#hamzah imagines

[sirensslament]

DRENCHED hamzahthefantastic x reader

summary!: you only wanted a peaceful bath to melt the stress away. Instead, Hamzah finds you, and suddenly, peace is the last thing on your mind. Water everywhere, slick skin, desperate mouths. He ruins you once, twice, and still isn’t satisfied. Neither are you.

Pairing: boyfriend!Hamzahthefantastic x female girlfriend!reader

Trope: established relationship

Genre: straight up porn, literally no plot at all (mature/18+)

Note: well! i made a whole new alt account for this, no one's EVER going to find my main account hehehe. this idea came to me during ovulation, and i was so horny to the point i had to write it. im an english major in uni so i swear my writing is decent, not saying that my writing is good here though... oh, also! if anyone stumbles across this god awful work, just know that my requests are open, and the people i write for are in the tags! #multifandom!!!

Word count: 3k+

warnings !: mdni. smut: protective sex (reader’s on birth control), bath sex, cunnilingus, pussy slapping, overstimulation (m&f) big!dickhamzah, hair-pulling (kinda), messy sex (they’re in a bathtub), dacryphillia (if you squint), creampie, oral fixation, rough sex, softdom!Hamzah

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The sweet, thick scent of vanilla clings to the steamy air, curling lazily around the bathroom like an invisible blanket. A soft, satisfied sound slips from your mouth as you sink deeper into the bath, the hot water wrapping around you like a slow, loving touch.

It sloshes gently against the tub, some spilling over the side, but you don't care, not when the heat is soaking into every sore, tired muscle. You close your eyes, your head resting against the cool marble edge, the world outside dissolving into nothing.

You smile to yourself, silently cursing and thanking Hamzah for convincing you to splurge on the jetted bathtub he wouldn’t shut up about. You'd never admit it out loud, gosh he’d be unbearable if you did.

The low thrum of the jets hums under you, sending tiny, delicious vibrations across your skin. Thick bubbles cling to your body, rising just below your collarbones, covering you like a secret. Your fingers trace lazy patterns across the water’s surface, the dim glow of the bathroom light making the whole room look like something out of a dream.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you’re alone, quiet, at peace.

Until the sharp jingle of keys cuts through the air, and you hear the front door swing open.

“Yo,” Hamzah’s voice calls out.

You don't answer, you just sink a little lower into the water, biting back a smile. Heavy footsteps pad down the hall, and then he’s there, leaning casually against the bathroom doorframe, a lazy smirk on his face.

“Well, well,” he says, eyes raking over the scene in front of him. “This what you get up to when I’m not around?"

You roll your eyes, not bothering to cover yourself. "Maybe if you weren't so slow, you'd be here too."

He laughs under his breath, pushing off the doorframe, his hoodie hanging loose off one shoulder, sweatpants slung low on his hips. The way he looks at you, cocky, amused, a little dark around the edges, makes the warm water feel suddenly too hot.

“You’re lucky I like you," he mutters, pulling his hoodie off one arm at a time. Your eyes fall to his hair, once grown into luscious curls, now cut to a bleached buzz. He was handsome nonetheless, so handsome even it made you want to jump his bones.

You raise a brow, pretending to be unimpressed even as your heart kicks up. "Oh yeah? Gonna make yourself useful or just stand there looking pretty?"

He grins, that slow, lazy and dangerous grin you know all too well, and drops the hoodie on the floor.

"Move over," he says, voice low, already stripping off his shirt without waiting for permission. "I'm not about to let you have all this fun by yourself."

You scoff, but you’re already shifting to the side, sending another ripple through the water. He steps closer, dropping his sweats in one motion, completely unapologetic.

You continuously eye his movements, like a predator would to its' prey. Just before he even has the thought to enter, you rise up slightly, not caring as the bubbles drip off your body, revealing your chest drowned in water.

"Boxer's off too, Hamzah." You say with a sickly sweet smile.

Hamzah pauses for a second, caught off guard by your tone and the sight of your bare breast, that wicked little smile playing on your lips. His gaze sharpens, something dark flickering behind his eyes. He shifts his weight, peeling the last piece of fabric off without breaking eye contact.

You hum approvingly, sinking back into the bath, letting the water kiss your skin as you pretend not to stare.

Without hesitation, he steps into the tub, water spilling a little more over the sides with the sudden movement. He settles behind you, legs bracketing your body, his chest pressing against your back. You feel every hard line of him, hot and solid even under the water.

His hands waste no time, they roam your thighs under the bubbles, slow and deliberate, fingers tracing up the slick line of your hips. You breathe in sharply when he dips his head, his mouth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"You act all cocky until you actually have to back it up," he murmurs, voice a gravelly tease against your skin.

You let out a soft, mocking laugh, tilting your head to the side to give him more access. "Please. You wouldn’t survive if I actually tried."

Hamzah chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling through your spine. "You keep running your mouth... might have to find another way to shut you up."

One hand slides up, cupping your jaw gently but firmly, tilting your head back until your neck is exposed fully to him. His mouth drags down your throat, slow and deliberate, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that leave you breathless.

Your body arches instinctively against his, seeking more contact, more heat. His other hand trails lower, under the water, the bubbles hiding the way his fingers glide along the inside of your thigh, creeping closer and closer, down to where you need him the most.

You shift, impatient, grinding back slightly against him, and you feel him, unmistakably hard against you.

He groans softly, a dangerous sound right against your ear.

