Sep 2, 2025
Whatever you say officer.
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Whatever you say officer.
Pedro Pascal as Detective Tim Rockford for Merge Mansion (2023)
Only Yours, Always Yours
5K (includes 14 screenshots) / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader
Summary: You find out you’re not the only woman bringing Tim lunch at the precinct.
Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI pls). New relationship, minor angst/hurt then comfort (the FLUFFIEST comfort!), a bit of PiV 🤷🏻♀️, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, gorgeous, baby).
A/N: Another epistolary fic because we know Emily loves those! 😁 For this instalment of The Rockford Portfolio we go back in time! We know Tim and Shutterbug to be a deeply loyal and devoted couple, but what about when they first started dating? Did Shutterbug ever feel insecure in how Tim felt? This one takes place about two months after their third first date (Third Time’s the Charm) and a little bit before Skittles; even though there are a few references to stories that happened earlier in the timeline, as with all instalments, can be read standalone. Epistolary texts inspired by the TikTok trend where people “dry text” their significant others, but I didn’t want to prank Tim again (we prank the poor man so much 😂😂😭😂) Lots of relationship milestones in this one - hope you enjoy!
Dividers by @saradika-graphics - ty! / Series Masterlist
Stepping through the front doors of Tim’s precinct, you’re nearly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of activity taking place. The police station is buzzing with life; plainclothes and uniformed officers alike rush about, hustling between assignments and chattering shoptalk while the background fills with a symphony of phones ringing and perps singing – justice, it seems, is fast-paced, sort of chaotic, and loud. Having been here a handful of times since that fateful day Tim helped you retrieve your phone from Evidence, you know that Tim’s office is somewhere upstairs, but you’ve never been here without his escort before.
Are you allowed to just go up or do you have to be… announced? It doesn’t strike you as prudent for a police precinct to allow just anyone to wander in and around at their leisure - it’s probably best if you inquire at the front desk.
“Excuse me, could you tell me where I might find Detective Tim Rockford?”
The dispatch officer takes one look at you and the paper bag from the sandwich place where you picked up Tim’s lunch and chirps, “Upstairs, head towards the bullpen and it’s the fourth office on the right, hun.”
After thanking her, you head directly to the staircase at the back of the building; on your way up, you pass two patrolmen who shoot you an amused look and say to one another once they think you’re out of earshot:
“Another day, another beautiful woman bringing lunch to Detective Rockford.”
“Different girl every day, too. Each one cuter than the last. Guess that’s one of the perks of being the famous detective who put Grandma Ursula behind bars.”
“I wonder how he decides who to call each day?”
“Man can’t lose with a roster like that!”
They chuckle heartily, unaware that their words have stalled your ascent and that you’re currently paralyzed on the landing with your heart having dropped into your stomach, shocked by what you’ve just heard.
Tim’s dating other people?
The station noise that had only a moment ago been so loud and bustling muffles to a near silence as you resume climbing the stairs, lost in thought. It’s only been a little over two months since you started dating Tim, but it honestly feels like a lot longer. You see Detective Rockford multiple times a week and spend most of those same nights in his arms; on the infrequent days you’re apart, it’s easy to still feel the comfort of his presence with how much the two of you text or talk. Your relationship really hit the ground running after the Grandma Ursula verdict, both of you eager to make up for those long months apart during the trial.
Even amid the separation, your feelings couldn’t help but grow for the man; they took on a life of their own, with your thoughts and sometimes dreams often turning to Tim, welcoming this idea of him further into your heart where his quality lingered and blossomed despite the lack of contact. It hardly seems possible, but everyday since your reunion, Tim has only lived up to, often surpassing your fantasy of him – in all the ways your detective presents himself, especially in how he cares for and treats you, Tim is incomparable to any other man you’ve ever met.
You’re head over heels in love with him.
Despite how close you’ve grown, the two of you have yet to discuss what you are to one another or put any official label on your relationship - up until right now, it hasn’t felt necessary; Tim has been incredible at making you feel like the most special woman on the planet - he makes you ridiculously happy and brings such a joy to your life, the very idea of dating anyone else utterly ludicrous to you.
But apparently, Tim doesn’t feel the same way.
In a semi-trance, you continue to follow the downstairs officer’s instructions, legs feeling more and more lead-like as you approach Tim’s office. When the man finally comes into view, the handsomeness of his face, furrowed in concentration as he pours over the spread-out police files on his desk, makes you heart balloon and press painfully at the tightness you now hold in your chest.
You’re just about to knock on the doorframe of his office when Tim’s keen detective sense alerts him to your presence, “Shutterbug! This is a nice surprise!” The stunning, almost boyish grin that breaks across Tim’s weathered face only serves to close up your throat even further.
