#reader x hassan el-shabbaz

[tropes-and-tales]

unintentionally caressing each other with sheriff hassan? i’ve been dying for more of him 🥹

The very first touch between you and Hassan is a handshake.  When he arrives on Crockett Island, he meets many of the inhabitants.  He shakes a lot of hands.  He notes the tight smiles, the wary eyes.  The lone Muslim on a mostly white, mostly Catholic island.  There’s guardedness there.

When you shake his hand, you look him square in the eyes.  You grin at him, pump his hand.  You make a silly joke about crime in his new jurisdiction, but the atmosphere is so tense that Hassan cracks a smile.

You have that knack, he’ll come to find:  the ability to drain tension from a situation.  The talent to soothe, to give comfort.

-----

You’re a touchy person, Hassan notices.  You hug people, do this thing where you clasp their bicep, high up near the shoulder in greeting.  You’re the type of person to steady yourself on another person if you’re laughing, which is Hassan’s favorite:  he loves startling a laugh out of you, the way you brace yourself against him as you giggle.

You don’t seem to notice you do it.  It’s not intentional, he thinks.  

There’s a moment at a school board meeting when Bev tries to push an agenda of prayers in the morning class.  Hassan prickles at the woman’s prejudice because of course she doesn’t mean any prayers other than Christian ones.  

Back and forth the two of them argue, and Bev is so good at toeing the line of microaggressions.  She doesn’t quite come out and accuse him of terrorism, but she nudges against it.  Hassan feels his blood go hot with anger, but you’re the one who gently interjects that Crockett Island’s school is a public one.  You’re the one that gently points out to Bev that prayer is prohibited, but a moment of silent reflection would be fine.

You’re the one who lays a soft hand on Hassan’s wrist as you speak.  You’re seated beside him, crammed into a tiny school desk, and you reach out to touch him.  You give him a gentle squeeze as if to say, “I’m here.  I’m on your side.”

The warm touch of your fingers encircling his wrist…he swears he can feel his blood pressure ticking back down.  Once the issue is settled and the meeting moves onto the topic of roof repairs to the building, you don’t remove your hand, and Hassan’s pulse thuds slow and steady as you hold him.

She doesn’t even realize she’s touching me, he thinks but he refuses to shift.  He refuses to draw attention to it.  

Hassan can admit it to himself:  he likes the feeling of your hand on him.

-----

He never proactively touches you.  He’ll hug you back, a stiff arm around your shoulders, but he doesn’t initiate.  He’s not a touchy person like you, and what if he’s wrongly interpreting your touch as more than just friendly?

He’s happy with what he gets.  A friendly hug from you can nourish him for an entire week of his usual lonely nights.

-----

You usually stop by the general store on Tuesday afternoons, and you usually stop by his office in the back of the building.  You usually stand in his doorway and shoot the breeze with him, and it makes him feel almost like a native Islander—Crockett Island inhabitants are famous for their ability to stand in doorways (or sit on porches or stand on the sandy pathways) and bullshit with each other.

This Tuesday?  He sees you enter the store, and the glimpse he catches makes him sit forward in his seat. You look…off.  Tired?  A little drawn and wan.  Your bright eyes are missing their usual cheerful gleam.

He’s out of his seat and leaving his office when you crumple and fall.  

He gets to you first.  Karen, the owner of the store, reaches you second, and Hassan is already cupping your face, peering down at you as you slowly wake up.

“Wha—” you start to say, but Karen leans over, tells you that you passed out.

Hassan’s heart is in his throat, but this is well-trod ground for the people of Crockett Island.  Karen knows what the score is—you have a blood sugar issue, and it’s paired with the fact that you often skip lunch.  You’ve been getting dizzy since adolescence, passing out enough that people know what to do.  Erin mentioned it once in passing, and Hassan had filed the fact away but never witnessed it until now.  The older woman chides you gently, asks Hassan to stay with you, then goes to get Doc Gunning.

“Sorry,” you mumble from the floor. 

“Don’t apologize.”  He has one hand still cupping your face, and the other grips your hand.  “Do you want to try to sit up?”

You nod.  He gets an arm under your shoulders and helps you sit up.  You scoot back a little until you’re leaning against the counter and Hassan kneels beside you.

It’s strange that you won’t quite meet his eye now.  You scrub a hand over your face and stare down at your lap. 

“You okay?” he asks.  He squeezes your hand and he’s pleased when you squeeze him back with some strength.

“Embarrassed.”

“Why?”

You glance at him, offer a rueful smile.  “Well, now you won’t think I’m cool.”

Hassan laughs.  He eases his arm out from behind your shoulders, and he reaches out and brushes a bit of hair back from your face before his palm returns to cup your face.  He isn’t aware he’s doing it; it’s second-nature, unintentional.  

“Oh, I never thought you were cool,” he teases.  He draws his thumb over your cheekbone, feels the flush his touch raises. 

“Liar,” you reply, but your smile is more you now, less sheepish.    

He could ask why you care what he thinks, but he doesn’t.  He thinks he might know.  He thinks that maybe his nights needn’t be lonely forever.

Hassan shifts until he’s sitting beside you, and he eases his arm back over your shoulders.  He draws you against him, braces you against him.  He bends his head close to your ear and chides you gently as Karen had:  admonishes you to take care of yourself, to be more mindful of how you’re feeling.  He sees you nodding, hears you promise that you will.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and he holds you tight until the doctor arrives. 

[littleredwritingcat]

“O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us from the fire of hell, lead all souls to heaven, especially those who are in most need of Thy mercy. O my Jesus, forgive us our sins, save us…”

Father Paul is rocking back and forth, holding one of your hands with both of his own. He keeps repeating the prayer while Sarah tries everything she can to bring you back for the second time in an hour.

It doesn’t seem like an overdose. It doesn’t seem like an aneurysm or – or a heart attack. In fact, your heart is working at an incredible pace. And you’re burning up. And you’re bleeding. The nose is gushing a steady stream and blood is starting to trickle through the closed eyelids combined with tears and it’s coming out from your fingernails, covering the priest’s hands in thin rivulets.

Sarah has never seen this before.

And we're back!

Again!

To those of you who have held on this long - thank you. I know this fic has been slow to update, but I hope I'm crafting something that's high quality. I adore you, and you deserve that.

So, you know what this is all building to. Maybe not "how" just yet - but the inevitable is coming. *Of course* I mean a big fat confrontation between Sheriff Hassan and Monsignor "Liar Liar Pants On Fire"

This is where it all starts to get real, my loves. Hang on to your rosaries! From here on out, there's a dearth of sunshine and pop tarts till story's end.

Also, it should be noted that I have absolutely no medical training and your suspension of disbelief is going to have to kick in.

I'm a doctor but I'm not *that* kind of doctor.

Tagging some mutes and supporters new and old this time.

*mwah*

@everythingbutresolved @agirlinherhead @honey-tree-evil-eye @thenookienostradamus @prettyblondguys @girlwiththenegantattoo @midwestmisfit @rothko-mirror @jyngerpeach @chronic-ghost @yepthatsacowalright @lovepollution @ebiemidnightlibrarian @choosekindly @madsmilfelsen @purplelupins @daughterofaries @turbulent-protagonist @perpetual-fangirl900 @happyvintagegirl40 @vintageglassheart02 @p-e-r-s-e-p-h-o-n-e @labyrinthphanlivingafacade @

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

IT'S SPOOKY SEASON AND I COULD NOT BE MORE EXCITED FOR YOUR SPOOKY COME BACK

can I please request Hassan and 30 Days of Night? I wanna smash two of my faves together 🖤

I finally finished something!!! Yay! Also you were insane for this...but I should've seen it coming

My Hands Won't Keep You Safe

Pairing: Sheriff Hassan el-Shabbaz x Reader

Warnings/notes: blood; violence; I was overwhelmed by all the directions I could've gone with this but I ultimately wanted "soft"; it's actually pretty tame but I LOVE IT

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 1368

Your hand rests in Hassan’s and you try not to think about how you can feel his blood moving under his skin. Or how you can hear every heartbeat in the room.

“What are we going to do?” you had asked.

“Whatever you want to do,” he’d replied.

The others all wanted you dead, still do probably, but you had been the only one to hear the scream, the only one to run out into the night and bring her back alive.

They’d pulled the girl away from you and tried to bring an ax down on your neck. Would have if Hassan hadn’t put himself in the way.

A wave of nausea passes over you and you rest your head against the bars. Your skin is clammy from a sickly, burning heat, the epicenter the cut on your neck. You pass your tongue over your teeth, feeling the unnatural sharpness of them. The keen tangy smell of sweat hits the back of your throat but there's something else, something richer and sweeter coming to the surface. You look over to where Hassan is sleeping uncomfortably just on the other side of the bars and all you see is fire. He's bright and warm and for a moment you think the sun has come several days early. You want to reach out to him. You want to sink your teeth into him and taste the sun. You clench your eyes shut and cover your face.

“Are you hungry?” You look up at the sound of a gentle voice. The small girl with blood crusted in her hair is standing on the other side of the bars, holding a granola bar in her hands. You give her a smile that’s more like a wince, and shake your head, even though you’re starving. She tugs awkwardly at the sleeve of her jacket and the action catches your eye. So does the small trickle of blood working its way down the back of her hand.

“Are you okay?” you ask, but you already know the answer. It comes to you through your nose. Something smells off, you don’t know any other way to describe it. The girl doesn’t answer, doesn’t get the chance to.

“Get away from there.” It’s Roberta, an older woman who always spared you a kind smile, which makes the scowl she gives you that much more painful. Roberta takes the girl by the arm, guiding her away from the cell door. You watch Cliff–the man who came at you with the ax–take their place, his brow furrowing, nostrils flaring, knuckles white around his weapon.

“I’ve had enough of this,” Cliff says. “Those things are tearing this town to pieces and we’re supposed to sit here and wait for this one to turn? No. No, I’m not gonna do it.” Hassan slowly pushes himself to his feet, towering over the agitated man.

“What are you doing, Cliff?” he asks, his tone almost conversational.

“C’mon, Sheriff, look at them!” Cliff says, as if that’s all the argument he needs–and maybe it is. “They're a ticking time bomb! For Christ’s sake–they already look just like those things!” You turn away at the feeling of eyes on you.

“I’m not interested in unnecessary bloodshed here,” Hassan simply states.

“Unnecessary?” Cliff scoffs. “Way I see it, we’re just getting ahead of things, and you’re afraid to admit I’m right.” A tighter, more threatening circle had formed around Hassan as Cliff spoke and Hassan eyes each haggard, hungry survivor carefully.

“They aren't hurting anybody, and that girl is alive because of them, or have you all forgotten?” There’s a pause as the entire room seems to let go of the breath it’s holding. You hear a sound like the scuttling of rats.

Cliff opens his mouth to speak, but you shush him, hearing something land on the roof of the building next door. Hassan crouches down, his face close to the bars.

“What is it?’ he whispers.

“They’re surrounding us,” you reply, your voice just as quiet. Hassan turns to talk to the others, his hand outstretched in a calming gesture, but before he can get a word out, Cliff strikes him in the side of the head with the ax handle. Hassan’s head bounces brutally off the metal bars and he collapses limply to the floor. You cry out before you can think better of it, and reach out to him. Cliff brings the ax down and you recoil before he can strike your arm.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says to the others, and when some hesitate: “what? You wanna stay with someone who’s gonna gamble with your safety? Who’s gonna risk your lives for one of them?” He gestures to you with the butt of his ax. “Get going, we’ll make for the general store like we planned.” You try to catch the attention of those with doubt in their eyes, those who know you, who care for Hassan, who don’t want blood on their hands. You try to tell them it’s not safe, but none listen. They all leave, one by one, wind and snow blustering in behind them. Cliff hangs behind, and you watch as he searches Hassan’s pockets and belt. He comes up with the cell keys and dangles them triumphantly before you. Without taking his eyes off you, he pockets them and leaves, not bothering to close the door.

The scent of blood is overwhelming.

“Hassan?” You lay down on your stomach and reach through the bars, giving Hassan’s body a soft shake. Your hand moves to his face, turning his head towards you. A patch of blood stains the right side of his head and face, but his heart is still beating.

Soft growls make you stop breathing, and your eyes rest on the back door Cliff left open. Snow scatters across the floor, the wind wailing like a ghost. Another threat you can do absolutely nothing about. Cliff means to make you watch Hassan die–one way or another. Your stomach sits in a tight knot and you want to throw yourself against the cell door.

You carefully drag Hassan as close to the bars as you can, his arm resting in your lap, the skin of his wrist exposed. Those creatures will not have him. The cold will not have him.

Screams shatter the night, followed by the animalistic shrieks of the creatures. Something bolts past the open door and your body tenses. Hassan still hasn’t woken, and you glance at his slack face. When your eyes return to the door a figure waits there. It stands motionless, shrouded in the thick darkness. Your grip on Hassan tightens. You run your tongue over your lips.

You bring Hassan’s wrist to your mouth, but you’re suddenly not sure if you can do it.

The figure passes over the threshold, ushered in by the wind.

"Forgive me," you whisper.

The figure moves soundlessly, taking their time. Your teeth brush at his soft skin.

You can’t break it. Your mouth is frozen, your eyes open in a wide, desperate panic, your breathing frantic. You can’t do it. You have to do it.

A hand reaches through the bars. A small hand, holding a set of keys. You let go of Hassan. You can make out the little girl in the lamplight now. Her eyes are like yours. Her mouth is bloody. You glance at Hassan, worried she’ll turn her hungry attention to him, but she doesn’t seem interested. She just shakes the keys at you, and they jingle sharply.

You let yourself out quickly and go to Hassan, taking him in your arms. His eyes open slowly, as if they’d rather stay closed.

“I have to get him somewhere safe,” you say to the girl. “I have to–” you look down at the wet, warm spot of blood on your hand, the sunlight coming from Hassan’s head wound, and your mind empties, your mouth waters, your stomach aches, your whole body seems to wake up and reach for it. You clamp down on your tongue with your needle teeth and smear the blood on your pants.

“I have to get him somewhere safe,” you repeat, hauling the semi-conscious Hassan to his feet.

[ao3feed-midnightmass]

Late Morning

by royalsunshinehotel You had met Hassan el-Shabbaz some months before, when he had to ‘bring you in’ for decorating the side of your house with a mural. Bev Keane insisted it would “lower property value”, and it was “nothing more than graffiti”, and you had the sneaking suspicion that the sheriff only put you in his car so he could drive the two of you away from Crockett’s most popular resident. Words: 2618, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Midnight Mass (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Characters: Sheriff Hassan (Midnight Mass) Relationships: Hassan x Reader April 10, 2024 at 09:10PM Read it on Ao3 » https://archiveofourown.org/works/55118008 ✞ Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to let the author know you enjoyed their work ✞

[royalsunshinehotel]

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.

