#hamzah angst

[havens-iphone]

ᡣ𐭩 between shared walls ⋮ roommate!hamzah

wc ⋮ 1.2k

authors note ⋮ so this was ORIGINALLY intended to be like 300-500 words.. yeeeaaahhh.. ANYWAYS i feel like theres rlly not enough hamzah fics and its so sad i read them all in like 2 days💔💔

the first time you met hamzah, he was standing in the doorway of your new apartment, a cup of instant ramen in hand and sleep-mussed hair. his voice was groggy when he introduced himself, rubbing his eyes like a kid waking up from a nap. you were flustered, apologizing for the boxes blocking the hallway, but he just shrugged.

“it’s your home too,” he said, flashing a lopsided smile before disappearing into his room.

living with him was… easy, in ways you didn’t expect. he cleaned the kitchen without being asked and always brewed an extra cup of tea in the mornings. you’d find notes on the fridge in his scrawled handwriting — reminders like “don’t forget your umbrella” or “good luck on your exam!” he never overstepped, always giving you space, but his quiet presence became a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

but easy didn’t mean simple.

you tried not to fall for him. truly, you did. but then he’d lean against the counter late at night, listening to your ramblings about work with those gentle eyes, or he’d nudge your shoulder with his when you were sad, offering a half-hearted, “want me to fight whoever upset you?”

it built slowly, this ache in your chest.

and then, one night, it cracked.

you’d just gotten home from a disastrous date, eyes puffy from crying, mascara streaking your cheeks. hamzah was on the couch, scrolling through his phone, and he immediately sat up when he saw you.

“what happened?” his voice, usually so light, was low, serious.

you tried to brush it off, but he wouldn’t let you. he listened as you spilled every awful detail — the harsh words, the disappointment, the feeling of never being enough. you kept talking until your throat hurt, until there was nothing left to say.

and then he whispered, “he’s an idiot, you know.”

you laughed, wet and shaky. “i think that’s generous.”

he looked at you, really looked at you, and something shifted.

“i don’t get it,” he murmured, voice rough around the edges. “how anyone could have you — could know you — and not feel like the luckiest person alive.”

your heart thudded painfully. “hamzah…”

he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “forget it. you should get some sleep.”

for days, things were… strange. he wasn’t cold, but distant in a way he never was before. the notes on the fridge stopped, and he spent more time in his room, door closed. you missed him, missed the way things used to be, and it made your chest feel hollow.

but then, one night, there was a knock on your door.

hamzah stood there, rubbing the back of his neck, looking unsure for the first time since you met him.

“i can’t —” his voice cracked. “i can’t keep pretending like i don’t want more.”

and just like that, the ache in your chest unraveled.

because neither could you.

you stared at hamzah, your heart hammering against your ribs like it wanted out. his words lingered in the air, heavy and fragile all at once.

“i can’t keep pretending like i don’t want more,” he’d said, voice shaking like he hated how vulnerable he sounded.

but the truth was, you hated it more — hated the thought of him hurting, of him thinking he had to hide from you.

“come in,” you whispered, stepping aside.

he hesitated, lingering in the doorway like he might run. but he didn’t. he stepped into your room, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, and you shut the door behind him.

the silence stretched, uncomfortable and loaded. you sat on the edge of your bed, picking at the hem of your sweater, and hamzah stayed standing, shoulders tense like he was bracing for impact.

“why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, voice small.

he exhaled a humorless laugh, rubbing his face. “because you deserve someone better.”

your chest cracked open. “better?”

he nodded, pacing the length of your room. “someone who doesn’t freeze up every time you smile at them. someone who can actually hold a conversation instead of standing there like an idiot because they’re too busy trying not to stare at your mouth.”

your breath caught. “hamzah—”

“you don’t get it.” he turned to face you, eyes burning. “i liked you from the start. and every day i told myself it was just a crush, that it would fade. but then you’d leave me notes on the fridge or laugh at my stupid jokes, and it just… got worse.”

you swallowed hard, hands trembling in your lap. “it wasn’t a crush,” you whispered. “not for me either.”

he froze. “what?”

you stood, heart in your throat. “i tried so hard not to fall for you, hamzah. but then you’d make me tea when i couldn’t sleep or stay up late watching terrible movies with me because i was sad, and i… i couldn’t help it.”

he stared at you, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“i thought you didn’t see me that way,” you admitted, voice breaking. “i thought i was just your roommate.”

hamzah closed the distance between you in two steps. his hands hovered over your arms like he was scared to touch you, scared you’d disappear.

“you were never just anything to me,” he whispered.

and when you didn’t pull away, he finally cupped your face in his hands, fingers warm and careful.

“you sure about this?” he asked, voice shaking.

you nodded, tears burning your eyes. “i’ve never been more sure.”

so he kissed you — soft, tentative, like he was terrified of doing it wrong. but when you kissed him back, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie, he melted.

and for the first time since you met him, everything finally made sense.

[chalantzah]

BAGS

roommate!hamzah oneshot

‘can you see me? i’m waiting for the right time.”

warnings : tension, no smut (sorry), clairo inspired

you standing side by side with hamzah in the tiny bathroom, sharing the same mirror, the same fluorescent light that makes every pore visible.

he’s in a well-loved and worn t shirt paired with comfy sweats, toothbrush lazily hanging from his mouth as he looks through the drawers for his mouthwash.

this is the routine.

just you and him, silence. random creaks from the old flooring of your apartment.

his arm bumps your slightly, not hard at all but hard enough to knock you out of your thoughts and glance up.

he catches your eyes in the mirror and grins with his mouth full of toothpaste.

you try not to smile back.

you fail and softly match his grin.

“movie?” he asks once you’ve both finished up and he’s toweling off his face.

you nod, too tired to offer anything else.

it’s always like this. late nights that turn into even later nights. you say you’re going to bed early and then suddenly you’re on the couch under a shared blanket watching something stupid and letting the tv sounds fill your living room.

you don’t even know when it started.

you don’t know how it got this far.

all you know is that when you sit down beside him, your knee touches his and he doesn’t move.

and neither do you.

the apartment is quiet except for the movie and the low buzz of the fridge.

hamzah’s hair is still slightly damp from his shower, he smells like your expensive lavender bodywash.

you should be annoyed. you’re not.

he laughs at something on screen and you look at him instead of the movie.

you don’t realize until it’s too late. until he glances back and catches you looking.

he raises an eyebrow.

you shake your head. look away. pull the blanket tighter around you.

“what?”

“nothing.” you murmur.

“liar.”

you don’t answer.

but he doesn’t push either.

twenty minutes later, you’ve forgotten what movie you’re even watching, your thoughts eating you alive.

hamzah shifts beside you, and suddenly he’s closer. shoulder to shoulder. knee to thigh. the blanket now shared fully. your heart doing something weird.

you breathe in.

you don’t know how he does it. how he always makes it feel like nothing’s changed when everything has.

you were supposed to be roommates. just roommates. just cheap rent and split groceries and sharing toothpaste because it was easier.

but then there were late night takeout runs and blanket stealing and sleepy “good mornings” with his voice still raspy. there were all the times you took care of eachother when one was hungover.

it doesn’t feel like roommates anymore.

you just don’t know what it feels like.

the movie ends. he doesn’t move. neither do you. the credits roll. he glances over at you.

“you ‘kay?”

you nod, even though your chest feels too full.

you wish you could ask.

wish you could say something like, “do you think about me too?” “do you know how often i almost say it?”

but you don’t.

instead, you say, “i might move out.”

his whole body stills.

you weren’t supposed to say that.

“what?”

you chew on your lip. “i don’t know. just thinking about it as an option.”

“why?”

you shrug in response. “maybe it’s time.”

he looks at you. really looks at you, as if he's trying to read through your thoughts.

“did i do something?”

“no.”

“well.. did someone say something?”

“no.”

he’s quiet for a second. “then what is it?”

you can’t answer that without breaking.

so you lie.

“i just think it’s been a while. maybe we need space.” you say with a short swallow.

his jaw tightens and you see his brow ever so slightly raise. but he doesn’t say anything right away.

and then, quietly, and bluntly answers.

“well if you want to leave, i can’t stop you.”

you nod, even though it hurts more than you thought it would.

neither of you speak for the rest of the night.

when he gets up to go to bed, he doesn’t say goodnight. you're just left to stare at the blank tv screen for a long time after he’s gone.

for the next week, you don’t avoid him on purpose.

not really anyways. you still answer when he talks to you, still sit next to him on the couch when there’s nowhere else to go. you still pass him the cereal when he reaches for it in the mornings and still let your fingers brush when he hands you the remote.

you’re not avoiding him. you’re just pulling back. quieting down. watching the way he moves through the apartment like you're preparing yourself for the fact that you won’t be here much longer.

you’re not sure if he notices. you think he might. he’s too observant not to. but he doesn’t bring it up, and you don’t either.

instead, you both live in this weird in-between, where nothing is wrong, but nothing feels right in your friendship anymore.

it’s like something cracked open after that night. or maybe it’s just been slowly splitting for a while, and now you can’t pretend it’s not.

either way, you feel it. and you think he does too.

you spend most of thursday in your room. your excuse is that you’re tired. too much work, too much thinking, not enough sleep. but the truth is, you just don’t trust yourself to be around him right now.

not when everything you haven’t said is pressing against your teeth and is slowly destroying you.

by the time you do emerge, it’s past 11 pm and the apartment is quiet. you go through the motions without thinking. grab your toothbrush, wash your face, flick the bathroom light on with your elbow.

you’re halfway through brushing your teeth when you hear him coming down the hallway.

you don’t expect him to stop at the door. or to knock once, gently, like he’s asking permission.

when you glance over, he’s leaning in the doorway, holding his own toothbrush and a lazy kind of smile.

“mind if i join?”

you shrug.

he steps in, stands beside you, and for a second it’s like nothing’s changed. like you’re just two roommates brushing your teeth in the cramped little bathroom you’ve shared for over a year now.

but it feels like it has changed.

his sleeve brushes yours when he shifts. your eyes meet in the mirror. you both look away.

he breaks the silence first, his voice soft around toothpaste. “you’ve been quiet lately.”

you spit into the sink, take your time rinsing.

“just tired.”

he hums like he doesn’t quite buy it, but doesn’t push.

you expect him to leave once you’re done, but he stays. brushes slowly. runs the water too long. maybe trying to stretch the moment out.

maybe not.

either way, you towel off your face and slip past him without another word.

the next morning, you’re both in the kitchen at the same time. it’s early, still kind of grey outside. you’re making tea. he’s pouring cereal into a chipped bowl, yawning like he didn’t sleep well.

you’re half-listening to the kettle, trying to keep your hands steady, when he speaks again.

his voice is quiet. almost careful.

“do you ever.. feel like things are different now?”

you pause.

then, cluelessly reply “different how?”

he shrugs, leans his hip against the counter, spoon hanging loose in one hand.

“i don’t know. not in a bad way. just… not like when we first moved in together”

you nod, even though you’re not sure he’s looking.

“yeah i guess. sometimes.” you casually reply, but all you want to do is scream confessions at the top of your lungs.

the kettle clicks off and neither of you move to grab it.

he exhales, almost like he’s about to say something else. and maybe he is. but instead, he asks something that catches you off guard.

“what if you stayed?”

you turn to look at him, the question hanging in the space between you.

“what?”

his eyes are soft, unreadable.

“just… what if you didn’t move out?”

your chest tightens.

“why?”

he hesitates. shrugs. looks down into his cereal.

“we’re good roommates.”

the words hit harder than they should. because you know you are. you always have been, and you always will be,

just roommates.

but that’s not why you’ve been losing sleep over him. that’s not what all of this has been building toward.

you force a small nod and a smile.

“i’ll think about it.”

it’s a lie, and you think he knows that.

he doesn’t say anything else.

you pour your tea, fingers trembling, and walk out of the kitchen without looking back.

you spend the afternoon folding laundry that you don’t remember putting in the machine.

your hands move on autopilot, smoothing fabric, lining up seams, trying to keep yourself distracted. at some point, one of his shirts ends up in the pile , the grey one you always steal, the one that’s a little too big on you and smells like whatever detergent he uses mixed with something that’s just... him.

you hold it for too long. your fingers bunch the collar, then smooth it out again.

then you fold it neatly and place it on top of the stack like it doesn’t mean anything.

like it’s not the closest thing you’ve held to him in days.

that night, it rains.

you’re curled up on the couch, blanket tucked around your legs, the tv playing something you’re not watching. the sound of the rain fills the room in waves. soft. constant. calming, if not for the static inside your chest.

you don’t hear him come in right away.

just the click of the door. the shuffle of wet shoes.

you look over with a confused frown while he’s standing there, soaked through, hair dripping onto his hoodie.

“forgot my umbrella,” he mutters, pushing the door shut behind him.

you toss him a towel without saying anything.

he catches it and scrubs at his hair, then peels the hoodie off and tosses it onto the counter.

he’s still shivering when he walks over.

