Fanfics I need out of my head

Ran by @clawdee || Kelsey || she/her || 30's || Multi-Fandom || If you are not eighteen or older you shouldn't be here ||

[clawdeewritesfanfic]

All my fics are 100% Explicit for an 18+ audience only, MDNI.

Everything is tagged; you are responsible for what you read. I do my best to tag (I for sure get the major things) but if there are smaller things I missed you feel should be tagged, let me know!

I mostly write for the PPCU but have a few non-PPCU fics here.

Joel Miller / OFC!Alexis (reader coded/reader with a name) [Takes place 2 months after S1 TLOU] [Series Masterlist] [AO3] [Complete]

Alexis Clark has been through too much in her fucking 42 years of life to have to get up and haul her and her son from their comfortable home to a new strange town a state away. Yet here she fucking was, on horseback, after running from home with nothing but what they take with them on patrol, staring down at what she hoped was Jackson, Wyoming. What she didn't expect to find in Jackson, was a man she hasn't seen in nearly 21 goddamn years.

NewlyDivorced!Joel Miller / Fat!F!Reader [pre-outbreak, Summer of '95] [Series Masterlist] [AO3]

You didn't think your life would change that summer, going for a drink with a friend - who ended up ditching you. But it did. Meeting a handsome stranger in a bar, and then taking a wild chance and letting him into your pants. But will you also let him into your heart?

Dave York / Fat!F!Reader [Series Master List] [AO3]

The events in Equalizer 2 take place in September/October 2016 (I'm going with September), some shit happened in the 7 years between then and now, dates will be included in fics. No real plot line, mainly just smut of the same couple (and friends!). Explores Dom/Sub dynamics and other 'taboo' kinks. I do my best to research things, but please do not take anything I write about as gospel - do your own, more through research on these topics before trying anything.

Javier Peña / Fat!F!Reader / Steve Murphy / Connie Murphy [Series Masterlist] [AO3] [Complete]

Your best friend just had a baby, and now has a request for you. To kick off the fantasy of husband swapping/swinging you had talked about months ago to keep her husband satisfied while her body recovers.

Donald Pierce / Fat!SexWorker!F!Reader [Series Masterlist] [AO3]

Kidnapped. Trapped. Alone. You don't know for how long, or who took you. You don't know WHY you were taken. But everything changes when HE walks through the door.

Tim Rockford / F!Reader [Series Masterlist] [AO3]

After separating from your child's father, you and your son move back in with your father and reconnect with your childhood crush, who also happens to be your father's partner.

Max Phillips / Fat!F!Reader [Series Masterlist] [AO3]

Max just wanted to have a little fun, and he knew you wanted it too. He saw your dreams, felt how your heart beat around him, smelled your arousal. He didn't mean to fall in love.

[Masterlist]

[chestharrington]

PSA: For fan works, reblog and like from OP

Tumblr is rolling out a new reblog/notes system that completely disregards creators. In their new system, they're taking a twitter-style approach where reblogs will have their own notes that DO NOT contribute to the original post's notes.

Because of this, creators will no longer be able to see an accurate display of likes/reblogs/etc. This is completely altering the way feedback and responses to works are going to be received on this website.

If you come across a fan work that you enjoy, please take the extra step to go to OPs original post, and leave your comment/like/reblog there. Or go one step further and send an ask to OP directly to tell them what you liked!

I really hope Tumblr staff reverses course and reverts to the original reblog system for the sake of the large base of creators who use this site to share their works, but until then, please be considerate and make sure the creators here see/feel the love.

[darkease-deactivated20251031]

Not trying to sound harsh, but I need to say this clearly.

Seeing so many minors on here interacting with adult spaces is genuinely exhausting. This isn’t a place for you. It’s not personal… it’s about boundaries, safety, and respect for age limits that exist for a reason.

If you’re under 18, please do not follow me, do not like, reblog, or interact with my posts in any way. This is an adult space meant for adults only. I’m not comfortable having minors here, and I won’t take chances with that.

If I find out a minor is following or interacting with my content, you’ll be blocked immediately. No exceptions, no warnings. It’s not about being rude, it’s about protecting both you and me.

Adults, please feel free to reblog this. We need more people setting clear boundaries like this and reminding others that 18+ spaces are not playgrounds. There’s nothing cool or edgy about crossing that line. Stay safe, stay in your lane, and respect the walls that exist for good reason.

[hearteris-deactivated20251112]

hey by the way! xkit rewritten has officially updated! the classic footer update has hit! go into your extension for it and update it manually!

then you're going to reload the page and click this.

the bottom of posts should go from this (on the left) to this (on the right)! yay!

[clawdeewritesfanfic]

Daddy's Girl: Chapter 4

DBF!Tim Rockford / F!Reader

Rating: Explicit! MDNI! 18+ || Word Count: 5,195 || Beta: Myself and Grammerly || AO3

You talk with your friend to set up your alibi for the weekend, and then you call Tim to finalize plans.

Warnings/Tags: dads best friend/work partner, age gap, (reader late 20s/early 30s - Tim late 40's/early 50's), daddy kink, hidden relationship, pet names: Daddy, kiddo, sweetheart, baby, baby girl, babe, missy, grandpa, beautiful, good girl. Stalking, phone sex, genital pronouns, sex toy (wand), mutual masturbation, fingering (v), jerking off. || Only descriptors of Reader: reader's skin color/hair texture & length/body are not described, the only things you know about reader are that she is able-bodied, Tim can move her, she has nipple piercings, she's a cis-female, and she can have children. || Dividers: @saradika-graphics || Tagging to add to the databases:  @littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @pedrostories || Tag List: @mountainsandmayhem @baronessvonglitter

Previous || Series Masterlist || Next

Sandra takes the chair across from you in the break room and starts unloading her mid-morning snack. “Whose the guy?”

“What?” You cough around a mouthful of parfait. You swallow quickly and look over at Sandra, eyes wide.

“Who are you spending the weekend with? You know, the reason I’m covering for you?”

“There is no guy,” you say nervously, concentrating on your food.

“Girl then? I know you said you were bi, but I’ve never seen you with a chick.”

“That sounds super biphobic, Sandra.”

She makes an annoyed sound deep in her throat. “I didn’t say you weren’t bi because I haven’t personally seen you tongue fuck a girl—” You look around the small room to see if anyone heard Sanda’s loud ass proclamation, but the only other person in the break room was Margaret, and she was asleep with her head down. “—it was just an observation. And that didn’t answer my question.”

“Not a girl—also, I’ll have you know I dated plenty of women in college before Dean.” You pop a small strawberry into your mouth.

“Come on, girly-pop.” Sandra nudges your shin with the toe of her heel. “Spill. We’re besties, we’ve known each other since we were Cal’s age. Not like I’m going to run and tattle to your hot daddy.”

“OK, first off, ew, that’s my father; and second, why do you want to know so bad?”

“I deserve to know. I’m covering for your ass, and if you get caught, I get caught as a liar. Don’t need the cops to know I’m a fucking liar.”

“Pfft. Wouldn’t be the cops, would just be one cop.” You mutter, then sigh. She was right. You’ve told each other everything since you were five. She was the first one to know about your pregnancy. You hold your pinky out to her. Like the best friend she is, she links her pinky through yours without a word. “It’s Tim.” You say quickly, not looking her in her eyes.

“Tim?” She tilts her head, thinking. “Tim…?” She suddenly slams her hands down on the table, making everything jump, including poor Margaret. “You mean Detective Rockford? Your father’s partner?” You finally meet her eyes, but don’t say a word. She stands up from the table and takes a lap around the room before sitting back down. “You’re hooking up with that hottie????” You nod. “Holy shit. Ho-ly shit. Tell me everything.”

Tim stares at his phone and bites his lip. He wants to contact her, see if this weekend is still happening, and see what went wrong yesterday. He meant to ask last night, but he dragged himself from the cab, up four flights of stairs, and then opened up his apartment door to that fucking note on his floor. He glares at the note in its evidence bag on his kitchen table, ready to be dropped off at the precinct. He knew they couldn’t track it, but he was hoping for prints—for anything.

Taking a deep breath, he presses ‘Call’.

“So, you love him?” Sandra asks, sucking up the last of her soda through a straw.

“I don’t know!” you exclaim, exasperated. “It’s been a while since Dean and I separated. I haven’t had even a one-night stand since—”

“Mistake.”

“—Because I’ve been so busy with Cal, and then moving back in with Dad—”

“Yet still found time to jump on Detective Hottie.”

“—And then here comes Tim, and he’s flirting, and it just happens; it keeps happening, and I don’t know!” You slouch down in the chair. “He’s my dad’s age, his best friend and partner, fucking twenty years older than I am.”

“And you love him.”

“I thought it was just gonna be a couple times, fun and games, nothing serious. You know?” You groan and put your head down on the table. “But I love him.”

Voice mail. Tim sighs. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says after the beep. “I uh, was just wondering if we’re still on for this weekend? If you’re okay with it? We can do whatever you want; we can stay in or go out. Or…even if you wanted to cancel, that’d be fine with me. Can you please call me back?”

“What are you doing?! Answer it!” You stare at your phone, watching it switch Tim to voicemail. Sandra throws her hands up. “Ugh, I should have answered it for you.” She swipes your phone up.

“Hey!” You lean over the table, arms outstretched.

“We’re gonna listen to the message and you’re gonna call him back.”

“Sandra! I don’t even know what to say!”

“We’ll listen to the message and formulate a response. It’s what we do. Remember Tony Radice?”

Tim spends too long staring at his phone, waiting for her to call back. He had things to do; he couldn’t sit here waiting, pining. He had to shower and drop the note off with the forensic team so they could dust it for prints, even if they got nothing from the pictures, and then run down to the bodega for breakfast. Patterson had to mess up somewhere.

Leaving the phone on the coffee table with the note, he heads to his bedroom, setting out his clothes for the day. His eyes rove over his bed, remembering when he came home the other day.

It was late, and he and John had just nabbed the guy they’d been after for the week on drug charges; he still had the faint smell of her on his upper lip. When he came home, the pie was put away in the fridge, his clothes were picked up off the floor, and his bed was made. God, his bed.

He had drawn back the comforter, and the smell of her was overwhelming. It’d been hours, but there was still a dark, nearly dried spot on his sheets, and God help him, he knelt on his bed and buried his nose into that spot for far longer than he should have. He drifted off to bed that night with the smell of her enveloping him, thoughts of her taking over his head. The dreams were too X-rated to even think about again because he had woken up so hard, aching for her.

He can feel stirring in his loins and shakes his head, trying to stop thinking about her. He didn’t have time to fucking jerk off again.

“What did he do? Throw his fucking phone out the window as soon as he left the message?” You hiss at Sandra as his voicemail finally picks up. “Hey Tim—”

“Hey, Tim?” Sandra mouths at you, disgust on her face.

“Shut up!” You mouth back and turn your back to her. “I’m sorry I missed your call. I was in a meeting.” Sandra snorts from behind you. “Of course, we’re still on for this weekend. I know we haven’t ironed out the details, but I told Dad I was staying at my friend Sandra’s-”

“Hi, Tim!” She calls flirtily from behind you. You whip around, grab a pen from her desk, and toss it at her.

You grit your teeth and turn back around. “—But I told Dad I was going to her house after work on Friday, and would be home Sunday night; I’m open to doing whatever this weekend.” You lower your voice and take a step away from Sandra. “We don’t even have to leave the apartment if you don’t want to. But we can talk more tonight and finalize the plans. I’ll call you around eight if that’s okay. Talk to you later, bye.” You click the phone off, toss it on Sandra’s couch, and then flop onto it, sighing loudly.

“Girl,” Sandra comes over and flops next to you. “What the hell was that?”

“I was nervous!” You bump her shoulder with yours. “What was with you interrupting and shouting from behind me? Felt like I was back in high school,” you grouse.

“It did feel like we were back in high school,” Sandra says with a smile. She reaches for your hand and links your fingers together. “I missed that. I missed you. We for real have to have a weekend together. Get takeout, drink boxed wine, watch shitty movies and TV all weekend.”

“I missed you, too.” You squeeze her hand. “We will, soon. I promise.”

“What’s got you being naughty, Timmy?”

Tim’s head jerks up at the sound of John’s voice. “What?” John holds up the note and raises his eyebrows. “Oh,” Tim looks away from him and back at the computer screen. “I don’t know,” he lies. “Was under my door when I got back from your place…the uh…night of the barbecue.” He checks his watch. It was late, and he had an hour to pick up dinner and get home, be ready for her call at eight.

“No pictures with it?” John frowns, turning the bag over to look at the back of the letter.

“Nope, just the letter, folded once, slipped under the door.”

“Well, they got a print.” Tim’s head whips up, but John is still frowning. “But it’s not Patterson’s. They think it might belong to whoever loaded the copier it came out of, but there’s still nothing concrete linking it to Patterson, so it’s gone down to the bottom of the ‘ASAP’ list.”

Tim pounds his fist down on the desk. “Fuck!” A print was good, but who knows how long until they’d be able to run it and how long it’d take to give them a name. Then they’d have to track the person down, find out where the machine was… Tim sighs.

“I know, man,” John sighs too, dropping down into his chair across from Tim. “I got Patterson’s PO keeping a closer eye on him. But we plan on hunkering down for a while. Cal’s going to his father’s for the weekend, and Dean knows what’s going on; he can protect Cal, and baby girl is going to hang out with her friend for the weekend.”

Tim shifts in his chair. “Is that safe?” he asks, eyes glued to the computer screen in front of him as he tries to speed through the last of the report.

“She knows how to take care of herself, she has a gun, a license to carry concealed. We went shooting last time Dean had Callum, so she’s practiced recently, and she’s still a crack fucking shot.” Tim inwardly groans at the visual of her with a gun in her hands, competently using it. “Besides, anytime those two get together, they just hang out and watch movies all weekend, eat junk food, and get a little tipsy.” John chuckles to himself. “Not much different than the sleepovers they used to have.”

“Sounds like a nice weekend. What does Poppy plan on doing?” Tim peeks around his computer at his partner.

John smiles. “Just relaxing, catching up on all the games I missed this week. Gonna miss them both though. The house has been…nice with both of them home.”

Tim nods. John has talked about how quiet the house has been since she went off to college, especially since Vivianne passed away. Just puttering around his big ol’ empty house by himself. John would often come over to Tim’s apartment, bringing food, to catch up on games, on cases, to not be alone. He loved his daughter, and here Tim was fucking her on the sly. In the man’s own house, planning to take her to a hotel to make her scream his name without fear of her Father hearing.

He hated sneaking behind John’s back, but he didn’t know how to tell him, and he didn’t want to think of stopping. The past week had been amazing; he felt ten years younger because of her. But he knew that one way or another, he’d possibly lose his best friend or the best thing that ever happened to him.

“G’night, Mama,” Callum says sleepily as he clutches his stuffed dog. “Love you.”

“I love you too, baby. I’ll see you in the morning.” You kiss his forehead and pull the blankets up, tucking him into the giant guest bed.

“Daddy ‘morrow?”

You smile to yourself, both of you got your Daddies tomorrow. “Yup, he’s gonna pick you up after school. Mrs. Martinez already knows; so you don’t leave with anyone but your Daddy or Poppy or Me, okay?”

“What ‘bout Uncle Tim?”

Your heart skips a beat. Cal has taken to Tim like a fish to water, regarding him as yet another positive male influence in his little life. “Yeah, Uncle Tim too. But that’s it, okay?”

