#Tim Rockford x black reader

[dc418writes]

|Bump in the Night|

✨Pairing✨: Tim Rockfordxblack!reader

Summary🪄: You can always count on Tim

🚨: attempted break in/breaking and entering, mention of stalking, brief mention of gun(s), language, violence (man-man), ends in fluff tho💕

A/N🎤: hello☺️! This is my submission to @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope event (I’m so sorry that it’s much later than the deadline/expected😓). Everyone please support the other works that were submitted and I hope you enjoy what I came up with🌸

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest. Although my works are imagined with a black reader, all are welcome to read💕*

Trope: friends to lovers

Hearing the familiar address come across his police scanner, Tim couldn’t care less about the lawyer that was supposed to be under his surveillance. His silver Honda Civic practically floating over the asphalt as he sped towards the apartment complex.

Specifically, yours.

“No apparent injuries to occupant. No ambulance needed.”

Tim’s grip on the wheel slightly loosens at that. Although he was still stressed not completely knowing what happened yet, at least you were currently safe and unharmed. Minutes later, his car screeches to a stop in the parking lot already occupied by a flashing patrol car.

“Detective Rockford?,” the young officer - he still couldn’t remember his name after all this time - asks slightly startled from seeing the usually stoic and aloof man. “What-?”

“Where is she?” His steps never falter and the younger officer - Davey? Casey? - has to lightly jog to catch up with the detective on a mission.

“She?”

“The victim.”

“Oh! Currently with Daniels as he does a final sweep.”

“Still nothing?,” Tim asks as they both finally arrive on your floor from their ascent up the stairs. He wasn’t surprised to see the elevators out again. There was always something wrong with this place which is why he tried urging you to another complex.

“True it’s not perfect, but it’s not terrible. I’ll be fine Tim,” you assured with that sweet smile that could warm the coldest of hearts.

“Just some shifted furniture, nothing missing yet. We tried dusting for prints, but perp was smart enough to use gloves.”

Walking in to see your nervous expression - lip worried between your teeth as your arms wrapped around yourself - had a storm of emotions swirling he’d never experienced all at once. Relief that he could physically see you were unharmed. Rage at whoever did this. Finally, a sense of protectiveness wanting to make sure this never happened to you again.

By any means.

“T-Tim?,” you asked finally meeting his eyes. Immediately he’s crossing the few feet between you to hug you close. Gently rocking you back and forth as you savor the much needed comfort.

“Let’s uh give them some privacy Kaz,” Daniels whispers. “Kazinski!,” Tim thought as he finally remembered the man’s name. Wow he was way off.

“What happened?”

“Well,” you sigh, “I came home and the door was cracked open. Something didn’t feel right this time though-,”

“Wait, this time? Someone’s done this before?”

You slowly nod. “Well, then again I could’ve accidentally-,”

“We both know you didn’t leave it open. You never leave your door open or unlocked.”

Too many times you were the one reminding him to make sure he’d locked up both his house and car. Always on the go with mind focused on other things, there’s a very strong chance he’d leave his head home if it wasn’t attached to him.

“Why didn’t you call me?,” he asks with deep brown eyes full of concern and slight hurt.

“I didn’t wanna interrupt your case. Plus it’s nothing I can’t handle on my own.”

“But you don’t have to do it on your own,” he sighs. Your hyper-independence just might be the death of him. “Grab some clothes and whatever else you need, you’re staying with me.”

“Tim-,”

“If you think I’m leaving you here tonight you don’t know me as well as I thought,” he simply counters sitting in one of your wooden dining room chairs waiting for you to get your things with arms crossed against his chest.

There’s no use in arguing when his mind is set - which tends to be often. All you can do is what he says swiftly turning towards your bedroom and softly padding down the short hall.

-

Phone to his ear, Tim can’t help the smile that forms at your sweet voice. Deep inside he feels like that giddy teenager again excited and in slight disbelief that he finally gets the chance to talk to the prettiest girl in school.

“Hey, just uh wanted to check on you. Make sure you made it in okay.”

“Yep just got the last of the groceries in,” you smile locking the door behind you. “Hey don’t pick up anything to eat! I’m making lasagna.”

This is how it’s been for the past week. Tim checking to see you made it in and how your day had gone before you both discussed your plan for dinner that night.

And he loved the domesticity of it all. Never did he think he’d say that, typically preferring to be alone so he could come and go as he pleased with no one constantly in his ear. But there was something about coming home to warm meals and music softly playing in the background that had an unexpected calm rushing over him.

Then again, maybe all those new things he was feeling - now wanting every day and wondering how he thought life was better without it - was from you.

“Sounds great, I’m gonna be a bit late getting in though so don’t wait on me to eat.”

“Oh, okay.” Your disappointed tone has him ready to quit if it’ll make you happy again. “I take it there’s good news on the case?”

“Yea and new evidence that potentially puts us closer to solving this.”

“And freeing-?”

“That I can’t discuss. You and I both know,” he softly chuckles. At your little huff he can already picture you rolling those dangerously perfect eyes.

“Okay,” you pout, “I guess I’ll see you later then. Be careful.”

“I will. I’ll try not to be too long.”

Saying your final goodbyes, he’s embarrassingly greeted by the smirk of officer Daniels while he leans against the doorframe of his office.

“Soo the infamous friend..,” he states with a knowing grin.

“Don’t.”

“Can’t blame you, she’s really sweet. Not to mention beautiful-,”

The mix of annoyance and anger on Tim’s face is enough to stop Daniels in his tracks making him deeply chuckle with hands up in defeat. “Relax, I come in peace.”

“Wishing you didn’t at all,” Tim mumbles causing more chuckles from the man in front of him.

“Don’t think you’ll say that after you see this.” Gently placing the folder on his desk, Tim’s brow raises as he curiously flips open the gray cover. “Pretty sure this is our guy.”

-

You think you’re still dreaming when you hear that first click. Another - followed by a scrape against the hardwood - has your eyes quickly opening trying to register what was happening. You can faintly make out the bedroom thanks to the sliver of yellow-gold coming from the hall light as you slowly sit up. Not finding Tim asleep in his usual recliner in the corner of the room, you wonder if it’s him finally returning home.

“Tim?!”

The heavy footsteps - seemingly pacing back and forth - pause, and you feel an uneasiness creep over you at the momentary silence. A shadow of something to come you couldn’t quite place.

As the footsteps grow closer, that unease sets off alarms at the realization that those steps were heavier than Tim’s. He doesn’t wear boots…

It’s as if the intruder senses they’re caught in that same moment increasing their speed towards your bedroom. Luckily you bound from the bed locking the door mere seconds before they reach the knob furiously twisting and banging against the door trying to enter.

Amid the pounding in your chest and ears, you’re focused enough to lock yourself in the adjoining restroom and lie in the tub with trembling hands covering your mouth. Tears slowly slipping down your cheeks while wishing for the darkness to take you before the stranger can.

On the third hard thud, the room door breaks from its hinges startling you and sending screws scattering to the floor - and no doubt chips of wood.

“I know you’re in here. Might as well come out now, it’s only a matter of time before I find you.”

That familiar voice sends goosebumps down your body and bile stinging your throat.

His laugh isn’t a humorous one stepping across the threshold. Wood creaking and cracking under his weight. “I don’t know why you’re making me do this. Things could be so much easier if you’d just…listen.”

The echo of your vibrating phone carries into the bathroom making more tears spring from your eyes. Tim would be home any moment coming face to face with this man who wouldn’t stop until he got what he wanted. Possibly unarmed not expecting danger in what was supposed to be his safe haven.

A danger you ultimately caused.

If something happened to Tim-

“You run to him, but he’s not even here for you! Huh, some protector.”

If you weren’t so terrified, you’d easily be ready to defend your friend. Fight for him just as he’s always fought for you.

Hearing the bed squeak, you know he’s probably leaning on it to lift the cover’s edge and peek in the space under. Not finding you there, you figure there’s only seconds before he’s barging into your hiding place and doing God knows what.

“Guess you won’t believe me until you see for yourself though.” His tone hushes to just above a whisper taking a step closer. Then another, and you’re surprised he hasn’t said anything about your heartbeat how it surely could be heard thudding in your chest. “Fine with me doll.”

Flashes of what that could mean enter your mind only making you sob harder. A sheen of sweat breaking along your body anxiously waiting on that fearful moment the life you once knew would be over.

Rather than the cracking of another broken door, you’re met with Tim’s gruff voice yelling for the intruder to freeze and allowing you to finally breathe. His trusty black handgun drawn and trained on his target daring the stranger to move. “It’s over Kane. Down on your knees with hands on your head.”

Surprisingly he follows Tim’s instructions, slowly kneeling down on one knee then the other. Once his hands are in the right position, handcuffs are being tightened around his wrist and a solid blow sent to his ribs causing Kane to painfully grunt as he keels over.

“That’s assault!”

This time his cheek receives the punch immediately reddening the tan skin under his left eye - and Tim’s knuckles in the process. “Where is she?!”

Kane just darkly chuckles. “You tell me. Aren’t you the detective?” His smug jokes are no more feeling cold metal against his temple. A quick click signaling how the weapon was ready to fire at any moment Tim chose.

“Last fucking chance! Tell me-,”

He hears your cries the same moment Daniels and Kazinski rush into the bedroom with guns drawn themselves. Immediately they take over, hoisting the slightly battered man to his feet and reading him his rights, while Tim hurries to retrieve you. His heart breaking the moment he sees you visibly shaken in the tub with tears staining your face.

“I’m here honey it’s okay,” he attempts to soothe quickly gathering you in his arms. Your face instinctively buries itself in his neck finding comfort in the scratch of his beard and smell of tobacco mixed with sandalwood and his earlier cups of coffee. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner.”

It’s a few moments before you can find your voice again; even then it prickles climbing your throat and escapes in a hoarse whisper. “H-How did you know?”

“Your coworker told us about him. How he was banned because he came to the job every day bothering you. Daniels looked into him and we found…”

The way his Adams Apple bobs you can tell he’s struggling for his next words. Probably trying to soften a blow that would surely worsen your already destroyed mental and emotional state.

He clears his throat rubbing a soothing hand up and down your arm. “There was enough evidence that led us to believe he’d try something. We rushed here as soon as we could.”

Just when you thought your heart had been through enough. You could read between the lines and knew what Tim meant by evidence, and it made that queasy, unsettled feeling return. Kane found the somewhat secluded house of your best friend, who’s to say another of your friends wasn’t next? Your family even.

Hot tears - summoned from some unknown hidden reserve - begin to soak his shoulder as he slowly rocks you back and forth. Tim’s thick arms holding your shaking body tighter. Little did you know it was as much for him as you.

“He-He’s n-never gonna stop…is he?,” you direct more so to the open air. “Everyone I know-,”

“Hey hey listen to me,” Tim gently starts. His hands slightly pushing you away before moving to caress your face so you’d have no choice but to meet his sympathetic and caring eyes. “We got him. He can’t, and won’t, do anything to you or anybody else.”

“But-,”

“Even if - and it’s a very very small if - he tried something, I love you too much to let something happen.”

Maybe it was the overwhelm of emotions from such an eventful night. Maybe it was how Tim cradled your face - practically dwarfed by his larger hands - looking at you as if you were his most prized possession given by some high deity themselves. And maybe it was your hidden feelings finding a hopeful hook to latch onto that he felt the same about you. Either way, you couldn’t stop your lips from meeting his; moving so smoothly together it’s as if you’ve done this plenty of times.

Just pulling back an inch, Tim’s quick to follow smashing your lips together again as if he was addicted already. Inwardly, it makes you giggle. Feeling fuzzy and light as if dancing on the brightest sun ray on a spring day.

“We’re gonna take him downtow- oh..”

Forgetting where you were, Daniel’s voice is a startling reminder as you quickly part turning your heated face away from the bathroom’s entrance. Meanwhile, Mr. Rockford appears dazed attempting to act anything but trying to focus on his co-worker who just said..something important? “Um…y-yea Kane! We gotta-,”

“It’s taken care of Rockford,” Daniel’s answers professionally hiding his chuckles in his rock solid chest. Wait till he gets home to tell his wife this tea. Hell, he’ll have to text her on the way this was too good. “You uh take care of things here. I’ll keep you updated. Have a good night guys.”

And just as he said, Tim’s kept to his word almost a year later. Lying in your now shared bed with you perfectly molded to his side - your new home just outside of town in the relaxing countryside - he presses a loving peck to your forehead careful not to disturb your pleasant sleep. Watching you go so long without, it gives him a new layer of joy that Kane could no longer steal that from you. Your arm slung over his middle, his chest swells looking at the square cut diamond shining on your finger just waiting for you to wake up and notice it. To say yes to the question he’s been hoping you’d give him the chance to ask for some time now.

And down the line, maybe even build your little family giving you both a reason to decorate and fill the empty room across the hall.

[sugadolly]

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

[something-tofightfor]

Birthday Kiss #6: Tim Rockford

Pairing: Tim Rockford x Female Reader (Black Days Pairing)

Word Count: 1,290 (whoops.)

Rating: M - but this one's a little darker. Mentions of police work / on the job dangers.

Summary: A Birthday Cake Kiss

Author’s note: 9 Pedro Characters. 9 Birthday Smooches. These are very lightly edited because they're supposed to be quick. Wanted to give all of you a gift to celebrate my birthday - Detective Rockford came to the party.

This is the Black Days pairing... in the future, and with a couple of hints about things to come sprinkled in.

You knew that the sick feeling in your stomach wouldn't go away until you were sure that Tim was safe. 

He’d texted you earlier in the day, just after your lunch break and asked you to call if you had a second. And when you did call, you’d known something was wrong immediately, his voice hesitant but still somehow calm as he told you that he was taking part in a raid later that afternoon, and that he’d let you know when it was over and he was back at the station.

That wasn’t new - you’d been with Tim long enough that he’d made several arrests based on warrants and even done a few busts since you’d met him. But the specific case he was calling about was different, and he hadn’t made it a secret to you that when and if the arrests happened, there would likely be danger. 

You appreciated the warning. You appreciated the call. And you appreciated that Tim hadn’t tried to downplay the seriousness of the situation whatsoever the most. But that didn’t mean that  for the rest of the day at work, you checked your phone every few minutes and your local news stations just as often to make sure that nothing had gone wrong. 

And it didn’t - until about 6:30 when the news cut in with a special report while you were making dinner. You turned the burner on the stove off, heading from the kitchen and into the living room to take a seat on the couch, both hands covering the lower half of your face. 

The raid hadn’t just gone wrong, there was an active police standoff in the building, and the entire area was cordoned off while they called SWAT in. You watched for almost two hours, what you’d been cooking siting forgotten in the kitchen and fighting back the urge to text Tim - scouring every pixel on your TV screen for even a glimpse of him. 

But there was nothing - the news crews were too far back to give you any real look at the scene, but the fact that he hadn’t gotten in touch with you told you that Tim and his team were likely fully involved… and you were terrified. It made you understand exactly what he must have felt when it came to you being in danger, and you hated it.

You were even more terrified when the scrolling ticker at the bottom updated to report that shots had been fired and there were injuries, but that until the situation was resolved, there was no way to know who was hurt, or exactly what happened. 

And when the story changed four times in twenty minutes, you finally turned the TV off and just started pacing in the open space between the couch and  the kitchen counter, arms crossed over your chest and your teeth nearly chewing a hole through your lower lip. 

He was going to be ok. If something had happened to him, you would have gotten a call - either from the hospital or from one of Tim’s coworkers. You tried to convince yourself that even though it was nerve-wracking, the silence was a good thing… maybe even the best thing. 

You were sitting out on his patio in the dark, your phone on the table in front of you when you heard the glass door slide open behind you, followed by the sound of your name. Your heartbeat stuttered, and before you could even think about speaking, you were on your feet, spinning to face Tim. 

He looked terrible - his hair out of place, the white shirt he wore covered in dirt and one sleeve torn at the shoulder seam. Tim hadn’t even pulled off his shoulder holsters, though when you wound your arms around him and hugged him tightly, you felt that they were empty. “Whoa, wait a second, you -”

He swore, one hand pressing to your lower back, and at the sound, you stepped away, frowning. “Tim? What are -” He was looking down and you did, too, your eyes going wide at the sight of the piece of cake that was smashed and on the ground beside your feet. “What is that?”

“It was birthday cake.” He took a deep breath, and when you looked back at him, you saw that Tim was frowning, disappointment apparent on his face. “I stopped and got it for you on my lunch break because I figured I wouldn’t have time after we finished, and I was … right.” 

You covered your mouth again with one hand, inhaling sharply. In the chaos of Tim’s raid and the following debacle, you’d legitimately forgotten it was your birthday in your concern for his safety. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… I was just so happy to see you, Tim. Are you alright? Did everything … are you hurt? Your shirt is -” 

“I’m fine.” He closed his eyes, sighing. “Scraped up a little, and I’m gonna have bruises on my knees and probably my belly because I got shot, but -”

“What?!” You backed away fully, jaw dropping. “You got fucking-”

“I was wearing a vest.” He held up a hand, shaking his head. “I’m fine. None of us got hurt, but a couple of the people we were trying to arrest weren’t so lucky.” He didn’t elaborate further, and so you took a few more seconds to look him over - the low light on the patio doing him no favors when it came to making him look less exhausted. “Think the cake’s a lost cause, though.” 

Despite the severity of the situation, you smiled at his words, reaching out with one hand to run your knuckles along his jawline. “Maybe not.” He looked confused and watched as you crouched down, swiping your fingertips through the part of the cake that wasn’t touching the ground before you stood and collecting a glob of it there. “Looks like we can still taste it.” 

