered down the phone line where he scribbles them down on a blank sheet of paper, careful not to indent the pages below it.

The pen clatters to the desk when you finish. You both know you haven't given him what he needs, but if Tim's honest with himself he isn't always sure what he needs from you any more. Though, he knows what he wants. Yes, he's frequently made painfully aware of what he wants.

"Anything you need?" he asks, his voice sounding tight with frustration. You can't blame him any more than you can hold back the laugh that trickles from your lips.

"Nothing right now. Here I was thinking that was my line anyway, Detective. The things I could do for you, if you'd let me."

Tim's eyes are drawn to the card again, now face up on the desk beside the scrawl of information you'd just given him. Truth be told, your services are as emblazoned in his mind as the details on the front of the card. Sometimes, like right now, he could barely get that list out of his mind long enough to think straight.

That's the moment when, after a long day at the end of an even longer week, part Detective but part just him, he gives in to what he's been fighting himself for for almost a year, and clears his throat.

"Like what? What... what exactly could you do for me?"

You're caught between surprise and glee, briefly straightening where you lounge in your chair. Softening back into the plush fabric, you dance a finger across your lower lip, wry smile tugging at your mouth as you think of the very many things you could do for him.

"Oh, Detective Rockford. I thought you'd never ask."

Nerves were coiling in his belly in a way they typically only did at the end of a big case. There was no judge or jury here, no sentence, no surprise acquittal. There was just your door, and the promise of everything that lay beyond it.

And it made him nervous.

He was in half a mind to walk away, but it was too late. His knuckles had already rapped against the wood, and you were already flicking the latch on the other side, readying to let him in.

When you do he's stunned, just like he always is when he sees you. This time you're half naked, a thin robe draped over your shoulders and left untied at the front. Beneath it you're wrapped in soft mesh lingerie, your nipples visible through the fabric as you beckon him inside.

The space - your studio - was a simple office unit in an undesirable part of town, but you made it work. As funny as it felt to admit, it was familiar to him now, and there was a comfort in that that was already easing the swell of nerves in his body. It wasn't always this way, of course, that first visit being eye opening both figuratively and literally. Furniture and furnishings that were odd were now somewhat normal, and the soft, rich, scent that permeated the room was one that he now associated only with you and this place you existed within. It was a smell too, he notices, that is so much stronger today than it has ever been on any of his previous visits, and he breathes in deeply, both to savor it and to calm the last of the nerves vibrating in his core.

When you shut the door, closing off the world outside, you stand before him again, looking a picture of sultry confidence as you size him up. This wasn't something that was new. You often stood there, letting your gaze wander up and down his body, lingering in places that made him flush red as you taunted him with flirty quips he'd ignore. This time is no different, and he finds himself mesmerized by the way you toy with the ties on your robe as you eye him, fingers gliding up and down the fabric.

"Are you here on your business, or mine, Detective?" you say with a smile, drawing his gaze from your fingers to your face. It was a long running joke, something you said each and every time he visited you here, despite the answer always being the same. But today, finally, it would be different.

Tim rolls his eyes, just as he always does, but instead of replying with a curt mine, he lets a smile pull at his lips instead. "Yours."

"Music to my ears. And you still want to do this? You're ready?"

You both knew that had a double meaning. In the literal physical sense, he knows he's as ready as he could possibly be. But he still takes a moment to check in with himself, to see if going through with all of it is something that he still wants. If those whispers down the phone, whispers that had quickly turned from flirty promises to guidance, to gasps, to relief, were what he still wanted. Would it be worth it, or was it a momentary blip of weakness and want? But then he remembers that relief once again, the soothing of that ache like sitting down off of pained feet, and can only imagine how much better that will feel here, with you, in this room. He's ready.

Tim nods, prompting you to take another step forward. The smell isn't the room at all, he notices. It's you. The fragrance clinging to your hair or your skin, he's not sure, but so much stronger each time you move.

"Good," you say on your slow approach. Barely a step from him you reach out, tugging on his jacket and straightening his tie before letting your palm rest on his chest. The soft stroke of your fingers does nothing to soothe the rapid hammering of the muscle pumping in his chest cavity, but you suppose it wasn't meant to. You wanted him excited and desperate for it. He'd already shown you how beautiful he could be for you over the phone - all whines and whimpers and yes ma'am's. Now you wanted the real thing.

"Why don't you get all of this off for me."

Before now, Tim had wondered how you started these things - how you went from 0 to seemingly 100 with clients to get them in through the door and out in the allotted time frame. He hadn't expected it to be so quick, or so easy. Maybe he just hadn't expected himself to be so quick, or so easy, but he's tugging at his tie before you even move away to settle against your desk with your ankles crossed.

"That's it, Detective," you prompt, letting your robe slip from your shoulders and pool at your elbows as he stuffs the tie into his pocket. "I want to see all of you."

And he wants you to see all of him. He wants to take off everything that makes him Detective Tim Rockford right in front of you, and have you take control, tell him what to do, make his mind blissfully empty. So, first he kicks off his shoes, then he takes off his jacket. Slowly, his shirt is peeled from his body, the nerves racketing up again with each button. He doesn't look how he did 10 years ago, he was less lean and more soft than he had ever been, the middle aged spread proving to be a fact of life he couldn't escape.

You know what he's thinking as his fingers stall on the last few buttons of his shirt. You'd dealt with these insecurities before, in countless other clients. You weren't immune to similar thoughts either. But, he'd told you he wanted to let go, to give up control with you, so you nod to the remainder of his clothes and prompt again.

"Come now. Let me see."

Tim's fingers work quickly over the last buttons and pull the shirt from his broad frame just as quickly, giving no time for the nerves to take root. You voice the sound of your smile the moment his shirt is discarded and he looks up to see your appraisal. Each button had drawn your eyes down his chest, to the soft swell of his belly, and further still to the growing bulge in the front of his pants. Tall and broad and beautiful, the mass of man in front of you had the power to catch your eye even fully clothed, but now, shirtless with the promise of more on the horizon, you couldn't ignore the thrill at seeing so much of his tanned skin, littered with freckles and a soft smattering of hair.

His belt is unbuckled and off, and his fingers are pulling open the button of his pants and his fly. He doesn't look at you again. He can't right now - if he does he'll choke up and stop himself, feeling entirely inadequate offering this body of his to you. Pushing down his pants, down past soft thighs and strong calves, he steps out of them, taking his socks with them with each step, before nervously scratching at his belly.

Only then, does he look back up at you. You're enraptured, and have already pushed back off your desk, circling him to look at every inch of his body. You'd dimmed the lights slightly, as you always did for client sessions, but even in the soft lamplight he looked stunning. Your fingers trace the swell of his bicep, across his shoulder and the jut of his shoulder blade. A shudder runs down his spine as your fingers dance across it, down to the dimples at his back and over his hip before you round him again where your fingertips rest on his soft belly and the trail of hair there.

"You've been hiding all of this from me for how long, Detective?" you whisper, letting your fingers glide down further and further with each word. "It makes me wonder what else you're hiding."

Tim's cock twitches in his boxers, the thin fabric straining more and more with each passing moment under your gaze. He'd never felt so seen, so appraised, before. The way you looked at him was so easy, the shine in your eye so bright as he peeled back each layer.

"You still want this?"

It's what he said he'd wanted. Days ago now, but he'd said he wanted it and he did. He does. He swallows thickly, desperate to get moisture back into his mouth, nodding a croak of a yes.

At that, you slide the tip of your finger into the waistband of his boxers and pull, stretching the elastic a fraction before releasing, pinging it sharply against his skin.

"Then get these off too, Detective."

His boxers are on the floor a second later, his cock springing free semi-hard between his legs. Raising your hands to your face, you gasp in faux shock, hiding your very real delight behind your hands as you take in his entire naked form.

"Oh, Detective Rockford. I'm disappointed. After all this time you've been hiding that from me?" you gasp, and while Tim can't help but roll his eyes, his cock betrays him and stiffens even more at your words. You'd been through it all with him. Your services, yes, but also specifically what he wanted from you, some of which you'd discovered together on the phone that morning. This was one of those things - a thing you'd discovered on a whim, but something you both knew he would like before the words left your lips. There was a reason he was asking you for this and nobody else - Tim knew the specific brand of sordid you dealt in and, more than anything, he trusted you. Unfortunately for him, you planned on keeping exactly to your word from that call and, guiding your fingers down his bare chest, you tease closer and closer to his length.

"Tsk. Such a shame I won't be playing with it today."

Tim groans, a gasp of a thing he cuts short with a pinch of his lips. He's frowning again too, but nods, knowing that what he came here for wasn't that, but also very aware of the weight of the words you used. Not today, but not never.

Then, your robe is off and you're guiding him to the bed, where he lowers himself and leans back, watching your form as it retreats into the other room. He looks down, down at the body you'd just spent minutes looking at and enjoying, and wonders what you see that he doesn't. All he knows is he's trusted your word for as long as he's known you, and it's no different now. Whatever you see in him, you at least believe it to be true, and that alone makes it easier for him to believe himself. Before he can figure much or anything else out, you're sauntering back into the room.

In your hands you hold a few things. None of them should be surprising to him, but he still sucks in a sharp breath when he sees it - the strap you'd picked out just for him. You'd told him about it over the phone, said that you had the perfect one for him, that you could picture him beneath you taking it, moaning and shaking as you fucked him, and now there it was, exactly as you described. This was never something he felt able to ask for with anyone else, his ex-wife especially. It's true he was always married more to his job than to her, but even in the privacy of their own bedroom he had secrets and wants he could never share with her - she made that much clear early on. With you, he didn't even need to mention it first for you to suggest it to him, didn't even need to feel the heat of shame in his cheeks as he struggled to find the words for what he wanted, because there you were already with all the answers.

You settle everything beside him, letting him see the soft, slender, curve of the dildo up close for the first time, and pass him a bottle of water. Tim takes it, grateful that once again that it was another thing he didn't have to ask for, and cracks open the lid, taking a deep gulp of the cold liquid before setting it out of the way. Another day he'd wonder how it got to this - how on earth Tim Rockford got so used to suffering in silence that even thirst wasn't something he'd remedy until he was desperate. But, right now all he knows is the heat of your body and the smell of your skin as you kneel next to him on the bed, looking down at him with a smirk on your lips.

"Usually I ask people how they'd like it," you whisper, stroking gently down his neck, "but I think we both know you'd like it on your knees, Detective." You twirl your finger in the air, signalling for him to move, and like the good little thing he is, he shifts onto his hands before crawling forward slightly to perch on all fours on the bed.

You think he looks glorious; he feels so exposed - entirely naked for you while you're draped in that thin mesh he can see right through. He doesn't want to think about how he looks like this, on his knees with his ass on total display, his cock hanging low and, already, starting to leak precum.

Blunt nails drag down his back, softly scraping down his ass cheeks and the backs of his thighs. He shudders. You can see his cock where it bobs between his legs, and his balls where they hang softly just beneath the cleft of his cheeks. If he were a different client, maybe you'd give in and drag your nails across the soft flesh of them too, cup them in your palm and give them a firm squeeze, but you resist. Whatever this is doing to you, you'll deal with later. For now, this is for him and that desperate man, the Detective, who had all but begged you for information down the phone.

Grabbing at the small selection of things you'd dumped next to him, you get ready. Tim watches, eager eyes looking as you pull a black nitrile glove down your hand and snap it around you wrist, wiggling your fingers at him when you spot his gaze.

"I can tell you're excited," you say with a look down to his ass where his cock bounces hard against his belly with a tense of his muscles. "You're so ready for this too, aren't you? You've been waiting so long..."

Guiding your ungloved hand down his ass, you squeeze, gripping the flesh and pulling him apart, exposing him to your gaze. "Very pretty."

Tim huffs a laugh, not believing for a second that he is pretty at all, let alone like this, or there.

"What? You don't think you're pretty, all bent over and exposed for me, Detective? I'd argue you've never looked better."

"Right. Is this how you get all your information? Your clients must tell you all sorta things, huh? Vulnerable like this."

A swift, sharp slap is delivered to his right ass cheek, making him gasp as you tut and soothe the sting with your palm. "Ah-ah, Detective, you're off the clock. No work talk. We're here on my business now, not yours."

"Fu- Never off the clock, not in my line of work."

"And that's exactly why you're here, sweetie."

"...Yes ma'am."

There's a small delighted giggle that you just can't hold back, a sound that makes him flush, before you speak again. "Polite and pretty. Are you ready for me, Detective?"

It's then he realizes that your hand hasn't stopped its slow, steady caress of his ass cheeks, pushing and pulling him apart as you watch the tension leave his shoulders. He nods, trying not to brace himself for whatever is coming first, not hearing the click of a lube bottle through the blood rushing in his ears, but definitely feeling the cool trickle of it when it drips onto his asshole.

"That's it," you say, soothing with your ungloved hand, as your gloved one comes down to stroke the pucker of his ring. "We both know you're familiar with this feeling, Detective. Are you going to let me in here?"

The wet swipe of your finger between his cheeks almost feels like it could be cool, cold tongue with how you swirl it around and around his asshole. He tries not to curl his toes, and manages not to until he can't help but beg, a small please falling softly from his plush lips, and you immediately push, sinking the tip of your finger into his ass.

Tim groans, gripping the sheets in an effort not to surge forward and away from the gentle probe of your finger.

"Make all the noise you need to, Detective."

"Fuck."

Your finger steadily sinks into him, drawing out and in to collect more lube as you drizzle it onto his hole.

"Remember how this feels?"

He remembers. Remembers the crackle of your voice over the phone line as you told him to finger his ass. How his hands had scrambled to turn on speakerphone, the other still wrapped around his cock, jerking weakly as you whispered filthy encouragement down the line. Before even that, he remembers the nights spent in his own bed, concocting his own fantasies while he fucked his fist and fingers in tandem.

Except, your fingers feel so much different from his own, can reach places his cannot, and he's groaning with his head hung low between his shoulders before you're even knuckle deep.

Curling this way and that, you feel him from the inside out. Soothing him with a hand on his back, you can feel the deep breath he takes just as the tip of your finger collides with a spot inside him he was all too familiar with, massaging back and forth until he's a groaning mess.

"Oh, well that's a pretty sound, Detective. It sounds to me like you want another."

If he closes his eyes, he can see it, see the black of your gloved hand curled into a fist as your index finger stretches his hole. He can see already as you pull out a little, unfurl another finger, and slide it next to the first, ready to push into him again.

And he takes it, letting out a shuddering gasp, as your fingers fuck into his ass once again, scissoring in him before pushing down and beginning a slow curl against that spot again.

"There. That was easy. I think someone is enjoying this quite a bit, aren't you, Detective?"

There's no denying it, he is. The feel of your hand making him want to buckle into a heap on the bed already and you'd barely even started.

"Yeah. It's - ah fuck - it's good. That's - uh - not fair."

You'd been curling and prodding against his prostate as he tried to talk, making him garble words at you as you watch his cock get more and more engorged between his thighs. "What's not fair?" you ask, with a firmer press down into the spot, and you relish in the deep gravelly moan that grumbles from his chest, forcing his elbows to drop down onto the mattress.

When his hips buck forward, you place a steadying hand on his back, stroking soothing circles with your bare fingers over the dimples in his skin whilst your gloved ones curl into the spot again and again. Part of him is longing to reach down and grab his cock, to jerk it and come all over his fist with your fingers buried in his ass, but that's not what he's here for. Each time he opens his eyes he's made aware of what he's here for by the strap that still lays next to him. If he comes too soon, he's scared that'll be it over, the relief he was really seeking from you still totally out of reach by his own failure. He couldn't, wouldn't, fail at this too.

"Just look at you, Detective. You're getting so wet already." He is. He can feel it. His cock is dripping, beads of precum collecting on his tip and threatening to make a mess of the sheets below. Nodding and groaning and squeezing his eyes shut seem to be all he can do already, feeling like a total mess of a man with your voice like honey trickling into his ear. "So good. I think you can take one more finger. That's it, just one more. Good. Good boy."