As your detective rounds his desk for a proper greeting, you step forward tentatively, arm awkwardly outstretched with the takeout you brought, attempting to maintain some distance.
“What’s this, baby?”
With a crooked, happy smile, Tim takes the bag from you and pulls you in by the waist for a sweet kiss, crushing you to him in a big bear hug – the type that would normally set your body aflame.
But not today. Today, the envelope of Tim’s arms feels foreign and stifling, threatening to trap you alone with the growing ache that’s slowly strangling your heart.
“Shutterbug?”
The gentle tone of Tim’s baritone brings you back momentarily; the touch of his lips to yours is so eager yet tender, you wish you could melt into the kiss, body already arching and seeking the comfort that you know only he can provide. But an involuntary sob threatens to crawl up your throat and escape, so instead, you push away under the guise of helping Tim open the bag you brought. Avoiding eye contact, you try to keep your voice steady, “I had a meeting out by the place that makes those chicken sandwiches you like, so I thought I’d bring you lunch.”
Tim peeks in the bag, his smile growing, “Thank you, baby. This is so sweet and thoughtful. How did I get so lucky?” You shrug, noncommittally, “It’s nothing,” but Tim won’t let you off the hook so easily. His warm palm comes up to cup your face, a rough thumb strokes your cheek affectionately, “It’s everything to me. Will you join me for lunch, Shutterbug?”
Truth be told, you had originally planned on it, but now the very idea of sitting across from Tim, wondering who else (and how many who elses) might have recently occupied that same seat for their very own lunch date with Detective Rockford, sounds like your own personal hell. The sudden realization that any of Tim’s other paramours might be promised exclusivity before you, over you, makes you want to burst out in tears on the spot.
You have to get out of here.
Shaking your head, you attempt an apologetic expression, “Sorry, can’t. Have to get back to work.”
With difficulty, Tim tries to hide his disappointment – your unexpected appearance and considerate gesture have turned his decidedly sour Monday mood right around; he’s hardly surprised – every time he sees you, it’s the best part of his day. Tim’s not even sure how to describe or express how grateful he is for the way you brighten the dark corners of the world he occupies; selfishly, he wants to keep you for himself a little longer today, “Are you sure? There are two sandwiches in here.”
“A snack for later, Detective,” giving Tim a quick peck on the cheek, you’re eager to make your getaway before he realizes something is wrong or the tears you’ve been desperately keeping at bay finally spill over – both inevitable if you stay any longer.
“Thank you again, Shutterbug. This means so much to me,” Detective Rockford squeezes your hand affectionately as you pull away and start retreating from his office, “Call you later?”
With the remaining vestige of control over your emotions crumbling, you nod quickly and smile tight, “Sure! Bye, Detective. Have a good rest of your day.” Spinning on your heels, you scurry hastily back the way you came, tears already cascading down your cheeks by the time you’re running down the front steps of the police precinct.
Group chat with the girls (7 screenshots)
Later that night (Monday) (2 screenshots)
Tuesday Night (2 screenshots)
Wednesday Night (3 screenshots)
Thursday night
No messages from Tim
Friday night
You exit the subway and trudge towards your apartment building, steps feeling as heavy as your heart. The past few days have been nothing short of tortuous – your attempts to distance yourself from Tim have done nothing to mend or strengthen your broken heart, and instead, it’s only hurt you further to act so unnaturally cold and unfeeling towards the man who’s always made it so easy and safe for you to be open and carefree. Even worse, closing yourself off has had another even more devastating consequence.
It’s been over a day of radio silence from Tim – it appears that in your efforts to give your heart a little breathing room, all you’ve done is succeeded in pushing him away, possibly for good. Gosh, you really messed things up.
As much as you were wounded by the revelation that Tim’s been seeing other people, you didn’t blame him for it at all, nor have your own feelings for him diminished in the slightest. Detective Rockford is still the finest man you’ve ever been acquainted with – he makes you giddy with laughter and elated with promise, all while making you feel like the like the most treasured and beautiful woman in the world. You miss his company, his sweetness, and the safety and comfort of his arms – never mind the taste of his lips on your tongue and the drag of his cock along your clenching walls. You just miss him, all of him.
And now you’ve ruined everything.
Rounding the corner of your block, you’re wallowing in the misery of your own making when you’re stopped in your tracks by the most wonderous sight waiting outside of your building.
As if your yearning heart manifested him, it’s Tim.