He didn’t expect you to hold your hand out toward him, but when you did, one eyebrow raised and a half smile on your face, Tim leaned forward and parted his lips to take a bite. He smiled at the taste of it, but when he straightened up he was frowning again, chewing and swallowing before he spoke. “It was your cake. So why did I get to -”

“Because it’ll taste better this way.” You stepped closer, mindful of his injuries, and placed your hand on his hip, carefully resting the forearm of the hand with the frosting-tipped fingers on his shoulder. “Thank you for coming home to me, Tim.” You saw his eyes flash at your words, the reaction accompanied by a single, sharp nod of his head.

He was prepared for the kiss, and you tasted the lingering sweetness from the frosting as soon as your lips connected - but that wasn’t enough. He encouraged you by settling his hands on your sides and pulling you closer, and you slid your hand up the center of his back until you could curl your fingers around the center of the holster strap, the leather soft against your palm. 

As the kiss continued, you felt him shifting under your touch - the muscles in his back flexing, the tilt of his head changing so that he could more easily deepen the kiss and Tim sighing into your mouth, you finally felt the tension bleed from you. 

When he pulled away for air, you both sighed again, though neither of you said anything right away, and neither of you let go of the other. And when he finally did speak, his voice was stronger again, the sound more similar to what you were used to. “I’m always gonna come home to you.” 

---

[alraedesigns]

Just a quick scene from chapter 1 of Black Days by @something-tofightfor I'm so behind on all of my Pedro reading but I really hope he gets his key lime pie 🥧

If you're a Pedro fan and love reader inserts, you have to check out Rachael's masterlist. She's covers a huge chunk of his characters and has written boatload of wonderful content!

[iamasaddie]

but we did hook up though

Renaldo Domingo x f!reader

summary: you were very impressed by the performance on of the groom's guests gave, and you decided to tell him that. later, he was very impressed by your performance, too. or you hook up with a handsome rich old guy who's never left his fuckboy era on your friend's wedding. warnings: PWP (quickie, "fear" of getting caught, blowjob, PinV, hair pulling, questionable dirty talk, very light choking, one face slapping, very light degradation if i can even call it that); Reynaldo is a toxic fuckboy of a man, he's obnoxious but doesn't understand that; NOT EDITED word count: 2k a/n: don't look at me have you seen those hip thrusts? i had to. also please make him the next tim rockford you guys PLEASE (i mean please start writing fic about him based on 60 second appearance)

It was hard not to notice him when it looked like he was everywhere your eyes went. A tall, broad man in a polo that was worth more than the grooms tuxedo. He was loud and obnoxious, but damn he knew how to move. 

You were sipping on your third greyhound– this one felt mostly like grapefruit juice but you didn’t mind– and you were watching him like a hawk.

Weddings weren’t your thing– none of the social gatherings were, if you were honest– but you made an effort for your friend, and she looked magnificent in white. Even more magnificent as her now husband swirled her on the dance floor just a few meters away from his friend? Ex situationship? You had no idea. But if you were lucky enough that man was swinging both ways and you were gonna drag him to your side of the court tonight.

“You put a hell of a show today,” you batted your eyes at the man who was calling a bartender with a snap of his fingers. Rude. 

He waited a moment before turning his head to you and scanned your body up and down without an ounce of shame before replying.

“Didn’t even try, sugar. I’m just that good.” 

Every fiber of your being hated men like him: preppy, daddy’s money paved the way for him and opened every door that he didn’t even bother walking into. A gold chain dangling over his neck to secure his fuckboy status, and a look of a spoiled brat that better suited 20-year-olds and not someone with greys in his hair. 

But he was so fucking hot. You hated the betraying nature of your body that was reacting to him like that. Hated that the slick arousal escaped your pussy and dampened your thighs because you skipped panties in a dress like that.

“I didn’t see you on the dancefloor.” He wasn’t even looking at your face, your tits hugged by a cocktail dress commanding all of his attention.

“Not a big fan of the attention, and the crowd. And weddings, to be honest.” He finally looked you in the eyes, a glint of mischief hiding in his browns. He gave you a pearly white smile before leaning closer. 

“I know a pretty crowd-less and quiet place.”

“Just like that?” Unfortunately, you were too impressed with his baldness to slap him.

“Why not?” He shrugged his shoulders, “you’re hot, I’m hot.” His eyes once again drew a path down your body. “Plus, you’re not wearing panties, and I’m already half hard.”

“I don’t even know your name,” you huffed. He stretched out a hand and when you took it it shocked you how hot his skin was comparing to yours. Like he was burning up. 

“I’m Renaldo Domingo.”

He didn’t ask what your name was.

“It’s not the bridal suit, is it?” You whispered, his mouth already wetting the skin of your neck with rushed kisses.

“No, but it’s a good idea…”

“No, not a good idea.”

You pushed him deeper in the room. It was pitch black, the night already settled on the city, and Reynaldo fumbled to find a light switch. A lamp in the corner of the room lit everything up in a gentle yellow glow.

“So you liked the way I moved, huh?” His cocky tone was exasperating, but instead of making you get up and leave it made you tug on his belt with extra vigor. You settled on the soft pink couch and he stood above you, his bulging crotch a threat to your throat. 

“Yeah, so I decided to test the stereotype.”

“What stereotype?” He unzipped the pants and stopped for a moment.

“If it’s true that good dancers are also good fuckers.”

Renaldo chuckled loudly, but the laughter stopped the moment his pants dropped along with his tacky Hugo Boss boxers. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of your genuine reaction, but couldn’t stop your jaw from dropping, eliciting another cocky ‘mhm, that’s right baby’ from the man.

He wasn’t even fully hard and he was still intimidating. Thick like a soda can, you doubted that thing would physically fit in your throat. His cock was veiny and came with a set of low hanging but very big balls. 

“You should work with your pretty mouth first, and then if you do well I’ll show you how good of a lover I am.” 

His hand went to your face, a manicured thumb dragged aline from the corner of your painted lips to your ear, tucking a strand of your hair behind it. Then he placed his hand on top of your head with zero concerns about your hairstyle and slowly forced you to move your face closer to his cock that was starting to grow bigger from your proximity.

You swallowed a big glob of saliva, and stuck your tongue out giving him an experimental lick. You knew how to suck cocks, you were actually very good at it, so why on earth were you nervous now?

When a low rumble of his moan shattered the silence you smiled. Damn right, you might suck at dancing but you were a top notch cock sucker.

With more confidence now your small hand travelled up his hairy thigh and found his balls, cupping the globes and slowly massaging them as you helped yourself with your other hand to put his cock in your mouth.

He was salty and a bit sweaty from all the dancing, but you didn’t mind. On the contrary, your mouth closed tighter aroun him as you took as much as you could inside, feeling him grow as you started to bob your head up and down.

“Yes, baby, suck this cock. I knew it from the moment I saw you you were gonna wrap those pretty lips around my cock.” 

Renaldo’s hand grabbed your hair tighter, pulling at it to control the speed at which he wanted you to take him. It was faster that what you were ready for and you sputtered your saliva on your chin and tits as you gagged on him.

“What? Too big for your tiny mouth?” His tone was condescending, almost mocking. Your dress was drenched in your arousal where you sat on it. 

The hand you kept on his cock squeezed him tighter as your tongue swirled around his leaking head. You gave yourself a moment to breathe and concentrate before doing something you weren’t sure you were possible of. Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, you started pushing his cock deeper in your mouth and then further down your throat. It kicked every thought you had out of your brain, it was just him everywhere. Renaldo went rigid under you and both of your held your breath. 

One, two, three, four, five, si–

He pulled on your hair forcing you to release his cock and look at him with teary, red eyes.

“Fuck, that was.” He was breathing rapidly and you saw a patch of his hair sticking out from the side, he must’ve been grabbing it as he tried to stave off his orgasm. “Almost spilled in your pretty mouth, baby. And then you would’ve never known how good of a lay I am.”

You tried to calm your own breath, your chest rising and falling quickly, hypnotizing the man with the softness. Before you could calm down he grabbed you by the hand getting you off the sofa, and then took you by the waist, lifting you up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his middle, the material of his polo soft but foreign. The silk of your dress bunched up exposing your slick wet pussy to Renaldo’s exploration.

He pressed you into the wall. His mouth was on yours but instead of kissing you he just kept whispering filthy words that fell right on your tongue.

“Wet, just like I thought, huh. Slutty little pussy got wet from struggling to take me? Drooling like a bitch just from crying on my cock?”

“Shut up and just fuck me already,” you hissed in his mouth. While one of his hands still held you another slapped your cheek, rendering you speechless. 

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that.”

His eyes got dark and serious for a split moment before he plastered a cocky smile back on his face.

Both of his hands returned to your thighs, your back whining from the less than gentle collide with the wall, and he didn’t even give you a warning before punching his cock up your hole.

“Fuck,” you cried. He was thick and rigid inside you. Stinging intrusion made you pliant like a ragdoll in his hands, the only tense part of you was your pussy that stretched and stretched to take him deeper. To have more of him.

He didn’t laugh, didn’t smile. The veins on his neck and forehead bulged with extortion as he pushed his dick in and out of you with the same rhythm he had on the dance floor. 

“Choking me real good, sugar. Choking me like a good little girl.”

You threw your head back, not even feeling the pain from hitting the wall. Your body was covered in chills, the man fucked you so good that you couldn’t even be annoyed with him anymore. His cock felt magical spreading your walls, molding you to every vein, every ridge he had. Kissing you deeper than anyone before could.

You felt a sweet sensation of the upcoming orgasm, your nipples got hard against the silk and you wished you could pinch them, but you just continued holding Renaldo by the shoulders.

“Choke me.”

"Your eyes snapped open and you saw him looking at you very seriously.

“Wh–”

“Put your pretty tiny hand around my throat and choke me a little, baby.” He snapped his hips faster, showing you he’s not joking, he was as close as you were. “Choke me while I play with your clit, come on.”

You were somewhat aware what you were doing, having had the reverse experience before, but you made sure you didn’t press too hard.

His face went still as he found your throbbing clit with his thump and drew fast circles around it. You were sure you would’ve came even if he didn’t do that, but hell that felt good. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you didn’t recognize your feverish whispers as your body tensed up around the man and you choked him in two different places simultaneously.

“Good. Fucking. Pussy.” The man hoarsed out, thrusting each word into you with force while thick cum spilled out of his cock in hot bursts. 

You were both breathless, your hand now just a second necklace around his neck, not squeezing anymore but just laying there, feeling his pulse as you tried to slowly come down from the high you took each other to.

“So, was the stereotype right? Do I fuck as good as I dance?” His belt jingled too loudly for the darkness the room was set into again.

You dropped your head and shook it, biting your lip. He didn’t. He fucked way better.

PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT AND REBLOG!

@bonezone44 @toxicanonymity @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy

[shirks-all-responsibilities]

Just devoured your Tim Rockford oneshots collection (what you did to that screencap in that masterlist header?? It looks like a novel cover??? Always in awe of your graphics/editing skills) and I am swooooning over his relationship with reader, I can't get enough of giving the most mature Pedro boy a partner/love interest that matches his intellect and shares his general career field/interests, obsessssed!

"When you looked back at him, once the shirt was up and over your head, he was adjusting himself where he was sitting up against the headboard of the bed, his glasses now folded on top of the book he had been reading when you’d entered the room."

I was lost in a reverie after reading this line...imagining Tim propped against the headboard reading a book with READING GLASSES perched on that chiseled nose?? How he would fold and put them on top of the book with such competent delicacy?? Protecting the glass?? What kind of frames they would be?? Delicate wires?? Thicc frames that accent his bone structure????? How he would look gazing at you over them?? Halppp.....

How Tim keeps "adjusting" 😏 his position on the bed, how he has so much patient self-control, observing and waiting, engaging her in conversation and her interest...her gentle tease, the domesticity and comfy sexy vibes I am just yearninggggggg...

oct' 21 x acorns

Prompt: acorns Pairing: tim rockford x f!reader Word Count: 724 Warnings: T+ mentions of crimes & a touch of spice. Summary: pretty proud of this one and it's use of the prompt 😋 tim knows the way to your heart is discussing the latest research for your podcast.

x. masterlist

“Acorns? You moving into squirrel crimes now sweetheart?”

“Ha ha,” you responded dryly,  “ACORNS, the Australian Cybercrime Online Reporting Network.” He raised an eyebrow in interest, you weren’t sure if this was the result of learning what the acronym was for or if it had something to do with you starting the process of peeling off your t-shirt.

When you looked back at him, once the shirt was up and over your head, he was adjusting himself where he was sitting up against the headboard of the bed, his glasses now folded on top of the book he had been reading when you’d entered the room.

“So,” he began, a soft smile playing at his lips as he crossed his arms at his bare chest, “what’s caught your eye?” he asked.

You smiled back at him, a genuine one - he knew the way to your heart, true crime.

“So,” you started, turning to the dresser as you unhooked your bra, “so they were seeing an increase in reports on ACORNS, right? You've got your standard mix of fraud, identity theft, all the usual cybercrime stuff. Nothing to write home about right?”

“But?” Tim pressed, playing along.

“But what got me curious was a pattern of crimes that looked like random, disconnected incidents targeting average people. We're talking about everything from a cafe owner in Sydney to a retired nurse in Perth. And this has been going on for years.”

"Years?" Tim echoed, intrigued. "And they're just noticing this now?"

“Exactly!” you replied enthusiastically, tossing your bra into the laundry hamper and reaching into the dresser for one of Tim’s oversized shirts, what he wore when he actually had more than five minutes at home between cases. “The reports have only now been made public, and by the looks of it it’s taken them this long to even realize something might be off, and because it’s public knowledge, it’s caught the attention of the armchair detectives who are digging in, but no one can find a connection.”

Tim shifted in his seat again, tapping his fingers against his chest thoughtfully. “Not entirely strange though,” he said. “Cyber crimes are still relatively new. Many countries are sitting on data that they just don’t know what to do with besides selling it. Though, with any crime, patterns usually emerge sooner or later, someone slips up. Have they found anything that could point to a single culprit or group?”

“Nothing. Zilch. That's why it's so bizarre,” you said, shimming out of your jeans and kicking them off before walking over to sit beside him on the bed. “But here's where it gets interesting. When you compare these Australian cases to similar crimes reported in neighbouring countries like New Zealand or Indonesia, little patterns start to stand out.”

Tim raised an eyebrow, his attention fully piqued. “What kind of patterns are we talking about?”

You grinned, thrilled by his obvious interest. “Teeny tiny little anomalies,” you took his glasses and book and placed them on your bedside table, “Specific coding sequences, certain times of the day when the attacks occur, even certain types of targets that are more frequently hit in both regions. Individually, these little things don't really mean much. But when you start looking at them collectively and across borders, it’s like a constellation. You begin to see the outline of something much bigger.”

“Sounds like someone's running a long con,” Tim observed.

He uncrossed his arms as you swung your leg over to straddle his hips, your arms wrapping around his neck to rest on his broad shoulders.

“That's what I'm thinking too,” you said, your voice low as you leaned in to place a kiss on his lips.

Tim's hands slid up your sides, his fingers grazing the bare skin of your back under the t-shirt, “You really shouldn't have bothered.” he said, his voice low and husky.

You leaned in closer, your breath hot against his ear, “Bothered with what?” you whispered feigning cluelessness, trailing kisses down his neck.

“The shirt,” Tim replied, tilting his head back to grant you better access. “You're much better without it.”

You laughed softly, the sound sending shivers down his spine. “I needed something to wear.”

“Who said you needed to wear anything at all?” Tim countered, flipping you both over so he was on top of you.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Date Night

Summary: When Tim didn't pick you up for a date night he planned, you knew that you would find him back at his office. Intending to make him beg for your forgiveness you take yourself in your slutty outfit to the station to find out what Tim will do to make up for forgetting about you.

Pairing: Tim Rockford x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: established relationship, smut (oral f receiving; unprotected sex), a whole lot of making out, semi public sex, food, surprise at the end

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Full Masterlist // Pedro Pascal Masterlist

You knew he would have a good reason, he always has. 

The passion he has for his job is one of the reason you love him so much. 

That did not mean that it didn’t hurt when 7 pm turned to 8 and to 9 pm without a single text or call. 

You had been looking forward to today. 

Pretending to work from home while you took an everything shower and shaved every inch of your body. You scrubbed and moisturised your skin with the lotion you knew Tim loved the smell of. 

You put the slutty black mesh body on, needing almost ten minutes to have all the straps in place, rolling the silky stockings up your equally silky thighs, connecting them to the suspenders of the flimsy body you were wearing. 

You looked fucking hot, thighs pressing together at the thought of what Tim would do to you once he finally got you home and naked. 

You reached for the deep green velvet dress you loved, running your fingers over the soft fabric that reached just above your knees before you searched for some heels. 

You didn’t wear them often, but you loved the way your ass looked when you wore them, so you would suffer the couple steps to and from the car.

Tim had made reservations for dinner at the restaurant you had your first date at.

This date night was actually his idea and you, silly little you thought that maybe, maybe he’d pop the big question tonight. 

You had been dating for four years, living together for three. 

Marriage was not something you really discussed, but you both wanted to get married eventually. And with the effort he had put into tonight you got enough signals to actually gotten your nails done yesterday after work. 

But now, at 9:05 pm without Tim having picked you up or having reacted to any message or call you placed on his work and mobile phone you were mad. 

Because you knew, as one of his colleagues who actually picked up his phone told you, that he was in the station. In his office. 

You weren’t someone who made a big deal of when he stayed too long at work. You knew he was a workaholic, though it had gotten a lot better since you moved in. 

But tonight you had the fuck me heels on, and fuck you wanted to spend the night with your hunk of a boyfriend. 

So, after another twenty more minutes of waiting and brooding over feelings like a stupid neglected girlfriend, you got up and grabbed your keys. 

You made sure the red lipstick you had put on was still perfect on your lips before you went to your car to pay a visit to Tim. 

There were only a few cars left in the parking lot as you parked your car next to Tim’s. You made sure your boobs looked good before you exited the car and made your way towards the police station. 