“what are we watching?”

you shrug.

“can i sit?”

you nod softly, shifting just enough for him to drop beside you.

the couch dips under his weight. your legs brush.

neither of you move away.

you don’t know how long you sit like that. listening to the rain. not really paying attention to the movie. just existing in the same space. not touching, but close enough to want to.

eventually, he speaks.

“do you remember our first night here?”

you smile, just barely.

“you burned the frozen pizza.”

“you blamed it on me.”

“because it was your fault.”

he laughs quietly.

“yeah. maybe it was.”

you both fall quiet again.

then, softer, “i miss that night. i think about it a lot”

you don’t mean to, but your heart squeezes.

because it did feel easy. back when you didn’t know what this would turn into. before everything started meaning too much.

“me too,” you whisper.

you don’t look at him. and he doesn’t look at you.

but you think you both feel it.

whatever this is.

whatever it’s becoming.

you don’t fall asleep on the couch that night, but you pretend to.

and when he drapes the blanket over you and walks away, you almost call out to him.

almost.

but you don’t.

not yet.

you don’t talk much the next day again.

still though, it’s not like you’re avoiding each other. you just move quieter and softer.

you’re both aware something’s shifted and neither of you wants to tip it too far.

you’ve been lying in bed for over an hour, the lamp still on beside you, your laptop open to a blank google doc you haven’t touched. your chest’s been feeling tight all day, not quite anxious, but not settled either.

he slowly knocks on the door of your bedroom with his fist.

you sit up when you hear the knock.

“yeah?”

he cracks the door open, just enough to poke his head in. his hoodie’s a little wrinkled. his hair’s messy. he looks like he hasn’t slept.

“can we talk?”

you nod, too fast. “yeah.”

he steps inside and shuts the door behind him.

the room goes quiet again.

he doesn’t sit at first. just stands there, eyes flicking around like he’s stalling.

you shift a little on the bed, pulling your knees to your chest.

“eveything 'kay?” you ask, just above a whisper.

he breathes out slowly, nodding once before answering.

“i don’t want you to move out.” he bluntly lets out.

you blink.

your stomach flips, and not in a subtle way.

he finally sits, down on the edge of your bed, his hands clasped together between his knees. he doesn’t look at you yet, just down at the floor like the words are still forming.

“i don’t know what changed. i just know it’s been different for a while now. and i’ve been trying not to ruin it by saying something. but i feel like i already ruined it by not saying anything at all.” he rants.

your heart is pounding so hard it’s dizzying.

“you didn’t ruin anything,” you say, voice shaking.

he glances up. meets your eyes. “then why were you gonna leave?”

you swallow. look down.

“because i didn’t know if you felt it too,” you say softly. “and staying here, pretending like i wasn’t completely out of my mind and in love with you, was getting harder every day.” you spit out,

the silence hits all at once.

you don’t mean to say it like that. not that raw. not that direct. but it’s out now, your words floating between you and hamzah, and you can’t take it back.

his eyes are wide. lips slightly parted. like he’s frozen mid-thought.

you let out a shaky breath.

“holy shit- i'm so sorry,” you mutter. “i didn’t mean to-”

“you’re in love with me?”

your chest caves in a little.

but you nod anyway.

“yeah.”

for a moment, you think he might not say anything at all, and just leave and never talk to you again.

but then he moves.

closer.

slowly.

his voice drops lower than you’ve ever heard it before.

“i’ve been in love with you since the night we split a bottle of wine on the kitchen floor and you made me laugh so hard i cried.”

you blink.

“you remember that?”

“i remember everything.”

your heart is fully gone at this point.

he’s closer now, knee pressed against yours, gaze never leaving your face.

“can i kiss you?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

you nod, instantly, breath catching.

“please.”

and then he does.

it’s slow. careful. not hesitant, just deliberate, like he wants to remember every second of it.

his hand cradles your jaw, fingers feather-light, and your lips slot together like they’ve been trying to find their way back for years.

you melt into it without thinking. one hand gripped onto his hair, the other pressed to his chest where his heart is hammering just like yours.

when he pulls back, barely an inch away, his forehead rests against yours.

“so,” he murmurs, “does this mean you’re staying?”

you laugh, breathless.

“yeah,” you whisper. “i’m stuck”

he grins. presses another kiss to your mouth, quicker this time, more certain.

you fall asleep that night curled into him, limbs tangled, hearts finally quiet.

and this time, when he says goodnight, it’s whispered against your hair with a smile.

WE’RE SOOO BACK

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[giuliannna]

BACK TO THE BASICS | PT 2

no matter how hard you try - you always let hamzah back in

contains : ex bf hamzah !! approx 2.5k word count

read part one here

your phone screen glares back at you, bright and punishing against the dark parking lot.

9:48 PM.

no messages, no missed calls. you simply stare at the last text of the empty conversation that took place earlier between you and the man you weren’t even that interested in to begin with.

you tug open your car door, sliding yourself into the driver’s seat. you sit there, feeling stupid.

you’d spent hours getting ready. did your hair, your makeup, you even slipped into your favorite dress that clings to your body in all the right places.

all for what?

to be left sitting alone at the overpriced restaurant your date had suggested, sipping on the wine you ordered as a distraction - only for the dark red blend to somehow make the humiliation settle deeper?

you could go home. wash the makeup off, change into your pajamas, wrap yourself in the comfortable familiarity of your bed, and pretend this never happened.

instead of going in the direction of your home when you pull out of the parking lot, you make a sharp turn at the last minute - and drive straight to hamzah’s.

you don’t even hesitate when you reach his door, even though you really should. you should take a second to think, at least, to remind yourself why this is a bad idea, to remember that nothing good ever occurs as a result of being around him for too long.

you don’t think. you just knock.

a few beats pass before the door swings open, revealing hamzah in sweatpants and a hoodie. his curls are messy, and he’s slightly squinting his eyes like he’d just woken up.

he blinks. then, his gaze drags over you. slowly.

so slow, it feels like his line of view is the blade of a knife dragging down your skin.

your dress, your hair - the way you look standing in his doorway at almost 10 PM, with something utterly agitated yet vulnerable brewing behind your eyes.

his lips twitch into a smug, lazy grin. “damn,” he murmurs, leaning against the doorframe, just like last time, when he was in your position, at your doorstep. “you look good.”

you exhale sharply, pushing past him into his apartment before you can second-guess yourself. “shut up.”

hamzah watches as you storm into his apartment, his smirk deepening.

“oh, i already know something happened.” he muses, shutting the door and turning toward you. he crosses his arms over his chest, looking thoroughly entertained. “what was it? date didn’t go well? was there even a date at all?”

your jaw tightens.

hamzah laughs. “ohhh,” he drags out, his voice sounding smug. “that’s it, huh? y’got stood up?”

you glare at him, frustration bubbling up within your body. “i swear, if you say one more thing, i-”

“what?” he interrupts, stepping closer. he tilts his head, almost like he’s taunting you. “you’ll leave?”

you won’t. you both know that you won’t.

after a moment, his voice dips, softer now. “tell me why you’re really here.”

you clench your fists. you should lie - tell him you needed a drive to clear your head, and this just happened to be the first place you thought of.

hamzah steps even closer, close enough that you can smell him, warm and familiar. his fingers begin grazing the hem of your dress. his gaze slowly drops down to your body before flicking back up to your eyes.

“y’got all dressed up for another guy,” he murmurs, his thumb barely brushing against your leg. “but now you’re here.” he says it like he’s mulling over a new fact he’s just learned. he’s trying to make the situation more clear to him, contemplating how he should deal with you.

your pulse pounds.

you don’t say anything, you don’t need to - because his fingers are already slipping upwards under your dress, dragging slow and lazy circles into your bare thigh.

hamzah scrutinizes you. his eyes drag over your face. he notices the way your breath hitches, even though you swear you’re keeping it steady.

“c’mere.” he murmurs, sounding awfully sure of himself.

you take that singular step forward. his hands are on you immediately - gripping your hips, pulling you in and pressing you flush against him.

your hands slide up his chest, curling into the fabric of his hoodie. “you’re annoying.”

hamzah exhales a quiet laugh, his fingers flexing into your skin. “but you still came over.”

you don’t get the chance to reply - his mouth is on yours before you can even take a breath.

the kiss is deep instantly, no build-up, no hesitation. not this time.

his lips capture you while his hands slide the straps of your dress off your shoulders, tugging the fabric down and letting it pool on the floor.

his fingers trail across your skin, gripping the backs of your thighs, and before you can even process it, he’s lifting you and carrying you toward the couch.

your back barely hits the cushions before he’s on you again, his weight pressing you down, his breath fanning out against your jaw.

“you ever gonna tell me why you actually came?” he asks smugly, his mouth grazing your skin.

“shut up,” you mutter, cheeks flushed as you try to deny him the satisfaction of knowing you just had to see him. after getting upset, your mind and body instinctively threw you headfirst back into his grasp.

you’ve let him back in. again. you crawled right back to him, actually. you should feel pathetic, ashamed, but.. hamzah’s hands are already pushing your thighs apart, setting the pace like he knows how this ends.

and you let him. you let him drag his lips down your neck, let him press his weight against you, let his fingers skim higher and higher.

why? because you got stood up. because you spent hours getting ready just to be left waiting. because no one has ever known exactly how to handle you. not like he does.

and, because this was always going to happen, anyway. it was inevitable from the moment you two broke up; it was always clear that it wouldn’t be the end.

hamzah groans as his fingers find you, pressing against the heat between your legs, the thin fabric of your thong useless against his touch. “shit,” he mutters, exhaling sharply. “you’re already so-”

you don’t let him finish that sentence. you’re humiliated enough. you grip his hoodie and yank it over his head, tossing it aside before reaching for his sweatpants.

he lets out a low, breathless laugh. “impatient, huh?”

you don’t answer. you just shove his sweats down, his boxers with them, and - fuck.

it’s been so long since you’ve had him like this.

the sight of him, hard and ready for you, makes all kinds of memories come rushing back into your mind.

hamzah watches your expression shift. “say it,” he murmurs, his voice rougher now. “say you want it.”

your jaw clenches. you know he loves this - he always loves making you admit things, loves forcing the words out of your mouth like he needs to hear it to believe it.

your fingers trail up his stomach, slow and teasing. “you already know i do.”

before you can get another word out, his hands grip the backs of your knees, pushing them up, spreading you open beneath him.

“fuck,” he mutters. “i shouldn’t be doin’ this.”

his actions wholeheartedly contradict his words when he begins lining himself up, dragging the head of his cock against your soaked entrance, teasing, pressing against you.

the same words echo around in your brain, repeating like a mantra. you shouldn’t be doing this. he shouldn’t be doing this. we shouldn’t be doing this.

you don’t care if it’s a bad idea. not in the moment, at least. you might - no, you’ll definitely regret this later.

but for now, you don’t care if it isn’t the right choice, because your soul is screaming his name.

“i know,” you breathe out. “but - please do it anyway.”

that’s all he needs to hear. with a quick tug on your underwear to rip the fabric down and off your legs, he sinks in.

your whole body tenses as he fills you, stretching you open, settling so deep it knocks the air from your lungs. your ankles hook around his waist, pulling him in.

hamzah groans, gripping your thighs tighter, tipping forward to press his forehead against yours. “fuckin’..” he swears under his breath. “you feel - shit.”

your nails dig into his arms, a whiny plea escaping your lips. “move.”

he exhales sharply, his lips dragging against your cheek. “you sure?” his voice is teasing, but his grip is trembling with pent up desire.

you roll your hips, forcing him deeper, and he chokes on his next breath.

something changes in his demeanor.

hamzah’s fingers tighten around your thighs, and before you can even catch your breath, he pulls back and slams in, forcing a broken gasp from your lips.

“s’that what you wanted?” he taunts. his voice is rough, thick with something dangerous. his blunt nails dig into your skin as he begins to fuck into you, hard, like he’s trying to stamp himself back onto you - on your body, your memory, your soul.

your head falls back, a desperate moan tumbling from your mouth. “hamzah..”

“nah, don’t - don’t fuckin’ say my name like that..” he chokes out, his hands grabbing at your waist, your ribs, your throat. anywhere he can touch.

the sound of his name, in your beautiful and breathless voice, makes his pace turn brutal, like he just can’t handle this anymore.

like this is breaking him just as much as it’s breaking you.

“you.. you’re drivin’ me insane here,” he grits out between clenched teeth, his forehead pressing to yours, sweat sticking your skin together.

you don’t even have it in you to respond, not when he’s fucking you like this, pounding into you like he’s trying to fix something inside himself.

your moans pitch higher, your legs trembling where they’re wrapped around him. “f-fuck, hamzah, m’gonna-”

hamzah’s hand clamps over your mouth. “shh,” he hushes you, his cock twitching inside you. “just shut the fuck up and take it. i know you can.”

the way he says it, harsh and commanding - it’s just a sign that he’s grappling with the situation already. your body is taking a toll as well, you can feel your built-up orgasm tugging at your insides, pushing to the brink of something ruining.

he thrusts slow, deep, making you feel every inch of him. “knew we’d end up like this. always do.” he whispers shakily, and you can’t quite tell what emotion he’s tucking away behind those words.

hamzah moves harder, deeper, keeping his hand firm over your mouth, muffling the broken sounds being torn from your throat. his other hand pins your hips down, making sure you take every devastating thrust in its entirety.

