This man really has two sides, firstly he will obviously try to be a gentleman and treat you like royalty or as if he is afraid to touch you and break you in some way. The first few times you two have sex are really focused on Felix making you cum first, often he'll just eat you out or make you sit on his face while he uses his fingers to play with your clit, showering you with compliments and often a few words coming out in German because he's too excited to formulate a sentence in English.
He'll make you cum so hard you won't even be able to stand up from all the shaking – Neumann is the kind of man who will go to great lengths to make you squirt and leave you relaxed enough to stop thinking about your problems, especially if the two of you are on a mission together.
He likes to tell you how beautiful and radiant you are with every move you make in bed, his hands will grip your waist while his blue eyes stare at your breasts that swing with every deep thrust of his cock into your cunt. "Fuck... Those are the most beautiful tits I've ever seen, schatz..." the older blond would praise you while making you tremble with his touch, the combination of his cock penetrating you with his fingers on your clit was enough to make you cum before him, and then he would be able to cum without the weight of the conscience of "using" you.
However, he has a very dominant side and when he is stressed and loses control, he cannot maintain his pacifist and oakish appearance, making you even surprised by the change of personality he can have.
The German will fuck you and maneuver you like a rag doll around the room, changing positions every time you are going to cum just to take his cock out and hold your face, staring into your eyes. "Haven't you heard yet, you little whore? You're only going to cum when I tell you to."
He will bite you, mark you, cum on your face and will act like everything but the gentleman he is when he is in his normal state. He would growl, his hips snapping forward, fucking you harder and harder. His cock would be throbbing inside you, his balls slapping against your ass with each stroke. He then leaned forward, his teeth sinking into his shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave a mark.
"Holy Fuck... I'm gonna fill this tight little pussy with my cum... Gonna breed you like the little whore you are..." He then pulled out, his cock throbbing in his hand as he stroked, aiming for your pussy. He then came, his hot cum shooting out of his cock and landing on your pussy, coating your folds and clit with his thick seed.
"Mmm... That's it... Take my cum inside you... Let it fill you up..." He would purr, his fingers continuing to push his cum deeper into your pussy, making sure you were well filled with his seed.
However, after the moment of excitement and lust has passed, he will make sure you are okay and apologize if he was too rough, cleaning you up and kissing every mark he made – hugging you softly while wiping his cum off you with a wet tissue. "Rest, süsser... When you wake up I'll cook your favorite dish ok?"
♡ 𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍 ♡
Troy is initially much more distant and casual, putting up a barrier between the two of you because of his trauma with Jane and the lack of trust he has begun to feel toward others. He may be less vocal and simply enjoy your moans; small compliments may come from him occasionally, but nothing too affectionate if the two of you are nothing more than casual partners.
One of the most frequent things he'd say at first, and the closest he’d come to real affection, would be, "Fuck, babe, you're squeezing my dick so hard..." Marshall will only start showing you extra affection once you prove yourself trustworthy and demonstrate that you care about his feelings.
He enjoys doing 69 with you, but you’ll only reach that level of intimacy after earning it; before, he’d insisted that oral sex was too intimate for just 'friends with benefits.'
Troy’s mustache tickles a little, creating a unique friction against you, but he’ll make sure you get used to it and not think about it too much – especially since the combination of his tongue on your clit and you choking on his dick is enough to make your mind go blank. He'll still be dominant, but not like before. He’ll make you take your time, not rushing you or forcing his cock down your throat, and he’ll start to open up more to compliments.
"You're doing great, baby... You're fucking beautiful. Just take your time, okay?" Marshall would say calmly as he slid two fingers inside you, his tongue working in tandem to bring you to orgasm. This marked an evolution from the first meaningless encounters you had; it was no longer just a transition but a real feeling of making each other feel good.
He'll make you ride his cock after the second time he sees you cum on his fingers. You'll be sensitive enough for him to feel your walls squeezing him tightly, as if milking him was the only thing you knew how to do.
The previously degrading nicknames are now replaced by a mix of soft compliments. "That's it, little whore... You look so beautiful with my cock in that gorgeous pussy of yours. Do you hear that sound?" the taller man groans, holding your neck gently while thrusting faster, making your legs tremble. His other hand grips your waist, keeping you from falling, even though you barely feel your toes touching the wooden floor anymore.
"Hear that? You're dripping—uh, fuck, hot as fuck." He growls softly, giving your ass a slap before pulling his cock out of your wet heat and giving gentle taps on the outside of your pussy, prolonging your orgasm even more. He kisses you softly on the cheek, smiling smugly into your neck, though there’s a hint of affection there. "So desperate to cum, sweetheart? Use your words, and maybe I'll let you."
After finishing inside you, he cleans you up and offers one of his shirts to cover yourself. It’s rare, but sometimes he likes to share his bed with you. "Lie here; don’t worry, I'll be here when you wake up."
♡ 𝒂𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒍 ♡
This old mf disappeared and came back into your arms as if nothing had happened, but he's so homesick and stressed that your reunion will be him burying himself as deep as he can inside you.
After some arguing and him trying to apologize, he decides the best way to make it up to you is by fucking the frustration out of both of you. He drags you to an empty spot in the tower, far enough that Woods won’t have his afternoon nap interrupted by your moans. You try to resist, still upset about his sudden disappearance, but honestly, he loves it when you get feisty, when you try to push him away. It only makes him want you more.
"Shut up and take it, angel face." Russell growls in your ear as he sits you on his lap, pulling down your pants and spreading your thighs wide. He slips two fingers into your mouth for you to suck, then pulls them out and slides them into your pussy without warning. You feel filled by his thick digits—a bold move that makes you whimper—but he finally manages to make you stay quiet. "Oh fuck... You want me to stay right here, between these pretty legs, fucking this sweet pussy until you're a sobbing, shaking mess... Don't you?"