“Yeah?” he mutters, one hand tightening slightly on your hip to keep you in place. “You want something?"

You answer by grinding back again, slower this time, just to spite him. He laughs under his breath, low, dark, promising.

"Say it," he growls into your ear, teeth scraping along the shell of it.

You're stubborn, biting your lip to keep from giving him the satisfaction, but when his fingers dip lower, just barely brushing against your drenched cunt, a whimper betrays you. You feel him smirk against your skin.

“I knew it,” he breathes.

Before you can retort, his mouth captures yours, messy, hungry, claiming, while his hand finally gives in, sliding exactly where you’ve been silently begging for it.

His hand dips beneath the bubbles, finding you with unrelenting precision.

His fingers brush lightly over your clit at first, barely there, just enough to make you twitch with need. You let out a soft, desperate sound, one that immediately has him grinning against your jaw.

"Patience," he mutters, but there's nothing patient about the way he finally presses down, slow, teasing circles that have you clenching around nothing, your legs parting wider in the water on instinct.

He drags one finger lower, sliding between your folds, feeling just how wet you already are for him, the bathwater doing nothing to hide the raw slickness that's all you. His breath catches a little, like even he wasn’t prepared for how ready you are.

“You’re fucking dripping,” he groans, voice dark and rough against your ear. “You want it that bad?"

You can only nod, too breathless to be cocky now. And Hamzah, always one to give you what you need, but never without a little cruelty, finally slips one thick finger inside.

The stretch makes you gasp, your back arching off his chest. He moves slow, deliberate, pulling out just a little before pressing back in, setting a lazy rhythm designed to drive you insane. The water rocks around you with each motion, bubbles clinging to your skin, framing the obscene scene unfolding beneath the surface.

"Fuck, you feel good," he hisses, pressing his forehead to the side of your head for a second, like he needs to catch his breath too.

You whimper when he curls his finger just right, grazing that sweet spot inside you that makes your thighs tremble.

“Yeah?” he breathes, his free hand sliding up to cup your breast under the water, thumb brushing teasing circles over your nipple. “Right there?”

You nod frantically, a broken sound falling from your lips.

He chuckles low against your ear, pure sin, and slips a second finger inside, stretching you wider. The burn is perfect, just enough to make your toes curl against the slippery floor of the tub.

His hand between your legs works faster now, fingers thrusting deep, then retreating, his palm grinding against your clit with every motion. Your whole body rocks with it, helpless against the delicious rhythm he’s setting.

“Come on,” he murmurs roughly, nipping at the side of your neck. “Wanna feel you fall apart on my fingers.”

You cry out when he hits that spot again and again, faster now, his thumb abandoning its slow circles to rub tight, desperate patterns over your clit, pushing you right to the edge.

The heat coils deep in your stomach, sharp and fast and impossible to fight. Your muscles tense, your nails digging into his thigh behind you as the first wave of your orgasm crashes over you, hot and overwhelming.

You choke out his name, your body shuddering violently as you clamp down around his fingers, riding it out as he works you through every last pulse, every last desperate jolt of pleasure.

He groans softly, almost like he’s feeling it with you, his fingers slowing only when you’re too sensitive to take anymore. He pulls out gently, hands smoothing over your trembling thighs, your stomach, grounding you.

Your head drops back onto his shoulder, breathing hard, heart hammering against your ribs.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and devastating. His arms wrap tight around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, and you feel him, still rock hard against your lower back.

Hamzah presses a kiss to your temple, letting you catch your breath for just a second, before his hand slides lower again, teasing, promising more.

“Hope you’re not tired yet,” he whispers darkly. "Because I'm nowhere near done with you."

He doesn’t give you much time to recover. His hands slide down the slick planes of your body, fingers gripping your hips firmly, almost possessively, as he shifts behind you.

The water rocks wildly with the movement, bubbles sloshing up and over the edges of the tub, but neither of you care.

He kisses your shoulder, your neck, slow and biting, and then he's tugging you up, coaxing you to climb out of his lap and sit perched at the edge of the tub.

“Come here,” he mutters, voice rough and low, so thick with need it makes your head spin.

You do as he says, breathless, letting your thighs fall open for him. The cold air hits your dripping core, and you shiver — but it’s nothing compared to the way his eyes darken when he sees you fully exposed like this, all flushed and wet and desperate.

He sinks lower into the water, grabbing you by the thighs and dragging you toward him until you’re practically sitting on his face.

Without warning, his mouth is on you, hot, hungry, absolutely filthy.

He licks a broad, slow stripe from your entrance up to your clit, groaning like he’s been starving for you. His buzzed hair scratches lightly against your thighs as you thread your fingers into it, gripping tight as you grind against his mouth, chasing every devastating flick of his tongue.

He doesn’t stop, not when your hips start to jerk, not when your thighs try to close around his head. He pulls you closer instead, growling low against your pussy like he’s furious you’re even trying to move away.

“Stay still,” he mutters against your folds, the vibration making your whole body jolt.

His tongue circles your clit lazily before he flattens it, dragging it over you again and again until you’re writhing above him, your moans spilling into the steamy air, reckless and loud.

Then without warning, he pulls back slightly and slaps your pussy with his palm, the wet, obscene sound echoing around the bathroom.

You yelp, more from shock than pain, the sting sharp and immediate, but then he soothes it with another slow, devastating lick.

“Fuck, look at you," he says, voice rough and breathless. “Fucking dripping all over me."