Cal nods, his heavy eyelids closing. “Mama, Daddy, Poppy, Uncle…” his voice trails off and turns to soft snores. You turn off the bedside light, make sure his nightlight and the video monitor are on, and his sippy cup has water in it, then leave the room, leaving the door open a crack. Walking down the hall to your room, you can faintly hear the TV on in the basement; your father would be down there for a while. Catching up on the hockey game from earlier today, he wouldn’t be up for a long while.

Heading into your room, you close and lock your door and turn on the receiver to the monitor in Callum’s room, placing it on your nightstand facing the bed. Then you get into your drawer and grab your favorite wand and wireless earbuds. Setting up your bed, you get in, your phone in hand, wand resting against your hip, and are interrupted by an incoming call.

Checking the screen, you grimace. “Goddammit, Dean, you better not be calling to cancel,” you mutter and click answer. “Hey, Dean.”

“Hey, babe, question for you,” he starts, and you sigh. Here we go. “With the things going on right now for you and John—”

“It’s under control, Dean, you know that,” you say quickly. Dean would never try to take Cal from you; he’s not in the picture because he knows he’s not made to be a full-time Dad, and he was happy being a part-timer; you both were.

“I know, I know. Chill, relax. I was just wondering if you’d be okay with me taking him to my parents’ house in Bridgeport for the weekend, and since next week is spring break, maybe keep him till Wednesday? Just get him out of the city for a little bit, and spend some time with his Gigi and PopPop.”

“Oh my God, Dean, I thought you were calling to cancel on us,” you let out a loud sigh. “Yeah, of course! I’m going to be working anyway, and he’d be spending his days either with Dad, Tim, or Ms. Marino next door.”

“She’s the one whose husband was a cop?”

“And her father, uncles, some aunts, siblings—basically everyone in her family. She was my babysitter when Tim wasn’t available when I was a kid. You know no one’s getting past that little old lady.” You and Dean bullshit for another few minutes before you say your goodbyes, already late in calling Tim.

Should I call her? Tim stares at his phone. No. She said she’d call, I’ll give her time. He nervously shoves more noodles in his mouth. Everything is alright, it’s around Callum’s bedtime, maybe she’s just having trouble getting the little scamp down. If anything was wrong, John would call. Unless John found out. Unless John was hurt. Tim can feel his heart rate picking up as his brain goes into overdrive.

His phone trills, startling him out of the spiral he was going down. His phone lights up with your face, and he sets the box of Chinese food down and picks it up. “Hey, sweetheart,” he rasps, swallowing the last of his mouthful.

She laughs on the other end, quiet, light, and Tim finds himself smiling in his empty living room. “Did I interrupt dinner?”

“Yes, but it’s a welcome interruption,” Tim leans back. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. I got Cal down, and then Dean called; he wanted to extend the weekend with Cal and take him to his parents’ house. It’s safer for him right now.” Tim could hear the sadness in her voice.

“Are you okay with that?”

She sighs, and Tim hears a rustle. “Yes and no. I love that he gets to spend more time with his father and gets to see his other grandparents. He always has fun with them, and they treat him really well. I just hate that it has to be for his safety—I feel like I can’t keep him safe.”

“You know that’s not true, sweetheart. You are doing everything you can to keep Cal safe. None of this is your fault, it’s whoever is doing all this, taking the pictures, leaving the notes—”

“Notes?” she asks, startled. “I didn’t hear anything about notes.

Shit. “I just got it last night,” Tim sighs. “I think someone saw us in your backyard; at least I’m assuming that’s what the note is referring to.”

“What did it say, Tim?”

Tim closes his eyes and rubs his forehead. “It said ‘Naughty, Naughty Detective,’ or some bullshit like that. I took it in today, and the guys got a print off it, but it didn’t match Patterson, so they’re going to run it later after the more pressing searches they gotta do.”

“Do you think it’s not Patterson behind it all, then?”

“Shit, if it’s not him, I don’t know who it would be.” Tim adjusts on the couch, lying down and putting his feet up on the other end. “But let’s talk about something more pleasant. I want to take you out, get your mind off everything.”

She giggles, and Tim inwardly groans, his cock stirring just from hearing that breathy little giggle of hers. “Tim, I told you, we could just stay at your apartment all weekend. I’m sure there’s plenty we can do there that’ll take my mind off things.”

“Fuck, there absolutely is, but I still want to take you out if that’s okay? Dinner Friday night, and I have a friend who works at a hotel and owes me a favor, he says they’re not busy this weekend and he can get me a discount on a room.”

“Here in town?” she sounded excited.

“Close to Madison Square Park,” Tim says proudly. It was a very nice hotel, fucking nearly five stars, and Marco was going to get him a room for a fucking steal. “Has a nice restaurant attached, so we can have dinner there and go right up to our room.”

“Oh, Tim!” The excitement in her voice tells him this is a great idea.

“That alright?”

“That’s more than alright if it’s alright with you!” They quickly ironed out the details. She was off work early that Friday; she’d go to Sandra’s house, get ready for dinner, and he would pick her up. Just like a date. They’d come back to his apartment Sunday morning, hang out for a bit, then he’d take her back to Sandra’s to get her car. Tim’s food grows cold on the coffee table as they chat, catching up about their days.

“It’s getting late,” she says quietly.

Tim checks his watch. “Oh, it did get late pretty quickly, didn’t it?”

“Mmm.” That little hum of hers did something to him. “What are you wearing, Tim?”

Tim chuckles. “Oh, we’re doing this?” He says quietly with a smirk.

“If you want.” She says it so softly, so sweetly. He gets up, turning off all the lights in his living room except a small, dim lamp, then lies back down, his palm rubbing against the chubby he’s been sporting since she called.

“My grey sweats, you remember those, don’t you, baby? An’ an old white shirt. My normal pajamas.”

“Mmm, I love you in those grey sweats, they make your ass look great.”

He laughs. “Yeah?”

“Everything you wear makes you look great, Tim.”

“And what are you wearing, missy?”

She giggles again. “Oh, this ol’ thing? Why, it’s just this little, bitty tank top, with some little, bitty shorts. They’re pink with white stripes, with a cute little black bow in the front.”

“An’ what’s under them?” Tim asks, palming himself.

“A very wet black thong.”

Christ. “You should take those off, baby, that can’t be comfortable.”

You kick off your sleep shorts and peel your thong off, kicking both to the floor at the foot of your bed. “What now, Daddy?” Your hand dips between your legs, amazed at how wet you were just from talking to him.

“God, I wish I could see you,” he groans.

“Who says you can’t? Hang on.” You put your phone down on the nightstand, move your pillows around, and settle back down. “You can take video calls on your phone, can’t you, grandpa?” you joke.

“Hey now!” Tim laughs. “Do you need a spankin’?”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t answer the question.” You lean against the wall, pillows cushioning you as you draw your knees up and spread your thighs. “Can you do video calls?”

“Pretty sure I can, does that mean you’ll see me too?”

“Mmhmm.” You smile, biting your lip as you lean forward and prop your phone back on the nightstand, angling it where you think it’ll catch the best angle. “I’m gonna start it,” you say, clicking the button.

Tim answers quickly, his dark face filling the screen, glasses perched on the end of his nose, and his eyes growing wide at the vision in front of him. “Fuck me,” he whispers, tongue wetting his bottom lip as he adjusts on the couch. His head sits where yours did earlier in the week. “Can you hear me okay?”

You nod. “Earbud.” You turn your head and point it out. “Can you hear me?” As he nods, you slip your fingers through your folds, spreading your lips, moaning as you dip one finger into your aching hole.

“Fuck. Look at her, sopping wet just for me.” You watch as Tim puts his phone on the table, and stare at his ceiling as you listen to the rustling of clothing, and then he’s propping his phone up on his coffee table, and sitting back down, his sweats now gone and his cock in his big hand.

Your breath catches in your throat as he swipes his thumb over the tip and spreads the pearl of pre-cum down his length, eyes flicking up to his face. You pull your finger out and bring it to your mouth. “You should spit on it, get it nice and lubed up for me,” you say before popping your finger into your mouth and sucking your juices off it. You hear him spit, then moan, watching the slow drag of his fist over his cock, the way he squeezes the tip. “Don’t neglect your balls, Daddy, I know how much you like those played with.”

“Yeah? How about you get those pretty tits out for me, beautiful? Show Daddy how you like them played with,” he grunts, his free hand now cradling his balls, massaging them gently.

You quickly pull your top down, exposing your chest to him, smearing your spit and slick over one nipple, pinching and rolling it carefully between your fingers. “God, I wish you were here, Tim. Sucking on my tits, your beard scratching at my stomach, your big, thick fingers playing with my pussy.” You go back to rubbing your cunt, smearing your wetness all around, letting your fingers slip between your folds but not back inside—yet.

“How many you think you can take, baby girl? Three? Four?” Tim grunts as he squeezes his length. He squints at his phone. God, the screen is so small and it is so far away. Annoyed, he bends over to grab his phone, holding it on his thigh, and he hears her chuckle.

“What’s the matter—oh, god—can’t see Daddy?” His cock jerks in his hand when she jerks. She adjusts on the bed, and then he notices it. Something long and teal by her foot.

“What’s that, baby?” he mumbles, bringing the phone up closer to his face and squinting at the screen.

“What’s what?” she asks, opening her eyes and looking at him.

“That blue thing, there.” He points at it with his chin. She stops what she’s doing and looks down, then smiles. Oh. He knows that smile. That’s the same smile she had right before she sucked his cock yesterday.

“Oh, this?” she asks, holding it up. Her fingers wrap around the phallic shaft, and he eyes the bulbous end of it. “Just a little toy, Detective. Surprised you haven’t seen one before.”

Tim licks his lips. “Oh, I have, baby, that’s just a new color for this old man. Looks smaller than I remember, too.”

She presses on the side, and a light humming sound emits from his phone. “It packs a good little punch for its size.”

“Why don’t you be a good girl and show Daddy?” Her eyes flick to the side real quick and then back to him. “Everything okay?”

“Baby monitor for Cal, can’t have him bursting in here while I have my pussy on display now, can I?”

Tim chuckles. “Guess we better hurry then, huh?”

He watches as she puts the wand up to her breast, massaging her nipple with it. “I wish you were here, Tim, doing this to me instead of me doing it on my own,” she murmurs.

“One more day, sweetheart. You bring that thing, and I’ll do anything you want me to do with it.” Tim squeezed his base; he was so hard, so ready to come, but he wanted to prolong this feeling, wanted to see if he could come with her.

“I like that,” she switches sides. “But what do you want to do with it, Tim?”

Tim smiles. So she needed a little help here. He could do that. “Depends on how good you are at following instructions.”

She laughs. “I can be good.”

“Mmm, I like that. What I’d really love to do is lay you out naked on the bed, fuckin’ spread eagle.” She nods, her eyes half closed. “Lay down next to you, explore every inch of your body; with my hands, my mouth, that fun little toy you got there.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Everywhere but where you really want me,” he murmurs, fist moving slowly.

“Tim!” Her hand stills, and her eyes pop open.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what I like. Want you begging for me to touch you. Not gonna touch you until I’m ready. When you can’t handle it anymore, when you feel like you’re going to come at the lightest touch to that pretty pussy of yours.”

“Please, can I touch myself, Daddy?” She asks, her eyes big and pleading. Tim almost blows right there.

“Good girl. Spit on that fucking thing for Daddy and touch yourself, nice and slow.” He wanted to see how long he could make her squirm, even though he knew they were playing a dangerous game with Cal asleep in the other room, and her father somewhere in the house. Probably the living room, or the basement, catching up on the game like he said he was.

Her eyes flick to the side again, then she follows his instructions. Letting a line of spit fall from her pursed lips down to the head of the toy before lowering it down.

The fact that he said he wanted you to beg made you so fucking wet. You wanted to beg for him, you wanted him to beg for you; you’ll make him this weekend. But tonight you’d do what he wanted. You ease the wet toy around your folds, getting close to your clit but not touching it, your hips moving on their own, trying to get the toy where you desperately want it to be.

“There you go, baby, that’s it. Nice and slow, tease her.”

“Daddy…,” you whine, needing to be touched, your clit aching for attention.

“That’s what I like to hear. You know what I’m gonna do after I make you come?” You shake your head. “Going to make you keep coming. Over and over till she can’t take it no more, till you’re begging me to stop.”

“Fuck, Daddy, I want you right now.” Your legs tremble, you knew once that wand touched your clit you’d be a goner.

Tim makes a sympathetic noise. “I know, sweetheart, I want you too. See how much he wants you?” You watch as Tim’s camera flips, showing you his hard, leaking cock, his fist tight around it. “He’s about ready to burst.”

You lick your lips and moan. “I want him in my mouth. Want your cum shooting down my throat again.”

“Soon, baby. Soon. Are you close?” You fervently nod. “Good, good,” his voice cracks. “Fucking come for me, sweetheart.” His deep voice reverberates in your ear, and you nod, the vibrations so close to your clit, your stomach is already starting to tighten, and you ease the wand closer and closer.

Your body shudders, “Fuck Tim, I’m already—” You cover your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut as your orgasm overtakes you. Your thighs shake, and you feel your pussy clenching around nothing as you come. You hold the wand in place, your knees trying to close, but you keep them open with your elbows while you whine into your hand.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tim growls in your ear. “Look at me, baby. Look what you did to me.”

You pull the wand away from yourself with shaky hands, pressing the button to turn it off as you watch Tim’s cock jerk in his hand. His breathing is ragged in your ears, and he lets out a low moan as he comes, shooting ribbons of cum into the air and up onto his stomach.

“God damn,” he groans, hand squeezing his tip, working his thumb over his slit gently. “Wish you were here to clean up.”

Your chest heaves, and you relax your legs, letting yourself fall to the side, and then you roll to your back out of your wet spot. You both sit for a moment, breathing heavily in each other’s ears.

“Christ, what a mess,” Tim groans.

“Well,” you say, reaching over and grabbing your phone. “All you gotta do is change your shirt, I have to change my whole sheet.”

He chuckles, and it makes you feel warm. “I don’t envy you for that.”

“I better get going. I got work early,” you say, not wanting to hang up.

“Yeah…,” Tim says, also sounding like he didn’t want to hang up.

“Thank you for indulging me, Tim.”

He laughs again, and you smile. “Anytime, kiddo, anytime. Now get some sleep, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night, Tim.”

“Night, sweetheart. Love you.” And he quickly hangs up.

What.

WHAT?

No. Wait, deep breath.

He almost always says that. He said it yesterday when he left the barbecue. It meant nothing, at least, not like that. It’s a platonic love.

Right?

[clawdeewritesfanfic]

Daddy's Girl: Chapter 3

DBF!Tim Rockford / F!Reader

Rating: Explicit! MDNI! 18+ || Word Count: 4.3k+ || Beta: No beta, we die like Pedro Pascal's characters || AO3

In celebration of your new job, your father invites Tim over for a small 'family' barbecue.

Warnings/Tags: dads best friend/work partner, age gap, (reader late 20s/early 30s - Tim late 40's/early 50's), daddy kink, hidden relationship, pet names: kid, kiddo, sweetheart, little girl, baby girl, baby, my pretty girl, good girl, Daddy. Oral sex (m), swallowing, pierced nipples, nipple play, thigh grinding, stalker, talk of patricide (killing ones own father) || Only descriptors of Reader: reader's skin color/hair texture/body are not described, the only things you know about reader are that she is able-bodied, Tim can move her, she has nipple piercings, she's a cis-female, and she can have children. || Dividers: @saradika-graphics|| Tags: @littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @pedrostories @mountainsandmayhem @baronessvonglitter

Previous || Series Masterlist || Next

Tim stares at the photos in his hand, chewing on the inside of his lips. Slipped under his door in a manila envelope while he was showering or getting dressed; sometime in the last forty-five minutes.