Looking the very definition of dashing, he’s leaning against the hood of his department issued Crown Vic, hulking frame unwound, work tie loosened and leather holster hanging slack off his slumped shoulders – while a slight departure from his usual picture of stoicism and confidence, to you, Detective Rockford appears formidable all the same. When you spot the bouquet of peonies in his right hand, your heart skips a beat.
“Tim?”
The look of joy that overtakes Detective Rockford’s face when he looks up to see you is so incandescent and pure, you immediately abandon any pretense of remaining aloof and run straight for the man, quickening your steps even more when you see his arms open wide at your approach.
Crashing hard into Tim’s chest, you melt instantly against his warmth - body relaxing and heart swelling at the feeling of home. When the gentleness of Tim’s large paw cradles the back of your neck and pulls you in even closer, the dam finally breaks; all the tears you’ve been holding back, tears of relief, shame, sadness, loneliness, fall freely, dampening Tim’s white dress shirt.
Detective Rockford holds you patiently and protectively, letting you cry until your whimpers fade - all while murmuring into your hair, “I’m here, baby. You’re okay, I’ve got you” over and over in a reassuring and loving tone. Only when he feels the tension dissipate from your lithe frame, does Tim adjust you in his arms; putting your flower bouquet on the hood of his car so he can use both hands, Tim wipes your wet cheeks and tilts your face upwards so he can meet your eyes with the understanding and care in his own, “Shutterbug, tell me what’s wrong. And don’t say it’s nothing. I’m a detective, you know?”
You chuckle softly at Tim’s attempt to inject some light humour into your current situation, appreciating the normally brusque detective’s willingness to show you his soft underbelly, his vulnerability, even amidst his own uncertainty. He deserves so much, certainly more than you’ve been giving him these past few days; nodding, you agree to his request, “And a very good one.”
The smile your words elicit squeezes your heart, comforting and safe - making you feel just a teeny bit braver,
“I’ve been…”
“I hadn’t thought about…”
Ever so understanding, Tim allows you to start and stop your sentences as you stumble and pause, trying, not without effort, to gather and organize your thoughts; he rubs gentle and encouraging circles on your lower back, and keeps his expression soft and indulgent while watching as you take deep breaths, your brow furrowing in thoughtfulness and sometimes frustration – he thinks you must be trying to spare his feelings.
“Did I do something, baby? Make you mad? Hurt you?”
Your eyes snap up to meet Tim’s worried ones, “No! Oh no! You didn’t do anything, Tim.”
Though he continues to lovingly stroke your face, the storm in Tim’s eyes belies the gentleness of his actions; you grab Tim’s wrists and pull them to your heart, grounding yourself with his strength, “Really, Tim, I mean it. You haven’t done anything wrong! It was me,” you sigh, “I’m the one who made a mistake.”
Though you’re looking at him earnestly, such genuine doubt remains in Tim’s expression, it tears your heart in two; unable to stand it any longer, you force yourself to tame the storm of your emotions and elocute your jumbled thoughts once and for all:
“Even though we never had a talk about it, I guess I assumed we weren’t… seeing other people. I didn’t do it consciously, I don’t think? And I’m not sure why I was under that impression except maybe whenever we’re together, you make me feel so special and taken care of… that I… I dunno… and I mean, I’m not? Seeing anyone else that is. So, when I found out that you are…” You drop your head, unable to look at Tim as your voice starts to crack, “… I… needed some time to process how I feel about it.”
You try to soften your tone into something a little more apologetic, though you still can’t meet the detective’s gaze, “You can probably tell that even now, I don’t have it all figured out, but one thing I am sure of is that I don’t blame you at all, Tim!” You’re missing the look of utter confusion on Tim’s face as you hurry to continue, “Like I said, we haven’t discussed exclusivity and you certainly haven’t made me any promises - you’re well within your rights to date other people. I’m sorry for how cold I’ve been acting this week – it’s felt simply awful and hasn’t helped at all to be honest, but more than anything, it’s been completely unfair to you. I’m so sorry, Detective.”
Finishing lamely and still unable to look at the man directly, you wait for Tim’s response with your head hung and your shoulders hunched until two thick fingers press gently under your chin and lift your face until it meets a pair of extremely kind eyes; when he speaks, Detective Rockford’s calming voice rumbles with emotion, “Thank you for extending your grace to me, gorgeous, but I promise you, I’m not seeing anyone else.”
Puzzled, you examine the handsome face of the man before you for answers and find only the sincerity and truthfulness that you’ve come to expect from him; Tim’s searching your expression as well, his concern and confusion evident. At your continued silence, he carries on in what he hopes is a convincing and reassuring manner, “Shutterbug, I genuinely could not imagine wanting to date anyone except you – you’re everything I never thought I’d be lucky enough to find in a partner: considerate, smart, kind. You inspire me to be the best version of myself every day. My life is immeasurably better because you’re in it – you’re like pure, warm sunshine; so bright that I can’t see past you and I don’t want to see past you. No one else has existed for me since the day we met at the aquarium. Only you. Always you.”