He slaps you again, rougher this time, and you cry out, hips bucking helplessly. The sensation sends a white-hot bolt of pleasure straight through you, and he watches you with that smug, fucked-out expression, loving every second of it.

"Messy little thing," he mutters, more to himself than to you.

Before you can even recover, he dives back in, his mouth ruthless now, sucking, licking, nipping, until you’re keening, thighs trembling violently around his head.

Your hands tangle desperately in his hair, nails digging into his scalp as you pull, needing something, anything, to ground yourself. He groans when you tug, the noise vibrating against your clit, sending you hurtling straight over the edge.

You come again with a cry, thighs clamping around his head, body jerking uncontrollably, and Hamzah doesn’t stop. He laps at you through it, relentless, forcing another orgasm to build before the first one even finishes.

“Hamzah— I c-can’t—" you gasp, trying to squirm away.

"Yes, you can," he growls against you. "You’re gonna give me everything."

His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you wide open for him as he doubles down, fucking you with his tongue, messy and obscene.

It’s too much. The overstimulation burns, pleasure so sharp it borders on pain, and then you feel it snap, sudden and brutal.

You cry out as you squirt, body convulsing, the release soaking his mouth, his face, the water, absolutely drenching everything.

Hamzah pulls back just a fraction, looking up at you like you just gave him his favorite fucking gift.

"God damn," he breathes, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, but there’s still a slick, shiny mess smeared across his lips, his chin, his cheeks.

"You’re a fucking dream," he mutters, voice wrecked and reverent.

You’re still trembling when he rises from the water, towering over you, his cock flushed red and angry, leaking against his stomach.

Big.

Thick.

You swallow hard, mouth going dry at the sight.

He wraps a hand around himself lazily, giving one long stroke that has him hissing between his teeth.

"You think we're done?" he asks, voice a dangerous, amused rumble.

You shake your head weakly, dazed.

He grabs you by the hips, flipping you around so your chest presses against the cold marble edge of the tub, ass high in the air, still dripping.

You barely have a second to gasp before you feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and then he’s pushing in, slow and unrelenting, stretching you wide.

You whimper, the burn delicious, overwhelming, as he sinks deeper and deeper until he's fully seated inside you, hips flush against your ass.

"So fucking tight," he growls, his hands sliding up your back, fisting in your wet hair and tugging your head back roughly. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make you moan, make you feel owned.

He holds you there for a beat, savoring it, the messy, wet slap of his hips against your ass, the water splashing around you with every little movement.

And then he starts to move.

Hard.

Deep.

Relentless.

The bathtub rocks violently under you both, water splashing up onto the floor, your gasps and moans bouncing off the tiled walls.

Hamzah fucks you like he’s been waiting for this forever, desperate, greedy, like he can’t get deep enough, fast enough. Every thrust punches a cry from your throat, pleasure sparking bright and raw under your skin.

“Take it," he grunts, voice rough in your ear. “Take all of it."

And you do, you take every brutal inch, every rough, devastating snap of his hips, until you’re falling apart again, shattered and sobbing his name into the crook of your arm, your body wrung completely dry.

And still, still, he doesn’t stop.

If anything, your wrecked, trembling body only fuels him, his thrusts getting rougher, meaner, like he needs to chase that high again, needs to drag every last drop of pleasure out of you.

You can barely hold yourself up anymore, arms buckling against the edge of the tub, whimpering into the marble, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes from the sheer overwhelming feeling of it.

Hamzah leans down, mouth hot against your ear, voice a brutal rasp. "Don’t run baby, take it."

You sob out a broken, desperate sound, but nod anyway, surrendering everything to him.

He pulls out abruptly, making you whine at the sudden emptiness, your walls clenching around nothing, but before you can even think, he grabs you roughly under the arms and flips you onto your back with a wet slap against the marble edge.

Water spills everywhere, your hair clinging to your flushed face, bubbles clinging to your skin, and Hamzah looks down at you like he could eat you alive.

“You're so fucking messy," he mutters, almost in awe, eyes drinking you in, the way your body trembles, the way your thighs are slick and shiny with arousal and bathwater, the way you're staring up at him like he hung the damn moon.

You barely have a second to catch your breath before he’s lining himself up again, pushing into you with one brutal, perfect thrust.

You both moan, raw, guttural sounds that fill the steamy air, and you wrap your legs around his waist immediately, holding him there, locking him deep inside you.

Hamzah braces his hands on either side of your head, his forehead dropping down to yours, breathing hard against your lips.

He thrusts again, and again, deep, hard, slow, grinding his hips down against your clit every time he bottoms out, pulling soft, broken cries from your mouth.

"Fuck," he grits out, voice wrecked. "You're so fucking tight— gonna make me cum so fast—"

You can feel him throbbing inside you, thick and hard, the stretch just enough to make your mind go white.

Your body starts to tense again, that heat building deep in your stomach for the third time, but this time it’s sharp, brutal, overwhelming.

“Hamzah—” you gasp, nails raking down his back.

He knows.

He fucking knows.

He shifts his angle slightly, hips grinding harder, deeper, and that's all it takes.

You break apart with a sob, squirting again, the release sudden and violent, your body jerking under him uncontrollably as wetness gushes around his cock.

"Fuck," Hamzah growls, losing control completely.

The feeling of you tightening, pulsing, soaking him is too much, he thrusts once, twice more, before he slams his hips flush against you and cums hard, spilling deep inside you with a guttural moan, his whole body trembling from the force of it.

