#rahul kohli smut

[royalsunshinehotel]

Rahul Kohli's Master list

GIF by blueryley

Ravi Chakrabarti (iZombie, 2015-2019)

NSFW Alphabet

GIF by patrick-stewart

Owen Sharma (The Haunting of Bly Manor, 2021)

Jumpstarted (18+): What you're looking for has been here the whole time!

GIF by chellestrash

Sheriff Hassan El-Shabbaz (Midnight Mass, 2022)

NSFW ALPHABET

SFW ALPHABET

Right On Time (somewhat a series)

4:58AM : Hassan picks you up from the ferry and drives you home.

7:45 AM (18+): The Sheriff is good at keeping his word.

8:30AM (18+): Hassan has some thoughts during your weekly meeting

8:49AM: You didn’t show up for your weekly appointment, and Hassan does a “wellness check”

7:13PM: Hassan just needs to ask you something really quick

10:49PM (18+): Your working late and Hassan doesn’t care for it.

GIF by wiha-jun

Napoleon Usher (The Fall of the House of Usher, 2023)

NSFW Alphabet

The Smallest Man In The World

Rahul Kohli Preferences (Starring Owen, Ravi, and Hassan)

Dynamics: “I’m rambling again, aren’t I?”// You Had a Nightmare //You Sprained Your Ankle// He’s Sick // You’re Not Friends With Your // How Are They With Kids? //Being a Dad// “You Changed Your Hair!” // How He Wins You Back

Details: Birthdays// Terms of Endearment // How They Nap // How They Fight // Street Smarts! //

Milestones: Meet Cute // Your First Date // First “I Love You” // You’re Pregnant // Your Wedding Day

Holidays: New Year’s Eve // Valentine’s Day// Pride // Halloween// Thanksgiving // Christmas

NSFW: Blowjobs // Vibrators & Toys// Kinks // First Times // Domme

[thisoneisbatter]

Holy: Chapter Eight

This is a new fic that is completed but I think I’ll be rolling it out chapter by chapter because it is a long one. It’s brat tamer, jaded widower Sheriff Hassan in full effect. This fic does contain some very rough sex and consensual sexual violence in some chapters so please do not read if that is a trigger for you. Otherwise, please enjoy and leave feedback!

Holy

Chapter Eight

Word Count: 1k+

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Deep family secrets are finally revealed.

Hassan had promised to take the weekend to help Leslie go through her mother’s things. His intentions weren’t entirely altruistic. The state medical examiner hadn’t issued his report, but had said off the record that it definitely seemed like foul play. Unofficially, poisoning.

There wasn’t much evidence to collect in the guest room closet that could tie someone to Cindy’s murder, but maybe he could figure out what the hell was going on on the island and why someone would want to poison her to begin with.

“What’s in this box?” Hassan reached for a hat box at the top of closet. He’d been handing things down to Leslie, most of which she’d stuffed into a black trash bag. A stack of old National Geographics, a pair of dry rotten men’s penny loafers, exactly the types of things you’d expect to find. This box was different. It was leather and very old but well cared-for.

“Uhh, I think it’s like my adoption stuff.” She gestured to the bed where they’d been putting the things she wanted to keep; photo albums and a few of her mom’s old dresses. “It can just go over there.”

“Do you-can I look at it?” It felt wrong to ask. Something so incredibly personal. He was more prepared for her to say no than yes.

“It doesn’t have who my birth parents are or anything like that. Its just like, basic info.” She replied flippantly. “I’m going to take a couple of bags down to the trash. You can look at whatever. I don’t have, like, giant family secrets or whatever.” She shot him a mockingly crazy look, laughing a little at his interest.

Fifteen minutes later, when Leslie returned, Hassan was sitting in a chair by the window deeply engrossed in the papers he couldn’t even read. It was almost entirely in Romanian. A stack of handwritten notes, typewritten documents on impossibly thin paper, a photo of a crying baby wrapped in a threadbare blanket, and a maroon passport with a picture of a pale toddler in pigtails. The name was Lavinia Eder. It was Leslie.

“Your name is Lavinia?” He chuckled a bit.

“And your name is Hassan.” She pointed out the obvious with a smile.

“Why do you go by Leslie?” He couldn’t imagine calling her anything else.

“Lavinia sounds like an 80 year old woman with a hunch back selling potatoes. Not very in line with my personality.” It amazed him how little she seemed to care about her personal history. Maybe it was something she had already worked her way through earlier in her life, but it was surprising to him nonetheless.

“Can you read Romanian?” He asked, lifting the papers to indicate that he needed translation.

“Kind of.” She took a seat on the floor next to him. “I can read these ones,” she pointed to the typewritten ones, “but not the cursive notes.” She took the first fragile page from the file, staring at it for a long time, trying to process the letters through the out of practice dictionary in her mind. “Uh, okay. It says infant girl,” she smiled at him and mouthed <i>me</i>, “found at Biserica Neagra, which I guess means like, Black Church or whatever, in Brasov. Weight 2.2 kilograms. Infant found beneath statue of Saint Petroclus. I don’t know if I’m saying that right. January 21st, 1998. And that’s my birthday.” She winked. His heart was breaking imagining this tiny newborn left in the cold, and she fucking winked. “And then it just says I was moved to an orphanage in Bucharest, which is where my parents adopted me.” She handed the page to him, taking the next one in the stack. “Okay, this one is their request to adopt me. It just has my mom and dad on here saying they want the infant found in Brasov on my birthday. My mom told me she read about it in the paper.” She took the next page. “This one is saying that I am Lavinia, I’m 2 years old, I weigh 11 kilograms, it says ‘no damage’ but I think that’s talking about, like, disabilities and stuff. I think it’s just info about me at the orphanage.” She takes another page. “Uh, yeah, okay. This one is saying I’m being adopted by my parents on October 6th, 2001. They get me, my clothes, my blanket, and some papers.” She shot him a final smile. “And that’s it. Nothing that interesting.”

Hassan let her brush it off while they finished clearing out the upstairs rooms her mom used for storage. They ate pizza on her bedroom floor and had kind of boring sex before he called it a night. His mind was elsewhere.

He’d taken pictures of the papers in the box, more specifically, the handwritten notes. He knew it was a violation of her privacy. She hadn’t given him permission. For all he knew, she was saying she couldn’t read them because she didn’t want to. He just had to know.

The next morning, Hassan went into work early. He jumped head first into a Google rabbit hole almost immediately. At face value, Leslie’s adoption was unusual, but not extraordinary. Cindy, a Romanian woman living in America, saw that a baby was abandoned at a church and wanted to adopt her. Stuff like that happens. Once he started adding it all up, the details spelled something bizarre.

“Hey, Les.” He caught her the second she sat down at her desk. It was 8:30. She was late, but he had way too much swimming in his mind to even address it. “Come over here. I need to talk to you about something.”

“What’s up?” She rolled her chair to his desk, looking only mildly concerned.

“I know you’re probably going to be upset, but I took some pictures of the papers in your adoption file and looked up what they said.” He braced for impact.

“Whoa, Hassan, what the fuck?” Her look of disgust stung a bit, but he’d expected it. It was a violation of her trust after all.

“It’s uhm,” He leaned forward, smoothed his hand down his beard, and rested it on Leslie’s knee. “You’ve got to know there’s something weird going on there.”

“What, then?” It was her turn to find him incredibly annoying. “My parents were weird people. What did you find?”