He makes you stand up just to have the pleasure of pressing you roughly against the wall, forcing you to stick your ass up for him. He spanks your sensitive flesh, watching you tremble and wet his fingers even more, like a bitch in heat. He bites your neck, leaving hickeys on your skin. "You missed this as much as I did... I know you did. Fuck, you're such a whore, aren't you? I don’t know how I had the courage to let you loose without my eyes on you all this time."
"One more, baby. Give me one more orgasm before I fuck this tight little cunt with my cock." His fingers never stopping their relentless assault on your pussy. He could feel you getting close again, your walls fluttering around his fingers, your juices dripping down his hand; When you finally came, he’d give you another slap, and before your knees could go weak, the older man quickly removed his pants, exposing his cock leaking pre-cum.
He easily lifts you, placing you in a full nelson position, with your back pressed against his chest and your legs wrapped around his waist. The head of his cock teases your entrance, and with one quick thrust, he buries himself inside you, stretching and filling you completely. "I found my paradise in the infernal heat of your beautiful pussy..."
He wouldn't stop until he made you squirt and be soft from cumming so much, he knew he had messed up with you but he couldn't deny the satisfaction of seeing you trembling and not even being able to formulate a complete sentence because his cock was kissing your cervix with each thrust.
Adler would groan hoarsely, kissing your face as his hips snapped forward, fucking you harder and harder. He could feel his balls slapping against your clit with each thrust, increasing the pleasure coursing through your body.
"You don't look so tough now, huh? Are you sure you don't want to forgive me?" He fucked you even harder, making you feel that warm sensation in your stomach as he finally made you cum all over his cock—and cum inside your cunt, too. He kept his cock buried inside you until it softened and came out on its own, making you drip his cum onto the floor. The older man would sit you down on the couch and lower himself onto your thighs, looking at your spent pussy. "We're not done yet. I'll only stop fucking you when you forget how much I hurt you, no matter how long that takes."
tags: spoilers for jake's backstory, wholesome fluff, established romantic relationship, angst (jake worrying about reader's safety)
jake seems like a laid back guy, who doesn't care about much, but this is just how he presents himself
he actually cares a lot, about the people he loves and especially you!
he's a very determined and caring person, but you're one of the few people who actually gets to see this side of him
after the loss of his brother, he doesn't want to lose anyone else, which leads to him being a overprotective of you, always having an eye on you, just to be sure
while jake seems very calm, he can get really upset, if you put yourself in danger. he lashes out at you, for being so reckless and careless, only to quickly feel bad for yelling at you
he doesn't want to lose you! he's so desperate to keep you safe, that sometimes his emotions just get the better of him
he always apologizes right after and you can always see he's genuine! he's been through a lot and those wounds just haven't properly healed yet…
jake isn't a good cook, so he can only really make rice and pasta, with some premade sauces. so most of the time, the two of you get take out for lunch and dinner!
you occasionally visit jake at work, bringing along some sandwiches or a bento box you made!
while at work, he always shows you around and he'll let you wear his cowboy hat, as he just loves how it looks on you!
Summary: You were Marshall's nurse, after he was shot by Simon Stulls. The two of you fall in love, and everything seems perfect, but it's strained by Marshall holding something back from you. His fear of losing you.
Pairing: Walter Marshall/Reader
Word Count: 6.5
Warning: M - Mention of Violence, PTSD, Severe Flashback, Mention of an ugly divorce, Language, Fluff, Alcohol Use, Mental Health battle - SMUT - fingering (F receiving), protected intercourse.
Inspiration: So, for this fic, I sort of meshed Marshall and Sy together into one.
Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!
If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’
Dating a homicide detective wasn't easy. Especially, when that homicide detective was Captain Walter Marshall.
The pair of you had met after Marshall was injured on the job, having been shot by Simon Stulls and his twin brother. You were the nurse that took care of Marshall, while he recovered from the near fatal wound that rendered him in the Intensive Care Unit for two weeks.
“How are we feeling tonight, Captain Marshall?” You asked, breezing into Marshall's private room, with a bright smile, finding your grumpy and sometimes difficult patient in his bed, one massive arm in a sling and the other working the remote control to his tv.
“Hm.” Marshall huffed back at you, rolling his eyes.
You chuckled at him, not taking it personally. “How's your pain level?” You inquired, checking his medical chart to see the notes from his previous nurse, before moving over to examine the vitals on his monitors. “Better than yesterday?” You asked, lifting a brow in his direction, remembering the discomfort he had been in.
“Six.” He rattled off the number, shrugging his good shoulder.
“Would you like me to get you anything for it?”
“No, I'm fine.” Marshall answered, sighing softly, setting the remote down on the little rolling table next to his bed and raked a hand through his hair. “I just want to get the hell out of here.”
“Is our hospitality that bad?” You quipped, giggling at him, hoping to get him to at least smile. “I could phone the manager.”
Marshall looked up, his blue eyes regarding you for a long moment, making you feel like he was reading your soul, before he finally responded. A twinkle in his gaze. “No, I'd hate to complain to the manager. Especially when there's one bright spot in the hospitality.”
“Well that's-” You gulped, shifting in your rubber nurse's clogs. “That's good to know, Captain Marshall.” You told him, a bit sheepish.
“Marshall.” He corrected you, gently. “Just call me, Marshall.”
“Marshall.” You smirked, nodding your head. “I'm glad you enjoy the hospitality. But I also hope you go home soon. I'm sure your daughter is ready for you too.” You said, changing the subject, so the heat in your cheeks would cool off.
“And, your wife.” You added, a small lump in your throat.
“Oh, she's-”
“Code Blue.” The Hospital P.A crackled over the speakers. “Code Blue. All personnel. Code Blue, room eighteen.”
“Oh crap!” You gasped, adrenaline starting to pump through your veins. “I'm so sorry!” You said quickly, before rushing out of his room.
Sadly, you weren't able to see Marshall again. Your code blue patient took up most of your time and when you were finished with them and your other rounds, Marshall had been released to go home. You were happy for him, even though you were a bit sad that you hadn't been able to say goodbye and see him off.
