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littlefreya · 4 years

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Heart of Darkness

Synopsis: Slight sequel to Overprotected. Walter’s longing wife comes to visit him at his office.

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x OFC

Word count: 3.9K

Warnings: Explicit, graphic smutty sex, rough oral sex, choking, role play, pleasure denial, rough sex. MaleDom / FemSub. Slight fluff though.

A/N: A special thanks for @agniavateira or helping me proof my work. I don’t own Night Hunter / Nomins or Marshall!

Title: Heart of Darkness

The heating is broken at the station. It’s either that, or Walter came up with some new methods of torture to interrogate his suspects. I’ve never seen him in action, I’m not sure if it’s the shame of this very darkness that lives within him, or his desperate attempt to keep me safe from the horrors of the night. His colleagues filled me in a while ago, mentioning he tends to go rough, violent, even brutal at times.

They know very little for I bask in Walter’s darkness. I’m the first to witness the terror that consumes him and shadows his soul. I drink from his desire, joining him in this violent lovemaking. It’s the only thing that helps him cleanse his demons.

It brings us closer.

And yet, he doesn’t want me here. He fights to keep me secluded as if I was some porcelain doll.

As if I don’t see my share of blood and death every day.

I walk through the chilled halls of the station, wrapping my arms around myself to keep warm. Even though I’m wearing a large, thick winter coat, it feels like it’s four degrees here. I shouldn’t have worn a skirt beneath all this, but how could I have known? I left five text messages which remained unanswered. It’s not unusual. He is busy, and sometimes he forgets.

It doesn’t mean this doesn’t piss me off.

I find him in his office, with a phone pressed to his ear. His bulky body faces the window while he talks down some crime lab trainee for messing up the evidence. He turns to see who dares to barge his office uninvited, his blue eyes pale as glaciers. They immediately melt as he realizes it’s me.

“I don’t care how. Get a new sample or I’ll make sure you’ll never hear the end of this!” He ends the call without a goodbye and drops the device on his desk. His arms grab the edges of the chair tightly while he stares down, letting his soft dark curls fall on top of his forehead.

“What are you doing here, pet? You know I don’t like you coming here.”

I take off my long coat, hanging it next to the door. His office is only slightly warmer. It’s smaller, and Walter emits enough warmth on his own. Everyone is walking around in their coats and jackets but he's in a black wool sweater per usual, with the sleeves rolled up to expose his wide forearms.

“I missed you” I answer, pretending not to tremble but the fumes that come out of my mouth give me away.

I take a small, slow twirl in the secluded space, inspecting the room. There's so little light in here. On the shelf, he has some books about the history of crime and criminology, with his diploma and badges of honour laid next to it. Not out of pride, but out of compliance. Walter is not an arrogant man, he’s actually the opposite. He doesn’t have time for chasing glory, all he does is out of pure heroism, some would even say out of altruism.

The morbid photos next to his desk catch my eyes. Images of victims. They hang on a board latched to the wall, along with a map, and a thick, red string that trails the locations where the bodies were found. These are young women, mutilated, their lives were stolen from them by selfish monsters.

I get to see my share of blood every day, sometimes even death. But, this is not something anyone should see.

And this is what he sees all the time, probably also in his dreams. The ghosts of the girls he couldn’t save haunt him; it’s not his fault, but he’d never see it that way. For him, every girl who died on his watch is a girl he has failed.

My fingers press against the ring on my finger, twisting it anxiously. I can feel my heart shrinking to the size of a walnut. I wish I could suck the pain out of him as you do with poison.

“I told you…” he speaks with a deep frown on his face, as if he is angry with me for entering his cave of horrors. He was in a foul mood before I got here, and I defied his request. I am the one teasing the tinders with more wind and fuel.

All I wanted was to bring my light into his world, at least for a little while.

“You visit me at work all the time,” I answer, inching closer toward his desk. I try to ignore the sourness in my throat as the horrifying images on the wall stare right at us.

He gives me a small smile, almost invisible amongst the wrinkles of grumpiness on his forehead.

“It’s a part of my job to come to the hospital, and it’s the only one in the county.”

