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littlemisspascal · 7 days ago

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Nice and Slow

2.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: Detective Tim Rockford is forced to convalesce after getting shot.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls). Established relationship, reference to injury, f!oral, PiV, fingering, consensual somno (m!oral). Nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby), soft!Tim, but first: grumpy!Tim 😂

A/N: A direct follow-up to Wife Material, though as with all The Rockford Portfolio instalments, can be read standalone. Written for @baronessvonglitter's Noun-iversary Writing Challenge - Adriana assigned me the best inspo pics! Congratulations on your Tumblr anniversary, darling - thank you for always being so supportive of these two, I hope you enjoy this one! 😘😘

Dividers by @saradika-graphics / Series Masterlist

��Shutterbug, if I say something, do you promise not to get mad?”

You cock your eyebrow at Detective Rockford the same way you’ve seen him do a million times – an unspoken invitation to continue without any commitment. You know what he’s going to say anyways.

“You drive really slow.”

“I’m going the speed limit, Tim,” you tut, tone indulgent.

“Exactly,” his sigh comes with no actual bite, faux exasperation a poor cover for your detective’s affection.

“From the way you’ve been protesting this trip, I didn’t think you would be in such hurry to get there,” you tease, chuckling when you see Tim’s sheepish look. Protest is really too mild a description – Tim had kicked up a real fuss is what had happened. You suppose you wouldn’t have been too keen on being told to leave town by your boss either, but you can’t pretend you didn’t feel a sense of relief when Captain Christine Mendoza put her foot down on the matter. It’s been two weeks since Tim was released from the hospital, sent home with doctor’s orders for strict rest and relaxation - told to limit all activity and allow his shoulder injury to heal.

Technically, Detective Rockford had been on department mandated medical leave for those same two weeks - ordered to hand over all his open cases and investigations to colleagues for the duration of his recovery. But after the captain caught Tim in the precinct trying to sneak out case files to work on at home for the third time, she had given you a call - offering her Big Bear Lake cabin along with a suggestion (read: command) that Tim get out of her hair and out of town in order to properly recuperate.

Tim had grumbled loudly about his superior’s orders. He then grumbled again when Detective Calloway came by (also at their captain’s behest) to collect all the rogue policework that had somehow mysteriously ended up spread out on your dining room table. He was still grumbling as he watched you pack only his comfiest clothes for the weeklong sojourn, looking forlornly at his trusty leather holster hanging on your bedpost. And he grumbled the loudest when you prohibited him from driving and instead, retrieved the car that he always grumbles about you maintaining and paying for, even though he’s perfectly happy to drive you everywhere and anywhere you need. He was still grumbling as you punched in the location of the cabin to which he’s being exiled (cue eye roll) into the GPS.

He’s grumbling again now, but you take no offense to it – you actually find Tim’s grumpiness to be endearing, “Well, get used to this speed of things, Detective Rockford. For an entire week, we’re going to be doing things nice and slow, putting your recovery first – no heavy lifting, physical OR mental. That means no policework.”

“I feel like a naughty child who’s been sent to his room.”

“You are. It’s just that the room you’re being sent to is the cabin your captain got in her divorce.”

This gets you a hearty laugh; spirits lifted, Tim takes one of your hands and holds it for the remainder of the drive.

As you predicted, it’s an effort for Tim to settle into the leisurely pace you set for the week.

For the first few mornings, you have to pull him back into bed after his internal alarm clock wakes him shockingly early, forcing Tim to nestle back beneath the covers under the guise of needing your personal furnace to guard against the crisp mountain air. Hooking your leg over his thigh, you slide your freezing hands underneath your man’s sleep shirt and around his massive trunk, ignoring Detective Rockford’s murmured complaints - holding him hostage until his breathing evens and he once again purrs with sleep.

To your delight, it only takes two days for sleeping in to become the norm and your mornings to start lazy, with you blinking awake to Tim still completely dead to the world, handsome face serene and slumbering frame melted deep into the mattress.