But you got another opportunity to come your way.
“Hey.” One of your co-workers tapped you on the shoulder as you stood at the nurse's station, filling out a medication request. “There's a super handsome guy asking for you.”
You looked up from the computer. “What?” You frowned at her, confused. “Who?”
“I don't know, I didn't get a name. But he's damned sexy.” She chuckled, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
Shaking your head, you leaned over the counter of the nurse's station, looking down the hall and towards the doors that allowed entry onto your floor. You were shocked to see Marshall standing there, reading one of the posters on the wall. “Oh my god!” You gasped, quickly pulling back, before he could see you.
“Do you know him?”
“Yeah, he was one of my patients.” You told her, fussing over your black, whimsical bee, scrubs and hair.
“Well, you must like each other.” She commented, watching you with amusement.
“Shut up.” You chuckled, going by her and trying to act natural and calm, despite being nervous beyond belief. “Marshall, what are you doing here? Is everything all right? Is your wound healing?” You asked, trying to be professional.
“Everything's fine.” He smiled at you, instinctively touching his shoulder. “It's healing great.”
“Then, what are you doing here?”
“I-uh-came to see you.” He confessed, biting the inside of his lip. “I wanted to know, if you'd like to get some coffee with me, sometime?” He asked, shoulders stiffening with resolve.
You narrowed your eyes at him, cocking your head to the side. “Aren't you married?”
Marshall drew in a deep breath, tightly folding his arms over his chest. “I was married, yes.” He replied, his face darkening. “Angie and I divorced some time ago. It's complicated and not something I'd like to get into.”
“All right, as long as I'm not being a home wrecker by accepting your offer.” You answered, relieved.
“I assure you, you're not.” Marshall said, relief dancing in his blue eyes. “So, when are you next available?”
You looked down at your watch, tilting your head side to side for a moment. “I can take my lunch break right now.” You told him, meeting his gaze with a smirk.
“All right.” He nodded, turning to push open one of the doors behind him, for you.
That day had changed both your and Marshall's lives. You quickly fell in love with each other and craved each other constantly. But there was a drawback to dating Marshall. You hadn't made that step to move in with each other yet, as much as you wanted too. So, you went to one another's place. It was usually Marshall coming over to your flat though, after he got off from his shift at the station. You would make him dinner and the two of you would cuddle up under a blanket on the couch with a glass of wine, or more specifically, a glass of wine for you and a glass of whiskey for him, to watch a movie or one of the shows the two of you had become interested in together.
“Walter.” You giggled, shifting beneath the heavy comforter the two of you were under, trying to watch Peaky Blinders.
“What?” He husked back, turning his head into the side of your face, moaning softly, while his hand squeezed the inside of your thigh again.
“Keep that naughty hand to yourself, Captain.” You teased, turning your face into his.
“Oh yeah?” You chuckled, smelling the sharp honey and caramel of the whiskey on his breath. “What's this?” You asked, rubbing your legs together against his hand.
“Oh, you mean that hand.” He smirked, gently nudging his nose against yours. “I don't know how it got there, but since it is.” He said, pushing it up to cup you through the thin, purple fabric of your panties.
Your gasp melted into a deep whimper, as Marshall started to rub you, watching you through hooded and lusty blue eyes. You turned, pressing your back against the armrest of the couch and opened your legs, giving Marshall full access to your dripping womanhood. He reached under the quilt, not removing it, to keep the chill of the room off of you, as he all but tore your underwear off your body. Tossing them absently over his shoulder and behind the couch, Marshall's hand was back on your privates within a millisecond.
“Oh Christ.” You mewled, arching your back against his hand, his middle finger slipping between your slick folds as he caressed you, teasing you. “Walt, please!” You begged him, pushing the heel of one of your feet into the top of his thigh, nudging his leg impatiently.
“Mm-mm.” He shook his head at you, curving that evil digit into your canal. “I haven't seen you in two days, babe.” He panted, licking his lips. “I want to enjoy it.”
“Then take your fucking shirt off, Marshall!” You barked, outraged and worked up as the tip of his finger grazed your sweet spot.
Marshall laughed, “That requires me to take my hand off of you.” He pointed out, amused by your situation.
You dropped your head back on the couch arm, then sat up, shivering as Marshall's finger reached different angles, and grabbed at his shirt. Bunching the knitted material in your hands, you yanked on it until you managed to pull it off over his head, then tossed it in his face for extra drama. Making him chuckle and toss it back at you, before driving his finger deep into your spot. Caught off guard, your hand flew out, clawing into the exposed skin at the top of his shoulder and leaving very angry crescents behind in their wake.
“Lord have mercy, Marshall!” You cried out, your head flying back, while you rocked on his hand.
“Lay back.” He purred at you, planting a kiss to your fingers. “Let me make you feel good.”
“You always do, Donut.” You teased, laying back again, tugging the blanket up over you as you did.
Marshall blushed slightly at your nickname for him. “I try, Angel.” He replied, gently working his finger inside of you, crooking it to tease your walls, knowing all the places to hit.
Your toes curled and you moaned softly, eyes rolling shut as you rutted against his hand, rolling your hips. Marshall looked at your face, a soft smirk on his own, seeing the pure pleasure you were in. He slipped in a second and started rubbing your clit with his thumb, drawing out a loud sigh from you. The want to keep that look on your face forever was so strong inside of Marshall. You were relaxed in the essence of pleasure and bliss, with no care in the world, other than what his fingers were doing to you.
“Walter, please!” You begged him, brows drawing together as you looked down your face at him.
Smirking, Walter freed his fingers from inside of you and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you into his lap and a heady kiss. He moved to the edge of the couch and stood, taking you with him, supporting you against his body as he carried you to the bedroom, one big paw rubbing firm circles over your back to keep the flat's chill away, until getting there.
“Why do you keep it so cold in here?” Marshall commented, resting you on the bed.