[grampstaxidermy87]

Behind locked doors

Requester: @badasseddy

Request: Hello there! I saw you taking requests and I neeeeeeed some more Sheriff Hassan in my life.can you write something with a fem!reader, when she's being harassed regularly (house broken into, stolen items and stuff, weird messages left) and nobody believes her. Hassan doesn't even know about this before overhearing the reader confront someone suspicious. So he tries to help the reader, maybe the sheriff spends a night at the reader's place to look out or something. It can be a little bit smutty, kinda angsty, and I would die to have Hassan in action, cathing the bad guy, saving the day.Thank you very much, I hope this gives you an idea.

An: Hello love sorry this took so long but thank you for the request! I agree there's not enough love for this hunk of a man! Hassan is legit my favorite character and I am in love with Rahul.Anyways I hope you enjoy darlin!

Warning:18+,slightSmut, swearing,stalking, break-ins, death, blood,stabbing.

It was funny really.

How the very second you show signs that your life isn’t perfect...that you’re different...everyone turns their backs on you. Just when you need them most, they look at you like you’re the devil coming to corrupt their ‘pure’ souls.

How fucking hypocritical.

Letting out an irritated sigh I tossed the broken lock into the metal can by my front gate, putting the lid back on I tugged my sweater closer when I felt another chill from the wind. The night was cold and windy as the island prepared for a small storm that would be passing by later tonight.

Normally I enjoyed a night of listening to the rain, sitting on my covered porch with a good book and coffee and just listen to it fall. It was soothing to me…but now I dreaded the thought of being alone at night for longer than a minute or two.

“Well, Howdy neighbor!” I jumped at the sudden intrusion to my thoughts, whipping around to see a dreadfully familiar face.

“G-Good evening, Wilbur.” I greeted back to the towering figure who leaned against the fence that separated us. Something I was grateful for.

Wilbur Murphy was my next-door neighbor, having moved into the old Mulberry’s house a month ago after they moved back to mainland to be closer to their daughter who just gave birth to their first grandchild.

I had been close to the elderly couple, being the last two houses on the street, so it saddened me to see them go. I had hoped to have the same neighborly relationship with the person who moved into their home, expecting them to be just as lovely as the Mulberry’s.

Instead what I got was a man who gave me the chills just by thinking about him, I knew it was wrong of me to start accusing the man of things without hard evidence.

But the signs all pointed to him! Ever since Wilbur moved in next door, I had received creepy letters phrased like a husband writing love notes to his wife, not to mention the few times I had even caught him snooping around my garbage when he thought I wasn’t home.

So when I began to see signs that someone was breaking into my home at night and messing with things why wouldn’t I assume it was him, but the worst part of it all was that no matter who I told everyone looked at me the same way.

Like I was crazy..

“That’s the fifth lock this week and it isn’t even Thursday! Those kids still messing with you?” The ‘friendly’ man inquired with a sickeningly sweet smile, and it took everything in me to hold down the bile that rose in my throat.

A small uncomfortable smile graced my lips as I forced out a laugh, "Ah Yea, you know those kids love their little pranks.” He grinned wider and nodded, "You know I could come keep you company tonight, make sure they don’t mess with you again tonight. It really isn’t good for a young woman like you to be all by herself in a big house like that.”

My stomach twisted at his offer, but before I even got the chance to turn him down, I heard the familiar click of my gate moving. “Evening Mr. Murphy. (Y/n).” Relief flooded my heart as I looked over to see the sheriff leaning against the old metal. His eyes were suspicious as they eyed the Creepy man but when they fell onto me, they turned soft and tender.

It was hard to ignore how much it affected me, leaving a pleasantly tingly feeling throughout my body and I knew there was probably a blush rising on my face.

There were only three people on the entire Island who knew of my crush on the island sheriff, My best friends Sarah and Erin…. And the sheriff's own son, Ali.

How the teen figured it out still puzzled me to this day, He had told me that he knew during one of our weekly piano sessions. The kid was smart, I’d give him that.

“Sheriff, what can I do for you?” Wilbur asked with barely hidden spite in his voice, clearly annoyed by the interruption.

Hassan saw right through it though, keeping a calm and easy facade but I could see the small quirk of amusement on the corner of his lip that drove me wild.

“Just doing my nightly rounds before the storm hits, Miss (L/n) here asked me earlier to help her prep.” He shot me a wink when he saw the confusion on my face, understanding donned on me and I quickly schooled my expression before Wilbur looked back at me.

“Oh, there’s no need to both such a busy man. Don’t worry about it sheriff, I can help (Y/n).” He just wouldn’t take the hint would he.

Hassan was unphazed however, shaking his head and waving the man off. “It's fine Mr. Murphy, she’s my last stop anyways. Plus, what kind of man would I be if I went back on my promises.”

Wilbur was getting frustrated, that much was certain as he realized Hassan would not be deterred no matter how hard he tried.

“I see...I suppose you’re right. Well, if you find yourself needing more capable assistance (Y/n),you know where to find me.” He spit giving Hassan a dirty look before turning and storming off back into his house.

It suddenly was easier to breath as I placed a hand on my chest, Looking over gratefully to my handsome hero I saw him closing the gate and walking over to my side.

“Is he always that...pleasant?” Hassan asked with a quirk of his split brow. Oh, how I’d love to kiss it...

“Sadly…that isn’t even the worst of it. Usually he’s much more persistent.” Concern filled those entrancing dark eyes of his as his brows furrowed together.

“I want an explanation. Now!” I looked down in shame at his scolding gaze.

Taking a deep breath, I braced myself before telling him everything, the broken locks, the missing items, the notes…everything.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me this (Y/n)?! (Y/n) the badge isn’t just for show, and even without it I am still your friend.” His expression was one of hurt, it was hard to look into his eyes...

“You should be able to tell me shit like this! Do you know how much I care about you?! I don’t know what I’d do with myself if something happened to you and I could have prevented it!” My eyes were wide when he finished, his breathing heavy as his worry crashed into my heart in waves. I hadn’t expected him to care so much..

“Hassan...” he took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I’m sorry..It’s just..You were the first one to welcome Ali and me onto Crockett with open arms and not a hint of prejudice, (Y/n) you have been there for me through every bad day. Hell, you even protected my son against Beverly when she was being her usual racist ass self! Yea he told me all about that, which thank you...”

A heavy blush was visible on my face at his praise, I had told Ali not to tell his father because I didn’t want him to possibly get in a fight with the devilish woman and risk getting in trouble.

“P-Please don’t thank me, Ali is a sweet kid and didn’t deserve the shit she spewed out of that unholy mouth of hers.” I gulped looking anywhere but him so I didn’t have to risk becoming more of a flustered mess.

“What I’m getting at is that Ali loves you (Y/n)…and he’s not the only one.” The last part was spoken as a whisper. His deep voice going so soft that I had almost missed it.

Almost.

My heart was soaring, I was on cloud 9, The very man who has plagued my every thought since he moved onto this horrible island just admitted that he loved me.

Say something (Y/n)! Anything!

Floundering like a fish trying to come up with some totally intelligent way to voice my own feelings I watched as misunderstanding flooded those dark eyes of his.

“You don’t have to return my feelings, I’m sorry for just tossing this on you.” He began to rethink everything and close in on himself but right as he went to back away, I collected myself. Quicker than he could react I grabbed the collar of his Jean jacket and pulled him closer.

Crashing our lips together he wasted no time in sliding his arm around my waist and tangling a strong hand in my hair, his mustache tickled my nose from how hard we were pressed together. I could care less, I have waited for this moment for too long to let anything stand in my way now that I knew he felt the same.

We pulled away for air, the taller man leaning his forehead against mine as an awed expression covered his face, his eyes shut in pure bliss. “Better than I thought it would be...” I giggled softly at his mumbled words.

“I’ve wanted to do that since the moment I met you.” His eyes opened and a dopey grin pulled at his lips, "Looks like I have a lot of lost time to make up for then, Huh?” Matching his excitement, I gasped as he lifted me up, my legs wrapping around his waist while holding onto his shoulders.

Our laughter filled the air as he carried me inside…stuck in our own little world we missed the curtains ripping shut next door.

—————

Hassan winced as he shoulder-checked the doorway, but he didn’t dare to drop me as he kicked the door closed and set me down on the kitchen counter.

Standing between my legs he focused solely on my lips that were meshed against his as his hands squeezed my hips making me gasp into his mouth, with my lips parting it gave him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue in to taste me.

"Fuck, you're intoxicating..." He groaned when he pulled away and moved down to my bare neck, kissing and nibling at my sensitive skin.

"H-Hassan, please...touch me..." His breath hitched in his throat at my whine, feeling his pants tighten as I begged for him to relieve the pressure twisting away in my gut.

"Don't worry baby, When I'm done with you, you're gonna be screaming my name." He said with that devilish smirk that drove me crazy. His hands sunk down to push my skirt up until it pooled on my hips.His mustache tickled as he kissed the tender flesh of my neck,all while I watched his every move with eager anticipation. A shiver rolled up my spine when the cold air hit my clothed privates. "Look at you, already so wet for me...shit baby..."

He pulled away slightly and licked his lips as he lightly grazed his thumb over the growing wet patch on my silk panties, "Don't tease!" I whimpered shifting on the counter in an attempt to press harder on his hand.

Amused by my pitiful effort he pulled his hand away,smirking when I whined at the loss of contact. “As much as I want to fuck you into the counter right now,let me make sure everything is safe first.” The look on my face was simply comical as he stepped away. “You’re a jerk!” I huffed feeling unsatisfied as I fixed my skirt and slipped off the counter.

His chuckle filled my ears as I pushed past him,only to gasp when a strong grasp caught my waist and pulled me into a warm body. His breath tickled my ear as he leaned into me,his hands gripping the meat of my hips to the point where I knew I’d have bruises by morning…good.

“You love it,besides I plan on making sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” A whimper built in my throat by the promise in his words,”But I have a piano lesson with-“ my voice quit on me when I felt his hot tongue on the shell of my ear,making my knees grow weak. Luckily his grip on my was the only thing keeping me stable.

“I think his father will understand,though that just means you’ll have to make it up to me..and I’ve already got plenty of ideas.” His husky tone vibrated in my mind,leaving me with nothing but the thought of him and what he was going to do to me.

“Hassan..” turning my face towards his I stared at his lips as he did the same to mine. Sharing our breath..I didn’t know who made the first move but I was thankful as we hungrily devoured each other,he turned my body and hugged me close as his hands knotted in my hair.

I pulled away enough to kiss along his jaw as I fought with the buttons of his work shirt,”Hah..baby you’re so fucking-“ a sudden thump from the second floor caused us to both freeze.

His grip tightened as he stared at the ceiling,whispering lowly to me when he noticed my hands shaking. “I’m guessing you don’t have a cat?” He clenched his jaw when he saw me shake my head out of the corner of his eye.

“Grab a knife and hide,wait for me to come get you.” Before I could argue he pulled away and began making his way to the hall that led to my stairway.

Reluctant to leave him alone I pulled a knife from the block on the counter and quickly followed him.

He sighed when he saw me,shaking his head he knew it was a long shot to get me to stay behind. “Stay behind me and don’t leave my sight.” He whispered and I nodded in understanding.

He took my hand and kept me close as he quietly trekked up the steep staircase,when we made it to the second floor I tensed when I saw that at the end of the hall the window had been opened and the picture frame on the wall next to it had fallen to the floor.

“Stay here,they might still be in the house.” I nodded and held the knife in both hands in front of me as I watched him slowly approach the window,stopping only to grab an empty vase from a drawer.

He glanced through the window to check for any signs of possible intruders before he turned towards me to say something…only for a loud thump to stop him. His head snapped to the door next to him that I knew led to my guest room, he glanced at me for a second to motion for me to be quiet as he shifted the vase in his grasp before slowly grasping and turning the handle.

I inched closer as he pushed the door open, looking around the dark room before letting out a sigh,”Nothi-“ I screamed when a blur tackled him to the ground,The vase shattered beside his head from the sheer force of his fall.

“Hassan!” I screamed when I realized he had been knocked out before looking towards his attacker with fear.

I should have known…

“Hello neighbor.” Wilbur Murphy leered at me with a terrifying grin.

“This whole time..it was you..” He chuckled darkly,finding the tremble in my voice adorable. He easily lifted himself off of Hassan before slowly approaching me.

“I’m surprised you hadn’t realized sooner darling,all those gifts and love notes. But it’s alright,I’m just glad I don’t have to sneak around and hide my love for you anymore!” Tears filled my eyes as I began backing away,holding the knife higher with trembling hands.

“S-Stay away from me!” His smile fell a bit,”Now darling I know you’re scared,But think of it this way:I know everything about you. You’re deepest darkest secrets all the way to the most intimate parts of you,I know you better than you know yourself!” He laughed holding his arms out as if expecting me to run into them.

I’d rather die.

“You’re a monster…you made me think I was going crazy…everyone thought I was crazy..” he had the audacity to not even look ashamed,in fact he looked proud of himself.

“Amazing isn’t it,all I had to do was flash a smile at those whores and they were ready to believe whatever I told them.” He hummed dropping his hands and giving me a once-over as he grew closer.

“You always were different,never one to fall for my flirty quips and smiles..it’s what attracted me first.That..Independence that I wanted to ruin..to make you reliant on me and only me was my biggest wish.” I froze when I felt the edge of the steps on my heel,I was trapped.

And he knew it.

“Don’t fight me (Y/n)…come with me and I will worship you,as you deserve.” He stopped once the tip of the knife pressed against his chest,not pressing hard enough to slice the skin but enough to show he wasn’t afraid of it.

I flinched when his hand came up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear,”I’ll kill him if you say no.” It made me sick to my stomach,how he could say such a horrible thing with that charming smile.

“I won’t let you hurt him.” His smile turn to a stoic expression,his eyes showing just how deadly he was.

“You don’t have a cho-“ motion behind him caught my attention,tossing the knife behind me I quickly threw myself at the wall and out of the way.

Wilbur yelled out in shock as a strong force body slammed him from behind,causing him to fall face first down the steps.

“Hassan!” I yelled grabbing the back of his shirt and yanking him back before he could fall to,we both tumbled back just as Wilbur reached the bottom with a loud thud.

“Shit…Are you okay?” He shifted onto his side to look me over for any signs of injury.

Shaking my head I let out a haggard breath,”No…All this time and he was right next door..” he frowned and sat up,carefully lifting me into his arms and hugging me close. “It’s over..He can’t hurt you now.” Tears cascaded down my cheeks as I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face into his neck,He comfortingly rubbed my back,cooing loving words into my ear as he looked down the staircase.

Wilbur Murphy laid unmoving at the bottom,his limbs twisted in disgusting ways a the kitchen knife was buried deep in his back.

Hassan would make sure no one ever hurt the ones he loved ever again.

[velvet-paradox]

Crushed

Fandom: Midnight Mass (2021)

Pairing: Sheriff Hassan x Female reader

Summary: Getting close to the new sheriff was easy, finding out you made him nervous was the icing on the cake.

Length: Long

Warnings: WOAH NSFW 18+, strong language, talks of past abuse, emotions, tiny mention of tobacco use, explicit content, the lawman is a sweetheart, SMUT, protected P in V, Oral (F receiving).