You both stay there for a second, bodies locked together, panting, shaking, completely wrecked.

The water is an absolute mess, bubbles everywhere, half of it splashed onto the floor, slick and soapy and deramged, but neither of you move.

Hamzah leans down, pressing his forehead to yours again, both of you still breathing hard, hearts hammering against each other’s chests.

Then, slowly, he captures your mouth in a kiss, messy, slow, desperate, all tongues and heavy breaths and soft, broken sounds.

You kiss him back just as hungrily, clinging to him, swallowing every groan, every sigh.

He pulls back after a long moment, resting his weight on his forearms so he doesn’t crush you, brushing his nose lazily against yours.

"Fuck," he mutters, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. "You’re gonna kill me one day."

You laugh weakly, still trying to catch your breath. "You’ll die happy."

He smirks, dropping another slow, wet kiss to your mouth, your jaw, your throat, trailing kisses everywhere like he can’t stand to be apart from you for even a second.

"Yeah," he murmurs against your skin, voice thick and satisfied. "I will."

The two of you stay tangled together in the wreckage of the bath, the water lukewarm and the bathroom floor soaked, completely destroyed, and neither of you could care less.

a/n: damn. aint no one reading this shit.

[giuli4nna]

i’m BEGGING. for a sub!hamzah fiv. ur my fav writer so i need this from u queen 🥹😣🙏🏿🙏🏿

hamzah’s already leaking all over your hand before you even get an actual rhythm going.

his hips are jerking upwards, his muscles tensing under you. his cock twitches in your fist, messy and wet, so pathetically easy to work.

he’s biting his lip hard, trying desperately to hold it together. but you see the tremble in his thighs, the way his stomach keeps clenching, the desperate little whimpers slipping out even when he tries to bury them in his throat.

you stroke him slowly on purpose. it’s mean.

“you really gonna cum this fast?” you murmur, tone lazy and sweet. “barely even touching you.”

he gasps, tries to shake his head in denial - but his body tells the truth, his hips stuttering up into your hand without meaning to.

“n-no, no, i can’t - f-fuck, please-” he stammers, voice cracking, pressing a hand over his face to hide the bright red flush of embarrassment on his cheeks.

you tighten your grip a little, drag your palm over his swollen tip, and he whines, loud and pathetic.

“you’re making a mess,” you casually tease, glancing down at the way he’s dripping down your knuckles.

he sobs. actually.

“i-i’m sorry, i’ll be good, i swear, please - please don’t stop - feels so good..” he babbles, all breathless and broken.

you smile. “you’re lucky you’re so pretty,” you coo, stroking him faster now, watching the way he starts to fall apart. “c’mon. finish for me.”

he moans, whiny and broken, and when he cums, it��s messy and endless - spilling over your hand, making a puddle on his own stomach. he throws his head against the back of the couch, his body trembling with little aftershocks.

but you don’t stop. not until he’s twitching and shivering and begging, “pl-please, too much, i-it’s too much, can’t - can’t anymore..!”

you finally ease up, palm still sticky with his release. you lean in close, kissing his neck as he gasps for air.

“always so good for me,” you whisper into his skin.

hamzah just whimpers again, utters a small, grateful ‘thank you’ and melts into the cushions under you.

a/n: full fic will perhaps come in the future guys & sorry i did not proofread this i wrote at lightning speed i swaur

xoxo giulia

taglist: @gulicore @slushedup @arroganceisherfavoritecolor @layzerzlovesu46 @babysitter19 @marixoa @starjely @viennawaiits @h-yalexaaaa @freakzah444 @anginluv @gabwilliams @sturniyolo @screamertannie @brlwla @yourstrulykiya @thefantastickid @hamzaholic @isathefantastic @divinesturn @forestlv4r @mayapuma20 @ottakugirl @hamzahsbestone @pulcen @rustnroll @venus-planetof-love @nickmillersn1gf @rock678 @wandas-lovey @guiltyfemcel @axetheboyboss @harrys0nlyange1 @ttlynotme @yassqueen1303

[glorism]

incl: nsfw link, reader wears glasses (self indulgent) , intended lowercase

an: the original literally deleted so i had to pull some shit out my ass ! wrote this at work btw 👿

hamzah’s infatuated with everything you do. your scent, your eyes , your smile, the weird tendencies you have, your lips. basically everything that made you you.

and unfortunately for his little crush on you and his extremely high sex drive, he becomes so needy around you. boner straining in his pants as he tries to think of anything other than the way your whines at a video game are turning him on.

he’d spend countless hours scrolling through his camera roll looking for pictures of you to add to an album, innocently at first until he came across a picture of you with your glossy lips fixed in a pout. glasses falling down your nose slightly as you held a cake. there was icing smeared on your face and the tight t-shirt you wore hugged your boobs.

he couldn’t resist you. the photo wasn’t anywhere near inappropriate, but the thoughts of your plump lips around him had his dick twitching by the second.

you’ll never know that though because his feeling for you would always be unrequited. ( he never even tried to confess )

a frustrated groan left his lips as he raised his arm over his eyes and fell back against his pillow, hands sliding into his shorts as his mind began to flood with thoughts of you.