“y’feel that?” he asks breathily. he drags his cock out, slow, until just the tip is pressing into you - then slams back in, burying himself to the hilt. “that’s what you fuckin’ came here for, huh?”

your nails scrape down his back, leaving angry red lines, a moan breaking out from his throat. a filthy, shameless sound. he starts trembling from the way your walls tighten around him.

you’re both spiraling. your body writhes and twists beneath him. heat crawls up your spine and coils in your stomach.

hamzah’s hand slides off your mouth, but before you can even take a breath, he’s gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

“y’gonna cum for me, baby?” he rasps, eyes his eyes carrying a dark and somewhat desperate look. his thumb swipes over your swollen lips, watching the way your mouth parts around a helpless whimper.

you nod, nearly sobbing. your hips lift, chasing him, but his hands grab your waist, pushing you back down. your body is begging for release, every nerve is burning.

“good girl,” he breathes. “fuckin’.. god, just give it to me.”

he’s quickly pounding into you again, chasing his own high, dragging you down with him.

everything absolutely shatters. your orgasm rips through you, and hamzah’s right there to fuck you through it. his thrusts turn sloppy and erratic, his jaw hanging slack as he finally lets go, spilling inside you with a guttural moan.

for just a few seconds, things are quiet. peaceful and still. almost like you’re understanding each other, connected with one another, just like how you used to be.

right before reality crashes down on both of you.

hamzah pulls out too fast. you shudder at the loss, at the way his cum drips out of you, humiliatingly warm against your thighs. he sits back on his heels, running a hand through his messy curls.

you don’t move. you just watch as his expression shifts, like every realization is hitting him all at once.

his hands drag down his face. “this is so fucked up.”

your stomach churns. you knew this was coming, of course you did - and you still let it run its course anyway.

“then why do you keep letting it happen?” you voice is quiet, raw and tired from all the moaning and whining you did for him.

hamzah snaps his gaze to yours, and it’s different now. the lust is gone.

“i don’t fucking know,” he mutters. “guess i’m just as pathetic as you.”

pathetic.

there it is. the type of words that lit the first flame of the dumpster fire of a dynamic you two have created. the way of speaking that began to split your relationship up in the first place.

you push yourself up on shaky arms, blinking at him, trying to ignore the sting behind your eyes. “you’re such an asshole,” you whisper.

hamzah just laughs, humorlessly. “but you’re still the one who showed up at my fuckin’ door.”

a silence hangs in the air. hamzah’s lips twitch like he’s debating his next words.

you know what he wants to say, and you beat him to it.

“i hate you.”

it comes out too soft, too breathless, too wrong for what it’s supposed to mean. you don’t sound like you hate him, because you don’t. not at all.

it’s a lie. a cruel and desperate one at that. but, maybe if you say it enough, you’ll start to believe it to be true.

just maybe, if you keep lying to him and yourself like that - one day it’ll actually mean something.

a slow, lazy smirk spreads across hamzah’s lips.

“no, you don’t.” he murmurs.

you should say something back. you should correct him, roll your eyes, push him away, anything.

but you can’t. because you don’t hate him, you hate this. the entire situation. you hate how good it feels, you hate that it keeps happening.

you hate that you already know it’ll happen again.

hamzah knows it, too.

a/n: i hope this is a fulfilling part two, thank you to everyone who requested it (: also i hope it’s not too long and / or boring. love u !!

xoxo giulia

[clouji]

Don't get high with Hamzah. He will strip you naked.

+ fwb!hamzah x reader, smoking weed, drinking, making out

“Y/N why is this couch shaped like a L but feels like a circle?”Martin laughs as he sits across two pillows, a beer in one hand and his socks half-off.

Hamzah breathes from the opposite end, a vape pen attached to his fingertips. “That's how you know it's a good living room. Everyone ends up touching their knees, no matter they like it or not.”

You laughed, sitting crossed legs on the floor, back against the couch, sipping just juice with a splash of vodka. Claire texting between sips of her drink. Mandy is next to her, wrapped up with Martin like a cat.

And of course, Chase is in the kitchen arguing with the air fryer.

“I'm still laughing about what Hamzah and I did few days ago,” Martin says, chuckling.

Mandy answers. “What happened?.”

Hamzah just sighs, eyes low. He already knows where this is going.

Martin jabs a finger toward him. “All I gotta say is, Don't get high with Hamzah. He will strip you naked.”

Everyone laughs.

Even Claire drops her phone. “I knew something happened!”

“Bro you're making it sound weird,” Hamzah says, without even denying it.

“It's not my fault people like Martin can't handle my aura.”

You keep your face blank. Sips your drink.

You shouldn't be thinking on what happened that night. Or every other night. Or the times it didn’t even need weed. Just one look, a single touch of his hand when no one was looking.

Martin’s still talking. Something about how he ended up in just his boxers watching Love Island with Mandy at 2am. Everyone’s laughing.

Except you.

And Hamzah.

You felt his eyes on you–quick, tense, and gone like it had never happened.

You knew it too well. The kind of knowing that burned under skin and behind closed doors.

⏭️

Everyone's about to leave. Claire and Mandy saying their goodbyes to the cats. Martin drags Chase out of the kitchen, still mid-rant about his overcooked fries. Hamzah stayed like he's just the helpful friend staying to clean up.

Which he is...... kind of.

Hamzah throws a pillow back onto the couch and kicks his feet up as if the party had never stopped.

“Wanna see something crazy?” he says.

You raise a brow. “If that's some stupid shit Hamzah, You're leaving.”

He smiled, reaching something on his pocket and pulling out a half-used joint in a crusty Altoids tin. "Look what Martin and I didn't finish."

You laugh. “So you just have it with you the whole time and didn't say anything?.”

“But I wanted to smoke with you,” he says, “so let's finish it.”

You roll your eyes, but take a hit when he hands it to you. The smoke is nice and warm, quickly taking into your body. He's already leaning back and exhaling like if it's some kind of spiritual experience.

“You really stripped that man on 4/20?” you ask, laughing.

Hamzah chuckles. “He said he was hot. I said prove it."

“Dumbass.”

He smiles at you, lazy. “You scared I’ll try it on you?”

You start to cough a little. "I am not scared. You'd have to earn it."

“Oh word?” he says, puts down the joint into a nearby cup.

And then he moves closer.

Not too much. Just enough, his leg brushing yours, his hand ghosting along your collarbone, every movement tight with the things he couldn’t say. He craved you, and it was killing him to pretend he didn’t.

“Prove it,” you say.

He leans in slowly, as if everything is still a joke. But when his lips meet yours warm and slow—it feels like a stab to your chest.

The kiss starts soft.

It doesn't stay that way.

Your legs twitch. His hand slips gently to your waist. You pull off his hoodie, and he smiles gently against your mouth.

“Still not scared?” he murmurs, lips brushing your mandible.

“Shut up,” you responded back, grabbing him again.

His hoodie slips off. Yours comes next. Nothing special. You already know how this works. He throws your shirt off. The tips of his fingers trace the border of your waistband

The smoke still swirls in the air. Everything still smells like weed, perfume, and snacks.

His mouth meets yours again. Impatient. A bit familiar.

This is how it has always been–hot, hungry, and temporary.

Nobody knows about this.

And that is the fun of it.

[slushynoobzbias]

[bluntzah]

COME & SEE ME FOR ONCE ੈ♡˳

♫ sza — 2AM. nav ; m.list.

word count. 1.9k

warnings. mentions of unhealthy relationships, sexual + graphic content, please review all warnings before proceeding. i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage or interact with.

summary. you support hamzah’s media hustle, but his constant absence hurts. when he leaves again mid-fuck, you’re left wondering if love is enough when you always come last to this motherfucker.

Your boyfriend is a busy man. Hamzah dedicates a lot of his time to filming for YouTube, constantly creating content, brainstorming ideas, and bringing them to life. From the beginning, you knew what you were signing up for. He made it clear that he takes his YouTube career seriously. Of course you supported it. You always backed Hamzah in whatever he chose to do: if he likes it, you loved it. That was all that mattered to you.

There was never a moment you didn’t have Hamzah’s back. No matter what he needed, you were there. If he ever forgot something important: whether at your place or his: off filming something with Mandy and Martin, you’d step in without hesitation. Sometimes that meant driving across town in the middle of your own busy day, retracing his steps to find whatever he left behind. Other times, it meant calling in a favor from a friend, asking them to go out of their way just to make sure he had what he needed to keep filming.

You supported your boyfriend more than anything in the world. His passion, his grind: you admired it, stood by that shit alongside him, never ever asked him to slow down. But that didn’t mean his absence didn’t sting sometimes.

On nights out with your girlfriends: dressed up, laughing, dancing at the club — you’d catch their boyfriends with them. Arms wrapped around their waists, sharing drinks, stealing kisses between freaky ass songs.

And then there was you sipping your drink alone, smiling through it, but feeling disappointed. Not because you doubted his love, but because you wished, once in a fuckin’ blue moon, he had the time to be there. To pull you close, to make memories outside of his hustle.

You knew exactly what you were signing up for: he made it clear from the start. And you accepted it, with your chest. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt sometimes, even just a little. That being said, every moment you do get with him, you hold onto like it’s gold. Just like now, this moment you’re in, making it count.

It’s a Saturday. You’re beneath Hamzah in his warm sheets, his body pressed close in missionary. Each deep thrust has his cock sliding in and out of you, your squishy walls gripping him greedily.

You love every second of it. After a long week of barely seeing your boyfriend, with him pulled in every direction but yours, having him this close making you feel so good feels like oxygen. So you take full advantage: hooking one leg around his waist, your heel pressing into his lower back, urging him so much deeper.

“Mm—missed you so much… missed your cock so bad,” you breathe out, lips parted and trembling. Your hand finds Hamzah’s, the one wrapped around your throat, and you guide it downward, over your collarbone, until it cups your breast.

“Work, baby… y’know that,” Hamzah murmurs, he gently brushes a strand of hair from your face. Needing nothing in the way of your beauty, needing to see the way your eyes slowly go cross from how good he’s making you feel. Especially after a week without him inside you — it had been pure torture.

“I know…” you whimper, hips rolling up in a desperate plea for more. “Just miss you. Feels like we’re never this close anymore…” You’re not sure if it’s the way you’re so drunk on his dick or the raw honesty slipping from your lips, but something in your voice makes Hamzah pause. His thrusts slow, then stop completely, buried deep inside you.

He went unmoving for a minute — clearly caught in some thought. You were just about to ask what was on his mind when, without a breath, he moved. He flipped the two of you over, his back hitting the mattress, and you landing on top. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you, positioning you exactly where he wanted.

“What…” you start to ask, but he cuts you off with action instead of words. His cock presses against your soaked folds, lining himself up before guiding you down onto him. You don’t resist at all, clutching his shoulders, the muscle of his meat beneath your fingers as you slowly sink onto him, taking him in, the stretch as delicious as the way he fills you.

He was stretching you so deeply, that your head began to fall against his shoulder, a soft moan running out your lips. “Nah, don’t drift,” he murmured, wrapping an arm tighter around your waist. “You just said we’re never this close… and you’re right. So let me feel you all close like this.”

You lifted your head, only for him to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. The kind of hug you’d normally hate from anyone else, the kind that made you feel caged. But with Hamzah, in this angle, it felt different. His tip brushed your g-spot just right, making you shiver.

He fucked up into you, syncing his thrusts with your bounces. Yes, yes, yes. You needed this so desperately, especially after the week you’d had. The way he hit that perfect spot perfectly sent a spurt of euphoria through you, as the pleasure made your eye twitch shut. You missed this, missed him. Missed the way your bodies fit so perfectly as he moved inside you, hitting every spot just right. Even his soft whimpers, those deep moans had you seeing stars: they were incredibly sexy.

You’d been craving this, aching shitless for it. That beautiful heat between you was everything… until Hamzah’s phone rang from the desk: it began buzzing once. He didn’t move. You opened your mouth to ask, but he silenced you with a kiss, his hand sliding up to pinch your breast just right, drawing a soft gasp from your lips he swallowed whole.

The second time it rang, your eyes flicked toward it again. Hamzah gently turned your face back to him, brushing your jaw. Focus on him. On how good he was making you feel. And you did — rolling your hips to meet his, lips parted as dirty moans slipped through your teeth.

By the third ring, your patience cracked. “Just answer the fuckin’ call,” you muttered, frustrated as you lifted yourself off him and swung your legs over the bed.