“I don't know. Guess I'm just used to the chill of the hospital. I don't really pay attention to it, until you show up.” You replied, giggling as you pushed the blankets to the foot of the bed.
“I should start a fire.” He said, glancing at the enclosed fireplace, in the corner of your room, as he stood at the side of your bed, unbuttoning his pants and shoving them down his tree-trunk thighs.
“You already started one.” You cooed at him, licking your lips at the titanic tent in the front of his boxer briefs, reaching out to palm it through the black material. “A big one, Bear.” You hummed, feeling the hot beast that lived within throb against your palm.
Marshall's eyes fluttered back into their sockets as you fondled him, pressing himself against your hand, growling deep in his throat and chest. You smirked up at him, leaning forward to press your lips to his hairy belly. Smoothing your palm upwards, you curled your fingers around the elastic waistband and slowly peeled his boxers down. Even with anticipation, your eyes grew and you gasped silently, when Marshall's thick and veiny, cut cock sprang heavily free from the confines of the garment.
Reaching into your bedside drawer, you removed a square object from inside and tossed it on one of the pillows, before looking at Marshall.
“Come to me.” You whispered, removing your shirt and heading up the bed.
Looking you over, like a hungry wolf, Marshall stalked up the bed towards you. Moving over you and nuzzling his face into your neck, he nibbled and kissed at the skin there and at your shoulder, while his hands smoothed down your sides, touching every inch of your body. You felt the rub of Marshall's beard as he left love-bites you'd be feeling during your shift later tomorrow. But that didn't bother you, you wanted to feel Walter with you. Always. You had one hand tugging at the curls at the back of his head and the other clawing into one cheek of his rump, as he grabbed at your knees, shoving them wide open to buck against you, his cock dripping against your slickness, mixing with the ultimate finale.
It didn't take love for Marshall's thought of lighting a fire to become nonsensical, the two of you were heated and glistening with sweat, from your combined actions and feelings. Perspiration pearled down Marshall's vast back as he pulled away from you, only slightly, his darkened blue eyes meeting yours in a hungry and sultry gaze, that sent a chill so powerful through your burning body, goose-flesh was raised.
“Mine.” He growled, in a deep pant.
“All yours.” You gulped back, nodding and sucking your lip between your teeth.
Marshall sat up between your legs, and you grabbed at the item you had tossed on the pillow earlier. It was a condom. You tore it open and took out the opaque-red and lubricated rubber, tossing the packaging carelessly to the floor, while Marshall grasped himself at the root, the head of his member changing a shade of purple, to hold his thick cock steady. You carefully rolled the protection down over his length, marveled at how it looked, snug over the throbbing veins. Wrapping your hand around the head of Walter's manhood, you stroked it downward, ensuring the sleeve was secure in place, before reaching up to grab him by the shoulder and pull him down into a heated kiss.
While you kissed, Marshall lined himself up with your weeping entrance. It never seemed mattered how many times the two of you were intimate, you never quite grew accustomed to Marshall's sheer size. Even with the help of being aroused and lubricated, there was always that initial stretch of him easing inside of you, of his girth reshaping you for the billionth time in the two years you had been dating. But it quickly subsided into something so marvelously euphoric, that you couldn't help the soft smile that crossed your lips or the curl of your toes.
He wrapped his arms around you, pressing you against his body, an arm encircling your waist and the other around your shoulders, his knees planted into the mattress, as he rocked into you. The wood headboard smacked against the wall behind it, keeping time with each thrust. Thankfully, it was an outer wall, so your next door neighbor wasn't too bothered by the noise, and he was used to your and Marshall's love making, by now.
Good and patient, Preston.
“Christ, Marshall!” You cried out, your walls kneading around him, feeling every furious movement that begged his manhood to release his magic and bring you both into a world of unimaginable bliss.
“Fuck, babe.” He panted back, his hot breath wafting over the skin of your face.
He pressed his temple against yours, letting out small whimpers of effort and moans of pleasure in random intervals. His thrusts lost rhythm and became rougher, as he neared his climax, your own aiding the effort. Marshall throbbed inside of your quivering walls and you felt the muscles of his stomach clench and become rock hard. He made his tell-tale sound, a soft, groaning sigh, as he unloaded inside of the protective barrier between you. Nonetheless, your slick canal struggled to keep a hold of Marshall's unloading and still working cock, feeling it surge inside of you. Your back arched, pushing yourself up against his clenched stomach, nails racking down his sweaty back.
“Marshall!” You cried out, shuttering with each wave of pleasure that washed through you. “Oh god, Marshall.” You whimpered, slowly lowering yourself back down, spent. “I love you.” You sighed softly, after a few moments to catch your breath.
Marshall rolled you both onto your sides, tucking your head under his chin and against his chest. “I love you too.” He whispered back, hugging you hard against him, fingers tangling in the back of your hair.
You struggled to stay awake, not wanting to fall asleep, knowing what it meant, if you did. But you were spent from a long shift, the previous night, little sleep and the exhausted pull of your love making. Soon enough, you were snoring into Marshall's collarbone. But, when you woke with a jolt a few hours later, your heart thundering in your chest, a good enough fire in the fireplace to keep your room warm, but not roast you alive, however you were alone.
“Marshall?” You called out, hoping—praying, he was just watching tv in the living room like he did, on rare occasions. “Donut!” You yelled out a little louder, turning to grab your shirt off the floor and padded into the living room, but found it cold, quiet and empty.
You sighed, realizing Marshall had left. Turning, you went down the hall to the guest room bath and discovered the mirror was still foggy. Marshall would go there to take a shower, before he left, so he wouldn't wake you by using your master bathroom. Usually, when he showered at your place, it meant he was heading straight back into the station to work some more, without bothering to go home. You wondered how many hours your boyfriend had slept, before sneaking off into the night.
“Just one night, Walter Marshall.” You whimpered, stripping your shirt off as you headed to bed again. “That's all I ask of you. Stay one fucking night with me, without vanishing like some sort of ghost.” You sighed, crawling under the blankets.