Tagging: @synnersaint @abandonedmemorys @topiaries @londondlady7 @rangotangomango @delightfully-anonymous @mrs-nandortherelentless  @obeydontstray

Monday's were shipment days on Crockett Island, meaning more work for you at the general store but it also meant that your day went by in a flash. Sometimes that Flynn boy or his friend Ooker would stop by after school and lend you a hand, you'd give them each a King size candy bar of their choice for their youthful efforts manhandling jugs of water and pallets of rice. 

"Are you coming out tomorrow night?" Warren asks, pulling out crumpled bills from his pocket as they fall to the counter and a few coins shatter to the ground in his haste. It was going to be dark soon and he wanted to make it home before then, something about some tournament online he wanted to watch.

"What's tomorrow night?" You toss his sweet tooth confectionaries in a small bag while you eye the boy over the counter.

"The high school is having an ice cream social, they're even gonna' let us pick out a movie."

"I thought those things were just for students and staff."

Warren shrugged and took the bag when the bell over the door chimed, another arrival and by the time you looked at the clock just in front of you by the beer coolers you had an inkling Joe Collie might be the culprit. "You were a substitute teacher, that counts right?"

"Hardly," you laughed fondly remembering how those rowdy kids did everything but their school work, they liked you so they didn't rib you too hard and you let them get away with it. Kids deserve some fun. Plus you didn't know what you were doing or supposed to be doing as Erin Greene had called you last minute the night before in a panic that one of the teachers was staying home the next day. Art was always your strong suit so covering for that particular class didn't sound that challenging. "That was one time Warren and you bunch scared me off the job for good!"

"Oh come on we weren't that bad." Warren mused and swung his bag of goodies, telling you you should come anyway before heading out, picking up his bike from the outside by the front windows and fall display.

Joe Collie was in fact perusing his options at the cooler, like he'd switch it up and not go with his old stand-by.

The door chimed again and when you looked up, and up for that matter you were sure that the sheriff would have to duck to get his tall frame inside. He was just a few inches shy of banging his head on the door jam itself. His thick black hair always looked in impressive shape, smooth and shining in the afternoon sun like he'd just dipped his whole head in oil. 

You were the first to greet the new sheriff and his boy Ali when they came to join the community on Crockett Island. Fresh faces with new stories to tell were always welcome, you could only stand to hear a few of the parents' drabble on with the same tales you'd heard for the past three years when you yourself came out here to the sleepy town that the world forgot.

You were sure he could be rather imposing at his height and build but to you he was kind and had a good heart, the officer didn't even carry a weapon. He strolled in, eyeing Joe who had made his final decision and was coming up to the counter. Then he spotted you. He raised his eyebrows with a small smile hidden beneath his trim yet coarse beard. You wondered to yourself if he wore a ten gallon hat, if he would tip it your way or cover his heart with it.

Even worse you'd grown rather fond of him but that wasn't a bad thing, not at all but it did mean, since the sheriff's office was at the back of the general store that you two interacted on a daily. Again, not a crisis but it made you sort of fall for the lawman. It was just a crush because of circumstances, you told yourself that for the first few months when you noticed how fidgety your hands were or how swollen your tongue felt in your mouth when you talked to him. Eye contact was a fucking Olympic sport to you now.

You kept that to yourself like most things, only Erin Greene and Dr. Gutting knew the real you at this point.

"Afternoon Y/N." The sheriff said, picking up a protein bar and made a face at it before setting it back down grabbed a Milkyway instead. Apparently the people here had a craving for sweets lately.

"Afternoon sheriff." You responded in kind, smiling at him and hoping he didn't see the big fat red stamp of SUCKER on your forehead. You eyed the wedding band on his finger and you didn't ask questions. You didn't see a wife or mother when you met them, maybe they were only separated or the ring held a lot of value. Maybe an heirloom of sorts.

"Ah Joe Collie, and what sort of night am I going to have hmm?" He adverted his eyes to the bundled up town drunk, though you had spoken to him and knew his distress and exactly why he drank so much you felt bad for him. A few times in the colder months you'd drop off an extra casserole or two to tide him over and hopefully fill his portly belly with something more substantial than booze.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Joe grunted and set down the beer on the counter, digging out his wallet.

"You know what I mean. Are you going to be sleeping over again?" The sheriff asked.

"Ha ha Sharif, I'll be just fine on my own tonight thank you." Joe sneered and gave you a quick unhumorous smile as he passed you a ten dollar bill.

The lawman pursed his lips at the awful name, knowing full well he knew the taller and broader man standing before him in his uniform with his hands on his hips knew his true name. Joe just had a poor outlook on life and he gave the amount of shit given to him to others and had made shit salad out of life rather then trying to turn his lemons into something sweeter.

"We'll see about that."

"Oh we sure will," Joe took his change and moved around the sheriff, making a disgruntled voice as none other than Miss Beverly Keane stepped aside, holding the door for him as if she were some saint and not the bane of most of Crock Pot's existence, including your own.

With a bare freckled face and single braid with the ankle length floral skirt of hers did she give Joe half a smile before coming into the store, making a beeline for you behind the corner. Totally ignoring the big man in the room.

"Good afternoon Ms. Y/L/N," you knew damn well that her smile was about as fake as that mock Coach purse she held under arm. She'd boasted about her clearance find on the mainland too many times to care at this point. "I have a question for you; we're having an ice cream social tomorrow night at the school and I was wondering if you might have any of those little snack cakes. You know the ones that have the little colorful dots on them or zebra cakes, anything like that? some of the faculty would rather not have ice cream at an ice cream event, can you imagine?" Beverly scoffed and rolled her eyes, surely rolling them so far that she finally took notice of the sheriff standing just behind her. "Oh! good day sheriff, I didn't even see you there."

He gave her a tight lipped smile, as phony as the one she'd just given you before nodding his head at her. You swore you saw him wink at you before he strolled past you to his back office. "Have a good evening Bev."

"Anyway, do you have any of those here, in stock?"

"Last aisle on the left." You kept your conversation as relaxed as humanly possible.

She turned and ambled through the little store.

When she left Hassan came back out, ducking his head out just a little like he was hiding from the big bad wolf making sure the coast was clear. He looked at you and genuinely smiled. You didn't see him do it a lot but it sure was nice and even nicer to be on the receiving end of it.

"Is it safe?" He joked and slunk out, leaving the door open behind him as there was no real threat coming the stores way.

"Clear."

"She gives me the shakes."

"Beverly has that effect on people." You snorted and chuckled at the image of this big man getting the willies from little old Beverly as you flipped through a random gardening magazine on the counter, you'd dog eared a few landscape designs towards the front.

"You know I've been wondering... I've only really heard you and Joe Collie call her Beverly, everyone else calls her Bev. Is there a certain reason or...?" He strode up to the free side of the partition, leaning his top half on his arm while he tore open the candy bar, little snacks like those were on the house per the owner's request of course, not because you were sweet on the man in uniform. No, certainly not that. "I know she's not your favorite person but... just curious I guess."

"Because she asked me not to."

Hassan snorted.

"Well not exactly, when I first got here to the island she was incredibly nice to me, overly so and told me she preferred friends to call her Bev. She's no friend of mine so I call her Beverly; she knows exactly why." You explained.

"You're not from here?" Hassan's eyebrows met in the middle.

"Oh no. I've only been around here for almost three years now, weathered four storms so far. It can get pretty bad, not as bad as 2002; I'll let Wade tell you that one."

"She seems to irk you more than she does me."

"That's because Beverly Keane is a fucking monster."

Hassan's eyebrows, thick and neat with the right one having a missing slash that you were dying to know how he got raised damn near to his hairline. "A monster?"

"Oh yes. She's more like a fucking werewolf in a duck costume. She's so full of her own garbage she wouldn't recognize evil if it looked her in the eye and she does not look in a mirror, let me tell you." You griped, letting curses fly free in front the sheriff. You should bite your tongue but God help you that woman...

"So she is capable of being tolerable?" Hassan asked after a quiet beat, tearing off a chuck of the chocolate before popping it into his mouth, chewy slowly.

"I suppose anyone is. When I got here..." you stopped yourself and tucked the magazine under the shelf at your waist before bending down on your elbows. "We're friends right, sheriff?"

He finished chewing and nodded, almost leaning more into your space. "Of course Y/N. Of course we are." He blinked.

"Not too many people on the island know that I was married before. Erin and Sarah know, now you and unfortunately Beverly. I got as far away from that whole situation, anything familiar or held some sort of memory. I wanted it all gone so I found the farthest place I could from all of it and I ended up here in the Crock Pot. It wasn't all bad, the first two years of my marriage were great actually. We had a fun wedding, decent house but then year three came and," you sighed heavily and gave him a look that had him slowly rising to his full height, crossing his arms over his chest. "He lost his job which meant he lost his pension which also meant that it was somehow my fault. A lot of my blood, sweat and tears went into that house. Literally."

Hassan's eyebrows creased and even though his beard covered the lower half of his face, you could see his jaw clench. It made a little vein in his temple pop.

"He'd knocked me around one week then apologize the next, it was a routine at that point and I was stuck on the hamster wheel. I didn't have anymore friends or family to reach out to, he made sure to check my phone constantly for that. He was so paranoid... it was a nightmare."

"Sounds more like torture."

"Oh that came soon after," again Hassan made an incredulous face his fingers now digging into the bulge of his arms scratching at the denim. "TMI but... we were having a rut like most marriages do, him smacking me around was part of it but we tried, we tried different avenues, read some things watched some things. We'd play this sort of cat and mouse game and at it first it was fun, we were both on the same page running about the house laughing about how he was gonna' get me this time," you shook your head and sighed. "But one night... he wasn't laughing. It wasn't a game anymore, at least not to me."

The sheriff shut his eyes, sucking his teeth before thinking about just what you meant by that. "He... hurt you?"

You knew what he meant by that. "All the time. He told me he'd kill me if I ever told anyone what he was capable of. He said it so calmly I believed him instantly. I was surprised when I gave him the divorce papers that he didn't put up too much of a fight, maybe he was tired of beating me, who knows? He did give me a going away slap in the face when we left the lawyer's office though."

"Christ!"

"A monster," you pointed towards the front door. "I know a monster when I meet one. Like I said, Beverly was too nice and too eager and when I felt comfortable enough, like I do now with you, I told her the same story. And do you know what the first words out of her mouth were?"

Hassan silently shook his head.

You chuckled darkly. "She had the nerve to tell me he was probably trying to beat the Devil out of me, that I had let myself be preyed upon. That it was my fault my ex-husband beat me, that I had given him a reason to and that he was trying to right my wrongs. Make me an obedient little wife. You believe that?"

He shook his head in disbelief and honestly it sounded absurd to your own ears, it was too eccentric for Beverly yet she had made you to the be the villain in your own story. From that moment on you refused to bend your tongue around the shortened version of her name. You wanted so badly to twist the knife she'd stuck into your side those years ago into her back and what better way then to make her feel a little dig whenever you two saw each other. You knew it bothered her, you could see that tiny hint of displeasure when you said her name. It made you smile.

"As awful as that is and I am incredibly sorry you had to live through that; I can't seem to put it past her."

"She's a monster just like my ex-husband, only she thinks she's the Devil is in Crockett and not within."

....

"What do you think?" Erin Greene twirled in her new skirt, shorter than Beverly's puke floral from the day before. She looked good in serene colors, sage greens and powder blues. Those always made her eyes pop. It was still conservative. She spun again in her living room that you were occupying, a couple of glasses of wine in. She didn't mind.

"It's cute."

"Cute? come Y/N, it's just cute. Look at the movement." She twisted in her spot by the couch, a playful smile of her face. "It's beautiful!"

"Where are you going in that anyway?"

"The social." She shrugged and picked through a laundry basket on the couch, pulling out a cozy looking sweater, perfect for the chill of this time of year when the sun dipped behind the horizon and winter's fingertips kissed the island. "Aren't you going?"

"You're the second person to ask me that." You took a sip and shook your head no.

"Who was the first?"

"Warren Flynn."

Erin laughed. "Why am I not surprised? that boy has had a crush on you since you moved to the island."

"It'll break his little heart when he finds out I have a crush of my own then."

Uh oh. The wine was talking, your lips loose with facts when you covered your mouth. Wide eyed Erin rushed to your side, a glint of pure ecstatic nature over her face.

"You what?! who? tell me! You can trust me." 

"I know I can I just-"

"If you say its the new sheriff I'm gonna' lose it."

So you didn't. You just shrugged and took a deep sip of wine.

"It is! oh I can't believe this," Erin squealed with delight. "You have to come to the school tonight, he's going to be there. You two would look so good together."

"Woah slow down Erin," you slowed her down. "It's just a crush. We see each other everyday it might just be an infatuation. Besides the man is married."

Erin's sweet face fell a little. "He's actually a widower," talking about the death of a partner is never easy as is but to hear it from someone else, someone you didn't work with everyday but a close trusted friend you wondered how friendly you and Hassan really were if he hadn't told you himself. Maybe it was too painful, still too fresh in his mind to talk about. Those wounds don't ever truly heal. You knew that. "She died a few years ago, Ali... he didn't understand and Hassan carried that weight for himself and his boy. He's a good man Y/N, you two would be lucky to have each other."

You didn't need Erin to tell you that, you knew Hassan was one of the good ones.

"I don't know Erin, I have no business at a school social."

"Sure you do, you were a sub once." Erin smiled sweetly.

"Again you're the second person to tell me that!"

The school gym looked different at night, the buzzing hallways now eerily quiet and vacant as Erin finally convinced you to join her and the kids for the festivities. On the agreement that you could finish off one more glass, knowing Beverly would be present you would like some sort of a buffer if you had to deal with her at any point that evening.

There were plenty of seats taken towards the front by projector screen, a few sat together in the back laughing and throwing popcorn at each other. It smelled sickly sweet in the gym. Erin waved at few teachers before heading over to the ice cream bar.

"Didn't think you were comin'." 

You turned and saw the sheriff posted up on the other side of the doors you just came in through, leaned up against the brick wall with one foot against it as well, surveying the crowd with his hands on his hips, his usual stance.

"I wasn't. Erin talked me into it."

"She can talk you into oncoming traffic it seems."

You laughed a little too loudly at that, a smile on Hassan's face when you moved to stand next to him. "If that traffic is named Beverly Keane then yes she can."

"Ya' gonna' go get some ice cream?" He looked imposing in the darkened room, dark eyes made even darker.

"Maybe later, I'm not really big on sweets."

"No? 'm pretty sure I've seen you eat a candy bar or two." 

"Here and there, not like you Mr. Milkyway." You elbows his side but he didn't even budge and then the wine crept in and made you think you might have just assaulted an officer. "I didn't mean to do that! I hope you're not gonna' arrest me."

"For what?" He laughed and looked down at you. You felt miles away. "Relax Y/N I'm off duty though I'm still dressed. We're just two friends talking. A little jab isn't high on my lock up list."

You fell into a comfortable conversation, watching the others mill about before deciding on one of three movies up for election and clinking of spoons in reusable plastic cups. You looked over to find Erin who was waving over at you, giving a thumbs up and you shook your head, wild eyed as she did so blatantly. 