It’s not that you wanted to be a bitch for the fuck of it, but you seen the way his phone, and that call, started to circle his mind. That was the whole reason you kept looking over, because his lifting of his hips into you slowed and he started to dissociate slightly. You rather him take the damn call than think of something else while he’s inside you. You’re not fuckin’ with it.

If it’s on his mind that much, then let him take the damn call. The fact that he doesn’t even protest just proves your point even more.

You started slipping on your panties, one foot through the hole after the other. Hamzah grabbed his phone, sliding his thumb across the screen to accept the call, bringing it to his ear. One hand rested on his hip, his bare ass cheeks and back turned toward you.

You grabbed Hamzah’s old shirt and slipped it on, not bothering with a bra. This was your boyfriend’s house, and the only company besides you was him and his cats.

Hamzah kept talking on the phone, brown eyes moving to you every few seconds. He held the phone between his ear and shoulder as he peeled off the condom, tossed it in the trash, and reached for the boxers he’d flung on the edge of the bed. “Yeah, I’ll be there in like five or six minutes,” he said, slipping them on.

You almost wanted to roll your eyes: of course the one rare moment you two had alone had to be interrupted.

A voice was heard on the other end, followed by the sound of clicking. Hamzah set his phone down on the bed, grabbing his pants and stepping into them. “I’ll make it up to you soon, baby—swear on my life,” he said with guilt. “Martin lost some footage for a video due in a few days, and we’ve got to reshoot it.”

He pulled on his socks, then slid into his shoes as he sat at the edge of the bed. You moved toward him until you were right behind him. Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck, then another, and another.

He let himself melt into you, leaning into the presses of your lips as they brushed over his skin. A tickle went through him when you kissed just over his pulse, the spot so sensitive it made him tilt his head. His nose brushed yours before he moved closer, until his mouth found your bottom lip, catching it between his own and giving it a suck before releasing it with a pull.

“I’ll make it up to you. Promise.” he repeated, but deep down, you knew he wouldn’t. The cycle would just keep repeating itself. He couldn’t even give you a full hour before something or someone else pulled him away. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, not by far. It had been the routine most of the times you two had been together. It was frustrating.

“You aren’t.” You said. Hamzah blinked a couple of times, clearly confused. “What?” he asked, and this time, you almost wanted to shout it at him. You were sure you talked clearly with no stutter.

“I said.” You take a deep breath. “You aren’t. You aren’t gonna make shit up. This is like, what? The hundredth time this happened? You and Martin just film shit and don’t save it or something?” You know this is going to annoy him. He’s told you many times what he does for work and what packages come with it. But it’s just so frustrating to stay silent.

“Don’t start with that,” Hamzah muttered as he grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. “I told you—” But you cut him off, already knowing what was coming next. “Yes, I know, you warned me about what I was getting into,” you rolled your eyes. “But it’s so hard when I just want to spend time with my boyfriend, and he’s always caught up with something. Or when we finally do get time together, it feels half assed. What, Martin gives you an hour to push your dick inside me, and then it’s straight back to filming?”

When you finally stopped talking, you let out a quiet huff, arms crossing over your chest out of instinct. “Are you done?” Hamzah asked, clearly referring to your rant. The way he said it made your blood boil even more: like he wasn’t taking a single word you said seriously.

You rolled your eyes and looked away. It always felt like he wasn’t really listening: your words going in one ear and right out the other.

When he leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, mumbling a casual “Bye, babe,” you didn’t say a word. You didn’t even glance at him. The only sound was the jingle of his keys as he walked out the door, leaving you there, barely covered in his shirt, lying alone in his bed, while he just… left.

[esotericbluntbaby]

compensation

hamzahthefantastic x reader

description: going against your wishes, your boyfriend decides to fight another match after spraining his wrist the last time he boxed. injured, he returns home to his girlfriend, who can't help but feel more than just "angry."

mentions: boxer!hamzah, bf!hamzah, angsttt, female reader, sub! hamzah, blood, bruises, nsfw!

GUYS IM SORRY I FORGOT TO POST THIS PLS DONT KILL ME

--

this was the first time that hamzah kept you in the dark, betraying your trust in him.

he was always a strong-willed, passionate boy; in fact, it was one of the things you found attractive in him. he kickstarted his youtube with his resilience and determination. giving up was simply not an option for him; one way or another, plan after plan, he'd get his goal even if it meant he had to cut off his limbs and sell them. if hamzah wanted something, he would get it, similar to a horse kicking whenever it's being restrained. though, normally, he knew when to stop pushing, especially when the cost was more than the benefit.

the last time hamzah boxed, his wrist fractured like a 6 year old cracks a wishbone. you, obviously, knew that getting hurt was apart of his hobby; you didn't like it, but you accepted that it was inevitable for some part of him to be banged up and broken. he allowed you to stay in the hospital with him during the time he was getting monitored, meaning that you were allowed to hear the doctor tell him that he had to wait 6 weeks to box again.

during the hospital visit, hamzah realized he had a match in exactly 5 weeks. you argued with him, telling him that there would be no way in hell that he'd be able to box until his wrist is fixed. of course, being as stubborn as a mule, hamzah argued back that he had to fight if his life depended on it. eventually, the night settled in as you laid in bed together that night, cuddling; he told you that you were right. reassuring you that he wouldn't be fighting, he kissed you goodnight. you thought you wouldn't have to worry about it anymore.

that was, until tonight, an hour after the match: when hamzah walked in the front door, bloody and bruised.

his eye began to swell, darkening around the indents of his skull. the black eye that adorned his face was accompanied by a deep gash that exposed the layer beneath his skin. he looked at you with guilt plastered in his banged up face, furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips being muted by the extent of his injuries. you didn't have to guess where he was: you felt betrayed by the fact that you knew exactly what he went out to do. alongside his injuries and deception, came a girlfriend who wasn't going to speak to him.

--

not a single word was said when you grabbed his other wrist and walked to the bathroom with him; the room was filled with silence and guilt radiating off of him. he was currently sitting on the toilet seat as you rummaged around the medicine cabinet for materials that would help you fix his wounds. though you were upset, you weren't going to leave him to tend to his own injuries; you were still his girlfriend, after all. sitting on the floor, you grabbed his wrist to check how worsened it became.

"baby-"

"no, hamzah."

from your previous arguments, you knew that hamzah has a habit of overloading you with pet names. he knew he fucked up; you know he fucked up. him starting his sentence with "baby" helped you realize that he knew he's in the doghouse.

taking the textured, cotton gauze, you began to wrap his wrist with a softness that foiled your emotions towards him. you felt his eyes trained on you like the aimbot of a video game; his gazed fixated on every single movement you made. he noticed the way that you still looked so pretty even when you were mad at him. the way your face looked, tensed and full of agitation, created a pool of guilt that he swam in. he hated making you upset, but he simply needed to box. it was passion. it was commitment. he had to do it; at least, that's what he was telling himself. however, no matter how much he told himself that he had to fight, he knew it was wrong of him to go against your wishes and back. he knew you wanted the best for him and his physical being.

"i'm sorry. i shouldn't have gone tonight. i was being stupid and i shouldn't have went behind your back like that."

you listened to him apologize, yet, didn't respond. in fact, you didn't even look at him. there was no acknowledgement of his apology; it was almost like it never even happened in the first place. he needed to know how truly upset you were. instead, you focused on wrapping his wrist with a second layer of gauze, to keep everything in place.

"baby, please. just talk to me- i don't care if you cuss me out or give me hell for betraying you like that, just- please talk to me," his mannerisms were tense and rushed, "how do i fix this? how do i get you to speak to me? i'll do anything- i swear- you want me to quit boxing completely? i will. you want me to do all the housework in this house? i will- i'll do every single chore. shit, if even just sitting in a corner for days with no food or water would get you to speak to me, i'd do that. please, baby- please."

you finished wrapping the gauze by the time he finished his speech about what he'd do to get you to speak to him. you began to touch his face, examining the bruise on his eye and cheekbone like a scientist looking through a microscope. suddenly, he grabbed you by the cheek, forcing you to look up at him.

"i'm sorry. please, just speak to me. i'll do anything. talk to me. i just wanna hear your voice."

listening to him yearn for your voice made you feel a certain type of way. yes, you were mad. however, in a way, this whole situation was turning you on. you hated to admit it, but your boyfriend looked attractive with a black eye and bruised cheekbone. the fact that he was begging for you to speak to him made the sexual tension you were feeling within you even worse. his submissive side was creating a potion of ecstasy in your stomach; you wanted to see how far he'd go.

you sighed, "i don't know anymore, hamzah. you told me you wouldn't. i trust you less."

"i know, pretty, i'm sorry. i'll earn it back, i promise. i shouldn't have gone tonight. i was being an idiot."

standing up as his face followed where your eyes were, you rubbed it against his open wound, earning a wince from him as he gripped onto your waist. butterflies emerged in your stomach, causing you to feel similar to how light a fairy is.

"thanks for the warning," he said with sarcasm and irritation laced in his voice, opening his eyes from the hard shut he indulged in

"you don't deserve one."

he pulled you onto his lap, causing you to straddle him on the toilet seat. taking your cheeks, he cupped your face in his hands and sighed. he looked at you with a level of submissiveness you haven't seen in him. normally, hamzah was the dominant one; yet, you didn't mind that the roles switched.

"what can i do to get you to not be mad at me?"

"i dunno. you're a smart boy," you grabbed his cheek and stroked it with your thumb, "figure it out, baby."

you saw a lightbulb flicker on in his eyes. he sensed the tension in the room wasn't only angry, but there was also sexual tension in its silver lining.

"you want me to make it up to you?"

you leaned towards his ear, now whispering, "how are you gonna do that, hamzah?"

you felt something poke at your ass from beneath you, a slight twitch emerging from it too. your words made him as hard as a rock.

that's so fucking hot.

"baby, i thought you were mad at me."

"oh, i am. trust me, i'm fucking pissed."

he kissed you on the cheek, "i'm sorry."

he kissed you on the jawline, "i'm sorry."

he kissed you on the lips, "i'm sorry."

moving down to your neck, he kissed it longer than the pecks he gave you previously. you felt a sucking motion, as well as his tongue swirling on your sweet spot, shortly after. your breath got heavier, almost as if your lungs were being weighed down by hot air. your lips parted as he sucked a dark spot onto your neck.

"i'm sorry, pretty girl. forgive me?"

"not yet."

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "why not?"

"i need more than that."

"tell me what you need, pretty. i'll do it."

you leaned closer to his ear, kissing his neck and the area between, "you know what i want from you."

standing up from the toilet seat, your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you to your bedroom. your lips began to intertwine with his as he walked through the hallway, your tongues melting together like two lollipops on a hot day. he laid you down on the bed, still kissing you with everything he had; he needs you to forgive him.

letting go of your lips, he moved closer to the edge of the bed, taking off your shorts and leaving you in your underwear. feeling exposed in front of hamzah was always nerveracking in your own way; however, this time it was different. you knew hamzah had to please you, leaving you with a newfound confidence.

"are you okay with this?" he asked, exhibiting a level of care that you were all too familiar with.

"do whatever you want to me, hamzah."

taking your underwear off, you were left laying on top of your sheets in a tank top. his arms wrapped around your legs like a snake to its prey, prying your legs apart with a sense of desperation.

"you're so pretty like this baby," he kissed the inner part of your thigh, "you're so fucking pretty."

he spit on the area between your legs, earning a subtle gasp from you. his tongue began to lap on you, dropping saliva on the area of you that was already wet. between your legs, you felt the roughness and neediness of his tongue. his hands squeezed your inner thighs as pleasure began to unravel the metaphoric yarn located in your stomach. hamzah was eating the fuck out of you, leading to your moans getting louder and louder with each and every movement his tongue created against you.

his tongue produced a dance that only the both of you would know. some parts were as fast as light, while other ones were full of yearning and slowness; he knew exactly how to balance it for you to feel the best that you could feel.

your hands made its way to his hair, "you're so pretty like this, hamzah. my boy- my pretty boy."

his movements got faster as his grip against your thighs tightened even more, as if you were going to fly away if he let go. similar to his hands, you squeezed his hair as his movements quickened in pace; you could feel the yarn unraveling like a rubber band about to snap.

"f-fuck- hamzah, i'm close-"

he kissed your core, before his tongue sped to a pace you haven't felt before. you watched him eat you out like there was no tomorrow, leaving loud moans echoing the room, before he felt you release into his mouth. kissing it once again, he looked up at you as his hands massaged the pillows that he was in between. you looked at each other with love while he watched your heavy breathing and fucked-out expression.

"forgive me?"

"i forgive you. please go box someone else, baby."

confusion was apparent in his face, "what?"

"you're so fucking hot when you're bruised and yearning."

--

author's note!

this is so short omfg i hate using anatomical words for smut LOL more coming soon!