Marshall scrubbed at his eyes, while trying to focus on the police report in front of him, Harper had given him a new case to work on. It was a double homicide with a few lead suspects, but no solid proof on which of them it could possibly be. He was hitting his wit's end, three shifts, with a four hour sleep between two of them, crashed out on the small couch in his office. He'd only spoken to you through text messages through that time. The two of you had tried to meet up for lunch, but one of his suspects had been hauled into the station and he had to cancel it, so he could interrogate them.
A soft knock sounded on his office door and Commissioner Harper popped in. “How's the case going?” He asked, depositing himself into a chair across from Marshall.
The Brit drew in a deep breath and let it out, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“That well, huh?” The older law enforcement officer chuckled. “When was the last time you went home?” He inquired, seeing the dark circles under Marshall's bloodshot blue eyes.
Marshall looked at his watch. “Nine hours ago, to shower.” He replied, shooting Harper a look.
“You need to head home.” Harper snorted, shaking his head. “Don't you have a new lady in your life?” He said, lifting a brow at Walter, critically. “You shouldn't be keeping hours at the station, like you were when you were a bachelor, Marshall. I'm sure it drives her fucking crazy.”
You had scolded Marshall several times about working himself into the ground and not getting a proper night's sleep. He wasn't a bachelor anymore, preferring to be at the station, then sitting alone, in the deafening emptiness of his flat. He definitely was a husband in the middle of getting a divorce, where he'd rather work eighteen hour shifts, against the alternative of going home to another argument or silent treatment from his soon-to-be ex-wife and making his daughter's life a nightmare.
He had you now, and was still acting like he didn't.
“You're right.” He said, flipping the case file closed and locking it away in his desk. “I am going to take the rest of the day off.” He nodded, stretching to his feet.
“And tomorrow.” Harper added, giving Marshall a stern look.
Marshall stared at him for a long moment, before slowly nodding. “Tomorrow as well.” He conceded, grabbing his jacket from the hook at the back of his office door.
“Hey.” Harper paused, as he stepped out into the hall, turning back to Marshall. “Surprise her. Women love that stuff.” He smirked, giving him a teasing wink before heading off to his own office.
“Yeah.” Marshall nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip.
Thankfully, he knew you had the day off, which made surprising you all the easier to do.
Marshall stopped by his place first, taking a quick shower and changed. Washed up and freshly changed, Marshall went to a small floral shop to get a bouquet of your favorite flowers, then crossed town to your takeaway spot, ordering your favorite dish with something to hit your sweet tooth, before finally heading over to your flat.
Situating things in his hands, Marshall knocked on your door and waited for you to answer, his heart pounding for a reason he couldn't put his finger on. At least, until the door cracked open and you peeked out, then his pulse calmed.
“Hey, Sugar butt.” He grinned at you, enjoying the surprised expression on your face.
You swung the door open, excited to see Marshall. “What are you doing here, Donut? I thought you had to work!” You said, bouncing on your toes towards him and wrapping your arms around his waist.
“I got some sound advice, and I decided to take it.” He replied, bending his head to kiss the top of yours. “So, I have the rest of the day off, and was told I'm taking tomorrow off as well.” He told you, holding up the bag of food and your bouquet of flowers.
“There's no one else I want to spend it with.”
“What about Fae?” You asked, your tone teasing.
Marshall rolled his eyes at you. “I'm far too boring and uncool.” He huffed, shaking his head.
“Well, you're entertaining and cool enough for me, Donut.” You giggled, pulling him into your flat.
“Thank the heavens for that.” He smiled, letting you drag him inside and into the kitchen.
“What did you get me?” You asked, dying to know what he had in the takeaway bag.
“Things you eat.” Marshall smirked, side eyeing you. “Hey, hands off!” He chuckled, batting your hand away from the bag. “Go pour us something to drink, Sugar butt!” He said, popping you on the butt and kissed your neck.
“My sweet detective, you drank all your Rich & Rare whiskey, the last time you were here.” You informed him, giving him a gentle pat on the chest.
“Oh fuck, I did.” Marshall sighed, his shoulders slumping a little.
You smiled, moving around him to go into a cabinet. “Luckily for you, you have a very thoughtful partner.” You said, pulling down a bottle of the amber colored spirit. “Who noticed it and bought another bottle for you.”
Marshall turned around, cracking a smile at you. “What did I ever do to deserve you?” He asked, reaching out to cup your face.
You nuzzled his hand for a moment, before answering. “You got shot.” You deadpanned.
“Right.” He nodded, taking the bottle from you, then turned back to the food, pulling it out and putting it on the counter, before taking down plates.
You took down glasses and set one of them next to the plates, before grabbing your chilled bottle of wine out of the refrigerator, wiggling your brows at Walter as he moved by you for the fridge himself. Winking at you, Marshall grabbed a black case from inside the freezer and turned back, smirking as he found you already nibbling on your food. Shaking his head, he set the case on the counter and opened it, before cracking the seal on the bottle of whiskey, pouring some into his glass.
“So, how was your day?” He asked, opening the case and lifting a brow in your direction.
“It's been good.” You answered, getting your takeaway on the plate. “Slept a whole extra hour and a half.” You snorted, smirking to yourself. “Took a bath, instead of a shower, which felt incredible, and started to catch up with all of the shows I'm behind on.”
“Sounds like a day off well spent.” Marshall nodded, pulling out a pair of small tongs and removed a medium sized, chilled, black whiskey stone that was nestled inside and placed it in his glass. “I hope mine goes as well.”
“Well, we can make that happen.” You told him, holding a fork out to him.
Marshall grinned at you, taking the fork. “Yeah, we can.”
The two of you took your food and drinks to the couch, finding something to watch together, while you ate. You smirked, however, watching your Donut doze on and off, his plate balanced on his knee. Setting your plate on the coffee table, you gently took his and set it beside yours, you grabbed his hand and coaxed him up to his feet.