He preens, back arching with the praise, cock definitely dripping onto the sheets now, three of your fingers curling and thrusting into his ass. He throbs, the ache of arousal thrumming through him with no relief, just building and building and building with nowhere to go, because you don't let it. You control it, each press of your fingers still so achingly slow that it can make him drip and ache but never explode.

A thin sheen of sweat is coating his body, his legs shaking, forehead pressed into the cool sheets, groans falling wantonly from his mouth, by the time you gingerly pull your fingers from him. That in itself feels like a relief, he thinks. Even though he's still painfully hard at least, for one moment, he's not being worked up and up to an edge you won't quite let him over just yet.

But the strap beside him is gone when he looks up, pushing up on shaky hands to look around for you again. Now, it sits on your hips, straps pulled taught over the mesh of your lingerie. You're pulling a condom over the length of dildo, rolling it down to the base, your glove discarded somewhere he can't see. His mouth is dry again, so he reaches for the water, swallowing deeply, wiping away an errant drop from the scruff of his beard.

He can't stop looking. Between your face, your beautiful face, your scantily clad body, your hands and those fingers that had just been inside him, the cock between your legs. He's entranced. It takes a gentle hand on his shoulder for him to notice you're talking to him.

"Look at you, Detective," you hum down to him, and all he can think is Yes. Look at me. Please. Here he was, stripped bare as a man could be, seen by you in ways he'd never been seen. And that name - a taunt coming from you that he longed for rather than loathed. Each tease of Detective a reminder that with you he could be both and neither all at once, just as he always was.

He reaches for you then. Slowly. Delicately. Fingers bridging the gap between you. Usually you'd step back, move away from grasping hands when permission wasn't granted. But, you let him touch, his fingers resting on your mesh covered hip and stroking you. It's the first time he's ever touched you, and it's so soft. You're so soft.

"You're ready for it, aren't you?" you ask, your eyes lazily dragging down to the strap between your legs where his follow.

Without word, and avoiding the mess already splattered on the sheet, he moves back to all fours, his hand leaving you cold. Slicking more lube across the strap, you kneel behind him, palming his ass with both hands, rubbing soft circles down his thighs as you gently rut against the crevasse of his ass.

"Do you trust me, Detective?"

It's a stupid question - stupid because you already know the answer, and so does he.

"You're kidding, right?" he says in disbelief, looking around to see the coy smile on your face.

"Humor me."

"Of course I do."

With his eyes still on you, you press forward, hand steadying the dildo to slip the tip into his slick asshole.

"Oh. That's it. Look at me when I fuck your ass. That feels so good doesn't it?"

Tim pants, nodding as you bear forward. The strap is barely thicker than your three fingers, but his rim still stretches and pulls as you breach him, slowly, steadily, until the entire length is buried in his ass.

"There we go. That's it. I'm all the way in. You take an ass fucking so well, Detective. Are you sure you haven't done this before?" With another roll of your hips he's gasping again, dropping his face to the sheet. The heat of his thighs are against yours and you know, you just know, that his cock is straining, his balls begging to empty already.

"There we are. That's it. You can take it. Oh, good boy. You like that don't you. You like being a good boy."

With his cheek is pressed to the mattress, you can see nothing but the pinched look of ecstasy on his face. It's boiling in his veins too, the heat spreading up his back and burning his cheeks. If he opens his eyes he'll see you, looking down with intent at his ass as you slowly roll your hips into him, and the thought alone makes him groan, brings him so close to coming that he's scrambling for purchase on the bed again, desperate gasps rattling out of him. The cloying scent of you is all over him - stuck in his lungs like molasses, each deep breath in of you coinciding with each slap of your hips against his ass until desperation turns to pleading.

"Please. P-please. Fuck. Please."

"Please what?" you say, looking around at him. And that's when you see his cock, angry and weeping, splattering cum all over your sheets. You hadn't felt him come yet, there'd been no tensing of his muscles or twitching of his cock, just a steady stream of precum dripping from him like a leaky faucet. "Oh, look at that. You're making quite the mess, aren't you, sweetie? Are you going to clean that up? Hm? Or will I have to bill the city for my laundry?"

"Oh, fu-," he pants, and you feel a shiver trickle down his back at the empty threat, his palms pressing harder into the mattress beneath him as his shoulders draw back. He's going to come. You don't even need to move, you could just talk to him in that voice of yours, call him a good boy and tell him how dirty he is and he'd be gone, skyrocketing to a place he'd never been and making a glorious mess of everything.

"What was that?" You slow down the roll of your hips, drawing him back from that edge you'd been dangling him so deliciously over.

"No. No. Don't - Fuck."

"Then you'll have to clean up your mess."

You swipe your finger through the cum that has steadily dripped from his cock and onto the sheet below, and lean forward to bring it to his lips, pressing your hips further and further into his ass. There's a sticky sheen of sweat on his back that slicks you together, and you can't resist. You kiss him. Soft lips pressing into the muscle of his shoulder, waiting for that moment he parts his lips in a voiceless moan to slip your finger inside. His tongue laves around your digit, tasting himself on the salt of your skin and he groans, vibrating desperate sounds from his chest to yours as you fuck so deep he's seeing stars.

"That's it, that's a good boy," you coo, dragging your finger from his mouth, leaving a trail of saliva across the scruff of his cheek.

"It's such a shame I have no use for your cock when it looks so pretty, Detective," You say, lifting your leg to fuck more deeply into him. "Look at it, all drippy and useless. You're going to come, aren't you? Even without touching your cock, you're going to come and make even more of a mess."

"Yes. Fuck, yes. Don't stop."

The steady slap of your hips picks up, and you're panting with exertion now too. You could've had him coming in five minutes, but that was no fun for you. You'd waited too long for this not to drag it out, not to see how long he could hold off for you, how much of a desperate mess he could be before he was begging for release. This was it. His limit. You'd found it, and his groans were suddenly impossible to ignore, shooting white hot heat into your own core, making you feel slick with want as you fucked him. You need him to come, before your need for more friction clouds your brain and you need to slip your hand between your own legs before he even leaves.

"Such a pretty ass to ruin. Come for me, Detective. Oh, fuck. Come for me."

He stops breathing. He thinks he's died. He has to have. You think you've killed him. But then his whole body tenses and he groans out a sob, biting sheets and spitting them out over and over as he comes, and comes, and comes. You don't stop, each shuddering sob of a gasp spurring you on until he's milked dry and almost prone on the mattress.

"That's it. That's it. You did it. Good boy. Well done, Detective. Well done."

He feels so soft. His bones must have turned to dust and spurted out of his cock with that final thrust of the strap in his ass. He's never been this weightless, never been this carefree. There's not an ache in him, just pure bliss, and he's so relieved he could cry.

And you're there. Pulling out of him slowly, wiping down his back, his thighs, with a damp towel, cooling him before you dry him with another, bringing water to his lips for him to drink. Pushing his hair back from his forehead, you guide him onto his back, letting him lie down and take a moments rest you know the man wouldn't take any other time. You're fairly certain he doesn't sleep. Detective Rockford works too hard because he cares too much, you know that. And you also know he doesn't care for himself. That is why he's here, even if he'd never say so himself.

"Up you get, sweetie. It's cold. Let's get something on you," you're whispering to him all too soon. Tim's lost, the concept of time gone from his body entirely, but he supposes it has been too long, his time is up. He only paid for an hour of your time, and even that seemed much more valuable than the price you'd put on it. He should go.

When he sits up he's lethargic, reaching for his clothes as he shuffles to the end of the bed. He doesn't know you're holding a robe out for him, strap discarded. He doesn't see the concern in your eyes because he suddenly can't meet them. "Should get going, I guess."

"No. You shouldn't. Stay."

Tim looks up to you then, seeing you wrapped and fully covered for the first time in the year he's known you. You're no more on the job right now than he is, he realizes, blinking in confusion at the robe you toss next to him.

"Look, I've taken up enough of your time, I don't want to overstep -"

"I'm not asking you to stay as a client, Detective. I'm asking you to stay as a friend. Stay. Talk to me." And you say it because god knows you mean it. You want him to stay and you want him to talk as much as you know he needs it, that gap he'd bridged with his hand now being bridged by you, and your simple request that he stay.

"Some friend to have."

"A good friend to have, Tim.”

“- I didn't mean - I meant me, I -”

“The point still stands either way," you say. And you mean that too. "Stay."

And that's it. There he is. Stripped back, just like he wanted. No more Detective. Just Tim. And there you are. Sitting on the blanket draped sofa, looking him straight in the eye. You don't need to look down to see him, and he doesn't need to look up to see you.

Grabbing the robe, Tim drapes it around himself, walking on unsteady feet toward you, the mess of the sheets and his life forgotten for one more second.

"Decaf? Might not have all the answers. But I do have coffee. And that's a start."

"Yeah," he says as he sits beside you. "Yeah, that's a start."

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123 @valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather @stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @corazondebeskar-reads

also a little sneaky tag if you showed interest in my snippet the other day 💛 @heareball @nerdieforpedro @missredherring @survivingandenduring

#tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x you #merge mansion #merge mansion fanfiction #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford #detective tim rockford #coveted fics

[kiwisbell]

The Impaler

Chief Detective Tim Rockford makes a breakthrough in New York City’s latest serial killer case. The mysterious culprit is in the mood to share more than information.

my masterlist!

pairing: tim rockford x f!reader x max phillips

rating: 18+ (mdni)

tags and warnings: vampires, gothic architecture, slightly dubious consent, implied mind alteration/control, murder, death, blood, threesome, lots of biting, spanking, spitroasting, masturbation, DVP, fingering, unprotected PIV (wrap ur vampire dicks pls), wife sharing, free use kink, oral sex (f and m receiving), exchanging fluids, spitting, disgusting and filthy, max using cringey nicknames for reader’s pussy but it’s charming bc it’s max, handcuffs, light bondage, hair pulling

word count: ~ 7.2k

read on ao3!

a/n: hello, my loves!! i wanted to do something special for halloween, so i decided to slap together a short, silly, unpolished one-shot inspired by dracula! this one is dedicated to my vampire obsession and tim rockford's shoulder holsters. anyway, please mind the tags, and enjoy!!

PREFACE

“No one but a woman can help a man when he is in trouble of the heart." — Bram Stoker, Dracula

“I swear to God, Ron, I’m two seconds away from taking up smoking again.”

Chief Detective Tim Rockford pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling his eye twitch minutely with every pass he makes of the cork board.  

The seventh victim in two weeks, and he’s no closer to an answer. Last night, thirty-two-year-old Dean Madison was found by the harbour, a couple shades paler than his family insisted he usually was and with two small puncture wounds in his neck. Otherwise, the coroners didn’t find a single wound on him. Before Madison, it was a couple in Central Park, and before that, a college football player. Their bodies were all found in virtually the same condition, but not one of them is related. 

Random. Unplanned acts of violence carried out exclusively at night, predicated on nothing but the apparent desire to kill. The culprit left no fingerprints, no murder weapon, no footprints. There's no motivation. 

Groaning as he stands, elder Detective Ron Lauder hands Tim a manila folder. “List of the boats going in and out last night, if you fancy makin’ your eyes cross. I gotta call it here, man. You should go home, too, get some sleep.”

Tim claps Ron on the back. “Nah, man, I gotta file these away first. You go on home.”

“Don’t come cryin’ to me when you fall asleep in your Cheerios tomorrow.” Ron leaves yawning, and Tim hears the door gently click shut in the distance, signalling a familiar solitude in the bullpen. 

The other cops know about the case. They all have bets running. Will the chief get it right? Will he get himself killed? When’s the next victim going to show? Tim indulges their morbid little fantasy pool by devoting most of his waking—and sleeping—hours to the task. 

He decides to settle in with the logs from the docks. Scanning every line item, he feels his eyelids pulling down, and takes another sip of coffee to stay awake. 

One name catches his eye. Demeter. 

Tim narrows his eyes, his gaze travelling across the page. The logs only account for the past twenty-four hours, but he's seen that name before. He sets down the file and hurries to his desk, rifling through the top drawer, setting aside his pocket knife and his gun, to produce another file labelled ???? 

Not very creative, but it’s not like he’s going to label a file My Latest Failure. He opens the folder and scours the paperwork inside for witness statements. 

There. 

Fuck—here it is. His first goddamn lead. 

On the 14th of October, a dock worker watched the Demeter stroll up to the harbour through the water and a man saunter inside, exchanging cash with the driver. The man left with a box. Because the Demeter was listed as a private vessel, the dock worker had reason for concern if the boat was conducting business without a license. He reported this to the police. 

Tim eyes the cork board, following the red thread that connect each victim. He curses. 

The next day, the boat’s driver was found dead in a Soho alleyway. Two puncture wounds in his neck. 

Jesus Christ. Tim’s fingers tremble as he turns the page to continue reading. 

If the Demeter is conducting frequent illegal business from that harbour and the client doesn't want anyone finding out, it’s likely that client is exactly who Tim is looking for. And it's even likelier poor Dean Madison was in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Give me something. A wire transfer pattern. A paper trail. A benevolent benefactor who keeps the engine running. 

Outside, the wind whistles, and Tim blinks away sleep. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a shape pass by the window, and his head jerks up. 

There's a bat hanging from the tree outside. The creature stares for a long while, near-incisive, as if telling Tim to go the fuck to sleep. He checks his watch. It’s two o’clock. 

More than enough time to head down to the docks. 

The next night, just after nine o’clock, Tim knocks on the door of a hulking mansion in Soho.

The Gothic spires of the home stretch to the wispy clouds, the moon taking up a vigil over the grand roof. Arched windows glare down at him. You are a trespasser, they hiss. You do not belong here. The door knocker is shaped like a pair of bat wings, and the ancient, ornate doors creak under the force of his pounding. Overhead, clouds continue to roll in, signalling some fall storm. A shiver racks his body. 

A woman opens the door, and Tim’s heartbeat stutters.  

You’re beautiful. Your smile is so radiant it infects your eyes, your body draped in a tiny white slip, skin so soft it seems to glow in the light. You briefly assess Tim with those keen eyes. 

“Good evening, sir,” you say. Tim licks his lips. Your voice is soft as water. 

“Good… uh, good evening, ma'am.” He forgets that he is supposed to remain suspicious and clasps his hands together in front of him. “Chief Detective Tim Rockford. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Oh,” you purr, demurely folding your hands together in a mirror action to Tim, “of course. Would you like some coffee?”

In the movement, he catches a glimmer of the golden band around your ring finger. “No. Thank you.”

Amusement twinkles in your eyes. “That’s good, because we don’t have any.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he says good-naturedly. “What’s your husband’s name?”

“Phillips,” you reply dutifully, nibbling your bottom lip. “Max Phillips.”

Fuck. 

He has the right person. He just can't help but wonder if you're a part of it, too. 

There’s not a chance. You’re too good. Too beautiful. Your eyes pull him in, waves swallowing the shore, your pupils shrinking and dilating as if speaking to him. 

“Have you seen this man?” Tim asks, presenting a picture of Dean Madison, drained of blood and neck punctured. 

You frown, but he finds no glimmer of recognition in your eyes, no evidence of an increased heart rate. “Oh, gosh, no. I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right,” says Tim. He doesn't know why he bothers, but he hides the gruesome image. He doesn't want to see you upset. 

“Am I in trouble for something, Detective?” 

Your breasts sit so nicely in that little nightgown, the line of your thighs so tempting under the hem, your skin so fucking dewy he could lick all the nectar from it. Tim blinks hard. What the fuck is wrong with him? 

“No,” he says tightly. “Just here to ask some questions. Does the name Demeter mean anything to you?”