“Okay,” Hassan pulled out his notepad and leaned back in his chair, ready to elevator pitch Leslie’s own life story to her. “So you were found in the Black Church in Brasov. Brasov is in…Transylvania.” He drew the word out, cringing a bit at her mocking raised eyebrow. It sounded so stupid out loud. “The statue you were found under was Saint Petrolcus of Troye. I tried to look stuff up but came up really short until I realized that your family isn’t Catholic. They’re Eastern Orthodox, right?” She nodded, starting to slump in her chair. He was right. The story wasn’t as cut and dry as she’d believed her entire life. “In the Orthodox church, he is the Patron Saint of Demons and Fever, and his feast day is January 21st.”

“So what does that mean, then?” She looked confused, but mostly angry. Either this was the coincidence of a lifetime, or she’d been lied to at some point by her own family.

“I’m not done, Leslie.” He almost didn’t want to tell her the rest. It sounded crazy. It was crazy. “Do you know how hard it is to find some kind of translation for cursive Romanian? It took me all morning, but I did find it.” He put his phone on the desk at their side with the photos of the three notes pulled up. “These papers were stuffed into the blanket with you when you were left.” He pointed to the first one, which read <i> morții să rămână în pământ</i>, “’May the dead stay in the ground.’ Weird thing to put on a baby. The second one,” he pointed to one reading <i> salvatorul nostru de îngerii căzuți</i>, “Our savior from the fallen angels.” He flipped to the last photo, this one more of a scrawl than the rest, clearly written in haste. It said <i> ea va ști unde poate fi găsită lumina </i>. “She knows where the light can be found.”

Leslie had her head in her hands now, not looking at Hassan.

“Now, Leslie, I want to think that you definitely didn’t know what these notes said, because you’d have told me. And it could also just be the scribblings of a crazy person. I’d believe that last bit for sure if it wasn’t for an email I got from the old Sheriff before I ever even moved to the island. It said, that if I need anything, I should ask Leslie, because she knows where everything can be found. That’s a strange way to word that, right? ‘She knows where everything can be found.’ I did a little extra research on Sheriff Henry. He was pretty well loved by everyone, but one thing he wasn’t was a Catholic. And neither am I, and neither are you, or your mother.” He leaned as far forward as he could, taking her head in his hands and lifting her face to be just inches from his. “Tell me why there are suddenly missing people on an island that hasn’t had more than a fender bender in almost 100 years, a woman is screaming about demons and then suddenly turns up dead, and her daughter, a Sheriff’s Deputy, has a few too many weird connections to be just a fluke.”

Leslie was in tears. Gasping, inescapable tears. Hassan suddenly became hyper-aware of his grip on her and pulled his hand away.

“I don’t understand what you’re accusing me of.” She gulped down a sob. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything.” He sat back, taking stock of what exactly he was doing. “I guess I’m accusing everyone else of something. I just don’t know what yet.”

“So what, Hassan, demons came to Crockett and killed my mother?” She didn’t sound entirely sarcastic. Maybe it was a start. Maybe she’d believe him.

“No, I think that Bev Keane killed your mother.”

[krovscastlerpg]

Soren Mistry ("Aarav Surendra") | Villager | 37 | Human | Top

“Love is doing whatever is necessary.” 

On paper, Ravi Surendra’s early life is a simple one: an only child, a thoroughly average adolescence among the diaspora in Leicester, England, and a talent for the sciences that his family nurtured from a young age. That childhood intrigue carried the would-be doctor through long years of medical education to a promising research position in London where Ravi became the very definition of married to his job. He toiled alongside other professionals in the field of immunity and blood disorders, keeping up the steady business of preserving human lives that persisted alongside the presence of their undying ruling class. Vampires were not far removed from the lives of Ravi and his coworkers, but often primary investors in the business of medicine, reaping profits from the pockets of fragile humanity. Ravi discussed this contradiction often with his peers in their late nights at the lab and in 2017, to his parent’s despair, he left behind his established career to join a controversial biomedical team specializing in studying the inhuman. 

Their focus lay in the differences between supernaturals and humanity and how, if at all, they could be understood and documented in the rigid protocols of science. Ravi’s team considered if supernatural abilities could ever be adapted to improve human lives: testing blood and tissue, analyzing healing capacity, longevity, and countless other markers where mortals inevitably fell short. What if there was a universal vaccine for cancer in vampire blood? A way to tap into the genetic code of born werewolves to slow down aging, without the chaos of full moon transformations? What cure for degenerative diseases could be found in the marrow of a phoenix? It was risky, fringe research that only seemed to be allowed to persist because it so often failed. The Prometheus Group, as they called themselves, came under scrutiny countless times and would never have continued to function without private donors who considered their research worth funding – the Mistry-Van Wyck corporation among them.

An early donor to the Prometheus Group’s work, Soren Mistry was expected to follow in his father’s footsteps from his birth. Unlike the imagined Surendra household, middle class and tame, growing up the heir to the Mistry fortune was a strange combination of luxury and repression. Soren was a serious child, perceptive from a young age of the strange coldness between his parents and their expectations for their eldest: career, wife, children, legacy. His very real interest in the sciences was indulged so long as it served the family image, giving the Mistrys the pleasure of another doctor on the masthead, and so long as Soren understood his path would lead him to the boardroom in the end. 

For nearly all his life, he marched down the road that had been laid out for him in silent obedience, observing all the cracks in his family’s facade, rescuing his younger brother again and again from the hedonism that so clearly seemed to be Taliesin’s way of crying for help, or at least a brief escape. He eyed the moral decay within the company and gritted his teeth at his father’s greedy business partners, all too aware of the kind of associates a billionaire was required to maintain to hold their status. Soren was keen enough to name the faults but too afraid to challenge them, happy to talk a humanist agenda with his university friends and accept the privilege of the Mistry’s billionaire lifestyle in the same breath: the wardrobe and private jets and press attention, the endless open doors. Without Mistry-Van Wyck’s fortune, after all, Soren never would’ve had the pocket money that allowed him to shower five and six figures on the scientific organizations actually fulfilling the young man’s passion all over the world. 

So it was in 2015 that the Prometheus Group received nearly £400,000 in Mistry-Van Wyck’s name, an impulsive gift from a younger Soren freshly plucked from his postgraduate haven of white coats and research, strapped into a suit and choking down quarterly profit margin reports. His disillusionment was in full swing and the impassioned mission statement of the Group’s founders spoke to a deeper truth he had observed already at his father’s side: even a fortune meant nothing side by side with immortality. Soren had watched Viraj bow and scrape to vampires his whole childhood and realized as an adult that practice would extend to him as well. And were the Mistrys any better, ruling an industry fueled by extracting as much money as possible from every day people in exchange for putting a bandaid on the suffering of millions? 

Defection was never a real possibility in Soren’s mind but the idea lingered years after he had adapted to his role and the Prometheus Group had fallen out of the field’s spotlight after hitting dead end after dead end in their grand revolution for humankind. It might have remained there, had the scandal not thrown everything about the Mistry’s lives into sudden limbo. Soren himself underwent his fair share of questioning, though it became quickly apparent that the heir had been held at arm’s length when it came to the full extent of his father’s corruption. Even that he might have found possible to forgive, if not for their parents’ final capitulation to make the problem disappear. 

For years, Soren had found himself one step behind Taliesin, juggling his corporate world and picking up the pieces of his younger brother’s chaotic lifestyle, envying the other’s strange freedom and despairing at the same time over Taliesin’s treatment by tabloids and family both. He never considered that their parents’ apathy would go deep enough to abandon their youngest to the wolves, if it meant saving their own skins. Watching the hunters take Taliesin away, Soren realized all his good intentions meant nothing if he couldn’t be brave enough to protect the ones he loved. After Taliesin was gone, Soren lasted only a week in the role he had been playing his entire life. His work seemed impossible to pretend at, as was the idea that he could look at his parents with anything but disgust anymore. Arguments raged, accusations were leveled, more family secrets inevitably came to light and one night after an explosive confrontation with Viraj, Soren realized that if he didn’t leave, he would be the next person he lost all respect for. With a strange calm, the Mistry heir left his entire life behind in Mumbai with only one goal fixed in his mind: getting Taliesin back. 