[slushynoobzbias]

[coolgrl111]

hi miss cool girl! can i request hamzah texts/posts? about literally anything PLEEK

omg wow i have so many requests for him so let me do a little bit of this 🤗

[clouji]

random texts with Hamzah

+ bf hamzah x reader, fluff, crack, (first time doing these fake texts plz be nice 💟)

[cup1dluvhss]

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ SMITTEN, written by cup1dluvhs

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ you try on wedding dresses, joking around, with mandy and claire and decide to show the photos to hamzah, but he has a much different reaction than what you expected.

| warnings: fluff

| taking requests!

you shut the door behind you as you entered your apartment, exhaling a long sigh as you discarded your bag on the floor.

‘hey, have fun?’ hamzah said as you made your way over to the couch, your phone in hand with a little smile on your face.

today, you had accompanied mandy with claire to try on wedding dresses, and at some point in the changing rooms both you and claire had decided to try on ones yourselves, all just for a joke.

however, you were eager to show hamzah the photos to see how he would react. you and hamzah had been dating for almost two years now, so you weren’t sure if he’d be completely weirded out or find it cute, but nonetheless you still wanted him to see what you’d been up to the past five hours you’d been out.

‘mhm. you wanna see what we were doing?’ you said quietly, hamzah’s brows furrowing as you climbed onto the couch next to him, his expression looking hesitant.

‘y/n—what happened?’ he said, almost amused as you unlocked your phone and handed it to him, gesturing to your camera app on the phone screen.

you observed him with a nervous yet giddy expression as he clicked on one of the photos in the gallery, and the second the picture of you in a lacy white floor-length gown popped up, he froze.

‘what do you think?’ you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you bit your lip, finding the lack of words he was exchanging with you slightly alarming.

he continued scrolling through the photos, and you couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous. the expression on his face looked blank, emotionless—but that’s when you noticed the glossy look in his eyes.

‘hamzah—are you—?’ you began, slightly taken aback as hamzah turned to you, shaking his head weakly.

‘yeah—sorry, but you just look—you look so beautiful.’ he mumbled, his gaze darting back to the phone as he continued examining the photos in even closer detail, one of his hands pulling his hoodie sleeve up to wipe one of his eyes.

‘you are so smitten, aren’t you?’ you said triumphantly, taking the phone back from him as he turned to you, rolling his eyes.

‘shouldn’t have shown me that, y/n.’ hamzah said, his hands guiding you into his lap as you giggled softly, hands tying together around his neck.

‘why? you wanna marry me now?’ you teased, watching as the look in his eyes faded from amused to serious, as if you had said something out of line.

‘i’ve always wanted to marry you. since we first met.’ he said, his words making your heart melt as you kissed him gently on the cheek, your body warming at the feeling of his hands resting on your hips.

‘well, times ticking.’ you said as he laughed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

‘you’ve a little while to wait just yet, sweetheart.’

[hamzahsbaby]

when dealer!hamzah tells his friends how much he likes you ♡

warnings/notes: hamzah's friends seeing reader as just a body sigh, hamzah's friends calling hamzah 'lil zah' (lol get it...), might be kind of cringe but whatever, i love dealer!hamzah's little delinquent ass !!!! this hella short but i really wanted to write it ^_^

when you and hamzah started seeing each other, he'll admit, he didn't plan on taking you serious. you were a pretty face; someone he could text when he got horny past midnight, but when his boys asked "you still seeing that one girl?" he found himself smiling like a little boy on christmas. "yeah." he shrugs, half burnt blunt in his hand as he sat in the backseat of his friend's car. "damn, for real? what she got on you?"

he doesn't answer right away, because there's so many things about you he could say; your giggle, the way you get excited whenever he even mentions getting a sweet treat, how much you love to talk, how much you care for him, your smile. "she's different." he takes a hit of the blunt hanging between his fingers. "for real."

his friends clown him, "what? she got that magic pussy or what?" they laugh with each other, but hamzah doesn't find it very funny. "nah. it ain't even about that." he shakes his head. "i really like her."

"damn," one of his friends goes on. "lil zah got it bad huh?" his friend turns in the passenger seat to grab the blunt from hamzah, he passes it off and watches the ember fade as it leaves his hand. "yeah. she's like," hamzah trails off, the word comes to his mind quick, but he's scared to say it outloud. "perfect." he finishes his sentence. "she doesn't make me feel like some lowlife dealer, she sees so much in me i ain't even seen in myself." hamzah looks out the window, you're all he can think about. he'd just dropped you off two hours ago, but with how slow time moved when you weren't with him it might as well been two days.

[hamzaheaven]

Haiiii im scouring Tumblr in search of friends to lovers! or besties with feelings! hcs for Hamzah and im pretty sure ive read all of them lol so could you make do one pretty please??? 🤭

friends2lovers!hamzah headcanons

a/n: oh my fingers have been ITCHINHGGGHGHG for something like this .. i couldve written an entire book on this but let me calm down . HOPE U ENJOY !! thank u for the req anon :-) warnings: none

SFW <3

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

friends 2 lovers!hamzah headcanons<3

friends but crushing:

gets increasingly more nervous around you the longer he knows you

looks at you for just a little too long sometimes

hysterically denies it when you do catch him staring 

literally doesn’t know how to act around you lol

will absentmindedly play with your fingers or the ends of your hair when sitting near him, and will then silently freak out as he zones back in and becomes too aware of what he’s doing lmao

a plethora of edits on tiktok shipping you two, speculation of “are they dating???” “did you see how he looked at her” galore

