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covetyou · 2 months

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some good friend - pt. 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You got any news for me?"

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

"Please."

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

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

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

"Well, I heard that..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it made him nervous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Come now. Let me see."

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

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

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

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

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

"You still want this?"

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

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

"Then get these off too, Detective."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"...Yes ma'am."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck."

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

"Remember how this feels?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you trust me, Detective?"

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

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

"Humor me."

"Of course I do."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No. You shouldn't. Stay."

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

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

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

"Some friend to have."

"A good friend to have, Tim.”

“- I didn't mean - I meant me, I -”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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londonspirit · 1 year

Video

youtube

just to have them all in one place

#pedro pascal #tim rockford #detective tim rockford #merge mansion game #merge mansion game ad #videos #game ad #game commercial

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absurdthirst · 1 year

Text

Cracking the Case {Tim Rockford x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Flirting, mentions of crime scene photos, misuse of handcuffs, bondage, rough sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie

Comments: Staying late with your boss, Detective Tim Rockford, turns into some sexy times at his desk, making him crack the case while he's buried inside you.

A/N: Did we write a fic about a damn Merge Mansion commercial? Yes we did. Do we have any regrets? Not a damn one! 🤡🤡🤡 Based off how sexy that damn stupid game commercial is and this NSFW GIF.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Tim Rockford MasterList ||

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

He’s been at his desk all day, gun holster still on his shoulders and you bite your lip, eying the cups lined up on his desk. “Tim.” You say and he barely tears his eyes away from the photos he’s been studying on his desk. “Tim.” You repeat, knowing he will be there all night if left to his own devices.

“Yes?” He asks, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the photo of the fatal wound to look into your concerned eyes.

“You need to eat.” You huff, knowing you could use something too but your boss has spent three days studying the evidence, sleeping in the office and maybe managing to drag himself back to his apartment for a quick shower. “I’ll get you something.” You stand up, making your way out of the police department to head down to the 24 hour diner you frequent when his case keeps you both tethered to work.

Tossing his pen down, Tim rocks back in his chair and sighs, closing his eyes as he presses the pads of his fingers to them. Staring at the crime scene photos for so long that he feels like they are blurring together. He’s missing something, he can feel it. It’s right in front of him but he just seem can’t find it. It’s times like these that he longs for the days where a bottle of bourbon is in the bottom cabinet of his desk drawer and a pack of Marlboro Reds sit right next to his hand. He’s given that up, trying to be the ‘new image’ of the police force but it’s damn hard when you’re trying to solve a case like this. The chair creaks as he rocks back, finally aware of the growling in his stomach that you’ve insisted on taking care of for him. He’d be lost without you.

You return with the food, a burger and fries for Tim, knowing he will be annoyed if you get him something healthier and you just want him to eat something and not just chain smoke until the light bulb goes off. He’s got his face in his hands and you set the take out bag down. “Betty says hello.” You tease, knowing he is aware of the older waitress having a crush on the ‘hunky police detective’. “She even threw in a slice of apple pie for you.”

Tim snorts and shakes his head, reaching for the bag. “Someday soon I’m gonna have to go back in there and flirt with her a bit.” He tells you, knowing that the woman is probably ten years too old for him, but he shoots you a grin. “Keep the pie slices rollin’.” The mouthwatering scent of the hot burger makes him groan as he opens the styrofoam contain and he looks at you. “You not get anything for yourself? Or you plannin’ on going home?” He wouldn’t blame you if you did leave, it’s far past the hours that you were expected to answer the phones, the Desk Sergeant already taking over for the night. You aren’t a police officer, but as the department’s secretary, you were a damn vital part of keeping this place running.

He takes a bite of the burger and you hold up your own bag, “figured I’d get something to eat before I head home. Keep you company before you retreat into your mind again.” You tease and sit down on the other side of his desk, gathering up the photos and keeping them in order so he can concentrate on his food. “I know you want to solve this case but punishing yourself by not eating and sleeping won’t get you any closer to solving this.” You warn him, having watched him and the others try to be superhuman and it always leads to mistakes. “You should go home, eat, shower, get laid. Will help you take your mind off of the case and you’ll come in with a fresh perspective.”

Tim scoffs as he picks up a fry and bites into it. “Gotta go out to get laid unless I call up some of the working girls.” He jokes. “And the captain would have my ass if I got busted by vice like Johnson did a few months ago.” Tim was a bachelor, probably always would be one after his fiancée jilted him a few months before the wedding years ago. Claiming that he worked too much and didn’t spend enough time with her. It was probably true, so he hadn’t really tried after that, figuring it just wasn’t in the cards for him.

“You could easily go out and get laid. You’re a handsome guy. Smart, funny. Just flash the handcuffs and say you know how to use them.” You home and bite into your own sandwich, watching him chew with satisfaction that he’s eating. “Too bad you’re always in this damn office. You’d be popular at the bar down the street from me. Lot of girls like a cop with handcuffs.”

His brow arches up at your comment, wondering briefly if you were one of those girls before he tries to push the thought away. You are off limits. Plenty of detectives had tried it with you only to be shot down and he enjoys the rapport you have, not willing to risk it. “Lots of girls, huh?” He asks, taking another bite of his burger. “Too bad I’m chained to my desk.”

You chuckle, “some women would like that.” You joke and continue eating. The silence is comforting, both of you enjoying a hard earned meal after a long day of trying to solve this case. You watch him as he eats, mustache getting a little wild after concentrating on this case and his hair all over the place yet he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. His dark eyes meet yours and you smile, setting your sandwich down. “You know…I’m one of those girls…who like a man with handcuffs.”

Tim’s brow shoots up and for a moment he’s speechless. Clearing his throat for a moment and nearly choking on his own spit. “I- you are?” His cock twitches in his pants as he imagines putting his cuffs on you. Bending you over and pressing you up against this desk as you moan softly.

You bite your lip, enjoying the clueless look on his face like you haven’t been subtly flirting with him for God knows how long. The lines on his forehead become more pronounced and you decide to take the risk. You can’t keep imagining him between your thighs every night while you rub your clit. This is either going to be the best or worst decision of your life. You push your sandwich aside and stand up, walking around the desk until you’re beside him, and you look into those dark eyes, wide with shock, while you slowly pull your skirt up and over your hips to expose your panties. “Yes. I am.” You say softly, voice taking on a seductive lilt.

“Shit.” The way his eyes shift between your exposed panties and your face would be comical if he wasn’t trying to make sure you aren’t teasing him. His mouth runs dry and Tim quickly stands, abandoning his meal to press close to you. “Are you- fuck, are you sure?” He demands, needing to hear you say the words.

