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hass-an23 · 10 months ago

Text

9:45pm (Hassan el-Shabbaz x f!reader, 18+)

Warnings: references to past violence, Social Media saves the day, thigh riding, loss of virginity?, reference to erotophobia, best friends to lovers, unprotected sex.

A year ago, Hassan el-Shabbaz had been shot in the line of duty. Those were his words, but you didn’t believe that cults fell under the jurisdiction of a small town Sheriff. You think of that night as little as possible, and each time you do, you shiver. An evening like this felt impossible back then, and you were here, living it.

The two of you needed this movie night. The movies were mostly awful, but sometimes you just wanted to sit next to him.

He was, and is, your responsibility.

Ever since you hitched a ride in Hassan's airlift back to the mainland, Ali had gotten the impression you were in love with his father.

You were, and you knew if a seventeen year old boy could see it, you hadn't been guarding your feelings as well as you thought.

But that couldn't matter right now. Hassan sets the bowl of popcorn down on the table, on your side of the couch. He'd been scowling for the past few days, his latest medical appointment had been that past Monday. He'd insisted on going alone, and you, his best friend, had said alright.

And of course, the one time you didn't ride the ferry with him, something happened. Technically, it wasn't your business, but he didn't keep secrets from you.

"Did you see Ali this week?" You ask, voice even. With effort, he turns to you.

"Yeah. He's doing good with school so far. Apparently going viral is good with the ladies." You raise an eyebrow, "his words, not mine."

"That's good, that's good. Now how are you?"

He grunts in response, not anticipating you swatting your hand on his arm.

"Somethings up, pal. Talk to me." You order and he gives you the side-eye.

"We can watch the movie at anytime...pal." He replies in a flat tone.

You say nothing

Hassan can't look at your face, because he knows your expression. Your making a pout, but your eyes are wide and soft. You started making this expression when you noticed how quickly he'd cave to you. But now you were worried. The two of you are supposed to be closer than this.

"I don't want to wreck the night."

"Hassan, tell me." You look like you're about to burst into tears, and he knows you well enough to know what your voice sounds like when that happens.

"I got released. This is as good as I'm going to get."

"but you're still doing physical therapy, right?" you question, silently begging him to look at you.

"I am. But I'm weak, and I'm old, and you'll be too polite to say your bored with me."

"That's the dumbest thing you've ever said Sheriff." Did he really think you could leave him after last Easter? You flash on that moment in the church where Hassan was pinned down, and you broke an Instagram live record streaming Father Paul and Beverly Keane poison the parish, and themselves.

"Hassan you got shot. Twice."

"Yeah, I was there. I've found peace with it, but I'm not what I was." What the fuck did that mean?

"You're not supposed to be, that's how guns work. And cults!"

"Okay, yes you're right. But I'm still fucking old. I don't want you to be my nurse!" His tone takes you by surprise. If you were about to cry earlier, you sure were now.

"Then how do you want me?"

Hassan takes your chin in his hand, angling your mouth to his. You gasp sharply, mind barely catching up with your mouth

Hm. Warm. Scratchy.

And as quick as he pulled you in, he pulls away.

"Please don't say anything," he asks, and all you can do is smile- a full, face cracking, sunbeam of a smile.

"Don't do that with your face," grumbles Hassan, trying to keep his so-called "cop-face", but masks were slipping, if not completely gone.

"Why?" You ask.

"I'll have to do this," he pulls you back in again, more fiercely this time, beard scratching your face. You feel winded, but it doesn't matter. You just want to be as close to him as possible.

Hassan feels the same, so when he moves you into his lap, you let him. You'd pictured yourself straddling him before, but the real thing is always better than a dream, you knew that too well.

When you smile, he has to follow suit, it's near impossible not to.

Your mouths slate together with ferocity as pressure in the room releases. Your thoughts, your plans, that had kept you so put together were floating out of your mind with a frightening speed.

It's not until you feel his teeth on your neck that you push him back.

"Hassan, I'm scared. I'm not- I don't do this." Your shaking in his grip, heart pounding in your ears. He moves his hands to your waist, bringing you down. You weren't scared of him, not really. This was just out of your realm of understanding. Only slightly, but still far.

"It doesn't have to be anything past this, we can stop."

"No. No I want more." You declare, Hassan's dark eyes going round looking at you.

"You want more?" He ask, looking you straight in the eye to see your response.

"Yeah." you shake your head for yes, and he grins for the first time in months.

"Let's try this. He says as his fingertips dig into you, helping your pelvis roll against his. Sparks make a home in your bones. The hardness beneath

"Did you like that?" You hold

"S'good." You whine. More, more more.