Tim’s confession melts you completely. To know that his feelings have so closely mirror your own sends your heart into flight; you tell him as much as your hand comes up to gently run through his facial scruff in the way you know he likes, “I feel just as strongly about you, Detective. I haven’t looked at or thought about anyone else since the day we met, nor have I wanted to. At times, I’ve wondered if I’m making too much of it, my feelings for you… but… you’re undeniable, Tim - no one else compares. I’ve only wanted to date you, and I… only want you to date me.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Tim beams, “and for the record, Shutterbug, though I never expected it of you, I’ve always hoped that I’m the only one you’re seeing as well.”
You nod to seal in your promise, “Only you, Detective Rockford.”
Tim leans in and presses a sweet, but purposeful kiss to your waiting lips – unaware of how much he’s needed this affirmation; he finds his entire being feels lighter, heart bursting from the confirmation that you feel for him what he feels for you. Licking in, the detective strokes covetously along your tongue as you open for him, claiming again what you’ve just declared as his. You respond in kind, moaning softly and drinking in your detective’s generosity, your body returning his affections and devotion in kind as you sink into his embrace - heart basking in the knowledge that a place has been carved out for you and only you in these strong arms.
With a palpable sense of relief and happiness, like an imaginary albatross has finally been lifted from your shoulders, you break the kiss with a sigh, closing your eyes in contentment before nestling deeper into Tim’s hard chest; your detective’s lips press tenderly to your forehead at your closeness, murmuring, “What made you think I was seeing other people, baby?”
Instinctively, you try to shrink away again, the uncertainty and doubt from that day resurfacing momentarily before the kindness of Tim’s touch reminds you of what you know to be real – slightly embarrassed, you share what you heard from the beat cops when you brought him lunch on Monday.
You’re somewhat relieved to see a true and intense look of confusion cross Tim’s handsome face as he absorbs your words, gears in his brilliant mind grinding tirelessly before a relieved look of epiphany emerges, “Oh Shutterbug! You’re going to think this is so stupid. I mean, it IS stupid.” Chuckling to himself, Tim continues to caress your face sweetly as he explains, “They thought you were a food delivery girl, baby.”
“Like, for take out?” you scrunch you face up in that cute way Tim loves when you find something interesting or just plain silly.
“Yeah,” Tim scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed, “I… don’t really cook and with the Pie case ramping up lately, I’ve just been getting my food delivered instead of going out to pick it up. Someone at the precinct made an observation about how good looking all the delivery people seem to be, and now it’s blown up into this joke or whatever, that I only order from restaurants for their cute runners.” Looking sheepish, Tim shrugs, unsure at how you’ll take this revelation.
“Do you really get take out that much, Tim? That’s not good for you, Detective,” you tut, concerned for Tim’s sodium levels and cholesterol. The man’s shoulders relax as he exhales, visibly relieved – heart settling, Tim chides himself for momentarily forgetting your sweetness; of course, the only concern his beloved Shutterbug would have with his colleague’s ridiculous razzing would be for his health.
“I know, baby. I gotta eat better.”
“And?”
Tim looks to you, one eyebrow cocked quizzically.
“… are they all cute?” You try to hide your mischief by making the question sound small, but you don’t fool Tim for a second - the amused crinkle of your pretty eyes giving your playfulness away.
Though he knows he’s not in any danger, Tim’s response carries an emotional gravity that he cannot help. “I genuinely never notice, gorgeous,” cupping your face in his rough palms, he continues, “when I said that I’m only seeing you, I meant it. I only see you, Shutterbug.”
Damn this romantic man. You sigh at Tim’s words – though a little cheesy, you love to hear them, “I believe you, Detective. I suppose I really assumed the worst about what I overheard. It’s just that those cops sounded so in awe, like you were some type of Casanova with an endless stream of women parading in and out of your office… I guess I got…”
“Jealous?” now Tim’s doing the teasing, but still, your heart clenches remembering how shattered you felt in that moment. “Maybe?” you admit, defeated, “but mainly just sad. Sad at the realization you might not choose me.”
“Hey, hey,” Tim’s tone turns serious again as he leans close, nuzzling his strong nose lovingly against yours, “Shutterbug, there never was and there will never be any universe where I don’t choose you.”