“Mmm.” He grunted, responding to your nudges towards the bedroom.
“Ssshh.” You cooed back, not wanting him to stir from the soft doze he'd fallen into.
Getting him to your room, you lightly pushed him back, to sit on your bed, stifling your giggle at his 'umph' as he landed. Kneeling down, you untied the laces of his boots, biting your lip as you gingerly pulled them off, but Marshall barely stirred as they came free from his feet. You managed to get his shirt off, before laying him back on the bed and covering him up.
“Sleep tight, detective.” You whispered, stroking the curls off his forehead for a moment, listening to his deep and easy breathing.
Tip-toeing out of the room, you gathered up the hardly touched plates and wrapped them up, storing them away in the refrigerator for later on, carefully poured the remaining whiskey Marshall hadn't polished off into the bottle, rinsing the stones, slipping them back into their case and into the freezer. Rubbing your face, you stripped and crawled into bed with Marshall, snuggling in against his side with a smile, excited to be falling asleep with him, knowing there was a high likelihood he'd be there, when you woke up.
What you hadn't expected was how you woke up with Marshall.
You were too deeply asleep to even dream, comfortable and warm. It was pure heaven, that you were hardly aware of the loud bang, likely someone slamming a door shut or the lid of a dumpster being dropped; nothing that was significant enough to draw you from your slumber. Nothing, but the jolt and gasp beside you. You started to pull to the surface of consciousness, struggling to understand what was going on, before you felt a pair of abnormally strong tentacles wrap around your frame. Jerking you against something solid, the air was knocked out of your lungs. While you were dragged over the edge of the bed, your stomach clenched as you dropped to the floor, crying out at the force of the sudden stop.
Realization flooded you, feeling the huffing, puffing and mountainous body of Marshall move over you, one arm still crushing around your middle to pin you against him, one thick thigh wedged between yours. If you didn't know Walter as well as you did, you probably would have started screaming at the position he had you in.
But you knew him, and you knew there was something deeply wrong with your boyfriend. Even your nursing instincts were going off for something being out of place. Marshall was panting like a wounded animal, his nostrils flaring with each breath, every muscle in his body was rock hard and rigid, but he was trembling. His teeth were gritted, like he was in pain and his blue eyes were wide and on high alert, as if he was waiting for something to happen.
“Marshall?” You whispered, apprehensive to make a sound, almost afraid that he'd snap at you, but his arm only tightened, making you hiss and wiggle underneath him, but he only held you tighter. “All right.” You groaned, relaxing to rest your forehead against the carpet, taking a deep breath of relief when his arm eased against your stomach.
You racked your brain, he was a horror hardened Detective for the Manitoba police force, what could cause Marshall to react to this extreme? Could this be a flashback from Simon?
You took a deep breath, knowing you had to help Marshall out of this, to let him know he was in a safe place. You bit your lip, bracing yourself for whatever reaction he gave you. Wiggling your arm out from underneath of your body, ignoring his attempt to keep you still, you propped yourself up the best you could under his weight.
“Marshall.” You said, keeping your voice calm and as if nothing was wrong, reaching back to rest your hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “It's all right, Walt. It's just a flashback.” You told him, pressing your head against his chest. “I'm all right. We're all right.” You reassured him, moving your hand to his neck, beginning to massage the tight muscles there.
“We're safe. There's nothing and no one here to harm us. I promise.”
“Unless, you look in my closet and notice the alarming ratio of scrub outfits to regular ones.” You said, making yourself giggle, hoping a light joke would cause a crack in the wall of his PTSD, since Marshall had always enjoyed your sense of humor.
But Walter didn't seem to react to any of it, though you didn't allow yourself to become discouraged.
“What can I do?” You cooed at him, wondering what was going through his mind. “Please, tell me how I can help you, Donut?”
Marshall abruptly stopped trembling against you and seemed to relax on top of you, but didn't move any farther. You took the win, patiently waiting to see if he made any further improvements. They took several more moments, with you still massaging his neck and just laying there with him, but Marshall finally seemed to regain some sense of himself.
“I'm sorry.” He mumbled, moving off of you at last.
You floundered for a moment, sitting up to rest your back against the side of your bed, unsure how to reply. “Mar-” You started, only to have him jump to his feet and storm into your en suite, slamming and locking the door behind him. “Okay.” You sighed, nodding curtly at the door. “You need space.” You said, to the air, then pulled yourself up and pulled on a pair of shorts shorts with a tank top.
Going out to the kitchen, you made yourself a cup of tea, pausing for a moment as you carried it out of the kitchen to fortify it with a small splash of Marshall's whiskey, before going to sit in the living room. You stared at the turn off tv, regarding your blurry reflection as you thought about what had happened in the bedroom with Marshall, then abruptly locked himself in the bathroom. The shower had turned on not long afterwards, making you suppose he was taking one to wake himself up and clear his head. You were still worried about him though, he had just turned into a statue after yanking you off the bed like that, forcing you to be still, like he was afraid something would happen, if either of you moved.
An hour and all your hot water later, Marshall emerged from your bedroom, his eyes pointed at the floor as he stood just passed the doorway. You set your empty cup on the coffee table and turned to look at him over the back of the couch, his wet curls were combed back off his forehead, making him look almost boyish.
“I'm sorry.” He mumbled again, folding his arms tightly over his chest, still refusing to look at you.
“I know you're sorry, Marshall.” You whispered back at him, your heart aching. “Please, sit down with me?” You begged, patting the cushion beside you.
Marshall lingered in place for a moment, before shuffling over to you and sitting down, arms still crossed. You stared at the circular and slightly puckered scar just below his collarbone, the purplish skin stood out in stark contrast to the pale skin of his chest, lightly hidden under the dark fur that covered his torso.
“I'm sorry, if I scared you.” Marshall elaborated more on his apology. “I also understand, if you don't want to see me anymore.” He added, his throat bobbing as he swallowed thickly.
“What?” You giggled, surprised. “Why would I break up with you, Marshall?”