Photos of him. In his car, in front of his apartment building, the precinct, his fucking favorite Chinese place.

Goddamn it. It was probably Patterson, he wasn’t sure how - he wasn’t allowed out of his house, and he was closely monitored. But it had to be. 

True, Tim has put away plenty of people who would love for nothing more than to scare him, but it was too coincidental. Sighing, he slides the photos back into the envelope and checks himself in the mirror once more.

He’d have to bring it up with John tonight. 

John had invited him over for dinner to celebrate his daughter’s first day at her new job. It was casual of course, barbecue in the backyard, beers, enjoying the spring weather.

Affixing his glasses to his face, Tim grabs his wallet, keys, phone, and the envelope before walking out.

Your thighs burn as you walk up the few stairs of the porch. Of course, there would be a false fire alarm at work. Of course, you would work on one of the top floors, and of course, you’d have to take the stairs down. Sighing, you push the front door open and limp over to the couch, throwing yourself down which was probably a mistake. Objects in motion tend to stay in motion, and now you don’t see yourself getting off the couch for the next three hours.

“Mom!” Callum’s tiny feet thunder down the stairs before he launches his body over the back of the couch and into your lap, giggling.

You wrap him in your arms around him, burning your face in his hair and taking a big whiff of little boy. Mmm, dirt and sweat. “How was school?”

“Mr. Atkins read a book about cows that go on the computer that was funny,” he giggles, remembering it. “Then me and Liam got in trouble for digging in the yard.”

“Callum!”

“I didn’t know we weren’t s’posed to!” he says loudly, agitated.

“Ok, that’s fair,” you say calmly, smoothing down his hair. “That’s my bad, never told you not to dig up your schoolyard,” you murmur more to yourself. “Did you eat your lunch?” He nods.

“And Poppy made me a snack when I got home, and I had a cookie—”

“And carrots, some apple, a few pieces of salami.” Your father finishes for him, walking in from the kitchen.

“I bet you ate the cookie first, huh?” You dig your fingers into his ribs and tickle, laughing with him as he squirms trying to get away from it. “That’s okay, I used to eat the cookie first too,” you whisper and release him.

Callum jumps from your lap with a smile, then turns to your father. “Poppy, can I go play with Uncle Tim now?” Your heart skips a beat at Tim’s name and you have to temper down your reaction.

“Yeah kiddo, go ahead.” Your father steps back, patting Cal’s head as he runs past him.

“Tim’s here?”

“Yeah! Figured we’d have a little family dinner to celebrate your first day.” He flops on the couch next to you, his hand on your knees. “How was it?”

“Ugh, not so bad. It’s just a bunch of sitting at a desk, spreadsheets, paperwork, water-cooler chat—which is nice. I guess. You know, coming from retail where I’m on my feet all day dealing with customers,” you make a face. “But then the fire alarm went off — a false alarm,” you inform him quickly. “and we had to keep the elevator clear for those who can’t take the stairs—”

“So you had to walk down all those stairs.” He finishes for you.

“Bingo Pops. Now I’m pooped.” You lean over into his side and close your eyes with a sigh.

He lays his cheek on top of your head. “Too pooped for your father’s barbecue?”

Your eyes pop open and you sit up. “Never, but I do have to shower first, wash the stink of corporate off, but I don’t think I can get up.”

“Come on,” your father stands and holds his hand out to you. “You need help up the stairs?”

Grabbing his hand, he pulls and you push yourself off the couch. “No, I think I got it. I shouldn’t be long.”

Fifteen minutes later, you traipse down the stairs, your legs aching, and head to the kitchen for some mana from heaven — ibuprofen.

Filling your emotional support water bottle with ice and fresh water, you toss back two of the little pills and wander out back.

Your father was at the picnic table, a bottle of beer in front of him, half gone, condensation pooled beneath it, and Cal and Tim were kicking around his newest ball you had picked up at the grocery store for him. Bright red with a picture of the Ninja Turtles on either side, it reminded you of the dodgeballs they used to have back when you were in school.

“Feeling a little better?” Your father turns to you asking.

“Yeah.” You nod, then look out to the yard watching Tim and Cal. Tim would kick the ball, angling it just so it would roll past Cal and down the long yard, making him laugh and chase it.

“I’m not over there Uncle Tim! I’m over here, silly!” He drops the ball into the grass, sees you, and runs over. “Mom!”

You watch as Tim turns, his eyes meeting yours, and he smiles. God, you adore the way his eyes crinkle, the deep laugh lines in his face, his dimple, and the way his beautiful brown eyes sparkle. He pushes his glasses up his nose and follows Cal, just not as excitedly.

“Hey there kid.” He walks over, giving you a side hug and kissing the top of your head. “Your dad told me about all the exercise you got today. How’d it go otherwise?” Tim folds his long body in next to you, pulling a bottle of beer from the ice bucket in the middle of the table for himself, and a Diet Coke for you that he sets next to your water bottle.

Cal climbs into your lap, reaching over for a chip from the snack tray, and you kiss his head before laying your cheek on his head and smiling at Tim. “It was…nice. A little boring, but the pay is good and I don’t have to deal with people a whole lot, just numbers—far more easier than people… they make more sense too.” Cal offers you a chip and you snag it from his hand with your mouth.

“People don’t make sense?” Cal asks, tilting his little head up towards you.

“Sometimes, baby.”

“Hey,” your dad raps his knuckles on the table. “I gotta go down to the Food Bazaar for a few things, you guys gonna be alright here?” He gives Tim a pointed look and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Can I go, Poppy?”

“I’m not drivin’, just walking little man. You up for that?” John gets up from the table, patting his pockets.

Cal thinks for a moment, grabs another chip, and slips from your lap. “I’m ready!”

“Hey, hey, hey.” You grab his little hand and spin him around, bending down so you’re face-to-face with him. “You hold Poppy’s hand when you’re walking, do not wander away from him in the store. Remember we do not talk to strangers, if you get separated in the store you find an employee, and if you get separated on the walk you do not move and you yell for Poppy.”

“I ‘member.” He nods, his eyes wide.

“And—” Cal cuts you off by reciting your cell number, something you and your father have drilled into him. You give him a big smile. “Good job, baby.”

“I got him, baby girl, don’t worry about us. Come on kid.” He holds his hand out to Cal, who takes it, and you watch them walk into the house, holding your breath. They walk to the grocery store all the time, it’s about ten minutes each way, depending on how tired Cal gets and how the foot traffic is, but nerves settle in your belly anyway as you hear the front door close and lock.

“You okay?” Tim places his hand on your shoulder.

“What?” You shake your head. “Yeah. Do you—do you think Dad knows? About us?”

Tim furrows his brows. “What makes you say that?”

You turn your body to face him, your knee touching his thigh, your body growing hot at just this tiny connection.“When he asked if we’d be okay here, he gave you a look.” 

Tim sighs. “He does not know about us.” He drops his hand to your knee and gives it a comforting rub. “But he does have something serious to talk to you about later after Cal goes to bed.”

“Is he ok?” You ask, voice shaking, worried for a different reason now.

“Yeah, of course. We just—” he grimaces and rubs the back of his neck. “A guy we put away got out of prison recently, he just wants to show you a picture and tell you to keep an eye out. He was pretty pissed at us back when we nabbed him.”

“Okay.” Leaning forward you quickly remove his glasses, tossing them gently on the table, and press your lips to his while grabbing a fistful of his Knicks shirt. “I missed you,” you whisper against his lips between kisses.

“Oh god.” He turns at his waist and grabs onto yours. “Wait.” He pushes you back. “We’re out in the open, should we really—”

“I don’t care. Dad and Callum are gonna be gone for at least twenty minutes, minimum. The neighbors mind their own business. Touch me, Tim.” He didn’t need to be told twice, he quickly got up from the table and sat back down the other way, his long legs facing outwards, stretching out in front of him. 

Excitedly, you straddle his lap, loop your arms around his neck, and wind your fingers in his hair where it curled over his collar. His big hands splay across your back, pushing you against his chest, and he claims your mouth with a groan. The kiss takes your breath away and sends pulses of heat racing through you. You kiss for a moment, and a thought crosses your mind. With a wicked smile, you pull back from Tim, grab the back of his shirt, and pull it over his head. You fight with it a little until you have his shirt off his body and in your hands; after a deep whiff, filling your nostrils with the scent of Tim, you toss it into the table behind you.

“Wha—”

“It’s okay Daddy,” you coo, scooting down his thighs and leaning forward, kissing his neck, that freckle under his ear, and move lower, your hands wandering across his broad body, smiling at the greys that now sprinkle his chest and his soft belly. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.” Your fingers play with the band of his basketball shorts.

“Sweetheart,” Tim says breathily, watching as you stand in front of him. You rip your shirt off, leaving you in a sports bra and shorts, you nudge his knees apart and ease yourself down between his thighs and into the grass.

“Yes? Daddy?” You look up at him, your eyes wide, fingers tracing the edge of his waistband.

“I-I…earlier I—” he gestures down to himself.

“Did you touch yourself, Daddy?” You tug at his waist and he lifts his hips for you, allowing you to expose his soft cock, the thatch of dark hair also sprinkled with greys. “Did you…” you lick your lips as you grab his sizeable, flaccid cock; gently squeezing it in your hands. “Think about me when you did it?”

“Thought about you wearing—ah!” He hisses when you lick up his shaft and press a kiss to a freckle at the bottom of his head. “God, you’ll be the death of me, little girl.”

“What was I wearing Daddy?” You ask before sucking his head into your mouth and stroking him.

“Another of those dresses—shit, yeah, keep doing that.” He places a hand on your head and adjusts on the bench as you lower yourself, taking more of him in. “Wanted to take you inside for another quickie, while John and Cal were out here.”

“Mmhmm?” You hum around him, encouraging him to go on as you bob your head slowly, feeling his head tickle the back of your throat.

He felt so good, his heavy, pliable cock filling your mouth, and soon, maybe, your throat. Playing with his balls, you lightly drag the nails of your other hand along his chest, running them over his pebbled nipples.

“Shit, fuck!” Tim groans. “Your fucking mouth. Been a long time since I went twice in one day. I don’t know if—”

“Does it feel good?” You stroke his spit-covered member.

“Yeah,” he croaks out.

“And you taste so good, Daddy. You don’t gotta get hard or come again...I just want to enjoy you. Keep talking, tell me.” You take him back into your mouth, sucking on his head and running your tongue over the tip.

Tim squirms beneath you but takes a deep breath. “Wanted to take you up to that bathroom, where I first heard you.” You lower your head once more, his cock sliding to the back of your throat, the head settling there. “Sit that ass of yours down on the—oh God.” You swallow around him, come up, and slowly bob your head, swallowing the head when your nose is pressed against his soft, freckled tummy. The heady scent of Tim, the weight of him in your mouth, the dampness of your panties—it all makes a girl’s head swim. “Wanted to—uh—sit you on that counter, suck on those pretty titties of yours, see if I can get you off that way.”

You look up at him, the tip of his cock in your mouth, and nod. You wrap your hand around his shaft, feeling him start to swell, and take him back down. Lowering your hand, you cradle his balls, the tip of your pointer finger running back and forth along his perineum.

“Can’t believe you’re getting him back up, baby girl. Fuckin’ miracle mouth on you, huh?” Tim’s voice is full of reverence, and you smile. His cock swells in your mouth, stretching your lips wide, growing down your throat, but you don’t pull off him. You don’t want to, you want to hold him in your mouth until he comes down your throat.

Tim cradles your jaw and pulls you up off him, coughing you take a deep breath. “Baby, take a breath. Come on, good girl.” His thumbs brush the tears at your cheeks as his eyes slowly move over your face, his concern turning to lust as he stops on your swollen lips. “Look at you, my pretty girl,” he murmurs, thumb moving across your lips spreading spit across them. “How you feeling? You hot and bothered? Soaking your pretty panties for me?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You nod and clench your thighs together trying to relieve some pressure.

“Daddy’s close to bursting, so you make Daddy come, and then he’ll help you come if you can be quick about it.”

You grin, grabbing him in your hand once more. “Gonna come in my mouth, Daddy?” Looking down at his gorgeous cock you see a spot of pre-cum on the tip and bend forward to lick it off. Swirling the minuscule amount around in your mouth you moan. His come even tasted good. “It’s so good, Daddy.”

“Yeah? Made it just for you baby, an’ there’s lots more waiting for you. Now come on, we don’t have much time.”

You take him back in your mouth, now fully hard, your mouth stretches around him and his head slides past your uvula. You bob, making sure to pull off and take a breath now and then.

“There you go baby, Christ. Can’t wait to get you alone, and not have to rush.” You close your eyes and moan around him. “Come on kiddo, look at me when I fill your mouth,” Tim says, his voice strangled. You can feel his stomach tighten under your palm, and you look up at him, tears trickling down your face. “So pretty for me.”

He comes with a soft grunt, his body relaxing under your touch as ropes of salty cum shoot into your mouth and slide down your throat. Holding just the tip in your mouth, you slowly jerk him, trying to get every last drop from his balls until he pulls you off him.

He grabs the paper towels from behind himself and wipes your mouth and chin carefully before he cleans off his already softening dick and pulls his shorts back up.

“Come here, baby,” he whispers, patting his bare thigh. “Let Daddy help your poor little cunt.”

You clamber into his lap, straddling his thigh, and loop your arms around his neck again. “Will we have time?” You ask, slowly moving your hips, rubbing your aching pussy against him

“We’ll have time, show Daddy those pretty titties again baby girl.” You comply, pulling the band of your sports bra up over them, and Tim immediately covers them with his big hands, massaging them and plucking at your nipples.

Muscles tighten in your core and you gasp, leaning forward, angling your clit just right. “Oh God Daddy, it feels so good.” Your hips move in small, slow circles.

“Yeah, you gonna come like this? Fully clothed, rubbing against me?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan, nodding weekly. You nuzzle his neck, pressing your open, panting mouth against his sweaty skin.

“Come on baby,” his hands move to your hips and press you down, but still allowing you to set the pace.

“Ah!” You gasp, the added pressure making your stomach clench, pleasure coiling up.

“Can’t wait to get you alone, gonna lay you out naked in the bed, make you come so much you’ll be seeing stars,” Tim grunts in your ear and kisses the side of your head. “Gonna make this pretty lil’ pussy of yours sore, you’ll be begging me to stop.” You can’t form words, all you can do is nod. “Yeah? You like that? My hands, my mouth, my cock. Gonna use ‘em all on you. Gonna suck the coating off those naughty little piercings of yours too. God, they’re so gorgeous.”

The coil snaps, and you bury your face against his skin, muffling yourself as you come. Your legs shake, and Tim just holds onto you, making soothing noises as he rubs your back; and pulls your sports bra back down carefully over your breasts.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” he whispers. “Can’t wait to hear your pretty sounds unmuffled.”

You let out a huff of laughter and sit up, your eyes starting to unglaze, and you grab his face and kiss him. It was soft, sensual, and—loving. You break the kiss and lean back. Where did that come from?

You check your watch and see that at least twenty minutes have passed already. “I should go clean up before they get back,” you say quickly.

“Don’t forget your shirt.” Tim reaches behind himself as you carefully get up from his lap, your legs a little wobbly.

“And yours. Uh, I’ll just tell Dad that I spilled my coke, if he asks about my wardrobe change,” you mutter, holding your shirt to your chest and getting a faint whiff of Old Spice.