Nodding, teary eyed, your smile quivers with emotion because you believe your detective - you truly do. Kissing him again, your roles somehow having reversed, you reassure Tim that he remains secure and safe in your esteem, always, with every passionate brush of your lips over his. It strikes you, as you lead Detective Rockford’s tongue in a slow, sensual dance, that this is what you love most about being with Tim: feeling like true partners, equals.
In the short time you’ve been together, a trust has been built, one that’s solid and foundational, with sincerity and honesty its pillars – you’re each willing to be what the other needs without hesitation, a place of solace where vulnerability is celebrated and safeguarded, comfort always freely offered. Tim is your match, your person. All yours, as you’re all his.
“Do you want to come up, Tim?” you smile against his smile.
“If you didn’t ask, I was going to try and bribe you,” Detective Rockford winks cheekily and tilts his head towards the front passenger seat of his car - you peer through the window to find a big bag of Chinese food takeout.
Before you can come up with a sassy remark, Tim quips, “No delivery, I picked that up myself.”
You laugh a sing-songy laugh that hugs Detective Rockford’s heart before opening the car door to grab the food, still humming something melodic and joyful as you use your free hand to pull Tim towards your building.
Up in your apartment, you watch from your kitchen entrance as Tim meticulously arranges your new peonies in a vase before unpacking all of your favourite dishes and spreading them out on your kitchen counter. This tank of a man, all broadness and ferocity, strength evident even with his back turned, looks so at home in your home with his guard down, gentle and thoughtful – every quiet and considerate action broadcasting his trust in you, his care of you.
How lucky are you to be chosen by him?
“Tim,” you purr, coming up behind the man and snaking your arms around his thick torso, gently urging him to put down the containers in his hand. Detective Rockford turns his neck to look at you and the lust that shines from your pretty eyes hardens him instantly.
Turning him around, you place your hands on Tim’s mountainous shoulders and slip your fingers beneath the warm leather straps of the detective’s gun holster, voice sultry, “Dinner later. Please take me to bed, Tim.”
Needing no convincing, Tim wraps his arms around you and curls one hand up into your hair, hungry; the other dips past your waist to grab a fistful of your plush ass as he begins to walk you backwards towards the bedroom. Your detective swallows your needy moans with punishing open-mouth kisses that you return ten-fold, craving him as much as he does you. When the back of your legs hit the edge of your bed, you fall, giggling, and land with a bounce, breath stolen by the dark look in Detective Rockford’s eyes as he starts to climb over your willing body.
He's surprised when you stop his progress with a firm press of your hand to his chest, but waits patiently for you to give him the go ahead. There’s something in your pleading expression, a shyness and uncertainty that gives Tim further pause – don’t you know he would give you anything, everything you asked for?
The world.
“Tim,” you whisper, “if you wanted, we don’t have to… use a condom? It’s just us, you and me. I want to feel you. And I want you to feel me.”
Detective Rockford’s cock throbs as your words, “Are you sure, Shutterbug?”
Emotional, you nod, “I trust you, Tim. I want you to mark me as yours.” Nervousness evaporating, replaced by happy confidence, you coo, “Because I am. Yours, all yours. Only yours.”
Tim’s response is to crash his lips to yours, feral in his pride of having been claimed, desperate to prove to you tonight, tomorrow, forever he hopes, that he’s worthy of this trust and affection. Already belonging to you wholly and completely, he swears to pledge his allegiance tonight with his tongue, fingers, his cock and erase any notion that he could ever be anything but yours. Always yours.
---
Tim fucks you slow and tender all night.
Every drag of his cock, every brush of his leaking head against those deepest, most precious parts of you, slow and reverent. Tim gets lost in the feel of you, all of you: the clutch of your velvet cunt, the way your slick coats his throbbing shaft, how your warmth hugs and molds to him – all of it a confirmation of tonight’s vows and Tim’s personal heaven.
You feel it too, this change, this shift in how you fit together now – not just in the press of your bodies here in bed, but in how you belong to one another.
Your moans and cries ring out into the night, a serenade to the man who fills you. Tim’s own throaty groans answer in duet before swallowing your melody with endless, passion filled kisses; biting his tongue to keep the words he really wants to sing from spilling out.
I love you.
Tim loves you.
He loves everything and anything that is you; from your sweet laugh, your smart mouth, your even smarter brain, to your tender heart and your kind eyes. He loves the power you hold over him, the way you understand and hold space for all his Tim-ness, and how you make him want to be the best man he can be. For you. Only you. Always you.
Tim loves you but tonight isn’t right for him to say the L-word for the first time. It’s not that he feels it’s too soon, not anymore anyways; he also knows he’ll be the first to say it and he doesn’t mind that in the least either. Heck, he’s already said it – on your third first date, the words had come tumbling out when you helped him with the Pie case; Tim wonders if perhaps even then, they had been true - his mouth and brain unable to filter what his heart already knew was inevitable.