"Nothing to be afraid of, it's just me, right?"

If your mind had been clear, you would have had him explain every move he made.

"Maybe next time," you think, not questioning that there would be a next time. What you don't realize is that your words were out loud. Hassan was in something of a tailspin thinking about next time.

But he can't let himself go down that rabbit hole. He needs to kiss you until all the thoughts that made your brows furrow disappeared. You

"Hm?"

"Stand up a second," he orders, voice raspy. You obey. Hassan quickly and quietly pulls down your pajama pants, helping you step out of them.

"Use my leg." He says, and you don't quite know what he means, until he pulls you back down into his lap. He makes the same movement as before, only grinding your clit against a muscular thigh. You gasp at the contact, sending electric shocks through your body.

If you had been in a clear frame of mind, you would have worried about the growing wet patch, or that he was uncomfortable with your full weight on top of him, but he rolled you down on him again before you could verbalize your concerns.

"Hassan," It's too good, I don't know what to do. You want to say, years of feelings bubbling up.

"I know, I know." He couldn't know! How could he possibly know how angry and scared he'd had you. How dare he be the hero!

"Good girl, always so good." He praises softly, and your body takes over your mind again.

Rolling, you finish with a sad little whimper, leaning as far into him as you can. He's warm and steady and soft, and you hum in satisfaction,

"Feeling alright, sweetheart?" He asks, moving your hair out of your face.

"More." You set your face into an expression you hoped would come across as stern, but it wasn't. Pulling away from his warmth, your hands take a life of their own. You palm Hassan through his sweatpants, making his breath hitch, before wandering below the waistband and pulling him free.

Is this what people do? Is this how it's always supposed to feel?

It would almost be embarrassing how quickly you lined him up with your heat. If it was anyone else, but it wasn't. It's Hassan.

"Steady, just like that." He coaxes, grabbing your hips and making you slow down. Instinctively, you lean your forehead down against his.

Hassan had many dreams about what it might be like to have you stretched out on his cock like this. For a moment, just a moment, he wishes he'd kept up with drawing do he could capture your sweet little face, trying so hard to be brave, to take all of him that you could.

"Still scary?" He questions as you nuzzle into him.

"No." You hide your face in his shoulder as he rests his palms on your waist.

"Nice and slow." He coaches, but it doesn't last long. There was a shift in you that he didn't

He feels you lose a colorful nail digging into his shoulders, as you meet him halfway, instinct taking over. You're surreal. You're so calm and composed, and here you're grinding into him like an animal, chasing something you couldn't reach by yourself.

Hassan thinks, "Go on, take what you need. Take everything I have and I'll thank you for it."

You flutter around him, and Hassan gapes up at you. Your teeth catch his lower lip as your sheriff makes a strangled sound, trying with everything he had, to keep himself under control.

"Where?" He asks, and it takes you a full second to respond, lost to him and yourself.

"I'm on birth control." Hassan exhales, helping to bounce you a few final times before bringing you as close as he can, feeling you squirm and clench down around him.

The sound that leaves your mouth is a sound you have never made before, but it's not your fault.

The knot in your belly snaps, the levee breaks, the high wire you'd been walking has evaporated beneath your feet, and you were falling.

You take him with you, all the way down. The heat between your legs feels addictive, and correct. Fuck the consequences, the two of you deserved this.

You shiver and shake as he holds you steady. Your pussy still throbbing around him, despite his softening cock. The squelching and gasping the two of you make doesn't feel real.

None of this feels real, but then again, Easter had been a once-in-a-lifetime traumatic event, why couldn't he keep you here, like this.

Hassan had many dreams about what you would look like filled with him. Youre delicate, worn out, just as exhausted. Here you were, a more beautiful picture than he ever would have been able to dream up.

Hassan keeps you wrapped around him on the couch. He wanted to ask what you meant by "I'm scared." If it had something to do with last Easter, he'd have to introduce you to his therapist. If you'd overcome a phobia to have him like this, he'll have to make it up to you tenfold.

Though it's not like that would take any effort. The moment he set foot on this island, you had him. It was just a law of nature.

Your sheriff tells you that he loves you, quietly, pressing the words into your shoulder. The two of you stay still, listening to the bugs hum outside.

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hass-an23 · 10 months ago

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You wanted my attention:

Jonathan levy x reader

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The atmosphere was alive with the sound of music and chatter at the party, every corner filled with people engaging in conversation, glasses clinking together, and laughter filling the air. Jonathan Levy, ever the introspective one, stood against a wall, nursing his glass of wine. He watched the scene with a mild smile, trying to look interested as his colleague from work went on about some project that he was supposed to be excited about.