Sheepishly, you shrug. “She's a Greek goddess.”

“She’s also a boat,” says Tim. “It’s connected to two incidents by the docks in the past couple weeks.”

“Incidents?” 

The curve of your throat would fit his mouth so nicely. You’re beautiful in the way a marble statue is—elegant and poised, carefully arranged, silk dripping like honey off your perfect fucking body. 

Tim clears his throat. His head feels foggy. 

“Do you mind if I speak to your husband?”

“Maxie?” your sweet voice calls. The sound echoes off the polished walls, petering gently to a lullaby, and Tim wants to rescue you from such a cruel place. “Maxie, there's a man at the door, and he wants to speak with you.”

A man descends the grand spiral staircase, dressed in a suit even though it’s nighttime, adjusting his cufflinks and grinning like a real schmoozer. He’s got the same dark eyes and nose and mouth as Tim, but marked by signs of youth the detective doesn't have. He’s clean-shaven, bright-eyed, lively. 

“Evening, Detective,” says Max Phillips. “Hope you haven't been giving my wife any trouble. Hi, baby.”

You beam at him, holding out your hand. Max threads his fingers through yours and pushes himself into your space, playfully nipping your earlobe. Your giggle is intoxicating. Tim wants to be the one making you smile this way. 

“Mr. Phillips, have you seen this man?” 

Phillips takes a break from crushing his nose in your throat to examine the picture. “Haven’t seen him,” he says, “but it looks like he isn’t seeing anyone.”

“Last night,” says Tim, tucking the picture away, “I went down to the docks and took a look around. You know what I found, Mr. Phillips?”

“This isn't a very fun game, Detective.” Phillips is busying himself with your hair, twirling a lock of it around his finger. You stare up at your husband like he hung the fucking moon and Tim wants to know what it feels like to earn that look. 

“I found blood,” says Tim. “Bags of blood from St. Clare’s Mercy in St. John’s. What kind of sick bastard steals blood from a hospital? I wondered. Then I checked the registration and found a name. Phillips.”

The revelation doesn't seem to faze Phillips the way it did Tim. His lips curve in a frown against your temple. “Looks like the detective knows how to do his job.”

You play with your husband’s fingers as if coaxing him to use them on you. “Didn’t mean to,” you whisper. 

“Shh, sweetheart, I know.” Max tucks your hair behind your ear, his voice so gentle. “I know you didn't mean to, baby. We all get hungry.”

Tim's nostrils flare. You’re both so indifferent to all you've done—you don't care one bit that you've killed, that you’ve left Tim and all his inferiors scratching their heads and losing sleep for weeks. 

He’s got his culprits, all right. 

What the fuck do they want with bags of blood? 

His lip curls. “Just tell me the truth. We can all work together here.”

“About that man by the docks,” you say softly, stepping forward with a placating smile on your face. “I got carried away, Detective. I never wanted to—”

Tim has heard enough. He withdraws his gun from its holster and points the barrel between your eyes. “Do not. Move.”

Your lower lip juts out in a pout, but Phillips’s eyes darken, playful veneer crumbling fast, at the sight of a gun pointed at his wife. “Now, Detective,” he says good-naturedly, though his rigid posture betrays any sense of camaraderie. “If you're gonna point that gun at anyone, it should be me.”

“That so?” Tim’s eyes don't stray from you. Your eyes are wide as a doe’s, your glossy lips parted in vague shock, your silky nightgown contoured so deliciously to your shape. You smell fresh, roses and perfume, and his head goes fuzzy. Your skin looks so soft, glowing under the orange firelight… 

He wonders how you would taste.

His finger trembles near the trigger. 

Phillips presses closer to you, his hand sliding around your waist, his fingers splaying over your ribs. Possessive. His eyes are on Tim, and that look—it peels him apart. Tim may be holding a weapon, but he feels powerless to do anything at all. 

Fear strikes him true. He should not have knocked on this door tonight. 

“You know what I like about people?” says Phillips, idly circling his thumb over your waist while his eyes fall to your pretty face, his other hand twisting your hair around his finger. “I like that they're so… hmm, supple. It's like plucking all the petals off a flower. Can see all the stuff inside with one little pull.” 

Phillips suddenly ducks his head and Tim jolts, pointing the gun his way, but the killer only places an open-mouthed kiss on your throat, just beneath your ear. 

Tim watches your eyes flutter, a sedated little smile growing on your face, and he wants to know. He needs to know what you taste like. 

“That’s more like it, Detective,” says Phillips, playfully nipping your throat before he pulls back. Tim sees a flash of glistening white as the killer bares his teeth and presumes a man as well-off as Max Phillips knows something about veneers. “I know what you want. You don't want to point that gun at my wife, do you?”

Tim’s jaw ticks. He doesn't. He doesn't want to hurt you at all. He wants to make you smile. He wants to slip his hand inside that nightgown and tear it all away to see what's beneath. He wants to put his mouth on you, touch you, do whatever you fucking want him to do. 

Phillips chuckles, and a tremor oozes down Tim’s spine. He isn't safe here—he knew this straight away—but there's more to the couple in front of him than they’re letting him know. “Mmm, she has that effect on lots of people,” says Phillips. “Can’t tell you how many men I’ve had to kill just because they decided to touch.” He pinches your ass for effect and you laugh, hiding your face in Max’s neck. 

“Is that a confession?” says Tim, gritting his teeth as another wave of your perfume pervades reason. 

“Sure,” says Phillips, “it's a confession. But I don't think you want to leave. I think you want to stay here and fuck my wife. Do I get the cash prize, Detective?”

Tim wavers. The door is… It’s right there. He’s standing just inside, could turn around and bolt the hell out of here now, could radio for backup and cuff both of these freaks in two seconds. 

He lowers the gun. 

“Thaaat’s it,” coos Phillips. “I’ll offer you a deal now. Make her feel good, and I’ll forget about you pointing that gun at her.”

Tim’s cock is stiff in his pants, blood surging downward and away from his brain, his body calling to the siren song emitting from you. He’ll drown in it. There's no turning back. Behind him, the door swings closed, untouched. 

You grin at Tim, biting your bottom lip and threading your fingers through Max’s hair. This way, you keep your husband fixed to you, nipping playfully at your throat.

“Do you want to touch me, sir?” you ask him, your voice dripping nectar. 

Tim’s jaw ticks. His head inclines in a nod. 

“No, no, no, Detective, that's no fun,” tuts Max. “Is it, baby?”

“Mmm, no fun,” you echo, the sound of it melodic, enchanting. “Want you to want it, Detective. Want you to show me you want it.”

Tim nods again, stepping closer, his eyes raking over your body in that little white slip, held in place by Phillips’ hands. 

“You're not going to touch my wife with a gun in your hand,” says Phillips darkly. “You’re going to drop it, and then you’ll clean off your dirty fingers in her pretty cunt.”

Tim flicks on the safety and sets the gun on the table just inside the foyer, shucking off his jacket. He doesn't care about the goddamn case anymore. He’s bone-tired, sick of all the overtime he's putting in with no return on investment, and so lonely that it aches. He needs a body to bury himself inside, a sweet, pretty girl to taste. He didn't expect he’d pick the woman he's been chasing for weeks. 

He approaches you slowly, taking in the entire length of your body, wondering about the texture of your hair, the softness of your skin. He gets to explore it tonight. He won't waste the chance. 

The first touch electrifies his nerves. Your skin is velvet under his rough palms, your head tilting idly to the side as your husband continues to kiss your neck. Tim caresses your arms, memorising the feel of you beneath his fingers, and lets your eyes swallow him. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

His voice scrapes over your skin and lifts goosebumps, some echo of the bodily instincts you once had in life. You practically purr as you hook your fingers in the holsters straining under his broad shoulders and tug him closer. 

“Please kiss me, sir.”

The scent of roses washes down his throat as he cups your face and slants his mouth over yours. Max occupies himself in the junction of your throat and shoulder, canines gently grazing what used to be your pulse point.  You moan softly into Tim’s mouth, and his cock reacts accordingly, twitching in his pants as he presses his body against yours to deepen the kiss. 

“Tastes so sweet, doesn't she?” Max muses, his hand squeezing your hip. “She’s picky, too. Must like you a lot.”

Tim groans as he pulls you closer, his hand warming the small of your back over the flimsy silk slip. His tongue slides along yours, his fingers threading in your hair, and he grinds his clothed cock into your hip. He eagerly swallows down your whines, consumed by how fucking good you feel against him. 

Max’s fangs begin to protrude from his gums as his tongue lavishes your throat, lapping up the sweetness rolling off your body, your hormones, the way you radiate need even though your heart does not beat. His cock prods your ass, confined in his pants, straining to find the friction he needs. You're melting, hands grasping greedily at Tim’s holsters, his button-up, trying to absolve him of his clothes. 

He’s so dizzy he can barely stay upright. He belongs right here in your shadow, kissing his way across your jaw, so caught up in the fervour of pleasing you that he doesn't notice the way your pulse does not flutter under his lips. 

“Does it feel good, baby?” says Max, his fangs close to puncturing your skin. “Is he doing his job?”

“Yes,” you whisper, lashes fluttering as Tim’s moustache scratches the sensitive skin below your ear. Your fingers curl in his tousled hair, dark and streaked with grey, signifiers of age your Max will never show. Your Max, who wants to taste you even though it doesn’t sustain him, who indulges in the sublime sweetness of your blood just because he loves it. 

Tim’s big hands trail down your body at the same time his mouth does, shifting the silk nightgown in his feverish need to feel more of you, bringing the entire thing down to the floor with him in one aggressive tug. You gasp, your nipples stiff as they're exposed to the cool air, your thighs squeezing together instinctively, watching Tim sink to his knees in front of you as if in a trance. 

“Don’t be shy, baby.” Max’s hand trails across your belly, palming at your thigh. Tim is crushing his nose into your skin as he kisses the spot where your hip meets your thigh. “You want him to taste your pretty pussy?”

“Yes, Max,” you whimper. “Yes, please.”

His lips ghost across your temple. “Don’t beg me. Beg him.” 

Your eyes dip below your body to find Tim staring expectantly at you as he scatters kisses along your belly, your thighs. His pupils eclipse those warm brown irises. “Please, Detective.” You comb his soft hair away from his forehead and bite your lip at the way his taut expression telegraphs unaltered desire. He needs this. He needs you. “Please taste me.”

It's all he wants. His big, broad shoulders ease your thighs open while Max moves to your back, letting you balance against his hard chest. The scrape of the leather holsters on the back of your thigh makes you shiver as Tim guides your leg up onto his shoulder. You’re fucking dripping for him, your pussy glistening with your own arousal, clinging to your inner thighs. Tim’s eyes shudder as he slowly licks your juices clean off your skin, his fingers dimpling flesh. 

“How’s she taste?” says Max, his hand fixing around your throat. Your hand overlaps his for a grip on reality, your other firmly wedged in the dreamworld, grasping Tim’s messy hair. 

“So fucking sweet,” growls Tim, his teeth sinking into your inner thigh, over your femoral artery. 

“Oh,” you moan, your head lolling against Max’s shoulder. “He likes to bite, Maxie.”

“A thorough detective,” purrs Max, his thumb caressing your jaw. “Hard to find that kind of dedication these days. Don’t make her wait, Rockford. She wants you; I can smell it.” 

Tim’s nostrils flare—one last breath of air before he sinks wholly under the water. His tongue darts out to part your folds, sliding languorously through your wet slit. You bite your lip at the sight of his strong shoulders wedged between your thighs, his nose pressed hard against your clit as he circles his tongue around your hole. You’re fucking nectar. It's euphoria, the indelible high he will always be searching to replicate. 

“Detective,” you sigh. 

Tim groans into your cunt, his hand coming down in a hard smack to your thigh. The sudden shock of the slap pools arousal in your core, a pitiful yelp leaving your mouth. 

“Sir!”

“The detective knows what this pretty little kitty wants,” says Max, grinning against your cheek. He punctuates his words with a playful thrust into your backside. “He knows you like it rough, honey. You like that?”

“Yes! Yes! More, please, I’ll do anything.”

Max considers this, humming ponderously into your throat. “Anything?”

Tim places an open-mouthed kiss on your needy clit, and you gasp, “Anything!”

“You got a pair of handcuffs on you, Rockford?”

It's a flurry of activity. You're transported efficiently to the couch in the living room, a gigantic jewel-green sectional, your hands bound behind you by two cold metal cuffs. Bent over the arm of the sofa, your thighs are spread, your cheek pressed into the cushion as you're shamelessly bared for the pair of them. Whining, you wiggle your hips, standing on your toes and presenting yourself for someone to make you feel good, already. 

“My poor baby.” Max is gently caressing the curve of your spine. “You said you'd do anything. You wanna break your promise?”

“No, no, I’ll be good,” you beg. “I’ll behave, please!”

“Hear that, Rockford?” says Max, still smiling fondly down at you. “She’ll be good.”

Hands grasp your thighs and wrench them farther apart, warm breath—living breath—blowing on your cunt. “Sir,” you gasp, writhing under his big hands, “are you gonna be nice to me?”

Tim licks a bold path through your slit and hums, his head spinning, inebriated from a taste alone. He’s keeping you spread open, lapping up your sweet juices, fixing for his next hit. Making you moan is victory alone. He’ll be more than nice to you. 

He fixes his mouth to your clit and you cry out, your hands flexing uselessly in the handcuffs. He suckles at your pearl, every sensation heightened by the fact that you can't move, buried under the weight of all the hands and metal links and pleasure. Max watches, pleased with your behaviour, his cock straining against the fabric of his pants. “You’ve been bad, honey. Got a little reckless. We’re gonna teach you how to be good.”

Tim nips your clit, Max’s silent partner-in-crime, and you mewl. 

“Like you… know anything… about good.”

“Mmm, and so rude.” Max clicks his tongue in reproach. “Detective, I think you should show my wife what happens when she's rude.”

The tongue licking through your cunt stops, and a garbled sound of protest escapes your throat, your eyes bleeding mascara into the cushion. You pulse frantically around nothing, desperate to be filled somehow, anywhere. You whimper for Tim, Maxie, someone, please—

A hot, wet glob of saliva lands on your puckered asshole, and a gurgled moan leaves your lips as Tim cleans off his own spit with his tongue. 

As he swirls the wet muscle around your hole, his hand comes down in a hard slap on your ass, and you squeal, your arousal splattering on his clean white shirt. Apparently pleased, Tim groans, two thick fingers parting your folds.

“Ah! Oh, fuck, sir, please…”

Kneading the flesh of your ass in one hand, the other occupies itself by playing with your pussy, and for the first time, the detective gives you an order. 

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands, sinking two fingers into your tight cunt. His voice sounds like the shroud of night, like he knows exactly how illicit this is and fucking delights in it. 

The feeling of his tongue on your asshole and his fingers curling up against your spongy walls has you drooling, your thighs trembling around his shoulders. “It’s… ah, fuck… it’s so good, Detective. Fuck, I’m… I’m gonna—”

Max tucks your hair behind your ear so he can see the wrecked, dazed expression on your face. “We’re going to fill you up, honey. Let you prove that you're a nice girl. That sound like fun?”

“Yes,” you moan, trying to maintain eye contact with Max even as your vision blurs with tears, “s’good. Need to come, Detective. Please.”

Tim spanks your ass again, his mouth slurping indecently at your backside, his fingers coaxing you to a high you don’t see coming. Your thighs shake uncontrollably as he rubs up against your g-spot, your mouth dropping open in a silent scream as your entire body seizes. 

“There she is,” purrs Max, “such a nice girl, asking before she comes. How does your pretty kitty feel, baby?”

“Mmmsogood.” It's all a jumble in your mouth as your tension dissolves. Behind you, Tim is so gentle, licking up the release that has dripped down your thighs and tastefully avoiding your pussy. 

Max caresses your cheek. “Check in with me, honey. You want to keep going?”