No, Tim won’t say those words now and risk them getting lost amongst the rest of tonight’s confessions. For the same reason he’s had to hold his tongue every time he’s been struck by how you take such prodigious care of him, leave him in awe of your wit, cleverness or considerate nature, or when he’s just simply mesmerized by how truly beautiful you are, inside and out - Tim would prefer for those three little words to not intermix with feelings of gratitude, admiration or lust. He would like the debut of his declaration to stand on its own – for you to hear those words for the first time in a moment of stillness that holds only love, so you know just how deeply they’re felt.
For tonight, Tim forces them back down his throat, back to his overflowing heart - to wait, to grow. In their stead, he growls praise at how well you take him, how good you feel, how perfect you are. Made for him. All words as true as the ones he won’t yet speak, and his heart balloons just the same when you whimper in agreement as he makes you come over and over and over.
---
Later, both completely spent and blissed out from your love-making and with your stomachs full of the takeout Tim thoughtfully brought over, you curl around each other’s sated bodies, ready for a well-earned night’s sleep. Tim pulls you close; all the tension from having been distanced from you this past week having now evaporated, he finds he can finally fully relax, practically melting into the mattress.
He’s on the last leg of his journey to dreamland, about to slip into deep REM, when from somewhere still in the waking world, he hears you whisper his name.
“Tim?”
He’s too far away, too close to sleep to answer - registering your voice only as an ethereal echo. If there was any urgency or sharpness in your tone, he would be compelled to wretch himself from the foothold of his inviting slumber in order to crawl back to you – even while unconscious, Tim is sure that if you call, he will come. But there’s no expectation or need in the way you’re saying his name – it’s said quietly, like a question, a gentle poke to see if he’s still awake.
He's not.
Satisfied that Detective Rockford is in fact asleep, you press a soft, barely there kiss to his lips and snuggle back into the safety of his hold, throwing your arm over the warmth of his soft belly like you would a teddy bear plush – closing your eyes, you whisper into the ether, “I love you, Tim.”
Drifting off almost immediately, you don’t see Tim smiling in his sleep; blissfully unaware that the steady heartbeat that’s lulling you into your own peaceful slumber upticks and taps out its own responding sentiment, strong and true: I love you more, Shutterbug.
Tagging a few sweet souls who have always been so supportive of these babies 🥹: @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @baronessvonglitter @sawymredfox @tateypots
@inept-the-magnificent @sunnytuliptime @lillaydee @kulekehe @ghotifishreads
@greenwitchfromthewoods @angiewatson @nandan11 @tuquoquebrute @harriedandharassed
Thank you all so much for reading! Still getting back into the groove of writing, so I think I'm going to try and make this month "Timtober" since I have a few WIPs on the go for our couple! Hopefully next week we will see "Nightmares" and then after that, a little Halloween special 🤞🏻🤞🏻
Clitwarming - Sub!Pedro boy of your choice x afab!reader - Drabble
Rating: +18 Summary: Just a little thought that crossed my mind this morning, I hope you like it 😏 tags: smutty filthy Drabble I just needed to get out of my system, title is pretty self explanatory, right? pussy pronouns used once, Pedro boy of your choice is your perfect sub, reader is afab and not described besides having pussy. I've decided to leave it up to you to imagine this with your favorite Pedro Boy (I love to imagine Joel, but any choice is valid and satisfying, so why not?). English is not my first language. Not edited so if you find any mistake: I'm very sorry 🙏🏻
Soooo cockwarming is a big thing, right?
Now imagine clitwarming instead. Cause you need to have good things too.
You need someone who is so enthralled with your pussy that would kneel down between your legs and just stay there while you’re watching a movie or your favorite show, rubbing his cheek like a kitten on your leg, kissing you inner thigh, softly whispering “please.” Preferably a big broad man, pleading and needy. Like a Pedro boy. Like sub!Pedro boy. And who are you to deny him when he looks at you with those sweet brown eyes? So you just move your hips on the sofa to allow him to take off your panties. And his breath is already short just at the sight of your pussy exposed for him. But you gently scold him, “Keep her warm until this is over.”
He parts your pussy lips with two fingers and opens his mouth, welcoming your clit between his lips. They’re warm and enveloping around you, his saliva coating your button. But you don't give him any satisfaction, you stay still, focused on your favorite show, while he remains there, silent, his lips closed around your most private part.
When he senses that you are beginning to throb and drip into his mouth, he gives a gentle lick.