The real Aarav Surendra was born in August of 2024, in a living room in London, from greased palms and pulled strings and countless favors from old friends in high places. A papertrail of legal documents to prove his existence, an impressive resume to get his foot in the door and just enough important people willing to talk about him over the phone as if he ever truly existed. While the Prometheus Group has since dwindled, their work continues wrought back down to basics, seeking out answers in places like Krovstown with access to just about every variation of supernatural yet known. A potent excuse for a dedicated researcher to travel to such a remote corner of the world and a fair trade for a humble clinic in dire need of professionals on staff in one of the few places on Earth where humans form the minority. Though Soren’s cover serves one purpose, there’s no denying that he now finds himself in a position he once might have dreamed of. He comes to Krovstown prepared to wait, but not entirely ready to face the answer to a new and crucial question: what kind of person could ‘Ravi’ be if he didn’t have to be Soren Mistry?

Positive Traits: Loyal, intelligent, pragmatic, well-mannered 

Negative Traits: Defensive, emotionally withdrawn, over-analytical, inflexible 

3 turn-ons: Teasing, dirty talk, competence 

3 turn-offs: Exhibitionism, degradation, being gossipy

[honeybeehimbo]

looking for new partners for m/f pairing's where i play the male. discord only. i love angst, smut and a little fluff (not too much fluff or it gets uninteresting for me, sorry!) plots under the read more, but open to other ideas too. some fandom ideas also under, hence the tags. like and i will dm you or dm me directly

best friend's older sister

muse a is a vampire/demon hunter, muse b is a monster with a soul/conscious. 

summer best friends

emergency contact

older muses reunite

something based off this, cue all the angst

ideas with my own muses

drew (kyle allen fc), a musician, reunites with the girl his songs are all about. can be another artist or someone outside the musician lifestyle.

chase (dylan minette fc), your typical geek boy, is hooking up with the popular girl, who wants to keep it a secret. but chase is catching feelings

rish (rahul kohli fc), er doctor/chief resident, your muse and rish dated in their 20s, but eventually broke up because they never saw each other because of rish's commitment to his work and inability to make time for the relationship. your muse suddenly pops up during the graveyard shift at the er with a twisted ankle (or something else!) rish is the doctor in charge and they catch up and old feelings resurface.

elias (andrew garfield fc), a magnificent fine artist needs a nude model, which is your muse, tensions arise and it's clear that they both want each other. but elias has commitment issues. (this one is really bare bones, but im open to adding details, maybe making it more forbidden, affair? age gap? im open to hearing ideas)

fandom wants

canon x canon only! i will not do canon x oc

marvel: peter parker (andrew garfield or tom holland) against any other female marvel character from any "universe"

glee: finn hudson against any female glee character, might also be willing to do crossover with other shows in the same realm.

ER: i will play pretty much any of the guys from the show er against any of the female ones.

one tree hill: jake/peyton, brooke/lucas, rachel/any male, mia/any male, alex/any male, i will not do any of the canon pairings that actually end up together, since i feel like that story has already been told.

sex education: any girl/otis

[icantmakeemstay-lol-blog]

Hi everyone! 😊

Looking for Beta Readers for my Hayden Christensen story called the Lifeline 😍

It’s about an original FMC who is an Italian global pop icon (think Taylor Swift-level fame), who falls for a 00s heartthrob who’s retreated to a farm in Ontario (who happens to be Hayden Christensen).

It started as a shameless Hayden Christensen fan fiction, but then the plot and the original characters kinda took a life of their own.

This story is for you if you're into...

🪴Cottagecore retirement fantasies

🌌 Star Wars lore, including inappropriate use of lightsabers

🎤 Pop culture lore

♟️ PR Dynamics

🫀 Suspence, a stalker plot line

🔥 Smut, with dom/sub undertones (maybe overtones)

✈️ International getaways on private jets (fictional, non polluting ones)

🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒 Side characters: Ewan McGregor, Damiano David from Måneskin, Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Mika, Lewis Capaldi, Rahul Kohli

If you’re interested here is the sign up form: https://forms.gle/eqkuKzCeEVUbQTt88

[aphrodisicc]

hi! i'm lexi. i'm thirty, live in the est timezone, and i love to write smut! below are a list of some of my kinks, limits, and faces i like. the bolded ones are my favorites! as far as muses go, i enjoy playing most dynamics (top/bottom, dom/sub/switch) and males and females. i don't have much experience writing nonbinary muses yet, but i would love to! i do try to tag triggering things, but this is in general a blog that will contain triggering and dark content. if you would like to rp, please feel free to dm me or ask for my discord!

kinks. abusive dynamics. aftercare. age gaps. anal. begging, bdsm. biting. body worship, bondage. cockwarming. dd/lg. dom/sub. dubcon. hair pulling. impact play. incest. marking. orgasm control/denial. power differences. praise. rough sex. spanking. taboo subjects. teasing. toys. 24/7. open to most.

limits.  anything involving minors. beastiality. blood play. needles. scat. vore.

favorite femme faces.  abigail cowen. adelaide kane. adeline rudolph. adria arjona. ana de armas. arden cho. ayça ayşin turan. brittany o’grady. camila mendes. chloe bennett. danielle campbell. demet özdemir. fivel stewart. florence pugh. gemma chan. haley lu richardson. hande erçel. jamie chung. kaylee bryant. kiana madeira. lindsey morgan. laura harrier. lily james. madison bailey. madelyn cline. margot robbie. melisa pamuk. mishti rahman. naomi scott. natasha liu bordizzo. olivia holt. shay mitchell. simone ashley. summer bishil. sydney park. sydney sweeney. zendaya. zion morena.

favorite masc faces.  aaron tveit. alex fitzalan. can yaman. charles melton. charles michael davis. charlie hunnam. chris evans. garrett hedlund. henry cavill. henry golding. froy gutierrez. jacob elordi. jeffrey dean morgan. jensen ackles. jesse williams. john boyega. jon bernthal. michael trevino. michiel huisman. oliver jackson cohen. oscar isaac. pedro pascal. peter gadiot. rahul kohli. regé-jean page. richard madden. scott eastwood. sean teale. sebastian stan. taylor zakhar perez. theo james. tom hardy. tom holland. tyler posey.

favorite nb faces.  liv hewson. lizeth selene. nico tortorella.

[findyourrp]

🌱— 30+ nb, looking for any 25+ writers and muses. looking for a relaxed roleplay, something where we can chat/text as our characters when we don't have time or energy to reply to a thread. actors, models, musicians etc as faceclaims. i have a handful of faceclaims i want to use, as well as a few oc's at the ready, but i'm also open to suggestions. a few i would like to write against would be: penn badgley, andre hamann, rahul kohli, kenta sakurai, ben barnes, olivia cooke, tati gabrielle, amita suman. open to whoever my partner wants to use as a faceclaim though and happy to write against most faceclaims. mxm or fxf, not all that interested in mxf. nsfw will be included, let's discuss limits whether smut or violence. i have a handful of vague pairings, but would love to hear any pairing or plot ideas you might be interested in too. let's think of something together.

.