You nod vigorously, flexing your fingers. Max intertwines his hand with yours, squeezing. “I want you in my mouth, Max. Wanna make you feel good.”

He grins crookedly, making eye contact with the detective behind you. Tim’s eyes are black, bright as a moonlit lake, his cock tenting his pants. Max isn't much better off. Your body will do that to a man. A woman. Fucking anyone. 

He’s just better at controlling himself. He’s had seventy years of practice. 

Max’s eyes don't waver from Tim as he speaks to you. “Want our nice detective inside you, baby?”

“Oh, please,” you gasp. “Please fill me up, sir.”

Max cocks his head toward Tim. “I think she's been good enough. Don’t you?”

Tim nods. You have. You’ve been so good. He’ll give you any goddamn thing you want. He’ll throw himself at your feet time and time again if it means you’ll look at him this way. Over your shoulder, you meet his eye, smiling sweetly enough to give him a toothache. 

“I’ll be a good girl, Detective.”

The glint of the metal cuffs reflects in his eyes, and he looks like an animal. 

Both he and Max shuck down their zippers, but it’s Tim’s hands that grab for you, hauling you backward by your hips and wrapping one large hand around the chain between your cuffs. Pulling hard, he forces your body upright as Max settles in front of you. 

You look up through your lashes at your husband, who tangles his fingers in your hair and yanks your head back. You’re effectively suspended in the air by both men, your hips sorely rubbing against the arm of the sofa. It’s intoxicating. 

Between your kiss-bruised lips, Max watches your fangs protrude, and he tuts. 

“Gonna have to learn to control yourself, baby. Otherwise, this is gonna hurt for me.”

You swallow hard, retracting the sharp points of your teeth back into your gums. Max sings his praises by pulling out his hard cock and slapping it playfully against your cheek. Moaning his name, you begin to drool, the need to please igniting your body into action, your fuse lit from both ends. 

Behind you, a warm, hard length rests between your asscheeks, and your back arches as best it can with Tim pulling at your cuffs. “Mmm, you’re so big, Detective,” you croon. “Is it gonna fit?”

Tim tugs roughly at the cuffs, a deep noise like a growl leaving his lips. “Gonna fuckin’ make it fit.”

“Open up,” says Max, guiding his cock to the seam of your mouth. “Open, and he’ll stuff your pretty little cunt.”

You part your lips and stick out your tongue, eager to take your husband’s big cock into your mouth. He’s long, thick, ridged with veins that you could trace with your eyes closed. But he doesn't like it when you close your eyes. He wants to watch you take him. 

He pushes the tip into your hot, wet mouth, lip curling to reveal sharp teeth glinting white in the firelight. Your skin is pleasantly sticky with warmth, your mascara smudged beneath your eyes. Tim grasps the base of his cock, smearing his precum through your folds and catching on your clit. You moan around Max’s cock, letting him slide deeper down your throat at the same time the detective’s cock notches inside your cunt and begins to sink inside you. 

Tim’s free hand grabs your hip to steady himself. Fuck, you're goddamn tight—warm and wet, your greedy pussy sucks him in, wrenching open around his length. His nostrils flare with self-restraint, the Herculean task of maintaining some composure even as his entire body thrums with the need to take you, to use you like a pretty doll and relieve all his stress. 

What the fuck is happening to me? 

“She’ll let you,” says Max, and Tim has to blink hard to see the man across from him. “She’ll let you use her. She likes being treated like a cumslut. Right, honey?”

Your fingers flex, locking around Tim’s wrist, and you bob your head around Max’s cock. “Shit, that’s right,” growls your husband. “Feel that, Detective? She’s fuckin’ begging to be filled up. Don’t go easy on her; she won’t be happy.”

Tim feels the rest of you give, and his hips bump into your ass. “Fuck,” he sighs. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

The fire's embers crackle against his back. He’s where he belongs. 

His first thrust is experimental, watching the way your ass jiggles and your nails dig into his wrist, your throat contracting around Max’s cock. His second is indulgence: a slow drag out, back in, savouring the way your walls suffocate him. By the third, he’s lost control. 

He begins to fuck you hard, the momentum of his thrusts forcing Max’s cock down your throat. “Je—fuck,” spits Max, fisting your hair, transfixed by the tears brimming in your waterline, the delicious slide of his length along the walls of your hot throat. “Such a fuckin’ pro. Gonna turn me into a two-pump chump. Gonna fuckin’ embarrass me in front of our guest.”

Tim grits his teeth as he pounds you, relishing his total control over your body, bending it to his will. You're so fucking good, so sweet, and he doesn't know why he ever suspected you. 

He should turn in his badge for pointing a gun at you. 

You whine around Max’s cock when Tim grinds deep, the head of his dick kissing your cervix, your eyes rolling back in your head. He feels you shudder underneath him and does it all over again, fucking you hard, deep, mercilessly. 

You swallow Max down to the base, wiggling your tongue along the vein on his length. “Gonna fuckin’ come if you keep doing that,” he groans, but you're undeterred. You hum, the vibrations coursing through his body, and his balls pull up, emptying his cum down your throat in rhythmic pulses. 

“Fuck.” Max pulls out of your mouth just to spill the last of his cum on your bruised lips, painting you white. “That’s my fucking girl. Show me.”

You open your mouth again, tongue lolling out to proudly display his release. He rubs his thumb over your chin and spits into your mouth. 

“Now swallow.”

You do, gulping down his cum and showing him your clean tongue when you're done. Max smirks, too damn proud for his own good. “Made you cry.”

You have little room left in your head to bask in his praise. Tim is taking charge, engulfed in the ecstasy of fucking you, his hips punching hard into your ass and forcing your back to bow with the grip he maintains on the handcuffs. Your next orgasm is approaching, your clit rubbing against the arm of the sofa and sending electrical tremors to your core. 

But Max is still steel-hard despite his orgasm, watching the way your ass bounces with the force of Tim’s thrusts, your bound hands collected in a useless pile at your back, the breathy moans that leave your mouth. “Gonna need to take a break from breaking her, Detective. I want in, too.”

Some territorial part of him snaps and claws, too consumed by your body to let another man near it. Max clicks his tongue, giving Tim a dangerous smile. “Be careful, Rockford. Don’t get greedy with your treat.”

A strangled “unh” is your input, eyes shuttering as Tim reaches deep inside you again, mounting your orgasm to a foregone conclusion. Max sees the glaze drip down over your eyes, and decides to watch you come apart under a different man’s cock. “Spoiled, honey,” he mutters. “You’re spoiled.”

You come hard, joints locking and thighs squeezing Tim’s where they keep you spread apart. Your entire body jolts with electrical pulses, the pleasure coursing white-hot through your useless veins. He holds you in place, impaled on his dick, writhing around to get as much of him inside you as you possibly can. Tim grits his teeth, a faint whimper escaping his throat. The feeling of your pussy contracting around him, soaking his length, has him dizzy, close to keeling over—the scent of you, the warmth of your tight cunt, the way you coo his name and call him sir. Thank you for letting me come, sir. Fuck, sir, you feel so good inside me. Don’t leave me, sir.  

He doesn't ever want to leave this fucking house. 

Max slides his palm over your spine and you melt under it. “Come on, honey, let’s get you up. I’m in the mood to share some more.” 

You whine as Tim reluctantly pulls out, weeping precum into your used hole. He’s going to fucking die if he doesn't come soon. 

He helps you upright, kissing all the way up your spine and enjoying the soft hums of pleasure that emit from your lips. He wants to stay forever. He wants to bury himself inside you and never pull away. 

“Mmm, Detective,” you purr. “So strong.”

“Yours,” he grumbles, his plush, wet mouth feverishly tracing a path along your jaw. “‘m yours.”

“Hear that, Maxie?” You beam at your husband, threading your fingers through Tim’s behind your back. “He’s mine.”

Max grins. “Let him prove it. C’mere, honey.”

Tim walks you to the couch and helps you kneel, settling behind you. Sitting in his lap, his mouth on your throat, you watch Max approach, slowly fisting himself. He kneels, too, rubbing the head of his cock against your clit. You gasp his name, your back arching, and Tim uses the opportunity to slot himself at your entrance, sinking you down on his cock with none of the care he took the first time around. 

He’s deeper at this angle, grinding up against your front wall, absconding with any attention he had for staving off his orgasm. His teeth nip your earlobe, your jaw, one arm banding around your waist and squeezing your breast. 

In front of you, Max grips himself and continues to rub your clit with the head of his cock. You mewl like a cat, and Tim groans, burying his face in your neck. 

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he hisses, his hips bucking up into you. “Jesus, baby.”

“He’s a blasphemer,” teases Max. 

“Good,” you sigh, your head falling back onto Tim’s shoulder. The scent of leather and sweat engulfs your heightened senses, and the erratic thrum of his pulse echoes in your ears. His blood is warm, thick, rich—

Just a taste, you think, your eyes drooping at the very thought. Just one taste. I’ll be good…

Max coaxes you to another high with the pressure at your clit, but when he sees your mouth drop, he takes it away from you. You pout, petulant as ever, and Max mirrors it mockingly. 

“One dick inside you isn't good enough?” He shuffles closer, yanking your head back by your hair and kissing you hard. His tongue dips into your mouth, and your fangs begin to descend, catching his lip before he breaks away. 

Max prods his lip with his thumb and watches the blood bead, reaching out to smear the small crimson stain onto your lips. Hungrily, you lick it up, the cat with the cream, staring up at him with those faux-innocent eyes. 

He snarls, fitting the head of his cock at your already-filled entrance. “Relax.” It’s Tim's raspy voice, mouth still fixed to your throat. You sink into him, letting Max open you up wide. 

“That’s fuckin’ it, baby,” says your husband, smoothing his hand over your belly and wrenching open your hole to fit himself next to the detective. “Feel us in here?”

“Unnghhh.” Your mouth is open, your pearly fangs glinting in the dim light. Tim drags his nose up your throat and opens his eyes to study your face in the moment of pleasure. 

He barely registers the too-sharp teeth, the blackened veins crawling from your eyes. You're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. It's all he knows as he begins to fuck you in tandem with your husband. His body vibrates with desire. His head is static. He belongs to you. 

You’re so full. You're going to burst, and they're relentless, uncaring, caught up in the list and pheromones and perhaps the competition of seeing who can get you there first. You can only manage faint squeaks as they repeatedly take you, your body suspended, a pretty toy they get to use as they like. It’s so erotic that your cheeks burn, your core building with the pressure of another orgasm. 

So fuckin’ tight.

Such a pretty fuckin’ doll, letting us use your body.

Gonna take our cum, baby? You gonna keep it all safe inside you?

She’s coming. Looks so pretty when she comes. 

Come, pretty girl, and we’ll fill you up. Give you a nice treat.

You no longer know who’s speaking. It's all rolling around in your head, the smell of blood pounding in your skull, the temptation to turn your head to the side and taste the nectar from his throat. Your orgasm devastates you, your body quivering, both men lavishing their tongues and mouths over your skin as they continue to wreck your cunt. 

Fingers flex against your ribcage, your wrist, and Tim is coming, his teeth bared against your temple and the leather holsters on his shoulders scraping wetly against your back as he grinds into you and stays there. His hot cum pumps into you, splattering your walls and Max’s cock. His balls continue to empty inside you as your husband reaches his peak, nudging your chin upward so he can sink his teeth into your throat, gulping down your blood. 

Max’s head goes fuzzy with your taste, sweet and soft as velvet as it slides down his tongue. You moan at the feeling of his cum filling you up at the same time he depletes you of blood you don't need. They both empty themselves inside you and let your body slump against him. You hear the rustle of a key in your handcuffs and feel them release, falling to the floor. 

Max and Tim ease out of you, and you turn around to lower yourself onto Tim’s hard chest, toying with the buttons of his shirt. Behind you, Max scoops up globs of cum that have slipped out of your used hole and stuffs it back inside. 

Tim’s eyes are fixed to you, dark and gentle, his hand gently squeezing your wrists. “Did I hurt you?”

“You couldn't hurt me,” you purr, sliding your hands under his collar and threading your fingers through his tousled hair. “You're so sweet to me, Detective. So big and strong.”

He trails his fingers up your back until he can cup your face in his hands, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb. “Your teeth…,” he murmurs, a vague expression of puzzlement on his face. 

“You aren’t going to take me down to the station, are you, Detective?” You curl your finger around a lock of silver hair, pouting down at him. 

“No, baby.” He presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist. “I’m not gonna do anything to hurt you. I’d never. You’re safe. Safe with me.”

You beam at him and playfully nip his nose. “You’re a good detective, Mr. Rockford. You’ll find the killer soon.”

He nods vigorously. “I will.”

“And you’ll put them away,” you say, biting your lip as you slowly unbutton his shirt. “Because you're so good.”

“I’m good,” he echoes, unable to tear his eyes from yours. His body feels limp, calm, satiated, when he's touching you this way. The job disappears. The stress disappears, the exhaustion and the malaise. Humankind is a pathology, and you are his cure. 

“Max,” you coo, resting your cheek on Tim’s chest and listening to his strong heartbeat. “I like him.”

Max hums, his knuckles gently dragging up and down your spine. “I know, baby. You wanna keep him?”

Quietly, you nod, littering kisses from his chest to his neck. You indulge in the fluttering pulse beneath his jaw. Tim smiles, sedated, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

Max nods, giving your ass a playful squeeze. “Okay, honey. Go on—ask him.”

You prop yourself up on Tim’s chest and trail your fingers through his beard. “Do you wanna stay with me?”

Tim’s brows crease. “You want me to stay?”

“Forever,” you whisper conspiratorially, your fingers drumming an eager little dance on his chest. “I’ll make you real happy. I promise.”

Tim sees the points of your canines, the veins bleeding from your darkening eyes, and feels no fear. He lets you tip his head back, baring his throat, and he lets you lick a bold stripe up his neck. My answer is yes, he thinks, and he hopes you can hear him, crawling happily down into a hell that will warm his body for eternity. 

Peace overcomes him as your eyes meet his, and your fangs sink in deep, the light slowly dimming to a faint memory. 

CASE CLOSED. 

#kiwisbell's fics #pedro pascal #tim rockford x reader #merge mansion #tim rockford #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x f!reader #max phillips #bloodsucking bastards #max phillips x you #max phillips x reader #max phillips x f!reader #max phillips x reader x tim rockford #max phillips fanfiction #tim rockford fanfiction

[ladamedusoif]

Silvered

(Tim Rockford x f!reader)

Pairing: Tim Rockford x f!reader

Word count: ~ 800 words

Rating: Explicit (18+; MDNI)

Content/warnings: oral (f receiving); established relationship; PiV sex; voice kink; Tim is a smooth talker; this is literally just smut; but it’s got some sweetness

Summary: Tim Rockford’s talented silver tongue has a reputation, in more ways than one.

Notes: It started as some horny group chat thots based on that Tim gifset and then my perennial menaces enablers, @julesonrecord and @agentjackdaniels, told me I should post it. So I did.

When you first started dating Tim, you learned quickly that his “silver tongue” was something of a running joke at the precinct. He could charm anyone, his colleagues said - suspect, witness, informant, fellow officers. It was one of the reasons, they said, that he’d been able to rise so successfully through the ranks. Over beers at their favourite bar, you smiled as they good-naturedly teased him about his way with words.

“No need for ‘good cop, bad cop’ with Rockford,” one of the other detectives had said, shaking her head as she swigged her beer. “Just breaks out that voice, and bam - information secured. Silver tongue strikes again.”

That was the first time Tim spent the night. Stretched out on your bed later, you swiftly came to know just how much more that silver tongue could do, beyond winning over informants and cracking cases. How many times did he make you come with his mouth alone, that first night? Three? Four?