He closes his eyes, relishing you, your juices oozing onto his tongue.
And he's already content just like that, admiring you, pleasing you, worshipping you.
You've given it to him, and that's enough.
He moans on your bundle of nerves, sending a vibration through your whole body. And he is not impatient, he is not nervous, his cheek is resting on your thigh, his lips are relaxed, his tongue wraps around you and laps lazily.
You've granted him the honor of doting over your wet, warm clit, his tongue exploring, flicking, caressing, his nose pressing into you as well, giving you that extra stimulation as he slowly moves up and down from time to time.
He just stays there, your clit in his mouth, as you get wetter and wetter, squirming on the couch but trying to hold on cause it's just the finest shit you've ever had, him wrapped all over you like that, his mustache glistening, his chin wet, his lips swollen.
He growls at your scent and licks every drop and you can see the growing bulge in his pants.
He doesn't complain, though, because it's not about him, it's about you. This is just for you; you're the center of attention.
During the closing credits, you bury your hand in his dark curls, pulling and twirling them between your fingers. He looks up, his eyes veiled, full of lust and desire, so dark that you can't distinguish his pupils from his irises. “Suck,” you whisper, your voice firm, commanding. And he smiles, a broad, grateful, ecstatic smile.
And he loosens his reins, starts sucking harder, his tongue moves frantically over you, his greedy mouth drinks every drop and wants more and more and more. His fingertips tease your entrance, as if in a silent request, waiting for your permission to fill you up.
You nod. And you feel his knuckles slowly making their way inside you, curving in just the right way, reaching that soft spot. He taps rhythmically as he continues to lick and swirl and flick and slurp until he feels you twitching and pulsing so hard he just knows you're about to give in.
When you explode into his mouth he's the happiest to clean all the mess, drank on your pussy, mesmerized by your scent, eyes locked on you as you throw your head back and close your eyes, your back arches, your legs tremble uncontrollably, and you squirt into his mouth, moaning his name like a prayer.
When you come to your senses, you glance at his wet pants, a large dark stain spreading across the front.
You caress his cheek, feeling his beard prickle your palm deliciously.
He smiles, a little self conscious and oh, so sweet, so gentle and just content with what he just provided for you.
"You're such a good boy for me, darling"
Kinktober 2025
All days will be completed with various characters. The Mandalorian, Ezra (Prospect), Frankie Morales, Javier Peña, Agent Whiskey, Pero Tovar, Oberyn Martell, Marcus Pike, Dave York, Max Phillips, Max Lord, Marcus Moreno, Zach Wellison, Dieter Bravo, Javi Gutierrez, Joel Miller, Tim Rockford, Marcus Acacius, Clint Flood, Harry Castillo, Ted Garcia, Reed Richards
** All prompts will be completed as Female Reader
Kinktober List Here
Day 1: Swinging/Swapping Partners - Reed Richards/Sue Storm/Marcus Moreno
Day 2. Roleplay - Ted Garcia
Day 3. Anal Sex - Joel Miller
Day 4. Sensory Depravation - Mando
Day 5. Caning - Oberyn Martell
Day 6. Knotting - Marcus Acacius
Day 7. Tentacles - Pero Tovar
Day 8. Double Penetration - Clint Flood/Javier Peña
Day 9. Somnophilia - Max Lord
Day 10. Knife Play - Javi Gutierrez
Day 11. Oral - Agent Whiskey
Day 12. Thigh Riding - Harry Castillo
Day 13. Phone Sex - Max Phillips
Day 14. Uniform - Zach Wellison
Day 15. Piercing - Dieter Bravo
Day 16. Cuckolding - Tim Rockford
Day 17. Weight Gain - Frankie Morales
Day 18. Anonymous Sex - Marcus Pike
Day 19. Hunter/Prey//Oviposition - Mando
Day 20. Glory Hole - Ted Garcia
Day 21. Rimming/Anallingus - Dieter Bravo
Day 22. Orgy//Exhibitionism - Marcus Acacius
Day 23. A/B/O - Marcus Moreno
Day 24. Voyeurism//Gangbang - Harry Castillo
Day 25. Masturbation - Max Phillips
Day 26. Hatefucking//Begging//Mirror - Oberyn Martell
Day 27. DeepThroating/Gagging - Reed Richards
Day 28. Monster Fucking - Clint Flood
Day 29. Pregnancy//Bondage - Dave York
Day 30. Breeding/Impregnation - Ezra
Day 31. Free For All - Mando
oh. so we want more pedro character parallels? okay. sure. my brain is rotting with them.
and lest we forget the smile to scary™
that's all. ok bye!