[guliexe]

━━━HOTEL VLOG 18+

Hamzah x Female!Reader

.ᐟwarnings/tags: hotel vlog, soft dom!hamzah, friends to lovers, pent up tension, making out, nipple sucking, oral (f receiving), kinda orgasm denial??, dirty talk, unprotected sex, p in v, praise, creampie, fluff, aftercare

♡ you go to a 5 star hotel with mandy, martin and hamzah for a vlog. hamzah can’t stop thinking about you and you eventually fuck!

.ᐟw/c: 4.6k

It was Martin’s idea to bring everyone to this huge five-star hotel for a vlog, including you. You had become friends with Martin and Hamzah a few months ago, and they started including you in some of their videos and podcasts.

Stepping into the hotel, you, Martin, Mandy, and Hamzah checked in and made your way to your rooms. The place was even more luxurious than you had imagined—marble floors, chandeliers, and the kind of elegance that made you feel a little out of place. You and Mandy were sharing one room, while the boys had their own.Mandy grinned at you as she tossed her bag onto one of the beds. “This is gonna be so fun! Did you see the pools? they’re insane!” she exclaimed.

“Before you could respond to Mandy, a knock sounded at the door. She swung it open without hesitation, revealing Hamzah leaning lazily against the doorframe, hands in the pockets of his hoodie. "You guys settled in?" he asked, glancing between you and Mandy. "Yep! And we're already planning to hit the pool later," Mandy said, grinning. Hamzah’s gaze flickered to you. “You swimming?” You shrugged. “Maybe. What about you? Are you guys joining us?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll let Martin know.” Then, shifting back into his usual laid-back demeanor, he leaned against the doorframe. “Anyway, Martin wants to start filming soon. Meet us in the lounge in twenty?” Mandy gave him a thumbs-up. "Got it." As soon as he walked off, Mandy turned to you with a knowing look. "You so like him." You scoffed. "Do not." She just grinned. "Sure, sure. And I’m the Queen of England."

After filming wrapped up, the four of you finally made your way down to the pool. The area was stunning—soft lighting, crystal-clear water, and a view of the city skyline beyond the glass walls. You emerged from the changing room in your—kinda tiny bikini—adjusting the straps as you followed Mandy toward the poolside. The water reflected the golden lights, casting rippling patterns across the tiled floor. You glanced up just in time to catch Hamzah’s reaction.

He had been mid-conversation with Martin, but the second his eyes landed on you, his words stalled. His jaw tensed, and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck like he suddenly didn’t know what to do with his hands. Mandy, of course, noticed immediately. She leaned toward you, whispering, “Oh, he so wasn’t ready for that.” You felt your face heat up but ignored her, pretending not to notice the way Hamzah’s gaze kept flickering back to you when he thought you weren’t looking. Martin and Hamzah jumped into the pool, splashing water everywhere. After a minute, you slowly dip into the pool with Mandy, the water was warm as you surfaced, running your hands over your face to wipe away the droplets clinging to your eyes. You pushed your wet hair back, blinking a few times to adjust to the pool lights.

Hamzah was talking to Martin about something, but the second you surfaced, his words completely died in his throat. His gaze flickered to you, just for a second, but it was enough to make his pulse stutter. His eyes traced the way your wet hair clung to your neck and collarbone, the way droplets of water slid down your skin, disappearing beneath the fabric of your bikini. And that damn bikini, so tight on you, wasn’t doing him any favours. It hugged your curves perfectly, molding to your body.

He leaned back against the pool’s edge, stretching an arm over the ledge like he couldn’t care less. But his fingers curled slightly, a small betrayal of the heat creeping under his skin. Mandy, ofcourse, smirked. “Hamzah, you good? You look kinda—flustered.” He exhaled through his nose, side-eyeing my Mandy. “It’s a heated pool, Mandy.” "Right," she hummed, clearly not buying it. You arched a brow at him, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "You sure?" Hamzah met your gaze evenly this time, masking any trace of his wandering thoughts. He smirked, easy and practiced. "Why? You worried about me?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes before pushing off the ledge, swimming to the other side with Mandy.

Hamzah finally let out a slow breath, tilting his head back against the pool’s edge. His body still felt warm—too warm—but his expression stayed cool, unreadable. Martin said something, but Hamzah barely registered it, nodding absentmindedly as he dragged a hand through his wet hair. You swam over to Mandy, laughing about something, completely unaware of the effect you were having on him. And maybe that was the worst part—how effortless it was for you. How you weren’t even trying, and yet, here he was, gripping the edge of the pool a little too hard just to keep his thoughts in check.

After a while, Mandy stretched her arms over her head, sighing. “Alright, I’m getting out. My fingers are all wrinkly.”You laughed, glancing down at your own pruned fingertips. “Yeah, same.” Pushing off the pool’s edge, you made your way to the steps, water cascading down your body as you stepped out. The cool air hit your skin, making you shiver slightly as you reached for a towel. His gaze followed the slow trail of water sliding down your back, the way your bikini clung to you, emphasizing everything. He swallowed, shifting his jaw like it would somehow fix the heat creeping into his chest. Martin said something beside him, but Hamzah barely heard it. “You guys coming?” Hamzah cleared his throat, forcing his expression into something neutral. “Yeah, in a bit.” You hummed in acknowledgment, following Mandy toward the lounge chairs to grab your things.

As soon as you walked off, Martin shot Hamzah a knowing look. “You’re staring, bro.” Hamzah scoffed, leaning back against the pool’s edge. “No, I’m not.” Martin smirked. “Sure.” Hamzah rolled his eyes, pushing himself up out of the water in one smooth motion. He reached for his towel, rubbing it through his wet hair before draping it around his shoulders. “We heading up?” Martin grinned. “Yeah. Before you embarrass yourself any further.”

Back in your room, the soft hum of the AC filled the air as you stood in front of the mirror, towel-drying your hair while Mandy rifled through her suitcase. “So,” she said casually, holding up two of her dresses. “Are we going cute or fancy tonight?” You glanced at her reflection in the mirror. “I don’t know, i’m not trying to impress anyone.” She wiggled her brows at you through the mirror. “It’s a fancy ass restaurant Y/N!! Plus, I wasn’t the one getting eye-fucked in the pool.” Your mouth dropped open. “Mandy!” She only laughed, pointing at the silky dress on your bed. “Wear this. You’ll shut Hamzah up real fast.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest, your cheeks already warm.

Hamzah sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the floor like it might help him get his head right. He wasn’t sure why his chest felt tight—wasn’t like this was a date. Just dinner. Just the four of them. Still, he couldn’t shake the heat sitting low in his stomach, the way his thoughts kept circling back to the pool. To you. The knock came sharp and quick. He stood a little too fast, hand already on the door handle before his thoughts could catch up. When he opened it and saw you and Mandy standing there, that tension in his chest pulled tighter. “Hey! We’re ready!” You smiled at him. “Hey…you look good” he said before he could stop himself. “Thanks, you too” your cheeks flushed at his compliment, then suddenly Martin comes at the door. “Right, so let’s go then ladies!”

The elevator ride to the rooftop was quiet. Mandy and Martin chatted about the menu, tossing out guesses on what kind of dishes the place might have. You stood beside Hamzah, close enough that your perfume reached him in waves—sweet, clean, and way too distracting. He didn’t say much, hands tucked into his pockets, jaw relaxed like he was perfectly unbothered. When the doors opened, the rooftop glowed under strings of soft lights, the city skyline glittering around the glass edges of the restaurant. A hostess led you all to a sleek corner table with plush seating and a perfect view. You slid in next to Mandy, leaving the space across from you open—and of course, Hamzah took it. He settled in with one arm draped along the back of Martin’s chair, legs stretched out just enough to brush against yours under the table. If he noticed, he didn’t show it. But he didn’t move either.

The four of you scanned the menus, the quiet clinking of silverware and soft jazz filling the rooftop air. Mandy and Martin had fallen into another back-and-forth about what they were ordering, their conversation light and easy. You chimed in here and there, but your attention kept drifting back to Hamzah, across from you. His eyes weren’t on the menu. They were on you. Only for a second. Then he looked down again, fingers tapping against the glass of water in front of him like he needed to keep them busy.

Under the table, his knee was still pressed lightly against yours. It wasn’t much—barely anything, really—but you could feel the warmth of it. Feel the way neither of you had pulled away. “So,” Mandy said suddenly, eyeing the appetizers, “are we sharing or we just get what we want?” Martin grinned. “I’m starving. I don’t care.” You laughed, glancing at the menu again. “I’m good with sharing.” “I bet you are,” Martin said to you with a smirk. “You always pretend you’re not that hungry and then steal fries.” “That’s a lie,” you said, smiling at him. “It was one fry.” “One, she says” Mandy muttered, nudging you.

While they kept going, you felt it again—that shift. Hamzah’s eyes on you. You looked up to meet them this time. “What?” you asked softly, your voice just above the ambient music.He didn’t smile. Just tilted his head a little. “Nothing.” But there was something in his tone—like whatever he wasn’t saying sat heavy behind his teeth. Your legs shifted under the table, and his knee nudged yours again. This time, it didn’t feel accidental. Your breath caught, but you played it off, busying yourself with the edge of your dress.

The evening had dragged on longer than expected, the dinner filling with casual chatter and jokes, but underneath it all, the energy between you and Hamzah never quite settled. Every stolen glance, every near touch, every time he smirked or looked at you a little too long—it was all too much, too slow, but somehow still not enough. Finally, Martin, who had been quietly sipping his drink all night, let out a loud, drawn-out laugh. “I’m feeling it... I’m definitely feeling it” he slurred, trying to hold himself steady against the back of his chair. Mandy raised an eyebrow. “You good, Martin?” she asked, though it was clear she knew the answer. He swayed slightly before nodding. “Yeah, yeah... I think I need to sleep this one off. Mandy, you’re coming, right?” Mandy rolled her eyes but nodded. “Of course. Come on.”They stood up, and Mandy helped guide a stumbling Martin toward the door. The moment they left, the room fell quieter, and you and Hamzah were left behind. It wasn’t exactly comfortable. There was a pause. The tension between you was intense.

“Well,” you said, shifting in your seat slightly, trying to play it cool. “Guess we should probably head up too.” Hamzah didn’t immediately respond, still leaning back in his chair with a lazy tilt of his head. Then, with an almost lazy smile, he pushed himself to his feet. “Yeah, I guess so. Lead the way.” When you turned to head for the elevator, he followed close behind, but the silence in the hall was thick. The distant sound of your footsteps echoed, and each step made it feel like you were both trying to outrun something you weren’t ready to face. As you reached the elevator, you hit the button. The doors slid open with a soft chime, and the two of you stepped inside. It was cramped, the kind of intimate space where you couldn’t help but be aware of every inch of the other person. The air felt charged, heavy, with neither of you speaking as the doors closed behind you.

You could feel Hamzah standing close beside you, just a few inches away, his presence unmistakable. His gaze flickered toward you briefly, and for a moment, everything seemed to pause. "So," you say, trying to break the silence, your voice coming out a little quieter than you’d meant. "Quite the night, huh?" Hamzah glances over at you, the faintest trace of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Yeah, more than I expected. Martin’s... interesting when he’s had a bit to drink." You let out a small laugh. "I know. He’s a handful." There’s another brief silence. You glance at him, then quickly look away, focusing on the numbers above the door as they tick upward. "You're quiet tonight" you say softly. Hamzah shifts beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. "Just thinking," he murmurs. You raise a brow. “About what?” He hesitates, then shrugs, looking back toward the elevator doors. “You.”

You try to laugh it off, but your voice comes out uneven. “What about me?” He glances at you again, slower this time. “How you looked tonight. How you always look.” You look away, heat rising to your cheeks. The air feels thicker now, harder to breathe. The elevator hums beneath your feet. You can feel how close he is—your arms nearly brushing, his warmth impossible to ignore. “You know” you say after a pause, your voice quieter, “you don’t usually say stuff like that.” Hamzah leans slightly toward you. Not touching—but so close it feels like a touch. “Doesn’t mean I don’t think it.” Your breath catches in your throat, heart thudding against your ribs like it wants out. You glance up at him again—slowly this time—and he’s already looking at you, that half-lidded gaze unreadable but intense. “Why now?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. His lips twitch slightly, but it’s not quite a smile. “Because if I don’t say something tonight, I’m gonna regret it.”Your pulse stutters. The elevator hums softly, rising toward your floor at an infuriatingly slow pace. The air between you vibrates with unspoken things, with every almost-touch that’s happened all day. Every stolen glance. Every lingering second.