Tim watches as she rushes off into the house, pulling her shirt on over her head. He frowns. What went wrong? Everything was going so very, very well, and then she kissed him, and god what a kiss it was, and then she just…shut down. He sits, fingertips on his tingling lips as he looks up to where he knows her bedroom is and shakes his head.

He quickly puts his shirt on, looking around, seeing if anyone has seen. Shit, that was a mistake, doing this in the fucking yard. But she had tasted so good and looked so fucking pretty on her knees looking up at him.

“Shit,” he whispers, grabbing the paper towels again, pulling another off, and wiping off her slick from his thigh. He grabs the wad of them, and throws them out in the garbage in the house, burying them under the empty box of foil that was on top.

He goes back out to the picnic table, picks up his beer, finishes it, and notices that her Coke isn’t even open. Shit. He quickly opens it, drinks a good bit of it, then spills a little bit of it on the table, quickly cleaning it up and going to toss that in the garbage just as the front door opens.

“Uncle Tim!” Callum runs into the house and straight to him. “Look what I got! Where’s mom?” He holds up a five-pack of Hot Wheels and looks around the kitchen.

Tim kneels next to him. “Wow, look at those, buddy. You know I had this one when he was younger.” He points to a dark blue Monte Carlo.

“I wanna show mom!”

“She’s upstairs, had a little accident with her Coke, she’ll be down in a minute.”

“Everything okay?” John asks, setting down the bags. Silently checking in. ‘Did you see Patterson? Or anyone watching you?’

“We were just yapping, and her Coke spilled everywhere. She went upstairs to clean up, I wiped down the table.” We made each other come, and I think I did something wrong because she panicked and ran. “How was your walk?” Tim asks back.

“It’s a lovely day for a walk.” He empties the bags and tosses the new roll of foil to Tim. “Here, butter and wrap the corn. Top shelf. Cal, go check on your mom.”

After a delicious dinner, Tim had left, and Callum had gone to bed, you sit out back at the picnic table with your father, finishing off the tray of snacks, and the one beer you allowed yourself.

“So,” you start, picking at the label on your beer. “Tim said you had something to talk to me about?”

Your father sighs, finishes off his beer, and reaches for another. “Do you remember Ray Patterson? ‘Bout twenty years ago? The first guy Tim and I put away together?”

You nod. “That was a big case for you. If I recall correctly, he murdered his father in a fit of rage.” You sigh, remembering the details. “They had gotten into so argument, and Ray just…beat the shit outta him. Killed him. Ran away, cleaned himself up, came home to ‘find’ the body, called the cops, and reported a break-in after messing things up around the house.”

John nods as you talk. “He did a damn good job of it too, had us fooled for a while.” He takes a long pull. “But uh, he was released earlier in the week. Par—”

“What?!” You thunk your beer down and lean towards him. “It was murder two. He shouldn’t be getting parole for another couple of years!”

“That’s what we said! But apparently, since it was a ‘crime of passion’, and he’s all out of parents to kill, they didn’t think he was a danger to the general public. He’s been a model inmate since he was put in juvie, he’s found God,” you snort at that and your dad chuckles. “He’s on house arrest right now, ankle monitor, surprise check-ins with his PO.”

“But…”

“But, he was plenty pissed at us when we put him away. And,” your father digs under the snack plate and drops a manila envelope in front of you. “Tim and I got these. His slipped under his front door, mine were under my windshield wipers.”

With a shaky hand, you pick up the envelope and shake the contents out. Pictures of Tim in front of his apartment and the precinct, a restaurant. Then pictures of your father in front of the house, driving his car, on one of his many walks to the Food Bazaar. Your breath stops as you look at one picture. You, hand in hand with Callum, walking to the bus stop.

“This was last week. Thursday.” You hold the picture of you and Callum up. “Dad, what the fuck.”

“The last picture is the most recent picture we have of Patterson. I know you gotta work, and Callum has to go to school, but try to keep trips that aren’t those to a minimum and keep your eyes open kiddo.”

“I had plans with Sandra this weekend.” You didn’t, but she was your coverup for going to Tim’s.

“I know, take your gun.”

“I can still go?” You look up, surprised

“You know how to handle yourself, Cal will be with Dean, and I’ll be home if Dean needs me. You take your weekend with Sandra and your gun.” He reminds you again. “I have his PO checking on him both days.”

Naughty, Naughty Detective

Tim stares at the note slipped under his door while he was out. Typed and printed on plain white paper, it could have come from anywhere and it’d be a massive pain in the ass to track. With his luck, it was from one of the colleges or a public library, one of the thousands of office buildings. Sighing, Tim tosses the plastic baggie he had it in away from him and leans back on the couch. Fuck. Someone was watching them in the backyard.

[clawdeewritesfanfic]

Daddy's Girl: Chapter 2

DBF!Tim Rockford / F!Reader

Rating: Explicit! MDNI! 18+ || Word Count: 3.7k+ || Beta: @itsokbbygrlbutworsethistime || AO3

You head over to Tim's with a specific plan in mind - to get his fat cock down your throat. Unfortunately (fortunately?), best-laid plans, and all that jazz.

Warnings/Tags: dads best friend, age gap, (reader late 20s/early 30s - Tim late 40's/early 50's), daddy kink, pet names: kiddo, sweetheart, kid, little girl, young lady, Daddy. Smut, oral sex (f), pierced nipples, nipple play (?), brief ass eating (f), brief vaginal fingering, cockblocked by father (and bad guys), blue vulva, masturbation (m, f), and brief drug mention. || Only descriptors of Reader: The person in the mood board is only for aesthetics: reader's skin color/hair texture/body are not described, the only things you know about reader are that she is able-bodied, Tim can move her, she's a cis-female, she can bake, she visits her public library (as should you), and she can have children. || Dividers: @saradika-graphics || Tags:  @littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @pedrostories || Tagging bc they liked the first one so much: @mountainsandmayhem @baronessvonglitter

Previous || Series Masterlist || Next

Tim’s cock sits hard and heavy in his hand as he squeezes, slowly dragging his fist up and down as the shower beats down on him.

It’s been nearly a week and he can’t stop thinking about her. Her taste, her sounds, how she felt in his hands and around his cock.

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t. His partner’s daughter, nearly twenty years younger than him… but God she wanted it as much as he did. She’s been wanting it longer. He knows it’s wrong. He watched her grow up for Christ’s sake. Put band-aids on her skinned knees, fucking babysat her when John and Vivianne went on dates, and let her climb on his back and ride him like a pony back when his knees were still good.

But now he wants her to ride him; wants to watch the ecstasy on her face as she comes all over his cock, watch her breasts and stomach jiggle as she bounces, whispering his name, or God help him - calling him Daddy again.

He never thought he’d be into that. He always thought it was silly when he heard other women giggle about it, but then the word slipped from her sinful mouth and that’s all he ever wanted to hear.

He thinks about how she called him Daddy as she came, first around his fingers, then around his cock. He squeezes harder now, trying once again to replicate that feeling—how tight she had felt when she came, her pussy milking every last ounce from him, her own Daddy just down the hall, coulda walked in at any time. Could have seen Tim balls deep in his precious little girl, bent over his desk with Tim holding her down, her pretty dress pushed up around her waist.

“Fuck,” he grits out as he spills against the tile, cock twitching in his grip as he slowly milks himself, letting the shower wash his cum down the drain; just like it has daily for the past week. “Fuck,” he says again, leaning his forehead against the cool tile.

Smoothing down your dress, you bring your hand up to knock nervously before placing it on the bottom of the still-warm pie dish with the other to keep from fidgeting. You hope you don’t look like a horny fool.

He hasn’t called or shown up since that day, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him; about his hands on your body, his cock inside your pussy. God, you want to put his soft cock in your mouth and feel him grow down your throat. You close your eyes and suppress a moan, squeezing your thighs together, feeling them slide against each other from the slickness already dripping down.

The door swings open, and there he is, fresh from the shower. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says gently, running a towel over his wet hair, his soulful eyes taking in your face. “What brings you over?” He steps back, allowing you space to step into his apartment.

“I, uh, brought you this,” you hold the pie up. “Cal and I went cherry picking over the weekend and we came back with more than we could eat, and I, uh, had an extra pie and I remembered how much you liked cherry.”

You step into his apartment slowly. He had moved places since the last time you’d been to his place. You recognize most of the furniture, but he has some nice, new pieces that fit his vibe. The faint sound of a Fleetwood Mac song ending comes from his record player against the wall.

“It looks beautiful, kiddo.” But he wasn’t looking at the dessert you’re holding. You feel your face heat up as he slips the pie dish from your hands. “An’ look at that, still nice and…warm.” He wets his bottom lip before turning towards his small kitchen.

You watch appreciatively at the way his gray sweats clung to his ass and how good he looked in that black t-shirt, how it clung real nice to his freckled biceps. You remember when you first really saw them, you were 15, and he had come over to help your father with something, your memory was hazy about what, you just remember his arms, how sweaty he got, and the way he was grunting. You had humped your pillow imagining it was those delicious arms that night, not even wondering until you were staring at your ceiling later that night trying to sleep if that was weird. They were just arms.

Following, you watch as he places the pie on the counter, grips it, and leans forward. “We can’t keep doing this.” The words are spoken softly.

You stop in the doorway, hands fidgeting. “Doing what?”

Tim sighs. “It ain’t…right, what we’re doing. Wha-what I did to you.” He scrubs his face. “You’re my partner’s kid, I’ve known you since you were knee height. Fuckin’ twenty years older than you.” He doesn’t look at you, his eyes stay glued to the pie on the counter, standing there like he’s waiting for you to leave, sighing and biting his lip. But you weren’t going to give up that easily.

“I was not knee height when I was 10, Tim.” You walk into the room, sliding your hand along his back. “I’m an adult, you didn’t force me, you didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want done,” you say gently. “I wanted it—wanted you, Tim. And you wanted me too.” You reach out, cup his jaw, and turn his face towards you. “Do you still want me, Daddy?”

“Sweet, wonderful you

You make me happy with the things you do”

Tim guides you backward, his hands at your hips, mouth connected to yours as you kiss, tongues dancing around each other as Christine McVie croons from his record player. The back of your knees hit the couch, and you tumble backward, pulling Tim with you as you giggle. He catches himself with one hand to not completely squish you, but his hard body is still heavy on top of you. His hips grind down into yours, his hands slowly pull your dress up while his mouth traces your jaw and teases down the column of your neck.

“No marks,” you quietly remind him. Cal was at that age where he questioned everything, and your father knew what hickeys were.

Tim laughs against your chest, his warm breath raising goosebumps on your flesh. “No visible marks,” he murmurs, dragging the top of your dress down to expose your breasts. He pauses for a moment, and you smile, knowing why. “Shit,” he breathes. “Gonna ask a real dumb question here, kid. There anything I shouldn’t do to ‘em?”

“Besides the obvious of don’t pull them out?” you joke, stroking his hair gently. “Just be gentle, don’t crack a tooth on ‘em.”

“This is new for me, so you tell me if I’m too rough, alright kiddo?”

“Of course, but I don’t think—” He pulls one of your pebbled nipples into his mouth and sucks. Gasping, your body slouches down as you arch into his mouth. One of Tim’s arms encircles your waist and maneuvers the both of you on the couch, putting your head on the arm and laying your body out for him, fitting his body between your thighs.

“Thought there’d be a taste,” he mutters before sucking a mark into the underside of your breast. You squeal and giggle at the sensation, hands sliding through his still-wet hair, you tangle your fingers in his locks and try to push his head lower.

Tim chuckles, moves to your other breast, and pulls that nipple into his mouth, teeth circling it, flicking the piercing with his tongue. “Tim!”

He sits up and pecks your lips. “Nuh-uh little girl, you know what to call me.” His hand glides up your thigh, under your dress, every so slowly, savoring your silky smooth skin. He hisses in a breath when his hand meets bare hip and he growls out your name. “Where are your panties, young lady?”

Looking up at him with wide innocent eyes, you blink, a Cheshire smile on your lips. “In my car, Daddy.”

“Naughty fucking girl, not wearing any panties under her pretty dress,” Tim growls once more, his hand moving to the apex of your thighs, his fingers sliding through your folds easily with how wet you were.

“Daddy,” you sigh, threading your fingers through his thick hair. “I wanted—”

“What did you want, sweetheart? What can Daddy do for you?” He murmurs against your breast before taking it in his mouth again.

You adjust on the couch and look down your body at him. “I wanted—” Tim’s teeth scrape against your delicate skin. “I came over to–fuck,” you sigh and lean back as he moves down between your legs.

“Later baby girl, I’ve been thinking about doing this all week, just got done in the shower jerking off thinking about this.” He parts your lips with his massive thumbs and licks. His lips wrap gently around your clit and he sucks.

“Oh God, oh fuck.” Clutching his hair with one hand, your other comes up, grabbing the arm of the couch and holding on. Your nails scratch against his scalp, against the leather of the couch, and your hips inch their way up on their own, trying to get closer and closer to Tim’s mouth.

His tongue flicks expertly against your clit, pulling moans from deep inside you.

“You taste so good, even better than I remember,” he sighs, pulling off your clit and looking up at you. “How long do I have?”

“What?” Dazed you look down at him with bleary eyes.

“Daddy wants to take his time with you, sweetheart. Do you have anywhere you need to be? Did you tell John you’d be home at a certain time?”

“Oh, uh,” palm to your forehead you close your eyes and think. “Cal gets off the school bus around 3:20, but Dad should be home; I just told him I was bringing the pie over, probably going to the library.”

“So I have time,” Tim mutters while kissing the inside of your thigh.

“Yes, God yes, please. Take your time Daddy.” You absentmindedly scratch at his head, delighted in the moans he lets out against your cunt. “You know, I came over here to blow you. That’s all I’ve been thinking about since the other day.”

“Yeah? That why you came over in this short little dress, tits practically spilling out, slick dripping down your legs with a bare pussy?” Teeth sink into your thigh and you gasp, a zing of pleasure hits you right in your center at the growl in his voice, at the way he chastised you. “Think you came over for more than that, kiddo.”

“Is that so bad?” You wiggle beneath him, a smile splaying across your face.

“No,” he growls before diving back into your cunt, lapping at your entrance, his fingers probing.

Head lolling back, your fingers grip his hair, and your hips move on their own, chasing his mouth each time he moves. Tim’s free hand adjusts, moving to cup your ass and lift you, parting your cheeks as he does so. Then his tongue moves down, swiping across your asshole, tasting, teasing.

“Oh!” Your body jerks as he does so, the sensation new to you, but not unpleasant.

“This okay?” Tim asks, his tongue taking another swipe.

“Y-yeah. Just…new.”

“You telling me this old dog is teaching you a new trick, kiddo?” Tim chuckles against you, your body melting in his hands, his tongue laving over your puckered hole, pressing against it. A few more licks and then he moves back up, his tongue working through your folds, your body vibrating with pleasure. A weird noise breaks through the quiet of the living room, loud enough to be heard over your moans, and the sound of Tim’s mouth on you.

“Tim?” You gently push his head. “What is that?”

“Just my cell, don’t worry about it,” he murmurs.

You strain your ears, the phone must be towards the back of the apartment. “Is that…the Colombo theme song? It’s Dad’s favorite show.” You don’t know why you mention it, it just pops out.

“Ignore it, it’ll stop.”

It does, after a beat, and you try to get back into it, Tim’s tongue doing wonders on your cunt, a finger slipping into you, curving up. But it starts up again shortly after it ends.