No matter the number. It was enough to leave you boneless, yielding, entirely and wholly under his spell. Enough to have you ready and willing to tell him everything, anything, to give him the lot - just as long as he would keep those soft, pink lips sealed tightly around your pussy, and that silver tongue plotting new courses over and around your clit.

He went about the business of eating you out just as he did any case. Lay the evidence out in front of him, study it, and work it methodically, carefully, precisely. He held himself back from getting too excited until he knew when he was on the right track - usually one or two orgasms in, when the wetness was pooling at the tops of your legs and your hips started to buck against his face as he pulled another from you.

Tonight, he’s building you up to a third, languidly swirling his tongue over that sensitive, swollen bud with just the right amount of pressure. He hums contentedly against you, the vibrations reverberating through your centre and enhancing the pleasure all the more. “One more, baby,” Tim mutters, pulling back slightly to survey the mess he was making of you. He slips his fingers into your cunt as he looks up at you, dark eyes glittering and nose still nudging at your mound.

And then he’s back, tongue lapping and swirling and dipping into the wet heat of your pussy like there’s no tomorrow.

The pressure mounts beautifully deep within you - exquisite torment, glorious ache, as you know you’re nearing the edge. Instinctively, you reach down just before you succumb, winding your fingers tightly through Tim’s dark, silver-streaked curls. His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he purrs delightedly at the sensation.

You hold him there for another moment or two, and then pull his head back firmly so that you can see him - and he can see you - as you fall apart on his skilled, clever tongue. His eyes sparkle as they gaze into yours, sharing a moment so erotic, so lewd, and so intimate and soft.

Tim groans with pleasure as he helps you ride out the last waves of your orgasm, revelling in the taste and feel and smell of your sex. You’ve never seen him move up the bed, unzip his pants, and take you so quickly. He cages you with his arms, bends forward to kiss you, and lets you taste yourself on his mouth as he fucks you.

You know he isn’t going to last. Most of the time he’s an expert in that department, always making sure you come first while sustaining your mutual pleasure. He’s gentlemanly like that. Won’t finish until you do.

Tonight, though, the combination of your taste, your wetness soaking his face, moustache, and beard, and above all the way you jerked his head back so you could look deep into his eyes as you came hard against his mouth is just too much. Frankly, Tim thought later, you were lucky he didn’t ruin his freshly dry-cleaned dress pants there and then.

A couple of hard thrusts and he’s coming inside you, moaning loudly as he finds his own release and reward deep within your body. He collapses onto your chest, shifting down to rest his head against the soft, sweat-veiled skin of your breasts.

Tim drifts into the kind of deep, restorative sleep he’s only ever experienced since he started dating you. His breath is warm against your body and you hold him close. Idly, you play with his damp curls, and trace a gentle caress with your thumb along his plush lower lip.

#tim rockford #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford smut #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford one shot #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #silvered fic #merge mansion

[wardenparker]

Detective Tim Rockford with “I thought you liked forehead kisses” 😌 because I love forehead kisses

Tim Rockford. 2,836 words. "I thought you liked forehead kisses." Co-written with @absurdthirst Warnings: Grief, trauma from family death, discussions of death, angst, discussion of divorce, reconciliation Sequel to: “Wait! Please don’t leave!”

The days are shorter right now. He excuses himself by saying that he’s just checking in with you, but that’s easy considering you are still staying in his house. Weeks have come and gone, the crime scene tape has been cleared from the yard and the front door of the house you shared with your sister, but you haven’t been able to go back there, not even to pick up clothes. Opening the door to the house he is once more sharing with you, he calls out your name, turning and closing the door with a decisive click and turning the deadbolt to give you that extra sense of security you need. “Sweetheart? Where are you?”

“I’m in the kitchen.” Such a Donna Reed thing to say, but it’s true. And the semblance of a normal routine is helping to ground you, if you’re honest. The office is letting you work from home while you sort out your family tragedy and try to cope, but the fact is that being back in the house that you and Tim picked out together gives you a sense of safety and security.

He drops his keys on the entryway table and shucks his jacket, his shoulder harness still in place over his button down shirt as he walks into the kitchen. “Hey.” He sends you a soft smile, still trying to ignore how right it seems to have you here. He had been sharing his bed with you, not fucking you, but you had curled into his arms that first night and he hadn’t been able to turn you away when you needed comfort. “How are you doing today?”

“About the same.” No one expected this to be easy for you, but having Tim to lean on for support has helping more than you could possibly know. “But I, um…I made chicken parm for dinner…” It’s the smallest thing you could possibly do to thank him for taking you in, and it turns out that after all these years cooking is fairly soothing for you. The machinations of the kitchen are a comforting routine. So making his favourite dinner was not a very hard leap to take.

“You didn’t have to do that.” His protest is perfunctory, already drooling at the thought of your chicken parm. He’s never found one close to it. “But thank you.” Moving over to give you a hug, he presses his lips to your forehead gently.

It’s such a small gesture, but it warms you through to the point of making you ache. Practically making you melt against him. “What was that for?” You ask, almost like you’re afraid of what he might be getting ready to tell you. It’s been three weeks and you’re still here — maybe he wants you to leave or has finally realized this whole thing is inappropriate. Or worse — he’s realized that you still have feelings for him.

Tim pulls back, worried that he had possibly overstepped. He’s tried so hard, but it’s almost impossible when he’s still in love with you. Never stopped loving you if he’s honestly with himself. He shoots you a sheepish look. “I thought you liked forehead kisses.” He murmurs softly.

“I do.” And your cheeks are burning at the seemingly innocent show of affection. “I just…I’m surprised you remember, that’s all.” It seems like such a tiny thing to you. That fact that he remembers speaks volumes.

“I remember.” Tim answers quietly, his eyes sliding away from your face before he admits he remembers everything about what you like.

“I do, too.” You remember everything. The good and the bad. Including how you pulled the plug on your marriage too quickly. There should have been counseling and compromises. But you had reacted impulsively and he hadn’t fought you. So you had just…thought he agreed. That your marriage wasn’t worth saving after all.

Holding you close for another moment, Tim pulls away. Refusing to take advantage of your emotional vulnerability. “I picked up some clothes for you today.” He murmurs softly.

“You didn’t have to do that.” The day after the attack you had managed to get yourself to Target with the help of an emergency appointment with your therapist, and have been working off those supplies for weeks now.

“I know, but I thought it would be nice for you to have some of your things.” He’s not going to mention that he had the crime scene clean up crew in. It would be okay for you to go home but he doesn’t want you to.

“Thank you.” It’s almost painful to have him move away, but you can’t tell how much of it is grief, how much of it is missing him, and how much of it is gratitude. “Dinner’s almost ready…I had it all set up so you could work late if you need to…I just need to cook off the spaghetti and melt some cheese over the chicken.”

“Thank you.” You’ve been so understanding if he had to work late, probably because he’s working on your sister’s case, but he has news for you. “Sit down for a minute please, I want to talk to you.”

“Is everything okay?” It can’t be. Not if he has that serious tone. But you swallow hard and try not to catastrophize what it could be — that won’t help a single bit. All you can do is sink into a chair with wobbly knees and try not to fear the worst. That the man who killed your sister has gotten away. Or even killed again.

Tim kneels down in front of you again, taking your hands in his. “This afternoon, I arrested the man who murdered your sister.” He tells you softly. “He confessed. There’s no way he’s getting away with it.”

“He—he confessed?” The way you had been prepared for a fight. To have to look the man in the eyes in a court of law and make him admit it or worse. If he actually went free? The absolute terror in your heart that has been clutching into your soul with a merciless grip just slips, and with it comes the outpouring of tears that you’ve been holding back for weeks.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby.” You rock forward in a sob and he catches you in his arms, holding you close while you cry in rage, grief and absolute sorrow for the sister that has been taken from you and the life you have lost. “We have him, baby. It doesn’t bring her back, but he’s going to rot in jail for what he’s done.”

Without any concept of how long you cry for, all you know is that Tim stays there — crouched with his bad knees and his worse back — in front of you and holds you the whole time. He’s been the calm against the storm for this entire tragedy. He’s been a rock in the stormiest sea you’ve ever encountered, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the way he’s handled everything. By the time you finish crying, you’re shaking in his arms and really almost collapsed into him. It would be embarrassing if it weren’t the only other person in the world who means this much to you.

You are exhausted by the time you’ve stopped crying. Your eyes are puffy and your nose stuffed up but you are still the most gorgeous creature he’s ever seen. You sit back in your chair and he pats your knee. “Let me make you some tea, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m okay,” you promise him, despite that clearly not being the truth. You feel like you’ve been hit by a truck even and though you tried so hard to make him a nice dinner — you’re just exhausted.

“I know you are.” Tim murmurs softly, moving over to the kettle and bringing it to the sink to fill with water. It was one you had left, unused until you came back since he lived off coffee and cigarettes, the occasional take away Chinese. “You are a strong woman. But I know what you are going through. I see it everyday, sweetheart.”

“I was so unfair to you.” The regret in your voice is palpable. The sadness and the resignation. Knowing that if you had bent just a little instead of thinking you had to be strong as stone and simply end things, you might have been able to break through and realize that this is what Tim deals with on a daily basis.

“I kept all of this from you.” Tim reminds you. He had bottled up all his emotions towards the job, never letting you see the toll it takes on him. Never letting you understand why he was so driven to solve the case. He had witnessed too many people crying for their loved ones. Had too many mothers and wives, sisters and lovers collapse into his arms sobbing. He moves over to the stove and sets the kettle to boil, turning on the water in the pot beside it for the spaghetti. “I didn’t want it to touch you.”

“I’m so sorry, Tim.” From your place hunched over at the dining room table where you shared so many meals together, your head drops to hang between your shoulder blades.

“Hey…hey…” he moves back over, his hands on your shoulders instantly, squeezing gently. “You have nothing to apologize for.” He promises you. “Nothing. It was me.”

“We should have tried counseling. Or just talking more.” When he comes up in back of your chair you lean back instantly to be closer to him. “I’ve always hated myself for just leaving.”

“You weren’t happy.” Tim reminds you. “I didn’t make it easy for you when we were married, so when you said you wanted a divorce…I just— I gave you what you wanted.” He admits quietly. “I didn’t have the right to beg you for another chance, for anything really.” He had to talk to a therapist after he had killed a man right after the divorce, it was standard police protocol to be released back on the force, but he had worked through a lot of his issues. “I- compartmentalized when we were together, but I had a hard time decompressing. Putting work aside. You deserved so much more, but I just couldn’t give it to you then. I was trying to get those poor victims families some peace. To let the victims rest.”

“And I should have realized how much good you do for those families. For—” A shaky, shallow breath cracks out of you. “For the victims.” For people just like your sister. “And then the second it suits me I come back in and take advantage of the thing that I said I hated?” Shaking your head, you honestly can’t understand why he even bothers with you. He should have just told you to get a hotel room, and instead he’s been sharing his bed with you and fetching your clothes from your house. “I—I’m just so fucking sorry, honey.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” He repeats softly, his fingers brushing your neck, feeling your pulse jump and he knows that it’s not the time or the place, but he can’t help himself. “I would do anything for you, sweetheart.” He admits. “I love you.”

Even though the pronounced frown on your face is from the situation and your tears and not from him, it feels like it deepens when your eyes widen and you turn around to face him again. “You mean you used to.” You correct carefully, trying to understand.

His heart aches at the displeasure in your face, aware that you wouldn’t want him to love you anymore. Still, he shakes his head. “No, I mean I still love you.” He confesses. “Never stopped, not even when you left.” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I’m not trying to convince you of anything. But babe, I’m here for you because I love you, and you needed someone who cares about you.”

"You don't have to convince me of anything." The corners of your mouth turn up like a confession of your own, although you're still not entirely sure that you can even wrap your mind around what he's laying out in front of you. "What's the quote? If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours."

“I knew your address.” He’s not done laying everything out. Rolling his eyes at himself and tilting his head. “Slight misuse of resources. But when that call came over the radio, I think I stopped breathing. I know my heart stopped.” He shakes his head. “All I could think was that I had lost you, and you weren’t even mine anymore. But as long as you were safe and happy out in the world, I was okay.” His voice cracks slightly. “Thinking the worst….” He shakes his head again. “I feel so fucking guilty because of how happy I was that it wasn’t you.”

"That...would explain why your young Detective Fallon was curious about our relationship." The question while you gave your statement -- a perfunctory measure since you didn't really see anything but it was a crime in your home with your sister as the victim so you needed to be eliminated as a suspect -- had surprised you but you had answered it honestly and moved on. "He thinks the world of you, by the way." Swallowing thickly, you push yourself to your feet to actually look Tim in the eyes. "And so do I."

“You feel appreciative of me helping you.” Tim doesn’t want to hope, and the look in your eyes gave him doing exactly that. “I don’t want to ever take advantage of you, sweetheart.”

"Baby..." As free as Tim has been with terms of endearment, you have been more guarded. Making sure that what you've been feeling wasn't powered by grief or the fear of being alone. But...it's Tim. This man is still your husband in your heart, even if not on paper. "I didn't leave because I stopped loving you. I never stopped loving you."

He stares at you for a moment, weighing your words and he closes his eyes in acceptance. His hands drift down to his hips and he swallows. “What do you want to do, sweetheart?” He asks softly.

“I don’t know.” You admit quietly, wanting to take another step closer but afraid to move a muscle. “But I know I don’t want to walk away from you again.”

“I had the clean up crew come through your place.” He murmurs softly. “You can rent it, sell it, burn it to the ground.” He huffs, “but don’t tell me about that one. I’d have to arrest you.”

“I’ve already decided to sell it.” Even thinking that Tim was only being nice because of what happened a few weeks ago, you hadn’t known that part of your hesitancy to leave this house was going back there. Even if he wanted you gone, you were finding someplace new.

“I think that’s a good idea.” He knows you will have to wait if you bought it with your sister. Her estate would have to be settled, but you can always stay here. Even if you don’t want to live here permanently again. “We can arrange for packers to come? So you don’t have to be there?”

“It shouldn’t be hard for me to find a place.” Even though you don’t want to. Even though you just want to stay here with Tim in the house you should have been living in for years. “I’m sure you don’t want me taking up your space. Even if you—if we—”

“Stay.” Tim interrupts you immediately. “Please. I want you to stay.” He gives you a small smile. “This is your house too. Always has been. Just- the joy left it when you moved out and I want it back.”

“I want to stay.” And admitting that out loud feels like you could collapse again but this time with sheer relief.

Tim steps closer to you, his arms coming around you again and he kisses your forehead once more. “Then stay, baby.” He whispers lovingly. “You never have to leave.”

However much you might have grown in the time you were apart, or what you might have discovered about yourselves, you’re still standing here in the kitchen of the house you picked out together. With your arms around each other. And with the gratitude that life is still allowed to have bright spots in the inky black darkness. “I missed you, love.”

“I missed you too.” A case had brought you back into his life, a horrible one, but it had allowed you both to compromise. To yield just enough to be able to come back together again. Detective Tim Rockford wouldn’t make the mistake of overlooking important clue to your feelings this time.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Tim Rockford #Tim Rockford x you #Tim Rockford x reader #Tim Rockford x female reader #Tim Rockford x f!reader #angst #murder #grief #trauma #reconciliation

[jksprincess10]

Anything you say can and will be held against you || Tim Rockford x reader

Summary: You’re working on a big case with your work rival, who seems to take a liking in distracting you. Smut with plot (if you squint).

CW: unsafe sex, public-ish setting, implied age gap, oral (f receiving)

Of course, your boss had to put you and Tim Rockford on the same case.

The two of you were work rivals, always competing to crack the biggest cases. He had way more experience than you as a detective, 20 years under his belt, and just under 5 years for you. But you liked the thrill of trying to outwit him – and you totally didn’t have a crush on him.

This was a big case. The murder victim was a rich woman who were really loved in your community.