You chuckle nervously, reaching up tentatively to wrap your arms around his neck so you can press closer to him. “Yes baby. I am sure. I want you to fuck me. Always have. Since the day I started working here.” You confess, keeping your eyes on his.

Tim hisses, unable to believe this is happening and he lunges forward to press his lips to yours. Blindly striking out behind you at his desk to clear a space for you to sit while he frantically slides his tongue into your mouth. Needy and desperate for you, it’s been so long since he’s touched a woman and he’s often thought of you with his hand around his cock in the shower.

You moan into his mouth, pulling him even closer as his hands slide down to squeeze your ass. You can feel the pent up need inside of him, similar to your own, and you whimper into his mouth while his tongue slides against yours. “Fuck Tim.” You pant, tilting your head when he kisses down your neck and presses you up against his desk so you can feel his hardening cock.

“Yeah?” He groans against your flesh and sucks at your pulse. His hands sliding down your thighs, squeezing them and then he presses two fingers against your clothed clit. “You want me to use my cuffs on you?” He asks as he rubs the damp fabric. “Or just turn you around and fuck you?”

“Oh God. Cuffs. Please use the cuffs.” You beg, having imagined it too many times. “Please baby. I- I just need you to touch me.” You reach down to squeeze him through his dress pants, wanting to make him moan.

His hands reluctantly pull away, fumbling behind his back to pull his cuffs out of the small pouch he has on his belt. Grabbing your wrist to slap the cold steel around it as he pushes your arm behind your back. “Jesus Christ baby, you drive me insane.” He groans, eager to give you what you want.

You gasp at the cold metal encircling your wrists and you love the way he bends you over his desk once you are cuffed up. “Tim.” You whine when he grinds against you, making your cunt clench around nothing. “Please baby. I need you to fuck me.” You beg, aching for him after so long of wondering what it would be like.

Chuckling, Tim kisses you again, “I’m going to baby, I promise.” His fingers find the edge of your panties and he starts to strip them down your thighs. Dropping them at your feet on top of your heels. “Step out of them and turn around. Spread your legs.” He orders roughly.

You struggle but manage to kick the panties off of your shoes, letting them land wherever, and you spin around, spreading your legs for the handsome detective. “Fuck me. Please.” You aren’t above begging, wanting your dreams to come true.

There’s so much he would do to you if he wasn’t in his office. Surrounded by the case details and photos, sure that someone could walk in. That makes it even thrilling, even though the lights are off outside and most everyone else has gone home. He reaches out and slaps your ass as he unbuckles his belt with one hand. “Fuck, your gagging for it, aren’t you? Bet you're soaking wet, eager for my cock.”

God, hearing him speak like that, husky and deep, has you dripping. “Ye-yes Detective. I- I want your cock. Please. I need you.” You pant, not above begging at this point. You feel his cock push against your ass cheek and you gasp, unable to believe how big he feels. “Fuck, Tim.” You whine, grinding back against him, fingers flexing behind your back.

He decides that he’s not going to spit in his hand, wanting it to sting a bit as he stretches you out. Needing a good fuck to smooth his rough edges and maybe help him focus on the case. Taking his cock in hand, he nudges along your slit, feeling how wet you are. “Dirty fucking girl, you’re soaked.” He groans. “Let’s see how well you take my cock.” He nestles the head against your entrance and snaps his hips forward, pinning you to the desk as he drives his cock deep.

You collapse forward, head coming down to rest near the take out bag and your mouth falls open into a moan as he pushes deep inside of you. He’s thick, stretching you out, and your nails dig into your palms, unable to believe how good he feels already. “Oh fuck.” You choke, eyes squeezed shut as his hands grip your hips.

Once he’s buried to the hilt, it’s like a switch has been flipped. Clenching his jaw, Tim draws his hips back to start a frantic, devastating pace. Nearly immediately breathless from how hard he is pounding into you, groaning and grunting as he feels your soaked walls clench around him.

“Shit! Shit!” You cry out, breath knocked out of you from his harsh pace, making you moan his name, and you can’t do anything but let him fuck you, use your body for his own pleasure. “Baby. Oh fuck, Tim. Yes. Yes!” You moan.

“Quiet.” He hisses, not slowing down. “Can-can’t let everyone hear how- how much of a dirty girl you are.” He groans, closing his eyes and enjoying the squelch of your cunt as he drills into you. Slippery and hot, perfect for him. “Fuck, baby. It’s- it’s like heaven.” He groans, opening his eyes and his gaze falls on the strewn photos on his desk.

You don’t know he’s eying the photos on his desk as he pounds into you. You love how his hands come to grip your handcuffed wrists, using you as leverage to push harder and deeper. “So good.” You whimper, “so fucking good, sir.” You are used to addressing him as sir or detective and that slips into your dirty little fantasies.

“Shit.” Tim’s eyes widen and his pace stutters for a moment and the pieces click together. “That’s it.” He groans, gripping your hips tighter and pushing into you faster as he realizes he’s just solved the case. “Fuck that’s it!”

You don’t realize he’s just solved the case, you think he’s close to cumming and you’re a little disappointed that you aren’t going to cum but it’s still been nice to have him inside of you. “I’m on birth control. You can cum inside of me.” You sigh, closing your eyes and waiting for the warmth of his seed to fill you up.

Tim growls, flattening himself against your back and slides his hand around your hip to find your clit. “Fucking hell,” he moans into your ear. “Gonna- fuck, gonna fill you up. So fucking perfect.” He pants. “Helped me solve the case, fucking solved it buried in your cunt.” He presses two fingers to your clit and rubs frantically, wanting you to cum on his cock.

Your eyes open in shock and you grin, glad he’s solved the case. “Gl-glad I could help.” You chuckle breathlessly before you moan when his fingers rub your clit. Hard and fast as he pushes deep inside of you. “Oh fuck.” You pant, loving the way he kisses along your neck. “Shit. Tim. I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum.” You whine, walls fluttering around his cock and he pushes towards your orgasm. You cry out a few thrusts later, clamping down on his length and soaking him as your mouth opens in a silent scream.

He feels it. The hot, wet gush of your cunt right before you tighten so much that he moans. The grip on his cock almost makes him unable to move as he grinds deep. He’s right behind you, poised on the edge and burying his cock deep, moaning your name as he fills you with hot spurts of his seed. Painting your walls as he chants your name breathlessly.

You pant, relaxing on his desk as your body buzzes with the aftermath of your orgasm. You feel giddy and you smile against the surface of his desk as he leans over you, catching his breath. “I was not expecting that to happen today.” You chuckle, knees wobbly and you’re grateful you’re on his desk.