“Tim, I can’t—” you start, sitting up and pulling his face to yours. “Just go answer it,” you say, pressing a kiss to his mouth and tasting yourself on his lips.

Tim sighs. “Don’t go anywhere kiddo, I’m not done.” He kisses you back and then huffs as he gets off the couch heading to the back of the apartment. You wouldn’t dream of going anywhere, not when you knew that man was coming back for you. “I was laying down for a nap John, why? What’s going on?” You sit up as Tim walks back into the room and points at the phone ‘Your dad’ he mouths. Hands clutching the back of the couch, you watch as he listens, hand on his hip, eyes closed. “Yeah ok, I can get ready and meet you down at the precinct in like, half an hour? What?” His eyes pop open. “You’re here? Now?” He rushes to his living room window and looks out, running his hand hurriedly through his hair. You stand, grab your purse from the coffee table, and head to the door. Tim whips around, shaking his head and pointing to the back of the apartment. “Yeah, yeah John, I’ll start getting ready now.” He hangs up, tosses the phone on the desk, puts his big hand on your lower back, and rushes you to his bedroom.

“He’s here now?” You echo quietly back at him as you step into his room. The room is done up in dark woods and light natural colored fabrics, accenting the old brick wall that his leather headboard rests against.

“Walking up the stairs as we speak,” Tim says, digging through his dresser drawers and throwing clothes onto the bed.

“Ok, so I can just leave. Pass him on the stairs, he knew I was coming over—”

“You’ve been here too long for a simple drop off, he’ll be suspicious. Just—” Tim walks over, grabs your hand, and places a key in it, “here. Once we leave, wait 5-10 minutes, then you can leave, and lock up behind yourself.”

“Alright.” You clutch the key in your hand and nod, biting your lip.

He steps in front of you, grabbing your hand with his. “Listen, kiddo, I’ll make it up to you, ok? But there’s a break in our case, I have to go, and I need you to stay here — to not run into your father until I figure things out.” His thumb brushes your skin. “Do you have any free time coming up?”

“Cal’s going to his dad’s next weekend,” you offer up with a lift of your shoulder.

Tim nods. “Alright, good. Keep the key, we’ll make plans for next weekend, finish up what we were doing today, maybe do a few—” Knocking from the front of the apartment interrupts him. Tim grabs your shoulders and moves you over towards the closet door. “Stay here.” Then he’s gone.

You fidget with the key, listening to Tim open the front door, and the murmuring of his and your fathers’ voices, then Tim’s soft footsteps as he makes his way back to the room, with a yell of “I just gotta get dressed, 5 minutes!” tossed out as he steps back into the room, closing the door behind him.

You stand in the corner, purse and key clutched in your hands, thighs pressed together, watching as Tim changes quickly into his work attire. His broad back tapers down to his small waist, and you can see the way his full balls hang between his thick thighs. Freckles dot him from head to toe and you want to press your lips to each and every one of them.

“Can you grab a tie for me?” Tim whispers, nodding his chin to the closet behind you as he buttons up his white dress shirt. “They’re on the inside of the door.” You grab one, they’re already knotted, ready to go. He walks over reaching for the tie, but you shake your head.

“Let me,” you whisper, reaching up and slipping the tie over his head slowly, adjusting his collar, and tightening it for him. You rest your hands on his chest and bite your lip. Sliding your hands up, you cup the back of his neck and pull him down to you for a kiss. It’s soft and slow, tongues playfully dancing around each other, his hands gripping your waist, holding you against him.

“Timmy come on! Let’s go! Need me to come in there and dress you?” Your father shouts from the other side of the bedroom door.

“I’m coming, keep your pants on!” Tim yells toward the door, and sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. “Next weekend. We’ll go someplace for a few days of uninterrupted fun, is that okay?”

You nod, pull your hands back, and step back from him. “Just so you know, before I leave here, I’m getting myself off in your bed.” His eyebrows raise. “You can’t just eat me out like that, not let me come, and expect anything else, Daddy.”

Tim groans and kisses your forehead. “Naughty girl, making me hard before I go catch a bad guy.”

Smiling, you pat his chest. “Be safe.”

“Always am kiddo.”

Burying your face in Tim’s pillow, you take a deep inhale and roll your tired, spent body over. After Tim and your father left, you had waited, checked to make sure your Dad’s car was gone, and then slipped naked into Tim’s bed. Surrounded by Tim’s scent, you got yourself off twice thinking about him being there with you, that the pillow you set up at your back was his warm, broad, chest as his arm wrapped around your waist as he slid in and out of you.

You shake yourself, you can’t allow yourself to linger in Tim’s bed for too long. With Dad out of the house, you had to be home for Callum, and you still had to run to the library real quick and grab a book so you wouldn’t be lying to your father about another thing. You hated lying to him about this, but what would you tell him ‘Hey daddy, I’m boinking your partner? We’re just friends with benes it’s fine.’ But also…did you just want to be friends with benefits with Tim?

You’ve been crushing on him for the majority of your life, he’s been crushing on you for nearly your whole adult life. You knew he was a good man, he was good with Callum, and your dad liked him. You huff out a laugh at that. Probably wouldn’t like him too much after he finds out about the two of you.

Slipping out of his bed, you put your dress back on, pick up Tim’s discarded clothes, shake them out, and put them nicely at the end of the bed. He’ll want to change back into them when he gets home. Grabbing your purse and the key you head out.

You pass a few people as you head out. A little old lady and her dog, a bike messenger that heavily smelled of pot, and a man with a baby strapped to his chest. It was busy for a building with only 4 floors.

Outside on the sidewalk, you pull your phone out of your purse to find a few calls from your father, and finally a text.

John: Break in case. Getting Tim and going. Hopefully won’t be late - have dinner w/o me.

You: sry daddy, was in library, heading home now, be safe <3

Tim sits, his eyes closed, the smell of her still on his mustache. He tries to think about anything but her. He was in a car with her father for Christ’s sake, he couldn’t fucking pop a boner, John would ask questions, teasingly demanding answers about who he was thinking about. He’s been on Tim about finding a girlfriend for a while now; he’d murder him if he found out he found his daughter. Though technically they weren’t together, just…fucking. No, that sounded crass. He grimaces and adjusts in his seat. But it was what they were doing, wasn’t it? Did he want it to be more?

“Hey, you hear Patterson got out?”

Tim startles. “What? How’d he get out, I thought he still had a few years?”

“Model fucking behavior both in juvie and prison. He’s out on house arrest, medicated, got an ankle monitor, and surprise check-ins with his PO.”

“Let me guess, he also found God?”

“Ding ding ding ding! Give that man his prize!” John’s phone beeps. “Your prize is checking that for me. I messaged her when I left to come get you, so that’s probably her.” Her. John had asked about you when Tim got in the car, asking if you got there ok, when you left, ‘Oh, she wasn’t here long, just dropped off the pie then off to the library, you know her.’

Tim grabs the phone and wakes it, seeing the message from you on the home screen without having to unlock it. His heart pounds at the use of the word ‘daddy’. He knows you’re not talking to him, but to your actual father, but still.

“She says she was in the library,” He reads out loud, John chuckles and flicks on the blinker. “She’s heading home now, be safe.” Tim reads and then puts the phone back in the cup holder.

“Good, good. I’m going to see if I can get a recent picture of Patterson for her, hell for all of us. It’s been fifteen years, who knows what he looks like now, and he’s still gotta be pissed at us.”

[clawdeewritesfanfic]

Daddy's Girl

DBF!Tim Rockford x Female!Reader

Rating: Explicit!MDNI!18+ || Word Count: 2k+ || AO3

Your dad's best friend and partner (and your crush since childhood), comes over while your father is running errands.

Warnings/Tags: dads best friend, age gap, (reader late 20s/early 30s - Tim late 40's/early 50's), daddy kink, pet names: kiddo, kid, little girl, sweetheart, reader briefly mentions the first time she touched herself (no age mentioned but def underage bc kids start YOUNG) smut, hickies, vaginal fingering, brief oral sex (f), vasectomy protected vaginal sex, gotta be quiet :)  || Only descriptors of Reader: has a son, single, wears dresses, cis female || dividers by: @saradika-graphics | Tagging to add to the databases:  @littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @pedrostories || Beta'd by: @jennaispunk

Series Masterlist || Next

Bc they requested to be tagged: @mountainsandmayhem @sawymredfox || Written for: @hellishjoel 's Hot DILF Summer Challenge!

“Hey sweetheart, your daddy home?”

A smile stretches across your face as you take Tim in. “Tim, hi! No, unfortunately not, he's running errands.” You step back from the door. “You're welcome to come in and wait, he shouldn't be gone too long.”

He smiles back and nods. “Think I'll take you up on that,” he says, pressing a kiss to your head, his hand on your hip as he slips by you. You catch a whiff of him as he brushes past, cigarettes, coffee, and the unmistakable scent of Old Spice; a scent you've associated with him since you were a little girl.

You wouldn't dare admit that as a teen you would sneak a whiff of the deodorant when you went grocery shopping, that when you were old enough you bought your own and kept it in your underwear drawer, pulling it out when you touched yourself thinking about him. That you chose all your boyfriends because they smelt like him.

You smooth your dress and take a deep breath as you close the door. “I was just making coffee, would you like some?”

“I'd love some kiddo, you always make the best coffee, missed it when you moved away.”

You laugh as you move through the living room towards the kitchen. “Any coffee that's not from the precinct is the ‘best’ coffee to you, Tim.”

“No! I really mean it, yours is the best.” You know he's just being nice but your face still heats up. “Where's your little one?” Tim asks, sitting down at the table.

You pull two mugs from the cupboard and the cream from the fridge for yours. “He's with his dad for the week. I think Dean said he was taking him to the zoo today.” You pour the coffee, adding a splash of cream to yours before setting Tim's mug in front of him.

“This is a pretty dress,” he remarks, fingers pinching the hem.

“Thank you!” You look down at the dress, put your coffee down, and do a little twirl. “Cal calls it my princess dress because it poofs up when I spin. And,” you hold up a finger, “it has pockets!” Shoving your hands in the pockets you spread them, lifting the dress.

“Careful there sweetheart,” Tim chuckles then winks at you, “unless you planned on flashing your pretty panties at me.”

Your face heats up and you put your hands down quickly, ripping your hands from your pockets and sitting down. “Sorry,” you say quickly.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” He takes a sip from his mug. “How'd you know that was my favorite color?” He tilts his mug to you and licks his bottom lip slowly. “Looks real good on you.” 

You stare at him with wide eyes, your face growing warmer as his eyes look you up and down. “Yeah?” 

He tastes like coffee you think as he pushes you against your father's study door. You moan into his mouth, hands clutching onto his holster as you try to pull him closer.

“Been wantin’ to do this for damn near ten years sweetheart,” he rasps, hands groping at your chest.

“Yeah?” You smile and nip his bottom lip.

“You had just graduated college, your daddy was throwin’ you a party, and then you slipped away, upstairs.” You remember that day. Tim had looked so good, and despite having a serious boyfriend, you took yourself upstairs for a quick moment alone, with the stick of Old Spice. “Someone spilled something, and your mom asked me to get some towels from the linen closet right next to the upstairs bathroom, and I could just hear ya in there, moanin’ and whinin’, tryin’ to be quiet.” His hand covers the front of your panties, forefinger running up and down your cotton-covered seam, making you whine. “Was I on your dirty mind then?”

“Mmhmm,” you moan, arching your back against the wall as his finger traces around your clit. “You were my first crush - no wait I take it back, I think Kovu the lion was my first crush - but you were my first human crush,” you say breathlessly bringing a hand up to cup the back of his neck. “You were who I thought of when I first touched myself.”

“Filthy girl,” he growls, tilting your head back and kissing your throat, all tongue and teeth, his mustache scratching against your delicate skin. “Want me to fuck you right here? Right in your daddy's office? He could be home any minute,” he murmurs against your skin, finger tracing light circles around you. You can feel your cunt clench around nothing as the words leave his lips.

“Please?” you beg, squirming under his skillful finger.

“Please, what?” He applies more pressure and rubs faster, his breath fanning across your neck. You can feel his hard cock digging into your thigh.

You sigh happily, your stomach starting to tense. “Please make me come. Fuck me, Tim, right here in daddy's office,” you whimper, grinding against his hand.

“Looks like you're already fucking my hand kiddo. Let me help you out, yeah?” he coos, slipping his hand into your panties, the pads of his fingers slipping past your clit and traveling lower. “God you're so wet.” 

“All for you Dadd--” your eyes pop open as the word starts to leave your mouth. “I-I’m sorry.”

Tim chuckles and kisses you. “No, I like that, I am your Daddy. So be good for Daddy, alright sweetheart?” 

You giggle, light-headed as his fingers slip into you easily and he starts pumping, his thumb brushing across your clit. “Oh God, fuck Daddy,” you whimper, holding onto his holster with both hands.

“Such a dirty mouth on you sweetheart,” Tim chuckles. “But we ain't got time to see how dirty. Today.”

Your head swims as you think about sucking Tim off. “Harder Daddy, I'm so close,” panting, you grip his holster harder and ride his hand.

“That so? Well come on, get yourself off little girl,” he coos into your ear, “you can do it, I know you can.” He presses a kiss to your forehead and then you bury your face in the nape of his neck, breathing him in.

“Oh fuck, fuck.” You hump his hand harder, you were so close, you just needed... “Can I get another finger Daddy?” you whisper into his neck. “Please?”

“Mmhmm,” Tim hums and you feel the digit slip in stretching you. “Good girl, feel so fucking tight.”

“Fuck, yes, thank you, Daddy,” you cry, moving yourself slowly at first, letting your body adjust to the stretch. You kiss his neck, then pull down his collar, running your tongue along his sweat-soaked skin. Once it's pulled down far enough to where nothing will show, you suction your lips to his shoulder and suck as your orgasm rolls through you warmly.

“Fuck sweetheart, can feel you squeezing me,” he whispers. “Can't wait to feel you around my cock.”

“Can't wait to feel your fat cock in me, Daddy,” you moan as he slips his fingers from you and brings them to his mouth sucking your slick off them quickly.

“Take your panties off and bend over that desk.” He points to it with one hand and undoes his belt with the other.

You look behind you with fuzzy eyes. “The desk?” the words come out high-pitched.

“That's what I said,” he says, pushing his slacks down. “Gonna bend that perfect ass over, and fuck you on your daddy's desk.”

You nod and rush over to the desk, quickly clearing off a you-sized space, flipping the picture of your father and you face down on the desk, and then slide your damp underwear down.

“What's the matter kiddo,” Tim purrs as he steps behind you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against him, “don't want your daddy watchin’ his little girl get fucked?” His bare cock nestles between your ass cheeks and you whimper in his grasp, he is so thick it makes your head spin.

“Do you have a condom, Daddy?” you ask quickly. It just hit you that you didn't have one, nor were you on anything to prevent pregnancy, you just moved back and your appointment with your new gyno wasn't for a while.

“Better sweetheart, Daddy's got a vasectomy,” he whispers in your ear. “Gunna pump you so full of cum, have you dripping into your little panties there.” He firmly pushes you down into the desk, pushing your ass back into him.

Your eyes flick to the clock. “Daddy, please, we don't have much time.”

Tim chuckles behind you. “That how you like it? Fast and hard?” You nod enthusiastically against the desk. “Does your daddy know he raised such a filthy little girl?” 

He pulls back from you, and you feel his breath against your cunt, his mouth against your thigh as he presses his lips against it then he sucks making you whine out for him, leaving a mark before he moves onto your pussy. He's messy, diving between your folds, shoving his tongue into your hole, and flicking at your clit before biting your ass real quick and sitting up. 