You knew the people who worked here, having spend countless barbecues and birthdays with them, so when you opened the door to walked in you made sure to say Hello to everyone. 

„Damn, you look hot,“ one of Tim’s female colleagues whistled and you grinned. 

„I know,“ you said with a wink, „He in?“ You gestured in the direction of Tim’s office. She nodded. 

„Yeah. He’s been in there since lunch. Got some new evidence in,“ she explained. 

„That might explain why he forgot he was taking me out to dinner tonight,“ you said and she made a face. 

„Idiot,“ she rolled her eyes and you shrugged with pursed lips. 

„Any of the other detectives still in?“

„Nah. They went home. Got the end of the floor all to yourselves,“ she winked and you gave her a bashful smile before you made your way towards his office. 

You could see the light on behind one single door at the end of the floor and you opened it without knocking, finding Tim sitting behind his desk, dress shirt halfway unbuttoned, tied loosened, still wearing his shoulder holsters. 

Various emotions flickered over his face as he looked up to find you standing in his door. 

Surprise, clearly.

Hunger, as his eyes wandered over your form.

Love, always. 

And then there it was, his eyes widening as regret set in. 

He looked away from you for a second, his eyes finding the clock on the wall. 

„Oh fuck,“ he shook his head, looking at you, getting up from behind his desk. 

„I totally forgot the time, I’m so fucking sorry,“ he said, walking towards you but you just crossed your arms in front of your chest which pushed your tits up and you didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered towards your cleavage before he came to stand in front of you, hands on your elbows. 

„We got new evidence in and I forgot the time and I’m a shitty fucking boyfriend,“ he said, his big brown eyes big as he looked at you, hands now on your upper arms. 

„You look beautiful baby,“ his fingers slipped over the soft fabric of your dress. 

„I know,“ you said, now pouting and his lips twitched into a small smile as he stepped forward. 

„Let me make it up to you,“ he said with pleading eyes, before he pulled you against his body, your hand coming to rest on his chest as you looked up at him. 

„And how do you plan on doing that Detective?“ You asked and he hummed, his head tilting to the side as if in deep thought while both of his hands slowly slid down your back before grabbing a handful of your ass.

„I can think of a few ways,“ he hummed before he kissed you. You sighed against his lips, your arms wrapping around him, one of your hands running through his soft hair as he deepened the kiss. He walked you back, caging you against his door and you heard the soft click of him locking his door and you smiled against his lips. 

His hands slowly slipped the soft fabric of your dress up, his fingers leaving goosebumps as they moved over your skin, all while his tongue played with yours. 

He groaned when he felt the lace of your stocking. 

„Fuck baby. Can I see you?“ He mumbled, one of his fingers hooking through the straps of the garter belt you were wearing and you hummed thoughtfully. 

„I don’t know Detective, you think you already earned that?“ You looked at him, challenging him. 

Instead of answering you he slowly sank down on his knees, while now both of his hands held up the fabric of your dress. He groaned a low fuck me when he saw what you were wearing, his face leaning in, nuzzling against your lace covered panties as he inhaled deeply. 

„She already wet for me?“ He asked, his breath warm against your skin. Not giving you a chance to answer his tongue slipped over your flimsy panties and you gasped as he hummed. 

One of his hands grabbed one of your legs, hooking it over one of his shoulders and you let your back fall against the door, one of your hand reaching down, fingers gliding through his hair. 

„I’m sorry,“ he whispered before he pushed your panties to the side. 

„I’m sorry I forgot about our date,“ he kissed you just above your clit. 

„Again,“ he murmured before his fingers parted your folds and he moaned when he saw just how wet you already were.  

„You’re so wet for me baby,“ he licked through your folds and you sighed, head falling against the door with a soft thump.

„I’m sorry I’m such a shitty boyfriend,“ he murmured as his tongue played with you, the way his facial hair scratched over your sensitive skin as he ate you out leaving you shuddering. 

One of his arms was wrapped around your thigh, holding you in place as his other hand held you open for him. 

„I’m close,“ you moaned, fingers gripping his hair and he groaned, his tongue fucking you as deeply as he was able to, humming as he tasted you. 

„Already?“ He teased and you pulled his hair, making him moan. 

He chuckled to himself before his tongue focused all its attention on your clit. Flicking it at first before he sucked it between his lips, knowing exactly what to do to make you cum. 

And within seconds you did, flooding his mouth with your slick as you moaned his name quietly. He continued to lick into you until you pushed him away and he slowly let your leg down before he sat back on his heels, looking very smug as he looked up at you. 

„Am I forgiven yet?“ He asked and you rolled your eyes, playfully slapping his hands away as you walked over to his desk. Your eyes softened when you saw the photo the two of you took on your last vacation on his desk as you leaned with both palms down over his desk, wiggling your ass. 

„I think I need some more grovelling,“ you smirked over your shoulder and Tim got back up on his feet. He pressed into you from behind and you could feel how hard he was. His hands were on your hip as he leaned down, finding your lips in a soft kiss. 

„Can’t do that kind of grovelling on my knees though,“ he grinned and you chuckled. 

„Just fuck me, Tim,“ you pushed against him and he huffed a laugh. You turned your head back forward as you heard his belt buckle, followed from a zipper. 

He pushed your dress up, before he reached for your panties, slowly slipping them down your legs until you could step out of them. You didn’t know he put them into the pocket of the shirt he was wearing, intending to keep them. 

You jumped in surprise when he licked through your folds again, humming in satisfaction. 

„Could taste you all day,“ he said, before he slapped your ass, making you jump again.

„You should do that some time,“ you teased and felt his hands squeeze your hips. 

„Oh I will,“ he said, feeling the tip of his cock slowly enter you. 

„Gonna spend all day with you in bed, fucking you in every way possible,“ he groaned, sinking into you fully. 

„Promises, promises,“ you teased looking over your shoulder just when his hand came down on your ass in a sharp slap. 

„Brat,“ he shook his head in amusement. 

„I thought you were grovelling?“ You asked and he bottomed out before snapping his hips back against your ass, his cock filling you completely, air rushing out of your lungs in a low moan as he began to fuck you. 

One of his hands was massaging one of your ass cheeks as he kept a steady pace. 

„Always so warm and wet for me,“ he hummed, hips snapping against yours. Your lips were parted as you panted, low moans escaping you as you tried to keep quiet. 

„Wanna cum in this little pussy,“ he moaned and you began to meet his thrusts. 

„You gonna let me?“ He hummed and you pushed yourself up, feeling his arm wrap around your middle as he pulled you against his chest, fucking up into you as he held you. 

„Only if you gonna clean me up once we’re home,“ you whispered and he groaned as his lips found yours in a sloppy kiss. His hand slipped down your body, under your dress, finding your clit, playing with it. 

„Cum for me,“ he mumbled against your lips, his cock filling you in the perfect angle and it wasn’t long before you came, squeezing his cock while he fucked your through your orgasm, his lips still on yours before he followed you shortly after, painting your walls with his cum. 

You stayed like that for a moment, him holding you against his chest as you kissed. 

„I am really really fucking sorry I forgot about dinner,“ he whispered against your lips and your eyes softened. 

„It’s okay. I know how important your work is for you,“ you murmured, before you kissed him again. 

He slowly pulled out of you, grabbing some tissues from his desk to clean you up before he tucked his cock back into his pants. You jumped on his desk and he smiled as he came to stand between your legs, one of his hands tilting your face up towards him. 

„You will always be more important baby. It’s why I planned his fucking dinner,“ he sighed, clearly still disappointed in himself. 

You wrapped both of your arms around his back and he stepped closer as you rested your head against his. 

„You can still take me out to dinner. The Taco Truck down our street is still open,“ you smiled and felt his shoulder relax. 

And that’s how you ended up completely overdressed at almost 11pm a the Taco Truck down your street. Soft music was paying on the radio as you ate. 

„You know there was a reason I wanted to take you out tonight,“ he said and you hummed, happily biting into your Taco. You were sitting on a bench, leaning against Tim’s chest as he watched you eat. 

„Yeah?“ You asked, feeling him nod.

He waited until you were finished eating before you felt him move behind you. Sitting yourself up you reached for a napkin to clean your fingers when you saw him set something down on the table next to you. 

A small turquoise box. 

You frowned for a moment before you looked at him with wide eyes. 

„I wanted this night to be perfect, and I can’t believe I let my job get in the way of that again,“ he shook his head before he got up only to get down on one knee in front of you, taking your hand while his other reached for the small box, flipping it open to reveal a beautiful diamond ring. 

„But maybe asking you to marry me in front of a Taco Truck instead of a fancy dinner should have been my plan along.“

[604to647]

Hold On

1.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: You wear Detective Tim Rockford's leather holster.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established relationship, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby), breast worship, wee bit of thigh riding.

A/N: Inspired by @mrsmando's Tiddy Talk™️ yesterday, this is my case submission for Tim being a boob guy🫡 Kindly let me know if you're convinced 😂😂 This is, of course, our The Rockford Portfolio couple, but can be read as standalone.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always / Series Masterlist / If you're interested in more Adventures of Tim Rockford's Holster, may I suggest @ghotifishreads' drabble?

It had actually been somewhat difficult to pull off your little surprise for Tim.  First, you had to wait for him to be off work; it was a rarer occurrence than it should be, with Tim often working late and sometimes going on weekend stakeouts, thereby taking that leather gun holster of his with him.

Then, when Tim was at home, the two of you were hardly ever apart – not wishing to do anything other than enjoy each other’s company, either quietly or voraciously.  Sure, you could have asked him to give you some time alone to set-up, but then he would have known that he had something coming.  And you wanted this to be a surprise, surprise.

The opportunity finally came in the form of an invite to Officer Chu’s bachelor party; Tim had hummed and hawed about going, but you encouraged it enthusiastically.  Not wanting to give away your hidden agenda, you simply reminded Tim of that time when Officer Chu sat in a hot patrol car with him for eight hours so they could get photographic proof of Grandma Ursula’s lab and he had agreed he should go for a few drinks.

When you receive Tim’s text that he’s heading home, you make your way to the bedroom to get ready; giddy at the imagined look of awe that you hope to see on Tim’s face soon.

Taking Tim’s gun holster off the bedpost on his side of the bed, you run the thick, firm straps through your fingers and visualize them framing your boyfriend’s equally thick chest.  As you warm the supple leather under your thumb, you think about how it stretches across Tim’s broad back, and the image blossoms a different type of warmth in your core.

Tim wearing this leather holster is like a siren call to you; just seeing it wrapped taut around his tight frame at the end of a long work day makes your mouth dry.  You never fail to compliment the way he looks in it or tell him how much it turns you on.  Once, when you had slipped your soft hands under the straps to provide some relief where they had started digging into his weary shoulders, cooing the usual sentiments about how hot his holster looked on him, Tim had whispered back that he bet it would look even better on you.

It was there for just a second, but you had filed the dark, hungry look that flashed in Tim’s eyes when he let this confession slip, away in the back of your mind - waiting for just the right moment to test out his theory.

Stripping down to nothing but the black lace panties chosen specifically to match the dark hue of Tim’s gun holster, you slip your arms through the shoulder straps and adjust it so that the small back harness sits comfortably between your shoulder blades.  Pulling the arm straps on both sides over your naked breasts so that they touch in the valley of your chest, you give the various clips and loops a few adjustments, including moving the empty firearm sleeve so that it sits snug under your left breast, before completing the look by using a silk scarf to securely fasten the two sides of the holster together in front. 

Tying the fabric so that it looks like a big bow, you pull the knot so it sits securely on the leather that snugly hugs your plush curves.  Giggling to yourself as you climb onto the bed, you sit back on your heels and wait.

It’s not long before you hear the familiar dropping of keys in the key bowl, accompanied by the soft call of hello from your unsuspecting man.

“In the bedroom, Detective!”

“Tonight was fun, Shutterbug.  Thanks for making me go.  Chu’s fiancé was wondering if y-”  Jaw dropped and words stuck in his throat, Tim marvels at the sight before him: you and your soft curves bare and trussed up for him in his department regulated gun holster, the very one he wears to work everyday and trusts to keep his firearm close and handy, offered up on the bed like a naughty present.  As he stalks towards you, his eyes rake over your tits sitting on display for him, bordered by the bold leather in a way that’s reminiscent of art hung in a museum.  Tim lays down on his stomach and army crawls his way to you at the top of the bed; when you rise on your knees to meet him, he sits and holds you firmly by the waist so he can behold all of you before him.

“Surprise,” you whisper.

Tim looks at you with disbelieving reverence and asks a question he knows will never be answered to his satisfaction, “What did I do to ever deserve you, baby?”

You want to tell Tim that he deserves the world.  That he dedicates himself so selflessly to the protection of this city that he’s earned the right to have all of his dreams fulfilled, and that you’d happily give him anything and everything so long as he never stops looking at you the way he’s doing so right now.  But you don’t tell him anything because your mind goes completely blank when Tim dives forward and takes one of your breasts in his mouth.

He kisses and nips, taking as much of your soft skin into his mouth as he can and sucks so hard he knows he’s leaving marks; Tim comes up only for air and to lave his tongue soothingly over the already reddening spot before opening wide to devour and decorate you again.  The other side of your chest is hardly safe from Tim’s worship.  His meaty hand kneads and gropes your supple breast, pulling and pushing the pillowy flesh every which way that the constricting leather you wear allows.  You welcome every bruising caress and cry out for more, more, more with your wanton moans.  Eyes closed and mouth full, Tim’s own feral noises are muffled and smothered by your chest; you feel rather than hear the evidence of his pleasure vibrate throughout your entire body.

Even without the benefit of sight, Tim ravishes and wrecks you, expertly guided by his intimate familiarity of your most delicious parts.

His hand finds your hard nipple and he teases it with his thumb before pinching and rolling the aching peak between his fingers.

His tongue twirls and flicks your nipple until it’s swollen and shiny, only to nibble it between his ever so gentle teeth.      

Time loses all meaning as Tim repeats and alternates these mind-numbing patterns on both of your heaving breasts over and over until you’re positively howling above him.

Pulling you closer so that he can bury his face even deeper in the most gorgeous pair of tits he’s ever laid eyes on, Tim feels you start to grind yourself down onto his leg; smiling against your skin when your arousal leaks through your panties and onto his pants.  He places his hands on your waist to help guide you to the pleasure you seek and pulls back to watch your tits bounce in his face.  You cry and moan, whining his name as you chase that perfect friction on his thigh, all while Tim is hypnotized by the show your luscious curves and his leather holster put on for him. 

You come with a wail of his name and a hard yank to his soft brown curls, shuddering as you press Tim’s face to your chest so he can lick and mouth you through it. 

“So?” you coo breathily, chest still rising and falling as you come down from your high.

Tim peeks out from between your tits and cocks an eyebrow at your mischievous grin.

“Do I look better in your holster than you, Detective?”

Lust blown eyes twinkling with his own mischief, Tim lifts his head with a smirk, “Gotta see it and you in a couple more positions first, Shutterbug.”  Giggling, you watch as he takes your hands and places them on the holster straps where they lay right below your collar bone; the last thing you hear before Tim tugs your legs out from under you and you’re knocked onto your back is a low baritone command practically growled: “Hold on.”

[wildemaven]

confessions | tim rockford

pairing: tim rockford x f!reader word count: 1349 warnings: 18+ blog; beer consumption, Tim is older than reader but no age given (not more than 10+ years), fluff, pining, secret crushes, kissing, fluff, one mention of calling Tim ‘old’ in a playful manner, (none of these pictures dictate the appearance of reader, this is all purely for vibes and up for your own interpretation) notes: this is my first Tim fic and I’m so excited to be apart of the Summer Lovin’ challenge out on by @pedgito @chaotic-mystery @amanitacowboy Big shout out to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for giving it a once over for me!! I appreciate you!!

“Thanks again for coming.” You lean over and say before hiding behind the sip from your plastic cup of ice cold beer. 

“Of course. It’s a bummer your date couldn’t make it.” Tim says now leaning slightly over in your direction so you can hear him. 

The music isn’t loud. More of a steady hum as a slower ballad is played on stage. Low enough that you can carry on an easy conversation without shouting over blasting speakers. 

“Yeah. Definitely a bummer he couldn’t make it. I don’t think I’d be having as much fun as I am if I was alone— so thank you.” You almost feel bad about lying. Your date that canceled on you last minute for this very concert you’re attending right now with your partner instead. 

Expect Tim doesn’t know that there never was a date prior to him accepting your last minute invitation to be your plus one. His detective skills certainly are not keen on the slight crush you've had for the man for some time now. 

“You don’t have to keep thanking me. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to be here. It’s kind of a bonus that they’re one of my favorite bands. Missed out on getting tickets. So I should be thanking you.” Tim bumps your arm playfully with his elbow before directing his attention back to the stage where the lead singer is ripping on his shiny black electric guitar. 

“Oh! I didn’t realize that when I asked you. I’m so glad it worked out like this.” Another lie. 

You knew it was one of Tim’s favorite bands. Overheard him one morning in the break room talking about this upcoming tour and how it’s been a dream of his to see them live. The only problem was this exact venue had sold out before he had gotten a chance to even attempt to get tickets. 

It pays to know people. Especially the kind of people who owe you favors. You had immediately called in the favor and you were able to secure two tickets that were relatively close to the stage without any issues. 

Tim Rockford has been your partner at the police department for the last three years. The crush you’ve been quietly harboring for him has been alive for nearly the same amount of time. 

You tried to not feel guilty while flat out lying to him about the whole thing. Especially right now with how much he is enjoying himself. His head bobbing in time with the beat. The words so effortlessly fall  from his mouth as he sings along to each song. 

As the song plays on, you don’t see the way Tim is admiring you thoroughly enjoying the music. Your arms high in the air, falling into a rhythmic wave that mirrors the other concert goers. What surprises him most, and finds almost angelic, is the way you sing word for word without missing a beat, making him even more grateful you asked him to come now, so he could witness such a sight. 