WAY too shy and awkward to make a move

makes many feeble attempts at flirting a little regardless

flirting to bf-gf !!!!:

freezes completely when you start flirting back

youre a little more bold about it, and he sometimes doesn’t know what to do with allat

making funny, suggestive jokes at him while filming videos or during the podcast, causing him to be even more flustered as it is on camera lol

gets a little unsure and anxious when it comes to physical affection, so it took a lot of pining and hesitation and yearning and frustration before the first kiss :o

after the first kiss yall beat around the bush like a bull in a china shop LMAO

however, slowly but surely, you naturally gravitate towards each other, and absentminded hand-holding and kisses on cheeks start to occur more often

at some point, it all flows so easily, he starts kissing you when he comes (the sfw one yall) and goes

 tbh he just starts introducing you as his girlfriend one day

“since when am i your girlfriend?”    “uhh… now, i guess…? if you want to, i mean…”

you say yes, of course

bf!hamzah:

still a little clueless on how to act now that he has you 

like he’ll quickly look away after kissing you, struggles to maintain eye contact for too long, gets flustered so easily it actually frustrates him a little

HATES pda, but is the clingiest, neediest mfer behind closed doors omg

loves laying with his head between your thighs so you can play with his hair (when he still fucking had hair .)

not that into petnames… finds it more meaningful to call you by your nickname <3

literally stuck to your side once you both touch the sheets

always falls asleep with his head on your chest, so you can, again, play with his hair (or caress his now bald head like polishing a billiard ball idk) 

loveeeeeees your perfume and your scent in general

becomes the actual textbook definition of ‘clingy’ when he’s gone on a cousin walk if u know what i mean hehe

half-lidded, red eyes, a sheepish grin on his face, shamelessly staring at you

followed by a hazy, dreamy, slightly sloppy make-out session iktr

we all know that man has a tendency to whine and moan and whimper no matter the situation so just imagine what he would sound like when kissing........... and other things LOL

he loves to slide his hands underneath your shirt 

ass & thigh guy for SUREEEE woah

a lot of unserious play fighting, verbally and physically

which of course causes him to gag for absolutely no reason

doesnt have a lot of experience in the love department but he feels sooo comfortable with you and you make him feel like he doesn’t need any experience at all to know how to treat & love you so good <3

[sirensslament]

REVERENCE hamzahthefantastic x reader

summary!: He messed up, drifted too far, too long, but when he comes back, it’s not just to say sorry. It’s to feel you, hold you, worship you. Between whispered apologies and breathless moans, love and lust collide in the softest, dirtiest way

Pairing: boyfriend!Hamzahthefantastic x female girlfriend!reader

Trope: established relationship

Genre: smut, fluff, slight angst, terrible writing (mature/18+)

Note: my first request hello???? i hope i lived up to ur standards anon. also, i think this is lowkey terrible now that im reading back. 🥹🥹🫶🫶 based on this ask

Word count: 2.5k

warnings !: explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, praise kink, dom/sub dynamic, light bondage (wrist restraints), mirror play, edging/orgasm control, overstimulation, slight breath-play, possessive language ("mine"), slightswitch!!hamzah, more dom!hamzah

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You haven’t said a word all day.

The sun dipped below the horizon hours ago, but you don’t bother turning the lights on. The only glow in the room is the soft pulse of your phone screen on the nightstand, message after message from him. You don’t read them.

Not because you don’t care. But because you do. Too much.

Hamzah has this way of disappearing without ever leaving. He’s there, physically, but with his headphones in, eyes locked on his screen, nodding absently while your voice dims into the background. And when you finally gathered the courage to say something, to tell him how empty it makes you feel, he looked shocked.

Like he didn’t even realize you were slipping away.

That’s what hurts the most.

So when the front door opens with a soft ding, you don’t move.

You hear his footsteps. The familiar clatter of keys. Then… stillness. Long enough to wonder if he’s walked right back out again.

But then you hear him, low, shaky.

“…I’m here.”

Your eyes remain on the wall.

“I couldn’t keep texting. I needed to see you. To be here. Really be here.”

There’s a pause thick enough to drown in. You feel his presence just beyond the door, like a heartbeat you can’t ignore.

“I messed up,” he says, voice quieter now. “I got lost in all of it--editing, numbers, people who don’t even matter. And in the process, I stopped seeing you. The one person who actually does.”

Your chest tightens.

“I thought you’d be okay with it. That you’d understand. But I stopped checking to see if you really were.”

The door creaks open.

You don’t turn, but in the corner of your vision, you catch him, hesitating in the doorway, eyes dark with regret, with something softer beneath it.

He steps in. Slowly. Like he’s afraid the floor might crack beneath him.

Then he’s kneeling in front of you at the edge of the bed, hands hovering by your waist like he’s waiting for permission he doesn’t think he deserves.

“…Please,” he says, his voice a breath. “Don’t shut me out. I’ll do anything. Just—don’t be done with me.”

You finally look at him. And the moment your eyes meet, something in him unravels. His hands tremble. His jaw clenches like he’s holding back more than just words.

He leans forward, resting his forehead gently against your thigh. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “So fucking sorry.”

Your fingers twitch where they rest in your lap. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, you reach out and grip the front of his hoodie. Tug him closer. Not as a pardon. Not yet.

Just to say I’m still here.

And that’s all it takes for his breath to catch, sharp, like he's breaking apart.

“I’ll do anything,” he repeats, his voice thick now, full of every emotion he tried to swallow for too long. “Let me make it up to you, baby. Please.”