Looking over your shoulder, you watch as he spits into his palm, and his hand glides over his cock, it’s big and beautiful and you want to hold it, put it in your mouth, and feel its weight on your tongue.

He pauses and looks down at you, a cocky smile on his lips. “Sitting there, whining like a dog in heat. What are you thinking of little one?”

“Sucking your cock,” you coo truthfully, looking up into his eyes as you feel him press against your entrance. “Taking your fat cock deep into my--AHh! Fuck Daddy!” you cry as he bottoms out in one smooth motion, stretching your cunt so much and leaving you grasping at the smooth surface of the desk. “Fuck!”

“So fuckin’ wet, just slipped in.” Tim leans over your body. “What were you saying, sweetheart?”

“Taking your--fuck,” your breath shudders as he starts moving behind you, “fat cock deep in my throat. Fuck Daddy you feel so good,” you moan, hands fisting in either side of you.

Tim holds onto your hips as he thrusts into you, making everything on the desk jiggle. He pants behind you, thighs slapping yours as pleasure coils in your stomach once again.

“God you're so tight,” he growls, his hand traveling down your hip to your leg, gripping and lifting it onto the desk, pushing himself deeper into you.

“Jesus, fuck,” you whimper, nails biting into your palms. “Daddy...fuck I'm gonna come...”

The front door opens and your father calls for you. “Gotta make a couple of trips for all the groceries! Would you like to come help?” You hear plastic bags placed down and the front door closes.

Tim pulls you up and covers your mouth. “Don't wanna let your daddy know how much of a filthy slut his little girl is, do you?” You shake your head. “Then you better be quiet.” He loosens his hand from your mouth and brings it down to your clit, his fingers moving in tight little circles.

“That's not fair,” you whine, hand clutching his wrist.

The appearance of your father, of being caught with Tim balls deep in you, ramps up the tingles thrumming through your body, bringing you closer and closer as Tim works your body, grunting in your ear.

“Come on sweetheart, I'm close, but you gotta-” 

“Fuck! Tim!” Teeth gritted, you growl out his name, as you shudder under him. You feel your walls pulse around him, and Tim kisses your neck.

“Good girl, such a good little girl for me.” He removes his hand from your clit and holds your hand as he continues to pound into you for a moment. Then his hips start to stutter and he growls in your ear before finally holding you still against him, his cock twitching inside you. “F-fuck, fuck sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your neck again.

He pulls out and you lay back down on the desk as the front door opens and closes again. Tim pulls your dress back down and you hear him do his pants up 

“I'll go hold him off, you clean up.” Then he smacks your ass and ambled out of the room.

“Fuck,” you say again breathlessly.

The door opens once again. “John!” Tim calls out. “So sorry, we were in the study when you came in, I spilled some coffee and your daughter was helping me clean it up.”

You sit up and grab tissues, wiping between your legs before you pull your panties back up and fix your hair, listening to Tim and your father in the hall. You fix up the desk, spill coffee from Tim's mug in the middle of the desk, get another tissue to clean it up, wrap it around the ones you used on yourself, ball it up, and throw it away.

You walk into the hall, mug in hand, and smile brightly at your father. “Hi, Daddy! Is there more out there?”

“Yeah, but Tim can help me get the last of it, and talk to me about what he came over for. But I won't say no to you helping put groceries away.”

“Of course,” you say, grimacing inwards, “Tim, your coffee.” You hand him the mug.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he says with a grin, kissing your temple. “John, you raised such a good girl here.”

[clawdeewritesfanfic]

I am so, so sorry Kept readers.

I just saw that Chapter 3 came out almost a year ago. Chapter 4 is not done, I open it up and look at it every so often but my fingers don't wanna write anything.

Honestly, I'm sorry to readers of all my series LMAO, oh gosh. To all the people who I've hinted continuations to, to who I talked ideas with and fleshed out a series idea.

It's all in my wips list. They're gonna get written, I got it in my noggin, it's just getting it out that's the issue.

[clawdeewritesfanfic]

Daddy's Girl: Chapter 3

DBF!Tim Rockford / F!Reader

Rating: Explicit! MDNI! 18+ || Word Count: 4.3k+ || Beta: No beta, we die like Pedro Pascal's characters || AO3

In celebration of your new job, your father invites Tim over for a small 'family' barbecue.

Warnings/Tags: dads best friend/work partner, age gap, (reader late 20s/early 30s - Tim late 40's/early 50's), daddy kink, hidden relationship, pet names: kid, kiddo, sweetheart, little girl, baby girl, baby, my pretty girl, good girl, Daddy. Oral sex (m), swallowing, pierced nipples, nipple play, thigh grinding, stalker, talk of patricide (killing ones own father) || Only descriptors of Reader: reader's skin color/hair texture/body are not described, the only things you know about reader are that she is able-bodied, Tim can move her, she has nipple piercings, she's a cis-female, and she can have children. || Dividers: @saradika-graphics|| Tags: @littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @pedrostories @mountainsandmayhem @baronessvonglitter

Previous || Series Masterlist || Next

Tim stares at the photos in his hand, chewing on the inside of his lips. Slipped under his door in a manila envelope while he was showering or getting dressed; sometime in the last forty-five minutes.

Photos of him. In his car, in front of his apartment building, the precinct, his fucking favorite Chinese place.

Goddamn it. It was probably Patterson, he wasn’t sure how - he wasn’t allowed out of his house, and he was closely monitored. But it had to be. 

True, Tim has put away plenty of people who would love for nothing more than to scare him, but it was too coincidental. Sighing, he slides the photos back into the envelope and checks himself in the mirror once more.

He’d have to bring it up with John tonight. 

John had invited him over for dinner to celebrate his daughter’s first day at her new job. It was casual of course, barbecue in the backyard, beers, enjoying the spring weather.

Affixing his glasses to his face, Tim grabs his wallet, keys, phone, and the envelope before walking out.

Your thighs burn as you walk up the few stairs of the porch. Of course, there would be a false fire alarm at work. Of course, you would work on one of the top floors, and of course, you’d have to take the stairs down. Sighing, you push the front door open and limp over to the couch, throwing yourself down which was probably a mistake. Objects in motion tend to stay in motion, and now you don’t see yourself getting off the couch for the next three hours.

“Mom!” Callum’s tiny feet thunder down the stairs before he launches his body over the back of the couch and into your lap, giggling.

You wrap him in your arms around him, burning your face in his hair and taking a big whiff of little boy. Mmm, dirt and sweat. “How was school?”

“Mr. Atkins read a book about cows that go on the computer that was funny,” he giggles, remembering it. “Then me and Liam got in trouble for digging in the yard.”

“Callum!”

“I didn’t know we weren’t s’posed to!” he says loudly, agitated.

“Ok, that’s fair,” you say calmly, smoothing down his hair. “That’s my bad, never told you not to dig up your schoolyard,” you murmur more to yourself. “Did you eat your lunch?” He nods.

“And Poppy made me a snack when I got home, and I had a cookie—”

“And carrots, some apple, a few pieces of salami.” Your father finishes for him, walking in from the kitchen.

“I bet you ate the cookie first, huh?” You dig your fingers into his ribs and tickle, laughing with him as he squirms trying to get away from it. “That’s okay, I used to eat the cookie first too,” you whisper and release him.

Callum jumps from your lap with a smile, then turns to your father. “Poppy, can I go play with Uncle Tim now?” Your heart skips a beat at Tim’s name and you have to temper down your reaction.

“Yeah kiddo, go ahead.” Your father steps back, patting Cal’s head as he runs past him.

“Tim’s here?”

“Yeah! Figured we’d have a little family dinner to celebrate your first day.” He flops on the couch next to you, his hand on your knees. “How was it?”

“Ugh, not so bad. It’s just a bunch of sitting at a desk, spreadsheets, paperwork, water-cooler chat—which is nice. I guess. You know, coming from retail where I’m on my feet all day dealing with customers,” you make a face. “But then the fire alarm went off — a false alarm,” you inform him quickly. “and we had to keep the elevator clear for those who can’t take the stairs—”

“So you had to walk down all those stairs.” He finishes for you.

“Bingo Pops. Now I’m pooped.” You lean over into his side and close your eyes with a sigh.

He lays his cheek on top of your head. “Too pooped for your father’s barbecue?”

Your eyes pop open and you sit up. “Never, but I do have to shower first, wash the stink of corporate off, but I don’t think I can get up.”

“Come on,” your father stands and holds his hand out to you. “You need help up the stairs?”

Grabbing his hand, he pulls and you push yourself off the couch. “No, I think I got it. I shouldn’t be long.”

Fifteen minutes later, you traipse down the stairs, your legs aching, and head to the kitchen for some mana from heaven — ibuprofen.

Filling your emotional support water bottle with ice and fresh water, you toss back two of the little pills and wander out back.

Your father was at the picnic table, a bottle of beer in front of him, half gone, condensation pooled beneath it, and Cal and Tim were kicking around his newest ball you had picked up at the grocery store for him. Bright red with a picture of the Ninja Turtles on either side, it reminded you of the dodgeballs they used to have back when you were in school.

“Feeling a little better?” Your father turns to you asking.

“Yeah.” You nod, then look out to the yard watching Tim and Cal. Tim would kick the ball, angling it just so it would roll past Cal and down the long yard, making him laugh and chase it.

“I’m not over there Uncle Tim! I’m over here, silly!” He drops the ball into the grass, sees you, and runs over. “Mom!”

You watch as Tim turns, his eyes meeting yours, and he smiles. God, you adore the way his eyes crinkle, the deep laugh lines in his face, his dimple, and the way his beautiful brown eyes sparkle. He pushes his glasses up his nose and follows Cal, just not as excitedly.

“Hey there kid.” He walks over, giving you a side hug and kissing the top of your head. “Your dad told me about all the exercise you got today. How’d it go otherwise?” Tim folds his long body in next to you, pulling a bottle of beer from the ice bucket in the middle of the table for himself, and a Diet Coke for you that he sets next to your water bottle.

Cal climbs into your lap, reaching over for a chip from the snack tray, and you kiss his head before laying your cheek on his head and smiling at Tim. “It was…nice. A little boring, but the pay is good and I don’t have to deal with people a whole lot, just numbers—far more easier than people… they make more sense too.” Cal offers you a chip and you snag it from his hand with your mouth.

“People don’t make sense?” Cal asks, tilting his little head up towards you.

“Sometimes, baby.”

“Hey,” your dad raps his knuckles on the table. “I gotta go down to the Food Bazaar for a few things, you guys gonna be alright here?” He gives Tim a pointed look and you narrow your eyes at him.

“Can I go, Poppy?”

“I’m not drivin’, just walking little man. You up for that?” John gets up from the table, patting his pockets.

Cal thinks for a moment, grabs another chip, and slips from your lap. “I’m ready!”

“Hey, hey, hey.” You grab his little hand and spin him around, bending down so you’re face-to-face with him. “You hold Poppy’s hand when you’re walking, do not wander away from him in the store. Remember we do not talk to strangers, if you get separated in the store you find an employee, and if you get separated on the walk you do not move and you yell for Poppy.”

“I ‘member.” He nods, his eyes wide.

“And—” Cal cuts you off by reciting your cell number, something you and your father have drilled into him. You give him a big smile. “Good job, baby.”

“I got him, baby girl, don’t worry about us. Come on kid.” He holds his hand out to Cal, who takes it, and you watch them walk into the house, holding your breath. They walk to the grocery store all the time, it’s about ten minutes each way, depending on how tired Cal gets and how the foot traffic is, but nerves settle in your belly anyway as you hear the front door close and lock.

“You okay?” Tim places his hand on your shoulder.

“What?” You shake your head. “Yeah. Do you—do you think Dad knows? About us?”

Tim furrows his brows. “What makes you say that?”

You turn your body to face him, your knee touching his thigh, your body growing hot at just this tiny connection.“When he asked if we’d be okay here, he gave you a look.” 

Tim sighs. “He does not know about us.” He drops his hand to your knee and gives it a comforting rub. “But he does have something serious to talk to you about later after Cal goes to bed.”

“Is he ok?” You ask, voice shaking, worried for a different reason now.

“Yeah, of course. We just—” he grimaces and rubs the back of his neck. “A guy we put away got out of prison recently, he just wants to show you a picture and tell you to keep an eye out. He was pretty pissed at us back when we nabbed him.”

“Okay.” Leaning forward you quickly remove his glasses, tossing them gently on the table, and press your lips to his while grabbing a fistful of his Knicks shirt. “I missed you,” you whisper against his lips between kisses.

“Oh god.” He turns at his waist and grabs onto yours. “Wait.” He pushes you back. “We’re out in the open, should we really—”

“I don’t care. Dad and Callum are gonna be gone for at least twenty minutes, minimum. The neighbors mind their own business. Touch me, Tim.” He didn’t need to be told twice, he quickly got up from the table and sat back down the other way, his long legs facing outwards, stretching out in front of him. 

Excitedly, you straddle his lap, loop your arms around his neck, and wind your fingers in his hair where it curled over his collar. His big hands splay across your back, pushing you against his chest, and he claims your mouth with a groan. The kiss takes your breath away and sends pulses of heat racing through you. You kiss for a moment, and a thought crosses your mind. With a wicked smile, you pull back from Tim, grab the back of his shirt, and pull it over his head. You fight with it a little until you have his shirt off his body and in your hands; after a deep whiff, filling your nostrils with the scent of Tim, you toss it into the table behind you.

“Wha—”

“It’s okay Daddy,” you coo, scooting down his thighs and leaning forward, kissing his neck, that freckle under his ear, and move lower, your hands wandering across his broad body, smiling at the greys that now sprinkle his chest and his soft belly. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.” Your fingers play with the band of his basketball shorts.

“Sweetheart,” Tim says breathily, watching as you stand in front of him. You rip your shirt off, leaving you in a sports bra and shorts, you nudge his knees apart and ease yourself down between his thighs and into the grass.

“Yes? Daddy?” You look up at him, your eyes wide, fingers tracing the edge of his waistband.

“I-I…earlier I—” he gestures down to himself.

“Did you touch yourself, Daddy?” You tug at his waist and he lifts his hips for you, allowing you to expose his soft cock, the thatch of dark hair also sprinkled with greys. “Did you…” you lick your lips as you grab his sizeable, flaccid cock; gently squeezing it in your hands. “Think about me when you did it?”

“Thought about you wearing—ah!” He hisses when you lick up his shaft and press a kiss to a freckle at the bottom of his head. “God, you’ll be the death of me, little girl.”

“What was I wearing Daddy?” You ask before sucking his head into your mouth and stroking him.

“Another of those dresses—shit, yeah, keep doing that.” He places a hand on your head and adjusts on the bench as you lower yourself, taking more of him in. “Wanted to take you inside for another quickie, while John and Cal were out here.”

“Mmhmm?” You hum around him, encouraging him to go on as you bob your head slowly, feeling his head tickle the back of your throat.

He felt so good, his heavy, pliable cock filling your mouth, and soon, maybe, your throat. Playing with his balls, you lightly drag the nails of your other hand along his chest, running them over his pebbled nipples.

“Shit, fuck!” Tim groans. “Your fucking mouth. Been a long time since I went twice in one day. I don’t know if—”

“Does it feel good?” You stroke his spit-covered member.

“Yeah,” he croaks out.

“And you taste so good, Daddy. You don’t gotta get hard or come again...I just want to enjoy you. Keep talking, tell me.” You take him back into your mouth, sucking on his head and running your tongue over the tip.