“I’m surprised you know all the words.” He says with a grin that makes your stomach swoop instantly. 

“Of course I do. It’s a good song.” You’d only discovered it when you began your rigorous studying of the band’s entire discography after securing the tickets. But Tim doesn’t need to know that— yet. “They’re a great band for being around for so long.” 

He shoots you a pained look.

“A great band for being around for so long? Sweetheart, I was listening to them in high school. You calling me old?” He turns fully to you in the small row where your seats have been abandoned for the better part of the show. His signature Detective Rockford stance, hip cocked out and hand secure at his waist band, is way less intimidating when he’s dressed in his off duty casual clothes and unarmed. 

“Well, not as old as my dad…” Technically, Tim isn’t not much older than you, but the years between you were enough for there to be a difference in tastes of music. You shrug your shoulders at him, not sure if he’s picking up the flirty tone you’ve adopted in the last few minutes. “But if the shoe fits, I guess.” 

“I’m hurt— wounded.” Tim grabs at the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching under his grip. 

“What was that?” You cup your hand over your ear and lean back into him. “I can’t hear you over your knees popping every time you stand up.” 

His smile drops and it has you feeling like you might have crossed a line that has blown any chance of ever being something more serious with Tim. 

“Tim— I was totally kidding. I’m so sor—“ Tim cuts you off before you can properly apologize to him. 

Tim’s lips are softer than you had imagined them being, slotted perfectly over yours. The music playing is no longer the main event for you, fading into the background as Tim conveys to you his own undisclosed feelings for you through the kiss. It’s a moment that feels straight out of one of your favorite rom-com movies. 

“I hope I haven’t been reading this whole thing wrong and I didn’t just make an ass out of myself by shutting up that pretty mouth of yours.” Tim’s musky cologne mixes with the beer he’d been savoring as his words fan across your face at such a close proximity. 

“No. You definitely didn’t— to both things.” A cool breeze sweeps through, alleviating the warmth that’s settled on your skin. “I have a confession to make.” 

“What’s that?” His thumb grazes over the apple of your cheek. It’s gentle effort helps ease all of your shot nerves. 

“There was no date. I got the tickets and planned to ask you. I didn’t want to sound desperate or weird, so I made it seem like I was going with someone else and that they canceled at the last minute.” 

“Oh— well I guess I should confess something to you then.” There’s a small hint of relief that you detect in his voice at your confession, you wouldn’t be one of the best detectives in your department to let that tell slide by unseen. “I was jealous of your non-existent date.” 

“Really?!” 

A light fluttering sensation swirls through you. Sincerity etched in the flecks of the warm brown eyes staring back at you. 

“Yeah. Heard you talking about it with everyone at work. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a small part of me that had wished it was me going with you.” 

“You’re only saying that because it’s your favorite band playing right now.” 

You amusingly roll your eyes and push at his solid unmoving arm, but he catches your wrist before you can pull away. 

“Nah, I would have been jealous even if it was that Bieber kid.” Tim maneuvers his hand around yours, interlocking your fingers together. 

“Good to know, Rockford. I'll remember that for next time.” 

The chords of a new song fill the air. A vivacious energy spreads through the crowd like a wildfire. It’s not enough to break the small bubble Tim and you are currently existing in. 

“Next time? So what does that mean for us then, Sweetheart?” His brows knit together. He’s hopeful at the prospect of a next time, but doesn’t want to be too expectant and scare you away before he even has a chance to have you. 

“I don’t know. Let’s listen to the rest of this concert. Then afterwards you can take me to that old diner you love over on Pine Street. Order some food and we can talk until they threaten to kick us out.”

“If I’m not mistaken, that kind of sounds like the perfect first date.” He delivers another weak-in-the-knee inducing smile and you can’t help but mirror it with a little wink. 

“Way to use those detective skills.” 

It’s your turn to kiss him. It doesn’t linger as long as you’d like, but the night is still young. 

[guiltyasdave]

i usually do my weekly fic recs on sunday, but i’ll be pretty busy tomorrow, so i’m just doing them now :) and i looooved what i read this week, so please check these out!

especially right now, when being a fanfic writer isn't the most enjoyable experience tbh, please try spreading kindness and show your writers some love <3

a list of all my recs ever can be found here!

dividers by @/enchanthings ✨

i'm organizing the fics by character and adding emojis to indicate the contents a little. still, please look at the tags/ warnings and decide for yourself if something might not be for you.

💘= fluff • ❤️‍🔥= smut • 🤍= angst • 🖤= dark

📚= oneshot • 📖= series

dave york

volatile by @javier-pena ❤️‍🔥🤍🖤📖

reckless by @whataperfectwasteoftime 💘❤️‍🔥📖

pitch black by @whataperfectwasteoftime 💖❤️‍🔥🤍🖤📚

tainted heart by @sizzlingcloudmentality ❤️‍🔥🖤📖

sight universe by @goodwithcheese 💘❤️‍🔥🤍🖤📚

whisked away by @joelalorian 💘📖

dave york & tim rockford

pack your heart, you might need it by @sin-djarin 💖❤️‍🔥🤍📚

dieter bravo

dieter’s doggy style by @schnarfer 💘📖

dieter bravo & joel miller

stretch by @sp00kymulderr ❤️‍🔥📖

din djarin

hatch by @secretelephanttattoo 💘🤍📖

fifteen minutes by @whocaresstillthelouvre 💘❤️‍🔥📖

frankie morales

europa by @the-mandawhor1an 💘❤️‍🔥🤍🖤📖

javier peña

midnight rainstorms by @thundermartini 💘🤍📖

i’ll carry you by @almostfoxglove 💘❤️‍🔥🤍🖤📚

joel miller

the checklist by @thetriumphantpanda 💖❤️‍🔥📚

smother by @beardedjoel 💖❤️‍🔥🤍🖤📚

ain’t that a bite by @almostfoxglove 💘📖

unbound by @sp00kymulderr ❤️‍🔥🤍📖

pretty baby by @mrsmando ❤️‍🔥🤍📖

on every street by @thundermartini 🤍📖

rotten by @alltheirdamn ❤️‍🔥🖤📖

lost cause by @joelalorian 💘❤️‍🔥🤍📖

pillow by @iamasaddie 💘📖

life and loss by @wildemaven 💘🤍📖

a fake soccer date by @toomanystoriessolittletime 💘❤️‍🔥📖

until then by @studioghibelli 🤍📖

lucien flores

trying something new by @missredherring 💘❤️‍🔥📖

marcus acacius

circumstance by @javier-pena ❤️‍🔥🖤📖

my own writing

wildest dreams — dave york x f!reader (now a finished series!!! 🥹) 💘❤️‍🔥🤍📚

dancing phantoms on the terrace — oberyn martell x f!reader 🤍📖

[letsgobarbs]

Part III: The Hero Of My Books

Pairing: Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Summary: Convinced your husband doesn’t want you, you turned to Jack for some help. The situation unravels and all secrets come to light.

Rating: Explicit

Content Warning: YOU 🫵 consider cheating on Tim. But you don't at the end. Maybe it's just a little bit of cheating if you squint. Jack is nothing but a plot device here. creepy neighbour alert. Reader has anxiety. voyeurism. mentions of divorce. classism from an unimportant side character. toxic family situations for all. both Reader and Tim are a bit fruity if you squint. arranged marriage. p in v sex. oral f!receiving. loss of virginity. there is an age gap, but even i don't know what it is, go with what you will.

Author’s Note: I was so deep in the Merge Mansion lore for this one. Found out Maddie’s grandpa was a spy of something which made me think of Jack. So, this entire thing turned out way different than what I thought it was going to be. I'm fairly new to both writing and Tumblr so reblogs and comments are always appreciated. This fic exists in my ao3 as well, but this version is just very very slightly edited. Not even slightly, it’s just re-read and adjusted.

divider by @saradika-graphics

Part I, Part II

It had felt good to say it. No matter how this concludes, it felt liberating to confess. You tried your best to tamp down the little seedling of hope that still sprouted into expectation, “You don't need to say anything, I'm not expecting anything from you.”

You had been a coward, hiding your fears behind the books, and the writing slump, and the lack of sex, and the affair. You had been terrified of not being loved back because you had thought it was a weakness. Your weakness. It had only taken for your husband to think you were cheating for you to realise that, even unrequited, loving him was never a weakness. It was something you were good at. It was your craft, your skill, your art form. You would have never tainted it by cheating. After all, you had celebrated your art form one cheesy, smutty book at a time. The only reason you hadn't been writing well lately was because the distance with Tim had made you too antsy.

And it didn't matter if Tim loved you back. Sort of like it didn't matter whether you were playing singles or doubles if you only cared about playing some tennis. Love was your Olympic sport and you were a gold medalist.

“I love you too.”

Well, that changed everything.

“I can't believe you thought I didn't love you.” Tim came to stand in the doorway of your kitchen, even under the overly warm, ugly kitchen overhead light, you looked divine.

“I was trying to…”—you took a shaky breath—“make a move or something. And, it felt like you were pulling away. You did pull away. And I thought it was your way of letting me know you didn't see me like that.” Tim had moved close enough for you to see his dark eyes behind their black frames. It frazzled you to be so close to him again.

Tim felt his fingers twitch with intent and a faint tingling feel. God, tingles. He’d thought the sparks were only supposed to happen once you actually touched the other person, but here you were, setting him ablaze with that glazed, wondrous look in your eyes. You wanted him. Loved him. His hand came up to gently caress your face, his knuckles softly brushing over your cheekbones to your chin. Sparks. Tim couldn't grasp or hold you without this damn current making its way up his arm and doing his poor heart in.

“I'm sorry”—he unfurled his fingers over your cheek, tips grazing the soft skin under your ears, to gently hold your face—“for being a damn coward. Thought you wouldn't want anything with an old man like me”

“I’ve never wanted anything else. Or anything more.”

Tim angled his lips over yours barely grazing each other, his eyes met yours in a silent challenge. Then kiss me. And you did. You pulled him to you with a hand between his shoulder blades, gently sucking his lower lip to slot between yours. You could do this forever. Tim felt his knees buckle when you traced the tip of your tongue over his upper lip skimming over the bristles of his moustache. He leaned forward to brace himself against the counter behind you, trapping you in between, pressing you closer into his body while his tongue scraped against the smooth underside of your tongue. You broke the kiss with a gasp at the sudden sensation.

A pang of anxiety coursed through you, but it had no place under Tim’s adoring eyes. You incredulously soaked in the moment, tracing your fingers up his spine to entangle the hair curling at his nape. Your other hand rested over his rapidly thudding heart, feeling your own start to dance to his rhythm. The world slowly floated around you, correcting course and tilting on its axis until all your pieces snugly settled with him. Tim’s arm came around your waist as he nudged your cupped face back to his lips in another slow and sensual dance.

Tim rid you of your clothes, forming a trail as he guided you towards the bedroom with affectionate pecks and playful nibbles. Suddenly, he was everywhere, desperate hands palming and stroking your soft skin and mapping the features of your body. Tim charted his hand up the back of your thigh, thumb stretching out to graze the curve of your underbutt as he pressed feverish kisses down your neck. His cotton shirt felt delicious against your exposed nipples. He untucked his shirt as he took teasing nips at your clavicle breathing in the scent of your skin and body wash.

Both of your hands halted his movements, “Stop. I want to watch.”

You sat at the foot of the bed, the movement drawing your attention to the slick that had gathered between your legs. You would've worried about staining the sheets had Tim not taken off his shirt. You watched as he folded it in half before draping it over the dresser. You wanted to tease him about being shy now when he had just flung his fogged glasses across the living room earlier. But it was difficult to come up with words when you were admiring his side profile and the light scattering off his beautiful curls. You took in his furrowed brows as he unclasped his watch, his gracefully sculpted nose, his ruggedly patchy beard, and the freckles that dotted his shoulders and arms. It was unfair how lovely he looked.

“Look at me.”

Tim turned to face you with a quizzically raised brow, noting the command in your voice and the delightful shiver it sent down his back— filing away the moment to explore another day. Tim discarded his undershirt, and you appreciated the muscle in his throat that jutted out to form that hollow notch at its base, the smattering of salt and pepper chest hair that led to the soft swell of his stomach with the wispy trail that disappeared into his trousers.

He had never spent much time thinking about his body, but now he was tempted to peek in the mirror to see what had you so captivated. Tim leaned on a leg, an arm resting on his hip with his other leg stretched out before him to adjust himself, deliberately pausing to slowly palm his dick and stroke it through his pants. He slowly unbuttoned his pants but pulled his boxers down along with his pants, impatiently his mind went to more pleasurable and entertaining things he could be doing as he watched you lean back on the bed.

While Tim was downright pretty, the size and girth of it were intimidating. Realistically, you knew you could take it, but you were always a little scared of pain.

“Are we sure that’s gonna fit?”

Tim couldn't help but break into a little grin as he ran the back of his hand up your inner thigh finding it smeared with arousal.

“That's adorable, we’ll make it fit, baby.”

He joined you on the bed with more kisses as you both awkwardly shuffled upwards. Once you were propped up against the headboard, Tim’s mouth latched onto a nipple while a hand gently cupped the other; his wedding band felt cold against your heated skin making you arch into his mouth.

“Relax… touch your pussy for me. Make yourself feel good.” He whispered into your cleavage.

You rubbed tight circles around your clit mirroring Tim’s tongue as it swirled around your areolas, pausing to flick or suck your hardened nipple— he then gently bit down as he pinched and tugged the other unexpectedly hurtling you off the edge with a gasp.

Tim urgently kissed into your opened mouth, “Please, plea—” his voice broke into a lower octave—“please let me taste you.” He had spread your legs and plunged his head between your thighs before you had finished nodding.

Tim looked ravenous as he took in the sight of your folds, slick and wet. He lapped at the shiny inside of your thigh, savouring his first taste of you with an inadvertent moan. He took his time to graze his teeth against your skin, sucking in little marks into the crease of your pelvis, building his anticipation until you urged him with a roll of your hips.

Tim swept his tongue in a single long lick upwards, parting the lips covering your oozing slit and exposing the clit under your hood. You clutched at his hair and were rewarded with Tim moaning into the tip of your clit. He took his time exploring, guided by the sweet noises you made for him until you were nothing more than a pulsating, throbbing ball of aching need and nerves. You knew Tim was whispering praise into your cunt, but you were so far gone into the haze of pleasure that they went unheard. You didn't even realise when he had pressed two of his fingers down into your vagina while nuzzling your clit. He turned his hand palm-up causing his fingers to graze a spot inside you that hardened your body into a knot before you unravelled under his tongue.

You came to with colours still dancing underneath your eyelids, and your body still shivering in the aftermath of the violent tremble in your limbs. Tim was still pressing sweet kisses above your clit and around your most sensitive nerves soothingly rubbing his palms over your hip only for each stroke to form warm currents and more shivers under your skin.

“You think you can let me up now?” Your legs had wrapped around him to keep him there while you rode out the tremors of your orgasm on his face. It was tempting to just keep him there with your legs straining to frame the broad expanse of his shoulders while he sported his cheeky grin and glazed eyes. But when you reached out to thumb at his dimple you found his facial hair wet and the sudden urge to taste yourself on him gained Tim his freedom. He came up with a mischievous attempt to bite your hand that had been caressing his face.

On Tim’s lips, you were more scent than taste, musky and sweet mixed with the cool mint of his gum. You reared back.

“Did you have gum in your mouth while you went down on me? Because that would be psychotic.”

Tim huffed a warm laugh into your neck, “I don't know, do you wanna spend some more time looking for it in my mouth? You can even pat me down while you're at it.”

“Oh, detective, thank you for complying, we’re just following a process.” There was a teasing lilt to your voice. You sighed into his kiss while Tim rested the weight of him on you. You reached for his cock that lay between you, pressing heavy and warm on your stomach demanding attention.

“Not that procedure, not yet, wait. Just give me a minute. I've made a mess of myself.” Tim had given into the impulse of humping the sheets like he was a teenager again and was a hair-trigger from bursting. The gentle and chaste kisses did very little to stave off the urgent wave building at his spine when your hands were roaming over his back pausing to experimentally squeeze his ass. Naughty minx. But it allowed him enough reprieve to spread your thighs wider, draping them over his own before positioning his cock over your slit. His cockhead gave gentle taps to your clit that sent quivers down your spine. Just as you thought he would be pushing into you, Tim only lazily swayed back and forth gently rubbing his cock over the most throbbing part of you while you desperately clenched onto emptiness.

“The suspense is killing me, please just put it in me.” Your voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

“You’re tensing up on me, honey.” Tim flipped, carrying you over him in his arms.

“Take it the way you like it.”

You notched the tip of him against your slit, sliding down onto him. The heady rush of him stretching you out had your head rolling back, arching your tits back into his waiting palms. You teared up in frustration at a stabbing ache when you could not take more despite pushing yourself down, desperately wanting to be further filled. There was an itch that would be left so unsatisfied if he did not reach deeper into you, you felt so empty and blocked at the same time.

Tim found the little nub between your legs again insistently working it while spreading his fingers to cup the core of you that sheathed him halfway coaxing it to take him in. He guided you into a soft swivel with a warm, rough hand on your hips.

“Good girl.” Your pussy convulsed around him before easing down on him in a single swift motion that had the both of you gasping at the electric sensation.

“You take me so well, pretty girl.” Tim was content to let you find your rhythm. A warmth bloomed in his chest at the sight of you enjoying his cock, milking him for your pleasure as you looked down at him with darkened misty eyes.

“Should've done this way sooner. This pretty little cunt is made for me, isn't it?”

The yes’s poured out of you like a prayer, “Tim, it feels so good, please, please, please—” You were so so close, it just seemed as if the release was running away from you, you could cry. It was even more frustrating that Tim wouldn't do anything to help.