Your day was full of interviews with the suspects, and you stayed late at night to look through the archives, trying to find more information on the rich family. A motive, maybe, a scandal. Something even bigger than this case. You were alone at the station or well, you thought so.

Your fingers were expertly shuffling the files, trying to find what you were looking for until suddenly, you heard the turn of a lock. You got ready to fight with your high heels if necessary but you relaxed when you saw Tim’s familiar stature.

“I thought I was alone. Do you ever leave work?” You sighed, exasperated.

He got closer to you and your breathing got more and more laborious.

Of course, he was seeing right through you. He knew you were crushing on him, and he would use it to his advantage – not saying that he enjoyed it or anything. Tim was a lone wolf, married to his work. But you were… always by his side, with your tight pencil skirt that perfectly molded your curves and your shirt that looked like the buttons wanted to pop off under the pressure of your breasts.

“Move out of my way, let the expert work.” He simply retorted.

“Hmmm, I was here first, Columbo.”

He held your wrist between his thick fingers, to try and push you away from the precious files. His skin was warm, you always thought it would be. From this close, you could smell the coffee on his breath and his cologne that was starting to wear off. You didn’t budge.

“I think I have a lead, so you will have to be patient.” He let go of your wrist and you were going to push him away, until your fingers touched the leather holster he was always wearing under his beige coat. Oh. Your mind went all places, except to the murder scene. The detective was looking down at you with a slight smirk. You didn’t know how you found the guts. Maybe… maybe you were sleep deprived and it was all a hallucination? But it felt so real when you pulled on his holster straps to bring him close to you, before crashing your lips on his. It felt so real when his tongue found its way into your mouth.

His hands guided you through the archive room before the back of your thighs hit a table. Your sat on top of it, bringing Tim closer to you. Your lips went their separate ways as you gasped for air. Your hand fiddled with his tie to undo it, and it finally joined the floor. He helped you undo the first buttons of his white shirt, while holding your gaze, his brown irises had become darker as lust filled him.

“Lay down for me.”

For once, you obeyed him, resting your elbows on the table to prop up the top of your body to keep your hungry eyes on him. His warm fingers pulled up your pencil skirt and your loose shoes fell to the ground. He pressed two fingers against your clothed heat, feeling how wet you already were.

“What were you thinking about, naughty girl?” He discarded your panties before you could answer.

“You, fucking me.” You responded bluntly.

He grinned as his kneels fell to the ground, so he was faced with your burning core. His fingers gripped your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the table and you rested your legs on his broad shoulders.

“Can’t do that right away, I would split you open.”

You couldn’t argue, because his tongue was already on you, licking up a stripe. You whined softly, squirming under his warm tongue. He took his time with you, trying different methods to make you moan louder and louder. Thank god the station was empty. You seemed to like more when he was concentrating on your small bud of nerves, licking in circles with increasing pressure. He took a mental note of that, keeping a steady pace, before a finger found its way to your entrance. He felt your walls resist his entry.

“Relax.” He commanded.

You breathed harshly and tried to relax as much as you could. But he went back to torturing your clit, as his finger was pushing his way in.

“F-f…uuuck.”

“I’m not even done.” You could imagine the shit-eating grin he was wearing on his face.

Without a warning, another finger joined your entrance. Once you seemed to have relaxed, he started pulling them in and out of you, as he was sucking harder on your sensitive spot. Your back arched against the table and your legs started to shake under your hard release. He kept lapping your juices away, until he got back up, drunk on your elixir.

You got down from the table to chase after his lips, tasting yourself on his tongue. You moaned against his mouth, your hands finding his belt, undoing it urgently. The detective pulled down his black slacks just enough to free his member.

You jumped out of your skirt and undid most of your shirt as he was stroking his member. When he was done, he held your waist to turn you around. You understood what he wanted from you and you laid your chest on the tabletop. You propped up your butt, where he laid his big hands.

He guided himself slowly through your folds. You felt every aching inch of him, until his hips were completely against your ass. You were already a whining mess under him.

“You okay?”

“Yes.” You greedily moved against him. “Please. Move.”

“Greedy little thing.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

He started moving slowly and it was already a lot. He was so big; he could hit every spot he wanted.

“F-Faster.”

He listened to you and started thrusting in and out of you at a faster pace. You could hear the vulgar sound of your skin slapping together and the grunts coming out of your mouths. He was rough and really was splitting you open. You knew he would ruin any other man for you.

He slowed down and pulled out to turn you around, so he could face you. He thrusted into you to fill you completely again. His hands found your half-clothed breasts, fondling them as he picked up his rough pace. You took the opportunity to take care of yourself, playing with your clit in circles as he was guiding himself to an orgasm. You slowly built your release, your walls eventually tightening up against his length. The sight, the feeling of your tight pussy was too much for your colleague. He soon followed you, warm liquid filling you up to the brim.

When he backed away from the table and your body, he took the time to admire you, completely fucked, juices dripping down your thighs. Your body went limp as you caught your breath.

He went out to get something to clean you up, shirt still half-buttoned but pants pulled up, when he met… your boss, who understood what happened when he saw the color of your lipstick smeared on his mouth and face. Tim did his best to pull himself back together, but it was too late.

“I see… you two are working well together on this case.”

#tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #tim rockford x yn #tim rockford x you #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x yn #pedro pascal smut

[ozarkthedog]

𝐀 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

summary: you bring Tim takeout when he works another late night at the office.

warnings: tim rockford x fem!reader. UTTER FILTH. cockwarming (tim feeds you noodles while you sit on his cock). sex in a public but private setting. oral sex (f). dirty talk. cream pie. fluffy feels. no beta.

word count: 1.8k

author’s note: all i want is for this man to feed me noodles while i sit on his lap.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭  ♁  𝐎𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 ♁ 𝐏𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐨 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

There’s a rapping set of knocks at Tim’s door. The detective pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. He could’ve sworn everyone had gone home for the night as he sat working in his dimly lit office. 

Tim raises his head, groaning from the creak in his neck from looking over the scattered images and paperwork of his latest case.

“Yeah?” He yells, hoping whatever it is can wait until morning.

His heart soars when his eyes land on your face. Your head peaks around the edge of the door with that same endearing smile that first captured his heart. 

“Hungry?” You dangle a piping hot bag of Chinese takeout in the air.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Tim muses with a grin. 

He leans back in his chair and rubs a hand over his tired features as you stalk around his cluttered desk. He cups your jaw as you lean in for a chaste kiss before setting the bag down next to the smattering of crime scene photos.

You do your best not to look at the carnage. How this sweet man was able to do this job day in and day out always amazed you. 

He hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you into his lap. His body is soft and solid in all the right places as you smooth your hands over his chest and curl around his broad shoulders.  

“Sorry I didn’t make it home.” He rests his chin on your shoulder, molding into your warmth.

You run your fingers along the nape of his nape and into his hairline, scratching his scalp and making him moan. Heat stirs deep in your belly hearing him make those wicked noises.

“That feels so nice.” He murmurs. You wiggle in his lap as he plants soft kisses against your skin. His lips and mustache tease that sensitive spot behind your ear.

Large hands latch onto your waist holding you steady against his growing cock. You couldn’t help but grind onto his half hard length with a soft whine. He pulls away from your skin and you flash him a smirk.

“We should eat before the food gets cold.” You suggest and move to rise from his lap but he stops you with a low growl.

“Not just yet.” He says flatly. 

You squeak when he places you on the edge of his desk and lays a hand on your clothed chest. “Lay back, Baby. I’m hungry.” He rolls his chair and slots himself between your spread thighs hiking your skirt over your hips.

He licks a hot stripe up the center of your panties adding to your already sweltering core and takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Fuck, you smell good.” 

That was your only warning before he snapped the gusset of your panties like a rubber band and pockets the drenched material before smothering your pussy with his mouth.

Tim assaults your core with feverish delight, swirling his tongue in tight circles around your clit and landing sharp flicks that have your spine bowing off the desk. 

He sucks the tiny bundle of nerves into his mouth, humming around the overstimulated button, and forcing a wrecked gasp from your lips. He strikes with precision, knowing just the right amount of pressure and suction needed to get you off. 

Your hands dive into his locks as he thrusts his tongue into your soaked center making you bite your cheek praying you don’t scream out loud in case any of his coworkers still happened to be in the building. 

He eats you like a wild animal and drinks down your sweet arousal as it floods from your folds. His hands ensnare your thighs keeping your writhing body still as he laps greedily at your weeping core.

Your limbs twitch from the hypersensual onslaught. The tingle in the base of your spine rises higher and higher until your orgasm explodes behind your eyes.    

Arousal pours from your pussy as he tips you over the edge. You slam your hands over your mouth, subduing a scream as your legs lock around his head. He laps at your creamy spend with a deep, chest rumbling growl. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good. Just what I needed.” Tim grunts as he pulls away. The lower half of his jaw is coated in a thin, shiny layer of arousal and he couldn’t look more pleased with himself. 

You’re spent. It takes all your energy to sit up even with his help making the both of you laugh. He chuckles as your head lolls backward when he scoops you into his arms. “C’mere, Baby.”

You dumbly nod as he tugs you into his lap once more but this time his naked cock stands at attention and brushes your drenched slit. The bulbous crown is pulsing red and leaking from the tip as he grasps the base with a tight fist.

“Want you to sit on me.” Tim softly commands. “Just want to feel you around me for a little bit.” 

You shift forward nudging your pussy on his swollen tip, desperate to have him inside of you. He steadies your hips as you slowly sink down, stretching your cunt around him until you’re seated at the wide base. 

His massive girth spreads your petals and molds your walls around him. It knocks the air from your lungs every time. “There you go. Good girl.”

The once tense man now looks sated and relaxed as he sits with you in his lap. He cradles your face in his palms and tenderly presses his lips to yours. He feels so big in every sense as his large body smothers you and his cock presses into the deepest depths of your cunt.

He breaks the kiss with a groan when he feels your core swirl. “Like feeling my cock buried deep inside you?”

You rake your fingers down his white button up, wishing you could move and feel that heavy drag that only his cock could elicit. His brow furrows at your pout. “What’s wrong, Baby?”

“I need to move. I need something.” You stir. 

Tim wraps his arms around your back, hushing your frazzled nerves as your head sags against a broad shoulder. He smoothes a hand up and down your back before eyeing the bag of food.  

He reaches for the now lukewarm box of Lo Mein. “Let me feed you, Baby.”

You lean back as he picks up a few noodles with his chopsticks. “Open wide.” He muses and carefully drops the salty food into your awaiting mouth.

The delicious food bursts on your tongue and distracts you from your current cock induced frenzied state. You happily chew the greasy noodles as he feeds them to you. “Gotta keep up your strength. You know how ravenous I can be.” He quips with a wink before taking a bite for himself.

You scoff and almost choke on the slippery noodles. “You okay there, Baby?” He jabs, pointing the chopsticks at you. 

“Shut up.” You swat his chest before dragging him into a fiery kiss. He groans into your mouth as your teeth nibble his plump bottom lip.

His cock twitches from the playful motion, pressing deeper into your core and making your core seize with a fresh wave of slick. 

With rogueish eyes, he chucks the half empty container on his desk. He tips his head in your direction and settles his feet firmly on the ground. “Prop yourself back. I wanna watch my cock split this tight, little cunt open.” 

Your elbows take the brunt of your weight as you lean back on his desk and put on a show for him. Arching your spine and exaggerating your curves in a lewd display. You get off on making the man beneath you pant like a dog.

His hands scramble for your clothed tits, needing to see them jiggle as he yanks your top down. His hands latch onto your naked flesh, pinching and sharply tugging your hardened nips. The obscene sounds that squeak from your throat drive him wild. 

“You needed a cock so bad that you’re taking it on my desk like a common whore.” He mockingly grunts.

The flesh of your bare ass smacks against his thighs on every downbeat, causing the knot in your belly to cinch tight. He lays a nimble thumb over your slicked stained clit and flicks the tiny bud making your cunt lock like a vice as your orgasm peaks suddenly.   

Tim grunts as your core quivers and milks his length. He ensnares your waist and bucks his hips, wildly fucking you through the overwhelming, blissful high. 

“That’s it, Baby. Grind that greedy cunt. Wanna feel you drip down my balls.” He swears under his breath. Your core convulses from his rough treatment as you smash your clit against the fine dark hair that peppers his pelvis.

The intense sensation makes your eyes go all glossy and dumb. You feel another orgasm quickly build in the base of your belly. Sticky, sharp thwaps reverberate off the walls as you meet his relentless thrusts.    

“You’re looking fucked out, Baby.” His eyes lock to where he’s spearing you open. “So fucking wet and gaping, it makes my cock throb.” 

Your belly flips at his crude words and they ignite your kindling orgasm, stoking it higher and higher until it smothers you completely. His balls draw up tight as your core clamps down around him with a delectable wail. He follows close behind, emitting a strangled noise that bursts from his chest as he fills you to the brim with his seed.

Your body twitches as he wraps his arms around you and lays you against his heated chest. Your hearts beat in tandem and he peppers soft kisses to the inside of your neck as the high slowly wears off. 

“How about we head home, Baby?” Tim says rubbing a warm hand along your back. You mumble an agreement into his neck making him lightly chuckle. “Come on, up you go.”

He holds you until you’re steady on your feet. You hiss as his release slips down your thighs after dismounting him. “Shit- where are my panties?” 

He looks concerned until you lift your skirt and show him the thick, gluey seed that’s drooling from your folds. His cock twitches at the sight. 

“Grab the food. We’ve gotta get you cleaned up.” He commands, leaving out the part where his mouth was involved. He tugs your skirt down and shoves you toward the door despite your protest in finding your panties. 

He stops in his tracks and reaches into his pocket to reveal your lost panties. “Now do you really think I’d let these leave my clutches?” 

You stick your tongue out at him and he retaliates by swatting your ass and pushing you out the door. “Just for that, you don’t get them back.”

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#tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford #tim rockford smut #pedro pascal

[iamasaddie]

mean & bitter

paring: Tim Rockord x f!Reader x Ramon Nomar (iykyk) rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI) word count: 3,9k~ summary: you knew how immature it was to be mocking two grown men that you worked next to, but whenever you saw them you just couldn't help yourself. They've been tolerating you for too long and now they've had enough. Secretary!Reader gets 'put in her place'.

warnings: pwp; dubcon due to power imbalance; age gap (reader late 20s - early 30s, Ramon is 40+, Tim is 50); mfm; oral m receiving, unprotected PinV, dirty talk, spit-roasting, choking, ass spanking, fingering, slight degradation; slight mysoginy but no one actually thinks like that; reader has hair that can be pulled; no use of y/n. let me know if I missed anything

a/n: big love and hugs to @noxturnalpascal for helping me out woth this little brainfart monstrosity by being the best first reader and beta <3 i love you, dearest, you make my heart all warm and fuzzy with love! and amazing and talented Han @swiftispunk , I am sending you love, adoration and I hope your day (week, month, year, lifetime) gets better from this point forward, ILY <3

MY MAIN MASTERLIST

The clicking of your heels on the slippery tile floor of the precinct made the men in the office wince. It usually wasn’t the reaction you got from the opposite sex, but when it came to Detective Rockford and junior detective Nomar things weren’t so nauseatingly easy. You weren’t at war, or anything of that sort - you weren’t even in the position to be at war with them - but you couldn’t lie, getting on their nerves did send an exciting chill down your spine. A chill that traveled even further than your spine (down your panties) more times that you cared to admit.

You hated the stereotypically misogynistic behavior of your workplace. Feminism works hard, but prejudice works harder, you huffed to yourself. The fact that you were a secretary in a place filled with men who had more prestigious jobs didn’t help either. You were used to tearing men apart with your snarky remarks and cruel observations, only keeping your job with your unquestionable professionalism. 