That’s how we met.

I was in my first year of residency. The tall, burly man with the most caring blue eyes appeared in the hospital. I have seen Walter once before that, spending an evening at the local Irish bar with his friends. The toughness on his face was the only thing I remembered then. I thought he was hot, obviously, though I didn’t bother approaching him.

I didn’t fall in love with him until I saw the ocean of benevolence he kept under that hard shell.

He came to visit a victim and stayed the night to make sure the aggressor won’t return, and that the girl is taken care of. I felt his eyes on me every now and then, silently observing me when I was checking up on other patients. He tried to strike a small conversation, about the girl first, and then about my job at the hospital. I believed the British giant was just being polite and passed the long, boring night by chit-chat. I should have known I was being interrogated to see if I’m single or not.

Suddenly, he appeared at the hospital every other day, to check up on “the girl”. The first night, he brought me some coffee because “I work crazy hours,” and he thought I’d like some to drink. Then, it was coffee and a sweet pastry to eat. For a week and a half, I had a constant visitor who took care of my caffeine and sugar intake. My colleagues teased me for suddenly wearing perfume to work, and how I’d blush whenever “Sir Big Dick” arrived.

On the last evening, he came to my department and found me signing some charts. I’ve told him the girl was released during the morning, but of course, he knew that. He smiled at me and offered me a single red rose instead, asking if I’d like to accompany him for a real dinner this time.

Four years since then, he comes to visit even when there are no victims. Sometimes, I’m worried he does that out of fear that something will happen to me, and not just out of a romantic gesture to see his wife.

“Is it part of your job to stalk your wife?”

He slouches on his chair heavily, making it squeak beneath his weight. His eyes rise to gaze at my face. There is a weariness in them, the kind that even sleep can’t cure anymore. I fear the day when my husband will stray too far from the light, when the heart of darkness will clutch its ugly thorns in his tender flesh.

“It is my job to make sure the citizens of this county are safe.”

I roll my eyes at him, walking to stand behind his chair. My hands reach to clutch his broad shoulders as I begin to knead the tense muscles with mild force. He stiffens for a moment and then emits a soft groan, flexing and trying to relax beneath my touch.

“Do you bring red roses to all the citizens in our county?” I speak with a sultry voice, moving my hands to his collarbone. Walter closes his eyes and throws his head back, a deep groan vibrates from the pit of his throat.

“Only the hot ones,” he answers as his hand finds my leg and snakes up my bare skin, running all the way up beneath my skirt to find the curve of my ass. “You’re shivering.”

“It’s freezing in here.” I answer, leaning into the warmth of his palm as he strokes up and down my thigh to keep me warm.

“Why are you dressed like that, then?” he guides me toward him to sit in his lap. His hands run up and down my legs, exposing more of my skin while a soft smile spreads across his rugged face. “If I wouldn’t know better, I’d say you came here to seduce a police detective.”

I bite my lower lip, wrapping my hands around his neck while my ass sinks against his groin. I feel so safe in his touch, with his coarse hands that burn hot on my flesh.

“Why? Is that a crime?”

“Actually, yes.”

I pull away from him, standing against the edge of the desk with a teasing smirk across my face. His hand reaches out to my knees, not wanting to break contact. He has been deprived of it all day long, abandoned in the cold.

Now here I am, the only warmth he knows.

“Show me then.”

He licks his lips, still smiling as he is caught up with my little flirtatious act. “Show you what, pet?”

“What interrogation methods would you use? How would you squeeze a dirty little secret out a seductress like me?” I place the heel of my boot between his straddled thighs, preventing him from moving and asserting my dominance to provoke him.

His eyes narrow at me while he considers the idea. I see how the ethical balance begins to tip, the ball falling from one scale to the other. His better judgment becomes lost in a thick cloud of lust.

“You keep secrets from me?” he asks as he plays along.

“Maybe…” I stretch the word, giving him a wicked flirtatious smile.

Somewhere deep inside this good man, there is a big black dog, hungry to rip this willing victim to shreds.