[baronrps]

hey!! i’m kate, 29nb, est - and i’m currently looking for anyone 21+ who’d be interested in 1x1 discord rp ✨

i have my wonderful oc sage (myha’la herrold) who i created for the stranger things fandom and i’m looking to finally play her more! i’m happy to play her with canon characters from stranger things or other oc’s as well - in and outside of the fandom! currently my muse for her is leaning more towards mxf ships but i’m also open to fxf and i can double (though my male muse is low and rare.)

felicity sage thompson is a free-spirited stoner who believes in loving one another and isn’t one to pick fights - but she will protect those she cares about if it comes down to it. she’s outgoing and can be the life of the party when she wants to be. always seeking attention and validation from those around her. she’s typically non-mono which can usually be a strain when doing romantic plots. as open and kind as sage is, she has a hard time letting people in due to her past trauma and usually won’t stick around in one place for too long.

the backstory can depend on the au, so i can always go more into detail when plotting! that being said, mature themes are involved so you do have to be okay with that.

i am looking for short/quick replies and text rp rather than long or novella replies. i understand life comes first but i am looking for daily roleplay vs replies that may take longer to complete

for me writing smut is usually the easiest form of writing so i am interested in more smut heavy plots

characters from stranger things i’d pair with:

steve

eddie

billy

argyle

robin

heather

jonathan

gareth

face claim’s i’m open to pairing her with:

stranger things cast

dev patel

bill skarsgard

robert pattinson (would be interested in a the batman rp with my fc as selina kyle instead)

jacob elordi

rahul kohli

lakeith stanfield

ruby cruz

open to other fc’s but i prefer actors over influencers, etc

if you have any questions or are interested just like/message! :)

[kasha-formerlydrabbletastic]

Parent/Teacher Night

Sheriff Hassan x Fem!Reader (Midnight Mass)

Summary: The reader is a teacher at the school on Crockett Island, engaged in a “flirtationship of the ages” with the local Sheriff, that finally comes to a steamy culmination. 

Word count: 2,243

Warnings: MATURE READERS ONLY 18+ - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Public sex, creampie, P in V sex, oral sex (f receiving), swearing, a small dose of Bev Keane. 

.

.

.

.

“Well, that's a welcome sight."

You take the banner down off the wall, smiling as you fold it into its original packaging; parent/teacher night was as expected, with the obvious meeting of parents and the explanation of your planned curriculum and first impressions of your students. You had seen Hassan briefly, a bright spot amongst the rather dull group of parents, but only briefly as you carried on your rehearsed speech and fielded questions that were, frankly, small-minded to a concerning degree. When they left to meet with the other handful of teachers the school has, your classroom was quiet, allowing you to decompress from the pressure.

The voice, deep and soothing, comes from behind you, and you turn to see Hassan, leaning against the door frame as his eyes rise to meet yours. His strong arms are folded over his sturdy chest and you can't help but let your mind wander, imagining once more what being held against that sturdy chest would feel like.

"Evening, Sheriff," you say before your tongue sweeps over your lips; Hassan's gaze falls once more for a brief second.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he says, pulling himself off the doorframe and stepping toward you, a relaxed swagger coming over him. "I know the night is over but..."

You study him from toe to tip, hoping against hope you'll get to feel some of that swagger as soon as possible.

"Parent/teacher night might be over, but I am more than happy to help with any questions you might have."

"I was hoping you'd make an exception," he says, his smile more of a smirk than anything you'd ever seen of him.

There's about three feet between you now, every cell in your body screaming for the gap to be closed. You and Hassan have been dancing around each other for months now, a flirtationship of the ages, but not once had either of you made a move to progress it. The tension was achingly palpable, pressing on you from every side and waiting for you to finally pop.

"Well, what else can I do for the man who keeps Crockett safe if not make an exception?"

"That's true," he says, his smirk growing cockier.

"Oh, please," you laugh. "Don't be so humble."

"I could try," he replies, "but what fun would that be?"

As if out of instinct, you step forward, gazing into Hassan's face for a moment before you say, "So what is it you need, Sheriff?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" he replies, matching your step forward; his voice is quiet, husky to say the least as a certain haze sets in. His brown eyes shift over every feature of your face, seemingly drinking you in as you feel his fingers lace with yours.

The slightest tremble excitedly quakes your body in response, and your fingers close around his. You tug him forward until your chests press together, feeling his warmth seep through your blouse to your skin.

"Hassan," you murmur with every intention to make another quip, but before you can, Hassan exhales, curling his hand around the base of your head and tilting it up. 

His lips barely part as he lowers his face to yours, capturing the gasp that dances from your mouth. They're soft, warm, gentle in their first touch, and immediately intoxicating; it's like a dam has broken, the curl of anticipation from your belly exploding into exhilaration in your veins, coursing through to push you forward against Hassan, throwing your arms around his waist to pull him closer. You'd crawl into his skin if given the chance, but you'll settle for just being as close as possible, touching in as many places as possible.

Both of his hands now cradle your head as his lips part yours, his tongue slipping past, curious to explore your mouth. He hungers for you, craves you in ways he's never shown before. His body pushes forward, pressing your backside against your desk as the most obvious sign of his desire brushes against you.

You moan into his mouth, your core tingling with arousal. The very thought of his cock slipping into you is enough to soak your panties, made more potent by the feeling of his hands drifting down your neck and onto your chest. He paws at your breasts for a moment before they slide down your ribs and over your waist, not stopping until each hand is full of your rear. Hassan scoops you up, settling you on the edge of your desk without once breaking the kiss.

His fingers bunch up your long, modest skirt, hiking it up over your legs as you spread them to make room for him. The kiss grows more desperate and his fingertips press into your thighs, surely bruising them. They grope higher and higher up your legs until his thumbs rest near to your heat; you're certain if he just slips his thumb up half an inch, he will feel the tell-tale wetness he's causing.

In turn, your hands wander, feeling his soft and strong body through his uniform's button-up before you reach down and cup his bulge.

"Ah," he sighs against your lips, his forehead pressing against yours as you begin to stroke him outside his jeans. "Y/N, that feels so good."

"It'll feel even better once I take it out," you giggle.

This prompts Hassan to pull back, his expression messy with lust.

"Here?" he asks, his concern pushing through for just a moment.

"I'm up for it if you are," you reply, your hand already at work on his belt buckle.

"Fuck, I'm up for it," he says before he claims your mouth again.

Your fingers pull his belt open, then make quick work on his button and fly. Maneuvering the hole of his boxers, your hand dips inside, pulling his erection free of its cage. Hassan gasps as your fingers wrap around it, just barely able to close before gently stroking.

"Fuuuuuck," he groans, his grip on your thighs tightening.

With a twist of your wrist, he's eating out of the palm of your hand, needier than you ever imagined he could be. He ruts into your hand, seemingly unable to quench the instinct. The kiss is growing sloppy, his concentration falling into his cock as a bead of precum shines on the tip. You swipe the pad of your thumb over it, pulling back from Hassan's face and licking the digit clean.

"Fuck," he moans, but he doesn't let you continue.

Instead, he gently grabs your wrists, setting your hands on the edge of the desk before stealing another quick kiss. He then drops to his knees in front of you, eyes fixed on yours as he leans forward. His fingertip glides along the hem of your panties, tugging them aside to reveal your heat before he licks a stripe right between your lips. He teases your clit, flicking his tongue against it before he sucks it in between his lips.

"Oh, god," you murmur, glancing at the open door to your classroom and wondering if any other teachers might still be here.

Hell, if Bev Keane walked in on this... she'd shit her holier-than-thou pants.

Hassan, on the other hand, doesn't seem to even spare that a passing thought as he dives into you, his hands pressing your thighs apart the more involved his mouth becomes. He laps at you, tasting every drop of dew that drips from you with relish as your body begins to twitch. Your hips press forward, begging him to never stop, don't stop, don't ever, ever stop...

"God, Hassan," you gasp as he presses two fingers into you.