Most people in the precinct already knew better than to get on your bad side, preferring to keep things if not friendly then at least civil, but not Rockford and Nomar. Oh no, the men walked around like they sported ten inch dicks and egos the size of the Empire State Building. Whenever you made a comment, they retorted with two, so whatever you did the best score you came out with was 1:1, but that would change today.

Late night already fell on New York, the city as bright as during the day thanks to the innumerable billboards, city lights and Christmas decorations that shone brighter than your future. When the clock hit a painfully late 10pm, your boss told you to go home as he intended to do so as well, and you nodded, saying that you’d only bring some files that needed signing downstairs and head out. You did as you told him, though quite pointlessly, seeing that every other conscious person had already left the building, leaving you alone with the exception of the security guard that was most likely flirting with the night shift janitor.

You noticed light at the end of the corridor, knowing exactly what office it came from. Before you could stop yourself, your heels had already passed the doorstep. 

Detective Tim Rockford, a handsome man a little bit over fifty with a surly demeanor and cynical view of life was sitting at his desk, his eyes closed and his thick thumbs rubbing his temples slowly. Over him, just across the table cluttered with photos and notes, was junior detective Ramon Nomar. You had laughed a few times about how a man over forty can still have a junior position, and in very clean Spanish he told you exactly where to shove your comments. You smiled bitterly when you saw the deep wound you poked. To your misfortune, Nomar was also handsome as a sin, and had an attack dog behavior, for which you called him Rockford’s little pup. Even though there was absolutely nothing little about that man.

You knew the things weren’t good for them right now, a series of murders of young girls had shaken the city and for the three months they had worked the case they were nowhere closer to finding the murderer.

Of course, you didn’t find the situation enjoyable in any way, but you did revel a bit in the misery two detectives obviously felt. You wiped the corner of your lip, fixing the red of your lipstick.

“You know, maybe it’s finally time for you to retire. Go on a couple's retreat somewhere. Maybe Sandals,” you pretended to think, tapping lips with your index finger mockingly, “that is, of course, if you managed to earn anything with what a shitty job you’re doing here.”

Rockford didn’t even open his eyes, the only acknowledgment you got was a slight tilt of the head from Ramon, who immediately dismissed you as well.

“We don’t have time for your shit right now. Get out.”

“Or what? You're gonna kill me so you could crack at least one case?”

You didn’t notice how Ramon was on you so quick, easily enveloping your neck with his hand and squeezing it, pressing you into the wall painfully.

“You think it’s fucking funny?” He growled so close to your face that you could almost feel his breath in your mouth that opened in surprise. “You think that you can walk in here every fuckin’ time you want and bother us with your bullshit?”

His hand squeezed tighter around your throat, cutting off the airflow completely and making you dizzy. Your eyes started wandering pathetically, landing on Rockford, who finally sat straight in his chair, his face completely unfazed despite the scene unfolding in front of his eyes.

“No,” you tried to push the words past your lips, but failed, making yourself look like a dying fish. Ramon shook you, your head banging against the wall as he made you look back at him. His face was screwed in anger, but there was something else behind his furrowed brows. Something that resonated with the growing dampness in your panties that you failed to acknowledge as the lack of air made you almost unconscious. 

“That’s enough, Ramon,” finally, the older man intervened and as soon as the words left his mouth you felt air filling your lungs back up. You started coughing violently and would’ve fallen with how hard you leaned forward, but Ramon’s hand gripped your hip, keeping you steady and pressed to the wall. The sound of Rockford’s shoes clicking on the tile floor approached you, and before you saw the shining leather of his footwear, you felt already familiar warmth close to your neck. “She’s just a stupid little secretary, she doesn’t understand why our work here is so important. Why we cannot be interrupted.” His hand found your jaw, squeezing it in a tight grip and forcing you to turn.

“I-- ”

But you weren’t allowed to finish, the men who practically cornered you into a wall continued talking over you as if you weren’t even there.

“Maybe we should show her, then?” Detective Nomar raised his left brow, addressing Rockford. The younger man’s hand strayed dangerously close to your ass like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“What do you -- ”

Ignored again, like an annoying mosquito that you can’t catch so you just wait for it to start sucking on your blood to kill it. 

“You really think she’s teachable? ‘M pretty sure her brain has the maximum capacity of spelling the words correctly.” The older detective sighed, as if he was exhausted at just the prospect. His partner shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant gesture. You should’ve seen it minutes ago, that this was all just a scene. Their little foreplay before the main act that they already perfectly played out in their heads. 

The men in front of you looked at each other, barely containing little smirks. Their hands on your body weren’t angry or pushing, they just reminded you that you’ve been standing in a compromising position quite willingly, with your panties wet and your thoughts tangled. You’d given them your inaudible yes when you haven’t pushed either of the men away. You were going to play their game and they knew it, it was too late to back down now.

“I don’t know,” Detective Nomar stopped containing his satisfied smile, and you watched his hand go to his trousers to adjust the intimidating bulge before he looked at you, “but we can try.”

A set of rough hands took you by the shoulders, pushing you towards the desk cluttered with papers, documents, and the pictures of tortured victims and the suspected criminals. You didn’t have much time before you were shoved roughly and bent over it, your face pressed hard into the glossy photos, your left hip crying with pain as Rockford’s name plaque crashed into it. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” the words came out muffled.

“Didn’t think you were that dumb, girl.” Ramon laughed, hiking up your skirt and exposing your panties. “And judging by this big wet stain,” his thick thumb traced your slit, pushing the wet fabric into your flesh, “you know exactly what I’m doing.”

The whimper you let out was pathetic, and you heard a mocking laughter behind you. You’d never heard Tim Rockford laugh before, not like that, at least. "Goddamn, girl, is this the reason you were walking around acting like a bitch for the last few months? Just wanted to get fucked?”

You whined in protest, Ramon’s thumb still working on massaging your pussy lips, squeezing and thumbing the flesh becoming exponentially wetter. Detective Rockford walked around the table, his crotch with an intimidating bulge was on the same level with your face, and he patted your head, pushing the strands of your hair away from your face with a false softness. “You don’t need to lie now, sweet cheeks,” he almost whispered, “I know you think we’re bad detectives, but with evidence like that even a Starbucks employee would crack the case.”

The embarrassment got out of the picture pretty quick with other feelings occupying your mind and body, you had half a brain cell left to think about what it all could cost you. Your career, your reputation, it all can go out of the window for a moment of physical pleasure. But you felt like everything, every little jab and comment, every sarcastic laugh and side eye adamantly led you to this moment. To the moment where you were bent over a table with one strong man already sliding your panties down your legs and the other clicking his belt and opening the zipper of his pants.

“I thought you’d be yapping your mouth all the goddamn time, but look, we didn’t even have to gag you, huh?” Rockford’s voice was calm, if a bit merry, as his fingers finished with the fly of his pants and tugged the white shit up. Ramon hummed in agreement behind you, both of his hands busy with squeezing your asscheeks, tugging them apart to look at both of your holes.

“Don’t think your dick is big enough for the job, you’re overselling yourself again, just like I think you did at your job interview.” Sometimes you hated that sarcasm was your second language, and your short temper never got you anywhere but trouble. When every movement from both men stopped you realized that you were in trouble again. Tim crouched a little to look you in the eyes, his face wasn’t bothered a bit, only a confident smile telling you that you’d been wrong. You knew that you’d been wrong just from the bulge, but you just couldn’t fight your bitter nature.

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to see, sweetheart.” His eyes raked over your face and then looked behind your shoulder, giving a little nod to detective Nomar.

His movements were fast, practiced, boxers down, cock and balls out. You choked on air when you saw the delicious monstrosity bobbing heavily in front of your face. If either of the men laughed at your reaction you didn’t hear it, blood rushing in your ears and saliva pooling in your mouth. You admitted to yourself that Rockford was handsome, you just didn’t expect every part of him to be so attractive. His cock was easily seven inches, thick with a beautiful head shaded dark pink from arousal. His shaft was curved to the right just the perfect amount, two prominent veins running on the opposite sides and meeting the underside of his cock. You licked your lips, and your pussy squeezed around nothing as you imagined him stretching you out. Tim’s hand engulfed his shaft, and even though he could fully hug it with his thick fingers, the whole picture was still intimidating. He took a step closer, his thighs cutting into the edge of the desk and his full, heavy balls almost kissing your chin. You didn’t notice how you closed your eyes, but you opened them quickly as you felt his cock slapping your cheek. Tim looked at you condescendingly. 

“Open your mouth, doll.”

You did. Not a word left you when your lips obediently parted letting as much of Tim in as you could physically muster. He was warm, heavy and almost spicy on your tongue. A taste that would be impossible to recreate, a feeling that you will never get to experience again. This moment was unique, and you moaned at the realization.

You didn’t notice the disappearance of the junior detective, all of your thoughts consumed by the man who started shoving himself inside your throat at a slow but steady pace. You evened your breathing just in time to feel Rockford’s hand closing around your throat. He moaned for the first time since he got his cock in your mouth when he felt his shaft parting your throat from the inside.

“Fuck, doll,” he was almost breathless, “your cocksucking skills are way better than your secretarial ones. Maybe you should think of switching your profession.”

His words were almost enough to start protesting, you pushed your hands up and placed them on his hips, but Tim was too quick to read your mind. 

“No, no, baby, keep your hands behind your back. If I wanted a handjob I’d tell you to give me one. But I want to fuck your bitchy throat until you can’t speak and that’s what I’m going to do.” 

You felt your hands being caged behind your back again, and a second time a belt clacked. Part of your brain that still worked told you that it was Ramon, who was absent for the last year that you’d been sucking Tim’s cock. His big hands quickly squeezed your wrists, and then you felt leather tying them together. All of it was overwhelming you, their voices, their actions, Rockford’s hand still on your throat and slowly working you up to take the full length of him even though you thought that impossible. Nomar, grabbing your tied hands before hunching over you so that his head almost touched Tim’s protruding soft belly when he whispered filthy promises in your ear.

“You look like a great fucktoy, mi amor. You should just stay like that for us to fuck you like the dirty desperate slut that you really are.” You couldn’t kill the moan, letting it spill right from your belly and vibrate in your throat, making Tim’s breath catch. “Your cunt is so fucking wet both my pants and my boxers are ruined.” 

You gurgled, trying to protest, or agree, or beg, but ended up just spluttering saliva on Rockford’s cock, making his shaft move even easier into your wet mouth. 

“Poor slut, always wants to talk back but now she’s got her mouth full.” Ramon cooed mockingly, his weight finally off your body, and his hands back on your asscheeks. You didn’t expect the rapid fire of slaps falling on both of them one after the other, making your skin burn and your nipples cry with tension in the confines of your bra. “You’ve got a great ass, let’s see if the pussy matches.”

The words laced with a thick accent barely registered in your mind, one moment you were getting used to the stings of rough hands abusing your ass, and the next two thick fingers easily found your entrance and slipped inside. You felt tears streaming down your cheeks both from losing your breath sucking the biggest cock you’ve seen in your life, and from the feeling of relief to finally have something to squeeze with your dripping core. You didn’t understand who your body belonged to anymore, but it was definitely not you.

Ramon’s fingers parted your insides easily, sliding in and out with no resistance as you dripped more and more arousal onto his hand. 

“Fuck, that’s a good pussy, should’ve checked it out sooner. So many nights with blue balls while she’s just gushing for me.” 

His fingers curled inside you and you couldn’t stop your body’s reaction, jerking your head back and almost screaming as white hot pleasure seared your body, starting from the pleasure spot that Ramon almost punched with his fingertips, continuing to rhythmically caress it. Tim let go of your throat, giving you a moment to catch your breath seeing as your body arched as if you were possessed. He placed his hand on your hair, clutching it instead and bringing you closer to your original position as Ramon abused and worshiped your cunt with his fingers at the same time. 

“You had your cigarette break, doll, it’s time to come back to your workplace,” he chuckled, breathless, and pushed your face into his balls, before dragging it up and back on his cock, letting your tongue dance over his salty skin all the way up. You resumed your position, welcoming his cock back into your throat with much more ease than before. You could almost feel his short-trimmed pubic hair touching your nose, but you weren’t quite there yet. 

You whined as Ramon removed his fingers from your pulsing pussy, but were quickly shut up by a harsh tug on your hair.

“Hold her tight,” came from behind you, and before you could protest, before you could even think about what you’d just heard, two big palms enveloped your head pressing it hard into Tim’s pelvis, and Ramon’s cock - that judging by your pussy measuring skills was at least as thick as Rockford’s, if not as long - pushed inside you in one deep thrust. Your head was getting dizzy with the lack of oxygen, the feeling of euphoria so overwhelming and new that you almost weren’t surprised when Ramon - with his cock fully seated inside you - barely touched your clit with two of his fingers, causing a body-shaking, mind-altering orgasm to leave your body weak and pliant in the hands of two still very much aroused men.

“Mired, did you see that? She just came all over me from us, filling her holes.” You knew Tim would find something to answer with if he wasn’t busy with choking his dick right above your face. When you came, he let your head fall gently on the desk, right side up. Your vision was blurry with mascara, tears, white spots of pleasure, but you still saw just enough of his tensed up, reddened face as he approached his climax. His hand swiped faster over his cock, still slippery with your saliva, and you were grateful that Rockford was conscious enough to point his cock at your cheek and lips as his hot cum started painting your skin. His breathing was labored and you thought he’d fall over you, but he took a step back and fell into his chair with a heavy sigh. 

Your eyes were closed, and your cunt twitched around Ramon’s cock who wasn’t as invested in his colleague coming on your face as you were. Instead, he was chasing his own pleasure, thinking that you were just conscious enough for it to continue being a consensual encounter. Your hands were almost numb, and you tried to move your fingers. Noticing the movement, Ramon let go of your hips, and loosened the belt.  You took one of your hands out, bringing the tingling limb to your face and running your fingers through the cooling coat of cum covering your cheek.

“Fuck, you filthy little thing,” Ramon moaned, his speed going up, his soft belly pressing into your lower back as his cock continued stretching you open. You felt the familiar tingle coming from the inside of your thighs and concentrating on the twitching bundle of nerves at the top of your slit. If you could talk, you’d beg Ramon to touch it, but all the strength left your body after your first orgasm, the strongest one you’ve had in an embarrassingly long while. Apparently something in your body betrayed your needs, or Ramon was a good fucking lover, but as if he read your mind, his thick fingers found your clit again, rubbing it gently in perfect tempo with his thrusts. 

“Come on, give me one more,” he growled, and you couldn’t disobey. Not when his shaft was molding your insides to fit his perfect shape. Not when the head of his deliciously curved cock was kissing your g-spot with every motion. “Give it to me, mi amor.”

And you did. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, throat too raw to let you make actual noise. Your body convulsed, as if you had a seizure, and maybe you did. Maybe you even blacked out, because you didn’t remember how Ramon pulled out of you at the last moment finishing on the crack of your ass. You thought that you’d been laying there for a week no less before you felt fingers running through the mess on your ass, heard slow footsteps, fingers, someone touching your face, and then fingers again parting your lips and pushing what you understood was the men’s combined cum into your wet mouth. Ramon wiped his digits on your tongue, and then patted your cheek with more gentleness that he’d had for you the entire night. 

He came back around, pushing your skirt that was hiked up at the beginning of the night down, you hissed as the material scratched your abused flesh, but didn’t say a word.

You finally had the strength to push yourself up, your legs trembling and unsteady in your heels. You were scared to imagine what you looked like right now, and your eyes looked around the office trying to find something to look at while your heart found the correct rhythm. Your eyes landed on Tim, who already looked as if he wasn’t just balls deep in your throat mere moments ago. His pants were done, shirt tucked in, the only thing that gave him away was the sheen of perspiration on his forehead and two extra buttons of his shirt undone, revealing his white wife beater that he wore underneath. 

Catching your gaze with his, he slowly stood up, coming to you slowly, like he was afraid to scare a young deer away. 