Not in front of the sheriff! 

"I'm uh gonna' go find a seat, want me to save you one?"

"Nah you go on ahead, I'll be fine back here. Just in case Joe fails on his promise of staying in tonight."

You nodded, a little sad but pushed yourself off the wall and made your way around the chairs, picking a spot in the back row waiting for Erin if she ever did sit down. She must've gotten lost in a conversation with someone because the movie was a good thirty minutes in and you hadn't seen her since you were on the wall.

A chair moved next to you and you were just about to ask Erin where she was when you noticed familiar denim and long lean legs plop down next to you, knees out wide so he could he could fit comfortably. You smiled at Hassan and he returned the gesture, knocking his shoulder into yours ever so slightly before he clasped his hands in his lap.

....

"Just ask her Dad, how hard can it be?" 

You were helping an older couple from a few miles out load up their car with groceries, it was Half Price Wednesday and they were sure to show up every time. Heavy cans in one paper bag that you saved pieces of the broken down cardboard boxed from stocking so the older husband wouldn't hurt himself when they arrived back home.

You heard Ali's voice but didn't see him, bending over in the trunk to make sure their eggs and bread were secured on top.

"Not so loud, jeez."

"You're the adult here aren't you?"

"Watch it son."

You didn't want to take the tip the old man gave you, a few crumbled fives. He did this every week and every week when he turned to hobble into the driver's seat you would tuck the bills back into one of the grocery bags before shutting the trunk and waving them off.

"Come on."

"Ali wait!"

"Hey Miss Y/N!" You turned to see Ali walking up to you at the front of the store, jogging ahead of his father on the wooden planks that creaked under his weight.

"Oh hey Ali. How's it goin'?"

"Good good. Listen uh what are you doing next Friday?"

You frowned. "Why? is this some kinda' teen prank or something?"

"No no. I was wondering, well Dad and I were wondering if you'd like to come to the mainland with us next Friday." Ali smiled, one similar to his father's without all that scruffy stuff.

"Oh really? don't you two go to mosque on Friday's?"

"We do but," Ali looked behind him as Hassan was approaching the pair of you, his mouth set in a fine line. "Afterwards we go to this really nice restaurant, I think it would be nice if you came with us time."

Ali jumped a little when his Dad was behind him then, large hands clamping down on his sons' shoulders, grounding him in place.

"What are you two talking about hmm?"

"I'll see what I can do." You smiled.

"Do? do about what?" Hassan's eyes narrowed, not wary but curious.

"I'll see you around!" Ali exclaimed when you slipped passed them, patting the sheriff's shoulder and back into the store and just as you walked through the chimes you heard Hassan's tone slightly change.

"Ali what did you say?!"

You were able to move your schedule around, swapped hours so you could make it time to the ferry docks where the ship was taking on passengers. You recognized Ali right away, looking around as if he'd stolen something valuable. His light yellow jacket standing out amongst the plain blacks and browns of other people's coats. He caught your eye, excited that you had showed up in time to catch the boat with him and his father but you didn't see the sheriff anywhere in sight.

You made your way to the ramp.

"You came!"

"I'm here," you smiled and looked around as people moved passed you to get on the ferry. "Where's your dad?"

"He just went to the bathroom, he hates the one on the ferry," Ali chuckled. "I think he's just extra nervous."

"Nervous? why would he be nervous?"

Ali rolled his eyes with a smile. "Because of you. You make him nervous Miss Y/N."

Shocked you took a step back. "Well that's not good."

"No no, not in a bad way! nervous in a good way. He likes you; a lot. He talks about you all the time at home, not in front of mom of course but... I know my dad and he's giving off serious heart eyes around the house." Ali beamed and you felt dizzy.

You opened your mouth to speak, the sun shining high in your face when heard boots approaching. You turned to see Hassan out of his uniform, a thick sweater poked out from underneath a mossy green jacket, his hands shoved into the pockets.

"Hey Y/N, what are you doing here?" He asked, looking hard at his son.

"I'm going to the mainland with you guys."

Hassan let out a nervous laugh, wiping at his brow before you all walked together over the ramp and onto the ship.

"You are?"

"Well I was waiting for an invite from you but Ali asked me first, I'll take one invite from one el-Shabbaz over none."

It was cute. Downright adorable how right Ali was about his father, Hassan had bumped your hand when you got onto the ferry, he'd apologized and fumbled over his words like he was tongue tied. Ali laughed but was face deep in his phone, no doubt texting Warren all about it. You lost track of how many times he'd smoothed a large hands over his hair, how many times you had caught him promptly looking away.

They left you in the city, heading off in the direction of the mosque. You knew this area well and went into numerous shops and stores, getting yourself a coffee as well. Might as well have something hot in your cold hands, kicking through some scattered leaves at your feet. Fall had certainly set in on the coast, nights were getting colder and blustery mornings left your face with a light sting. Fragments of frost on your windows and door when you locked up and headed into work.

A while later you met up with the pair, their eyes bright and they looked refreshed. Both of them smiling as they came down the street to greet you, letting Ali take the lead in walking your group towards the restaurant that he swore had the best breadsticks. 

Ali was right. Everything in that little hole in the wall restaurant was delicious, you made it a point to take a picture of the menu and add it to your list to come back to. Hassan's sweet tooth was as real as it gets when the pleasant waitress came by with a fancy little dessert menu on beautiful cardstock. He shook his head but Ali urged his father, mentioning out loud that he always got dessert. Hassan seemed to panic and cleared his throat, making wide eyes at his son across from him. He ordered some cavity rotting cheesecake that had a caramel drizzle.

Hassan was a few forkfuls into the cake, close his eyes and lips around the fork as if it were heaven on a plate. Ali got up to use the bathroom, leaving you to have a possible conversation or to watch your town's Sherriff devour his dessert.

"Ali says I make you nervous."

Hassan choked and dropped his fork with a clatter off the plate, you were surprised it didn't ping off itself and fly down to the floor. He looked at you next to him, a slight reddening beginning to sheer through under his soft brown skin. "And why would he say that?"

You moved your mouth. "No clue, he seems to be under the impression that you might have a little crush on me."

Hassan took a healthy chug of his water that he had ordered with extra lemons before locking eyes with you, you felt warm and you could only imagine he felt it even more. The chemistry between you two was clear from day one when they got to the island, had shook hands and instantly hit it off. 

"Um... well he's not wrong," Hassan kindly smiled, tapping his fingers on the cloth covered table. "I just- I don't know it feels weird, ya' know? Not weird to like you but weird that I thought I'd never feel that feeling again. I didn't need to worry about having those anymore I had my person, I had no other reason or will to look at anyone other my wife. She was perfect," Hassan licked his lips and folded his hands next to the remains of his dessert. "It feels weird to like you so much, to think I could be happy again. I feel guilty."

"You don't think your wife would want you to be happy?" You asked and touched his hands, he twitched a little but let you touch him.

"I don't know. I was happy with her, I'd feel like I was disrespecting her memory if I consumed a life with you. I don't want to forget her."

"How could you? she was your wife Hassan," at the mention of his name, one that you hadn't said since the day you met him he perked up and really seemed to look at you. "She was your person, like you said there's no way you could ever forget her or what she was like or the son she gave you. You have those memories and nostalgia for that life, that's completely normal. I like you too but if it's too much, too soon or you're just not ready at all that's fine," you squeezed his fingers. "Really, you take your time to heal. All the time you need. It's not at all like my marriage," you snorted a laugh to lighten the mood and he smiled at that. He even tightened it his hold on your hand.

A week had gone by, your usual banter and jokes flowed just as usual with both of your confessions. You were both adults but hadn't taken anything further then just the accountability of it. Though you did register the way he'd take his time looking at you, gave you full attention and saved up his smiles from the day just for you.

He came out of his office, light on his feet and almost ran into you as you came around the corner with a box of oranges to set out by the window. Hassan held your arms down and actually moved you over, like moved you. Your feet barely off the ground for all of 3.2 seconds but you were in the air by his mere strength. It made you hot for the rest of the day.

You weren't expecting him to be waiting around outside chatting with Joe as he scratched behind Pike's ears. You were just locking up for the night, the sun going down earlier and earlier since the shift to change your clocks back. It was getting close to freezing at night now on Crockett, little clouds of breath hung around everyone's mouths.

"Mind if I walk you home?" The sheriff asked once you'd locked the doors. He had his own set of keys looped to the front of his jeans in case he needed to hold someone for the night.

"Sure."

There was a benevolent look about the sheriff, giving Joe Collie a pointed look as the older man put up his hands in defeat before starting off towards your house. It really wasn't necessary to own a vehicle on the island, not like that anyway all of the things and places you needed to be were right on this side of the island.

Sometimes you'd wonder what it must've been like to grow up here in Crockett, to grow up knowing everyone and everything about the folks who lived here, who fished here, who had prospered. It wasn't a long walk but it wasn't short either, just enough to have a decent chitchat or enjoy a whole cigarette. 

"I'm sorry about the other day," he stated, keeping his hands inside the pockets of his jacket. Getting the memo, this jacket had a nice thick fleece inner lining. "I didn't mean to spill out all of that."

"It's fine. I understand our situation is a little off but-"

"No I mean it," he stopped in the middle of the road, the houses that were lined on either side of the street had their windows and shutters closed, curtains letting out what little light there was left. "I really do you like you Y/N, I just don't- I don't want to cause more harm then good. I come with a lot of baggage."

You closed the gap between you which wasn't much but you could see the way his body stiffened up that he was alert to the conversation. "So do I. I'm not perfect and I don't claim to be, there might be some things you don't like about me or understand how I work. I may annoy the fuck out of you and you can't stand me, you could get bored or tired of me being around but..."

"But what?"

You looked up in his face, a shy smile on his lips while he stood there in front of you with his hands balled up into bashful fists. "But I like you too much not to try."

Hassan stared at you, trying to figure you out. That smile grew and he bent his head down to your level, dark brown eyes glittering in the overhead street lights. "I'd like to try it too."

Hassan smirked and looked away for a moment. "Is that your way of asking more than one thing?"

He took your hand in his, walking the rest of the way home. Beaten and warm.

You hovered on your front steps, going up two to be eye level with him, the other houses were black leaving you two in the dim light of the streetlamp near by. Not even crickets could be heard, just the faint swish of the water not too far away.

"Do you want to come inside?"

"Maybe."

"Ali will be home soon and I-"

"It's Saturday night, he's over at Warren's anyway, he's old enough to make himself something to eat right? he'll be fine. Nothing happens here anyway. And if it does," you pointed to his walkie-talkie clipped to his belt next to his keys. You took a step down and touched his arm with a question. "Too fast?"

"No. I'd like to come inside I just," he looked down at his hand, at war with himself it seemed as he spun the little silver band around his finger took a deep breath and pulled it off. He put in his front jacket pocket, buttoning the jewelry for safe keeping and gave it a pat. "Didn't feel right to wear it when I come in."

He told you to lead the way, following you up the steps and into your house.

After you turned on a few lights and gave him a quick tour, it wasn't a mansion by any means just a two bedroom bungalow but it was yours and nice and -

Before you knew it, Hassan had turned to you, ducking down and kissed your cheek. Just a little one, as if testing the waters as if he thought he might've lost his ability to kiss after so long. His lips were lonely. And soft.

"How about a real one?" You asked, he looked golden in the lighting of your bedroom. You put your hands in his jacket pockets, pulling yourself up him as he kissed you lightly on the mouth. He kept his lips closed, that first kiss feeling sending all kinds of tingles through your body was no doubt fluttering around inside him as well.

He hummed once he felt more comfortable, holding you close so you could smell his conditioner, beard oil and deodorant and something so distinctly Hassan you had to smile against his lips. His office always smelled like that. He pulled away, looking down at you.

You said his name.

"Fuck Y/N," he shook his head as his fingers flitted over your arms. "I know its' my name but... hearing you say it is something else. Only heard you say it once. Sounds sweet."

"It must, since now it's directed to you."

He frowned. "What does that mean?"

You smiled cheekily, cupping his head and talking lowly in his ear. "I say your name all the time, you're just never here to hear it."

Hassan practically growled, his eyes on fucking fire you barely had a chance to catch your breath before his mouth was on you again, kissing you harder, smacking his lips against yours like he'd never tasted anything better than your mouth right now. You moaned into his mouth, spurring him on when he started walking, tripping over his feet to get as close to you as possible.

"You think about me?" He mumbled against your lips, his beard warm against your cheek.

"All the time baby." He groaned and shut his eyes tight. "In the shower, in the morning especially at night," you hummed as he pushed his hips into yours at the foot of your bed. "But you know when I really sing your name; after I shave, nothing better than thinking about you inside me with nothing in the way."

"Ugh, you're bare?" He groaned again, chomping at the air.

"You wanna' find out?"

His eyes sprung open and you had never taken off your coat or clothes faster, the sounds of both you shedding your layers to end up in a haphazard pile at your feet.

"Fuck," Hassan had all but growled out against your thighs which he had been mouthing and nibbling over, "I almost forgot how much I love eating pussy."

You whined at the loss of his slick lips over your own, molding them back to your bundle of nerves. For a brief lapse you envied his lost wife having married this fucking mouth, with the exquisite way Hassan used his mouth against you, flicking and tonguing and knowing the way correct way to split your bare lower lips (save for the little landing stripe of trimmed of hair on your mound), how to suckle here and lap there had you lifting your hips against his working jaw. His persistence to get you off first, hands full of thick locks as if you'd float up and away.

Sheriff Hassan knew what he doing, that was for damn for sure.

Two thick fingers moved in and out of your cunt, curling them inside you. Exploring. You keened and tightened your grip, met with a satisfied groan that you fucking reeling. His beard tickled your naked thighs, the smooth and sensitive skin vibrating with his want and need to taste, to devour you whole.

"Don't stop don't you dare fucking st-" without warning you came, a squeal of obscenities as he lapped at your clit, savoring and twisting those thick fingers through your slick just how you liked.

As if he'd done this a thousand times. 

You closed your legs around his head, shuddering through your orgasm, smiling in the dark. He didn't stop, though his mouth was away from your heat his lips now secured around his own fingers, cleaning you off of them.

Quite the sight. "You're really good at that." You panted with a satisfied grin.

"Good to know I haven't lost my charm." Hassan laughed and crawled up over you on the bed, how wrinkled your shirt was on your belly, pant-less and opening your legs to accommodate his larger size. He held your face, bringing you in for a sloppy kiss. He smiled against your lips, he stopped kissing your neck for just a moment when you fumbled at your bedside, blindly grabbing into the little drawer for a condom. You brought it up between you, the foil crinkled and made Hassan look.

"Are you sure?" His lips looked almost swollen, being put to work like that.

"I am if you are." 

Hassan took the condom out of your hand, turning it over in his hands before pecking your nose and sitting back on his knees. His undershirt was the first to go, he looked good in the heather grey Henley he wore earlier now forgotten on the floor, he unclipped his keys and tossed them aside before tearing at his belt and zipper.