Some days, Tim sleeps long enough to allow you to bring him breakfast in bed. The two of you drink coffee and nibble on toast and fruit while curled up in the still warm sheets, chatting about nothing and everything – sometimes putting off clean up in favour of burrowing deeper into your makeshift nest, whiling away the remainder of the morning horizontal, cuddling and reading.

Other mornings, Tim will lumber into the kitchen and sidle up nice and slow behind you, wrapping his good arm around your middle and nuzzling your neck and hair as you finish cooking. Taking the food out onto the cabin porch, you and Detective Rockford wrap yourselves in blankets and enjoy your meal amidst the stilled peace of a sleepy forest.

If the weather allows, you take long nature walks - stretching your legs and filling your lungs with fresh air while breathing in the sweet scent of all-knowing trees. You take a million photos of foliage and occasionally, a furry creature with whom you’re lucky enough to cross paths. Tim is ever patient with your enthusiasm on these hikes, smiling indulgently as you try different angles and lenses and excitedly show him the resulting pictures.

Often, you’ll pack a spread that’s perfect for picnicking at any number of warm spots near the trails. If he can find a comfortable old growth trunk to lean against, you’ll rest between Tim’s legs and lay back into his welcoming chest, the two of you cloud watching or getting lost in your respective books until it’s time to head back.

On the days when you return to the cabin for lunch, the meals you joyfully prepare together are simple and delicious, savoured on the same table where, once cleared, Tim lays you down; your legs dangle over the edge and bracket the detective’s large frame as he sits down at the head of the table for dessert. You spread and hold your legs wide as an offering, surrendering to your fate as Tim eats you out, nice and slow.

Tim’s mouth and tongue take to meandering at a near agonizing pace. There’s no hurry or rush in his welcomed torture of your needy cunty; he licks fat, deliberate swipes through your folds, drawing your arousal onto his tongue - relishing your taste and lapping at your drippy hole so not to miss a single drop. Detective Rockford teases your slit with only the tips of his tongue and fingers, dabbing just deep enough to make you whine and beg for reprieve before withdrawing – not to withhold but so he can worship you with sucking open mouth kisses that make your pussy cry. He devours you with a slow reverence and smirks in satisfaction when you grasp and tug impatiently on his soft curls, murmuring into your heat, “Just doing what I’m told, baby: going nice and slow.” He makes you fall apart over and over on his tongue, lips, fingers, all while penning long and winding love letters to his beloved Shutterbug on your clit as you gush.

With no set routine or schedule to keep, your afternoons arrange themselves stress-free. Dinner might be started early so that it has time to simmer and reduce. You organize and edit your photos. DVDs you borrowed from the library of the BBC’s Poirot series (Tim absolutely refuses to acknowledge the current Kenneth Branagh adaptations) are put into rotation. There is baking, more reading, always cuddles, lots of naps.

Every night after a satiating dinner, you ride your detective nice and slow in front of the fire. The warmth from the flames licks at your naked body, falling and rising while Tim sucks dark purple marks into the soft swells of your breasts. Your orgasms build, gentle and steady, as you do the welcomed work - patience its own virtue; when you finally come, thighs quaking, chest heaving and damp from the exertion, Tim seals his lips to yours in gratitude, drinking in your stuttering moans as the vice grip of your pussy milks him until he’s dry.

There’s a mirror at the foot of the master bed and early on, you and Tim discover that he can sit on the edge comfortably with you in his lap, both facing it. Together, the two of you watch, mesmerized, as you slowly sink down on Tim’s girthy cock – twin mouths agape, panting at the way he splits you open. Tim can’t decide where to look: the hypnotic sway and bounce of your ample tits as you gyrate and bound in his lap; the way your pretty face scrunches in pleasure, glazed over eyes squeezing shut until he commands them to open and return to the lascivious reflection in the glass; the place where you’re joined and how you stretch around him shiny and slick, a bright ring of cream collecting at his base; or perhaps the sheen of your inner thighs as they coat with the same arousal that’s dripping down his balls.