“Oh sweetheart, having some trouble are we?” You were vexed, he was enjoying your predicament. A smirk on his lips as you desperately tried to word your pleas to him. Irritated, you finally reached your hand between your legs where you were still frantically undulating over him.

“Tsk, I didn't say you could touch yourself. You're going to cum for me, do you understand?” Tim grasped your hand and encaged it with his own holding it over his abdomen even as you still struggled to reach your clit. His hips bucked up into you at the retaliatory scratch you gave him.

“Yes, please, Tim, just please, touch me, please make me cum.”

“I need you to say my name when you come, okay, Darling? Say my name, baby.” He seemed to have lost all his previous gentility with the quick pinch and tug he gave to your already hot and sensitive clit. You reeled off him as you came but Tim pulled you back down his cock anchoring you into him. You had been chanting his name before you went off the edge, but the orgasm had rushed up on you so fast that you were sure you had stopped breathing for a while, your cries still felt trapped in your throat. Or maybe it was Tim’s cock you felt all the way up into the back of your throat.

He was sitting up with you, still buried hot and hard inside your fluttering cunt. Tim rubbed little circles and patterns into your skin, sending jolts of pleasure to course through you.

“You didn't cum… I'm sorry, just let me—”

“Shh, Shh don't be sorry baby. I'm the one who should be sorry. You’re going to let me cum inside aren't you.” You knew he was asking, but his tone left no doubt that he would spill inside you. He had nothing to be sorry for, you wanted so desperately to feel his hot cum coating your walls. You wondered if he felt the involuntary spasm your pussy gave in a desperate attempt to keep him inside.

“Oh you liked that, didn't you? You're gonna be a sweet girl for me, won't you, babe? Let me use that tight little pussy to get off?”—Tim tightened his grip on your hips—“Be a doll and hold onto my shoulders okay?”

You weren't answering any of his rhetorical questions when he was bouncing you on his cock with quick sharp tugs.

“God, wanted to be a good, kind husband who didn't use his wife too hard on her first time. But this cunt is a trap isn't it, baby? I could live inside you for ages”

You did need to hold onto his shoulders after all. If the thought of Tim using you as nothing more than a cocksleeve to jerk off his cock wasn't hot enough, your previous orgasm hadn't entirely rolled out before another one hit. This time, you did scream his name. You also left scratches over his shoulder, biting into his neck to silence yourself.

The bite of pain finally sent Tim over the edge, as he grasped you further into him. For a moment, neither of you knew where he ended and you began. He could do nothing more than fall back into the pillows taking you down with him. He couldn't even muster up the strength to pull out, not that he wanted to. Tim stopped your devious fingers from teasing his nipples, opting to tip your chin up for kisses instead— craving an affection that didn't further stimulate the jolts of pleasure he was still feeling at the base of his spine.

You could feel Tim softening inside of you, sending a pang of distress to pierce through the fog of bliss at the thought of losing that physical connection to him. Your frizzled brain kick-started to interrupt the peacefully comfortable post-orgasmic haven with your husband.

“Could you hold me tighter?” Tim must've picked up the vulnerability in your voice because both his arms came around you to hold you in a tighter embrace. Your mind struggled to come up with words to fill the silence. It would be completely fucked to ask Tim if this meant they were together now. He did say he loves you but you didn't want to pressure him, maybe it was just sex. You were already married so what if he didn't mean it? But Tim was never one to say things he didn't mean.

You felt Tim trailing soft kisses on your forehead as he whispered, “You’re thinking too loud.”

“I still can’t believe you thought I didn't love you.”

“Well, you didn't seem attracted to me…”

Tim heaved a disbelieving sigh, rolling his eyes at you as he gave a sharp spank, “Oh, I'm attracted to you, alright.” He rubbed your ass to soothe the sting.

“Did you think I was just platonically cuddling with you on our couch watching shitty reality tv—”

“Hey, you enjoy shitty reality tv.”

“—Or that I’m just being friendly when I try to cook your Chinese order at home, you know I live off of takeout!”

Okay, maybe you have been a little stupid. Tim has scoured the internet and attempted so many recipes for your favourite Chinese dishes because the local Chinese restaurant always made your stomach upset. The next closest restaurant was a long drive away from Hopewell Bay. He had even driven you there when you needed your Chinese takeout fix.

“I'm still working on that Szechuan sauce by the way, I promise I almost have it, it’s good but it's not takeout quality yet.” Both of you knew it wasn't remotely going to be as satisfying as a takeout.

There was a niggling itch at the back of your mind, a reminder that you were forgetting something very important. You tried to shrug it off, if it was important it would come back to you, as you settled into smooching Tim again.

“Oh my God, Jack!”

“So do not want to hear another man’s name while you're kissing me.”

“I have something to confess…” Suddenly, you were terrified that Tim would change his mind about you. “I have been watching Jack have sex, I know it's totally weird and I thought I had a good reason— which it was not. But like I'm sorry, I know that's cheating because we're married. And oh my god I cheated on you. Like technically we weren't together together before tonight but I would've been upset if you did something like this for a job—”

“I know.”

“—Like I couldn't blame you obviously because we didn't even know that we liked each other but still.”—Your rambling came to an abrupt stop—“What do you mean you know?”

Tim pulled you down to lay next to him again, as he propped himself on an elbow to look down at you. His fingers gently tucked the strays of your hair behind your ear, thumb reaching out to wipe away the anxious tears you unwittingly shed.

“I felt bad for cancelling on you all the time…” His fingers fiddled with the lobes of your ears, coming down to caress your jaw, “Remember that one time you wanted to go to a shooting range? I said I'd go, but then I talked myself out of it at the last minute and cancelled on you—”

“Yeah, you said you had too much paperwork.”

“—Well, I felt horrible because you would've been alone there and I never wanted you to feel alone so I showed up anyway. And I saw Jack walking up to you and I was glad you were with a friend.”

“So you left?” He'd come all the way there and had turned around and walked away anyway?

“Yes, I know… But then that guy was everywhere with you. Thought you’d made a choice.” Tim shrugged off his comment but it didn't ease the ache that remained when he thought you had chosen Jack.

“So, I may or may not have followed him whenever you made plans to meet him.”

You tried, and failed, to suppress the giddy smile that spread across your face.

“You just, what? Stood there in the shadows somewhere, watching me watch Jack have sex?” Both of you burst into giggles at the scenario.

“My favourite was when he was with Jackie”—Tim couldn't help but laugh through his words—“and I saw you pull out this tiny pocket notepad like you were a critic taking notes. I don't even know how he performed under all that pressure.”

“Well, I probably didn't want to forget what I'd just come up with. Did you know he's helped me write out a mini-series of cowboy romances? Surprisingly good at coming up with angst.”

“That notepad was mine by the way, I’m gonna need it back can't investigate a crime scene without it.”

“Oh, yes, of course, did you want me to leave in the sexy notes I took or…?”

“Leave those in please, you never know. It's how we found Jack had some of the answers to the case. He’s all over the place, he slept with Jackie who had some scoop about the Boulton case, Isabel who worked on the Boulton mansion as an architect, Victoria who wants to buy the estate, and—”

You didn't know why Tim was obsessed with Maddie’s grandma and her case.

“Jack said he knew Maddie’s grandpa Charlie from when they were both working for that alcohol company—”

“Statesman.”

“—yup, something about Charlie being his mentor and friend.”

You burrowed into Tim’s chest feeling the vibration when he hmm’ed at your words, and pressed your lips to his warm skin. You hadn't imagined the evening would play out like this but you sighed in contentment as Tim ran his hands along your back, appreciating the soft planes and hills of your body before his hand came up to cup the back of your head and aligned your lips with his.

“I need to get into these books of yours, figure out how to star in one of them.” You chased his lips with a whine as Tim left you needing more.

“Please don't, it's embarrassing. If it helps, I do write about you.”

“Yeah?” Tim slotted a leg between the both of yours leaving you dazed at the feeling of his thigh pressing against your pussy. You gave an experimental grind of your hips, moaning at the exquisite feel.

“You’ll find”— You broke into a gasp when your clit found the patch of coarse hair on his thigh, adjusting yourself to rub the rest of your pussy across it—“You’ll find all my heroes take after you, Tim.”

He groaned, unsure of whether it was due to your words or because of the mess you were making on his leg. Perhaps both. He felt himself hardening again.

“Detective, will you please let me suck your cock?”

“Depends, be a good girl and get yourself off on my thigh baby, then I’ll teach you how to suck my cock the way I like it.”

Tim was tender yet strong, he could share laughs with you but also leave you breathless with his intensity. Sometimes, all he needed was a light touch to make you fall apart for him. And at times he would hold you together so tight in his arms, as if he had anchored your soul to his. It was no wonder he was the hero of all your books.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

A smooch with Detective Timothy Rockford?! YES, PLEASE!

Jealousy isn't usually my cup of tea, but I absolutely LOVE your take on this prompt with Tim! Even though it's further down the line than the current timeline of Black Days, it's still early in their relationship and that makes these feelings of jealousy fit so well.

It's one thing to know that Tim's schedule is chaotic and that you won't be getting a ton of time to do regular relationship things like date nights that aren't last minute or just crashing on the couch watching a movie for a night. It's a whole different ballgame when you're living it. When you go 10 days without seeing each other, and then when you do he gets called away on a case or by the time he's finally free, your sleepless nights have caught up and you sleep through his only off-hours. When you do get a night where you're awake and he's free but you have to spend it SOCIALIZING (ugh) and therefore you have to share his attention with a whole house full of people you don't even know?!

Yeah. Even the least jealous person is going to feel that flare of "when do I get to have him all to myself?" when that's the case. And that's only going to get worse when he comes up all smooth and suave with his husky voice to tell you that you can leave soon AND THEN IMMEDIATELY GETS PULLED AWAY. Tim. You're killin' me here.

But wait a moment. What's this? Timothy is also suffering from being bit by the jealousy bug? As soon as Aaron sees his opening to flirt he jumps right in and Tim's jealousy senses are tingling. The way he just shows right up at the right time. The way he smooches the daylights out of Reader. The way he makes sure Aaron knows that the opening is SHUT. Like I said - jealousy and possessiveness are not usually my thing. But this... especially the way that he admits that he doesn't typically get all riled up like this... damn. That's SOMETHING ELSE. And it works. It fits his character as you've shown him to be in Black Days.

Oh! And I loved the line about how even meeting Chelsea didn't make Reader feel the way she was feeling at this party. Because she knows the deal with Chelsea.

That ending was perfect for this situation, too. Just solidifies how much these two want to be together and want to spend as much time with each other as possible. It flushes away the jealousy entirely and I am so happy for them for giving themselves that time.

Thank you for writing this. I thoroughly love Black Days, and getting little peeks at what's to come for those characters is really fun. Getting to smooch Detective Rockford is a damn dream.

2023 Summer Kiss Prompt #5: Tim Rockford - Jealous Kiss

Prompt #5 is for Detective Tim Rockford and asked for a jealous kiss. Now, in Black Days so far, there's really been no reason for either of them to be overly jealous ... but this takes place a few months down the road, and things are evolving.

I HC that Tim, once he's settled on going all in with someone, feels very strongly about them... and that these feelings manifest in interesting ways that he might not always expect.

Thank you for the request, @gracie7209 ... I hope you like it!

Word Count: 1,892

You hadn’t had a lot that night, but the two beers and a mixed drink - poured by Tim himself, who admittedly had a heavy hand - coupled by the fact that most of the food was already gone by the time you’d arrived ensured that you weren’t quite sober. 

He was driving, so there was no issue there, but where there was an issue was the way that he kept getting pulled away from you to talk to other people, which left you with nothing to do but focus on the drink in your hand. 

You knew almost no one else at the party, so while he was busy in conversation with whoever had started speaking to him at the moment, you were on your own. 

But as the night went on, you began to understand just how many connections he had - how many people seemed excited to see him and speak to him, how easily he got sucked into in depth conversations. The man’s hands moved animatedly as he told stories, one finger rising to push his glasses back up his nose and into place. He finally took them off a few hours after you arrived, folding the arms and tucking one of them into the collar of his shirt, the weight dragging it down just enough to tease you. 

And everyone else. You’d seen the way some of the women at the party were looking at him - batting their eyelashes, giggling, finding excuses to stand close and lean in while they talked. Tim was polite as usual and nothing more, but you still found yourself frowning every now and then at the sight, forcing yourself not to intervene because you didn’t want to be that woman. 

To his credit, he found you between conversations, the man apologizing profusely and stealing you away for a few minutes at a time. He planted kisses at the corner of your mouth or to the side of your head, his fingers linking with yours as he suggested going to see if the pizza had been delivered, or for the two of you to step outside and get some air. 

But those breaks only lasted so long before someone else demanded his attention. Rather than stand idly by his side and stare into space when you had no reason to join in on the conversation, you wandered around the house - going in and out of rooms and making polite small talk with people as they introduced themselves, or looking at artwork hanging on the walls and pretending to be engrossed.

And when you finally circled back around to Tim, he was happy to see you, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “We can leave soon,” he murmured into your ear, lips dragging over your skin. “Maybe stop on the way back to my place and grab some real food. I don’t think that pizza’s ever going to come.” 

“I don’t either, so that sounds good.” You sipped from your cup, frowning when you only got half a mouthful of liquid. “I think I need a refill. Maybe some water, too. Do you -”

“Tim? Tim Rockford?” Turning your head toward the sound, you watched a man and a woman heading for where you stood, her eyes wide and his grin huge. “We haven’t seen you in months, where have you been?” He tightened his grip on you as the couple approached, and for a few minutes, everything was fine. 

Tim introduced you to them, explaining that he’d worked a few ridiculously complex cases, and that he’d been spending a lot of his time off of work getting to know you. You saw the look of sympathy in the woman’s eyes, the man rolling his and swearing before asking Tim if he’d ever considered a different job. And here we go… 

You sighed as the conversation shifted, smiling politely for a little while before you excused yourself, squeezing Tim’s hand and telling him you’d bring him another beer when you came back. He let you go - reluctantly, if you were reading his expression correctly - and it didn’t take long for you to make your way into the kitchen. 

Once there you busied yourself with filling and drinking a tall glass of water, frowning as you eyed the large window over the sink that overlooked the back yard. You had to be buzzed - that was the only explanation for the feeling that was twisting your stomach into knots - because there was no other reason for it. 

You were jealous - not of anyone in particular, but of the fact that Tim’s attention was so divided. He hadn’t given you any reason to be jealous, and none of the conversations had been anything for you to worry about, but you couldn’t help it. I wasn’t even like this when I talked to Chelsea, and she was the last person he’d slept with at that point. 

It was the repeated distractions - the way you’d barely had time alone with him in two weeks, and instead of spending the night tangled up on his couch with a movie playing quietly in the background, you were out and socializing, also not spending time alone with him. 

Rubbing at your forehead, you tossed the empty cup into the trash and then headed for the refrigerator, pulling the door open. I’ll get him a beer and grab one of the ciders for myself. Those are low ABV, one more won’t - “Would you mind passing me a beer since you’ve got the door open?” 

Turning your head at the sound of the man’s voice, you opened your mouth to agree, automatically reaching for one of the bottles and passing it over as you spoke again. “Sure. I think there’s a bottle opener on the counter, but -”

“I’ve got one on my keys. Thanks though.” You grabbed two more bottles - one for yourself and one for Tim, and then shut the door, spinning back toward the counter. “Here.” The man that had spoken stepped closer, one arm extended and a set of keys in his outstretched hand. “It’s already out and ready to go.” 

You thanked him, popping the caps off of your drinks and setting them down before you reached forward, giving him back his keys. “Have a good night.” Fingers closing around the necks of the bottles, you moved to step around him and back into the other room, ready to get back to Tim. 

“I haven’t met you, have I?” The man stepped closer, head tilted to one side. “I’m Aaron. Are you friends with Ella?” Shaking your head, you took a sip of your drink, leaning back against the counter. 

“No. I came with someone else. He knows Ella and Devin.” Pausing, you eyed Aaron, waiting to see if he asked who you were with. When he didn’t, you continued. “Tim? I’m not sure if you know him or…�� You trailed off when he shook his head, taking a drink of his beer. “He got locked into a conversation, and I offered to come and get him another drink.” 

“That’s too bad. But at least it means I got a chance to say hello, so maybe it isn’t.” He stood up straight, his smile widening. “How could this Tim let himself get distracted from such a -”

“Because Tim’s an idiot.” Your lips twitched at the interruption, head turning enough so that you could see the man leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and the look in his eyes scorching. “And he’s not distracted anymore.” Aaron scoffed, holding up a hand and then backing away, his mouth set in a disappointed frown. There’s nothing to be disappointed about. 

Moments later, you and Tim were alone in the kitchen, the man pushing off of the frame and stalking toward you, arms hanging loosely by his sides. “I got you a beer.” Heart pounding, you held it out to him. “I was just -” 

“I don’t care.” He took the bottle from you and then reached past you to set it back down, stepping as close as he could and caging you in against the edge of the counter. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No.” You only got the single word out before Tim’s mouth was on yours, the kiss almost desperate as he sucked your lower lip between his. Oh, he’s… this is new. Winding your arms around his neck, you groaned, one of Tim’s hands sliding down and past your waist, fingertips slipping into your back pocket before they curled. 

You rocked your hips forward and felt Tim smile against your lips, his teeth grazing your skin before he backed away. He didn’t go far, though, the man blinking slowly as you caught your breath, hand still firmly in place. What the fuck is this version of him? “It takes a lot to get me riled up like this.” He arched a brow, eyes locked with yours. “And I know I have no reason to feel like …” Tim pressed his lips together, eyes narrowing. “Oh, this is interesting.” 