Tim huffs in agreement, pulling out of you gently so he can watch your cunt flutter and try to push out his cum. “Didn’t expect to solve the case while fucking you.” He jokes, caressing your hip before he grabs the photos that had caught his eye.

“Glad I could help. You wanna finish your dinner and then you can call it in?” You suggest, looking over your shoulder at him. He nods and you watch him eye the photo that has helped him solve the case. “Could you uncuff me first, babe?” You joke, wiggling your fingers.

“Right. Shit.” Tim hisses, immediately dropping the photos and pulling up his pants that have dropped to mid thigh so he can pull his keys out. “Sorry.” He huffs, quickly unlocking the cuffs and taking them off of you, gently massaging your wrists for a second before he lets go of you and steps to the side.

You groan softly as you stand up straight, grabbing the napkins from the diner to clean yourself up before his cum drips onto the floor. Once you’re cleaned up as much as possible, you shove the napkins into the empty take out bag and find your panties to put them on, adjusting your skirt. “Glad you solved the case.” You kiss his cheek and shift to step away from his desk.

Tim stares at the pictures in amazement, unable to believe that he had missed this. It’s so obvious now. He shoves a hand through his hair and mumbles, “thanks,” as he thinks about the way to present this to the DA. You shuffle off to the side and it jars him out of his thinking. “Hey-“ he clears his throat. “You wanna get a drink?” He asks, suddenly awkward even if he had just railed you over his desk. “I mean, like a date?”

You offer him a soft smile, stepping closer so you can kiss his cheek. “Yeah. I’d like that.” You say and step back. “Go solve the case and be the best detective on the force and then we can go get that drink.” You promise, reaching down to squeeze his hand.

Tim smiles at you, nodding quickly. “Give me ten minutes and then we’ll talk about what we can do in the interrogation room over a drink.” He winks and quickly buttons up his pants so he can grab the phone to call the DA and get an arrest warrant issued. He managed to solve the case after all, all thanks to you. Maybe he needed to fuck you during every case from now on, just to make sure justice is served.

#pedro pascal #merge mansion #tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford smut #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford imagine #tim rockford fanfiction #tim rockford fanfic #tim rockford merge mansion #did we write a fic based on a game commercial? yes we did #no shame #detective tim rockford can slap cuffs on me anytime

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ladamedusoif · 5 months

Text

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.”

#a merry fic-mas #holiday fic calendar #tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x f!reader #tim rockford smut #detective tim rockford #merge mansion #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal

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stealyourblorbos · 1 year

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Sweet, tart and very easy... key lime pie from Black Days Headcanons by the wonderful @something-tofightfor ♡ thank you for the inspiration!

More detective Tim art here and here

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanart #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #merge mansion #Tim Rockford #detective tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford x you #tim rockford x female reader #Fanart #digital painting #fanart by poison

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call-me-cosmic · 1 year

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In honor of Pedro’s newest (and perhaps greatest) role as Tim Rockford from the Merge Mansion mobile game. What a time to be alive.

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popcornforone · 1 year

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Thinking

A Soft Detective Tim Rockford Fic

We got newish Rockford this week but I was already writing this & was like well let’s share this with everyone.

How can some short little adverts make us all crazy for this man, but especially this moment. The number of people who go weak just for this (me included) is crazy. So I wanted to write about how it makes us all feel.

Synopsis: Morning meeting at the police station are changed forever when Detective Rockford wits a few seats away from you.

Word count 1.7k

Warnings: not many at all there’s no smut here. We mention what the reader would like Tim to do to them, but there’s a lot of pineing, flirting & unrequited love, sex is mentioned & a small amount of swearing but nothing to much. a little bit of jealousy & angst but it’s not over the top. I just want to talk about that hand around his neck that’s all.

All comments & feedback are welcome, thanks for the read peoples. Enjoy

Meetings are the worst & best part of your day as a police officer. There’s no lying about it or denying it anymore to yourself, it is now what you expect. Dread & anticipation.

It’s the worst because your alarm goes off at 5:30am. It’s the worst because as someone who’s currently working traffic, your job doesn’t change. You fly up & down the main roads & motorways catching uninsured or dangerous drivers. Everyone’s got an excuse as to why they were doing 85 in a 70 speed limit. You’ve heard them all before. You are the best behind the wheel, & not only do you know it but so does everyone else when you see them. Your partner gets to question the drivers but your get to chase after them.

Meetings are bad due to the fact that unless there’s a sting or traffic control you’re not needed. Everytime you work the core hours of 8:30 to 6:00 you know the first 30mins of your day is a waste of time. You could have had the extra half hour asleep or eaten a better breakfast but you don’t.

But there is a reason why you do all this. Why you check the next days rota before you leave, why you get up & do your hair & make up at 5:30am when an alarm could go off at 6am & you’d be here in plenty of time. It’s to look at something, some one. It’s to look at Detective Tim Rockford. The man of your dreams, the man who melts your soul & the man who probably has no idea you exists but every moment you are in his presence, it make you want him to just once, shoot a soft smile your way.

You’d not noticed this until 10 weeks ago. You’d sat at a desk in the meeting room ready to hear what will happen for the next day. It’s 2 rows from the back & furthest to the left. Perfect place to sit to not pay attention. You’d got there early by accident, traffic had ironically been in your favour for once. So you grab the desk for you & your traffic partner Winslow to sit at. About 8minutes later another officer walks in & sees you at the desk & frowns, you are unsure why you’ve never spoken to her before let alone given her a reason to seethe at you. The room then fills up over the next few minutes & the last person who arrives just as the agendas are read out is none other than Tim. He always walks in late, he is extremely busy but you’re pretty sure it’s an ego thing. He sits 2 desks in front of you after he asses who’s in the room & sits down. He’s perfectly in line with the gap Between the two people in front.

Tim then does the thing, his over thinking tick, or as what most of the room sees is just his hand touching his neck. But it’s not to you & about 3 other women in the room & you have no idea why your are transfixed by this slight head roll & his hand scrape around his neck. But in that moment there is nothing you would not do for Tim, you would move heaven & earth for him. For just a smile or a slide glance. It’s not even looking at his big puppy dog eyes that the world is obsessed with (& by world you mean 80% of tv stations). Everyone wants a brief moment of the detectives time.

& that was 10 weeks ago. Winslow knows you like him & keeps saying to you, just go introduce yourself, just say hi just sit at that desk. But you won’t. The mystique around him & this move of his hand, is now apart of your morning routine & Winslow knows one look at that hand & his neck makes you more awake & alert than any coffee. He’s your fix & drug & it’s what you need to see to get you through the day.