“Go clean yourself up, okay?” His voice was soft, but determined. “We’ll close the office up, and then we’re gonna wait for you in the car. We’re gonna take you home.”

You shook your head, trying to find the right words to say that you don’t mind repeating what you’d just done, but your body was physically devastated today. No matter how willing your brain was, you were done. “I don’t think…”

“Amor, we’re just going to take you home.” Two strong hands that belonged to your other lover lowered on your waist, his head falling to your shoulder in an uncharacteristically romantic gesture as he warmed your neck with his baritone. You pressed your back closer into his body, feeling the warmth and softness, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be taken care of. “But tomorrow morning you can come over for coffee… and cream.”

You rolled your eyes, knowing full well that there was no way in hell you’d pass on that offer, no matter what it may bring. 

PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKED WHAT YOU'VE JUST READ! FEEDBACK MEANS THE WORLD TO ME <3

#tim rockford x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #iamasaddie fic #tim rockford smut #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x female reader #tim rockford fic #ramon nomar #ramon nomar fic

[wraithlafitte]

coffee and whiskey

pairing: tim rockford x f!reader

CONTENT: angsty romance, love confession, smut - sweet sweet lovemaking, consent/reassuring 🥵, slow erotic undressing due to the many layers of business professional clothing, marking, SO much kissing, oral (f! receiving), tim is a thigh guy and kind of a munch, safe sex, tim talks u thru it, multiple orgasms, cockwarming and cuddling

word count: 3.1k

a/n: my contribution to @iamasaddie's ✏️ writing game :3 this is some of my best work i almost feel like it's wasted on a character i'm not invested in 😭

When Tim finally emerged from his office to refill his coffee mug, he had to stop dead in his tracks. He rubbed his eyes. Was he dreaming?

Stood at the other side of the bullpen, talking to his captain, was a figure all-too-familiar. After all, how could he forget the magnetic presence of the woman he loved?

As if you sensed his presence too, you turned and looked him straight in the eye. You shook the captain's hand and excused yourself, walking towards Tim.

Tim backed into his office and shut the door, leaning against it. Why were you here? You swore you would never come back to the precinct.

A soft knock sounded behind his head. "Tim," you called through the door. "Let me in."

He couldn't resist you. His hand rested on the brass doorknob for a moment before he slowly, warily pulled the door open, allowing you to brush past him into his office.

"What are you doing here?" Tim's voice sounded hoarse. He was white-knuckling the handle of the mug in his hand. #1 DETECTIVE, it claimed. You had given him that mug.

You felt bad for springing this on him, especially when he was in the middle of a big case, as evidenced by the piles of notes and massive standing whiteboard, covered in scribbles and badly printed photos of suspects.

"I transferred back," you told him, giving him a half-hearted smile. "Narcotics was... boring. We're partners again."

"Why? Last time I saw you..." Tim let his voice trail off, not wanting to remind himself of how he'd embarrassed himself at your parting.

"That's just it, Tim." You step closer to him, placing a manicured hand on his arm. "I've been thinking... about what you said."

Tim blinked, surprised. "And?" he husked.

You sighed, dropping your hand. "I was hoping you would come over to my place, and we can talk about it over a nightcap."

He cleared his throat. "Can't. Got work to do."

"It's 11 o'clock. Captain Braumbauer told me to take you home." Your eyes widened as you realized what you had said. You tried to recover, stumbling through your next words. "I mean- not like that, just to- take you somewhere- get you out of the office," you tried.

Tim smiled ruefully. If you weren't so damn cute, it would be easier to tell you no. "Alright," he said. He plunked the mug down on his desk amongst the loose sheafs of paper and grabbed his coat off the hook by the door. "Let's go."

Tim paused in the doorway of your apartment, looking past you into the space that was all-too-familiar, yet strangely alternate to the place he remembered.

You were already in the kitchen, rooting around in your alcohol cabinet. Tim finally worked up the courage to pass the threshold, gently clicking the door shut behind him.

"Make yourself at home," you called. He followed the trail of your shoes, coat, and blazer, stopping in the living room area adjacent to the kitchen. Your back was turned to him as you poured whiskey into a pair of gold-rimmed rocks glasses he had gotten you one Christmas. He admired your hair, spilling over your shoulders, released from the tight updo you had worn to work. Tim always had liked your hair.

You turned around, glasses in hand, and Tim shifted his eyes down, not wanting to let on that he'd been checking you out.

"Let's go sit down," you said softly, handing him a drink. He trailed after you to the couch, perching himself stiffly on the edge. You both sat there in silence awkwardly for a minute, not looking at each other, until finally you took a big swig of your drink for courage and spoke.

"Like I said before, I've been thinking a lot about... you know." The "you know" in question was the reason you had left the precinct in the first place, abandoning the best partner you'd ever had.

Tim sipped on his drink uncomfortably, eyes fixed on the carpet. What were you going to say? Would you confirm or deny his feelings?

"I shouldn't have left like that," you began. "Not after you told me how you felt. I was just... I don't know. Afraid. Of commitment. Of ruining our professional relationship." You sighed, looking up at the popcorn ceiling. "But I guess I did that anyway."

"Yeah," Tim mumbled. Was he hearing you right? Because it sounded like you were telling him you had felt the same way, at least back then.

You cleared your throat, wringing your hands in your lap. "I guess what I'm trying to say is...."

Tim looked expectantly up at you, eyes widening. It would be harder to tell him what you were about to say if he wasn't so damn cute.

"I love you too."

Tim was stunned into silence. He had given up on finding romance at this stage of his life, assuming that his one chance was gone and that he was too old to get another one. Most girls looking to date were in their 20s, after all. But here you were, the woman in his dreams, the object of his desire, equally middling in age and unfairly beautiful, and you wanted him.

You averted your eyes from his gaze. How did you know if he even felt the same way anymore? You had been gone for two years, maybe he got over you-

You heard the sound of a Tim's glass clinking down on the coffee table. A warm, calloused hand snaked under your chin, lifting your head. His eyes were warm and filled with emotion. He just looked at you for a second. Then he pulled you in.

His lips were warm and cracked and he smelled like coffee and whiskey. You melted into him, letting the gravity of his presence overwhelm you, reeling you in like a fish on the proverbial hook. His scruffy beard scratched against your chin as his mouth worked against yours, rubbing your skin raw, but you didn't care.

Tim disconnected his lips from you, resting his forehead against yours. "I love you still," he whispered.

You looped your arms around his neck, pulling his lips back to yours. You hadn't even finished your whiskey, but you were drunk on him, head fuzzy and filled with the taste of his tongue and the feeling of his hands gripping the side of your neck, your waist, creeping up your back to rest between your shoulder blades.

Your arms dropped to his waist, grasping under his suit jacket at his white dress shirt, trying to pull it out of his slacks. You needed to be closer to him. You wanted to crawl inside his skin and live there forever... wait, that sounded creepy.

Tim got the idea and he shucked off his jacket one arm at a time, never breaking the kiss. He firmly grabbed your shirt at the middle of your back and hiked it up out of your navy pencil skirt, exposing your skin to the night air.

Your hands finally found success with his shirt, ravenously pushing it up and out of the way so you could feel the warm skin of his back.

He pulled away, reaching down to loosen his belt, the clink of the metal sending shivers down your spine. You couldn't bear to be away from him this long, you decided, and grabbed him by the straps of his shoulder holster, hauling him over you as you fell back onto the couch, giggling.

Tim looked down at you reverently, eyes shining, and leaned down to plant a firm kiss to the corner of your mouth before sitting back up, hurriedly ridding himself of the holster and his shoes. His hands shook as he tried to unbutton his shirt.

"Hurry up, old man," you teased, eyes twinkling as you sat up to help him. You undid the last few buttons, running your hands up his soft torso and over his bare shoulders, pushing the shirt somewhere behind him to be forgotten.

He gripped your waist and gently laid you down again, pulling a throw pillow to cradle your head. His fingers skated up to the top button of your blouse, then hesitated.

"Is this okay?" Tim murmured, brow knitted together, his big brown doe eyes flashing with doubt.

You take his hand with both of yours and press his palm flat above your heart. "Tim. I love you. I want this."

He smiled shyly, lifting his hand to slowly undo the buttons on your blouse. His breath hitched as your lacy white bra slowly came into view, your smooth breasts rising and falling with every heavy, wanton breath you took. His arm encircled your waist underneath the fabric, lifting you up slightly to pull the blouse away from your body with his other hand.

Tim pressed your body to his and kissed you tenderly, lips traveling down the side of your face, your neck, and your collarbones before finally settling on your breasts, nipping and sucking at the swells above the seam of your bra. Marking you as his.

You arched your back and released a breathy sigh as he moved down your torso, kissing every inch of bare skin, nuzzling into your soft flesh. He got to the waistline of your skirt and you helped him by unhooking and unzipping the side so he could pull it off of you, followed by your nylons.

You looked practically heavenly beneath him, glowing underneath the lamplight. Of course your panties matched your bra, he thought. You were so put-together. He admired that about you.

Thumbing the waistband of your panties, Tim looked up at you for permission. You nodded encouragingly, a gentle, reassuring smile gracing your face, so he hooked his fingers around the waistband and slowly pulled your panties down your legs. Dropping them on the ground, he took hold of your knees, draping one over his shoulder and pressing the other to your chest.

You only felt a little self-conscious about being fully exposed to him while he was still clothed. The way he regarded you, with such adoration, put any doubts in your mind to rest.

"You're so beautiful," Tim whispered, his head dipping down to shower kisses to the inside of your thighs, wrapping around to the swell of your ass and back again. He began to nip at the skin at the base of your left thigh, trying to leave marks there too. Sparks of sensation shot from everywhere his lips touched straight to your core.

When Tim was satisfied with the marks he had left scattered on your thighs, he kissed his way back up to where you wanted him most. He looked glorious between your legs, graying curls tousled, his tanned, strong arms manipulating your body to just the right angle for him.

Seeing the way you looked at him was all Tim needed to take the final step over the line. He placed an open-mouthed kiss to your pussy and dived in, licking into your cunt agonizingly slowly, alternating between lapping up your arousal and sucking on your clit.

Perhaps because you hadn't gotten any for years, or perhaps because Tim was a pussy god, your climax started building remarkably quickly. The fire that burned in your gut was unlike anything you could have lit yourself.

A string of soft moans left your lips as your hands wandered into his hair, clutching him close to you. He groaned slightly at the pressure, the sound rumbling through your core. As he licked into your hole, his nose rubbed against your clit, mustache tickling your center, and you couldn't help but grind against his face. His hands gripped the outside of your thighs, holding you perfectly in place as you rocked in his grasp.

"Taste- so- perfect," Tim mumbled in between licks. You gave a high pitched whine in response, bucking your hips into his face. He was basically making out with your cunt at this point, which shouldn't have been as hot as it was. When he latched onto your clit, looking up at your face to see your reaction, nose shining with your juices, it was too much to bear.

Your eyes screwed shut as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, clasping your fingers tightly into his hair. Your thighs lurched shut around his head. Tim groaned happily, circling his tongue around your clit as he sucked. You came with a cry, powerful waves of pleasure wracking your body as he kept stimulating you until you finally managed to pull him off and squirm away, panting.

Tim covered your spasming core with his hand, pressing down lightly, taking some interest in the way your pussy quivered against his palm. He looked up at you so innocently, face covered in your arousal, and laid his head against your thigh, kissing it gently.

"God, that was good," you said, catching your breath. "How are you so good at that?"

He grinned impishly against your leg. "It's a God-given talent."

You laughed as he crawled over top of you, wiping his mouth and scruff. You took his face in your hands and pulled him in for a kiss. "Take your pants off, Rockford," you tell him sternly, unable to hide your smile.

"Yes ma'am," he replied in mock seriousness, standing to quickly drop his pants and boxers, finally revealing himself to you. God, his cock was pretty, standing at attention and leaking. A new wave of arousal rushed to your core as you realized he got that turned on just by eating you out.

Opening his hand, he revealed a small foil square that must have come from his pocket, back when his pockets were still within reach. He tore it open carefully with his teeth, peeling the rubber out and rolling it down his cock. Part of you was disappointed that he wouldn't be going in raw, because you wanted to feel every bit of his skin, but you also melted at his protectiveness. He was always like that with you, willing to take a bullet or a beating for you.

Tim knelt on the couch above you, arranging your legs around his waist. You put your hands around his torso and pulled him down to kiss him again. You wanted your lips to be attached 24/7 from now on. Okay, maybe that was a little extreme. But you were too drunk on him to care.

He smoothed your hair back from your face. His cock hung heavy against your stomach, and you just wanted him now.

"You ready?" Tim asked gently, his rough fingers stroking your hair where he had pushed it out of your eyes.

"Yes," you whispered, feeling like your heart would explode.

"M'gonna put it in now, okay?" His dark eyes sparkled in the dim light.

You nodded, breath quickening as Tim shifted above you, lining up with your entrance, burying his face in your neck, and-

"Oh," you whimpered as he pushed into you, kissing your neck again and again, whispering praises in your ear. He bottomed out and stayed still, waiting for you to adjust to him.

"Y'okay?" Tim raised his head and looked at you adoringly. You nodded, biting your lip. "Doing so good, baby." He pressed a kiss to your lips and began thrusting slowly.

You wrapped your hands around his strong shoulders and held him close, not wanting to let him get any farther away than necessary. His skin was hot against yours as he moved against you, settling into rhythm. Your hand moved up the back of his neck to lace into his hair, tugging lightly. He groaned and connected his lips to yours once more, mouths moving in passionate time with his hips against yours.

You felt yourself getting close again; the lack of space between you meant that he was grinding down on your clit with every shallow thrust. Your grasp tightened in his hair and your cunt clenched around his cock.

"Damn, baby, if you keep doing that I won't last," Tim grunted against your mouth, gritting his teeth. "Don't have the stamina I used to."

"It's okay," you murmured, planting kisses into his beard. "I love you. I love you," you repeated, voice getting a little frantic. "I love you, oh God Tim, I'm gonna come again!"

"Come on baby, give it to me," he rumbled, holding himself up on one elbow and reaching down to the place you were connected, gathering up some of your slick and using it to rub your clit gently. That same burning, Tim-shaped fire ignited in your core, guided by his cock inside you and his fingers outside you, a double-pronged torrent of sensation that quickly had you coming undone.

Tim growled deep in his throat as you came around his cock, wailing as your second orgasm hit harder than your first. "That's it, baby. Come for me, come for me," he was chanting in your ear as you gasped and spasmed in his embrace. "Feel so good, gonna make me come too," he persisted, voice strained as his thrusts began to falter.

His hips stuttered to a halt and he gave one last deep plunge into your pussy before he kissed you deeply, sending a drawn-out moan down your throat. You felt his cock twitch inside you, filling the condom with his release. Your hand fisted his hair, the other gripping onto his shoulder, holding him close like your life depended on it. His will to hold himself upright gave out and he collapsed gingerly on top of you, finally breaking the kiss and taking in big puffs of air.

You were hot and sticky with his sweat and yours, but you were strangely comfortable. You stroked his hair tenderly, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in his scent. Coffee and whiskey and sex.

"I love you," Tim whispered, turning his face inward to your ear, landing a kiss just below your jaw.

You kissed his shoulder in response. He made an effort to get up, but you pulled him back down. "Let's just stay like this, for a little while." He hummed in agreement, settling down on top of you, still inside you. You ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Thank you for still loving me," you said softly. You had never been more happy to have someone waiting for you.

"How could I not, angel?" Tim murmured back, caressing your face. "You're everything to me. Have been for a long time." He kissed your lips chastely, smiling radiantly.

"You are too," you replied. "Even if I didn't realize it."

dividers by @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

#✏️ game #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford #tim rockford smut #tim rockford x you #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #i actually really like this moodboard style so what if i just start making all my moodboards like this #userwraith