The only time Tim is able to tear his eyes from the pornographic scene playing in slo-mo before him is when you loll your head back against his good shoulder, irresistible lips searching for his, gasping those filthy words that tighten his balls without fail every time: “Fill me up, Detective - please.” His lustful and adoring gaze fixes to yours and the spark from your lips touching ignites a final string of fireworks, the intensity of Tim’s pulsing high setting off your own.

Having been given the go ahead by Tim’s surgeon, you insist on long, warm baths every night. The weight of Tim’s bulk resting between your legs as you lazily wash him brings you a comfort you can hardly explain - like a weighted blanket in human form. Careful to keep his injured shoulder above the waterline, you eye Detective Rockford’s surgical incision warily – willing it with the threat of your ire alone to remain healed and healthy. For its obedience, you flutter soft pecks to the now smoothed wound, kissing away any memory of its former trauma… for you both. You and Detective Rockford soak away your evenings, leaving the tub only when the bathroom steam starts to clear and your bodies feel toasty through and through, your smiles dopey from multiple glasses of wine.

Tim being ordered to sleep on his back for the duration of his recovery has necessitated a change to your usual sleeping positions. Normally, your detective crowds your side, pulling you close and flush to his hard chest as you sleep, but now it’s you who cozies into his space, tucking yourself under his protective wing and needing the reassuring feel of his even breathing beneath your palm in order to fall asleep. You won’t admit it to Tim, but you haven’t been able to sleep through the night since he got shot; something in your subconscious implores you to wake every night, seeking the reassurance of Tim’s presence - needing to confirm that he is indeed next to you, safe and well.

Night after night, you find yourself climbing on top of Tim after you awaken anxious; the relief of seeing him sleeping peacefully giving way to something more urgent and needy. Careful not to disturb your detective unnecessarily, you take him gently in your mouth, not sure what makes you swell with pride more: the way he thickens under the swirl of your tongue, or when you hear Tim’s sleepy baritone growl calling you his good girl.

Tim lets loose a stream of praise as you mount him: feels so good, taking me so well, made for me; rambling promises of all the dirty and rough things he’s going to do to your heavenly body in repayment once his shoulder is strong enough. Like a magpie, he’s drawn to your pert nipples, hard like gemstones and glittering in the silver of the moon’s cold light, begging for his touch – he answers their call, flicking and teasing your aching peaks between his rough fingers until you cry. Tim prays up to you, awed and humbled as you roll and grind your hips over him, nice and slow. The moonlight bathes your soft skin and makes it glow, haloing your pretty face, already blindingly beautiful and so much like home – Tim thinks you must be an angel crafted by celestial hands just for him. He tells you so, over and over, calling you gorgeous and divine, declaring that you feel so perfect, and that he’s so grateful and happy to be yours. Detective Rockford thanks you repeatedly for taking care of him, loving him, worrying for him – he’s heard every soft and fearful gasp when you wake in the dead of night and felt the desperate searching of your hands, the same ones that snake around his midsection and hold him extra tight once you find him.

Overcome, he pledges to always be the man you see in him, one who’s worthy of your attention and love, deserving of the honour of returning those same affections. You sing back your own promises of forever and collapse, euphoric, into Tim’s waiting embrace as he fills you.

By the end of the week, you’re pleased to find Detective Rockford decidedly less grumpy, his shoulder and voice stronger, his spirit settled and at ease, having embraced the quiet life – even if only temporarily.

On the drive home, absent of any complaints from your passenger, you look over at Tim teasingly, “So, Detective, that wasn’t so bad, right? Perhaps you even enjoyed yourself?” At his assenting chuckle, your heart soars – this is all you ever wanted, “I think I rather prefer this nice and slow way of living once in a while. What do you think, Tim – maybe we could do this again?” Detective Rockford brings your hand, the one he’s been holding since you started the car, to his lips and peppers your knuckles with sweet kisses, earnest in his answer, “I would choose any life with you, Shutterbug.”