So there you sit at 8:15 chatting to Winslow about what films we both watched last night. “If you were in a film by now you & Tim would have had a meet cute” “ha” you laugh “nah I’d be the random best friend who gets to talk wisdom to the main character who gets to talk to the man once but not enough for you to care about” “oooh no girl you’ve got to be the main character in the story of your life.” “Who’s not the main character in their life?” & you freeze. Tim sits down in the chair in the row in front of you. Your face probably looks like it’s in sheer panic because that’s how you feel right now, completely panicked. “Oooh we were just talking what movies we have watched recently”Winslow answers when you don’t as they kick you under the table to snap out of your trance.

“You okay?” Tim says & says your name with a small smile. A smile that makes you go weak, the smile you’ve always wanted to see. His dark caramel eyes under his glasses shinning as pools of delight. His holster making him even broader that he looks from behind. He is the epitome of handsome & he is perfect. The perfect man. & he’s speaking to you, giving you some time. “Sorry” you say “I have a lot on my mind a the moment” you think he’s noticed that yours looking at him. “I’m always here if you want..” he starts but then in comes the chief to discus what’s happened over night & Tim removes his glasses casually & turns around to face the front.

When he does the thinking hand thing, millimetres away from you about 10 mins in, it’s even better than 2 rows away. The neck on those broad shoulders just rolling to wake him up. If you leaned in more maybe you could hear it creek. All those crooks perfect for nuzzling your head in after having sex. His after shave waving past your nose. So musky & rich & spicy just like him. But it’s all about the hand. Forget the whispy hair that you’d love to run your hands through. It’s all about that hand. So large, such s span in width with long delicate fingers. It grasps as it curls around his neck. Nails that are pristine, knuckles ready to be kissed. It’s literally a 3 second move the roll of the neck & the hand wrapping round it while he thinks but it’s exactly what you need. You do a soft gasp when he does it the second time today & hope he didn’t hear you be effected by the most perfect hand in the world.

Tim doesn’t even acknowledge you as he leaves, he grabs his mug & he heads back to his department & Winslow once the detective has left says “well was it worth it, for the moment to be that close?” You friendly slap him, “that was insane nothing is ever going to best that, we don’t have to make sure we get this chair again now for these meeting, that was perfect” Winslow smile at you & we both grab our notes & leave. You’re on a Rockford high all morning, you even let the person whose insurance expired this morning, off with a fine when they said their insurance started tomorrow.

You get back to your desk & there’s a post it note there which just says coffee? Starbucks 2pm? You look around to see who might have left the note, but you have no idea at all. Could this be a proper meeting or is it a friend or a message not taken down properly. But you don’t care & someone wants to buy you decent coffee at 2pm. You grab your jacket & clock out for your hours lunch & head to the Starbucks. You’re shocked when you get there & Tim is standing at the counter with two coffees. “Your here” he says excitedly & you’re shocked that it’s him & that he’s excited to see you as well “& miss out on free coffee? never” you smirk & you take my coffee from him.

He does the hand thing with his neck while facing you standing at the counter, his face looking all shy before those eyes flutter at you looking so innocent & full of love, soft but also seductive. You gasp & then his smile creeps in across his face. “That’s what I’ve been thinking about for the last 10 weeks” he says & he blushes.”what Tim?” You blush as you reply “what is it?” “That gasp I’ve had dreams of hearing that, it’s all my mind can think about” & you’re taken aback. The man you think about each night has been dreaming of you to.

“I’ve just been to shy to turn around until today when I arrived on time, I’m so glad that i did.” Tim offers you his hand “this hands all I’ve been thinking about Tim” you finally admit & you hold it. A rush of emotions coming to the surface for both of us. “Maybe we should sit down for a while & talk about being shy & over thinking together” Tim says & gives you a small peck on the cheek, “& maybe I can then think up the courage to ask you on an actual date.” Tim concludes & the two of you sit on the sofa in silence just drinking coffee & smiling at each other waiting for the other to own & not over think anymore & start up a proper conversation which might lead to more than gasps.

Chapter 2

#fanfic #my fics #minifics #no minors #pedro pascal #fluff #tim rockford #detective tim rockford #tim rockford fanfic #tim rockford fan fiction #pedro pascal cinematic universe #pedro pascal fanfiction #merge mansion

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morallyinept · 5 months

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BADGES UPDATED & ADDED TO HERE!

So, Ive been on a designing spree, and decided to make some badges for some of the Agent/Forces Pedro Boys:

Frankie Morales - Private Pilot License & Delta Force Service ID Card & Certificate

Javier Peña - DEA ID Card

Dave York - FBI ID Badge (*Dave was actually in the DIA, not FBI - my bad! I'll re-do his badge at some point.)

Marcus Pike - FBI ID Badge

Det. Tim Rockford - LAPD Detective Badge

I've tried to keep them as true to the character's as possible with photos/age at time of joining Delta etc..., & referenced real ID badges out there to keep them as authentic as I can with fonts etc... I'm not an expert, but they were super fun to make.

☝🏻Please feel free to use these in your stories/edits if you want to. If you do, tag me as I'd love to see what you do with them. You can even print them out and make yourself a keepsake! 🖤

Happy Holidays! 🎄

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #javier peña #javier pena #frankie catfish morales #francisco morales #frankie morales #dave york #marcus pike #detective tim rockford #narcos #triple frontier #the mentalist #the equalizer 2 #merge mansion

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ninebluehearts · 1 year

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Your Hero

Prompt: Can I request Nurse Reader x Tim Rockford where he saves her life from a shootout and gets shot, she takes him home and patches him up, can be fluff or smut, whatever you wish <3 ily!!

A/n: Sure thing honey!! Thank you so much for this request! Ilyt!! <3

Warnings: Blood, gunshot wound, mentions of a toxic relationship.

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“Take off your pants and get on the couch.”

“Damn, aren’t you gonna buy me dinner first?” Tim asked, groaning in pain as he laughed at his own joke, hobbling over towards your couch.

You roll your eyes, leaving his side long enough to rush to the bathroom to grab the med kit you kept in the closet. It looked like one of those old books you’ve seen in the movies, a layer of dust covering the top of the box, easily falling from the plastic with a simple blow of your breath.

You wrinkled your nose as you walked back into your living room, trying to ignore the tickle of dust in your nostrils. “Alright. I’ve got a numbing spray in here somewhere, but I don’t think it’ll work too well for something this bad.”

“Well, good thing I’ve got a high pain tolerance, right doc?”

“Technically I’m not a doctor, but yes, that helps.” You’ve been rushing around trying to sterilize your hands and tools that when you finally took a second to look up, you were met with a sight that you’ve seen a million times before, but for some reason, this time you just had to stop and look.