He peers at my leg and then up into my eyes while his fingers reach to gently tickle beneath my knee. I hum in delight, throwing my head back, my leg losing its strength, my assertiveness leaning on the edge along with my ankle.

“I’d begin by putting you in a position where you don’t have any power whatsoever,” he speaks in a voice that’s gruff and low, his fingers now pressing hard and I’m forced to straighten my leg and lower it to the floor.

The smile on his face becomes cold and his eyes darken as he moves to stand in front of me. His leans against me, his torso pressed against my chest, his chin against my forehead as he lowers his head.

“Down on your knees.”

These words take my breath away, making my skin prickle with nervousness. I follow his orders with the obedience of a good wife. My knees lay pressed against the cold floor, I try not to tremble too much. I’m not sure if it’s just the temperature of the room, or the dark glare on Walter’s face.

His groin is at the level of my face, the outline of his cock showing through the fabric of his trousers as it begins to harden.

He reaches out his hands to cradle my face. Stroking my hair back, examining my face as if he is learning my features for the first time. The smile diminished from his face the moment I went down on my knees. Now he stares at me with the severity of his bad detective attitude.

“You’re very pretty,” he compliments me, but it sounds more of a fact than anything sweet. His fingers caress my cheeks and then at the corners of my lips, forcing me to part my lips. “Pretty little mouth too, does it talk?”

“I ain’t telling you nothing, Detective” I play along, if I’ve known we’re actually doing THAT, I would have prepared a script.

His hands run to stroke the hair away from my face, beginning in a tender affectionate touch, he collects every strand lovingly until my hair is bundled between his strong palms. I can feel the softness of his touch draining away.

“Undo my belt.” He commands.

“I don’t…”

“You don’t want me to ask again.”

My hands tremble with fear and excitement as my fingers fumble with the metal clasp of his belt. Walter’s eyes look at me carefully, completely devoted to this role. I wonder how much of his job is pretence and how much is actually him.

“What do you say if I’ll fuck your mouth until you cry?”

He asks while reaching one hand to unzip his trousers, freeing his beautiful large cock and stroking it in front of me for display. I can’t help but lick my lips, like a hungry kitten presented with creamy delight. The little drop of pre-cum that trickles down his shaft is too inviting.

“I’d say you still won’t hear a word from me,” I provoke.

Walter gives a short smile, tugging my hair back painfully until I’m forced to part my lips open into a breathless gasp of pain.

“Take me in your mouth.”

Usually, when I please him, I’d begin with a soft teasing, licking my way up and down his hardness until I finally take him in and begin working him sensually.

I am not granted any of that courtesy right now.

Walter forces himself into the wet heat of my mouth with the delicacy of a grunt. A deep, throaty groan echoes in the room as he is surrounded by my hot saliva and is pressed against the softness of my tongue.

I choke out a mewl as he completely fills my mouth, feeling the head of his cock nearing the back of my throat. My cheeks betray me, sucking by instinct to savour his girth. Every inch of my body knows Walter all too well, it succumbs to the man that owns it, physically and emotionally.

I look up to him with helpless glossy eyes. Victory showers his face, golden and bleak at the same time. He lets his callous long fingers clasp around the hollow of my cheeks to force me to keep my mouth open wide just to please him.

I gasp for air as he pulls back slowly. Just a cruel act to make me think we’re done, but we are far from that.

“Loosen your mouth pet, I am going deeper.”

He warns and shoves himself in again, this time deeper as promised, relishing on my muffled whimpers he puts one hand on the back of my head and begins to buck his hips. Fucking my mouth in the rhythm that fulfils his lust.

My heart pounds on my chest, my knees begin to hurt as I try to move with him. But I’m his good girl, breathing through my nose, letting my tongue lap around his lavished cock lovingly while he uses me as the wet hole he unloads into.

His eyes are glistening, ecstasy drawing near. I look up to stare at him, admiring how glorious he is. My large man, so confident and dominating. His beautiful dark curls frame his square face, bringing out his high cheekbones and bright blue eyes. And damn, that voice, those low melodic hums of pleasure making my entire body shake.