Thrusting his fingers in, he curls the tips up to catch your g-spot each time they pull back, sending a small dose of ecstasy every time. He carries on, his tongue dancing over your clit, his fingers pulling quick and heavy breaths from you.

Your fingers dig into the desk as you try to keep steady, your ass lifting from its seat the longer Hassan goes. It's only when you think you can't take it anymore that you explode, your orgasm bursting from your core.

"Fuck!" you gasp, gripping the desk. "Fuck, Hassan."

His tongue slows, licking its last few laps before he pulls away, pressing kiss after kiss along your thigh until he reaches your knee.

"You," he says, putting his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean, "taste so good. I could do that all day."

"I'm gonna hold you to that some day," you giggle, grasping the front of his shirt to pull him in for a kiss. Your other hand, though, reaches down to guide his cock into you.

"Fuck me," he moans when he's fully seated, entirely buried in your warmth.

He's thick, taking up a little too much room, but you don't mind. On the contrary, you positively ache as his cock stretches you out, putting pressure on every sensitive part of your cunt except...

Hassan presses his thumb to your clit, making you sigh when he circles the bundle of nerves softly, gently, as you acclimate to his size. His lips brush yours just as softly, coaxing your mouth open for a kiss before he pulls his hips back, thrusting forward. He starts slowly, a gentle to and fro. Soon, though, as your kisses become hungrier, so does he; he employs more power, each thrust pushing you back on the desk before you lean back, watching Hassan as he pumps inside you. His gaze drops down to the joining of your bodies, too, biting his lip as he ruts into you hard enough that the desk screeches back a couple inches.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he mutters, taking hold of your hips with his free hand. "I've wanted this... for so long... wanted you..."

His thumb presses just a little harder on your clit, drowning your reply in a low moan. The drag of his cock along your g-spot sends sparks from your core that dance with the tendrils of pleasure reaching from your clit, and you break once more, your walls pulsing around Hassan's cock. You grit your teeth to keep from shouting aloud as you come.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his hips grinding against yours. "So fucking pretty when you come."

You smile, sitting up to grasp his ass, to pull him as close to you as possible. He leans forward, too, his lips devouring yours in another kiss.

"Fuck, I'm gonna come," he growls against your mouth. "Where..."

"Come inside me, Hassan," you nearly beg, your fingers running through his hair as you pull him in.

He leans forward again, enough to where he plants his hands on the desktop to steady himself as he rails into you, your body absorbing every blow from every quick thrust he has. He grunts with the effort, slamming down until he comes; he groans, his pelvis pressed to yours as he empties himself inside you. With a few more gentle thrusts, he spends himself, ending with his face buried in your neck.

His beard tickles against your skin as he presses soft kisses on your neck. You relish the feeling, the post-coital glow that surrounds you as you hold him against your body.

However long after, he pulls away, his formerly hazy brown eyes now filled with a beautiful clarity.

"I know this is a little out of order," he says gently, "but will you let me take you out to dinner one night this week? There's this place on the mainland I'd really like to treat you to."

"On one condition," you say, pressing kisses to his neck.

"God, anything," he replies on a sigh.

"When we fuck after that," you say, looking into his eyes, "I at least get to see you naked."

"Only if I get to see you naked," he laughs, some of his cockiness making a return.

"Deal," you say, sealing it with a kiss. "We should really put ourselves back together before anyone catches us."

You feel Hassan pull out of you, his softening cock shining with your release; he pulls some tissues from a box on your desk, cleaning himself off before putting himself away.

"Can I walk you home, Miss Y/L/N?" he asks as you dismount off the desk.

You lick your lips, feeling his seed drip out of you as you situate your skirt.

"Let me tidy up first," you say, tugging him down by his shirt again, pressing your lips to his.

"Ahem."

The new voice comes from the doorway, and the two of you turn to see Bev Keane standing there, judgement all over her face.

"I'm sure necking like a couple of teenagers in an empty classroom is just fine to you, but there are some who are put off by public displays of affection like that."

You look at Hassan, having released his shirt already, and take a step back, holding your hands up.

"Apologies, Bev," you say. "It won't happen again."

"I should hope not," she replies. "We've got to close up for the night. Perhaps you and the sheriff would find yourselves more comfortable in the privacy of your own homes."

"Yes, ma'am," Hassan says, looking at you with a surreptitious wink.

Without further ado, he helps you tidy up, and the two of you follow Bev out of the school for the night, taking your dirty little secret home with you.

[earlgreydream]

free use with sheriff Hassan (midnight mass)

cw: implied consent, degradation, light spanking

a/n: i'm a flanaverse whore, so i had to <3

the house smelled like soup, a storm brewing outside, threatening all the inhabitants of the tiny island. you’d been ordered to stay inside, left in your small house near the beach, waiting for the sheriff to come home from securing the marina.

you’d barely seen hassan all week, the interruption to your active sex life making you agitated. you were a pent-up ball of sexual frustration, so much so that the night before you’d told your husband that you’d be happy if he fucked you over the table while he went about his routine. you didn’t care, you were simply desperate. with the storm, the new monsignor in town, and beverly terrorizing the island, hassan had been rather neglectful of your needs, coming home late at night and practically passing out as soon as he sat down.

you were stirring the pot of soup when the sound of the front door alerted you of your husband's arrival, his heavy footsteps in the foyer. you called out a greeting, but didn't move away from your task, assuming that like always, he would be right back out the door or straight into the shower before crashing for the night.

you never blamed him, he was a good sheriff, something important in the unsettling island where evil was often lurking.

"hassan!" you gasped, nearly dropping your spoon as his hands suddenly found your waist, muscular body towering over yours.

"make sure it doesn't burn, doll," he murmured, fingers wrestling open the button on your jeans.

hassan yanked down your waistband, baring you in the kitchen, in front of the window, where any of the local parish could walk by and see if they were being particularly nosy. he didn't care, hassan was drunk on the need to be inside of you, heavy and aching with arousal.

"what are you doing?"

"you said you were so desperate to be fucked I didn't need to ask. knock it off with the attitude and bend over for me," he answered firmly, holding your jaw in his hand, waiting for you to obey.

you leaned forward, resting your elbow on the counter as he kicked your feet apart, salivating as your wet sex came into view. a gasp escaped your lips as your hips were knocked forward against the edge of the counter, hassan never having any restraint on his force, nearly knocking your pot over.

you were so suddenly full and despite knowing that he had told you to keep cooking, you blindly shut off the stove as your vision tunneled, your husband making you cockdrunk in seconds.

"can't listen, can ya?" he slapped your ass, the loud crack rattling through the kitchen and the sting spreading through your skin.

"you... said not to burn it," you answered through clenched teeth, being dangerously snide with him.

he fucked into you hard, his fingers dropping off of your clit, taking away the extra pleasure he had awarded you. hassan tugged your hair back, connecting your lips in a fiery kiss as your back pressed to his chest.

"been missing your smart little attitude," his voice was deep, but his tone loving beneath.

"please, fuck me all night," you begged against his lips, desperately rocking back against him.

[royalsunshinehotel]

may i request nsfw alphabet with napoleon usher?

Napoleon 'Leo' Usher (NSFW Alphabet, 18+)

A/N: I’m writing this after watching Episode Four with @hecuba-of-troy. It’s such a slay, and I love Rahul Kohli so much. This being said, Leo is the worst and I hate him, and I want him. Please enjoy this NSFW alphabet for the worst character ever. 