Tim sat on the couch with his arms crossed against his chest, legs spread open in front of him, his strong thighs exposed now that his pants were bunched up in a ball beside him, as though he were desperate to get them off and out of the way. And considering the fact that there was a hole in the side of his thigh, anyone would be.

You shook your head, hoping you could shake the dirty thoughts from your mind. Sliding on a pair of rubber gloves, you kneeled down before him as you opened a small packet that had a disinfectant wipe inside. “This may sting.”

Tim didn’t really move when you began to clean the area, his hands gripping the edge of the nearest throw pillow being the only indicator that he was in pain.

As you fell into the flow of caring for your patient, your hands seemed to fall into autopilot for you, leaving your brain to run wild with thoughts of the night. How could you have been so reckless?

You just needed eggs.

You figured you’d walk in, grab the eggs, pay, and then you’d be done, free to go home and go to bed after a long day. You had just finished a twelve-hour shift at the hospital, still covered in way too many bodily fluids and such to identify at the moment.

You were so close to being done, proudly hugging a carton full of a dozen eggs against your chest as you stood in the checkout line. You wanted to scream when you heard your name being called from behind you, the familiar voice of your ex already igniting the ball of rage in your belly.

You decided to ignore him, handing the cashier the carton when it was your turn. You handed her a ten-dollar bill, telling her to keep the change so you could be out of there faster.

Your ex was hot on your tracks as you hurried out of the building, ignoring his calls. It was a messy, but simple break-up. He cheated on you, and you left his sorry ass. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Baby, how many times do I have to say I’m sorry, huh? Come on, you’re being ridiculous!” Tired of your silence, he reached out and grabbed your wrist, making you turn to face him, pure rage and exhaustion etched all over your face.

“Carl, if you don’t let me go right now, I swear to God I will scream.” You gritted out between your clenched teeth, your hands tightening into fists.

Carl only tightened his grip, his expression twisting into something sour. “Jesus Christ you’re so dramatic. Just listen to-” But you didn’t even give him the chance to finish, letting out a high-pitched scream as you looked him dead in his eyes.

He yelled at you to stop, but you refused, ignoring the judgmental looks you received from the surrounding strangers.

“Is there a problem?” A man asked as he made his way over to the both of you, flashing his badge to show that he was an officer.

You immediately stopped screaming, clearing your throat to try and ease the slight sting of your now irritated throat. “Yes, there is, officer. Please get this asshole FAR away from me so I can finally go home already.”

Carl sighed, placing his hands up in the air. “Nothing’s going on, officer. My girlfriend’s just being dramatic.”

You barked out a laugh, rage boiling up in your chest as though a little red monster was clawing at your insides, just begging to be set free. “I dumped your ass! What do you mean girlfriend?”

After a bit of back and forth between you and your boyfriend, things progressively got heated. Even more so when the officer tried to get between the two of you when Carl tried to grab your hand for the umpteenth time, resulting in Carl pulling a gun out from behind his back.

The officer tried to reason with him, slowly reaching for his own gun from his hip, but Carl shot him before he could reach it, running off once he realized what he had done.

You heaved a long, heavy sigh, spraying the area with the disinfectant as you tried to push any thoughts of Carl from your mind.

“May I ask what happened? With you and that guy.”

Or not..

You shrugged your shoulders, threading the tip of the string through the eye of the needle. “Nothing really happened. He cheated on me, and I wasn’t willing to stay and give him another chance. That’s all, really.”

“I get the feeling there’s a lot more to it than that.” Tim said, keeping his eyes focused on what you were doing.

“There is, I just don’t feel like getting into the lies and manipulation.” You said with a hollow laugh, gently poking his thigh with the tip of the needle. “Did you feel that?”

Tim simply shook his head, focusing on keeping himself as calm as he could so you could work.

“Perfect. Let’s get to it then.”

When you woke up, Tim’s head was resting on your shoulder, a red blanket draped across both of your laps. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to wake yourself up enough so you wouldn’t fall back asleep.

You spent over an hour trying to stitch up and bandage Tim’s thigh last night, and after you did, he somehow convinced you that a few glasses of whiskey would be good for the pain..

You glanced over at the clock on the wall, your shoulders slightly caving inwards when you saw that you had less than two hours to get ready for work.

You tried to slowly slip your shoulder out from under Tim’s head, holding your breath as though it could be a factor of waking him up, but no matter how quiet or slow your movements were, Tim gripped onto your arm, snuggling his face deeper into the side of your neck.

You thought about actually waking him up, feeling guilty for wanting to stay and cuddle with an unconscious stranger. But when you listened to those soft snores and felt the way his chest slowly fell, only to rise again a moment later, you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

This was probably the best sleep he’s had in awhile, you reasoned with yourself. The crazy granny case probably kept him up most nights, and now you have the chance to allow him to rest..

And so, you sank back against the couch, gently laying your head atop of his.

Just thirty more minutes. Thirty more minutes and you’d both get up and go your separate ways.

A small smile tugged at your lips, your eyes slowly falling shut as your whispered. “Thirty more minutes.”

#tim rockford x reader #tim rockford #merge mansion #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #tim rockford x female reader #tim rockford x you #detective tim rockford #💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙thoughts #thanks for the ask!!

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ssuperficialspacecadett · 1 year

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no thoughts,, only pedro pascal in the merge mansion AU

#pedro pascal #merge mansion #merge mansion mobile game #detective tim rockford #tim rockford #so handsome #this is the weirdest mashup of all time #fit goes crazy #handshandshands #ARMS #his fucking tattoo oh lorD #im so sick over this

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coulsons-fullmetal-cellist · 1 year

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To Catch a Thief

Featuring one Detective Tim Rockford and a certain thief

Words: 1, 985

The thief had eluded me once more, outsmarted me like a fox. I’ve been staring at the board for hours now, hoping a clue would call out to me, but nothing was popping out.

Normally, I wouldn’t give robbery my time, it just being some petty thief liberating rich assholes of their treasures. But rich assholes are loud and make one hell of a fuss about their property being stolen. I would’ve written this off as some Robin Hood type vigilante except they skipped the give-to-the-poor part.

This thief has proven a challenge to me. He’s like a flowing river; always running, being one step ahead of me, and stepping into its current would surely sweep me away, so I have to stand on the shore and hope to build a dam in time. He’s stolen from all the big-name families, no rhyme or reason to his method. No evidence: not a fingerprint or even an eyelash left behind. It’s like he’s mocking me, a spectre always behind me.