You’d rarely seen him flustered - even when confronted with your anger over Ryan, or the way Chelsea had shown up unexpectedly - so the fact that the mere sight of you alone in a room with someone else brought out possessiveness in Tim was a big deal. “I think he got the hint, Detective Rockford.” His eyes flashed and then Tim was kissing you again, that one more subdued but no less intimate. 

You parted your lips, the tip of your tongue probing at the seam of his, and he let you deepen it, your fingers raking through the hair at the base of his skull, the hand not on your ass sliding around you and beneath your shirt, his fingertips trailing up the center of your back. So it wasn’t just me. Tonight got to him, too. 

“Oh, he definitely got the hint.” Tim spoke after taking a deep breath, both hands still on you. “I’m sorry I didn’t spend more time with you tonight. I didn’t mean for -”

“You don’t need to apologize.” Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you closed your eyes. “It’s going to happen that way. Even when we’re out places together, we can’t just … spend all of our time talking to each other. We both have other friends, Tim.” 

“Yeah, well…” He wrinkled his nose, letting go of you and taking a full step back. “I got kind of used to having you mostly to myself these last couple months.” 

“Me too.” Your smile widening, you shook your head. “I don’t even really want this drink, I just want -”

“C’mon. Let’s go.” Waving his hand dismissively, he reached for you with his other one. “Let’s get out of here before someone else tries to talk to me.” He winked. “Or to you.” 

The laugh bubbled up and out of your mouth as Tim’s fingers closed around yours, tugging you away from the counter. “Is there a back door? If we walk back through that living room, someone’s going to want your attention.” 

“Too bad for them.” He headed for the door, turning his head to look at you, one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk. “The only one getting any of my attention for the rest of the night is you.” 

—

[ladamedusoif]

Cookies (Tim Rockford X F!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 26

Pairing: Tim Rockford x F!Reader

Word Count: 1455

Rating: Explicit; 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Established relationship (Reader is Tim’s wife); workplace sex; fingering; unprotected but safe PiV sex (Reader is on birth control); no use of Y/N; no physical descriptions of Reader; strong language; when we say “fuck the police” this is what we mean

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Pedro Boys Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist!

Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to keep up with my work.

Tim kisses you on the cheek as he heads down to the precinct on Christmas Eve, overcoat in hand.

“I hate leaving you all, baby, but…”

You wrap him in a tight embrace and return his kiss. “Tim, you’re a good man. I’m sure Corinna appreciates you taking the Christmas Eve cover, so she can be at home for her baby’s first Christmas.”

Your husband’s ears pink up a little at your praise. “I guess. And older cops did it for us, too, when the kids were tiny.”

He looks over your shoulder into your mother’s kitchen, where your daughters are excitedly asking their grandma whether the Christmas cookies are cool enough to decorate. You turn and smile at the scene.

“I love you, Detective Rockford. We’ll save you some cookies. Come home safe.”

***

The cop at the front desk is thanking his lucky stars as he sips his umpteenth cup of filter coffee. It’s almost midnight on Christmas Eve, and - other than a couple of minor call-outs for the guys out in the patrol car to break up bar fights - he hasn’t had to book a single person into the cells.

It’s a goddamn Christmas miracle.

And then the door buzzes. He sighs in exasperation and checks the CCTV. A woman, wearing a winter hat and carrying a tote bag. He presses the button to let her in.

“Hello there, ma’am. Now, I have to warn you, as it’s Christmas Eve we don’t have a full complement of officers in tonight and - oh! Hi there, Mrs R!”

You smile as you take off your hat and scarf, and hand him a small tin. “Hey, Bryan. Tim in his office?”

“Sure is. Hey, these some of your famous cookies?”

You’re already climbing the stairs to your husband’s office. “Maybe. Open it and see if Santa thinks you’ve been a good cop this year.”

***

Tim’s at his desk, shirt sleeves rolled up and tie slightly loose, flipping through some papers with his glasses on. The desk lamp bathes him in a warm light, highlighting his handsome features, and you pause for a moment to take him in before you knock on the door.

He looks up in surprise before a broad smile spreads across his face. “Hello there, miss. What brings you to the precinct on a Christmas Eve?”

You carefully close the door and turn the little lock on the handle, before pulling down the blind. You reach into your bag and produce another cookie tin, sauntering over to Tim’s desk and placing it in front of him.

“So, everyone was tucked up in bed at home, and would you believe it? I met Santa Claus, leaving gifts for the girls.”

Your husband chuckles and pulls you onto his lap. “That so?”

You nod. “The man himself. And you know what he said?”

Tim shakes his head, eyes twinkling. You lean in and kiss him softly.

“He said that Tim Rockford had been a particularly good boy this year, and he should get an extra special gift.”

Tim’s eyes turn to the cookie tin. “The cookies?”

You shrug, reach for the tin, and open the lid. “You could say that, I guess. They’re part of the gift.”

He bursts out laughing when he looks inside and takes out a gingerbread man perfectly decorated to resemble - well, him. White shirt, black pants, dark hair and moustache, tie, and even a pair of shoulder holsters.

“Your handiwork?”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Damn right. Why wouldn’t I make cookies that look like the most delicious man I know?”

He eyes you up suspiciously, but a smile plays on his lips. “You said the cookies were part of the gift.”

You stand up and move his paperwork out of the way, clearing enough space on the desk so that you can sit up on it. “The other part is under my coat.”

Tim’s eyes widen as he reaches for the buttons on your knee-length woollen coat, unbuttoning them eagerly and pulling the coat open.

His mouth falls open. “Holy fuck, baby.”

“You like what you see?” You fight against all the anxieties and insecurities that haunt you about your body, focusing on the look of astonished desire that’s burning in your husband’s eyes.

Tim’s eyes roam over you, taking in the dark red bra and matching, high-waisted panties trimmed in black lace, the sheer black stockings. He carefully eases off your coat and throws it to one side, running his big hands gently over the soft skin of your shoulders as he slips down the straps of your bra.

“I love what I see.” His voice is a rapt whisper.

He slips his hands to your back and waist and pulls you tight to him as he kisses you deeply, moaning as you twine your fingers through his dark, grey-streaked curls. You bring your hands to his belt buckle, working it open and undoing his pants so you can palm his cock, already hardening under your touch.

Tim brings his mouth to the side of your neck and begins to softly bite and lick the sensitive skin, working his way down to your breasts as one hand holds you in place while the other tugs aside the lacy fabric that covers your pussy. “I fucking love what I see,” he grunts, pulling down the cups of your bra to expose your breasts. “I love you. My sexy fucking wife.”

You whine as two thick fingers trail across your folds before settling on your clit, working it steadily in the way only he knows. “I’m going to get you good and wet for me, my love,” Tim murmurs, encouraging you to lift your hips so he can ease off your panties.

“Mmmm… and then what are you going to do to me, Detective?”

He slips his fingers into your cunt, pulling a delighted gasp from you. “And then, Mrs Rockford, I plan on fucking you hard right here on this desk. But only if you come for me first.”

A hook of his fingers and you’re squealing with pleasure as Tim spreads you out in front of him, standing between your thighs as you continue to stroke his dick. He fucks you over and over with his fingers, watching you writhe and buck as you near your climax.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours. “You look so beautiful like this, all spread out and ready to come on my fingers. Can’t fuckin’ believe you’re mine, sometimes.” Your pussy tightens around him and he knows you’re about to come.

“Tim…Tim, fuck, I’m - oh, fuck, baby.” He keeps fingering you through the orgasm, sucking on your nipples as he extends the wave of pleasure running through you.

You reach up and undo his tie and unbutton his shirt, hitching up his under vest so you can feel the soft, warm skin of his belly against yours as he pushes himself inside you and begins to fuck you. You hitch up your legs around his waist to hold Tim in place, slipping your hands under his shirt and gripping his broad shoulders firmly as he takes you on his desk.

“Feel good?”

“Fucking incredible, Tim - you?”

He leans his head against your chest and flicks his tongue over your nipple. “Baby, you always feel amazing but this - fuck, this is so fuckin’ good. Feels so tight and wet for me. Listen to that.”

For a moment the only sound in the office is the lewd wetness, skin on skin, and your pants and moans.

“Can’t believe you did this for me, baby,” Tim grunts, speeding up his rhythm and making you whine, arching your back. “Came down here in nothing but lingerie, ready to fuck me…fuck, you’re incredible.”

You giggle a little. “Got lonely at home, my love. Needed to have my man.”

Tim’s faltering rhythm tells you he’s nearly there as he buries himself deeper inside you. “You’ve got him, baby. All yours. All…”

And he’s there, spilling inside you as he collapses on your chest.

***

Cleaned up but still a little dishevelled, you sit on the floor of the office and eat some of the cookies, accompanied by weak coffee.

In the distance, you can hear chimes signalling the hour.

“Hey. It’s midnight. Merry Christmas, Detective Rockford.”

Tim kisses you, tasting of ginger and sugar and spice and all things nice.

“Merry Christmas, Mrs Rockford. And thank you for my extra-special gift.”

[for-a-longlongtime]

Update: thank you for all the prompt submissions!

Just wanted to make a quick little update - about 20 people sent me asks with their suggestions for a favorite LGBTQIA+ pairing or premise 🙌🏳️‍🌈 Some of y’all even included several prompts, love the enthusiasm! And particularly that they’re all so very different.

I’ve made an overview of these for myself and I’m gonna take my time working through these, probably throughout the next months or until the end of the year, depending on how the spirit moves me.

Some of them sparked immediately ideas ( @sin-djarin you know what you did 😏), like a prompt by @lotusbxtch that immediately went kinda wild when @magpiepills and I went back and forth on it - is it going to be an Ezra fic that very much got out of hand? Probablyyyy. There was a Tim Rockford x Dave York request that initially had me stumped, and then took on a life of its own thanks to a post @oliveksmoked had shared earlier this (last?) week - which became something kind of ambitious and is going to take time to write, but should be a lot of fun once it comes together. And a great submission by someone asking for Frankie x black trans man reader x Santi 😍

PLUS there was an ask for a male reader x Jake Lockley fic!! Thank you so much to the anon who requested that, it’s the only Oscar character prompt I got side from some Santi related things - so even though I’m wildly intimidated by the idea of writing Jake, it’ll be great to explore!

One of my favorite requests is “Joel jerks off to gay porn for the first time”, which is probably gonna be one of the prompts I’ll finish the soonest because it immediately called up an evocative scene. 😍

So, just wanted to say thank you to everybody who submitted something! It’s already making my brain think in new ways, play with different scenarios and practice some writing muscles I hadn’t even considered in a while. Yay!

[604to647]

Dance for Me

8.4K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: You and your friends go to a strip club for a fun girls’ night where, unbeknownst to you, Detective Rockford is undercover.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please).  Strip club, pole dancing as fitness, soft but also slightly possessive!Tim, slightly possessive!Reader, established relationship, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby, gorgeous), private room shenanigans (Fingering. It's fingering).

A/N: Written for @yopossum’s mootboardsandminifics celebration!  Congrats again on your milestone and thank you for the gorgeous moodboard!  As well, credit must be paid to @inept-the-magnificent for putting Undercover!Tim in our collective minds with this pic – for our story, let’s imagine he looks exactly like this, except he wears his leather jacket over his usual white dress shirt, unbuttoned very low to reveal his black knit undershirt (Halp 🫠🫠).  As always with our The Rockford Portfolio couple, the story can be read alone, but this instalment has a few nods to other stories from the collection (nothing important!); it's also a little longer than usual and has a silly police case subplot - I hope you all still enjoy!

And yes, for those who have read Strawberry Shortcake, this is indeed the same The Midnight Palace 🤭 (you don’t have to read it, it’s just a fun little Easter egg).

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

Tim opens the door to your apartment to the welcomed smell of something savoury and aromatic simmering on the stove.

“I’m home, Shutterbug,” he calls as he toes off his shoes.

“Perfect timing, Detective!  I’m just plating dinner – how was your day?” he hears you busy in the kitchen.

“Not too bad, baby.  Dinner smells gr-” Tim’s voice cuts off when he drops his keys in the key bowl on the foyer table but doesn’t hear the familiar clinking of his keys with yours; he looks down to see the reason: a flyer that’s been thrown into the bowl on top of your keys. 

The Midnight Palace.  What would you be doing with a flyer for a local strip club?  For this particular strip club?

He’s still turning it over and looking at the images of silhouetted body parts bathed in neon pink lighting as he hangs his suit jacket on the back of his dining room chair, sitting just as you come out with two steaming plates of food.

Setting down his dinner, you lean over to plant a sweet, welcome home kiss to Tim’s lips, letting him know with your tender, but lingering brushes against his irresistible pout that you’ve missed him all day.

“Thank you, Shutterbug, dinner looks amazing.”  You beam at Tim’s compliment as you sit.

“How come you have a flyer for The Midnight Palace?” he holds up the flyer he found.

You giggle, “Oh! Do you remember when Mimi had her bachelorette party at that pole dancing class?”

Did he remember? Yeah.  Tim remembers that you came home and sat him on the edge of the bed so you could show him the off-pole moves you had learned in class.  He remembers the way you had arched your chest forward while perched on the chair you placed in front of him and extended your limbs seductively while slowly opening your legs - only to snap them shut at the last second and swivel away from Tim’s lustful gaze, but not before he spied the darkening spot on the front of your panties.  Tim remembers how his eyes nearly fell out of their sockets following the hypnotic sway of your hips as you moved to straddled the chair with your back to him so that you could strip down to your lingerie while throwing him the occasional smirk over your shoulder.  He also remembers how he had taken you on all fours right there on the floor after you teasingly crawled towards him with your tits falling out of your bra and your juicy ass pointed up in the air, wiggling for his attention.

“I remember,” he grins through a mouth full of vegetables.

“Well, Meems has been attending the class semi-regularly ever since – she really likes the workout, says its good for the core,” you gesture cheekily to your own stomach that’s currently rumbling with hunger, “and her instructor works at The Midnight Palace.  Anyways, once a month they have an Amateur Night and the owner lets Sasha invite her students as a way to give them some fun practice in a different setting and to help them build up their confidence.”

Tim nods slower, still chewing as you carry on, “Anyways, Meems is going to do Amateur Night this Saturday and she needs a hype squad, so a bunch of us are going to make a girls night out of it.”

“That sounds nice,” Tim says carefully, he can tell you’re not done and he’s still listening, but the detective part of his brain that never really shuts off is starting to boot up from sleep mode.

“… and she also asked if those of us who were at her bachelorette party might also want to dance… for moral support,” you chew your lower lip, eyeing Tim’s reaction.

“Is that something you want to do, Shutterbug?”

“I don’t know?  It might be fun cause we’re all such good friends and I remember the class being really cool.  And there’s no obligation to strip or anything; Mimi says she’s just going to wear like a bra and some exercise shorts – it’s really about the pole dancing.  I thought I might go to a class or two with her this week to see if I recall any of the moves,” you hesitate, “Would you be okay with that?”

You don’t know what you really mean by asking Tim this question.  First of all, you aren’t asking for his permission and you know Tim would never presume so, likely he would probably be confused (and possibly even upset on your behalf) if you were.  Second, you know for a fact that Tim is the last person to be judgemental about any kind of sex work – you’ve seen firsthand how respectful and protective he is over some of his female informants.  You suppose you just don’t want to make him uncomfortable, even if you can’t articulate why he might feel that way – some type of possessiveness, maybe.

Tim tries to give you a comforting smile; as much as he loves to claim ownership over you when the two of you are in bed, he doesn’t have any desire to exert actual control over you or what you do.  He finds any poor excuse of a man who mistakenly thinks he’s entitled to a say over what women do with their time and bodies to be pathetic as fuck - he’s run into guys like that throughout his entire career and thrown more than his fair share behind bars.  You’re your own woman, one who Tim admires exceedingly, and the last thing he would ever want is for you to hold yourself back on his account, “Baby, you don’t need to worry about me.  If you want to get up on that stage and dance, I’m sure you’ll blow them all away.  And I know you always save the good stuff for me, anyways.”  He winks at you.

You giggle and lean over the table to kiss Tim’s cheek; he’s always so supportive - how did you get so lucky?

“But,” and Tim looks serious, “can I tell you something in confidence, Shutterbug?”

You nod.

“The Midnight Palace has a clean reputation, but… the club showed up in Mr. Pie’s accounting books and we don’t know why or what the connection is.  There could be something fishy going on there.”

Tim reaches into his jacket inside pocket and pulls out his detective’s notebook, flipping through the pages until he finds what he’s looking for and turns the notebook towards you, pointing at something on the open page, “The club name has been entered into the Pie ledgers a handful of times over the last year, always at irregular intervals.  There’s no notation in the books other than this symbol written next to it.”

You look at it: it’s a simple line drawing of a tube with some short diagonal lines drawn across the column.

“We don’t know what it means, but this symbol looks like a joint and it might denote some type of drug activity.  It could be a pick up, a drop off, a contact, a payoff location, a stash house, or who know what else.  Promise me you and your friends will be extra careful, okay?”

You melt at the look of worry on Tim’s face and nod, so touched by his concern, “I’ll be careful, baby.” When his hard lined face softens a little, you cup Tim’s face in your hands, softly scratching his facial scruff so he knows you appreciate how he’s always looking out for you; he leans into your touch, closing his eyes at this affectionate gesture.

“But, can I say something?”

Tim opens his eyes to let you know he’s listening.

“That doesn’t look like a joint.  It looks like a spring roll.”

Tim laughs, “Why would it be a spring roll?”

“I dunno?  Pie?  Spring roll?  Maybe it’s just a food thing,” you giggle.

“Alright, alright.  I’ll look into it,” Tim teases, “A lot of money in spring rolls, I hear.” 

“Woooooooooooo!!!!”

“Look at you, sexy lady!!!”

“Shake what your mama gave you!!!”