"You're sure about this?" God forbid you rush the man, you knew you wanted him but how much he wanted you remained be seen. He stopped just as his wiggled out of his jeans, large hands on his hips that drew just enough of your attention to the impressive bulge in his boxers. "I'm not pressuring you am I?" you asked and sat up on your elbows.

"No," he smiled and hovered over you, grinding himself into the soft meat of your inner thigh. You felt him pull himself out, at an odd angle but you did catch just enough of it when he tore open the foil and rolled the safety net down his shaft. Thick and brown and pointed directly at your center. You moved your legs further apart. "I want this. I want you."

"I want you too Hassan."

You saw him physically shiver, knowing what you were doing and then gasping when you felt him press himself into you. Hassan groaned, made incredible sounds and pants when he pushed. 

It was slow and intimate, the way Hassan had caged you in starting off with shallow thrusts, taking your facial expressions and hastening breaths as clues. You reached up and cupped his jaw, fingers scratching lightly into his beard until he purred and closed his eyes, long lashes nearing the apples of his cheeks. You smiled and brought your legs up to his moving waist, leaning up to capture his parted lips in a sweet kiss.

"You feel amazing." Hassan grunted, (clearly not nervous at all now) shifting his weight so he was pressed up on his arm while the other felt around your ribs, ghosting over you covered breast, giving one a loving squeeze. "I want this to last, not sure how long I can though. Never felt a grip like this before."

He seemed to be talking to out loud, looking down between your bodies, his free hand coming around you leg to grip your thigh.

"You know this isn't a one time thing right?" You mewled and pressed your chest up into his, your hands holding onto the hem of his shirt, guiding him back in when he reared back.

He paused. "I was really hoping you would say that." He laughed and it vibrated through you.

He picked up the pace after that, not entirely spearing his cock into you but more of a molding together, your walls clenching around him to keep him right where you needed. Everything between you felt incredible and sweet, the way he looked at you while he broke you apart had your mouth opening with a silent plea, a beg to get you off again. Hassan bit down on your shoulder, a fulfilled sigh passing through his teeth.

A few hours had passed by, at least. A few more foil packets littered the floor under your bed. If you could, you'd have him soak in you, keep his thick cock lodged deep inside you while you slept. Or at anytime honestly now that you had broken down the barrier. Even though Hassan had just made love to you again, not fucking though with the power he had in those hips and strong legs of his you knew he could really lay it down if you asked. His hands moved on their own, feeling every inch of your skin, shedding you of your shirt and bra. Both of you naked and basking in the early morning hours of a frosty day.

He was fast asleep next to you, wore out and sated for the first time in years. He looked so blissful and sweet you didn't want to wake him but with the rays from your blinds expanded along your wall, you knew you had to get up.

So did Crockett's lawman.

You turned in his arms, giggling quietly when he stretched still asleep, to pull you to him. You stroked the bridge of his nose which he promptly wrinkled. "Hassan... we should get up."

"Mmm not yet."

You laughed and did it again. "The town is on fire."

" 's fine, we're surrounded by water."

You shook your head and snuggled into him, breathing him in which now held tiny hints of your own scent. You liked the feeling of his fingers, strong and capable of so much tickle the blade of your shoulder, holding you close. You shrugged off getting up, everyone who wanted a seat at Saint Patrick's would be putting on their Sunday best and ready for service. And besides; nothing ever happened on the Crock Pot anyway.

As you fell back to sleep there was no way in knowing just how naïve and sadly wrong you were.

[imaginesandideas]

if we’re being filthy… hassan likes c*ckwarming change my mind

why would I tho....... 👀

pick up the phone

NSFW (+18) under the cut !!!

„Yes, yes, of c-ourse.” He’s trying so hard not to groan right now. This call is taking way too long. So long, it’d be enough to bore someone else to death, but he’s going through something so much worse…

That old couple from a few houses away is doing their weekly shopping in the general store just behind the wall, and Hassan’s on the phone with some captain from the mainland who was supposed to bring some important supplies, but you couldn’t care less.

Your ass is basically dancing on his lap at this point, his cock slipping in and out ever so slightly with each roll of your hips.

And honestly, it requires a lot of patience and mental strength to watch you like this and not to grunt at least. In fact he already did it, twice, and covered it up with a cough or four.

Hassan’s always impressed with how skilled you are when you want something. Even more if he asked for it first.

And yet you’re so cruel for doing him like this. He only asked you to sit on him, to let him slide into you, just for a bit. And now his choking on his words like a schoolboy in the principal’s office.

Though he cannot help but let his free hand explore the treat sitting on him, as you’re gripping his weeping dick with your tight walls. His fingers expertly reveal your bare hip from underneath your knee-length skirt making it so much harder for him to focus.

He’s so hungry for you he kneads your flesh like he wants to bite it, mark it.

He has to bite back that moan but some of it still spills out and you turn your head to shoot him a glare.

„Sssh! You’re on the phone!” You whisper-yell and he mouths back an apologetic „I know!”, even though it’s all your fault. You and your pretty ass will get him in trouble one of these days but he knows it’ll be worth it.

[raggedy-dxctor]

dating Sheriff Hassan headcannons

feel like he's gonna be your biggest fan ever

he's so proud of you no matter what

big fan of hugs, like bear hugs and hugs where he picks you up and twirls you around

big fan of pda, holds you band everywhere and isn't scared to kiss you infront of anyone, his favourite thing about pda is bev's digust and shock

the type to wake you up with a cup of coffee every morning

always there for you, he's the perfect shoulder to cry on and you're always there for him, which he absolutely adores about you

take care of ali and help him in any way you can and this man will put a ring on your finger in no time

take the piss out of bev and annoy her and he'll be so in love with you for the rest of time

probably makes little photo books like scrap books of you both and gives it to you on your anniversary or birthday

big fan of pet names

literally could not care less what your religion or beliefs are, as long as you're respectful he'll love you until his last breath

bonus points if you're interested his takes on religion, beliefs, etc and let him teach you about it, the whole time he'll just be the embodiment of tue heart eyes emoji

flowers left right and centre, gives you a new bunch every month

so determined to help you achieve your dreams and goals

lowkey dates like cuddling on the sofa as you watch movies or walking around the island

[crohno]

SCREWED. ❜ [ Sheriff Hassan x Reader ]

Summary:  You’re as much in my control as I am in yours, Sheriff. Warnings:  18+, blowjobs and general sexy vibes.

Have a request for this guy?  Drop it in my ask box!

“I think you should swing by when you have a moment, Sheriff.”

“I will do.”

It was an empty response, one that he delivered with the sole intention of getting Wade the fuck out of his office.  There wasn’t a chance that he was going to trawl around the neighbourhood looking for some ‘’wayward youth’’, as he’d phrased it, not even in a blind effort to appease the people of Crockett.  So the kid didn’t attend church this week…  so what?

This place was starting to worry him now, if he was being honest.  The locals had always clashed with him on a belief system front, but their intensity towards the church--  particularly Wade and Sturge, and he wasn’t even going to mention Bev Keane in this particular equation--  seemed to be increasing these days.  Their reasons escaped him  -  and he didn’t care to know.

“I hope you do.  Oh, and…”   He paused by the door, giving Hassan a cursory glance.   “You’re still welcome at Mass.”

“... thanks,”   he said dully, not keen on him sticking around any longer.  He knew not to say ‘I’m not a Christian.’ anymore--  not because it wasn’t true, but because nobody listened regardless.  It was a waste of his time, of his breath, and he was growing tired of reminding people.  Mercifully, Wade left a moment later, the door’s soft click making the sheriff release a huff of relief.

His large hand smoothed over your head, stroking your hair gently.  Beneath the desk you knelt, tucked neatly between his legs like a box he’d yet to kick underneath and out of sight.

“Maybe you need to attend church,”   he remarked facetiously, watching as you took his entire length without so much as a gag, your throat delightfully full.   “Couldn’t even wait a minute for the guy to leave?  What am I gonna do with you?”

This was a common occurrence--  a habit that you’d both adopted in direct retaliation to the fiery chemistry between you--  but nobody else had ever entered the office before.  Sheriff Hassan’s post was a quiet one, given how small the island was.  Trouble didn’t often arise in such a pervasively Catholic environment.  Still, the opportunity had been too good to resist…  there wasn’t a chance in hell that you were going to stop, not when there was the chance to make him stutter in front of somebody who was none the wiser.

To his credit, he’d held it together pretty well--  but his grip on your shoulder had been like a vice, fingers digging in with enough pressure to hurt, and you hadn’t missed the slight quaver in his voice when he’d told Wade that he’d see to it.

As if to offend him, you pulled up, letting him go with a satisfying pop!   “Would you rather I stop?”

“Fuck no,”   he replied, a wolfish smile curling across his face as his fist tightened in your hair, guiding you back to your rightful place.  Without complaint, you dragged your lips along the underside of his cock, delighting in its pleasant weight, eyes glued to his face as you followed its curve back up.  You pushed your lips taut around the tip, though did not go any further, a wicked glint in your eye.   “Don’t tease,”   Hassan said darkly, the force of his palm growing harsher, pushing your head further down.  If you’d been able to smirk, you would have, but all you were really capable of was letting your eyes roll back in pleasure, sinking into that wonderful oblivion once more.

Hassan needed this.  He needed it so badly that he hadn’t thought to say no the first time that things had played out like this.  It wasn’t just the sex;  it was the company.  There was exactly one person, not counting his own son, that respected him in this God-forsaken pit of a town and it was you.  You’d never once addressed him poorly, nor spoken ill of his faith.  You were warm, receptive, safe--  and fucking gorgeous to top it all off.

“Fuck…”   His head fell back, a candid moan leaving him as he felt his pleasure mounting, something feral and ugly twisting inside of him like a knife.  This sort of release was a sin, that he could acknowledge, but it wouldn’t stop him.  In fact, he actively chased it--  abused your mouth and between your legs every damn week, sometimes multiple times a week despite your prior agreement that you wouldn’t spend too much time together for fear of getting caught--  and the consequences could be damned.  He was sure that after he died, all the good he’d tried to do in his life would atone for the few times he’d gotten his dick wet.   “I’m…  I’m close, [Y/N].”

You knew what was coming  -  but it was still the sweetest thing in the world to you when he lost control of himself.  He barely managed to manoeuvre you from under the desk without having you bump your head before he stood up, dragging you up onto your knees by your hair.

“Stay still,”   he ordered, his voice stern and hot.  Even without him telling you to, you knew to keep your mouth open, a thin string of drool dripping from the corner of your mouth as you stared up at him with bright eyes.  He was large, and though you’d adjusted to him by now, he was still a lot to take.

When he first slid himself into the warm wetness of your mouth, it was difficult for you to fight the urge to lock your lips around him and suck.  By the fifth time, you were blissfully accustomed to the breakneck pace at which he was fucking your mouth with, your lips remaining obediently agape, tongue flat and welcoming.  Your eyes said it all, hazy and smouldering:

I’m so happy you can take your frustrations out on me, Sheriff. You’re as much in my control as I’m in yours, Sheriff. Cum for me, Sheriff.

“Ngh, [Y/N]...”   His hips stuttered to a sudden stop, a guttural growl released as he came.  It was thick and heavy on your tongue, and had you liked him less, you might have thought twice about swallowing it.  This was Hassan, though…  your beloved Hassan, and you couldn’t say no to him, didn’t want to either.   “Le’me see…”   he panted, his thumb hooking onto your lower lip and dragging it down as he observed your now-clean tongue with hawk-like precision.   “Good girl.”

Smiling up at him felt a lot like baring your teeth, a sick sort of triumph roaring to life in your chest.  He may have been overpowering to you, physically stronger without a doubt, but the power you had over him was visible too.  It showed in the rapid rise and fall of his chest, in the labour of his breath, in the trembling hands and the spent cock that was still half-hard.

Without you, there was no pleasure quite like this.

He was just as screwed as you were.

[tropes-and-tales]

Oh my gosh, more prompts! 🤗

Because I watched it recently, may I request “you can kiss me, you know” OR “come back to bed” with the one and only Sheriff Hassan?

Hassan grew up and lived in the city for most of his life, so he’s not prepared for a lot of the realities of island living.

The quiet, for example.  The darkness, for another.  Crockett Island is so small and sparsely populated that Hassan has to relearn how to fall asleep without the ceaseless sound of traffic and city noises.

There’s also the proximity to nature.  In the city, it was often easy to pretend that nature was a tame thing, something to bind up in manicured parks.  On the island, nature can be fierce and unpredictable and right outside his door.

Like the storm rolling across the tiny island.  Hassan stands at his bedroom window, watching it.  Lightning flashes leave blue-white afterimages floating behind his eyelids  The lightning bursts illuminate the sheets of rain drumming from the sky, the wind bending the scrubby trees nearly in half.  The first roll of thunder woke him up, but you?

You grew up on Crockett Island.  You don’t wake when the storm starts, but you stir now—he hears the rustling of the sheets, the sleepy groan you make—and then you wake.

A moment later, he hears the soft thump of your feet hitting the floor, and a moment after that, he feels your arms slide around his bare waist.

“Enjoying the show?” you ask, and your voice is sleep-rough, smoky.  

“Never had storms like this in the city.”

“You did.  You just never noticed because there wasn’t as much sky.  It got blocked out by all the buildings.”

He hums in agreement.  He gets an arm around you, then gently pulls you to him until you’re tucked under his arm and against his side.  He turns his head to drag his nose through your hair, to take in the familiar scent of you.

You stand together at his window and watch the storm.  When a particularly close-sounding peal of thunder booms, he jumps and it makes you laugh.

“Tough guy sheriff scared by a little rain?” you tease, and you draw your fingernails along the naked skin of his side, making him squirm at the ticklish sensation.

“I’m not scared of anything,” he replies, and he drops his voice, makes it gruff to sound tougher.  You laugh again.

“Duly noted, Sheriff.”  You release him, and you tilt your head up to him with your lips pursed until he grins, bends his head, and kisses you.

“Come back to bed,” you add.  You do a cute pirouette as you spin away from him, back towards the bed. Hassan watches you in the half-light of the bedroom, takes in the sight of you in his discarded t-shirt, your hair mussed and wild.  

Another crack of lightning startles him from his reverie, and he—taller, with longer legs—takes a few strides to catch up to you.  He scoops you into his arms, your surprised squeal ceding to laughter as he carries you the rest of the way and then unceremoniously dumps you onto the bed.  He dives right in, follows you down and cages you in with his arms as he arches his body over yours.  He dips his head and kisses you again, this time with more intention.

Maybe he’s a little scared of the storm.  He’s not used to such wild weather right at his door—but island living has its upsides, like weathering the storms…in bed…with you.

[nocturnal-milk-dud]

Room For Two

Pairing: Sheriff Hassan el-Shabbaz x Reader

Summary: Ali gets into trouble and goes to you instead of his dad

Warning/notes: mini angst; some fluff; stressed out dad Hassan; drowning reference; inebriation; two very smart dumb people; yearning; I'm only on episode 4 so maybe this sucks and is OOC, and also no spoilers please

@artemiseamoon @heresathreebee @acrossthesestars

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 989

The boy stands on your porch, shivering and drenched to the skin, looking like a cat that fell in a bathtub. His whole right side is covered in mud, and he’s missing a shoe.