He finally looked at you, brows creased like it was obvious. “Because of what just happened.” He growled, his jaw muscles flexing. “I could have hur-” His eyes searched you for any marks, an almost frantic look coming into them.
“You didn't hurt me, Walter.” You assured him. “You startled the hell out of me, with that wake up. You've caused me to be very concerned. But hurt me, you have not.”
“This time.” He mumbled, relaxing back into his broodiness.
“Tell me what happened, Donut.” You sighed, shaking your head at him. “I know you had a flashback. Why? Was it because of Simon?”
Marshall sighed, bouncing his leg. “It wasn't Simon.” He replied, licking his lips. “Before I was a homicide detective, I was in the British Army, I served three tours.” He paused and regarded you, deciding it was time to give you everything.
“I met Angela after I finished boot camp. She was in London for a holiday. We hit it off, and started a long distance relationship. I went on my first tour and everything was reasonably fine. I rose through the ranks quickly through my tours, I initially intended to be career Army. But between the second tour and my last one, Angie got pregnant with Fae. Which complicated things. Angie didn't want to raise her away from her parents in Manitoba, she also didn't want me being in the British Army, since it meant I'd be stationed overseas, away from them and being deployed constantly.”
“That is quite the situation.” You nodded, folding your legs on the cushion.
“It was.” Marshall nodded, his eyes distant. “My second tour had been rough, it was the first time I was given command of a squad of men. We got through it and all my men got home. But that's when some of my PTSD started. Loud noises would make me start or put me on edge. It was my last deployment, when I didn't renew my contract, so I could move to Canada with Angie and Fae, that it went through the roof. My men and I got pinned down by a group of rebels and I ended up losing two of them, despite the effort to keep them alive.” He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing on an imaginary spot on the rug.
“Marshall?” You whispered, reaching out to rest your hand on his knee, feeling the muscle there jump slightly.
“Sorry.” He cleared his throat, shaking his head, his gaze clearing. “That's when I started having reactive flashbacks, like tonight. At first, Angie took them in stride. I thought they'd be better if I was back in 'that environment', so I joined the Manitoba SWAT team, and it worked for a short time. But Angie worried that was just as dangerous as being in the Army and didn't want Fae losing me.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “She had a point. SWAT could be just as dangerous at times. Get a person in the corner, when they're desperate, it doesn't matter if you're in a war-zone. They'll do anything to get out of that spot. Including killing you.”
“So, what happened?” You asked, biting your lip.
“I transferred to homicide.” He chuckled, smirking like he couldn't believe it himself. “Anyway, over time, Angie couldn't take my flashbacks anymore and we slept in separate bedrooms for the last four years of our marriage. They were a catalyst for our divorce.” He admitted, pressing his lips together, pained. “She even used them to gain full custody of Fae. Like, I was some sort of danger to my own daughter.”
“I don't think you're dangerous, Marshall.” You confessed, moving closer to him.
Marshall huffed at you. “Yeah, that's because I won't allow myself to fall asleep around you.”
“This is why you ghost me after we've made love?” You asked, looking at him wide eyed.
“Yes.” He nodded, staring back at you. “I'm terrified of something like that happening and losing you because of it.” He barked, jerking a hand towards the bedroom. “That I'll have an episode and I'll hurt you or it's just too much baggage for you to take.”
“Oh, you sweet Donut.” You giggled at him, grinning. “When was the last time you even had a flashback, before tonight?”
“I don't know!” He barked, raking a hand through his damp hair. “Two or three years.”
“That's not bad!” You said, wrapping your arms around his. “And we made it through this one.”
“I don't want you to make it through them.” He whined at you, looking like a hurt puppy.
“Walter Donut Marshall, I helped you get through being shot.” You grinned at him, stubbornly. “I'm pretty darn sure, I can help you through more flashbacks. You're not going to scare me away. I'm not going to break up with you. I love you, you silly Detective.” You cupped his bearded face in your palms.
“Stop running away from me, let me love you, shadows and all.”
“I have some dark shadows.” He whispered, turning his head to kiss your hand.
“Don't we all, Donut? Don't we all!” You giggled, kissing him soundly on the mouth.
Hey, my names Fionnasbunnyhat, or Steven (That's not my real name but it's an other name I sometimes get called.) I'm a minor so please don't ask for NSFW content. I only do Adventure Time/Fionna and Cake content on my page.
I've liked Adventure time since I was very young. I'm a bit late to doing FAC content sadly so not very many people will see this.
I also don't just do fanfictions I also just make posts about the show and talking about how much I love.
Here are the characters I do:
Marshall Lee (Both human and vampire version)
Fionna (Mostly just the normal/OO city version of her)
Closing the door behind him, he sees a box move around the lounge. A small smile forms on his face as he puts his keys and gun on the counter in the kitchen.
Walking to the lounge, he kneels on the ground to tap at the box. It stops moving, only a small shuffle towards him. He gets taps in return.
Sitting down fully, he lifts the box up a bit to see his daughter peep her chubby face out from the gap. Her mouth curves itself into a smile, showing her gums and few growing teeth.
She crawls out from under the box to stand in between his outstretched legs. “Daddy.” Her small, chubby hands bury themselves in his beard, slightly tugging at the hairs.
“Hi, baby.” Walter presses his nose against his baby girl’s, having her giggle from the tickle of his beard. “Have you been good for your daddy?”
“No, she hasn’t.”
Walter turns his head to see you leaning against the door-frame of the hallway connected to the lounge, arms crossed over your chest. “She was fussy with her food, kept moving away when I tried to change her clothes and nappy as she had puked and wanted to be butt-naked, and she made a mess with her toys.”
Your husband looks back at the little girl who tried to crawl away from him, as if she knew she was in trouble. “Oh, no, little one.” Walter’s hands hold onto her hips to lift her up and bring her back to his body.
Standing up to his feet with the toddler-baby crying in his arms, he moves to her highchair to sit her there.