You grin to yourself when you hear your friends’ loud cheers, wolf whistles and hype-up cat calls as you get into position on stage, waiting for your music (“Dance Tonight” by Lucy Pearl) to start.  This past week you had attended Sasha’s pole dancing fitness class on your lunch breaks with Mimi and a few of your other girlfriends and not only found it to be the workout that Mimi claimed, but also just so, so much fun.

The positive, supportive female energy in the class had been uplifting and terribly contagious; by the end of the week, you found yourself not only excited to cheer on your friends and the rest of Sasha’s class at Amateur Night, but giddy with anticipation to get on the stage yourself.  The night held the promise of rowdy, empowering, unabashed fun.

You weren’t disappointed.  Not only was your group of friends in high spirits, all vibrating with enthusiasm and elation, but you were delighted to find that same caring and inclusive female comradery being extended by the women who worked with Sasha at The Midnight Palace.  The entire class was invited to come backstage into the dancers’ area to get ready, get hyped, and get into the mindset – the room buzzed with excited, feminine chatter.  All the house dancers, happy to have a more low-key night, were so encouraging: giving tips, sharing their body glitter and just being overall supportive and kind.  You were sitting in front of Sasha’s dressing table mirror, letting her apply some strawberry scented glitter gel to your cleavage (“It’s a crowd favourite,” she insisted, “trust me.”) when something sitting outside the door of the owner’s office catches your eye.

“What’s that?” you point to the arrangement of three white drawstring sacks, each the size of a garbage bag and looking so full that the contents would be threatening to burst out if not for the tops being drawn taut and tied into double knotted bows. 

“Oh!” Sasha looks over, “Shoot - they’re still there.  I was hoping that creep had come and gone already.”

Creep?  You look at her worried; Sasha catches your expression and smiles reassuringly, “Oh, don’t worry, hunny!  Chet isn’t a patron – you won’t see him out there when you’re on stage.  He’s just some loser that works for a guy that the owner’s brother got in some hot water with, so every so often the owner gets these bags ready and then Chet comes and picks them up.  I wish they would find somewhere else to do the pick up instead of our changing area though, cause that Chet is SUCH a creep.  Always leering at us and saying gross stuff; like, this guy does not understand boundaries AT ALL.  Poor Tiffany.  Her vanity is the closest to the office so he tries to chat her up the most.  Hangs around while she’s trying to get ready and asks her all kinds of inappropriate questions.”

Sasha makes a face and then looks sympathetically at her fellow dancer who does seem to be giving the offending bags a look of disgust. 

“What’s in the bags?” you ask.

“Oh, it’s all our tips!  Like the actual bills that patrons give us.  It’s not a regular thing, but we always know there’s going to be a pick-up in about a week when the owner asks us to start saving our tips.  We give her all the small bills for that week and then after Chet comes, she reimburses us in Benjamins.”  Sasha makes a silly “make it rain” motion with her hands and you laugh along with her.

“That’s a lot of small bills,” you marvel.

“Oh yeah!  Well, all the girls do it, even the cocktail waitresses – and it’s our tips for a whole week so it adds up to be a lot.  Our patrons here are VERY generous – you’ll see, babe!”

You smile gratefully at Sasha and confess that you hope you can do her and the class proud; like a clucking mother hen, she sweetly tells you she has complete confidence in you.  When she catches you looking at the bags again, she interprets your interest as unease, “Don’t worry about Chet, hun.  I didn’t mean to make you anxious – if he hasn’t come by now, he won’t until after midnight.  He avoids the crowds.”

You nod and try to give her a look that expresses relief, but internally, your heart is beating wildly.  In general, you don’t consider yourself to be a very nosey person, but you truly could not help yourself from inquiring when you saw the bags because each of the thick canvas sacks has a simple blackline drawing of a spring roll printed on the outside.  It looks exactly like the picture Tim had shown you from his notebook earlier in the week - this must be the club connection to Mr. Pie that Tim and his fellow detectives were looking for.

Even as you and your friends finish getting ready and go out to your reserved table to down some liquid courage, your mind keeps returning to Tim.  Should you call him?  Should you tell him what you learned?  Sasha said that Chet would be coming after midnight and by both her and Tim’s accounts, the pickups didn’t seem to follow any regular schedule - who knows when the next iteration would be?  You think you should call Tim – this could be important to the case and you can’t let your detective miss his chance for a solve.  You’ll call him right after your dance, you decide with some satisfaction.  Your distracted thoughts of Tim and his case keep your nerves at bay right up to when it’s your turn on stage; not for the first time, you’re grateful for the calming presence of your boyfriend even when he’s not with you.

🎶I wanna dance tonight, I wanna toast tonight, I'll spend my money tonight, I wanna get freaky tonight🎶

You’re still thinking of him when the opening notes of your song ring out and you start to swivel your body seductively to the beat.  Moving with a dancer-like grace towards the pole, you reach out to grab it suggestively the way Sasha taught you before taking off for your first, simple twirl around.  The loud cheers of your friends, the rest of Sasha’s class and the house dancers echo throughout the room and you beam, invigorated.  Hitting each low base beat with your hips, you run your hands up to your hair, mussing it playfully as you walk backwards towards the pole.  When your back hits the cool metal, you trail your hands slowly down your face, neck, then teasingly over your breasts until they get to the sash of your dress – all to the hoots and hollers of the crowd.

🎶Ask if she wants to go, Tonight's gonna be hot for sure, Be dancin' on the floor, Folks trippin' I don't know🎶

Rather than wear a skimpy outfit, you had opted for a simple wrap dress that accentuates your curves – the plan was to undo the front of the dress and let it fall apart to reveal your lingerie, then continue your dance with the dress open.  That didn’t feel too revealing or scandalous, and visually, you thought it would look nice with the fabric of the dress flowing behind you as you swung around the pole.  Sascha had emphasized in class that a lot of pole dancing was about performance. 

As the knot holding your dress together unfurls and your dress starts to fall away from your body, you stalk towards the front of the stage with a bounce in your step timed to the music so that the slinky garment unravels the rest of the way on its own to reveal your matching bright pink lace lingerie underneath.  The screams from the women in the crowd practically shake the walls:

“So fucking hot!!!”

“OOOOOhhhhh baby!!!”

“Show us that assssssssss, yasssssssssss!!!”

God, you love women.  The front portion of the room tonight is nearly all women, full of amateurs like those from Sasha’s class and their cheering friends – every single female voice is in hype mode, loud and proud: cheering on each woman who takes the stage for celebrating her own special brand of femininity, rooting for her to embrace the physicality and power of her body and sexuality, no matter her shape, size, age.  Even you’re surprised by just how comfortable and confident you feel on stage, not at all exposed or vulnerable even though you’re only wearing underwear – that’s the power of women supporting women.  There are some male patrons in the club tonight, but they’re mainly in the back of the room and are wildly outnumbered; the lights shining on the stage are so bright, you can hardly make them out.

🎶Money flyin' everywhere, Champagne, we won't go there, Bottles poppin' in the air, They'll be screamin, "I don't care"🎶

And then, as if your earlier thoughts had conjured him, you see Tim while you’re on the pole doing Sasha’s signature hook spin move that took her two whole days to teach you.  You have to do a double take on your second rotation because you barely recognize him.  For one, his normally soft curls have been pushed back and styled with product you’re sure you’ve never seen on the bathroom counter; for another, the leather jacket that currently hugs his broad shoulders and hangs open on his wide frame is like unlike anything he has hanging in your shared closet.  His white dress shirt you do recognize: one of the many that he wears for work where the crisp cotton wraps tight around his thick tree trunk arms and the buttons down the front valiantly strain trying to contain his hard chest.  Only tonight, those same buttons have been given a reprieve because Tim’s left over half of them undone so that the open neckline reveals a black knit undershirt that you’re also seeing for the first time. 

He looks hot. 

Not that he doesn’t always – Tim is one of the most gorgeous men you’ve ever met, and his clean, simple, utilitarian style (plus that gun holster, sigh) has always had an almost primeval hold over you.  But something about this near opposite outfit and his combed back hair, like you’re watching a sexy Bizarro Tim manspread on the nearly too small lounge chair as he sets his dark gaze upon you, is causing your breath to quicken and your pussy to clench around nothing.

What’s he doing here?  Tim certainly didn’t tell you he was coming to The Midnight Palace tonight.  And why is he dressed like that?

You decide it’s no matter as you smirk and shimmy to the upbeat tempo of the music, shrugging your dress off your shoulders and letting it fall to the ground - leaving you on stage in just your bra and panties.  It wasn’t the original plan, but Tim showing up wasn’t in the plan either - now that he’s here, you’re going to give him something to look at.

🎶Look what the cat hauled in, Me and a couple friends, No need to settle down, My body don't know how🎶

---

“Rockford, isn’t that-”

“Close your eyes, Calloway,” growls Tim.  He knows without a doubt that the tone of his voice leaves no room for argument.  Tim realizes he hadn’t thought through this plan.

He wasn’t able to ignore the nagging voice in his head when you told him that you were going to dance at The Midnight Palace; it wasn’t that he was bothered by you going to a strip club or even that you would be dancing on the amateur stage.  If he was completely honest with himself, he did feel a tug of something akin to possessiveness at the idea of other people seeing what he considered his – but his more practical, clear-headed self didn’t have any feelings other than pride in you for having the confidence and skill to get up on that stage.  Tim already knew, intimately, that you have impressive assets, and if you wanted to show them off, he fully supported you.  No - it was the Pie case that ate at him.  That The Midnight Palace was somehow connected to Mr. Pie and Tim didn’t know how was driving him crazy; it made him nervous that you and your friends were going somewhere where some unidentified danger might be lurking.

So, he convinced his long suffering, frequent partner Detective Arnold Calloway to go undercover with him at the club tonight, with a plan to stake it out for any clues or activity that might shed some light on The Midnight Palace’s bearing on their case.

Tim got to the club after you and spends most of his time alternating between scanning the crowd, observing the dark corners of the club for suspicious activity and watching you and your friends at your table next to the stage.  He can’t help but smile when he sees how much fun you’re having – you’re throwing back drinks and throwing down bills onto the stage with aplomb; Tim can hear your bright voice cheering on all the dancers from where he sits.  The way your eyes light up and you gasp in pure delight when a dancer does an impressive pole trick is adorable; your genuine admiration for the women that surround you and the joy you derive just from being with your friends warms his heart.  Even in a strip club, his Shutterbug is so sweet.

He had completely forgotten that you were going to dance until he sees you walk onto the stage and that’s when it hits the brilliant Detective Tim Rockford for the first time that he’s about to sit in a room with his partner and a bunch of strangers, some of whom don’t have the same supportive motives as the women next to the stage, while his girlfriend pole dances in some state of undress.  He really hadn’t thought this through.

Tim glances over and once he’s ascertained that Calloway’s eyes are indeed closed, he goes back to watching you on stage - admiring the elegance with which you move your body to the music and the fluid way you maneuver around the pole.  His breath hitches when your dress falls open to reveal the sexiest lingerie set he’s ever seen – bright fuchsia lace that hugs your curves just right, lifting and accentuating all your softness while simultaneously giving him and everyone in the room hope that you might spill over and grant them all a peek of the heaven that’s underneath.

He might drool a little.

🎶Right there I see you lookin', Sure hope that you're not took and, Don't get lost in the crowd, This place is so damn wild🎶

Tim knows that you see him.  He can actually pinpoint the moment you do because the way your hips pop to the bass beat of the RnB music gets a little bouncier.  The shake of your tits in your lace bra a little jigglier.  He sees the curve of your pretty lips crook into a little smirk - you’re giving him a show. 

🎶Go ahead and floss your ice, Go ahead do what you like, I'm feelin' just as fly, Do your thing it's on tonight🎶

As you dance, alternating using the chair as a prop and doing the periodic spin around the pole, Tim feels hypnotized.  What you’re revealing isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before, nor is it particularly indecent, but something about this environment with its roars of approval and sexual innuendo, air of lust, and the eyes of others that want to see more of you – is making Tim feral.  He keeps his eyes trained on you, as if he could ever look anywhere else, as you kneel on the stage and lower yourself to the floor, crawling towards the applause and screams of your friends. 

He’s definitely drooling.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spies a group of smarmy looking guys sitting in front of him who are all tracking you with their whole bodies – pointing at you and yelling to each other about how you were “a good one.”  Their admiring and sometimes raunchy comments about you cause Tim’s nerves to stand on end; when he overhears how you're starring in their wistful fantasies he grips the armrests of his chair so hard he thinks he might rip through the faux leather.

“You think she’ll offer to do lap dances?” the double polo wearing douchebag closest to Tim yells to his equally douchey friends.

Tim is a millisecond from pushing back his chair and dragging this dumb frat boy out of the club by the scruff of his neck when Calloway, eyes still squeezed tight warns, “We’re here to do a job, Rockford.”

Tim’s nostrils flare as he breathes tightly to try and calm down, redirecting his focus to the rhythmic sway of your body on stage as you gear up to do one last spin of the pole - revolving two, three, four times, then sliding to the floor with your knees spread and back arched to point your perfect heaving breasts to the ceiling when the song ends.

🎶I wanna dance tonight, I wanna toast tonight, I'll spend my money tonight, I wanna get freaky tonight🎶

---

With giggling bashfulness, you collect the bills that were thrown onstage during your performance and exit behind the curtain, ready to rejoin your friends and thinking you’ll pretend that you haven’t seen Tim yet just to tease him a little more (though brilliant detective that he is, you’re sure he already knows that you know he’s here).  Exiting through the side door while the stage is being prepared for the next dancer, you emerge still in your underwear (for Tim’s sake, not bothering to put on your dress), when you see Tim surrounded by a gaggle of women offering up lap dances.

It probably wouldn’t have bothered you too much except you see one of the girls put her hand on Tim’s arm and give his muscles a groping feel that he doesn’t look too keen on.  When he politely shakes it off, you see another girl get right up in his face, leaning in close by putting her hands on Tim’s upper thighs.

That’s a bit bold, you think - those hands are placed a bit higher on your boyfriend’s legs than you would prefer.  Judging by the expression on Tim’s face, his preference would be if they weren't on his body at all.  Bearing no ill will or malice towards your fellow amateur dancers, you could pretend what you do next is purely altruistic, but you can’t ignore the slow stir of possessiveness you feel simmering in your stomach.  Gesturing to your friends that you’re heading over in Tim’s direction so they don’t think you got lost, you catch Mimi and your other girlfriends’ looks of amusement when they follow the line of your pointing finger and spot Tim who currently has more than a few pairs of breasts being shaken in his face.

You come up from behind Tim’s chair, purposefully ignoring the girls that are gyrating right in front of him, and place your fingertips on his broad shoulders, pressing down possessively on the supple leather.  Tim stiffens at the initial contact, but softens almost immediately as you start to trail your hands down the front of his leather jacket, recognizing your touch by the way your fingers claw over his hard chest.

As your hands travel lower, claiming ownership over Tim’s chest and the heart contained within, Tim closes his eyes and breathes in your sweet, familiar perfume when he feels your face next to his.  He expects a chaste kiss to the cheek but instead, you dip your head so your nose nudges down past his jaw, breath fanning over where his dress shirt meets his neck.  Hands climbing into the space where the shirt opens, your fingers spread over the black knit tank underneath before you pull him back flush against his chair - the unexpected movement causes Tim to exhale with an “Oomf!”  Keeping him pinned, you lower your puckered lips to the collar of Tim’s white shirt, pressing down firmly so that you leave behind a perfect bright pink lipstick imprint of your pout – marking your man as yours.

Tim doesn’t even notice when the girls that were trying to get his attention scatter, in search of other, more willing laps – never having paid them much mind in the first place; but he does smiles smugly when he sees several of the men from the group in front throwing looks of jealousy his way at the attention you’re giving him.

“Fancy seeing you here, Detective,” you coo so only he can hear, your lips ghosting over the sensitive spot behind Tim’s earlobe.

“Just a coincidence, Shutterbug.  Remember I told you that we had some concerns about this place? Calloway and I thought it was a good night for some undercover work, isn’t that right?”

“Please leave me out of this,” begs Calloway, desperately trying to avert his eyes from his partner’s girlfriend’s half naked body.

You giggle, “Hi Arnie!”  Calloway gives you a wave in response without making eye contact.

“Ok, Mr. Undercover – take me to a private room,” you lace your fingers through Tim’s and pull him up out of his chair; right before you head off with Tim in tow, you call out to Calloway, “Keep your phone handy, Arnie - Tim’s going to text you!”

Still looking anywhere but at you, Calloway looks stricken at the prospect.  Tim’s confused by your declaration as well, but is too busy grinning at the shocked expressions of your other admirers to pay it much attention – in fact, he might make it a point to give your panty-clad ass a firm palming as the two of you walk away.

Once you pull the curtains closed on the private room, you lead Tim to the velvet couches that line the back wall - climbing on top to straddle him once he’s settled.

“Okay, Detective, why are you really here?”

“I told you, baby - just routine police work.”

You grind a little over the crotch of Tim’s pants, eliciting a little groan from the back of his throat and he grips you tighter around the waist.  Stopping yourself from rolling your eyes at Tim’s answer, you put on an exaggerated look of concern, “You didn’t come because of me?  You came here to look at other half naked girls?”  Pressing your breasts together with your arms, you push them up towards Tim’s face and give him a pout.

Detective Tim Rockford is well known for his skills in the interrogation room, but he knows when he’s outmatched, “Ok, Shutterbug.  I admit it.  Just wanted to keep an eye on you – I was worried.  The Midnight Palace doesn’t have a reputation for anything seedy, but I can’t ignore that there’s a connection to Mr. Pie’s organization.  We don’t know what it is, so I can’t help but imagine the worst.”

Smiling down at your sweet detective, you kiss Tim passionately, using your tongue to soothe his worrying heart.  Tim’s rough hands run up and down your bare back and over the lace that covers the plush globes of your ass, lightly kneading and making you moan - his hands feel so good and warm, but you can’t get distracted.  Pushing yourself off from Tim’s solid frame, you beam, “Lucky for you, I do know.”