“I can’t go home,” he pleads with you. Ali had been coming back from the Uppards with Ooker and Warren when the sky broke open with rain, and the wind and waves tossed the boat around. And now he’s at your door, too scared to go home and face his dad. You let the boy in and find him a towel, a faded band tee, and a pair of gray sweatpants that used to belong to your husband. For some reason you can’t get rid of them. You get a glass of water and place it on the bedside table.

“I have to call your dad,” you say once Ali is settled in your spare bedroom. He starts to protest but you give him a look that shuts him up immediately. “I need to call him. He needs to know where you are, and that you’re safe.” Your tone tells him there’s no room for arguing, so he doesn’t. Instead he punches the pillow a couple times and hunkers down under the covers. You shut off the light and close the door. 

You’re sitting on the porch when Hassan arrives. You’d called him after putting Ali’s clothes in the washer and checking in on the boy one more time. 

“Sheriff,” you say, putting on a heavy Southern accent and tipping an imaginary hat. The action usually gets a smile out of him, but not tonight. Hassan is ruffled, mentally and physically. His hair is falling in front of his forehead, and he’s wearing a gray t-shirt, jeans and a jacket thrown on in a hurry. He bounds up your porch steps. 

“Where is he?” Hassan asks.

“He’s inside,” you say. Hassan reaches for the door and you reach for Hassan, putting a hand on his arm. “Sleeping,” you add. “Sit down.” You gesture to the small cushioned sofa. He meets you halfway, deciding to lean unhappily against the railing, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you remain there in a heavy silence.

“Are you okay?” you try, not quite sure how else to break the silence.

“My son almost drowned and he thought he couldn’t tell me about it, so no, not really,” he says before smoothing a hand over the lower half of his face and searching the porch for answers. “Why didn’t he just come home?” You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t already been thinking about this question, or some version of it. 

“At my parent’s house there was a tree outside my bedroom window. I would use it to sneak out. One night when I was sixteen, I came home completely wasted. But I climbed that tree so much that I didn’t even think about it. I fell and broke my arm. I was more scared of my dad than the pain, but I was also too drunk to really feel it, and I know it’s not the same. Anyway, if I had someone like me then, I would’ve gone to them too. All I could think was my dad was gonna be pissed--it didn’t cross my mind that he might be scared. Talk to him tomorrow, hug him. It’ll work out.” You see the tension slowly leaving Hassan’s shoulders and he rubs the back of his neck. You curl your fingers in your blanket, unable to stop yourself from imagining his face cradled in your hands, relaxing as you stretch up on tiptoe to kiss his forehead.

“What did your dad do?” Hassan asks eventually.

“He asked me if I was okay, took me to the hospital. When it was all over he laughed at me and grounded me for a month.” You smile at the memory, and the two of you are silent again. It’s late, and you’re tired. You know he is too, the adrenaline having seeped out, taking its effects with it. 

“You can stay here if you want,” you offer. “There’s room.” Hassan shakes his head, pushing away from the railing.

“I need to walk,” he says and you watch as he lopes down the steps and stalks off into the night. 

Hassan does come back. The cold hits hard halfway through his walk, and he’s huddled deep into his jacket, fists in his pockets pulling it tight around his chest. And he’s exhausted, so much more than he realized. Your porch is empty when he returns, but you have a bad habit of leaving the dutch door to your kitchen unlocked. He lets himself in, kicking off his boots, making sure to lock the door behind him. The house is quiet and he treads softly back to your bedroom. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he gets there, and his heart is beating insistently, a beat he hasn’t felt in what seems like a very long time. Your door is closed and it’s dark at the gap between the door and the carpet. Hassan lifts his hand. He wants to knock, but he doesn’t, just rests his hand on the door. 

You’re not sleeping. A tree branch is knocking at your window and you’re staring at the ceiling, thinking things that you reserve for the dark privacy of your bedroom. Hands pulling warmth back into your body, a beard brushing against your skin, deep growls buried in the curve of your neck. You can’t turn your brain off and eventually you give up and leave the room. When you turn the lights on in the kitchen you see him. Hassan is stretched out on your couch, fast asleep, arm tucked under his head. You smile softly and pull a blanket off the back of a chair, covering him with it. You want to do more: place a kiss on his forehead or stroke his cheek, but you don’t. You shut the lights off and go back to your room. 

[space-helen]

Saved

Words: 1683

Pairing: Sheriff Hassan x reader

A/N: Spoilers ahead (ofc) I really liked writing this one

Request:  I finished midnight mass the day it came out and this has been going through my head since. Sheriff Hassan x reader where she hasn't been going to mass either and she's with the group at the end and helps save him? Maybe they get away? - Anon

______________________

You splashed the gas over the back of the building knowing Erin was inside and the Sheriff was out the front. 

Dropping the can to the floor you took a couple of steps back and waited as instructed. 

What you didn’t expect to hear was a large bang, a gunshot. Eyes wide you stood and listened, you could hear the murmur of voices.

You knew if you moved in the direction of the voices you’d be dead. Frozen in time you felt your chest heaving, the nights events finally catching up with you.

Eventually snapping out of it, not knowing how much time had passed you reached for your pocket and tried to pull out the lighter, the building should have caught fire by now. 

Hoping no one was inside you opened the lighter and hesitated. Moving your thumb ready to strike the flame a sudden heat and roar of fire had you taking a step back. Was it done?

The original plan was to light it from the back and subtly get away together but the others weren’t around. Something must have gone wrong. 

Not caring about what would happen to you your legs were soon carrying you around the side of the building. The air was thick and tasted like fumes, your eyes went wide as you looked up to see Ali coming towards you supporting his father’s weight.

You continued towards them but stopped a short distance away, not sure of Ali’s motives. “Are you guys?” That’s when you noticed how Hassan was clutching his side.

“Y/N.” Hassan breathed out, his eyes softened and he let out a sigh of relief as he saw you.

“He was shot.” his sons words fell out of this mouth. “I don’t want him to become one of us. He doesn’t deserve it.” Ali shook his head and you could see the regret and fear in his eyes.

You nodded and closed the gap, You looped your arm around Hassan to take Ali’s place. You knew the boy wasn’t going to hurt either of you.

 “I only have until sunrise.” the words were spoken fast, you looked towards the boy and could see the worry in his eyes.

“We know” you whispered. Hassan turned his head and locked his eyes with yours, you could see how full of sadness they were.

There was a silent discussion between the three of you to make the next decision. Propping Hassan up against a tree you took a look at the gunshot wound as Ali watched. 

The wound was red with blood but relatively clean and looked to be a through and through on a rather fleshy part, a lucky position to be shot. You weren’t an expert at first aid but you knew enough to know that he’d live as long as it was kept clean and pressure on it was maintained.

You pulled the backpack off your back and began to rummage through it. As a team you’d gathered any supplies you could find before the town went up in flames. It didn’t take you long to pull out the first aid supplies you’d need.

“This is going to hurt.” you warned the man.

“I can handle it.” his eyes sparkled as he gave you a weak smile.

Taking a damp piece of gauze you began to dab the wound gently and the man let out a yelp. Ali was at his side in seconds and offered his hand to his father. The love between the two of them overwhelming and you felt tears well in your eyes at what was soon to happen.

You made quick work of cleaning and wrapping up the wound tightly before helping the man stand back up and supporting his weight again so you could make a move on. 

Looking up at the sky you could see it changing colour, a warning of the sunrise about to come.

The three of you had soon made it to the beach. Hassan practically flopped into the sand. The three of you sat side by side for a second just in the presence of each other you breathed in the sea air and watched the familiar waves before you.

Seeing the sky change colour even more you began to stand “I’ll give the two of you some space.”

A pressure on your wrist had you stopping. “You can stay.”

Hassan’s eyes were filled with sadness and pleading, you could almost sense that he wanted someone there with him after what was to come. You looked towards his son to make sure he was ok with it as well, the boy’s nod had you taking your seat in coarse the sand again.

There was another silent exchange of words beside you between the two men. You stared at the sunset and could see movement beside you out of the corner of your eye.

Turning your head the sight beside you had the tears welling up in your eyes, they were praying. Looking forward to the sun again you let the tears fall and you wiped them away with the back of your hand.

You’d become close to the sheriff over the past couple of months since you’d been here and you knew just how much he loved his son. Ali was his everything. You hadn’t got to know his son as well but you felt the sadness of losing him. 

Once the tears started they wouldn’t stop. The little island you’d originally hated had grown on you and had become something you loved. Everything was in ruins. You thought about what everything could have been if Mass hadn’t happened tonight. You thought about all of your friends who were dead or soon to be. 

More movement slightly further down the beach had you turning towards it. Focussing your eyes you could see Beverly watching Ali and Hassan praying for a second. You watched her actions and she was soon digging into the sand with her hands.

You could feel the sunrise coming. Taking one last look at Ali and Hassan you watched as the boy put his hand on his father. 

Hassan placed one of his hands on top of his sons and reached for your hand with the other one to create a chain between the three of you. Looking towards his son he let out a sob and you could see his body shaking with tears.

As the sun came up the boy burst into flames and was soon ash. The man let out a strangled cry before leaning forward into the ash of his son. Placing his hand in it he silently cried as he clung onto your hand. 

You don’t know how long the two of you were there. You’d ended up with your arms wrapped around the man as he cried into your shoulder and you consoled him.

He eventually pulled away when his sobs had subsided. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be.” 

“What now?” the two of you looked out onto the water.

“We get onto the second boat Warren said he’d leave us. It’s only small but with the two of us I think we’ll be ok.”

The man nodded “Do you think we’ll make it?”

“We have to try. We didn’t come this far to not make it. We can’t leave Warren and Leeza alone out there.”

“You’re right.” the man wiped at his face again. 

You gave the mans hand a reassuring squeeze and he gave you the weakest smile. He looked down at his son’s ashes for a second and began to make a hole in the ground. Moving to your knees you helped the man dig the hole. He gently pushed the remaining ashes into the hole and spoke some parting words and prayer as you both covered it over with sand.

Although, still obviously in pain Hassan had gathered more strength and was able to walk without your support, albeit slow, the two of you soon came across the last remaining boat.

“Have you ever been in a boat?” you asked as the two of you moved it to the shoreline

“Once or twice.” he admitted

You took off your backpack and placed it into the boat. Helping the injured man into it he went to sit down near the oars.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Y/N please let me.”

“You’re injured and I’m relatively uninjured so I’m not letting you.”

The man had no strength to argue and moved away, you allowed him to take a seat and get comfy before gently pushing the boat until it hit slightly deeper water and clambering inside. 

You began to row and gradually moved the boat pretty far away from the land.

“Look” 

You stopped rowing and turned, the island was all lit up with orange flames as it burnt. Your eyes didn’t linger for long, and you soon turned back to Hassan.

“Do you think anyone will believe us?”

The man thought it over in his head “Probably not.”

You nodded “I have to admit I barely believed it when Erin told me. Even before she told me I searched for every explanation possible for all of the miracles. At least Leeza’s and Warren’s blood should help support us”

“It’s one twisted story.” the two of you were silent again.

The island was long gone from view and that’s when Hassan broke the silence again. 

“Thank you Y/N.”

“There’s no need.”

“Without you I would still be on that island, maybe even dead.”

Letting go of the oars you leant forward and placed a hand on Hassan’s arm, his eyes came up to yours and you gave him a sad smile. Allowing the water to carry the boat you reached towards the backpack and opened it up. Pulling out a bottle of water you handed it to the man. You were unsure if you should say what you wanted to but after what’d happened, you really had nothing to lose.

“Without you, I would have given up hope entirely so it looks like we saved each other.”

Tag List: (open)

Midnight Mass:

Sheriff Hassan:

[royalsunshinehotel]

i have a request for Hassan if you’re taking them!! maybe it’s been a long ass day (as it always is in the crock pot), and he needs a bit of “stress relief” wink wink,,, basically just kinda rough and possessive,,, already on the floor thinking about it tbh😳

10:49PM (Sheriff Hassan x Fem!reader, 18+)

A/N: I looked up some halal sodas and Shasta was the first one that came up. Love me some Shasta. If this is incorrect, please let me know.

The schedule in Crockett was something Hassan had yet to get used to. As the Sheriff, his day would start at 4:00AM, and wrap up at 9:00PM, depending on if there'd been a kitten stuck in a tree that day or not. Not that he'd be trusted with that responsibility.

It was a massive culture shock coming from New York. Harsher than he'd like to admit. Being a native to the city, the sounds had become a part of his life, and he missed the noise.

It was stressful, and he felt shame for being stressed about how quiet Crockett was. That was supposed to be a good thing, and here he was, anxious that he couldn't hear a fire truck from 12 blocks away.

But, like most things in his life, there wasn't much to be done.

And it's not like the hours were bad. Hassan didn't mind a late night, but the general store was open until 11PM. This left whoever was working, alone for about two hours.

Now he knew that Morty, the owner of the store, and Annie Flynn were capable of handling themselves.

And then there's you.

Lovely, gracious, and alone for two hours. He didn't know you well enough to feel comfortable judging if you could "handle yourself" or not, but the idea of you walking home that late made his skin crawl. Even in a small town, there's always something hiding under a rock, waiting for a chance to strike. There's always something hiding in the dark, he thinks.

He thought about you a lot.

After praying with Ali, and making sure his son was set for bed, he headed out.

His commute is exactly a 6 minute drive, and he wonders as he sits in the car, if he's hiding in the dark. If he's the thing you should worry about.

Hassan's shoves the thought down, because of fucking course not. This is exactly why he couldn't stand the quiet, because you could hear yourself think, and he didn't want to do too much of that these days.

So, being the good detective he was, he looked over the facts

He thinks about how you greet him with a full smile every morning, and the small talk he's come to look forward to. You were one of the only people who did, and he was grateful.

"How are you?"

"Good, and you?"

"Ah, not so bad."

One of those days he was going to beat you to the punch and say "how are you?" first, but something told him you wouldn't accept that.

And there was that one time he walked into his office a few minutes late. Beverly Keane had stormed out of the general store, and Hassan waited a little longer in his car to avoid the town’s least favorite.

When he got in through the front door, he inhaled sharply. You were clearly in distress, eating some sour straws, sitting on the floor in the corner. The tears on your face spoke for themselves, as you mumbled, “How are you?” same as always.

;pAnnie came around, looking uncharacteristically ruffled.

“What happened?” He snapped, maybe a little too harshly. Annie bent down to sit with you, urging you to drink your water in the way only mothers do.

"oh, Bev was just being Bev, and things got a little heated." She tried to dismiss, voice an octave too high for it to be “Bev being Bev.”

“Fucking..xenophobic… cunt…fucker” You mumbled as you sipped on your water.

“What?” He asked, not sure he’d heard you right. Annie shooed him away, and he went, letting you recover from Beverly Keane at your own time unsupervised.

And the last piece of evidence he’d acquired was thin, circumstantial at best.