I choke onto his swollen cock. Tears stained dark grey thanks to my eyeliner and mascara, run down my cheeks.

“Don’t cry beautiful,” he speaks with cynical sweetness, his thumb wiping the tears away from one cheek as he carefully withdraws from my mouth, allowing me to breathe once again. “All you need to do is tell me what you’re hiding and this will end.”

I gasp for air, my chest slightly heaving while his fingers run under my eyes to clean the black mess that is smeared on my face. He remains silent, the wrinkles between his brows are deep and severe while he is still pulling his bad cop act. Yet the way his hands run over my face with care gives him away so easily.

“Is this the worst you can do? Some detective you are!”

I provoke him, laughing patronizingly with my voice still husky, the edge of my throat slightly sore from having to endure his size in its depth. Walter chuckles momentarily before grabbing my shoulders and pulling me up to sit on his desk.

“Spread ‘em” he nearly barks, but it’s not really an order since his hands press my knees apart widely, exposing the dampness on my underwear. He smoothes both hands up my thighs roughly, his thumbs reaching out until reaching to my core.

I let my head back, feeling how his thumb massages me, pressing against my covered clit and drawing circles against it.

“You like that, little slut?”

“Yes…” I throw my head back and moan, my hands holding hard at the edges of the desk while I spread myself to him as much as possible and grinding my hips to steal more friction.

“You want more?” he teases while his fingers slowly slip my underwear to one side, exposing me to the cold air in the room. I’m so drenched for him right now, held open, anticipating like sliced fruit. He reaches out for his cock and begins to stroke himself in front of me, a wicked grin adorning his face.

I’m very much aware he can finish himself just like this while leaving me here to beg out of thirst. Well, I can do that too. I lift my hand to touch myself, nearly losing balance but he shoves his thighs between my legs right away and holds my wrist away.

“Ah, ah” he forbids. “You’re not touching yourself, you’re still under investigation.”

“If you don’t finish me off…” I threaten him but my intimidation breaks into a pathetic cry as I feel the head of his cock rubbing against my clit.

“You’ll what?” he asks, running the tip between my throbbing lips and up to my clit. Back and forth he tortures me, increasing the pace and then slowing down. His groans convince me he may be enjoying this more than actually fucking me, seeing me so helpless and weak, willing to cry and beg for him to just put himself inside me. “I’m still waiting to hear what you’re hiding.”

I close my eyes, head thrown back in agony and pleasure at once, so close yet so far away as Walter pushes just an inch inside, and then pulls out and strokes me again.

I am still not willing to break completely, what’s the fun in that? I know my man, and I’m aware of his darkest desires and capabilities.

Let him unleash his worst.

“Not a word from me, Detective, you’ll just have to try harder.”

His nostrils flares.

“Fine, then I’ll just have to punish fuck you, drill you like a whore.” He pushes all the way in, making me whimper with bliss as I am finally whole again.

I’ve led him just to where I wanted. His body conquering mine, filling me with the pleasure that’s not just physical.

Somehow both his hands find their way to my neck, holding me constrained while he allows my body to stretch for him. He makes me stare directly into his eyes, holding my face close to him, his hot mouth hovers onto mine, our breath mingling.

I wrap myself completely around him, my boots pressing onto his ass to keep him buried deep inside. My hands hang onto his shoulders as if hanging to lift itself.

He begins to finally move, grunting against my ear, his beard tickling at my neck while he thrusts me fast and hard. I grind onto him, our bodies making the erotic sounds of wet bodies as they slam together.

This isn’t romantic lovemaking, he’s not tender and caring. His force is controlling, consumed by his demons once again. He fucks into me as if he wants to rip me apart, his hands depriving me of air, tight, perhaps too tight. Yet it’s still love, he would have not been able to have this with any other person and I would have not given it to him if I have not loved him as much.

The desk moves as he pounds me, he stretches his arms somewhat to lean me back, so he can look at me as I squirm beneath him, choked, fucked, and beautiful in his arms. We have both long forgotten our stupid game. We were too lost in the act of seeking out pleasure in one another’s bodies.