“You looked… so fucking good at the pool” Hamzah says quietly, voice rougher now, lower. “And then tonight—” He shakes his head once, like the memory itself frustrates him. “It’s been driving me crazy.” You swallow hard., cheeks turning red. “I’ve been trying to play it cool,” he admits, eyes dropping briefly to your mouth before flicking back up. “But you make it hard.” The elevator dings softly as it passes another floor. Almost there. And suddenly, the knowledge that you’re running out of time crashes over you. You shift to face him more fully, your back brushing against the mirrored wall. “Show me then” you whisper. “How crazy i drive you.” Hamzah doesn’t move right away. His jaw flexes once, and then he steps in closer, slow and deliberate, until there’s barely an inch between you. His hand comes up, resting just beside your head on the wall behind you, not quite touching but close enough to make you dizzy. “I want to kiss you,” he says, voice deep, looking up at your eyes. “Can i?”

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly your mouths are crashing together, urgent and messy and hot. You gasp into him, and he swallows the sound, his hands finally landing on your waist, pulling you flush against him. Your fingers tangle in the front of his shirt, anchoring yourself as your back hits the cool metal of the elevator wall. His mouth moves over yours like he’s starving—deep, slow, then faster when you tug him closer. One of his hands drifts down, sliding under the hem of your dress, feeling your thigh, fingers pressing into your skin like he wants to memorize the shape of you.

You make a soft sound, and he groans into your mouth in response, the kiss turning hotter, heavier, his body pressing into yours like he can’t get close enough. Then all of a sudden-ding! The elevator doors open to your floor. You both break apart just barely, breathing hard, eyes locked. Neither of you moves right away. Hamzah’s chest is still pressed to yours, his hand resting against your thigh under your dress, like he forgot to pull away—or didn’t want to. You can feel his breath against your cheek, heavy and warm, and when he finally speaks, it’s in a voice so low it’s practically a growl. “You gonna walk” he murmurs, “or you want me to carry you?”

Your lips part, breath hitching as you start to respond,but you don’t get the chance. Suddenly, his arm wraps around your waist and the other around your legs, and you gasp as he lifts you like it’s nothing. Your arms instinctively loop around his neck, your dress riding up slightly as he holds you close. “Hamzah” you breathe, the sound caught somewhere between a warning and a plea. He doesn’t answer. He just starts walking, carrying you down the quiet hallway like he knows exactly where you’re going—and it’s the only place he’s been trying to get to all night.

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears as you cling to him, chest to chest, your lips brushing his jaw as you glance up. His eyes stay fixed ahead, his grip strong. When you reach your room, he pauses just outside the door. Gently, he lowers you to your feet, hands lingering at your waist, his breath still coming fast and shallow against your cheek. Fumbling slightly, you swipe the keycard. The lock clicks. And you barely wait for the door to swing open before your hand curls around his shirt, pulling him in with you.

As soon as the door shuts behind you, his mouth is on yours again—rougher this time, sloppy. Like now that he has you alone, he’s not holding anything back. The door clicks shut behind you, and then it’s like something snaps. He crowds you back against it without breaking the kiss, his hands gripping your waist, then sliding lower—down your hips, your thighs, tugging your dress up as his mouth devours yours. It’s all heat and teeth and tongue. You moan into him, fingers tangling in his shirt, tugging it up over his head. He barely breaks the kiss to yank it off, tossing it somewhere behind him before he’s on you again, mouth moving along your jaw, down your neck. His teeth graze your skin, and he sucks on the soft skin, leaving a mark.

“I’ve been thinking about this for months” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough and low and desperate. “Thinking about you. How you sound. How you taste.” His hands find the backs of your thighs, lifting you again, only this time, he walks you straight to the bed. You cling to him, your dress hiked up, legs wrapped around his waist as he lowers you onto the mattress, his body following, pressing you down into the sheets. You look up at him, chest heaving, lips parted. “Then stop thinking,” you whisper, “and do something about it. That’s all it takes.

His hands are everywhere on your body. He quickly takes your dress off, tossing it away, the cold air of the room hardening your bare nipples. His eyes drop, and for a moment, all he does is stare. He can’t believe you’re real, laid out beneath him like this. “Fuck” he breathes, voice strained. Then he slowly lowers himself and his mouth wraps around one of your nipples. You gasp, arching into him as his tongue swirls, soft at first, then rougher, teasing. His hand cups your other breast, thumb brushing over the nipple as his lips close around the other, sucking with slow pressure that has your back lifting off the mattress.

“Hamzah,” you whisper, your voice already wrecked. “Please, want more” Hamzah lifts his head slightly, his mouth glistening from where he’d been sucking on your nipple, eyes dark with heat. “Yeah?” he murmurs, voice rough. “You want more?” His hand trails slowly down your stomach, the pads of his fingers caressing your soft skin until they disappear beneath the thin waistband of your panties. The moment his fingers dip lower, he groans under his breath. “Fuck, you’re soaked.” His touch is light at first—just two fingers sliding between your folds, collecting the slick that’s already gathered there.

You jolt slightly, breath hitching, whining softly, hips twitching up toward his hand. His other arm braces beside your head, keeping him hovered over you as his fingers begin to move, slow and teasing, rubbing lazy circles over your clit. After a minute he pulls back just enough to sit up on his knees, tugging your panties down your legs in one smooth motion. He drops them somewhere behind him without looking, gaze fixed between your thighs now spread open just for him. Hamzah leans in again, settling between your legs, hands gripping your thighs, pushing them wider.

A deep sigh leaves his mouth at the sight of you, then lowers his head, and licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your pussy. You cry out, hips jerking, but he doesn’t stop. His mouth latches onto your clit, tongue swirling, then flattening, then flicking in perfect rhythm while his hands pin you down. He eats you like he’s starving, like he’s waited too long and finally, finally gets to have you. Your hands move to his hair, gripping tight, and he groans into you at the pull, tongue working deeper, faster, until your thighs start to shake around his head. He doesn’t stop. Not when you whimper his name like that. Not even when your hips begin to roll against his mouth, desperate and mindless.

He just holds you open and keeps licking—slow, messy, relentless. You're right on the edge, the pleasure coiling tight in your core, your thighs trembling around his head “Hamzah,” you gasp, voice high and needy. “Fuck—I’m gonna—” And he stops. He pulls back suddenly, his mouth wet, lips slick with you. You make a broken sound, halfway between a moan and a protest, hips still twitching in the air like your body’s chasing the orgasm he just stole from you. He looks up at you, flushed and breathless. “Nah,” he pants, voice hoarse. “Not like that. I wanna feel you when you cum.”

He’s already pushing his sweats down, cock thick, hard and flushed, leaking at the tip as he crawls over you. Your legs part without second thought, welcoming him, and he grabs himself at the base, dragging the head slowly through your soaked folds. You whimper at the contact, hips tilting up, desperate. Hamzah hisses through his teeth. “Fuck—you’re so wet, baby.” Then he pushes in. The stretch steals the air from your lungs. He’s thick, filling you slow but deep, making you feel every inch as your walls clench around him. Your hands reach for his back, nails sinking into his skin.

He groans deep in his throat, forehead dropping to yours. “Shit—you feel so fucking good.” When he bottoms out, he pauses, buried to the hilt, letting you both feel it—how full you are, how tight, how perfect it fits. Then he starts to move. Slow at first, grinding deep, each thrust deliberate, dragging against that sensitive spot that makes your legs tremble. You gasp his name again, and that’s all it takes—he snaps his hips harder, faster, setting a rhythm that’s rough and needy and so goddamn good it knocks the thoughts from your head. Your body arches into him, mouth falling open, his lips brushing yours, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

“Can’t believe it took us—fuck—so long to do this” his voice deep and unstable. Your body tightens beneath him, every nerve lit up like fire, and Hamzah doesn’t let up. His hips snap into you, fast and deep, filling you over and over. He’s panting against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours, like he can’t bear to be any farther than skin-to-skin “That’s it,” he groans, his voice thick and wrecked. “Taking me so fucking well,made for me.” You whimper at his words, thighs trembling around his waist, fingernails digging into his back as the pleasure builds hard in your abdomen. Every thrust knocks the breath out of you, and the way he looks at you—like you’re his, like there’s nothing else in the world but you—pushes you right to the edge. “Hamzah—fuck—I’m close—”

He drives into you even deeper, the tip of his cock hitting that perfect spot that makes you cry out. “Cum for me,” he groans against your ear. “Be a good girl and cum. Let me feel you.” And you do. Your whole body shakes, your back arching off the bed as your orgasm rips through you, wave after wave crashing so hard it makes you sob his name. Your walls flutter around him, squeezing him so tight he swears under his breath. He brings his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply and passionately, leaving both of you breathless. “Fuck—fuck, baby, I’m—please, can i fill you up?” You quickly nod, and cling onto him tighter. “Please, i need you” you whine in his ear. His rhythm stutters, hips jerking once, twice—then he’s spilling inside you, thick and hot, buried as deep as he can get. He curses again, low and breathless, holding you tight as he throbs inside you.

He doesn’t move for a long moment, just stays there, forehead pressed to yours, both of you panting, skin slick with sweat and still trembling from the high. His nose brushes yours, and for a moment, everything is quiet but the sound of your breathing and the dull thrum of your racing heartbeats. Then, slowly, gently, he kisses you again—this time softer, slower, but still desperate. Like he’s trying to say everything he doesn’t have words for. “You okay?” he murmurs, his voice rough but full of concern as he brushes a strand of hair away from your face. “Did I hurt you?”

You shake your head immediately, pulling him down for another kiss. “No,” you whisper against his lips. “I feel perfect.” He smiles at your words, so full of love that it makes your chest ache. He finally pulls out of you carefully, murmuring a quiet apology at the sensitivity, and disappears for a second to grab a towel from the bathroom. When he returns, he kneels between your legs, his touch gentle as he cleans you up, his eyes flicking to your face every few seconds to make sure you’re okay. Once he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and climbs back into bed beside you, tugging the duvet up around both your bodies.

His arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in close, tucking your head beneath his chin. His other hand finds yours under the covers, fingers lacing together like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs into your hair. “Wanted you. For so long.” You smile sleepily, fingers trailing over his bare chest. “You have me,” you say softly. “You’ve always had me.” He presses a kiss to your temple and holds you tighter. “Not letting you go now,” he whispers. “Not ever.” And with your legs tangled together and his heartbeat steady under your cheek, you fall asleep in his arms, warm, safe and more his than you’ve ever been.

my other works ➵ masterlist

taglist: @noturbabe22 , @giuli4nna , @harrys0nlyange1 , @luigifr0mf1ji , @pictureperfectblue , @rabbitsgnocchi , @2005irlfawn , @cheesecake432 , @oceanbreezeglow , @isathefantastic , @currentscnvulsive (please let me know if i missed your name!! also some usernames i couldn’t find for some reason im sorry)

© guliexe

[hamzahsbiggestfan]

bf!hamzah x gf!reader headcannons `✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ:

bf!hamzah who is your #1 supporter and is soso proud of any accomplishments you make, no matter how small, he will take you out to dinner to celebrate

bf!hamzah who will carry you if you two are walking and your feet start to hurt

bf!hamzah who knows you more than you know yourself, from your favorite movie, down to your favorite pair of socks

bf!hamzah who will do everything he can to cheer you up if you’re having a bad day, imagine him running you a bubble bath and when you get out he already has a pillow fort set up with all your favorite snacks for you guys to binge watch a new tv show. omg

bf!hamzah who is so proud to be your boyfriend, trying to show you off in every way possible

bf!hamzah who could listen to you talk for hours and will stay attentive to the things you say, even if what you’re saying is half nonsense, he loves when you tell him about your day or even random lore about something you saw on tiktok, he just loves knowing that he’s the first person you come to when you need to rant

bf!hamzah who will always be down to build legos with you, even if it takes you half the day and you had to restart twice cause you kept messing up

bf!hamzah who will not shut up about you, no actually. when he’s filming with martin and you were at home or working, he will take every opportunity he gets to talk about how much he misses you

bf!hamzah who will buy everything for you even tho you can afford it yourself, don’t even try opening your wallet around this man

bf!hamzah who will show his love and adoration to you in every way possible, whether it’d be kissing every inch of your face or holding your hands when you’re in a crowd

bf!hamzah who will always give you updates and send cute little pictures of red and blue if you’re not home with him

bf!hamzah who never lets your flowers die, will get you a new bouquet every week and make sure he picks out a different variation every time (never neon flowers)

hiiii guysss! i had so much fun writing this and i still have so many more ideas so let me know if you want a part twoooo

also send fic requests cuz i’m in my writing grind :pp

[cup1dluvhss]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ BF!HAMZAH HEADCANNONS, written by cup1dluvhs

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ how hamzah soft launched you + little details about you and hamzah’s relationship, and how much the slushies adore you! (request)

| warnings: fluff

| taking requests!