When Hassan first moved into his new office, the fridge from the previous, now deceased occupant had been filled with soda.

Not just any soda. Sprite, and Shasta.

Now Hassan hadn’t had soda in years, but he found it a little bit odd that two of the few Halal brands of soda were ready and waiting for him in his workplace.

He dismissed it then, it’s just a coincidence.

Except he’d been wrong, it was you.

The tall man blinks, and frees himself from that train of thought, remembering what exactly he was there to do.

The yellow lights of the general store were still blazing against the cold blue of the night, and he could see you resting against the cash register, reading your book.

Stop staring, he told himself, before taking a breath, and getting out of his car. He’s not going to think about the way you perked up when you saw him. He was probably imagining it anyway.

“Hey!” You greeted, just as chipper as you’d been that morning. He nods to you as a greeting, and gets to the point.

“How about a french exit?” You blink, he sounds breathless, which wasn’t a tone you’d heard on him before.

“What would the town think if I shirk my duties?” You bat your eyes in an attempt to

“They’ll say anyone buying candy past 10pm is a degenerate,” replies Hassan, completely deadpan. You snort.

“Maybe they’ll make an ordinance about it!” You exclaim, not putting it past Beverly Keane to do such a thing.

The two of you laugh for a moment, when Hassan gets to his point.

“Seriously, how about I drive you home?”

The mere thought of the two of you alone in his car sent a lovely prickle down your spine.

“Yeah…Yeah I’ll lock up, I'll just be a minute.” Hassan smiles at you, and waits on the porch. You scramble to lock everything and turn off all the lights while not making a sound he could detect from outside.

Taking a deep breath, you open the front door to the general store, and lock it behind you, walking in sync with Hassan, letting him open his car door for you. He waits an extra second to make sure your long sweater doesn’t get caught in the door, before shutting it behind you.

You start to hear your heart pound in your ears, as Hassan comes around and gets in the driver's seat.

“10 whole minutes early, how do you feel?”

“Like the law is a bad influence,” you snipe back, feeling a smile bubble to the surface.

“They blame me for the bad weather, I’ll take this too.” He jokes.

“Where do you live?” Asks Hassan, trying to seem calm, but he’s watching every move you make like he’s trying to memorize it.

“Yellow house on Apricot Drive. You’ve passed it before.” Hassan froze for a moment, thinking about how it must have looked. But it wasn’t as if he waited outside your house to see you, he just noticed that was somewhere you lived. It was something he was aware of. A fact.

“It’s a small town ” You shrug it off, letting him breathe again.

“Right.”

Hassan has a small smile on his face while he starts the car, driving a little bit slower than he normally would.

The ride itself is silent, and you have to be proud of yourself that you didn’t reach over and sink your teeth into him. Everything in this car is just so Hassan, how could you sit here and act normal?

“So, how are you adjusting?” You start, trying to ignore the fact that this car was so him. Clean, organized, and somehow comfortable and warm. There’s a scent in the air that you couldn’t quite place, but it was sweet somehow.

“Six months is a long time.” You continue, trying to keep your typical tone, as if you weren’t overwhelmed.

“It’s…alright.” He replies, wondering if you notice exactly how tightly he’s gripping the wheel.

“Yeah, at least we have fish though.”

“I hate fish,” hums your driver, completely deadpan.

You break into a cackle, “oh my god! What are you doing here?” You can clearly see a flash of teeth in the dark

Hassan only sighs, before taking the final turn onto your street, pulling up to the curb and turning off the car. You’re not sure how long the two of you sit there, in a comfortable silence you can only find after 8pm.

“We need to talk more.” You state, eyes on your hands.

“We do.”

“I like talking to you.”

“Same here, really.”

“Hassan?”

“Hm?”

“Would you like some coffee?” You question, tone light.

Your body doesn’t react quick enough, but Hassan’s hand is warm against your cheek, tilting your face towards his.

Things seem to move in slow motion, as you feel a soft brush of his lips against yours, the brief scratch of his beard making goosebumps break out under your sweater.

And just as quickly as it happened, he’s pulled away.

“I…I’m-” He tries, dark eyes round, as if he was stunned at what he’d just done.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” You breathe, heart pounding in your ears.

Hassan isn’t quite sure where his mind went, but he follows you out of the car, up the stairs to your home. It looks prettier up close, he thinks.

You unlock your house, and Hassan exhales the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

The house is lovely, just like you, just like he pictured. And he’s here.

You take your shoes off, he follows suit. You take off your sweater, and Hassan takes off his jacket.

If he looks too closely at your shoulders, it might make him lightheaded, and he couldn’t do that right now.

He follows you to your kitchen, as you put a pod into your keurig, he hovers on the other end, leaning against a counter. You hover by the coffee maker, before turning around slowly and taking each other in.

He likes looking at you, he always has. You're looking right back, air in the kitchen starting to buzz.

You could collapse under the weight of his stare, and yet you don’t move.

“So.” He says.

“So.”

The keurig starts to hum, and you clear your throat, “Must be stressful, being here, dealing with everyone.”

“It can be, yeah.” says Hassan, softly.

You run a hand over his broad chest, to rest over his heart, “bet you could use some…relief.” Were you doing it? Were you actually going to say it?

“Oh really?” Hassan hoped to every higher power that he was able to keep his face neutral, and not express what he was actually feeling.

“Someone to take all that tension out on,” you continue, taking a step towards him.

“Are you sure about that?” He growls, making you shiver.

In a moment he’s got his hands around your waist, your back to his chest.

He’s stronger than you, taller than you, and you're trapped. You let out a small whimper, wriggling weakly.

“You wanna be my toy? Something I can play with to work out all this stress?” he snarls into your ear ,”Say it.”

You give him nothing, breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth.

“Don’t be coy with me now, tell me how you feel.” You feel Hassan push his face into your hair, inhaling deeply, while he waits.

“I’d like to be your toy. Or your anything…” You answer honestly.

“You wanna be mine? Want me to stake my fucking claim?” Hassan moves his face into the crook of your neck, the scratch of his beard masks the faint tug of his teeth.

“Yes please.” You stick out your bottom lip, trying to sound pitiful, and he laughs faintly.

“Okay honey, okay.” Hassan grips your waist tighter, just for a moment, and you want to melt into him.

“I sleep over in there”, you whisper, pointing down a short hallway to your bedroom. You’d jump on him if your couch had been a little longer, but your bed was a better bet for his comfort.

He’s right behind you, taking wide steps, not letting his hand stray from your back. You turn around, and get on your tiptoes to put your mouth back on his, and you keep him there.

Until you hear a low growl, “Do you like this dress?” asks Hassan, not taking his mouth from yours for more than a second.

“Yes.” You squeak, and Hassan hums in appreciation, his hands wandering down to the hem of your dress, tugging it up over your head. You shiver, falling right back into his mouth, your favorite dress tossed off to the side.

“Do you like these tights?” He questions, his hands roaming down and squeezing the globes of your ass.

“No.” You practically whisper, holding Hassan’s gaze as he tears your tights, almost in half, but not quite.

“I like these.” He rumbles, running large hands over your chest, pausing to unclasp your bra.

Hassan knew that his poker face failed him, and you saw his expression flicker. His dark, hungry eyes lit up the moment he saw your chest. He hovers for a moment, running his thumbs over your peaks, as you bite down on your lower lip.

Hassan runs his hands down,

“Lean back.” orders Hassan, and you do, shivering with anticipation. Your eyes go to your ceiling, reflecting on the various times you’d fucked yourself to the idea of him, for a moment, you wish you could tell him, but his mouth is on your clit so quickly, the thoughts melt away.

“Fuck,” you shout, as the Sheriff doesn’t waste time, licking and sucking in his own rhythm, quick, but not quick enough.

The sounds are obscene, and he moves your hand to hold on to his peppered hair. You looked so pretty with your eyes screwed shut, absolutely soaked for him.

“Fucking sweet,” You hear, muffled between your thighs.

You huff, as he knew exactly what he was doing. The pattern he’d established was lovely, but it was getting you to an edge. You were walking a tightrope and he wouldn’t let you fall.

Typical.

“Daddy ‘M-” You are cut off as you feel him hook a finger inside your wet heat. He groans against your clit, “Tightly wound. Alright.” He almost laughs as he works you loose, you’re still walking the tightrope.

“Hold on baby, open up for me.” He tries to comfort you, toying with that one spongy spot that made you see stars. Hassan’s thick fingers would reach it, press it, but never for long enough. He’s cruel.

“I’m gonna c-” you try, but Hassan’s not completely evil, he presses down on your stomach, and enjoys the show.

You twist, only truly aware of Hassan’s hands digging into your thighs, keeping you in place.

Things seem dim, distant for a moment, before Hassan crawls up for a kiss. He hovers above you for a moment while your breathing steadies.

He’s watching closely, before putting your head on his arm, turning you only to your side. The Sheriff pushes your hair out of your eyes, and you could feel yourself clench down around nothing.

Fuck.

You’re boneless, he’s panting, and everything is beautiful.

But it’s not enough. With all of your strength, you sit up.

“Fair’s fair.” You try, wobbly, as you try to reach down for his belt, your mouth wet. Your face twists into a pout as Hassan catches your wrists in his hands.

“Later, I’m gonna fuck you now.” He replies bluntly, pushing his face into your palms. The scratch of his beard in your hands almost distracts you from the words.

“Oh,” You’re struck with a pleasant chill, remembering bed with a gorgeous man who looked as if he wanted to swallow you whole.

“Yeah, oh.” He mocks lightly, giving you a soft kiss.

“Can you take this off?” You give him the biggest puppy dog eyes, tugging at his denim shirt.

“What’s the magic word?” He teases, watching you intently.

“Please, daddy.” Hassan hopes you don’t notice how his breath catches. You do, but what’s there to say?

“Daddy, huh?” He grins, getting up off the bed to take off his

“Shut up.” You smack his shoulder playfully, watching Hassan shrug out of his white undershirt.

Fuck, he’s hypnotizing, you could stare at him all day. You’re in a stupor, until he undoes his belt and frees his erection.

“Hassan-” it’s too big, it won’t fit.

But the words don’t come, his mouth is on yours, and everything feels so certain. You let out a small whine, feeling him poke at your folds. His body weight keeps you pinned as you wriggle and squirm in his grasp. “Don’t run, you can take it.” He’s got you pinned with seemingly no effort. Tears spring to your eyes as he steadily spears himself into you. Your vision blurs as Hassan takes you over.

“God, you fit me just right.” You hear faintly in your ear, as you focus on breathing. You scramble to make a sentence, a coherent thought, anything, but nothing comes to mind. It’s just the two of you. He’s still, and you’ll thank every higher power for that.

But at the worst possible time, a thought comes. Your hand roams over your breast, pinching it down to your stomach.

“I-I can feel you here!” You exclaim, dumbly putting your hand on your lower belly, pointing out a lump. It’s him.

“Fuck.” He snaps, as you blink at him, vacant. Hassan shifts for a moment, putting one leg over his shoulder, and the other follows suit.

And he begins.

His pace is steady, but hard enough to be considered unforgiving. It’s all a haze to you, the lump in your stomach, the slapping of skin, Hassan giving your ass a smack every time your eyes would roll.

“Can’t believe you’ve been such a slut. This whole time.” The words should sting but they don’t, not when he says them.

“I’m-” Hassan’s pace stutters, as you feel a bolt of lightning strike through you, you’re not sure if you're real anymore. You clench down around him suddenly, taking him down with you. He pushes his face into your neck, panting, and there’s never been a sound more lovely.

You register his heat just a moment after he falls apart on top of you, a lovely, liquid heat, hitting deeper than anyone had before.

The sheriff’s words are faint, “Good job baby,” you’re too weak to squirm away, as you pulse. “Milk this cock like it's yours, that’s it.” Hassan takes the opportunity to bite a mark into your smooth neck, earning a squeak.

The haze settles, only slightly, as you swear you could hear two hearts beating. The blankets, pushed off your bed, meant he was your only warmth.

A metaphor for your stupid small-town existence.

The feral feeling of his chest, bare against yours, made you feel as if you should simply put him back, but someone needs to be able to speak for that to happen.

“I think Daddy’s pussy is all filled up, do you feel it?” You feel down between your legs, face heating at the absolute mess he’d made of you.

“Yes, Daddy.” I want to stay like this.

He smiles, pressing a kiss into your shoulder, “good girl.”

“Does my toy need to rest now?” His voice is smooth as honey in your ear, hands everywhere, settling on your chest, squeezing, pinching at your nipples.

It’s almost too much.

“Yes, please.” You eek out, eyelids getting heavy. Your body is humming, but at the last second Hassan grabs your jaw and pulls your face close to his own.

“If if I catch wind of you fucking anyone else, there will be hell to pay. This is my fucking pussy understand?” You whine as a response, “I get to use this and this, only me.”

Only me.

Your partner traces down in between your legs, tapping on your sensitive clit twice, relishing how it made your whole body twitch.

But it’s not enough, he collects his cum on his thick fingers, and pushes it back into you. It takes you a moment to react as he does it again.

Hassan smiles as you let out a pathetic little cry, eyes getting watery. You couldn’t squirm away if you wanted to. Hassan could do whatever he wanted with you, and your cock-drunk mind decides that you're fine with that.

Suddenly it’s cold.

You don’t have the energy to open your eyes fully, but something was wrong. He can’t pull away! He can’t leave!

But he’s back, quickly, taking a warm towel between your legs, pressing on his beard burn, just to make you twitch.

And he’s back in bed, long arms pulling you back into him.

He’s staying, he’s staying the night.

Your body instinctively grinds back into his, making his breath catch as you persist.

“Miss me already, hm?” You feel a warm hand rest itself on your thigh.

“Mhmm.” You nod.

“Wanna keep me warm, baby?” The question sounded so sweet and sincere, you almost would have forgotten he’d just taken you apart moments ago.

“Yes, please.”

And Hassan doesn’t waste time.

You let out a filthy moan as Hassan parts your legs slightly, and pushes himself back inside you. Blunt, deep, warm. He hums a little bit, getting to feel exactly how he stretched you out, as he grips you, feeling you start to squirm with sensitivity. That would just be too bad.

Toy’s don’t get sensitive, they’re made to be used. Over and over.

“It’s your pussy daddy. Whenever you want.” In your mind, you dream about Hassan playing with your body while you sleep, if he wants, but you can’t get that across. Your vocabulary is now extremely limited. But how lovely would it be, to be woken up by his unrelenting force.

“You shouldn't say things like that, I might get greedy.” Hassan attempted to sound calm like he wasn’t going to dream of keeping you in bed, holding your hips against his and fucking you until you forgot the year. You’re so pretty in this dream, starry-eyed, and limp, letting him play with you however he wanted.

Maybe tomorrow, he’d have to ask first.

As a well-earned sleep took you, Hassan was left alone with his thoughts, he’d think about before he sleeps is how he didn’t have a leg to stand on. He’s a father, a widow, a disgraced NYPD detective, what did he have that you could want?

Could he ask you to go steady? Do people still do that?

Before your mind had been cleared, you wanted to tell him that tonight was enough. Whatever this evening was didn’t have to go any farther than he wanted it to.