His hands move, slow, careful, as he starts to slide the hem of your shirt up. His touch is reverent, fingertips ghosting over your skin like he's afraid you’ll disappear if he goes too fast.

He looks up at you, searching your face, waiting for the smallest sign to keep going. Want tangled with guilt, devotion laced with need.

And when you don’t stop him, when you breathe out, soft and shivering, and let him peel the fabric away, he exhales like it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to breathe in days.

“Thank you,” he whispers, like you’ve handed him something sacred. ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Your shirt falls somewhere behind you, forgotten. Hamzah is still kneeling, still trembling, but his eyes never leave yours. There’s awe in them, the kind that makes you feel like you’re something holy. Something he’s not sure he deserves to touch, but desperately needs to.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes, almost in disbelief. His voice cracks at the edges, reverent and raw. “I don’t know how I looked past you for even a second.”

He leans forward again, this time kissing the inside of your thigh, soft, apologetic. Another kiss, higher. Then another. He worships in silence, letting his mouth say what his words can’t. And for a while, you let him.

But then you thread your fingers through his buzzed hair, and he freezes.

“Up,” you whisper, tugging gently. “I need to feel you.”

Hamzah rises slowly, climbing over you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he moves too fast. But you don’t. You stay. You let your hands explore the planes of his chest under that hoodie, feel the rapid beat of his heart as your nails skim his skin.

And when you push the hoodie off his shoulders, when your lips brush his jaw, he exhales like he’s melting under your touch.

“I want to make it right,” he murmurs, breath hitching as your teeth graze his neck. “I want to give you everything.”

You hum, lips at his ear. “Then stop waiting for permission.”

That’s when something changes.

Something deep in his eyes flickers. Submissive no longer, still gentle, still reverent, but now charged with purpose.

His mouth crashes into yours, not rough, but intense. Desperate. Like he’s making up for every missed moment in the language of heat and skin and breath. His hands grip your hips, firmer now, like he’s grounding himself in the weight of you, the reality of you still choosing to be here.

“You don’t know what you do to me,” he mutters against your lips, sliding his hand under your thigh and pulling you closer, “how close I’ve been to breaking just thinking about losing you.”

You gasp as he flips you effortlessly beneath him, the sheets cool against your back, his body warm and anchoring above you. That reverent touch is still there, but now it’s laced with command.

“I need to feel all of you,” he says, eyes blazing. “Every sound, every breath. Let me remind you who you belong to.”

He kisses his way down, leaving heat in his wake, until your back arches off the bed and your hands clutch at the sheets. And he doesn’t stop, doesn’t rush. He learns you. Worships you. Makes promises with his tongue, his hands, the way he holds you open like a secret only he knows.

And when you’re breathless, trembling, undone beneath him, he finally rises again, hair tousled, lips swollen, gaze locked to yours with that quiet, dominant fire.

“You’re mine baby, ”he whispers, voice rough now. “all mine.”

Your breathing is ragged, shallow, like your body hasn’t caught up to the storm he’s pulling you into. Hamzah’s hovering over you now, hair messy, chest rising and falling like he’s fighting for control.

But he’s already lost it. For you.

“You’re mine,” he repeats, slower this time, like a vow. His thumb brushes your bottom lip. “Say it.”

And you do, because it’s the truth, because it always has been. “I’m yours.”

Something in him snaps.

His mouth is on yours again, hot, open, claiming, and his hands are already moving, one gripping your thigh, the other fisting the sheets by your head like he needs the anchor.

He grinds against you through his sweats, and even with the layers between you, the heat is blinding.

He pulls back just enough to tear his shirt over his head, his skin flushed, jaw tight. Then he’s tugging at your panties, slow at first, but when you lift your hips and help, he growls, low and possessive, and rips them down your legs.

“I missed this,” he murmurs, spreading your thighs again, mouth already trailing down. “Missed how you taste, how you sound, how you beg.”

You whimper as his mouth returns to you, more intense now, more focused. His tongue is slow and purposeful, circling your clit, teasing until you’re shaking. His fingers press into your thigh to hold you open, firm but never cruel.

And then, one finger, then two, slipping inside you with devastating precision. Curling. Searching. Finding that spot that makes your back arch and your cry catch in your throat.

“God, baby…” he moans against you, his voice wrecked. “You’re clenching so hard. You gonna come for me?”

You nod, breathless, and he doesn’t let up. Tongue flicking, fingers stroking deep, relentless. Worshipful.

And when you come, it’s violent in its softness, your body convulses, thighs squeezing around his head, and he moans like he’s the one unraveling.

But he’s not done.

He kisses his way back up your body, mouth dragging wet heat up your skin, and when he reaches your mouth again, he kisses you like you’re air. Like he’s drowning in you.

“You think I can stop now?” he pants, pressing the head of his length against your entrance, you don't even know when he stripped out of his sweats-- too delirious to pay attention to such a minor detail. “After that?”

You’re still trembling when he pushes in, slow, deliberate, stretching you until you cry out. And he freezes, just for a second.

Eyes locked on yours.

“Look at me,” he whispers. “I want to see your face when I fill you.”

And you do, you watch him watch you as he slides in, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated, his breath catching like it hurts.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You feel unreal.”

He holds there, buried deep, both hands cradling your face now, soft, intimate, until you shift your hips and beg for more.

Then he moves.

Not slow anymore.

Rhythmic. Deep. Every thrust punching out a sound from your throat, every snap of his hips harder than the last.

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head, holding you open, vulnerable, but you’ve never felt safer. Never felt more his.