“Know what, gorgeous?” Tim is leaning forward, trying to chase your lips again, but your next words jolt him out of his lustful haze.

“I know what The Midnight Palace’s connection to Mr. Pie is.”

Tim’s eyes widen as you tell him about the money bags with the small bills, the reluctant cooperation of the club owner trying to pay her brother’s debt, and how the girls are all creeped out by Chet, the pick-up guy.

“Sounds like money laundering, but probably just like a basic first layer – the small bills probably go on to get further cleaned somewhere else,” you muse thoughtfully as you finish up.

Mouth agape and face stunned, Tim can’t quite figure out what to say to express just how impressed and utterly in love he is.  Once again, you think of his work not as something that he does in his time away from you, but as something important to him and you treat it accordingly: listening when he tells you about his cases and using your own smart mind and sharp observation skills to help him.

“You should tell Arnie!  And maybe he can get a private room with Tiffany?  Sasha says that that Chet guy bothers her the most - I bet she would be more than happy to help if it meant getting rid of him,” you point towards Tim’s pocket to indicate he should text Calloway.  Tim does just that, exactly as you had predicted he would before the two of you came into the room.  He also texts a secondary team about possibly needing to set up surveillance and a tail.

When he’s done, Tim looks up to see you standing, cute little mischievous smile lighting up your face, “So, what should we do for the remainder of our private room time, Detective?”

Tim teases you right back, “Dance for me, Shutterbug?”

Shyly, you nod and start moving your body to the beat of the music streaming in from outside the room.  You place your hands on Tim’s thighs and spread his legs wide so you can dance in closer, swiveling your hips as you lower yourself between his knees, rubbing his inner thighs suggestively.  Rising slowly, body still moving in time with the music, you run your hands over your own body – drawing Tim’s darkened eyes to everywhere your delicate fingers graze: up, up the sides of your hips, along the lace trim of your panties, in lazy circles over your soft belly, over the swell of your tits and crossing over one another to lightly push the straps of your bra off your shoulders.

All the while your smooth legs brush up against his, getting dangerously close to Tim’s growing bulge.

Right before the falling straps of your bra start to tug down the lace covering your delectable curves, you spin around abruptly and bend over, putting your luscious ass on display - shaking and bouncing it provocatively in Tim’s face.  Just a few seconds of this tantalizing view has Tim snapping and reaching out with his meaty hands to grab you by your hips, yanking you back into his lap.

You yelp and laugh, throwing your arms around Tim’s neck and tease, “Hey, Detective!”  Pointing to a sign above the curtained entrance, “No touching.”

It’s all in good fun though as you kiss him, open mouthed and eager.

Tim grins back, “Call the cops on me then, Shutterbug,” as his hands roam over every inch of your body, groping and massaging fervently, as if to defy the rule on purpose.  You moan when his lips find that sweet spot on your neck that always makes you lose your mind; Tim sucks and licks while his fingers tug down the lacy cups of your bra to find your nipples already waiting for his touch, pert and pointy.

“Never seen this lingerie before, gorgeous.  Is it new?” Tim murmurs into your neck as he expertly pinches, rolls and tugs at your peaks the way that always gets you panting; you roll your hips over nothing, seeking to sooth the ache that he’s started to build up in your core.

“Mmmmmhmmm - wanted to surprise you when I got home later,” you breathe, eyes closed, your hands messing up Tim’s styled hair - tugging at his curls whenever his efforts cause an electric jolt of pleasure to run through your body.

“Looks good, baby.  And you looked really good on-stage tonight, Shutterbug.”

You tilt Tim’s face to yours with a little pull on his locks and gently press your lips to his, “Thank you, Tim.”  Your eyes are soft and grateful.

The two of you look longingly at one another as Tim’s hands drop to your waist, hands so big that his fingers reach around to your back where he rubs tormenting circles into your skin.

“You look good too, Detective.  I like this look on you,” you coo.

Tim blushes, “Thanks, baby.  It’s just some undercover stuff I’ve had forever.  Not even sure it fits right anymore.”

Not letting Tim get away with this self-effacing comment, you run your hands in an admiring manner over the soft leather of his jacket before raking your hands down his chest; fingers catching on the open V of his dress shirt before sliding under to caress the soft knit of his undershirt, “Fits pretty good from where I am, Detective.”

You kiss down Tim’s neck, past his collar bones and swipe your tongue along the neckline of the black wife beater, mouthing over the material and giving it a little nip with your teeth in between your words:

“Took my breath away when I saw you sitting in the club, baby.”

“Look so fucking hot and like such a bad boy.”

“Thought I was going to soak through my panties on stage and that everyone was going to see how wet I was for you.”

Tim groans at your dirty praise and slips a hand down the front of your lace panties, growling low, “How wet, gorgeous?”

There’s no need to answer - Tim starts to swipe through your folds with his thick fingers and finds you sopping wet and desperate.  He teases you mercilessly – dragging his fingers up and down your seam, paying little to no attention to your throbbing clit; occasionally brushing it only lightly before cruelly ignoring it in favour of dipping his fingers back down to your entrance, every so often even venturing to spread your ample slick down to your other hole.

“Please, Tim,” you whine against his lips.  You feel him grin.

You would say he takes mercy on you, but it hardly feels like mercy when Tim lowers his head to take your breast in his hot mouth just as he plunges two of his fingers deep into your cunt.  The sudden double sensation has you crying out and seeing stars – you chant your detective’s name softly and moan how good he makes you feel while Tim sucks and nibbles on your nipple and continues to saw in and out of your tight hole.  He reaches parts of you so deep and unexplored, even by you, eager to mark and lay claim to a land that will only ever be his.  Fuck, you love him.

Singing it so he knows, your melodic voice drips with lust and devotion.  Tim hums appreciatively against your chest; his response is to switch his worshipping mouth to the other side of your chest and push a third finger into your needy cunt.

The stretch is sharp and delicious - any sting of pain morphs quickly into pleasure; charmed by the way Tim curves his fingers against your tight walls, your pussy leaks shamelessly with fresh of arousal.  You buck a little in his hand, trying to chase the heel of his palm in order to give your poor aching clit some relief.

“Use me, baby – yeah, make yourself come on my fingers,” commands Tim, mouth still full of your soft, perky tits.

Bracing your hands on Tim’s broad shoulders for stability, you grind down, meeting each thrust of Tim’s hand so that his open palm spanks your pussy with a loud, wet slap every time.  The sound is debauched, pornographic, and it makes you gush even more.  When Tim angles his thumb to draw devastating circles on your clit, you nearly sob from near overstimulation, “I’m so close, baby, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come…”

Tim continues the looping of his rough thumb over your slippery nub while dragging his face away from your chest so he can lick up your neck, back to the sweet spot that started it all.  He bites down with a little smirk and grits out with your delicate skin still between his teeth, “Come.”

You let go and fall with a soundless scream, toppling over the edge of ecstasy, but, as always, with a warmth that blossoms in your chest in the knowledge that Tim is there to catch you.  Always right there to coax you through your high with his touch, his words, his love.

After you’ve caught your breath, Tim helps you right the lingerie that he helped christen and put on your dress.  As he’s retying the front sash for you, brows furrowed in concentration (he’s so much more used to undoing the knot), you ask, grin still spacey but eyes a little worried, “Did I do okay, Detective?”

“What do you mean?” Tim looks up to the sound of the trepidation lacing your voice.

“It’s okay that I asked about the bags I saw?  I don’t want to overstep when it comes to your investigation,” you’re chewing your lip adorably and Tim just wants to kiss away every little concern lining your pretty face.  Instead, he finishes adjusting your clothes, then slips his big hands under your dress to pull you close by the back of your thighs.

Tim presses his chin into your soft body and looks up at you adoringly as you card your fingers through his hair, “It’s more than okay, Shutterbug.  You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t take the opportunity to help when you see it.  I’m so lucky to have you help me, baby.”

Taking Tim’s face into your hands and running your thumbs through his facial scruff the way he likes, you lay the deepest, tenderest kiss on his lips – letting Tim lick in slow and sensually into your mouth, claiming your every breath as his own.  Pulling apart only when the little melodic bell that indicates private room times are up starts to chime, Tim gives you more than the necessary bills for the private time as you walk out.  When you tell him it’s too much, he closes your fingers over the cash with his hand, “You earned it, baby.”  You were going to give it all to the house dancers anyways, so you accept without any further fuss.

Before letting you go, Tim glances quickly at his phone while still squeezing your waist, “Calloway’s got Tiffany in a private room now.  I’m going to go join them… hopefully get some more info so we ID this Chet guy.  Will you be okay getting home, Shutterbug?”

You nod and the two of you mouth I love yous, before going your separate ways.  After rejoining your friends, you try not to let your mind wander to what Tim is doing too much as you cheer on the remaining dancers from Sasha’s class and flit the night away with your friends. 

Although you don’t see Tim again for the remainder of your time at The Midnight Palace, you spot his Crown Vic still parked in the lot when you and your friends leave the club.  It rained while you were inside and it must have been a warm summer storm because in the chillier night air, the cars in the lot all have a thick layer of condensation on their windows.  Doing your best to sidestep the fresh rain puddles that glow pink from their reflection of the club’s neon signs – you make it to Tim’s car and write “I love you” across his windshield with your finger, hoping it’ll still be there when he finally gets to leave.

You hardly see Tim for the next few days, which is unusual even for him.  In the wee hours of the morning following your night at The Midnight Palace, you received a picture of Tim’s windshield, your faded finger art still visible with a new word more recently added beneath to now read, I love you more.   

Going to pull an all-nighter, Shutterbug. 

Will try to get some shut eye on the couch in my office. 

Come back to me safe, Detective Rockford.

Nothing could keep me from you, baby.  Love you.

You’re busy the following day and don’t get a chance to visit Tim at the precinct or message him much, never mind badger him about making sure to eat or getting enough rest.

You suspect that he doesn’t do much of either, because you return home around dinner time to find takeout containers left for you on the kitchen counter and a loudly snoring Tim passed out in bed.  He barely stirs when you kiss his temple and wish him sweet dreams.

He’s gone again when you wake up, leaving you a good morning note to let you know that he misses and loves you as much as you do him. 

A busy work day for both of you has you once again missing the other’s calls and relegated to a few text messages here and there.  You’re really starting to miss him.

Finally, fate deigns to realign your and Tim’s schedules after two full days apart; you happily scramble to sit up in your nighttime bath when you hear a soft knock on the bathroom door.

“Hey Shutterbug,” Tim’s smile is soft, his eyes relieved, his entire stance exhausted.

“Hey yourself, Detective.  Long time no see,” you coo, resting your arms and chin on the side of the bathtub and gazing up at your handsome boyfriend, “Come in the water, baby.”

Tim undresses swiftly and slides into the warm water, fragrant and bright pink from the bath bomb you dropped in earlier.  It smells like jasmine and lemongrass, your shampoo and a fourth scent that Tim can never place but just always associates with you.  You sit behind Tim, legs bracketing his hips as you wash his hair and scrub down his body with a pouf.  Wherever it's needed, you try to apply some groan inducing pressure to Tim’s back with your slippery hands in order to work out some of the more stubborn knots - the office couch has not been kind to Detective Rockford’s back.

Despite the lack of sleep, the ache in his muscles, and missing you, Tim can’t help but grin widely – it’s been a hell of a last 48 hours in the Pie Case. 

“You were right, Shutterbug.”

“Hmmmm?” you’ve got your chin hooked over Tim’s shoulders, soaping up his beefy arms and thick chest.

“They were spring rolls.”

Thoroughly amused, you laugh a light musical laugh that sends Tim’s heart soaring, “That little emblem on the bags wasn’t a joint, it was a spring roll?”

Tim nods and then he tells you what he’s been doing for the last two days. 

After revealing their identities to Tiffany in the security of the private room at The Midnight Palace, she had been more than happy to help them take down Chet as you had correctly surmised.

The police easily set up surveillance and a tail that picked up Chet after he came by to grab the spring roll marked bags, which now contained stacks of marked bills that Tiffany helped sneak in.  The surveillance and the marked bills helped the police trace an intricate network of money laundering schemes over the past two days, of which, as you had also theorized, The Midnight Palace, was just an insignificant player.  But being able to pick up the money trail at such an early point of the overall scheme allowed the police to map out and uncover much more intricate and convoluted parts of the laundering network: bank accounts had been tagged and flagged, other local businesses implicated, international banks subpoenaed.  Chet himself had been picked up late this afternoon and sang like a bird.

The work was far from over, but a hell of a lot of progress had been made in the last two days – the whole precinct was riding on a high.  And Tim can’t help but swell with pride that they owed much of it to your keen eye.

You feel your face flush at Tim’s praise.  You don’t know what to say – it seems only natural for something that’s so important to the man you love to be on the forefront of your mind at all times; so instead, you ask a question to which you truly wish to know the answer, “Why a spring roll?”

“Ah ha!” Tim smiles, this was, he had to admit, rather clever, “The smaller bills collected in the Spring Roll bags were earmarked to be deposited at the bank under an account for a fake food court business selling Chinese food.  The bank never questioned it – large volume deposits of small bills for a food court stall seemed perfectly appropriate.”

“That is clever!” you muse, “But not clever enough.”  When Tim tilts his head back you kiss him with affection, proud of your brilliant detective’s mind.

Once satisfied with the state of Tim’s cleanliness, you wrap your arms around Tim’s neck and cheekily nip at his earlobe, “So… for my help, do I get paid in spring rolls?”

Tim hums, his hands finding the dip of your hips under the water, massaging them appreciatively, “We could do that, or you can redeem another prize from the Detectives’ Rewards Incentive Program.”

“Oh really?” you giggle at the inside joke from that first unforgettable night Tim took you to bed and grin into his wet hair - your pussy already throbbing with want.  You press your tits into Tim’s back, “What do I qualify for, Detective?”

“Let me show you,” Tim smirks.  Then before you can register what’s happening, Tim rolls over in the bath, sending bright pink water sloshing over the side of the tub as his hands find and latch onto those soft curves that he’s been dreaming of for the past two nights.  You yelp, squeal, then moan - putty in Detective Rockford’s capable hands as he shows you just how much you’ve been missed.

Audio and visual aids for this fic:

[ozarkthedog]

Happy birthday Ozzie, and congratulations on your follower milestone!!! You beautiful bean, I'm so glad this hellsite put us in each others' paths.

📝 For location-based smut prompt, Tim Rockford and dealer's choice of

public -8 inside one muses’s office. OR public 9 - inside a third party’s office they shouldn’t have access to. 

Just need this man to get freaky with me in an office setting is what I'm saying because look at him:

😭 i’m thankful everyday that we’ve gotten so close! here’s my token of gratitude. 😘💙

18+ mdni. Tim Rockford x f!reader. oral sex (fem receiving). public but private setting — office. special guest.

This is so wrong. 

It was bad enough that Tim was your superior and that you'd been sneaking around for the last month, fucking each other whenever he had a few moments of free time, but using a random co-worker's office? That was flat out stupid. 

Tim drops to his knees in the small room, making quick work of your skirt and hooking one of your legs over his leather holster encased shoulder.

He breathes in deep as he presses the lower half of his jaw against your panty clad mound. "Been thinkin' about this sweet pussy all day." He holds your weary gaze as he slots the thin material to the side and latches his lips around your clit.

Your fingers card through his hair, tugging just so to make him groan into your slick heat. His tongue dances along your slit, dipping between your folds, earning him soft hisses and mewls from your gasping lips.

This is sure to blow up in your faces, but as Tim slides two thick fingers into your dripping core and rubs expertly against your slick walls, you couldn't care less.

"Shit- you're fuckin' soaked." Tim groans as your velvet walls mold to the shape of his girthy digits.

Your spine bows against the corkboard nailed to the wall; it's pinned with a precise diary of information: crime scene photos, newspaper clippings, and various stake-out notes. The small plastic tac heads dig into your skin as Tim sucks your clit into his mouth and vibrates the little button with a deep groan.

Your chest heaves under your blouse as the pleasure steadily mounts. Your hips move on their own, grinding against Tim's stubble and tongue. Brute hands circle your hips, keeping you safe and balanced as your peak draws closer.

He leans back on his heels and stares up at you. His cheeks are flushed a desert pink, and his lips glisten under the dim light as he works you closer and closer to the edge.

"Come on my tongue. Wanna taste you." Tim husks before diving back into your cunt with a feral energy you'd only come to know since being with him.

Your eyes flutter closed as the pleasure envelopes you, drowning all your senses. Had your eyes been open, you would've seen the shadowy figure slink through the door just as you were starting to come.

A heavy wave of arousal coats Tim's tongue as he pushes it further into your drenched hole. He grunts at your taste, greedily drinking you down and licking every creamy drop from your swollen cunt as you bite back the wanton moans that threaten to slip from your lips. 

Tremors rake your body as you catch your breath and come back into your body. The foreign, bitter smell of smoke perks your senses. Your heart slams into your throat as a red ember glows from a dark corner of the room. 

"You put on quite a show, Gatita." A deep voice praises from the black abyss. 

Tim moves lightning fast, spinning on the spot and shielding your body from the unknown figure.

Javier Pena steps into the light. Your co-worker and whose office you now had the pleasure of corrupting. 

He stalks toward his desk with a glint in his eye, pinning you and Tim to the floor as he retrieves a folder that's left on top of a mess of papers.

The men exchange silent words while Javier takes a long drag from his cigarette. Tim relaxes, his broad shoulders slightly sagging once he realizes the threat is neutralized. Javier smirked at your wide eyes while he exhaled a lungful of smoke toward the ceiling.

"You should lock the door next time," Javier suggests as he moves to leave. He hesitates, hand perched on the shiny, brass knob before looking over his shoulder. "Unless you're looking for a third person to join." 

Ozzie’s 11k birthday sleepover