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ hamzah soft launched you on an episode of out of character, and since then you were a little scared to appear on the channel. you had appeared in some of his instagram posts, and finally made an appearance in a sims video with mandy, and everyone adored you. people also make frequent jokes that hamzah’s ‘paying you’ to date him, which never fails to make the both of you laugh.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ you ended up making your own youtube channel a couple months after hamzah announced your relationship due to high demand from the slushies, and you film vlog-type videos with mandy, hamzah also making frequent appearances. your videos garnered a lot of attention online and hamzah often jokes that you might ‘accidentally’ become more famous than him.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊both you and hamzah often forget when the camera is on while filming for the patreon, and he can regularly be seen with his arms around you, or you with your head on his shoulder, which makes the viewers go crazy. not to mention he still flirts with you on camera as if the two of you aren’t already dating.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ you tend to appear a lot in the patreon episodes of out of character, but not in a particularly planned way. it’s usually because red or blue are causing chaos, and your yells for them to stop or be quiet are always within earshot. hamzah will always stop talking to listen to your pleas, laugh, and then continue speaking again.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ during one of your more recent vlogs, you gave a tour of both you and hamzah’s now shared home. the viewers found it so funny how much the house had changed since you’d moved in, compared to the house tour hamzah gave in the hot ones video. it is now impeccably clean, and a lot of the furniture had been moved around. the couches now had fluffy pink cushions, and red and blue have their own little beds with their names on them. not to mention the bedsheets in you and hamzah’s bedroom, which have little red hearts scattered here and there, which hamzah gets shit from martin about. also, 90% of the ai photos hanging on hamzah’s wall had vanished, but you still let him keep one or two.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ during the video where martin and hamzah collaborated with quen, hamzah disappeared for a solid five minutes. martin eventually called him to come back into frame, but as the camera turned to him it was very clear that he had ran off to talk to you, who was sitting on the couch with a stupid smile on your face as he kissed your cheek before heading back to the kitchen. during the video, all he did was talk about you and would randomly say things like, ‘y/n likes strawberries.’ or, ‘y/n, can you tell me if this is still raw?’

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ during the camping vlog, hamzah started to miss you a lot very early into the trip. he kept face timing you, updating you on where he and martin were, or what shit they had to force feed themselves that particular day, showing his phone to the camera with a wide smile as you waved. hamzah also admitted to the viewers that he couldn’t sleep well because he was so used to having you beside him, and instead had to sleep with martin. martin didn’t like this, although, and began repeating ‘bros before hoes’ every time hamzah dared to mention you.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ hamzah talks a lot about random experiences he’s had with you on the podcast a lot. when you made your first appearance on it, hamzah chose to recite the story of the first time he met your parents, and how nervous he was. you were laughing the whole time, although, because sometimes you swear your mom loves him more than you, and you often joke that she fell in love with him when he brought her flowers the first time he met her.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ hamzah ‘jokes’ a lot on the channel when you make an appearance that he wants to marry you, but you both know he’s not joking. he’s told you many times before how he wants you to be his future wife, and also how he wants you to be his ‘baby momma’, but you only ever roll your eyes and tell him to be patient, even though you love it.

[evilslushy]

Can u do kink headcannons for hamzah☺️

Kink Headcanons _ ♡

Hamzah x f!reader

(A/N): MDNI—Proofread. This fic might not be as inclusive as most of my fics when it comes to height sowwy!! I hope you like this anon MWAH!! <3 Sorry for the late response or if it’s short, I didn’t want to make it too long for you </3

Size Kink

Oh. My. God.

He’s geeked if his hand is the size of your face. Or anything remotely similar to that—anything that would show that he’s a ‘giant’ compared to you.

It boosts his confidence (a.k.a boosts his horniness LMFAOOO)

This lowkey ties with manhandling

he’ll pick you up and slam you on the bed (affectionately) or throw you over his shoulder

Him big man. You small portable dumbbell. *claps*

(Bonus if his dick barely fits… that’s his biggest weakness)

Degrading

On him. With a softer delivery.

That’s all I’m going to say.

(Sub!Hamzah I KNOW YOU’RE REAL)

Praising

He loves when you tell him he’s doing a good job :(

He c*ms fast when you do

“Best dick I’ll ever have. Fuck. Keep going.” And he’s gone.

He also likes doing it too lowkey… but most of the time—as I mentioned before—he’s just a noisy boy :3

When he does do it, usually it’s short like: “pretty girl.” Or “just for me.”

His way of praising is kissing you. LOL

Face-Sitting

He likes it when you sit on his face.

Kinda ties with the size kink since he wants to feel your weight on top of him

But also to show you that he, in fact, CAN handle all that (puuurrrr, this is for my wocs!! HEAVY ON Y’ALL)

The biggest reason is cause he loves giving you pleasure (i’m lying he does cause he loves eating pussy LMFAO)

Teasing

He likes teasing you.

Lowkey he teases in a weird way though… like tickling and shit LMFAO

Brush his hand up against your thigh when you’re sitting down

Murmuring against the shell of your ear, his lips brushing against them softly. Sometimes kissing it when you try to pull away giggling.

Rubs his fingers up and down your waist when he has an arm tied around you.

Small things that he knows gets you going.

The face you make after—whether it’s flustered or angry or flirtatious. He eats it UP.

(Lowkey into edging you. But you didn’t hear it from me)

Body worshipping

He loves doing it, but in a teasing way. Like I said.

And the reason why he does it by teasing you is because he gets awkward at times; especially during the beginning of your relationship.

Hamzah’s biggest form of love is kissing, so he’s kissing you up and down to shower you with his TLC

(He likes it when you do it back but he won’t admit it)

[havens-iphone]

── backwards and fowards ꫂৎ ; grumpy!hamzah

summary ⋮ at a party, you meet hamzah—quiet, distant, and seemingly uninterested in you. despite his cold demeanor, you try to interact with him, but he only responds with dry remarks and indifference. after an awkward car ride and a particularly harsh comment at game night, you quietly pull away, convincing yourself he never cared. weeks pass, and while mandy checks in, hamzah doesn’t. but in your absence, he starts to notice—game nights feel dull, the group quieter. he catches himself looking at your photos, missing your presence. then, late one night, your phone buzzes, pulling you from sleep.

wc ⋮ 2.8k

authors note ⋮ okay honestly this SUCKS. came out worse than i expected but oh well💔💔 i got rlly lazy at the end but hopefully part 2 will be better!!

the party was already in full swing by the time you arrived. loud music spilled out into the hallway, accompanied by bursts of laughter and the scent of something that smelled suspiciously like burnt pizza. you took a deep breath and knocked on the door, adjusting your oversized cremé sweater you wore for the cold toronto weather before mandy opened it with a smile.

"there she is!" mandy greeted, pulling you into a warm hug. "you made it! this place is already crazy."

you grinned, your eyes scanning the crowded living room. "you always throw the best parties, mands," you replied, pushing through the door. the apartment was packed with friends, majority of them you didnt know.

your eyes fell on two familiar figures sitting on the couch — martin, who was already in his usual comfy hoodie, and hamzah, who was slouched beside him, eyes half-lidded as he stared at his phone.

you had seen hamzah a few times before, but never met properly. he was always off to the side, scowling in his hoodie like he wanted to be anywhere but here. you didnt blame him, though. some people just werent built for parties.

still, that didnt mean you were going to leave him out of the fun. you bounced over to the couch, grinning like a mischievous cat. "hey, hamzah!" you called brightly, your voice louder than necessary as you plopped down next to him.

he barely glanced up, his fingers still flying over his phone. "your loud," he muttered, not even bothering to look your way.

you laughed, unbothered. "i perfer the term 'energetic'.. and im not that loud. trust me, you'll get used to me."

hamzah shot you a side-eye, barely hiding the annoyance that flickered in his dark eyes. "uh-huh," he grumbled, his tone dry. "maybe you should take it down a notch before your voice annoys the whole building."

you titled your head, unfazed. "ill take that as a challenge."

martin, overhearing the exchange, chuckled from the other side of the couch. "oh no, hamzah, you've awakened the beast."

you gave him a dramatic wink. "you know me too well, martin."

hamzah's lips twitched in something that couls've been a smile, but he quickly masked it. "great, now im really looking foward to this."

you leaned back into the couch, nudging him with your shoulder, though her clearly wasnt interested in your attention. but you didnt mind — you were used to it. it was a game, really. hamzah was like a stone, cold and unyielding, but you knew better than to think he didnt have a soft spot under all that sarcasm.

"im here for the snacks, by the way," you added, not missing a beat. "dont judge me."

hamzahs gaze finally flickered to you, his eyes narrowing slightly, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. "if i judged you for that, i'd have to judge myself too."

you grinned. "see? were already bonding."

martin rolled his eyes, "oh please, you two are like oil and water."

you just shrugged, your smile wide as ever as you think of a cringy comeback, "oil and water make a beautiful mess, dont you think?"

hamzah didnt respond, but the faintest smirk lingered on his face. it wasnt much — but for a guy like hamzah, it was more than enough.

the night carried on, and you found yourself drawn back to the couch time and time again, sneaking glances at hamzah as be tried — and failed — to hide his amused smirk whenever you pulled another ridiculous stunt. but you could tell he wasnt completely unfazed. he was.. intrigued, and that was more than enough to keep you going.

the end of the night came, slowly, but it came. mandy and martins friends started leaving one by one until it was just mandy, martin, hamzah, and you. hamzah and martin were left talking in the kitchen as you helped mandy clean up, even though you werent asked.

you gazed over at hamzah in the kitchen. his eyes caught yours while martin was still talking about video ideas, the corner of his lips curled up, just barely. you flushed, looking away in hopes he hadn't seen.

you and mandy finish cleaning up. you yawn, heading to the front door to get your shoes on. "you walking home?" mandy asks, concerned.

"yeah, its like a 30 minute walk, not too far." you smile, trying to reassure her you'll be fine. mandy flashes a frown at you, "its cold, are you sure? i can drive you."

"mandy, trust me its fi-" you get cut off by hamzah, "i'll drive her home." he clears his throat. you show a confused look as you smile, putting on your shoes.

hamzah picks up his keys, opening the front door. "come on." he demands you. martin and mandy flash eachother a look and smirk, saying their goodbyes. you both head out the door, walking down the hallway to leave the building.

theres an awkward silence between you two as you head towards the car. he opens the passenger door for you, your cheeks turn red, thankful for the cold weather disguising your fluster.

you climb into the passenger seat as he shuts the door, heading over to the opposite side. he climbs in and immediately starts the car, putting your address in the gps.

as the car hummed down the empty road, the soft sound of the engine was the only thing breaking the silence. you could feel the warmth of the cars interior surrounding you, and despite the tension earlier, something about the quiet made you feel safe. you allowed yourself to sink deeper into the seat, your head tipping slightly to the side, eyes fluttering closed for just a second.

but the silence felt like it was choking you. it was suffocating, thick air. you couldnt stand it anymore, the awkwardness clawing at your chest, so you spoke up, your voice soft, trying to break the tension.

"thanks for driving me home," you murmured, your fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve. you turned your head slightly, hoping to catch his eyes, but he was so focused on the road, his jaw tight. the way he was holding himself, so distant, made the words feel like they were falling flat in the air. “i know its late, and you probably have better things to do, but i really do appreciate it.”

there was a long pause, and you could feel the coldness radiating off him. he didnt respond right away, and the silence streched out, sharp and uncomfortable.

“yeah, well, its not like i had a choice, right?” his voice was flat, almost dismissive, and it stung more than you expected.

you pushed on, forcing a small laugh to lighten the mood. “i probably wouldve ended up stranded if it werent for you. or, like, lost in a ditch somewhere.” ou glanced at him again, searching his face for any flicker of softness, but all you got was the faintest twitch of his jaw.

the rejection settled in slowly, like a cold ache blooming in your chest. you leaned back into the seat, folding in on yourself, wishing you could just disappear.

you prop your elbow up on the car door, leaning your head on your hand as you gaze out the window.

“im sorry if i… talk too much or whatever,” you whispered, barely audible, more to yourself than to him.

hamzah exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers flexing on the steering wheel. “you don’t have to fill every silence, you know. its annoying,” he muttered, his voice low and tight.

it shouldnt have hurt as much as it did.

you bit the inside of your cheek and nodded, turning your head to stare back out the window. the streetlights blurred into streaks of gold against the night sky. you blinked rapidly, willing away the sting in your eyes.

for the rest of the drive, you didnt say another word.

and he didnt seem to notice.

or maybe he did — and just didnt care.

the car slowly came to a stop as he pulled up to your apartment complex. you unbuckled as you held the car handle. "thank you." you murmur, avoiding eye contact. he hums in response as you open the car door and step out. you rush to the entrance of your apartment. as he drives off you sigh, shoving the key into your door and entering.

after your proper introduction to hamzah, you became a fixture in their little group.

its now been a week since the awkward car ride between you and hamzah. your phone buzzed on your bed as your putting on some pyjamas.

you glance at it, seeing mandys contact. you rush over to read the text. you smile at the invite to a game night with just you four, knowing hamzah will be there for sure. you accept and start heading out of your front door, saying goodbye to your two dogs — bubbles and disco.

you arrive at mandy and martins shared apartment after a long 30 minutes of walking in the cold, dark night.

you knock as you hear mandys feet quickly shuffling to the door. she opens it and greets you, pulling you into a hug. as your hugging, your eyes meet hamzah. you flash him a smile as his eyes quickly dart away, looking cold. she pulls away and you enter the house.