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) It’s minimal, if not nonexistent. Leo, after coming in to the Usher family at age 18, was certified at the ‘fuck-and-run’ 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I don't think he likes to look close enough at his partners to have a favorite body part. For him, he likes his hands and his hair

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) He hasn’t got a preference beyond: as much as possible, and everywhere. Cleaning up after is usually a multi-step process. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) There was definitely a time in his life when he had a spreadsheet of everyone he’d done sexual activities with. Yes, it is now deleted because he’s become more confident in himself in his thirties. Is it always warranted? Who’s to say. Is the spreadsheet now deleted? Yeah, and he’ll deny it ever existed. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Oh he’s a certified slut. He knows what he needs to do to ‘maintain his reputation’, and he’s probably going to do it. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) He’s a big fan of his partners either being on top, or being on all fours. He’s pretty tall, so whatever’s best for his upper back that day is usually what makes the choice. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) I think he tries to keep it minimal, because goofiness can lead to Intimacy and he can't have that. If he cracks a joke, you’ll laugh and then what !!! chaos (See I) 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) I seriously think it matches his fuck ass haircut. Like short on the sides long on the middle. I don’t know hair growth patterns down there, but you get the idea. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) I feel like he’s capable of it, but he’ll have to dump you immediately after. It’s something he actively has to tamp down in the name of getting off. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) A whole lot. 3x daily I fear. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) There's no way he’s having a fucking ass stupid ass haircut like that if you’re not the one pulling on it. Fucking fuck ass shaved sides fuckboy. Like I don’t know what that style is called, but it’s right there next to ‘fuck ass bob’. 

Next after that, I think he’s really into lite bondage. Just being tied up and used by you, which you’re happy to do. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Typically at home, but if it’s been a to of family drama, he’ll fuck you in his car on the way to/from the family event. Next after that, the two of you get nasty in the shower, and then the bedroom. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) A gust of air? Typically I feel like Leo gets a little bit stuck in his own head, typically in a negative train of thought. That usually does it, but he’ll never let it on. He’ll literally use you to feel Anything, but not That much. Sorry!! He needs therapy!!

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) I feel like choking/ anything to do with pain really, it’s off the table. If there’s one thing about Leo, he would never hurt you on purpose. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Receiving. I’m not gonna say any more than that. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) It depends on the mood honestly, fast and rough if he’s had a hard time with his family, but it’s slow and sensual and lazy most other times. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) IDK why I feel this way, but I don’t think Leo is very into quickies, just because he doesn’t strike me as a man who is good at multitasking. Like if a partner were to initiate sex, it would suddenly be sex-time for sex havers. Whatever he was doing before, would have to be put on hold. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Oh he’s all about it, anything to feel something. I see a lot of fucking on his balcony, perhaps in the bathroom at a cool restaurant. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) I think he’s been blessed with a whole lot of stamina, almost alarmingly so. Just picture his partner, exhausted, and Leo just cheesing like :D need a break? 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) I think he’s got a substantial collection, because he’s a lazy lover and if he can’t pawn the work off on his partner, he’ll pawn it off on a toy. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) I think it’s up to his partners to tease. Leo is a bit of a glutton, so I can’t see him knowing how to tease, or tease well. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) I know this man’s loud as hell. In canon, he’s a slut who hooks up with his instagram followers. I truly believe he doesn’t care who hears ever, and he’s probably smug and selfish, regardless of his minimal effort. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) I feel like Leo has his hair like that by mistake. It looks kind of like a mistake, like he went on a bender, and woke up with his hair like that. This being the case, he’s big into wearing hats in the winter, because the sides of his head like that.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) He’s a stallion, in his fucking prime. Thank you, god bless. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) As we see on the show, it’s pretty darn high. The two of you are definitely NOT monogamous because I’m betting this man drowns his low self-esteem with a high sex drive. He picks up anything that moves and has sex with it. He’s very much the type to say “i don’t know” when you ask about people in his apartment. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) 

I think regardless of him being on his “best behavior” he knocks out almost immediately after. He’s very much the type to just roll over and fall asleep, for better or worse.

[thisoneisbatter]

Holy: Chapter Seven

This is a new fic that is completed but I think I’ll be rolling it out chapter by chapter because it is a long one. It’s brat tamer, jaded widower Sheriff Hassan in full effect. This fic does contain some very rough sex and consensual sexual violence in some chapters so please do not read if that is a trigger for you. Otherwise, please enjoy and leave feedback!

Holy

Chapter Seven

Word Count: 1k+

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Things start adding up, but it brings more questions than answers.

Hassan woke up to Leslie rolling over dramatically to get away from the sun streaming into his window. Her hair was wild on his pillow and her leg was thrown over his waist.

“Good morning, honey.” That was the third time he’d called her that. He made a mental note not to make a habit of it. He reached across her to his bedside table to look at his watch. It was after 7. He hadn’t intended to go into the office early like he usually did. The people from the state police wouldn’t be coming until 9:30 on the Breeze anyway. 7 was late for him, though.

“Good morning, honey.” She mocked back. He knew no kind deed would go unteased.

“I think it’s a good idea if I go into your house without you today to recover your mother.” He cut right to the chase. No sense in skirting around it. “If you don’t feel comfortable going into work, you’re more than welcome to stay here.”

“No, I want to work today.” She stretched her arms over her head, arching her back dramatically. “I think it will be good to take my mind off of things.”

Hassan snaked an arm under her torso and pulled her flush to him. His other hand gravitated to her face, cupping her cheek. He wanted to kiss her. He was so sure that if he let it, his body would do it without permission. He brushed his thumb over her lips instead.

“You were so sweet to me last night.” Her green eyes were dark and intense the way she was backlit, but her gaze still cut right into him. He tried to brush it off, scoffing like it’s what anyone would do. “No, Hassan, I’m serious. For once.” He gave her a pained smile. He didn’t for one moment regret the tenderness he’d shown her, but he was afraid of opening up more. It was already scary enough. “Why are you so good to me? I haven’t done anything to earn it.”

“Hey,” His hand had slipped down to the side of her neck. He could feel her pulse just below the surface. “That’s not-you don’t have to earn that. You deserve to be treated with care, Leslie.”

“Do you think this is all we’ll ever be?” She looked sad. Not the sadness she’d shown the night before. This was different, less raw, more gutting. It was something he suspected had been sitting with her for some time.

“This isn’t the right time to have this discussion.” He didn’t mean to be curt. It truly wasn’t the right time. He didn’t have an answer.

He thought about it all day. While he helped the medical examiner heft Cindy’s frail form into a body bag. While he rolled the carpet from the floor and stuffed the sheets into plastic bags. They didn’t exactly have a crime lab on Crockett. It would all be shipped away to almost certainly never be heard about again. An old woman collapsing wasn’t top tier crime anywhere else. They weren’t even positive it was a crime there on the island yet.

But still, he thought about what Leslie said. Would they ever be more? He couldn’t see a reason in any direction. What even was she to him then? A coworker, a subordinate, a young girl with a big mouth, a woman he occasionally took out his frustrations on. Was she going to be his wife some day? Would she want children? He was old and used up, tired of carrying on and on and on. Is that what she wanted? Leslie was so full of life and light and energy. Her mouth moved a mile a minute and Hassan rarely attempted to keep up. How would that work?

On the other hand, Leslie made him feel comfortable, wanted, accepted. She was in his corner in a place where very few people even wanted to be near him. She’d wiggled her way into his life, his bed, his thoughts, and she wasn’t going anywhere. It wasn’t the type of relationship he was used to, but it could be a relationship nonetheless. If he wanted it to be.

The Breeze left at 7:30 with the contents of Leslie’s living room on it, including her mother. Hassan drove home expecting to see her, but when he walked in he was greeted by his son and only him.

“No Leslie?” He questioned absently, toeing off his boots by the door.

“Don’t you guys like text each other?” Ali was already digging in the fridge, trying to will dinner to appear. “Why are you asking me?”