Fuck, I’m tired. I’ve been staring at this board for too long. I should take my mama’s advice and sleep on it, come back to it with fresh eyes. Driving back home, I’m running on autopilot. The darkness greets me as I open the door to my empty apartment. Not bothering to even take my shoes off, I’m out like a light as soon as my head hits the pillow.

The morning wakes me up with her horrible city noises. I slept on my bad shoulder which I regretted as soon as I moved from my slumber. Not even a scalding hot shower could each the eternal ache. It just makes the ugly scar stand out further.

Arriving at the station, I walk into a hurricane of chaos. Another robbery in the night. Once again, the thief has gone under my nose, tickling me with that feather of mockery. There was not enough cheap coffee in the world to deal with this shit storm.

“Rockford, it’s bad. The Ashford’s were hit this time.”

“What was taken?”

“All contents of their safe.”

“Don’t these people use banks anymore?”

Of course, they were making an even bigger storm in the kettle of the interview room. Priceless jewels stolen; family heirlooms gone forever. These rich snobs have all the money in the world and yet they go for the cheapest security because who would dare to steal from them? I’d never say they were asking for it, but you get what you paid for. When you pay for nothing, you end up with nothing in return. I’m sure once their insurance kicks in, they can buy new family heirlooms.

I added this case to my ever growing board and wait for another clue to call to me, but my captain was on my ass about catching this guy. His wife must be friends with these high society types. He’d always brag about the fancy parties he’d attended the night before, sipping on champagne while the rest of us have to deal with cheap instant coffee.

Sipping this cheap swill, my team formulated a plan to set a trap. The Montgomery’s were having some fancy shindig, unveiling a new work of art they purchased for some amount of money that would’ve bought be hot meals for life. Art was the first thing stolen, must’ve had a love of it before going onto things much shinier.

The whole place was swept over like a vacuum cleaner, picking up any bugs of contempt. Security cameras installed and several officers placed around the party scene, uniforms apparently being a downer in the festive atmosphere. And because my captain was attending, I also had to be on alert.

I never understood the rich lifestyle, too much spending money on things that don’t make sense. Who needs a bathroom with two bathtubs? And who enjoys the salty crap of caviar served on a cheap cracker? Give me a roof over my head and a bottle of something alcoholic to ease my pain and I’m happy.

I had to admit my heart wasn’t in it tonight, not completely on the job. I felt more of a thrill in the chase rather than waiting for a mouse to fall into an obvious trap. I was sure nothing would come of this aimless escapade. I was handed a glass of something fancy, so I settled myself down on a chair out of the way of the noise and partook of my gifted libation. Well, liquid gold does have a taste to it.

“Detective!”

I don’t remember falling asleep, the only thing I do remember was being shook awoke by a passing officer. The thief struck again. The easel empty of its work of art. The only thing left was a note.

The first clue and it was deliberately left to mock me. So either he got cocky, or we were so useless at finding even a crumb, he had to start leaving us whole meals out for us. Again, no fingerprints, not even a cobweb was disturbed. Security footage returned nothing, the phantom flying through once again.

Until next time.

“Take this to get the handwriting looked at. Notify me as soon as you have something” I managed to pass the note to an officer, the lad managing to get out before my captain came barging in, all hell following in his wake.

“Rockford! What the hell?”

I quickly rubbed the sleep from my face, hoping he wouldn’t notice I was out in the land of nod when it happened.

“Rockford, how in the hell did this bastard manage to get past us again?”

“Honestly, I only have theories. We were the only ones who knew the plan. Someone must have ratted us out or, it was an inside job. I’ll have to question everyone in the team.”

“An inside job? What kind of crazy are you talking here?”

“It’s the only theory that makes sense.”

“Sense? Tim, when was the last time you looked in the mirror?”

“I avoid it when I can.”

“Well, you look like shit is what you look like. You know what? You’re off the case.”

That hit me like a freight train running a red light.

“Boss, you can’t take this case away from me. I’m close, I know it.”

“I’m sorry but, you haven’t been the same since the accident.”

“I only got shot, I’ve dealt with worse.”

“No, I made a mistake bringing you back too early. I thought a minor case would ease back in, but it’s spiralled out of control.”

“It hasn’t”

“Ten thefts! In the last three months! Ten families robbed of their valuables.”

A dark thought crossed my mind, but thankfully my mouth had control of itself before I could say they deserved what they got. Instead, I just stood there, head hanging in shame and anger.

“You need a bit more time off. Take a vacation somewhere nice.”

I would’ve told him where to take his vacation but decided drowning my sorrows to be a better use of my time. I grabbed a bottle of something on my way out. These rich folks neither minding nor caring whether they had a bottle less in their collection.

My apartment was still empty when I returned; the sunshine reminding me of the loneliness I was set to face. Half a bottle of alcohol in my bloodstream would soon cure me of that, making my brain forget the world existed. I welcomed the darkness like a hug from my mama.

Until I was rudely awakened by thunder. The night greeted me with a display of a thunderstorm Frankenstein would’ve welcomed in his madness. And a creature was on the prowl, making me aware that I wasn’t alone in my apartment. The goosebumps on my arms prickled, alerting me to a presence close by. Drawing my gun I proceeded to hunt down this bastard once and for all. He was a sneaky one, I admit, slithering away out of sight while tempting me with that Forbidden fruit. I swear I would just see him out of the corner of my eye, only to have him disappear as soon as I turned the corner. This twisted cat and mouse game was suddenly interrupted by the ringing of my phone.

“What?”

“Detective Rockford? I have the results.”

“Results?”

I nearly forgot what he was talking about.

“Yeah, we did a writing analysis on the note left at the crime scene.”

A sudden movement caught me by the corner of my eye.

“The handwriting doesn’t match any known criminals” he continued while I slowly approached the shadow, “All we know is that it was done on a notepad found in the house and used with a pen also found there. It’s one of those fancy fountain pens that leaks so the culprit would have smudges on his fingers but sadly no fingerprints.”

I had him now, I said I’d call back and hung up before getting a reply. He was here now, right in front of me. I raised my gun.

“Settle down there, don’t go shooting in here, you could hurt yourself.”

I slowly lowered my gun and stared him square in the eye, something about them strangely familiar to me.

“I have you now.”

“Yes, you do. But let’s have a drink first before you drag me in.”

He held up the once empty glass of mine, in smudges visible on his fingers.

“For a man who hates the rich, you sure do have excellent taste.”

“Cut the drabble, tell me how you managed all those thefts.”

“You know how I did it.”

The man in front of me was talking in riddles. Giving me puzzle pieces without showing me the picture.

“How’d you get in here?”

“You know how I got in here.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?”

Lightning flashed, showing his full form. I dropped the glass from my hand, it shattering on the floor. I didn’t remember being handed one and raised my hand in confusion, noticing ink smudges on my fingers. The thief raised his hand and I looked back into his eyes.