"go sit next to hamzah! we'll start once the hot cocoa is all ready," she shares, smiling as she walks back to martin in the kitchen.

you sit next to hamzah, feeling his awkward aura as he shifts himself slightly, distancing you two a bit more. you take a deep breath, uncomfortable with the silence.

you clutch your hands in your lap, fingers twisting together as you try to ignore the space hes put between you. the distance feels louder than the silence itself, each second stretching out like an eternity.

“i can move if you want,” you offer quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. you dont look at him, your eyes fixed on a faint scratch in the dining table. “i dont want to bother you.”

hamzah exhales, sounding annoyed. “youre fine,” he mutters, but he doesnt move closer.

the words should be reassuring, but they feel hollow, like hes just saying them to end the conversation. you nod, pressing your lips together to keep the lump in your throat from rising, and let the silence swallow you both again.

mandy and martin slowly walk over to the table were sat at with a pile of board games, giggling as they both hold 2 cups of hot cocoa.

they reach the table as they set down the cups, sliding you and hamzah yours as they sit in their respective seats opposite from you and hamzah.

you adjust yourself as you pick up your hot cocoa to sip. "oh carefu-" mandy warns, getting cut off by your whimper at the hot liquid burning your mouth.

hamzah glances over, eyes flickering to you as you set the cup down quickly, fanning your mouth with your hand and swallowing the burning liquid with a whimper. "seriously?" he mutters, shaking his head. "are you stupid? is it not obvious its hot?"

martin snorts, biting back a laugh. mandy gives hamzah a pointed look. "you dont have to be rude," she chides, nudging him under the table.

the burn still lingers on your tongue, but what stings more is the sharp edge to hamzahs words. still, you force a smile, waving it off. “its fine,” you mumble, voice a little hoarse. “my fault for not listening.”

for a split second, something unreadable flickers across hamzahs face, but he quickly schools his expression, leaning back in his chair like he couldnt care less.

mandy breaks the tension with a clap of her hands, pulling out the first game from the pile. “okay! how about we play something to lighten the mood?” she chirps, shooting you a sympathetic smile.

you nod, grateful for the distraction, but as the game begins, you cant help but notice the way hamzah avoids looking at you — like your presence is something hes trying to ignore.

you throw your hands up, laughing loud, voice echoing, filling the space. cards fall as you cheer for yourself, a wild grin on your face.

mandy giggles, martin shakes his head, the room buzzing, alive and bright. but hamzahs voice cuts through it all — sharp as a blade, too tight

“do you ever shut up?” he mutters, not even bothering to glance. the words hit harder than bullets, stripping away your stance.

“youre so annoying,” he bites out low, like your joy is some kind of crime. the room turns cold, your laughter dies.

mandy and martin trade a look, their smiles faltering. you swallow the ache, force a grin, pretending the hurt wont last.

but every word lingers, heavy and sharp, etching itself in your skin.

the night continues and you find yourself being quiet and reserved, only speaking when spoken to, not cheering when you win, and only mumbling short little answers when someone asks you something

you glance at the oven clock, noticing it says 12:34 am. you sigh before mumbling, "i think im gonna head home, its getting late." forcing a smile, you get up from your chair and stretch.

"oh, yeah it is.. are you sure you dont wanna just spend the night?" mandy questions. you bite your cheek, "no, im fine."

you hug mandy and say goodbye to martin as you quickly walk to the door and put on your shoes. hamzah has a confused look on his face when he notices you didnt even bother saying goodbye to him.

his expression quickly falters when he sees martin looking at him. you open the door and slam it shut, walking outside into the frigid night.

you sigh, not wanting to walk in the dark or cold but knowing its either that or another awkward car ride with hamzah.

'maybe he just is upset im intruding on their group' you think, zoning out as you continue walking the 45 minute walk to your apartment.

your mind rattles with a bunch of ideas as to why hamzah is so cold to you. obviously its not unusual that he was cold but it was different with you. like he had some unbearable hatred against you.

a sharp pain snaps you out of your thoughts, you wince, only now noticing the blood on your lip. you must have been biting it without realizing. swiping your tongue over the wound, you continue walking until you finally reach home. the moment you step inside, your dogs dart from their little bougie beds to greet you.

you yawn, shuffling over to your bedroom. you lay down, taking off your shoes and throwing them randomly. you tug the blankets over yourself the instant a shoe hits the ground. you turn on your phone, deciding to mindlessly scroll on instagram. as your scrolling you space out, however, one specific post catches your eye.

your eyes inspect the photo, jaw slacking ever so slightly as you see a photo hamzah posted only 20 minutes ago. him and another girl hanging out, hamzah smiling as the girl is acting silly.

for some reason, you feel hurt. as if your heart had just been ripped out. sure, you werent expecting to be the only girl hamzah hangs out with but it hurt seeing him so happy with another girl. you didnt expect for him to like you as well, especially not this fast. but you liked him, a lot. you always have.

you turn off your phone and roll over, tears silently escaping. you wiped them, 'this is stupid to be upset over, of course he doesnt like me!' you repeat in your head until you eventually fall asleep.

the past 2 and a half months have been nothing but you bed rotting. of course there has been plenty of opportunities for you to get out but you just didnt want to leave the comfort of your house, or bed for that matter.

mandy was worried, constantly checking up on you, calling you, inviting you for game nights, but you only spoke to her breifly. telling her not to worry and that you were fine. she never believed you, obviously.

you took notice to the fact that only mandy was calling, never once did hamzah call you. not even to ask if you were coming to the game nights or movie nights.

and after 2 more weeks, he still didnt. you knew to stop waiting to see his stupid contact buzz on your phone, so you gave up any hope of thinking he cared.

hamzah didnt think you leaving the group when you had just joined would affect him. and truth be told, it didnt at first.

but the silence starts to eat at him. the group feels dead without your voice. game nights are quieter. hamzah catches himself stalking your page. seeing the way your bright smile travels to whoever else is in the picture with you. seeing you makes him smile, even if its just simple photos of you.

your sleeping as your abruptly woken up by your phone ringing and vibrating. you groan, looking at the screen and seeing hamzahs name.

[chalantzah]

hi………… what if i tell you im back………..

send requests into my inbox

[mopslusher]

SUCH A GOOD KISSER

NSFW💋

- your lips were sore, raw and pink. Hamzah was kissing you slow and lazily at this point, you were supposed to be watching a movie but he of course had other plans instead. You were sitting on his lap, straddling him on the couch his large hand gently resting around your neck in a subtle manner and the other sliding teasingly slowly up and down along your side before settling on your soft ass. He swears he could stay like this forever.

- He loved kissing, it was essential to him whenever he was around you. Wether that was gently tilting your chin up to place three sweet pecks into your lips before he went of and did whatever, or if he was genuinely hungry, craving for the feeling of your soft juicy lips against his. He couldn’t keep his eyes off them, especially when they were glistening and coated in lip gloss, he was completely distracted from whatever words were coming out your mouth.

- his favroite however, was kissing you and teasing you at the same time. It was like a drug, better than drugs. The way you softly whimpered and whined against his lips when his hand would gently rub over your clothed pussy, his movements so slow your body had no choice but to move against his thick fingers, needing more.

- His own breathing would become heavy when your eyes flickered up to his with need, desire. He could feel how badly you wanted him to fuck you when your panties gradually became damp, a smirk plastered on his lips. He found it amusing how easily he could make you wet, lowly whispering “you’re so fucking needy” into your ear with a sinister scoff. He was mocking you.

- He found it pathetic when you practically begged for more, but of course he submitted to your request, rubbing circles on your clit through your panties, he liked it when he could feel the warmth and wetness that seeped through the material when you came, his lips fixed on yours as soon as you showed signs of reaching your tipping point.

- He wanted to be as close to you as humanly possible, occasionally breaking the kiss to stare deeply into your eyes, watching intently as your face twisted with pleasure from his ministrations, mentally documenting every sound you made. He was in heaven, he never wanted to leave moments like these. Not when your lips reattached with his after you came, his fingers slowly coming to a stop. This was more than a kiss to him, it was a form of showing love.

Yet another song inspired fic, my headphones do NOT come off my head. Ever.

[slushynoobzbias]

Blondezah🤍

[cheesecakeluver]

My love… i need a tooth-rotting sweet fluffy hamzah fic… ONE WHERE IM SMOTHERING HIM WITH SMOOCHES >0< !!

(You deserve the biggest smooch tho MWAH)

I THINK WE COULD DO IT IF WE TRIED

Hamzahthefantastic x reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 Waking up on the morning after an argument, you and Hamzah talk it out, understanding each other , and reconnecting.

disclaimer: i didn’t really listen to this request… sorry @evilslushy! i get caught up with writing that i forget the end goal.

———————-

Morning light filters through the blinds, as birds chirp outside, and the soft fall of rain patters at window.

Tossing and turning, my mind is misty, representing the weather outside. Flashes of voices, words being ridiculed, and an empty feeling feel in my head, as my thoughts recall the events of last night.

I don’t particularly want to acknowledge last nights mishaps, but i have to. That’s the gift with humans. Remembrance.

Unwillingly, my eyes open to the sounds of the plastic curtains knocking the window, and the foggy grey light floods the room, engulfing me, and who i know to be Hamzah, in it.

I yawn, stretching my arms far above my head as i glance at him, cleaning the room of its mess.

Last night, things had gotten heated. Harsh words were spilt, and items had been scattered. Never in my relationship had i seen Hamzah so enraged, and it was new to me.

I wipe the sleep from my eyes as i stumble out of bed, quickly sliding my slippers on, and making my way to the kitchen, leaving Hamzah behind without a word.

I didn’t mean to be cold towards the man i loved. I just needed to hear those two words escape from his mouth, and to understand that he really meant them. After that, i knew i’d crumble back into his arms, regardless of whether i wanted to or not.

But i would always want to, and i had come to terms with that. I appreciated that. How even through tough times i would always know i had him, and i wasn’t going to lose him.

Begrudgingly, i swung open the cupboards, grabbing the cereal boxes from the top shelf clumsily. Without Hamzah to aid me, it was harder. Another sign i needed him. Another sign i wanted him.

Spilling some of the cereal, i carefully pour two bowls, splashing milk accidentally when plopping the spoons in.

I debated leaving the bowl for Hamzah to find, or giving it to him straight up, but decided on the latter.

Slowly but surely, i made my way to our room, careful not to degrade our hallway as i did our kitchen.

Peeking through the opened door, i saw Hamzah sitting on our bed, motionless. He appeared drained, no colour flushing his cheeks as he lay back against the head frame, his demeanour growing more and more melancholy as i intruded quietly, without him knowing.

At this point i’ve had enough, and can’t take any more of his sorrow, entering the room and placing the bowl on his nightstand. I don’t utter a word, yet i gently fall in place beside him, watching his every movement. The way his chest rises and falls, and how his curls tumble into his eyes.

He seems to have acknowledged my actions, yet doesn’t say a word, making a small sliver of my heart break. I decide that if i want things to get fixed, i’d have to make the first move.

“Hamzah?…” i question warily, unsure of how he’d react.

His eyes flutter open, immediately directed to mine as he nods, as if to tell me to continue.

I sigh, my hands laying idle in my lap, cereal forgotten.

“I just wanted to ask how you were feeling.. about last night” i wince at my words, the argument still fresh in my mind, and a touchy subject.

He tenses slightly, shifting uncomfortably as his eyes depart from mine and to the condensation covered window.

Finally, he speaks, catching me off guard slightly.

“I want to apologise..” he mutters, words trailing off.

How i wish he would look at me, to stare into my eyes and understand everything i was feeling, and every thought rushing through my head.

“I know that things got heated, and i said some…”

“You did.” i reply, colder and sharper than intended. He spoke of things i would never image, calling me all sorts of names for what seemed to be a idiotic reason.

At least he understood he was acting like an ass.

He sighs, running his hand through his hair as he finally turns to look at me. His eyes pierce mine strikingly, as if he’s seeing my soul, my aura, my spirit when he looks at me.

he awkwardly slides himself over to me, looking at me for approval for his next action.

I would always give in to him, and his sweet, doe like eyes that will always entrance me.

I nod slowly, slightly unsure of whatever he would do next.

He shifts himself downwards, legs hanging off of the bed as he places his head on my stomach, and arms around my waist. I feel the man melt into me, as though we were one.

I don’t do anything, but breathe. I don’t believe that even if i had the chance to do something, that i would.

Seeing him, so idyllic, giving into me.

It was a side of vulnerability that i had yet to encounter.

“mh so sorry..” he muffled into me, and all i can do is nod, my fingers intertwined with his curls.

i sigh, relaxing my body fully as he lay atop me.

“it will be okay hamzah” i whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple, a small smile growing across his face.

it will be okay.