Pedro Character sex headcanons - Part 1
Part 2 here
My masterlist
You can barely get in the door of Tim Rockford's apartment before he's all over you. Pressing you against the door as he bolts it shut, then he's kissing down your neck, sliding his hand up your skirt and taking you apart with his thick fingers before he fucks you on the hall table.
Tim is a busy man and when he finally gets a chance to spend an evening with you he's not wasting one fucking second.
Javi Gutierrez wants to wine and dine you first. You get to his place in Hollywood Hills and he's had his chef cook you a nice meal, and chosen the perfect bottle of wine to go with it. After, you move to his balcony with a new bottle of wine, share a joint and when you finally get too strung out from the flirting touches you climb on him and he makes the prettiest noises as you grind on him, but he's not fucking you out there where anybody could see. He's taking you to bed so he can take his time.
Din had only ever had rushed, transactional sexual experiences. Sex with feelings is totally new to him. He's so overwhelmed and overstimulated, so used to being in his armor and helmet all the time, that just the barest brush of skin to skin contact has him moaning and tensing, biting his lip until it's all swollen and red. He spends so much time attending to your needs and making you feel good, learning how to get you to make the prettiest noises. He doesn't want to be the only one dripping with arousal
Joel is a natural caretaker and service dom. He gets his pleasure from making you feel good. He makes you dinner (he has about five recipes he's really nailed and is confident with), then he rubs the knots in your back until you're loose and pliant and soft under his hands. Then he flips you over and plays with your tits til you're begging for it, before slipping two thick fingers inside you, thumbing at your clit until you squirt all over his wrist. Then he fucks you stupid, til you can't even think anymore. Then he's tucking you into bed, his arm wrapped around your middle with a palm full of titty, kissing your temple and telling you "shh, such a good girl for me. Sleep now and I'll take real good care o' ya in the morning baby."
Javier Peña has an air of dom about him, but what he really wants is to be taken care of for once. You get to his place and he's all cocky and confident as he brings you off on the couch. But then you climb onto his lap and you're kissing his face, running your hands through his hair and whispering words of praise in his ear as you wrap your hand around him, stroking him before you slip him inside you. He moans so prettily as you circle your hips, pressing kisses to his face, his hair, his hands as his fingers lace with yours. His skin pricks with goosebumps as he finally comes inside you with a choked cry, his arms wrapping around and his face burying into your neck as he's dripping out of you, down your thighs and onto his lap.
Dave York is a dom in all meanings of the word. But he's a proper dom, a real one. He knows that consent and trust is important, and that the sub holds all the real power, because they're allowing the play in the first place and setting the limits.
Dave greets you at the door, makes you drink a glass of water, and is practically fucking you with his eyes while you go over the rules and the limits for today's scene. He's full of praise when you communicate your understanding, when you repeat your safeword, and he's really full of praise when he enters the bedroom five minutes later and you're kneeling on the floor, hands ready and waiting to be tied behind your back before he fucks your throat, before edging you to the most powerful orgasm you've ever had with just his fingers and his voice. Then he tells you how fucking good you are, "you're such a good fucking girl, honey. Look at you, taking this big cock like a champ. Pussy's so fucking hungry, huh? Don't worry. I'll feed her real good. Make her swallow it up."
Frankie is the pussy eating king, yes. But it's more than skill. It's his fucking *passion*. He loves everything about it. The taste, the smell. The feel underneath his tongue. The noises you make. Frankie takes his time. He's all slow licks and sucks, soft, whiskery kisses up your thighs until your legs are shaking with want. He toys with you until you can't take it anymore, bringing you slowly to the brink and then backing off, planting kisses on your thighs and knees and tummy until your breathing evens out. When you can't take it anymore, he stops teasing. He dives nose first into that pussy, the intensity of it making your swear and shake as he shows you just how quickly he can get you there, and just how much he was toying with you by making you wait so long. Yeah, Francisco Morales plays with his food.
Marcus Acacius likes to fuck you in the sunlight. He's had a lifetime of dimly lit tents and rented rooms, and he wants none of those reminders when he's with you. Your union is everything good and powerful and pure. It belongs in the light, in the warmth of day. He loves to take you apart underneath him, his broad shoulders and big, calloused hands making you feel smaller and even more precious, the stark contrast of your soft skin underneath his hands that have known a lifetime of work and battle.
He kisses you so sweetly, fucks you face to face so he can see the look on your face, the light in your eyes as he worships you, thumbing your clit with his free hand as he braces himself above you with one strong forearm. He's hoping this is the time it takes. He can't wait to see you round and glowing, bountiful as the fall harvest.
Part 2
Pedro Pascal Mandolorian promo