“Watch it.” He draped his coat over a chair and sat down, scratching his beard and breathing out the stress of the day.

“Is it true that someone murdered Ms. Cindy?” Ali sat down across from him, elbows on the table, hands planted between them firmly. Hassan didn’t answer. He simply shot Ali a pained, annoyed look. “What’s the point in my dad being a cop if I don’t get to know anything?”

“Have you considered that it may not be your business?” Hassan wanted coffee, but he also wanted to sleep. He settled for a cup of tea, crossing the kitchen to fill the kettle.

“Dad, Warren says that if Ms. Cindy just fell or had a heart attack or something you wouldn’t have called the cops on the mainland. And if Leslie did something you wouldn’t have taken her here to do whatever with her.”

The last sentence made Hassan wince a little. Teen boys suspecting that two adults are sleeping together is hardly notable, but in a small town things spread fast.

“So you’re a detective now?” He resisted the urge to shovel sugar into his tea. He intended to end this conversation quickly.

“So somebody did kill her?” Ali clapped his hands together, deciding that he was definitely correct. “What do you think happened?”

“I don’t know. That’s why we called the state police.” He sat down again, this time with his tea in hand and his most straight dad face. “If you hear anything, Ali, anything weird at all, you tell me. Okay?”

“I hear weird stuff all the time.” Ali looked smug, able to give Hassan information for once. “Ms. Keane has been pushing harder than usual lately for everyone to attend Mass. I don’t think that’s super weird because of who she is though. She left early yesterday, so we spent the afternoon with Ms. Greene’s class.”

Hassan sat forward quickly, startling Ali slightly. “What time did she go?” Leslie’s mom was cold when he checked her for a pulse. She had to have died sometime in the early afternoon to have cooled off that much. He wouldn’t know what the window was until the report from the state police came back, but it was something. Another puzzle piece on the table.

[pinkandblueblurbs]

kinktober day 10: gagging

sheriff hassan x fem!reader. gagging, gags, semi public sex, desk sex, degradation, mentions of spankings, d/s, brat taming, light size kink

“Take off your pants and underwear.” Hassan orders gruffly, planting large hands on his desk to push himself to his feet, his jaw set. Now standing up, he towers over you with his 6’4’’ stature.

“What?” You gape at him, despite the fact that his words shouldn’t surprise you- with how much you’ve been mouthing off to the man, it was obvious where things were headed.

“I said take off your pants and underwear.” His voice is even more firm, and he raises a thick brow, as if daring you to challenge him again. “And lay down on my desk, on your back.” He adds.

“Hassan-“

“Unless you’d rather I bend you over it and spank your ass raw, I’d suggest you get to it.” He’s stern, yes, but eerily calm- no trace of frustration or irritation in his tone- and it only makes your heart beat faster as a nervous thrill shoots through you.

“Yes, sir.” You murmur, hooking your thumbs in your waistband to obey his command. He offers you a curt nod, eyes trailing down your legs as you bare them to him.

“Good girl.” You lower your panties too, setting them with your pants on the desk, and his gaze lingers for just a moment on your pussy before he meets your eye again. “Now lay down, like I said.”

Keeping his earlier threat in mind you don’t hesitate to comply, hoisting yourself up onto his desk before draping your body over it, the wood cool against the skin of your back.

“Good.” He steps towards you, and your eyes zero in on his hands as he undoes his belt and the fly of his jeans, enough that he can pull out his half hard member. Your mouth waters at the sight of it- the man is certainly proportional, and even not fully erect his large cock makes your cunt pulse. Hassan smirks just a bit.

“You know what’s coming, don’t you? I can see you’re excited.” He observes, and his words make you realize that your legs had fallen open in invitation when he’d freed his cock. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you bite your lower lip as bashfully as you nod.

“Well, don’t get too excited. This isn’t gonna be particularly enjoyable for you.” He takes long strides towards you until he’s right between your legs, his hands coming to rest on your thighs, thumbs rubbing idly. Then he reaches up with one hand to stroke his cock to full hardness. “This is for me. I’m gonna fuck the brat right outta you, and you’re gonna be quiet. Is that clear?”

“Hassan-“

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir.” You answer meekly, swallowing. He nods.

“Good.” He angles his cock downwards, and before you can even take a breath to prepare yourself he shoves forward roughly. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, his thick shaft stretching you almost painfully and his head spongeing over your g-spot.

“Quiet.” He grits, hands moving to grip your waist as he starts thrusting in and out of you. You bite your lip and manage to stifle the moan that threatens to spill from you, the sound coming out a broken whimper.

“Fuck, you feel so good. This is what you’re meant for, eh? Not running your damn mouth, or makin’ my life any more difficult than it already is. You’re supposed to be my stress relief, sweetheart, and that’s how I plan to use you.” He growls as he keeps pounding you, and paying no mind to you or your pleasure his cock only hits the mark every few thrusts. Yet still your orgasm grows nearer.

As your pleasure builds you find it more and more difficult to stifle your sounds. You can hear faint voices and footsteps through the wall, people walking around the store and talking to the clerk, and you try your best to stay quiet as Hassan had ordered. But then he drives forward right into your g-spot, and your lips fall open and your eyes squeeze shut as a lewd moan escapes you.

Hassan growls, and suddenly your eyes are flying open as you choke on two thick, long fingers that are shoved into your open mouth and down your throat. They make you gag, but they achieve their goal, as you’re unable to make any real noises around them.

“What did I say?” His eyes are narrow as he stares down at you, hips still thrusting. “I told you to be quiet. You want someone to hear you getting your brains fucked out? Word travels fast on this island, baby, the whole town would find out what a dirty thing you are.”

A moan tries to form at that, but it’s muffled by the digits still in your mouth, and Hassan can feel it. Still, you shake your head, and he scoffs.

“No? You don’t want them to hear? But you just can’t stay quiet, can you?” He taunts, making you whimper faintly. He sighs, pulling his fingers out of your mouth, a thick strand of saliva connecting them to your lower lip until he reaches away.

He picks up your discarded panties from the desk beside you, and your eyes widen.

“Open. Open your mouth.” He orders. You slowly let your mouth fall open, and he immediately shoves the balled up fabric inside, keeping it wrenched open and muffling the whines that you release. The cotton feels dry and uncomfortable in your mouth, and you know your jaw will be aching by the time Hassan is finished with you.

He’s smirking at the sight of you with your pretty panties in your mouth, a glint in his eye as he keeps fucking. You let out another moan, almost inaudible behind the fabric, as he reaches down to toy with your clit.

“That’s much better.” He mutters. “Dirty girl just needed to be gagged.”

[fair-verona-rpg]

Raj was fascinated by information. A brilliant child, his parents encouraged him to explore everything that intrigued him. A social life wasn’t quite on the agenda however. But scholastically, Raj thrived. With several advanced degrees, including a PhD, his parents expected their darling and brilliant son to become an academic. They were shocked when he announced his intention to join the Watch.

There is never ending information in crime scene investigation. Always something new that can be discovered about human frailties and motivations. Raj was an asset to any investigation he worked on. His team, however, often found him frustrating. Social cues often escape him and he assumes others are equally riveted by the things that fascinate him.

Still, working with a good unit, Raj can provide insight and information like no one else. Recently he has been working on the tragic case of the murder of Rosemund Reed and will be testifying at the forthcoming trial. There is just one problem, despite all the evidence, something seems ... off. If only he could figure out what it was.