I look back at the man I love, feeling the tremor that dances between my legs. My entire body quivers. My muscles embrace him deep inside as I come hard around his cock, snapping my eyes open, gasping at his sight.

He has his fingers engulfed roughly around my throat, leaving blue bruises. If he’d want me to stop breathing at this moment, he could so easily just push slightly tighter. I’d die happy in his arms, but I know he’d kill himself before ever really hurt me. His hands finally snap from my throat and reach instead to hold my face, crashing his lips against mine into a deep hungry kiss before breaking away and letting out one final gasp as true bliss sweeps him away.

For more than a few moments, Walter is lost, buried deep inside me, surrounded by light.

That’s when I break, entangling my fingers in his big soft curls, I inch my lips toward his ear to whisper,

“I’m pregnant.”

Walter backs his face away to look at me, first with disbelief, his eyebrows rising, unable to even form a word. I’ve never seen so many emotions at once. Then a smile appears, so wide I think his cheeks may hurt. His beautiful teeth show and he lets out a chuckle of joy, sounding almost half-believing.

“Really?”

I melt as I see the twinkle in his eyes. The man who is always so grumpy and gruff looks now like the sweetest, most caring person in the world.

“Yes, we're going to have a baby.”

He kisses me lovingly, his arms wrapping around my back and holding me tightly.

“Detective Walter do you ha… SHIT!” A young cadet barges in, finding me with my legs spread around Walter while he is still panting heavily with his curls sticky at his forehead.

It’s as bad as it looks.

The frown immediately returns to Walter’s face. Looking at the cadet as if he is ready to murder him at the spot.

“GET OUT!” he yells, throwing whatever’s within his reach to force the cadet out faster.

I can’t help but chuckle, wrapping my arms around my mountain of a man, there is so much of him to hug, it always makes me feel so protected. He leans his cheek against my forehead and then lets out a deep sigh.

That’s when I know the darkness is returning, and now he has a brand new fear in him.

#Henry Cavill #Detective Walter Marshall #walter marshall #Walter Marshall Fic #Night Hunter #Nomis #HenryCavill

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1001questions · 3 years

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Dogs and Islam

I am not well-versed in Islamic tradition but I have Muslim family, although they are distantly related and not very communicative with the Westerners like myself. The little I have heard from them frames their faith as beautiful and peaceful with a sense of mental clarity and interconnectedness with Allah. However, they have also told me that “in the Hadith it says angels will not enter homes with dogs or pictures of them...” Pet dogs bring such joy, security, companionship, and love to a family. I cannot understand how, if domestically bred and raised, they would still be considered impure? I understand that physical cleanliness and ritual purity are different things. That was the only thing my auntie told me when I asked her about this. I would agree that consuming dog meat is an impure action, and if you are not comfortable with a dog licking you (I am not comfortable with anything licking me) there would be some restraint. But, giving the dog a pet or safe shelter, medical attention... are these kindness really so looked down upon in Islam?

Below is a Link to GRAPHIC content (first Link). It is a Sun article from the UK that describes a violent attack against a dog shelter in Tunisia. At least three men broke into a shelter at night - torturing and killing 20 rescued stray dogs. Torture involved nails and beating very young puppies... Another article (Second Link) described how many Tunisians, in keeping with their religious beliefs, felt that dogs are vermin and should be killed. Some going so far as to demand the release of the suspected preparators and supported their actions en masse.

I can rationalize this to an extent by noting that Romania has had a similar series of attacks against street dogs, including violent fatal attacks against dogs in shelters (see Third Link). Obviously the motivation for these attacks was not related to Islam and instead to a conflict that emerged between stray dog populations and some locals’ desire to progress and clean up their streets. As well as a perception that stray dogs are dangerous, which to be fair, they can be. Far more often however, their reactions (violent or more often non-violent) are the result of fear, illness or injury. How can a devote Muslim look at an animal in such a state and not at least feel for the struggle and suffering of the creature? Additionally, I understand that street dogs are dirty and can transmit diseases but that would be true of any living thing that was forced to survive the streets (people included). Impurity is not a inherent trait of all dogs, in my opinion. Just like people they can be bathed regularly, go to the vet and eat prepared food such as poultry, beef, vegetables or fish. Were they created dirty by Allah and thus impure? Or simply are they made dirty by circumstance? Shelters are institutions designed to compassionately care for these animals, getting them off the streets and ultimately away from the people who do not want them around. Why would someone be so offended by a shelter that they would break in and do such a monstrous thing? Especially, in the name of Islam and ritual purity?