Tim squirms beneath you but takes a deep breath. “Wanted to take you up to that bathroom, where I first heard you.” You lower your head once more, his cock sliding to the back of your throat, the head settling there. “Sit that ass of yours down on the—oh God.” You swallow around him, come up, and slowly bob your head, swallowing the head when your nose is pressed against his soft, freckled tummy. The heady scent of Tim, the weight of him in your mouth, the dampness of your panties—it all makes a girl’s head swim. “Wanted to—uh—sit you on that counter, suck on those pretty titties of yours, see if I can get you off that way.”

You look up at him, the tip of his cock in your mouth, and nod. You wrap your hand around his shaft, feeling him start to swell, and take him back down. Lowering your hand, you cradle his balls, the tip of your pointer finger running back and forth along his perineum.

“Can’t believe you’re getting him back up, baby girl. Fuckin’ miracle mouth on you, huh?” Tim’s voice is full of reverence, and you smile. His cock swells in your mouth, stretching your lips wide, growing down your throat, but you don’t pull off him. You don’t want to, you want to hold him in your mouth until he comes down your throat.

Tim cradles your jaw and pulls you up off him, coughing you take a deep breath. “Baby, take a breath. Come on, good girl.” His thumbs brush the tears at your cheeks as his eyes slowly move over your face, his concern turning to lust as he stops on your swollen lips. “Look at you, my pretty girl,” he murmurs, thumb moving across your lips spreading spit across them. “How you feeling? You hot and bothered? Soaking your pretty panties for me?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You nod and clench your thighs together trying to relieve some pressure.

“Daddy’s close to bursting, so you make Daddy come, and then he’ll help you come if you can be quick about it.”

You grin, grabbing him in your hand once more. “Gonna come in my mouth, Daddy?” Looking down at his gorgeous cock you see a spot of pre-cum on the tip and bend forward to lick it off. Swirling the minuscule amount around in your mouth you moan. His come even tasted good. “It’s so good, Daddy.”

“Yeah? Made it just for you baby, an’ there’s lots more waiting for you. Now come on, we don’t have much time.”

You take him back in your mouth, now fully hard, your mouth stretches around him and his head slides past your uvula. You bob, making sure to pull off and take a breath now and then.

“There you go baby, Christ. Can’t wait to get you alone, and not have to rush.” You close your eyes and moan around him. “Come on kiddo, look at me when I fill your mouth,” Tim says, his voice strangled. You can feel his stomach tighten under your palm, and you look up at him, tears trickling down your face. “So pretty for me.”

He comes with a soft grunt, his body relaxing under your touch as ropes of salty cum shoot into your mouth and slide down your throat. Holding just the tip in your mouth, you slowly jerk him, trying to get every last drop from his balls until he pulls you off him.

He grabs the paper towels from behind himself and wipes your mouth and chin carefully before he cleans off his already softening dick and pulls his shorts back up.

“Come here, baby,” he whispers, patting his bare thigh. “Let Daddy help your poor little cunt.”

You clamber into his lap, straddling his thigh, and loop your arms around his neck again. “Will we have time?” You ask, slowly moving your hips, rubbing your aching pussy against him

“We’ll have time, show Daddy those pretty titties again baby girl.” You comply, pulling the band of your sports bra up over them, and Tim immediately covers them with his big hands, massaging them and plucking at your nipples.

Muscles tighten in your core and you gasp, leaning forward, angling your clit just right. “Oh God Daddy, it feels so good.” Your hips move in small, slow circles.

“Yeah, you gonna come like this? Fully clothed, rubbing against me?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan, nodding weekly. You nuzzle his neck, pressing your open, panting mouth against his sweaty skin.

“Come on baby,” his hands move to your hips and press you down, but still allowing you to set the pace.

“Ah!” You gasp, the added pressure making your stomach clench, pleasure coiling up.

“Can’t wait to get you alone, gonna lay you out naked in the bed, make you come so much you’ll be seeing stars,” Tim grunts in your ear and kisses the side of your head. “Gonna make this pretty lil’ pussy of yours sore, you’ll be begging me to stop.” You can’t form words, all you can do is nod. “Yeah? You like that? My hands, my mouth, my cock. Gonna use ‘em all on you. Gonna suck the coating off those naughty little piercings of yours too. God, they’re so gorgeous.”

The coil snaps, and you bury your face against his skin, muffling yourself as you come. Your legs shake, and Tim just holds onto you, making soothing noises as he rubs your back; and pulls your sports bra back down carefully over your breasts.

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl,” he whispers. “Can’t wait to hear your pretty sounds unmuffled.”

You let out a huff of laughter and sit up, your eyes starting to unglaze, and you grab his face and kiss him. It was soft, sensual, and—loving. You break the kiss and lean back. Where did that come from?

You check your watch and see that at least twenty minutes have passed already. “I should go clean up before they get back,” you say quickly.

“Don’t forget your shirt.” Tim reaches behind himself as you carefully get up from his lap, your legs a little wobbly.

“And yours. Uh, I’ll just tell Dad that I spilled my coke, if he asks about my wardrobe change,” you mutter, holding your shirt to your chest and getting a faint whiff of Old Spice.

Tim watches as she rushes off into the house, pulling her shirt on over her head. He frowns. What went wrong? Everything was going so very, very well, and then she kissed him, and god what a kiss it was, and then she just…shut down. He sits, fingertips on his tingling lips as he looks up to where he knows her bedroom is and shakes his head.

He quickly puts his shirt on, looking around, seeing if anyone has seen. Shit, that was a mistake, doing this in the fucking yard. But she had tasted so good and looked so fucking pretty on her knees looking up at him.

“Shit,” he whispers, grabbing the paper towels again, pulling another off, and wiping off her slick from his thigh. He grabs the wad of them, and throws them out in the garbage in the house, burying them under the empty box of foil that was on top.

He goes back out to the picnic table, picks up his beer, finishes it, and notices that her Coke isn’t even open. Shit. He quickly opens it, drinks a good bit of it, then spills a little bit of it on the table, quickly cleaning it up and going to toss that in the garbage just as the front door opens.

“Uncle Tim!” Callum runs into the house and straight to him. “Look what I got! Where’s mom?” He holds up a five-pack of Hot Wheels and looks around the kitchen.

Tim kneels next to him. “Wow, look at those, buddy. You know I had this one when he was younger.” He points to a dark blue Monte Carlo.

“I wanna show mom!”

“She’s upstairs, had a little accident with her Coke, she’ll be down in a minute.”

“Everything okay?” John asks, setting down the bags. Silently checking in. ‘Did you see Patterson? Or anyone watching you?’

“We were just yapping, and her Coke spilled everywhere. She went upstairs to clean up, I wiped down the table.” We made each other come, and I think I did something wrong because she panicked and ran. “How was your walk?” Tim asks back.

“It’s a lovely day for a walk.” He empties the bags and tosses the new roll of foil to Tim. “Here, butter and wrap the corn. Top shelf. Cal, go check on your mom.”

After a delicious dinner, Tim had left, and Callum had gone to bed, you sit out back at the picnic table with your father, finishing off the tray of snacks, and the one beer you allowed yourself.

“So,” you start, picking at the label on your beer. “Tim said you had something to talk to me about?”

Your father sighs, finishes off his beer, and reaches for another. “Do you remember Ray Patterson? ‘Bout twenty years ago? The first guy Tim and I put away together?”

You nod. “That was a big case for you. If I recall correctly, he murdered his father in a fit of rage.” You sigh, remembering the details. “They had gotten into so argument, and Ray just…beat the shit outta him. Killed him. Ran away, cleaned himself up, came home to ‘find’ the body, called the cops, and reported a break-in after messing things up around the house.”

John nods as you talk. “He did a damn good job of it too, had us fooled for a while.” He takes a long pull. “But uh, he was released earlier in the week. Par—”

“What?!” You thunk your beer down and lean towards him. “It was murder two. He shouldn’t be getting parole for another couple of years!”

“That’s what we said! But apparently, since it was a ‘crime of passion’, and he’s all out of parents to kill, they didn’t think he was a danger to the general public. He’s been a model inmate since he was put in juvie, he’s found God,” you snort at that and your dad chuckles. “He’s on house arrest right now, ankle monitor, surprise check-ins with his PO.”

“But…”

“But, he was plenty pissed at us when we put him away. And,” your father digs under the snack plate and drops a manila envelope in front of you. “Tim and I got these. His slipped under his front door, mine were under my windshield wipers.”

With a shaky hand, you pick up the envelope and shake the contents out. Pictures of Tim in front of his apartment and the precinct, a restaurant. Then pictures of your father in front of the house, driving his car, on one of his many walks to the Food Bazaar. Your breath stops as you look at one picture. You, hand in hand with Callum, walking to the bus stop.

“This was last week. Thursday.” You hold the picture of you and Callum up. “Dad, what the fuck.”

“The last picture is the most recent picture we have of Patterson. I know you gotta work, and Callum has to go to school, but try to keep trips that aren’t those to a minimum and keep your eyes open kiddo.”

“I had plans with Sandra this weekend.” You didn’t, but she was your coverup for going to Tim’s.

“I know, take your gun.”

“I can still go?” You look up, surprised

“You know how to handle yourself, Cal will be with Dean, and I’ll be home if Dean needs me. You take your weekend with Sandra and your gun.” He reminds you again. “I have his PO checking on him both days.”

Naughty, Naughty Detective

Tim stares at the note slipped under his door while he was out. Typed and printed on plain white paper, it could have come from anywhere and it’d be a massive pain in the ass to track. With his luck, it was from one of the colleges or a public library, one of the thousands of office buildings. Sighing, Tim tosses the plastic baggie he had it in away from him and leans back on the couch. Fuck. Someone was watching them in the backyard.

[clawdeewritesfanfic]

Hoping to get the next chapter of Daddys Girl out soon :)

I'm getting a new computer on Thursday but I'm hoping to get the chapter out beforehand (because once I get the new computer I'm going to be playing games I haven't been able to on my old computer lmao)

[clawdee]

Looking for a new Beta Reader!

Hi! Hello! I write for the PPCU fandom mainly over at @clawdeewritesfanfic.

My Beta is going through some stuff, and can't help me right now, so I'm looking for a new one! I don't write A LOT, you would maybe beta 1 fic a month (but I have a couple fics backing up right now), and fic size could be anywhere from 3k-12k.

Please read below if you are interested:

About my writing: mostly smut, some story--looking to do more story in the future. A majority of it is consensual, I'm not big on dub-con and non-con, but I do have a fic that has dub-con (with non-con coming up). Lots of Dom/Sub dynamics, playing around with taboo subjects (CNC coming up, knife play in the past, etc.)

What I'm looking for a Beta to do: I have a bad Covid Brain coupled with Stroke Brain. While I'm mostly (?) ok when I write, I do have problems with punctuation, my brain can switch words (bread/beard), or sometimes I reuse words a lot because I can't think of another word for what I want to say (like just have the thesaurus open KELSEY), or sometimes I have trouble saying what I mean.

So I just need someone to make sure all the right words are in the right places, it makes sense, everything is spelled right, it's not repetitive, and my punctuation is good.

And maybe someone I can bounce ideas off of! Talk out the story! Have someone to (nicely) critique/offer suggestions. You don't have to have knowledge of the PPCU movies I'm writing about, I barely have knowledge of them. I am kinda looking for a ho though, because I'm... not one. I have no experience, so I just want to make sure all the sex is correct LMAO.

DM, send an ask, let's chat if you're interested!

[seaweedbraens]

[semperintrepida]

This is the worst timeline. (x)

[pftones3482]

If you do this with my fics, or anyone's fics, please know I HATE you. I hate you more than every troll comment, every "your writing sucks kys" comment, every "update soon" comment. I hate you. Other authors hate you. If you want my fic, you either WAIT for it or you pay me for it. And if you won't do one of those things, you don't deserve my fic or anyone else's.

[xfangheartx]

MY FICS ARE NOT MEANT TO FEED YOUR AI GARBAGE!!!

[whathebeep]

Anyone who feeds an artist or writer's work into an AI is actual garbage

[angy-brows]

If you do this shit, unfollow me. And I’m being 100% serious on this.

Art, writing, whatever. If you funnel someone else’s work through AI, I have no respect for you and you can sincerely go fuck yourself.

[erinwantstowrite]

genuinely i think if anybody did this with my fic and especially told me about it i would stop writing and that is soul crushing

[manorofshepard]

By reading my works you are signing an agreement that if you put my works through AI or repost my works or anything like that, i get to hunt you for sport

[clawdeewritesfanfic]

Daddy's Girl: Chapter 2

DBF!Tim Rockford / F!Reader

Rating: Explicit! MDNI! 18+ || Word Count: 3.7k+ || Beta: @itsokbbygrlbutworsethistime || AO3

You head over to Tim's with a specific plan in mind - to get his fat cock down your throat. Unfortunately (fortunately?), best-laid plans, and all that jazz.

Warnings/Tags: dads best friend, age gap, (reader late 20s/early 30s - Tim late 40's/early 50's), daddy kink, pet names: kiddo, sweetheart, kid, little girl, young lady, Daddy. Smut, oral sex (f), pierced nipples, nipple play (?), brief ass eating (f), brief vaginal fingering, cockblocked by father (and bad guys), blue vulva, masturbation (m, f), and brief drug mention. || Only descriptors of Reader: The person in the mood board is only for aesthetics: reader's skin color/hair texture/body are not described, the only things you know about reader are that she is able-bodied, Tim can move her, she's a cis-female, she can bake, she visits her public library (as should you), and she can have children. || Dividers: @saradika-graphics || Tags:  @littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @pedrostories || Tagging bc they liked the first one so much: @mountainsandmayhem @baronessvonglitter

Previous || Series Masterlist || Next

Tim’s cock sits hard and heavy in his hand as he squeezes, slowly dragging his fist up and down as the shower beats down on him.

It’s been nearly a week and he can’t stop thinking about her. Her taste, her sounds, how she felt in his hands and around his cock.

He shouldn’t, he knows he shouldn’t. His partner’s daughter, nearly twenty years younger than him… but God she wanted it as much as he did. She’s been wanting it longer. He knows it’s wrong. He watched her grow up for Christ’s sake. Put band-aids on her skinned knees, fucking babysat her when John and Vivianne went on dates, and let her climb on his back and ride him like a pony back when his knees were still good.

But now he wants her to ride him; wants to watch the ecstasy on her face as she comes all over his cock, watch her breasts and stomach jiggle as she bounces, whispering his name, or God help him - calling him Daddy again.

He never thought he’d be into that. He always thought it was silly when he heard other women giggle about it, but then the word slipped from her sinful mouth and that’s all he ever wanted to hear.

He thinks about how she called him Daddy as she came, first around his fingers, then around his cock. He squeezes harder now, trying once again to replicate that feeling—how tight she had felt when she came, her pussy milking every last ounce from him, her own Daddy just down the hall, coulda walked in at any time. Could have seen Tim balls deep in his precious little girl, bent over his desk with Tim holding her down, her pretty dress pushed up around her waist.

“Fuck,” he grits out as he spills against the tile, cock twitching in his grip as he slowly milks himself, letting the shower wash his cum down the drain; just like it has daily for the past week. “Fuck,” he says again, leaning his forehead against the cool tile.

Smoothing down your dress, you bring your hand up to knock nervously before placing it on the bottom of the still-warm pie dish with the other to keep from fidgeting. You hope you don’t look like a horny fool.