You and Walter watch her kick her little feet and hit her hands against the tray with tears streaming down her red, heated cheeks.
When she opens her eyes, she sees her daddies watching her. Her hands and feet stopped their movements, the tears stopped too, just her heated, wet cheeks on show.
“Are you done?” Walter asked, walking over to her.
Her arms raise up, wanting him to pick her up, but he just leans down to be face-to-face with her chubby face.
A slam of her hands on the tray is his answer, along with a bunch of babbles.
“You stay there for five minutes.” Standing up to his full height, arms crossed over his chest, he watches her slump her upper body over the tray. She points her little finger at the Saint Bernard, who’s sitting next to Walter. “He’s not going to help you.” She moves her hand to point at you, who’s cooking dinner. “Daddy’s not helping you, either.”
“Baba.” She points at Walter, who shakes his head. She moves her attention back to the dog, making grabby hands at him.
The dog walks towards her and was about to boop her feet with his nose, but he feels a tug on his collar, meaning not to interact with the child. When he walks away and lays on his bed in the lounge, you hear the little girl whine.
Talking to grab your attention, you turn around to lean against the counter, letting the pasta cook in the pot. You look at her, seeing that her cheek is squished against the backrest as her back is facing you. “You heard daddy. You stay there until your time out is over.”
Closing her eyes and tilting her head back, she lets out a scream. When she looks back at Walter, she hits her tray again. “Ba!”
“No. You have 10 seconds.”
Waiting for the seconds to end, she raises her arms, letting Walter pick her up. “You’re lucky you’re adorable.”
Summary: Female!Reader comes home after a long day, and Marshall is happy to help her unwind.
Word Count: 953
Rating: E (18+)
Warnings: Porn. Porn w/o plot. One (1) derogatory name-calling. Spanking.
You’d barely taken your jacket off before Marshall was beckoning you to come join him. He was sat on the couch. Some movie played on the television. You slipped your shoes off and joined him. He pulled you into his lap and you settled against his chest.
“I missed you today,” you admitted, ghosting your fingers over the forearm wrapped around your waist. His other hand came down and he pressed his fingers to the front of your trousers. You gasped and your back arched slightly.
His lips tickled at the shell of your ear. “I can see that.” His voice was nearly a growl. He grabbed the flesh of your cunt and squeezed. Maybe you should have screamed but a moan escaped you. You writhed against him. The arm he had around your waist reached up. He pinned you with his arm while his fingers splayed across your throat. They were a threat. Be still.
Your writhing slowed and you fought to catch your breath. “Good girl,” he praised lowly, but you were still locked against him and his hand didn’t move from your throat. His hand relaxed where he’d been squeezing, and you sagged a bit. “Can you take them off like this?” You felt the rumble of his words down your spine and you nodded eagerly.
Marshall waited patiently as you struggled to remove your trousers and panties. You could almost be convinced he’d gone back to watching the movie if you couldn’t feel his eyes on you. When your lower half was bare to him you moved your arms to take off your shirt. His grip on your neck tightened ever so slightly and you stopped the movement.
“Hands on my head, or the back of the couch,” he instructed. You moved your arms behind your head and tangled your fingers in his hair. He shifted below you. “Spread your legs.” You did as you were told, and his legs moved as well so he could spread you and keep you spread. You were cradled on his body. “Would you like to be hit?”
You groaned. Shame and arousal mixed within you in equal measures. You rested your head on his shoulder and took a second before you answered. “Yes, please.” Your words were panted and quiet, but he’d heard you and he wasn’t going to make you repeat them louder. Not yet.
You waited with bated breath as his hand poised to strike. The flat of his hand struck your pussy and you jolted. He let you settle before he began rubbing your clit. You moaned and had to tear your eyes away from what he was doing to you. He brought you quickly to the edge and pulled away. You caught your breath.
When he felt you were ready he slapped you again. Your thighs moved to close on instinct but were hindered by his. Again, he hit you and again his fingers stimulated your clit after. “Harder,” you breathed.
“What was that?”
There it was. When you were too desperate. Too lost in pleasure. “Harder!” You were commanding. He did as he was told, and the resulting smack was loud and wet. You shouted at the impact and shuddered. He hit you that hard again and you back arched near-painfully.
His fingers ghosted over you flesh, soothing, and his hand tightened on your neck until your fingers in his hair eased. “There’s a good girl. You’re going to cum for me.” The hand that had been holding your throat trailed over your shirt and he buried two thick fingers deep in your cunt. You moaned at the stretch and clenched around him.
His other hand resumed gentle attention to your clit. You breathed shakily and twisted your hips to prompt him into fucking you with his fingers. As nice as they were just stretching you, you knew what they could do if they moved.
And he did move them, finally. He curled them inside you and drug them against your walls. His pace inside you picked up and your thighs shook as you tried to close them and keep them open at the same time. Not that it mattered because his own legs ensured you would remain spread for him.
He had you teetering on the edge of orgasm in no time. His skilled fingers along with the sound of his pants in your ear were everything. “Hit me again,” you requested. His ministrations on your cunt stilled and you could practically feel his confusion through the way his muscles tightened against your back.
“Why?”
You knew his brain. Why should he hit you again? Were you punishing yourself for something he didn’t know about? There would be no having that. You both knew. Marshall was strict about communication, as were you.
“I- I like it,” you admitted. He huffed a laugh and relaxed under you.
“You are full of surprises, aren’t you my little slut?” His fingers began thrusting in you again and he massaged your clit. “Maybe another time, hmm?”
You nodded and hummed your approval. From his tone you knew he wanted to make that session special. He always took such care in indulging you.
A particularly well-timed thrust brought you back from your fantasies. “Cum for me,” he growled in your ear, “show me how much you missed me.” And you did. You orgasmed, breathing his name, and clenching hard around his fingers. He stimulated you through to the end until all you could do was lay limply on top of him and try to catch your breath.
He pulled his fingers from you and let you close your legs. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and start thinking about dinner.”