The puzzle pieces in my head were slowly being put back into place.

“Are you me?”

“No, I’m me, you’re you. We just, how do you say it? Have a lot in common.”

It was like looking into a mirror, literally. I’d been avoiding my reflection for months since I got shot, too ashamed to look at myself. My reflection must have taken a life of its own.

“There you were, defending some rich couple getting into their car, being held up by some petty thief. Then you, the good detective goes and gets shot defending their honour. And what do you get in return?”

My scar burned at the memory of it. I scratched away at it, so did he.

“All that pain and suffering, and not even a thank you. In fact…”

“They blamed me for letting him get away.”

The puzzle completed now; the picture came flooding back into your memory. All the pain and humiliation I was put through.

“A desk job was all I was good for when I got back to work.”

“A smart man like you being made to sit the day away in boredom? No wonder your mind started to wander.”

“A challenge was needed.”.”

“Only one you could solve. It was a fun challenge.”

“Fun indeed.”

“And you happened to get revenge against all those rich fuckers who left you to rot in the gutter.”

My smile was demonic now.

“It was fun to see their faces.”

“All to see that smile on your face.”

His smile matched mine. I thanked him with a nod, and he nodded in return. He raised a new glass and brought it to his lips. The whiskey tasted divine on my tongue.

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justsomerandomfanfic · 1 year

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Character Poll

What character should I add to my Character Masterlist, to write for? Below are a few characters that I think I can write for, after some binge-watching and careful study of their character...

The winner will be available for fanfics/requests/asks/etc.

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a7estrellas · 1 year

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PEDRO PASCAL as Detective Tim Rockford Merge Mansion (2023)

#pedro pascal #tim rockford #merge mansion #pedropascaledit #ppascaledit #dilfgifs #mensource #looks hot with the glasses #peña is that you?

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call-me-cosmic · 1 year

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STOP THERE’S ALREADY A TIM ROCKFORD PLAYLIST ON SPOTIFY 😭

#pedro pascal #detective tim rockford #merge mansion #spotify #spotify playlist #LMAO #YALL WORK FAST #i’m so proud #listening rn #music #tim rockford #mobile games #this man has me in a chokehold #and I’m gasping for air #please help

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popcornforone · 2 months

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Advising

Chapter 3 of Methodical:- The Tim Rockford Fan Fic Serise

Master list

Chapter 2

Sorry it’s been a long time coming. Other fics got in the way but I’m back on my Tim love (not that it ever disappeared). It’s worth heading back to see where we were but let’s catch up in our sexy detectives life shall we.

Synopsis:- You have been avoiding Tim for the last 2 weeks but you now have to go & drop evidence off to him.

Word Count:-2300

Warnings:- last chapter without smut, swearing, being Angry & controlling, angst, talk about one night stands & use of hand cuffs, smut implied. for me this is relatively soft. Next chapter it won’t be.

Thanks for the read peoples, all feed back is welcome. I hope you all enjoy.

You’ve not been looking forward to this moment & you’re pretty sure he’s been actively avoiding you too. There’s butterflies in your stomach, not the type that he usually gives you. Is it because of what happened? Is it that you want more? Your head for the last 2 weeks has been all over the place. You’re equally as guilty for not following up but today you have to see him. You have evidence & you need to speak to Tim, no matter how painful this will be.

You knock twice on the door to his office while taking a big breath. Your hand shakes & your heart thumps. This will either be really professional or you will leave this room crying.

“Come in” his tone is standard & you slowly open the door to see Tim looking at his evidence board. He’d have said come in to anyone, no matter who knocked, he’s lost in his work like he usually is. God that hand looks so large around the back of his neck as he contemplates. His little thinking tick he has when he’s in the zone. You gulp once the door is shut is a little too loud. You see his shoulders raise, he knows that sound, he’d recognise that & the smell of your perfume anywhere. He sighs. He slowly turns to face you.

He looks like he has a million things to say as those big brown eyes look you up & down. His eyes are full of sorrow & regret. You are either going to burst with anger or run out crying. You take 3 steps over & wave the file at him & put it down on the desk.

“That…ermmm… ahhh… evidence… deee dete detective” you slowly put the file on the table & nod trying not to make full eye contact & turn back to leave. But that large firm hand of his lands on top of yours. You shudder for a few seconds. You look up deeply in love with those big brown eyes.

“We need to talk” he says…

*16 days earlier*

“& then” Tim jokes as the waiter brings the menus over for desert as you both laugh at the Italian restaurant you’ve gone to for your date. He’s been caressing your hand all night. You’ve been twisting your hair & all you’ve both done is flirt. This isn’t detective Rockford sitting in front of you. This is a man who you’d like to be your boyfriend who is having the best dinner date you’ve had in years. “Then he walked into a bin, face planted the bush & hit the deck & I got it all on camera” he finishes telling the story about his holiday with his mates years ago. You’ve really got to know each other tonight. He’s genuine & sweet & you don’t often put out on the first date but the way you’ve been looking at each other & the hand caressing & the way your leg has been feeling his up & down under the table, you are wondering if the hotel 2 streets away has a spare room on this Saturday night. Everything is going so well.

The waiter comes back over.

“I’ll have the banoffee pie please” you say. Tim smiles at that.

“& I’ll have the…” he goes to say it but then he catches something out of the corner of his eye. He might have had half a bottle of red & a beer while out but in an instant the kind soft funny flirty Tim you’ve been chatting too is back to being detective Rockford. “That’s Danson!” He says & stands up.

“Tim?” You’re very concerned how he’s just switched back on to being a detective & haven’t even seen the person he’s talking about.

“Cuffs” & his hand does a come hither sign.

“What”

“Give me your hand cuffs”

“I don’t have them”

“What!” He sounds so disappointed in you. “Why don’t you have them on you all the time”

“Because this was a date, not work & where am I meant to carry them” your dress isn’t too revealing but you have nowhere to put them.

“I dunno in your bag, in your bra” he’s saying this matter of fact & you raise an eyebrows. He then asks the waiter if they have any restraints & because it’s just a kid they have no idea. He then looks at you. “I’m gonna trail Danson, call the station tell them where we are & that Danson is a few streets away”

“But Tim”

“DO IT” he says firmly & get up & walks outside. Leaving you alone in a restaurant feeling awkward. He’s stormed out in you. Your eyes sting & well up. You call the station & say to the waiter Tim will be back in a bit. Tim doesn’t come back. You have to pay the whole bill. & when you leave feeling distraught & go to call him it goes straight to voicemail. It does that on Sunday & Monday too. No apology text, no missed call, nothing. You initially try to find him when you’re back at work but after another 2 days you then start actively avoiding him.