He hasn’t called or shown up since that day, but you couldn’t stop thinking about him; about his hands on your body, his cock inside your pussy. God, you want to put his soft cock in your mouth and feel him grow down your throat. You close your eyes and suppress a moan, squeezing your thighs together, feeling them slide against each other from the slickness already dripping down.

The door swings open, and there he is, fresh from the shower. “Hey, sweetheart,” he says gently, running a towel over his wet hair, his soulful eyes taking in your face. “What brings you over?” He steps back, allowing you space to step into his apartment.

“I, uh, brought you this,” you hold the pie up. “Cal and I went cherry picking over the weekend and we came back with more than we could eat, and I, uh, had an extra pie and I remembered how much you liked cherry.”

You step into his apartment slowly. He had moved places since the last time you’d been to his place. You recognize most of the furniture, but he has some nice, new pieces that fit his vibe. The faint sound of a Fleetwood Mac song ending comes from his record player against the wall.

“It looks beautiful, kiddo.” But he wasn’t looking at the dessert you’re holding. You feel your face heat up as he slips the pie dish from your hands. “An’ look at that, still nice and…warm.” He wets his bottom lip before turning towards his small kitchen.

You watch appreciatively at the way his gray sweats clung to his ass and how good he looked in that black t-shirt, how it clung real nice to his freckled biceps. You remember when you first really saw them, you were 15, and he had come over to help your father with something, your memory was hazy about what, you just remember his arms, how sweaty he got, and the way he was grunting. You had humped your pillow imagining it was those delicious arms that night, not even wondering until you were staring at your ceiling later that night trying to sleep if that was weird. They were just arms.

Following, you watch as he places the pie on the counter, grips it, and leans forward. “We can’t keep doing this.” The words are spoken softly.

You stop in the doorway, hands fidgeting. “Doing what?”

Tim sighs. “It ain’t…right, what we’re doing. Wha-what I did to you.” He scrubs his face. “You’re my partner’s kid, I’ve known you since you were knee height. Fuckin’ twenty years older than you.” He doesn’t look at you, his eyes stay glued to the pie on the counter, standing there like he’s waiting for you to leave, sighing and biting his lip. But you weren’t going to give up that easily.

“I was not knee height when I was 10, Tim.” You walk into the room, sliding your hand along his back. “I’m an adult, you didn’t force me, you didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t want done,” you say gently. “I wanted it—wanted you, Tim. And you wanted me too.” You reach out, cup his jaw, and turn his face towards you. “Do you still want me, Daddy?”

“Sweet, wonderful you

You make me happy with the things you do”

Tim guides you backward, his hands at your hips, mouth connected to yours as you kiss, tongues dancing around each other as Christine McVie croons from his record player. The back of your knees hit the couch, and you tumble backward, pulling Tim with you as you giggle. He catches himself with one hand to not completely squish you, but his hard body is still heavy on top of you. His hips grind down into yours, his hands slowly pull your dress up while his mouth traces your jaw and teases down the column of your neck.

“No marks,” you quietly remind him. Cal was at that age where he questioned everything, and your father knew what hickeys were.

Tim laughs against your chest, his warm breath raising goosebumps on your flesh. “No visible marks,” he murmurs, dragging the top of your dress down to expose your breasts. He pauses for a moment, and you smile, knowing why. “Shit,” he breathes. “Gonna ask a real dumb question here, kid. There anything I shouldn’t do to ‘em?”

“Besides the obvious of don’t pull them out?” you joke, stroking his hair gently. “Just be gentle, don’t crack a tooth on ‘em.”

“This is new for me, so you tell me if I’m too rough, alright kiddo?”

“Of course, but I don’t think—” He pulls one of your pebbled nipples into his mouth and sucks. Gasping, your body slouches down as you arch into his mouth. One of Tim’s arms encircles your waist and maneuvers the both of you on the couch, putting your head on the arm and laying your body out for him, fitting his body between your thighs.

“Thought there’d be a taste,” he mutters before sucking a mark into the underside of your breast. You squeal and giggle at the sensation, hands sliding through his still-wet hair, you tangle your fingers in his locks and try to push his head lower.

Tim chuckles, moves to your other breast, and pulls that nipple into his mouth, teeth circling it, flicking the piercing with his tongue. “Tim!”

He sits up and pecks your lips. “Nuh-uh little girl, you know what to call me.” His hand glides up your thigh, under your dress, every so slowly, savoring your silky smooth skin. He hisses in a breath when his hand meets bare hip and he growls out your name. “Where are your panties, young lady?”

Looking up at him with wide innocent eyes, you blink, a Cheshire smile on your lips. “In my car, Daddy.”

“Naughty fucking girl, not wearing any panties under her pretty dress,” Tim growls once more, his hand moving to the apex of your thighs, his fingers sliding through your folds easily with how wet you were.

“Daddy,” you sigh, threading your fingers through his thick hair. “I wanted—”

“What did you want, sweetheart? What can Daddy do for you?” He murmurs against your breast before taking it in his mouth again.

You adjust on the couch and look down your body at him. “I wanted—” Tim’s teeth scrape against your delicate skin. “I came over to–fuck,” you sigh and lean back as he moves down between your legs.

“Later baby girl, I’ve been thinking about doing this all week, just got done in the shower jerking off thinking about this.” He parts your lips with his massive thumbs and licks. His lips wrap gently around your clit and he sucks.

“Oh God, oh fuck.” Clutching his hair with one hand, your other comes up, grabbing the arm of the couch and holding on. Your nails scratch against his scalp, against the leather of the couch, and your hips inch their way up on their own, trying to get closer and closer to Tim’s mouth.

His tongue flicks expertly against your clit, pulling moans from deep inside you.

“You taste so good, even better than I remember,” he sighs, pulling off your clit and looking up at you. “How long do I have?”

“What?” Dazed you look down at him with bleary eyes.

“Daddy wants to take his time with you, sweetheart. Do you have anywhere you need to be? Did you tell John you’d be home at a certain time?”

“Oh, uh,” palm to your forehead you close your eyes and think. “Cal gets off the school bus around 3:20, but Dad should be home; I just told him I was bringing the pie over, probably going to the library.”

“So I have time,” Tim mutters while kissing the inside of your thigh.

“Yes, God yes, please. Take your time Daddy.” You absentmindedly scratch at his head, delighted in the moans he lets out against your cunt. “You know, I came over here to blow you. That’s all I’ve been thinking about since the other day.”

“Yeah? That why you came over in this short little dress, tits practically spilling out, slick dripping down your legs with a bare pussy?” Teeth sink into your thigh and you gasp, a zing of pleasure hits you right in your center at the growl in his voice, at the way he chastised you. “Think you came over for more than that, kiddo.”

“Is that so bad?” You wiggle beneath him, a smile splaying across your face.

“No,” he growls before diving back into your cunt, lapping at your entrance, his fingers probing.

Head lolling back, your fingers grip his hair, and your hips move on their own, chasing his mouth each time he moves. Tim’s free hand adjusts, moving to cup your ass and lift you, parting your cheeks as he does so. Then his tongue moves down, swiping across your asshole, tasting, teasing.

“Oh!” Your body jerks as he does so, the sensation new to you, but not unpleasant.

“This okay?” Tim asks, his tongue taking another swipe.

“Y-yeah. Just…new.”

“You telling me this old dog is teaching you a new trick, kiddo?” Tim chuckles against you, your body melting in his hands, his tongue laving over your puckered hole, pressing against it. A few more licks and then he moves back up, his tongue working through your folds, your body vibrating with pleasure. A weird noise breaks through the quiet of the living room, loud enough to be heard over your moans, and the sound of Tim’s mouth on you.

“Tim?” You gently push his head. “What is that?”

“Just my cell, don’t worry about it,” he murmurs.

You strain your ears, the phone must be towards the back of the apartment. “Is that…the Colombo theme song? It’s Dad’s favorite show.” You don’t know why you mention it, it just pops out.

“Ignore it, it’ll stop.”

It does, after a beat, and you try to get back into it, Tim’s tongue doing wonders on your cunt, a finger slipping into you, curving up. But it starts up again shortly after it ends.

“Tim, I can’t—” you start, sitting up and pulling his face to yours. “Just go answer it,” you say, pressing a kiss to his mouth and tasting yourself on his lips.

Tim sighs. “Don’t go anywhere kiddo, I’m not done.” He kisses you back and then huffs as he gets off the couch heading to the back of the apartment. You wouldn’t dream of going anywhere, not when you knew that man was coming back for you. “I was laying down for a nap John, why? What’s going on?” You sit up as Tim walks back into the room and points at the phone ‘Your dad’ he mouths. Hands clutching the back of the couch, you watch as he listens, hand on his hip, eyes closed. “Yeah ok, I can get ready and meet you down at the precinct in like, half an hour? What?” His eyes pop open. “You’re here? Now?” He rushes to his living room window and looks out, running his hand hurriedly through his hair. You stand, grab your purse from the coffee table, and head to the door. Tim whips around, shaking his head and pointing to the back of the apartment. “Yeah, yeah John, I’ll start getting ready now.” He hangs up, tosses the phone on the desk, puts his big hand on your lower back, and rushes you to his bedroom.

“He’s here now?” You echo quietly back at him as you step into his room. The room is done up in dark woods and light natural colored fabrics, accenting the old brick wall that his leather headboard rests against.

“Walking up the stairs as we speak,” Tim says, digging through his dresser drawers and throwing clothes onto the bed.

“Ok, so I can just leave. Pass him on the stairs, he knew I was coming over—”

“You’ve been here too long for a simple drop off, he’ll be suspicious. Just—” Tim walks over, grabs your hand, and places a key in it, “here. Once we leave, wait 5-10 minutes, then you can leave, and lock up behind yourself.”

“Alright.” You clutch the key in your hand and nod, biting your lip.

He steps in front of you, grabbing your hand with his. “Listen, kiddo, I’ll make it up to you, ok? But there’s a break in our case, I have to go, and I need you to stay here — to not run into your father until I figure things out.” His thumb brushes your skin. “Do you have any free time coming up?”

“Cal’s going to his dad’s next weekend,” you offer up with a lift of your shoulder.

Tim nods. “Alright, good. Keep the key, we’ll make plans for next weekend, finish up what we were doing today, maybe do a few—” Knocking from the front of the apartment interrupts him. Tim grabs your shoulders and moves you over towards the closet door. “Stay here.” Then he’s gone.

You fidget with the key, listening to Tim open the front door, and the murmuring of his and your fathers’ voices, then Tim’s soft footsteps as he makes his way back to the room, with a yell of “I just gotta get dressed, 5 minutes!” tossed out as he steps back into the room, closing the door behind him.

You stand in the corner, purse and key clutched in your hands, thighs pressed together, watching as Tim changes quickly into his work attire. His broad back tapers down to his small waist, and you can see the way his full balls hang between his thick thighs. Freckles dot him from head to toe and you want to press your lips to each and every one of them.

“Can you grab a tie for me?” Tim whispers, nodding his chin to the closet behind you as he buttons up his white dress shirt. “They’re on the inside of the door.” You grab one, they’re already knotted, ready to go. He walks over reaching for the tie, but you shake your head.

“Let me,” you whisper, reaching up and slipping the tie over his head slowly, adjusting his collar, and tightening it for him. You rest your hands on his chest and bite your lip. Sliding your hands up, you cup the back of his neck and pull him down to you for a kiss. It’s soft and slow, tongues playfully dancing around each other, his hands gripping your waist, holding you against him.

“Timmy come on! Let’s go! Need me to come in there and dress you?” Your father shouts from the other side of the bedroom door.

“I’m coming, keep your pants on!” Tim yells toward the door, and sighs, leaning his forehead against yours. “Next weekend. We’ll go someplace for a few days of uninterrupted fun, is that okay?”

You nod, pull your hands back, and step back from him. “Just so you know, before I leave here, I’m getting myself off in your bed.” His eyebrows raise. “You can’t just eat me out like that, not let me come, and expect anything else, Daddy.”

Tim groans and kisses your forehead. “Naughty girl, making me hard before I go catch a bad guy.”

Smiling, you pat his chest. “Be safe.”

“Always am kiddo.”

Burying your face in Tim’s pillow, you take a deep inhale and roll your tired, spent body over. After Tim and your father left, you had waited, checked to make sure your Dad’s car was gone, and then slipped naked into Tim’s bed. Surrounded by Tim’s scent, you got yourself off twice thinking about him being there with you, that the pillow you set up at your back was his warm, broad, chest as his arm wrapped around your waist as he slid in and out of you.

You shake yourself, you can’t allow yourself to linger in Tim’s bed for too long. With Dad out of the house, you had to be home for Callum, and you still had to run to the library real quick and grab a book so you wouldn’t be lying to your father about another thing. You hated lying to him about this, but what would you tell him ‘Hey daddy, I’m boinking your partner? We’re just friends with benes it’s fine.’ But also…did you just want to be friends with benefits with Tim?

You’ve been crushing on him for the majority of your life, he’s been crushing on you for nearly your whole adult life. You knew he was a good man, he was good with Callum, and your dad liked him. You huff out a laugh at that. Probably wouldn’t like him too much after he finds out about the two of you.

Slipping out of his bed, you put your dress back on, pick up Tim’s discarded clothes, shake them out, and put them nicely at the end of the bed. He’ll want to change back into them when he gets home. Grabbing your purse and the key you head out.

You pass a few people as you head out. A little old lady and her dog, a bike messenger that heavily smelled of pot, and a man with a baby strapped to his chest. It was busy for a building with only 4 floors.

Outside on the sidewalk, you pull your phone out of your purse to find a few calls from your father, and finally a text.

John: Break in case. Getting Tim and going. Hopefully won’t be late - have dinner w/o me.

You: sry daddy, was in library, heading home now, be safe <3

Tim sits, his eyes closed, the smell of her still on his mustache. He tries to think about anything but her. He was in a car with her father for Christ’s sake, he couldn’t fucking pop a boner, John would ask questions, teasingly demanding answers about who he was thinking about. He’s been on Tim about finding a girlfriend for a while now; he’d murder him if he found out he found his daughter. Though technically they weren’t together, just…fucking. No, that sounded crass. He grimaces and adjusts in his seat. But it was what they were doing, wasn’t it? Did he want it to be more?

“Hey, you hear Patterson got out?”

Tim startles. “What? How’d he get out, I thought he still had a few years?”

“Model fucking behavior both in juvie and prison. He’s out on house arrest, medicated, got an ankle monitor, and surprise check-ins with his PO.”

“Let me guess, he also found God?”

“Ding ding ding ding! Give that man his prize!” John’s phone beeps. “Your prize is checking that for me. I messaged her when I left to come get you, so that’s probably her.” Her. John had asked about you when Tim got in the car, asking if you got there ok, when you left, ‘Oh, she wasn’t here long, just dropped off the pie then off to the library, you know her.’

Tim grabs the phone and wakes it, seeing the message from you on the home screen without having to unlock it. His heart pounds at the use of the word ‘daddy’. He knows you’re not talking to him, but to your actual father, but still.

“She says she was in the library,” He reads out loud, John chuckles and flicks on the blinker. “She’s heading home now, be safe.” Tim reads and then puts the phone back in the cup holder.

“Good, good. I’m going to see if I can get a recent picture of Patterson for her, hell for all of us. It’s been fifteen years, who knows what he looks like now, and he’s still gotta be pissed at us.”

[clawdeewritesfanfic]

Cleaned up the main masterlist and added some series masterlists - giving you a small peak into upcoming (don't ask when bc idk) projects. I recently went through my WIP to update everything and do a little brainstorming, and there are 42 projects on it :) not even counting a couple very long multi-chaptered things.