Some pics from Shutterbug:

I'm still working my way back to being on here FT, so tagging a few people who seemed to have enjoyed last week's Timmy and Shutterbug (thank you!🥹): @milla-frenchy @lillaydee @sunnytuliptime @kulekehe @nandan11

@inept-the-magnificent @aurorawritestoescape @sawymredfox @harriedandharassed @greenwitchfromthewoods

@tuquoquebrute @vie-is-punk @misstokyo7love @angiewatson @tateypots

@ghotifishreads @bluesweaters15

#fic rec

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littlemisspascal · 7 days ago

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finding your place {part one}

Pairing: Din Djarin x F! Reader

Summary: A simple job that seems like a handout, an offhand comment, and suddenly you find yourself the caretaker for a little green child. You don't mind spending your nighttime hours with him but his father on the other hand makes you a little uncomfortable because you feel like a nuisance in his space...

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: reader has female features but nothing overly descriptive, star wars content that may or may not be canon, domestic setting, pining, reader thinks din is intimidating, perceived silent treatment, din is awkward but it comes off as rude (cause he's just like that lol), more to be added but this is pretty tame

A/N: just a little idea that popped into my head and held me hostage until i jotted it down

ao3 link || navigation || ko-fi

It starts with a favor from Karga. Greef Karga, the High Magistrate of the world you’ve found yourself settling on. You’re just a simple maintenance worker in the building he occupies for work. He preferred droids but decided to either take a chance on you or take pity on you to keep his office neat and tidy during the day, fetching things he may need from around the city and sitting in to take notes on meetings and comm calls. It’s an easy job, though taxing in its own ways.

A fussy green child who needs a bit of help calming down, a light weight in your arms as you sit and hold him. He’s not outright crying but he’s making a lot of sounds that tug on your heartstrings. You’ve never met the little guy before but he’s clinging to you like he’s comfortable, pressing his little button nose into your shoulder and his ears wiggle in little flaps.

Karga flitted around in his pretty robes, the fabric hushing quietly as he does so until it was time for lunch. Dismissed for the hour with a wave of his hand, you’re now wandering around the stalls that offer so much to choose from in the city center. The streets are lined, packed, a little loud but you walk smoothly through the crowd of people with the enamored bundle in your arms.

Everything is under control, the exchange of credits for a good spread of snacks and a bright blue shake of milk and fruit with jelly like orbs at the bottom bring out happy coos and babbles from the child as you settle on the concrete circling around a large tree. The shade allows for some relief from the high sun, the brightness shining down with no regard for your poor eyes.

After inhaling the food you purchased, the hour is nearly up. You’re about to scale the stairs that lead up to the building’s entrance when a modulated voice startles you.

“You don’t even know his name.” Looking over you see none other than the silver Mandalorian you’ve glimpsed around the city. Karga’s mentioned him a few times, citing the city’s ability to turn a new leave in part to the man. You’ve also filed the paperwork to start a credit deposit for him, though you weren’t sure what his new role would be just yet.

His presence feels intense, a silent threat if his words were any indication- aimed at you with an edge to them. Something accusatory even if you had no idea why he approaching you now of all times. You kept to yourself, never stepping out of line in regards to the law or at work, and now as you’re doing Karga a favor outside of your normal activities is when he decided to approach you.

“Uh, no, sir, I don’t,” Your fingers tighten around the child, holding him closer to your chest as he continues to sleep soundly. His belly full and his heart happy from the outing. “I really should get back inside, my boss is probably waiting for me and this little guy needs to-”

“I’ll take him.” The Mandalorian pushes off from where he was leaning against the column that makes up part of the stairs. The sun shines brightly off his armor, the silver of the beskar mesmerizing and intimidating all at once. Regardless, you feel protective over the bundle in your arms and not just for the sake of your continued employment.