His mind, however, was elsewhere. It was on her. He glanced across the room, and there she was—Y/N—looking stunning in that little black dress that she knew drove him crazy. Jonathan could feel his heart skip a beat. He took another sip of his wine, trying to act casual, as if her presence didn’t bother him. But then he saw her, standing close to another man, laughing at something he said, and Jonathan's stomach tightened. She was flirting, obviously flirting.

The guy was tall, had one of those chiselled jawlines that made women swoon, and was clearly taken with Y/N. His hand brushed her arm lightly as he spoke, and she leaned into him, smiling. Jonathan felt a surge of irritation. He clenched his jaw and looked away, trying to focus back on his colleague's monologue about quarterly reports.

"Hey, Jonathan," a voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Mike, another guy from work, who sidled up next to him. "You seeing this?" Mike nodded toward Y/N and the guy she was flirting with. "That guy's been all over her since she walked in. You okay with that?"

Jonathan gave a nonchalant shrug. "She can talk to whoever she wants," he said, trying to sound indifferent. "It's a party."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, but come on, man. Look at him. He's practically undressing her with his eyes."

Jonathan's grip tightened on his wine glass. He couldn’t let this get to him. Not here, not in front of everyone. He forced a smile and said, "I'm sure she's just having fun."

Another guy from work, Dan, overheard and joined in. "Fun? She's definitely getting under his skin. Hell, if I had a woman like Y/N, I wouldn't let her out of my sight."

Jonathan's eyes flickered over to Y/N again. She caught his gaze this time. He saw the playful glint in her eyes, the mischievous smile spreading across her lips. And then, she winked at him. It was subtle, a flicker of her eyelid, but it was enough. His heart pounded, and he knew she was doing this on purpose. He wanted to wipe that smug smile off her face.

Jonathan set his glass down with a determined thud, ignoring the raised eyebrows of his colleagues. He walked across the room, feeling the heat rise in his face, but he kept his expression calm, collected. He approached Y/N just as she was laughing at something Tall Guy had said.

"Jonathan," Y/N greeted, her voice sweet and innocent, but he could see the mischief in her eyes. "Couldn't stay away, huh?" She tilted her head, looking up at him with a smirk. Tall Guy shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension.

"Time to go," Jonathan said, his voice low, almost a growl.

Y/N’s eyes widened in mock surprise. "Why? I'm having fun." She leaned back against the bar, crossing her legs, making a show of ignoring him.

Jonathan leaned in closer, his voice barely a whisper but filled with intent. "You wanted my attention, Y/N? You fucking have it. Time. To. Go." His words sent a shiver down her spine, and she knew she had pushed him to his limit.

She looked up at him, her smirk fading, replaced by a glimmer of excitement. There was a pause, a moment where they stared at each other, the air between them electric. Then she shrugged casually. "Okay, fine," she said as if it were her idea all along. "Let’s go."

Jonathan grabbed her hand, leading her through the crowd. People noticed, of course, the way he was guiding her with purpose, his face set in determination. They didn’t say anything, but the whispers and knowing glances followed them. He didn’t care.

They exited the party and headed toward his car. The cool night air hit them, a stark contrast to the heat that had built up inside him. As soon as they reached the car, Jonathan turned to face Y/N, his hands gripping her arms, his eyes dark.

"You think this is a game?" he demanded.

Y/N looked up at him, her lips curving into a smile. "Maybe," she said softly. "But if it is, it’s one I like playing."

His response was to kiss her, fiercely and without warning. Her back hit the side of the car, and she gasped into his mouth. But she kissed him back just as fiercely, her hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

The kiss was heated, all-consuming, as if both were trying to prove a point. His hands roamed her back, her sides, pulling her against him. She moaned into his mouth, feeling his need, his desire, the frustration that had been building up all night.

"Jonathan," she whispered against his lips. "Take me home."

They drove back in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and promises. As soon as they were inside his apartment, he was on her again, his mouth devouring hers, his hands pulling at her dress, pushing her toward the bedroom.

They fell onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and heat. Jonathan’s hands were everywhere, touching, caressing, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Y/N arched against him, her breath coming in short gasps, her fingers tracing the lines of his face, his jaw, his neck.

"You’re mine," he murmured against her skin, his voice rough with need. "Only mine."

She smiled up at him, her eyes half-closed. "Always," she whispered back, her hands pulling him closer. "Always yours."

And for the rest of the night, nothing else mattered. Not the party, not Tall Guy, not the jealousy or the games. Just them, together, lost in each other.

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