*back in the now in Tims office*

Tim is pacing as he’s trying to explain why he did what he did from that evening but you’re not listening you’re just replaying that evening through your mind again & again. Hearing him echo the words DO IT forcefully each time. Tim eventually stops pacing & hold both your hands.

“Say something” he asks & you shake your head. “What else do I need to say” he states.

“Sorry” you mumble, it’s quiet but he hears it. He then takes one of his large hands & lifts your chin up.

“I didn’t hear you”

“I said say sorry” you say in a firm tone that resonates to him. You’re now lost in his eyes as your own well up.

“What? I don’t need to say…”

“Yes you bloody do Tim” you interrupt him & it’s your turn to pace about & give him a Lecture. “It’s not about that I had to pay the bill, or that we’ve both avoided each other to not have this chat. It’s the fact you talked to me like I was nothing”

“What”

“DO IT” you snap back. “Those two word have spun around my head for the last 2 weeks. How the kind wonderful man I was on a date with who made me feel seen as a person, the second he saw something work related just snapped back into being at work. Yes Danson was finally caught. But a message to say sorry let’s try that another day would have been nice.”

“But I got him”

“You’re not seeing the point Tim” your hand firmly hits the desk as you say this. “I know you find it hard to switch off from work, you told me on those coffee dates we had which you said weren’t really dates. But then for that to happen on our actual date…” you shake your head & turn to face his evidence wall. You don’t want to show weakness with your eyes filling up.

“I can’t help it I’m married to my work, I love it you know that, you admire it… you…”

“Then if you’re married to the job, then you don’t need an other half” you snap back & face him. The first tear drips down your face & you look at the evidence wall. “My advice to you Tim is to not lead people on in future, because clearly your work comes first.”

Tim is silent for a few seconds as are you as you look at the evidence wall, not really seeing it clearly as you cry. Slowly you hear his feet shuffle & he stands to the side of you. He slowly moves a piece of your hair & softly whispers into your ear.

“I’m sorry, I’m a fool” you gasp. The gasp he likes. The warmth of his breath freeing your broken soul. You slowly link your hand in his.

“I didn’t hear you” you repeat his earlier words & turn to face him. He takes a big breath & rubs across the top of your knuckles.

“I’m sorry, I’m a fool, forgive me, I always fuck things up” his eyes are genuine. This isn’t a game like most men play. He can see he’s upset you & he looks soft. “Please forgive me” he’s pleading. You look at his face. Those plump lips would do anything for you.

“Well as you asked so nicely” you cough & sniff & he goes into his white shirts pocket & dabs your face with a tissue.

“I also can’t have those beautiful eyes getting all red & puffy on me either.” You giggle.

“You think I have beautiful eyes”

“Yes windows to the soul, that’s why I avoided you, I didn’t want to crush your soul anymore”

“You’re either the king of pick up lines Tim or you’re secretly a romantic stuck in a workaholics body.” You giggle & test your hand on his shoulder. & then comes the smoulder & the pout. The one that always makes you weak. The one that makes you cry out for more. & the short little deep murmured reply.

“Guilt… as… charged” his eyes are full on making contact with you. All is forgiven.

You aren’t sure who moved their head in first, & this wasn’t where you imagined your first kiss with Tim being. His lips capture yours. Time stops as your hand grips his shoulder, the white shirt & the holster feel so good under your hand. He’s got one hand on your hip, caressing it. You can tell from this he will be such a sensitive lover. He is kissing you with all his might, igniting both your souls, yours no longer broken. His other hand gently strokes your neck before it starts to caress the side of your face. His thumb & fingers holding you in place as you start to tremble. The butterfly’s of nerves you had earlier now excited inside you. You push up in your tip toes to feel more of your body press against his. He lets out a little moan & then continues. He knows what he’s doing. He might not have had a romantic parter in years, but he is your cassinova. He’d already seduced you & now he’s just confirming this is real for the both of you.

Slowly you open your eyes when the kiss is over & you pant. His eyes are still shut.

“Tim?”

“Shhh” that large thumb graces your lips. “My advice to you is to not ruin the moment”

“Yes sir” & you know this time you lean in. You orchestrate the next kiss. His hands fumble in your hair. His beard rubbing against you has you whimpering. You can feel more than his badge rubbing against you as your tongues dance. Neither of you asked. It’s like your bodies knew. It’s perfect, & you’re perfect for each other.

“Detective Rockford… I just” a shrieking high voice comes wondering in & you both break the kiss quickly & both turn around & shout in unison.

“Ever heard of knocking.” Before you both realise it’s Winslow.

“Bloody hell Winslow”

“Sorry, I saw nothing, I just came to see where you were as I knew you’d been building up confidence all morning to come drop this evidence off, but clearly you found the courage for more than that”

“That’s enough Winslow” Tim says in his firm voice at them.

“Say no more… I’ll just erm… well we need to be in the car in 15mins” & Winslow backs out the room apologetically. & you both snigger.

“See your voice is intimidating” you say to tim playfully.

“I promise to try to not use that voice with you again & get out of my head” Tim strokes your face.

“& I’ll promise to give you some leeway” he chuckles & smiles back at you.

“So I guess I owe you a date” he says. A naughty smirk comes across his face.

“Well you did make me pay for the last one”

“I know, my bad, you’ll never have to pay for a date again”

“Tim, I don’t need to be pampered & spoilt I just want us to have fun, I don’t really care.”

“But I do,” he says & kisses your forehead.

“Well if you insist then yes,” I can see his hours on the wall as I glance across at when he’s meant to be at work. “How’s Friday?”

“Perfect I don’t think we can go back to that Italian for a while though” he giggle.

“Friday is a date then” I hold him close & we both sigh as we hug it out.”& this time I’ll bring my handcuffs”

“Ha” Tim scoffs. “I’m sorry I shouted that at you on the last one, the workaholic in me made me say it.”

“Hmmmm” you say as you softly then kiss his lips once more & head for his offfice door as he picks up the evidence you brought into him. “My advice is don’t always think of a the work mindset Tim…” I pause before I open the door”… the handcuffs have other uses” & you leave but quickly glimpse at his bright red face. He’s blushing like a beetroot.

As you sit in the car waiting for Winslow your phone pings & you open the message.

“Naughty girl…” it says. It’s from Tim.

“I hope you keep calling me that” you reply as Winslow gets in the passenger seat with two coffee & can see the look on your face.

“Can I buy an outfit for the wedding now?” They ask & you just smile. “I’m taking that as a maybe…”

Chapter 4

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