“No offense, but I don’t know who you are and I’ve been instructed to look after him.”

“Shouldn’t have been.” His gloved hands move to his waist, the stance making you feel like you were about to be lectured.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes narrow, not liking the underlying accusation in his monotone words. You weren’t one to rise to threats or push conversations into anything beyond what they are, but you feel anger rise in your chest- tight and hot as you realize he has a problem with you.

But the armored man doesn’t say anything further, he just walks away and up into the building, leaving you standing there feeling a little more than confused and annoyed at the exchange.

“Ah, you’re back!” Karga greet loudly as you scan your badge to enter his office. He’s seated behind his desk, the Mandalorian from outside in one of the two chairs on the other side of it. “As I was saying, I put my assistant here in charge of looking after him and judging by the way she’s managed to calm him down- all is well, Mando.”

“She took him outside of the building.”

“Did she now?” Karga doesn’t seem to feel the same way as the man, the Mandalorian currently staring you down, his dark visor pinned on you as you move to set the sleeping child in the pod he arrived in.

“Just to get some food, it was my lunch break.” You don’t bother explaining to the severe man that it was an unpaid break and that you didn’t have to continue looking after the child but that you hadn’t minded spending more time with him nor spending your hard earned credits to get him something to eat. It wouldn’t matter, it seems you’re already on his list of people he doesn’t like.

“Someone could’ve taken him from her.”

“Nonsense, she’s trained!” Karga looks you over with a thoughtful arch to his brow. “Right?”

The scoff that comes through the modulator is harsh.

“I left him to you- not the school and not to her. To you.” The Mandalorian points an accusatory finger at the magistrate, who merely waves it off.

“Well, seeing as this is between the two of you,” You adjust your tunic and reach for the toolbox you left in the office earlier. “I’ll get back to adjusting the coding for the lower floors- figure out why some clearance badges were working, and some weren’t earlier this morning.”

“You’ve got to loosen up, Mando.” Is the last thing you hear before the doors close behind you and you go back to your day as if nothing happened. Except, the more problems you run into with the coding the more annoyed you feel and the more lectured you feel for simply following the command of your boss by looking over the child for the first half of your day.

You understand being protective, you get being cautious, but you were trained and more than capable of watching over the child. You might not have armor, let alone Mandalorian armor, or a plethora of weapons but you had a vibro blade and a blaster. More than enough to stand your ground in case someone approached you or tried something.

Once the coding is fixed, you make your way down to the ground floor. Just as you’re pressing your own badge against the sensor to a room off of the main entrance, a loud cheer has you whipping around. Securely in his pod, the kid is practically bouncing in place and holding his hands out to you as it shifts direction toward you. Sighing, the armored man follows behind until they’re both in front of you.

You wave hesitantly at the kid, eyes flitting up to the visor you feel trained on you, the man’s gaze heavy from behind the helmet.

“He likes you.” Is what he says to break the silence.

“I fed him, that’s all it is.” You wave a hand to dismiss their attention, not wanting to chance angering the man further.

“Karga said he was wailing for an hour until you calmed him down.”

“In my defense, Karga tried his best for most of that hour. He calmed down after I started humming to him.” It was simple really, a cradle to your chest, a little bit of bouncing, a little bit of humming, and then he was as calm as could be.

“You’re good with him. He likes you.”

“Um, okay. Well, I’ve got more work to get done,” You jut a thumb over your shoulder towards the door you were about to disappear through. Unsure of what to make of this exchange but wanted it to end all the same.

“You work here full time?”

“Excuse me?”

“You…have evenings free?” Your brows rise at the phrasing, unsure of where he was going with the line of questioning.

“Uh, yeah mostly.”

“You enjoy this work? With Karga?”