Connected To:

The player is welcome to develop a variety of connections with various characters in Verona but Raj would particularly have connections with:

Commander Joan la Pucelle (His Boss)

Nico Ricci (Watchman - senior rank)

Lucca Trevisani (Watchman - more junior rank)

Flexibility:

This is a particularly flexible character. We would love to see him join the Watch and interact with the citizens of Fair Verona. His backstory is flexible, although his position is not (due to upcoming plots) and he could easily be gender-flipped or aged up. Realistically, it is unlikely he would be under thirty. We hope he catches someone’s attention because we would love to see him on our dash!

Faceclaim: Rahul Kohli Birthdate: Up to Player Age: 31 Profession: Crime Scene Investigator

Claim: Up to Player Children: Up to Player Designation: Up to Player Symbol?: Up to Player

Kinks: Up to Player Anti-kinks: Up to Player

OPEN CHARACTER

[thecastrp-closed-blog]

CREW UPDATES: KIAAN CHANDRA has been hired to work on Sapphire Falls. They look a lot like RAHUL KOHLI and are 31 years old. They are known to be DEDICATED and ATTENTIVE but also can be SELF-DESTRUCTIVE and CLOSED OFF. The Down & Dirty says they are into ROUGH SEX and BONDAGE but hate TOILETPLAY and FOODPLAY. KIAAN also identifies as PANSEXUAL. They are to report to the PRODUCTION DEPARTMENT as a SCRIPT SUPERVISOR. This isn’t filling a WC. (OOC: LIV/26/GMT+10/SHE/HER)

Welcome to Sapphire Falls KIAAN CHANDRA, you have been hired as an SCRIPT SUPERVISOR. Please read your welcoming package and report to set for within 24 hours or you will be recast. The FC of RAHUL KOHLI is now TAKEN.

[because-edmund]

Honey, hold me

I was listening to the idiots and a broad podcast and Rahul Kohli said handjobs are underrated so here we are babes.

Little smut for my slutty gals @agirlinherhead @the-redheaded-league 👀💕

Hassan had been stuck in his office all day, annoying amounts of paperwork, filing away reports of nonsense that didn’t matter. Phone calls with detectives, check ins with captains.

He wanted her to just sit in the room with him, that was by far his favorite thing to do. They had gotten into a comfortable routine of doing their own things together. He would read or play some mundane game on his phone, she would draw or cook. It was pleasantly domestic and kept their boundaries in line.

Eventually they would always end up kissing, him on top of her, blocking her in a cage of his admiration, or her in his lap, pressed softly on him. It never went more than that. Despite when he could feel her underwear soaking his thighs or his jeans getting far too tight on him.

All he wanted was that, but instead he had work, and he wondered if he’d even have time to visit Daphne before Ali and him had prayers. Daphne wasn’t religious in that way, but she always made sure Hassan was out and on time to conduct his worship. She had even asked to buy a prayer mat for him, but they both knew he wouldn’t need two when the time came.

He heard a slight knock on the door, “Hiya grumpy bear,” Daphne whispers as though someone will hear her nickname. No one has shopped in the last hour, but she’s always careful.

“Hey, shortcake,” he answers back, not moving his eyes from the screen.

“Can I steal a kiss before I go?” He finally looks up at her, she’s in his favorite skirt she owns. A pink one, with pleats all around with a large frilly button up tucked in, and underneath her legs are covered in thick black stockings. She has her coat in had, and is overall just too cute for him.

“You never have to ask, doll,” he grins up at her. She smiles as she comes forward, bending at the waist to kiss him gently on the lips. “Take a seat with me for a minute.”

“I have to make you and Ali dinner tonight,” she laughs as he grabs her by the waist. She obliges and he settles herself into his lap. She raises a questioning brow at his laptop.

“None of this is important, trust me. Just routine nonsense I have to do,” he mutters, thumb stroking her waist still.

“You seem extra grumpy today, anything I can do to make it better?” She leans her back in to chest, tilting her head up to kiss his neck.

He lets out a soft whimper against his better judgment. “Nothing I can’t take care of by myself,” he mumbles, already envisioning his shower later.

“Hassan, I want you to show me how you like it. What to do, just with my hands…” Daphne sounds so afraid, like he might reject the offer.

It takes him a moment to realize just exactly what the offer is, and when it hits, he’s more than sure she can feel his cock twitch in excitement. “Here…?” He asks, not exactly turning the idea down.

“Yes, I might lose the nerve if I wait any longer, plus Ali is going to be home soon and I don’t think he should see his dad and his mistress going at it.” She laughs at the last part.

“You’re my girlfriend not my side piece,” he laughs back. “You sure you wanna go down this rabbit hole?” He lifts a brow at this, needs to know she’s certain, that he’s not using her or pressuring her.

She responds by massaging the area in jeans that’s been tenting up since she walked in. She had just started being able to lightly grope him the last few nights but this was entirely different. “Yes, I’ve been… reading up on how to do it too.” She blushes a beautiful shade of pink and he could just eat her up in that moment.

He shuffles around a bit in his chair, undoing his buckle before stopping. “You need to pull down my zipper…” he almost pants, excitement catching up to him.

She does as she’s told, albeit very slow, whether it’s intentional or not he doesn’t know, but fuck if it isn’t sensual. She sees his boxers, the bulge that they barely cover, and she places a hand on him.

“Like that, just like that.” He puts his hand over hers, stroking himself in tandem with her. “You can… you can pull it out when you’re ready, or keep doing this. Whatever- whatever feels best for you…” he’s having a hard time speaking, already lost in the sea of pleasure she was making.

She shocks him by pulling boxers down, just enough to free his cock and balls. She stares at it for a moment, they had sent pictures to each other before, but in real life, it was completely different. Hassan couldn’t help but blush as she looked awestruck by it. “It seems pretty big, but you look beautiful.” She whispers.

He blushes harder at the words, something she notices and smirks at right away. “Thank you,” he mouths out, unable to actually speak now. He grabs her hand and has her lift up his shirt a little, “I’m almost fully hard, it’ll start hitting my stomach then,” he explains. “Don’t want precum on my uniform.”

She nods, she had seen that in some videos before, of it bouncing off their stomachs. Then she marvels at his stomach too, but not for much longer as curiosity gets the better of her and she strokes him again. Her thumb rubs over his tip in a small circle, and he releases the most intoxicating moan she’s ever heard. He grabs her hand, forcing her to tighten her grip, and move a bit faster.

“I gotta be honest here, shortcake,” he pants.

“Yeah?” She nearly whimpers as she watches their hands pleasure him, precum leaking out of him and providing an excellent lubricant, his cock twitching more frequently.

“I’m not gonna last,” he laughs.

She does something on her own accord, uses her other hand to fondle his balls, tugs them slightly, and it’s too much. He’s coming before he can think to stop it. He pushes Daphne off him, hoping she won’t be offended.

He lets out a near pornographic sounding moan as he quickly grabs the trash can under his desk. Stroking his cock a final few times as he spurts out his cum on forgotten papers. He breathes heavy, just grateful Daphne didn’t get hit with any of it. His body feels boneless now, he slumps his head onto his desk.

“Wow,” Daphne squeaks out, still staring at the trash can Hassan hasn’t set down, his cock softening behind the plastic.

“Wow,” he breathes back at her, a toothy grin on his face. “Sorry I pushed you off. Almost blew all over you, where did you read to do that?” He chuckles, finally moving as she helps him tuck himself back into his pants.

“Just some cosmo magazine,” she lied. A laugh escaping her at the memory of Grace and Erin teaching her tips and tricks on a banana.

“You deserve something now…” he wipes his hands on some tissue, not exactly the cleanest but he’ll use the stores restroom in a moment and properly clean then.

“Maybe another time, that was more than enough for me today,” she kisses him and he sighs into it. “Call me tonight?”

“Of course,” he says before giving her one last kiss on the forehead.