I read another article (see the Fourth Link) that explained how the anti-dog sentiment evolved generations after the Qur’an and the Prophet Mohammed. It traced the concept of canine impurity to the move of predominantly nomadic Muslims into large cities complete with large stray dog populations. This would suggest (based on the limited information provided) that Islam and anti-canine sentiments are not innately tied together and in fact emerged out of similar issues that currently divides Romania.

The life of street dogs in the Muslim World is characterized by constant suffering and desperation. This is aggravated by the cruel treatment they experience by those who believe them to be Impure and thus something that can be hurt without consequence. Among those Muslims that keep ‘outside’ dogs for hunting or security there is a horrific trend around killing their pets as part of Ramadan. That is difficult to wrap my head around, killing a healthy and loyal family pet as a part of ritual purification and celebration during such a holy time. It is so against what Islam is and what Muslims are meant to be. Such actions (in my opinion) reflect the same motivations Medieval Europeans had for burning live cats, to ward off the devil’s influence.

The concept of impurity in Islam, as I understand it, applies to animals that scavenge food. This would obvious apply to stray dogs, such as it would to a homeless man or many species of aquatic life such as crabs. Yet Muslims consider scavenging crabs to be halal and do not view a homeless person as innately impure. The inconsistency here, is disconcerting because it feels as if dogs are targeted for a reason that does not actually relate to Islam. One that if boiled down stems from the exact same conflict between communities and street animals in regions around the world (Muslim or not).

These are the questions that motivated this post:

How are dogs and street animals addressed in the Qur’an or other scriptures and how is that interpreted differently around the world? How can dogs be seen as evil, if Allah gave them the virtues of loyalty, gentleness and comfort? Is compassion and generosity to animals pivotal to Islamic doctrine or an unrealistic ideal shared by only the most progressive? Would the average Muslim support the killing of healthy dogs due to ritual impurity, especially during religious holidays? Is there common sympathy for the fear or lack of options available to street dogs? Or is the belief that they are dirty for dirty sake exclusive and permanent because they were declared impure? Would Allah actually forgive or condone such barbaric actions against an animal?

Please note I am obviously expressing an opinion. I confess full-heartedly to my bias towards the sweet and loving family pets I have been around all my life, and I feel compelled to ask these questions as someone who has felt marginally connected to the ideals of Islam. I struggle with that idea as I am regularly exposed to interpretations that scare me away from practicing. I believe very strongly in everyone’s right to their own perspectives, I just do not understand perspectives that seem to encourage awfully barbaric actions like the ones described above. I mean no disrespect to Tunisians, Romanians or Muslims around the world. I am curious, confused and open to clarification.

I am not trying to suggest these links are reliable sources - this is the information I was able to access - any clarification as to where the posted links went wrong or my limited understanding of Islam in general is welcome as well.

Tunisian Shelter Attack: https://www.thesun.co.uk/news/12269341/dog-shelter-massacre-tunisia/

Tunisian Shelter Attack 2: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-8577059/Dog-shelter-horror-Twenty-puppies-tortured-death-animal-refuge-Tunisia.html

Romanian Animal Welfare by EU representatives: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CfJgy1PmR3I

History of Anti-Dog Sentiment in Islam Tradition: https://qz.com/india/1038116/the-moment-in-history-when-muslims-began-to-see-dogs-as-dirty-impure-and-evil/#:~:text=Dogs%20in%20Islam%2C%20as%20they,nullify%20a%20pious%20Muslim's%20supplications.&text=Canines%20were%20also%20crucial%20companions%20during%20hunting%20expeditions.

#islam #dogs #straydogsintunisia

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