“It’s work, but mostly.” Your eyes bounce from him to the child still vying for your attention, so you reach out a hand and his little claw latches on tight. He uses it as purchase to start climbing out of his pod. Both of you reach for him at the same time, gloved hands brushing yours as the child continues to move toward you and into your arms. Your heart rachets up as the man steps closer, clearly within your personal space.

His visor trained on you, the even way he’s breathing, all of it makes you feel dizzy and a little overwhelmed. But the child in your arms doesn’t seem to care about his overly protective father, as he reaches up to pat his little palm against your cheek and giggles loudly.

“Ba-ba-ba!” His little voice gets louder and louder as you blow air into your cheeks to inflate them, the sound his palm makes changing and pulling a squeal from him. Neither of you flinch at the high pitch, but you do feel your heart stutter in your chest.

“I…have to be gone for a couple nights, to do some work for Karga.”

“Um…okay?” Your eyes don’t leave the happy face of the squirming kid, the visor is a little intimidating, a little mysterious, and a little attractive with how its framed on the helmet.

“Grogu…would be in good hands if you were to watch him.” A babble, a pat of his palm and the air thickens around you both.

You don’t respond right away, waiting for the man to expand on what he means. A little cruel perhaps, with your growing knowledge of him being a man of few words but you can’t bring yourself to care. He’s been…an odd one to interact with and you aren’t sure how to respond anyway.

“I have a house, out on the flats. There is a spare room. I….would pay you and supply a food stipend.” You glance up at him, the wall of armor he makes. He seems genuine in his roundabout proposal, Karga trusts him, he’s obviously protective over his son. You soften at the offer to spend more time with the kid, to have something to do with your nights other than going home to an empty apartment.

“To watch Grogu.” At the sound of his name coming from you, Grogu laughs and claps his hands together.

“Yes.”

“I, uh…yeah, yes. Okay, how does that sound to you, huh?” You bring a hand up to boop his button nose and he delights in the action. He reaches for your own nose and you lean down a little for him to reach it. When he makes to mirror your action, you open your mouth and pretend to nibble on his reaching fingers.

“You trust me?”

“Karga said I could.” He intones, though it sounds more like something he feels needs to be said rather than what he really wants to say. But you can gauge the minimal truth in his words, Karga does trust you and you know he would defend you against the Mandalorian’s concerns and questions.

“Okay, um, what do…I call you?” You place Grogu back into his pod and boop his nose once more before you reach into your pocket and hand him the last of the cookies from lunch. A few of them, nothing too crazy. He greedily shovels one in his mouth as he settles into the blanket around him.

“Mando is fine.”

“It’s not…diminutive?” You step to the side, needing more breathing air than was allowed with how close he was. From those first steps to potentially catch Grogu when he rushed toward you.

“Everyone calls me that.” He says it like it doesn’t bother him, like it doesn’t matter what people refer to him as, so long as it isn’t his given name. But you wonder all the same, what it might be.

“…okay. Um, well, I have to finish making new badges for the staff.” You brandish your own badge at him, your name displayed on it. Your comm link code is printed neatly on it as well and you watch him punch it into the cuff over his wrist.

“Come over tomorrow after work and I’ll show you around the place.”

“Sounds good, see you then.” You wiggle your fingers at Grogu before scanning your badge and walking into the maintenance office. You feel his gaze follow you until the door shuts completely. You wait with bated breath until you hear his steps continue through the entranceway and out the front doors before you lean forward to rest your hands on your desk and hang your head between them.

Huffing out, you can’t help the slightly hysterical laugh that filters past your lungs.

What the hell have you just gotten yourself into? Grogu you could handle, but Mando, you have no idea how to interact with the wall of armor that doesn’t seem to like you but was told he could trust you with his son.

taglist: @mandaloriankait @sawymredfox @copperhalfcent @mosssbawls @jessthebaker @evolnoomym @saradika @djarins-cyare @grogusmum @furiousmushroom

dividers and banners by the lovely @cafekitsune and @saradika-graphics

#fic rec #oooo very excited about this!