But it’s alright, you two have time.

[grampstaxidermy87]

! Welcome to Gramps Blog!

(Sorry loves, had an issue with the last account, second times a charm!)

-Hey guys gals and non-binary pals! You can call me grandpa, I’m just a 21-year- old horror fan who loves Vampires,sci-fi, and anything 80’s.

What I’ll do: Smut/Fluff/Angst/Polyamory

Male!reader/fem!reader/gn!reader/child!reader/etc.

Here’s the fandoms I write for:

Twilight\Volturi

(Poly/platonic/separate)

-Aro Volturi

-Marcus Volturi

-Caius Volturi

-Demetri Volturi

-Felix Volturi

-Jane and Alec (platonic only!)

-Suplicia Volturi

-Athenadora Volturi

The Lost Boys 1987

(Platonic/Poly/separate)

-David

-Paul

-Dwayne

-Marko

-Max

-Lucy Emerson

-Sam Emerson

Midnight Mass

(Platonic/Poly/separate)

-Monsignor Pruitt/Father Paul

-Sheriff Hassan El Shabazz

Stranger Things

(Platonic/Poly/separate)

-Billy Hargrove

-Eddie Munson

-Steve Harrington

-Jim Hopper

-Joyce Byers

-Murray Bauman

-Nancy Wheeler

-Robin Buckley

-Karen Wheeler

Last updated: 7/19/22

[heaux-burrow]

bury me

fandon: midnight mass pairing: hassan el-shabazz x OFC reader warnings: nsft / smut / size difference kink / age difference kink (18+ OFC) summary: Graveyards aren’t really supposed to be a meetcute. But there he was, all 6’4” and crying silently into a bouquet of white roses. [completed] ***please don't interact if you're under 18 thank you***

Playlist

You’d been visiting your dad. You really hadn’t known him. Not really. You were born just before 9/11. He’d only held you for two weeks before the towers fell.

Still, you came here to talk to the man often enough that you felt close to him. The idea that graveyards were meant to be creepy had always confused you. The same warmth some kids felt when they remembered their dad teaching them to ride a bike, you felt here.

Crossing the grass, you wander over to him. Offer up some tissues from your purse.

His voice is wet with tears as he thanks you. He tells you about his wife and pulls you in for a hug when you tell him your dad’s badge number. Turns out, they would’ve served in the same precinct if the timing had been right. Ironic, how the thing that ended your father’s career is what kick started his.

He tells you his son is with his aunt for the weekend, happily letting his brain fry over a PS4 console. You laugh and invite him over for coffee.

The sky is dark by the time you reach your loft. Wind blustering up in angry gusts against your windows. The Nor’easter every weather forecaster has been excited about for the last three days is finally delivering on its promise.

You’re careful with the coffee grounds as you measure out a little more than necessary. Your mother always taught you to make coffee strong.

After hanging up his coat and setting his boots by the door, Hassan wanders into the kitchen. His hand nearly covers the breadth of your slender back as he brushes it down your spine. Just for a moment. Almost gentlemanly. Almost hungry for more.

Your big brown eyes flicker to his as he leans back against your counter, facing you. Outside the rain starts to fall in heavy sheets. You know it would make more sense to just flip the lights on. Instead, you decide to light a few candles.

Once you push start, the scent of coffee grounds mingles with the toasted vanilla of your candles and the whole apartment starts to smell like a café.

Wordlessly, you close the space between you both. With your boots by the door, he towers over your short frame. Not at all threatening. More like an old oak tree cradling you protectively in its shadow.

You brush one small hand over the worn down flannel covering his ribs as if he’s yours to touch. With your heart pounding so loud in your chest, you think he must be able to hear it too.

Fitting his hands to the curve of your lower back, Hassan tugs you flush against his warm body. His breath tickles as his nose skims across your forehead. Then buries into your mass of curls.

His lungs expand around a deep breath as he drinks in the notes of your perfume. Chestnut and cinnamon and burning wood.

“Hmm,” He muses, relaxing back against the counter. “You smell even better than the candles.”

A smile tugs at your mouth, your head already dizzy. As you lean up on your toes and curl your fingers into the open collar of his flannel, you feel his grip fist around your sweater. The kiss is soft at first. Then hungry. Wanting.

The apartment is tiny and he shuffles you backwards easily until your legs hit the mattress and you’re both laying diagonally across the blankets.

Carefully, your legs curl around his hips. Fingers lose themselves in his thick hair. You gotta admit, something about the grey streaks you find there make your stomach tighten with excitement. Knowing he’s so much older than you, being able to feel how patient and experienced he is in every kiss. All of it makes you ache, right down to the marrow in your bones.

Neither of you in much of a rush, you take your time. Savor the feeling of each other’s bodies so close. The weight of him on top of you. The heat that’s only growing. Every little brush of friction and massaging caress of your tongues.

Slowly, you undo the buttons of his flannel and help get the material untucked from his jeans. Your hands drag up his chest, squeezing his shoulders before feeling over them, pushing the flannel away in the process.

Distracted by your hands, Hassan nuzzles along the sensitive skin of your neck. Burrows his face in the pocket of heat between your skin and the thick curls that blanket it. The way his mouth latches against your neck, sucking gently, leaving a trail of light marks, draws a gasp from your lungs. Makes your hips tilt and your spine arch in pleasure.

“Ohhh… mmhmm…” Nodding your encouragement, you squirm under him. Shifting enough to help him get your body free of the turtleneck sweater and tartan miniskirt you’d been wearing.

To do so, he must untangle your legs from around his middle. But he doesn’t mind, because it gives him the pleasure of looking you over. Soaking in every perfect inch of you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful it hurts…” The words come mumbled against your lips, because he can’t really stay away from you for that long.

His jeans come next and you can’t help yourself from retaliating after all his teasing. Though only in part for revenge. Curiosity is ravaging your mind. And it does not go unrewarded.

Caressing over the bulge in his boxer briefs, you feel a moan of surprise slip out of your throat. God, he’s so thick. You didn’t even know a man could be made so thick. You know you’ve never felt anything like that… but now you really want to. Need to.

Fingers brushing down his muscular chest, you push gently at his briefs. Take him in your hand. And the sounds he makes as you touch him. The way he trembles as if he’d forgotten what it was to be held.

His big brown eyes find yours in the semi dark of your room, one forearm resting on the bed as you start to guide him. The vulnerable hitches of his breath match the softness in his eyes as his knuckles brush a lock of hair from off your cheek. Lips hovering near yours, he’s not quite kissing you. But somehow sharing the same heavy, erratic breathing feels even more intimate. Reaching down, Hassan uses his free hand to tug your thigh up around his waist so you have proper leverage.

Though after a few moments of struggling, he arches an eyebrow at you.

"You've done this before, right?" Nose knocking yours gently, he flashes you a playful smirk.

Sighing in defeat, you roll your eyes and nudge at his shoulder once he's released from your grasp.

"Not with someone as..." A blush darkens your skin and you bite your lip. The twitch that draws out of his cock isn't lost on you, though you refrain from comment. A shy sort of hush falls over your voice as if you're scared of being caught. "As big as you."

Brows lifting, his head quirks. Those weren't the words he was expecting. But he's more than happy to see your needs met. If he's honest... he really enjoys the thought of guiding you a bit. Of taking this slower than a random hook-up might normally afford.

Dropping a soft kiss to your forehead, he nuzzles your skin. Reaches between the two of you to grip your wrist and press it back into the sheets beside your head.

"I'm gunna take care'f you darlin', hmm?"

Letting go of your hand, his touch travels south, knuckles caressing the soft skin just above your folds. A gasp seizes your throat as he feels over your entrance, teasing against it. Then he’s spreading your slick heat around and the sudden friction against your clit makes your fingers fist around the blankets.

“Ahhh…” Crying out softly, you grasp at his bicep. His eyes stay fixed to your every reaction, savoring each shudder and little moan. It makes his insides burn to know he’s the reason you’re coming undone.

Purring softly, you shift into his touch, chasing the friction, desperate for more. And maybe it’s been a while for him (you’d clocked the year of death on that headstone pretty easily), but his skill still rivals all the university boys your own age that have tried in vain to please you. God, none of them even come close.

His mouth catches yours just as he’s bringing you to the edge, and your cries are muffled into a firm, passionate kiss. The wet heat of your cum pools around his fingers and he pulls away from your kiss only to taste you. The sight of his thick fingers, glistening with your pleasure is enough to make your toes curl. But then he’s sucking the sticky sweetness off as if it's honey and wasting any would be a criminal offense. And you tremble just a bit watching him, only half from the aftershocks.

With his free hand, he smooths your hair back from your face. Drops a few soft kisses across your forehead and temple and cheek.

“Good girl…” The low rumble of his voice is enough to make you needy all over again, despite the satisfaction he’s already given you.

His touch caressing lower again, the light brush of his fingers around your neck tickles. Still covered in the lace of your bra, he gives your breasts a gentle squeeze. Feeling around along your slender back, Hassan unsnaps the material easily and helps you toss it away. Something about the heat of his bare chest to yours feels primal. Makes you almost feral as he kisses you again.

“Take a deep breath for me, baby girl.” He watches you carefully, nodding when you follow orders promptly.

Slowly, two fingers press inside you. Deeper. Deeper. And deeper still. When he’s buried to his knuckles, you feel his fingers curl just enough to stretch you a bit. In so doing a gentle pressure finds your g-spot and your chest caves hard in response.

“Holy...fuck… just like that…” Head pressing back into the mattress, you can’t help squirming under him. The pleasure is so fucking overwhelming that no matter how badly you want to keep looking up at his perfect face, you can’t stop your eyes rolling back. When his thick fingers start a slow but firm rhythm, you feel your thighs begin to tremble in seconds. Fucking hell, he knows what he’s doing.

“S’that good, baby girl?” Free hand sliding into your curls, he cradles your head to his shoulder. Tips his own enough so you can feel his breath tickling over the shell of your ear. “S’that what you need?”

Arms curling up around him, your fingers press into the muscle of his strong back until your nails go white.

“Yes...fuck, yes...don’t stop…”

You can feel the smirk of satisfaction on his lips as he nips at your earlobe. His fingers thrust a bit firmer, a bit faster. And your cries turn to guttural moans. Your mind goes blurry at the edges, everything melting into a searing white heat. Even in this foggy state of mind, it’s not lost on you that you’re so wet now the sheets are a mess. That you’ve completely soaked his fingers. But he seems to enjoy it, so you let yourself enjoy it too.

Thrusting his fingers harder, you nearly scream as the pressure to your g-spot sends your whole body into shivers.

“Right there, right there....don’t stop!” Your pleas fall desperate and breathless. And in vain.

Just before you can finish, Hassan pulls his fingers free. A wicked smile pulls at his mouth the second you start keening for more.

“Like a hungry little kitten you are, hmm?” Nuzzling between your eyes, he drops a kiss there. Grips himself and brushes his cock through your now drenched folds. “So greedy, baby girl…”

You nod eagerly in agreement, pupils blown wide with an insatiable feral need.

“Mmhmm… fuck, please?”

“You ready for all of this now, baby girl? Did we get you worked up just right?”

“Yes...fucking yes...I need you. I’m ready and I fucking need you. Please?” God, you’re practically in tears and it’s so pathetic and you can tell you can just tell he’s enjoying being the one to undo you so completely.

Merely for the sake of torturing you, Hassan hovers over you a few seconds longer. Then without a word of warning, pushes inside. Slowly but all at once. Eyes rolling back hard, you have to bite his shoulder just to muffle the scream of blinding pleasure that follows.

His own groans run deep through his chest and you can feel him shudder in your arms.

“How are you so...tight? ...Ahh…”

For a moment, you’re both still. Just trying to catch your breath. Trying to adjust to one another. Then, you guide him down into a deep kiss, rolling your hips up against his own. He gasps at the sudden pleasure, practically purring as you do it again. Grasping one of your wrists, Hassan presses your hand back into the bed. Pins you down with a roll of his own hips.

From there, it’s almost a competition. Both of you grinding and working the other over, breathless from your attempts. Growling as he starts to thrust, you drag the nails of your free hand firmly down his back. Savoring the hiss that he gives up in return.

His mouth latches to your throat in retaliation, eager to leave marks across your soft skin. Imagining the boys that must check you out all across New York, his toes curl at the thought of them seeing the bruises left across your neck. At anyone backing off, assuming you must be taken. And he knows he can’t really claim you. At least, not this soon. But he likes the thought of trying that feeling on anyway. The feeling of being selfish with you, of having you all to himself.

Teeth dragging across his shoulder, you try to muffle the cries as he thrusts harder. Your whole body is shaking as he bottoms out inside of you, over and over again. Jesus Christ, you’ve never been filled up so full before. Taking him once would’ve been enough to ruin you for all other men. But to take thrust after thrust like this...the blinding pleasure of it is relentless.

“I’m gunna finish inside of you, baby girl.” He growls in your ear, the words a warning, not a request. And honestly, you’d forgotten to even mention protection before this moment. And you know this is fucking stupid, because you don’t really sleep around ever so why would you bother with contraceptives? But you think you might cry if he were to pull out.

Nodding quickly, you pull back to find his eyes, wanting to watch him come. Stealing a breathy kiss or two, his hips give you a few more deep, rough thrusts. The explosion of ecstasy ripping open his insides leaves the look in his eyes so fucking weak. Between that vulnerability and the feeling of him filling you up with his seed, you have no hope of holding on.

Burying your face in the heat of his neck, you whimper and whine and claw at his skin hard enough to leave marks.

“Fuck!” The feeling of your orgasm squeezing him like a molten vice is nearly enough to make him come a second time.

Still shaking, he rolls onto his back. The soft groan that follows tells you his spine and arms must be aching just as badly as your thighs. But it’s a satisfying ache. One you hope doesn’t fade too soon.

His arms stay wrapped loose around you, keeping you cradled to his chest. Kissing softly through the beads of sweat along his shoulder, you nuzzle at him. Both of you are still trying to catch your breath, but you can’t help just wanting to touch him. Taste him for as long as he’ll let you. If he minds, he doesn’t say so. Just lays in the quiet with you, brushing his fingertips up your spine and down your arms like he’s trying to trace you into his memory.

You like that he doesn’t rush to scoot out from under you. That he doesn’t grab his clothes and mutter something about calling you when he doesn’t even have your number. He’s nothing at all like the boys your age you’ve hooked up with who all took maybe five minutes and didn’t even ask if you’d finished.

Nosing into your curls, he takes a deep breath of your post-sex scent and smiles fondly to himself.

“I don’t wanna leave…”

“Well, you still haven’t had your coffee…” Resting your chin on his chest, you give him a mischievous smile.

“Coffee sounds...nice.” He eyes you as if he’s not talking about coffee at all. "Cream...lots of sugar..."

“Mmhmmm…” Nodding in agreement, you feel a grin take over your face as you lean up enough to catch his mouth in a soft, slow kiss. Somehow the tenderness there is just as intense as any bitemark or scratch you exchanged while he was fucking you senseless.