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littlemisspascal · 7 days ago

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Recs | May 25

May readings 💛

Please, rb the fics you appreciated, that's how they live 💛🙏

Check the warnings before reading, some of the fics are very dark

Joel Miller

You know you never stood a chance bonus: march 2nd @corazondebeskar-reads

fix it fic. straight up. i promised the Event would never come to pass in this verse and this is me cementing that. takes place after "hold on easy."

Quiet in the woods @baronessvonglitter

You've mouthed off to Joel one too many times. He finds a way to shut you up and release some frustration

Behind closed doors @baronessvonglitter

Your husband comes home early and walks in on you with his best friend - Joel Miller

Quiet time @toxicanonymity (raider!Joel)

A drink or... @bergamote-catsandbooks

Mama's boy @toxicanonymity (slasher!Joel)

Dinner at his mom's house, mostly

The need @aurorawritestoescape

Joel gets you ready to take him

Bad doctor | Bad doctor pov @toxicanonymity

Rainy nights @iamasaddie

Punish me @itwasntimethatdidit40

What happens when your boss punishes you but you like it too much? You look for more. And more

Let me do it again @pedge-page

Lincoln pwp pie @toxicanonymity

Possessive hubby @pedge-page

Spread open @toxicanonymity

You come for a pelvic exam, and Dr. Miller gives you what you want

Joel Miller and Tommy Miller

Cheetah print part 1 | part 2 @toxicanonymity

Tommy hears you're going to the beach. Joel finds you there and gets you into his beach tent

Uncle Tommy's mistake @tateypots

Tommy's plans for you go awry

Frankie Morales

Begin again @sawymredfox

The night looks beyond repair, or perhaps not

Coraline @tateypots

Guapo @sawymredfox

You help Frankie discover something about him

Din Djarin

Din drabble @sawymredfox

Dieter Bravo

I think of you all the time | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 @schnarfer

Best friends to lovers, to worse

Marcus Moreno

So it goes @sizzlingcloudmentality

You meet Marcus in a bar and he's a hot flirt

Clint Flood

After hours @jolapeno

Clint had no idea a video store would change his life, again. Now he’s in too deep, wrapped around a woman who sees through the scars—and waits for him in a motel room

Lucien De Leon

The wedding crasher @baronessvonglitter

Crashing your ex's wedding reception lands you in hot water with his dad Lucien

Javier Peña

Fits, perfect @jolapeno

You never know who you'll bump into at an outdoor movie night

Let me cheer you up @tateypots

Javi finds himself stranded at the B&B after (controversially) missing out on a position there

Dave York

Life's a beach @tateypots

Dave fucks you on the beach

Threesome

Paying off the debt @baronessvonglitter (Clint x fem reader x Joel)

When your husband doesn't pay his debt, the two men coming to collect decide on a different form of payment

Lucky you @aurorawritestoescape (Joel x fem reader x Clint)

A usual evening with your boyfriend Clint and his best friend Joel turns into a night full of lust and ecstasy - Or - Clint and Joel go down on you

Tommy Miller

Stick to me (like caramel) @tommysversion

After the abrupt end of his marriage, he goes in search of comfort to drown his feelings. And after years of ignoring the tension between you? That seems like a good place to start.

A taste of you @aurorawritestoescape

Tommy can’t keep his mouth off you

Other characters

Fog lake @toxicanonymity (Brahms Heelshire x f!reader)

You left your life for a secluded cabin, then it began to feel like you weren't alone...

My writing

Harry (Harry Castillo x fem reader)

you meet the perfect guy, and things become intimate

Trapped (Joel Miller x fem reader x Tommy Miller)

written with @aurorawritestoescape

You run out of gas in the middle of nowhere at night. A stranger comes to help

Fics recs

Please tell me if I forgot yours in this post 🙏

#fic rec

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