“You’re mine,” he growls again, breath ragged as he pounds into you. “Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

“Louder.”

“I’m yours, Hamzah. All yours.”

His rhythm stutters, sharp and frantic now. “That’s right. Nobody gets to have this but me.”

Then he slows, drags it out. Deep rolls of his hips. Pushing you to the edge again, and again, until you’re a mess of gasps and pleading.

“Can’t—can’t take it—”

“Yes, you can,” he whispers against your mouth. “You will. One more for me. I know you’ve got it in you.”

And when it crashes over you again, hot, electric, too much, he follows, spilling inside you with a groan that sounds like a man breaking apart.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t pull out. Just holds you, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling in the space between.

“You wreck me,” he whispers. “Every fucking time.”

Your heart’s still racing when he finally pulls you close, wrapping you up in his arms like you’re something fragile.

“You okay?” he murmurs, brushing damp hair from your face.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut against his chest. “More than.”

A silence settles, but it’s full. Safe. Warm.

He kisses the top of your head., and the rest of the evening fades to a blur.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Hamzah doesn’t sleep. Not really. Not when your body’s still warm and soft in his arms, and his brain is replaying every sound you made like it’s his new favorite song.

You shift slightly, still half-asleep, and he kisses your shoulder. “Baby,” he murmurs, deep, guttural. “I need you again.”

You laugh, low and breathy, still left in the remnant of your dream. “Already?”

“No,” he says, voice dark. “Still.”

He pulls you to the edge of the bed, body fluid and focused, like he’s been planning this the whole time. “Come with me.”

Your legs are wobbly, still aching from before, but you follow, trailing after him in nothing but his hoodie, down the hallway until he stops you in front of the full-length mirror.

“Look.”

You blink, dazed, as he steps behind you, hands on your hips. “See how fucking good you look like this? All mine.”

His hand slides between your legs from behind, fingers teasing over your clit again. Your breath hitches. “W-we just—”

“Exactly,” he growls. “And you’re still dripping for me.”

He watches your reaction in the mirror, eyes locked on yours, his other hand slipping up to wrap lightly around your throat again, not to hurt, just to hold. To own. “You’re gonna watch. Every second.”

His fingers start slow, sliding between your folds, rubbing that perfect rhythm again, light, maddening. Edging you back up, higher and higher.

“You don’t come until I say,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear, tone sweetly cruel. “Think you can do that for me, pretty girl?”

You nod, desperate. “Y-yes—yes, I can—”

But he doesn’t stop. He speeds up. Fingertips circling your clit, other hand tweaking your nipple through the thin fabric of your -his- shirt that you must've absentmindedly put on after he completely wrecked you, whispering filthy praise like poetry.

“So sensitive now. So obedient. Fuck, look at how wet you are.”

Just when your legs start to tremble, he pulls away. Smirking.

You whimper, nearly collapsing. “Please—Hamzah, please—”

“Not yet,” he says, gripping your hips and pushing you gently down onto the ottoman in front of the mirror, your thighs spread, his body bare behind you like a sin you’re begging for.

Then, click. You blink as you feel leather. He’s pulling soft cuffs from a drawer nearby, wrapping them around your wrists, binding them behind your back.

“I told you I’d make this right,” he says, kissing your temple. “That means giving you everything. Including the things I used to be scared to want with you.”

He kneels between your legs again. Starts eating you out like a man starved, slow, then messy, then so precise you start begging through tears.

“Hamzah, I can’t—please, please—let me—”

“Not. Yet.”

His voice is dark velvet now, fingers deep inside you while he makes you watch the whole thing in the mirror, your body shaking, lips parted, eyes glazed.

After what feels like decades of cruel licks, sucks and flicks of his tongue, he finally pulls back, breathless. “You’ve earned it.”

He unbinds your wrists gently, scoops you up like you’re weightless, lays you back on the bed again, this time with your legs spread, hands on the headboard. “Hold yourself open f'me.”

You do it, bare, aching, on the edge of begging.

And when he finally sinks back into you, it’s slow and claiming, like he’s embedding himself into your bones. He's so big, so raw that you feel every vein marking the edge of his cock, every curve that hits you in the right spot.

“Now,” he whispers. “Now you come. Hard. All over me.”

You shatter. No build-up. Just fire. Your whole body arches, spasms, and Hamzah doesn’t stop, he grinds into you through it, saying your name like it’s the only thing keeping him breathing.

He follows fast, pulsing inside you with a gasp, forehead pressed to yours. “I fucking love you,” he breathes. “In every way. Every dark, messy, desperate way.”

He holds you after. Cleans you up again. Kisses your hands. Wraps you in blankets and himself like you’re precious.

“You okay?” he murmurs into your hair, fingers drawing circles on your back.

You nod, too soft and full to speak. And he smiles.

“Good,” he says. “Because next time, I’m tying you to the bed.”

a/n: idk. mixed feelings. also i think i js projected my submissiveness through this 💀💀

[giuli4nna]

SUNDOWN

⏾ 12 : NIGHT SIX

the dock is quiet, but nothing about tonight feels calm. sometimes the only way to move forward is to push your way through every ugly truth.

sundown came and went with a soft warmth, the kind that clung to your skin and lulled the waves into a still hush. the last glimmers of light paint the water, shadows stretching long across the dock as the day slips below the lake’s edge.

it should feel peaceful, but you can’t seem to get rid of the tightness in your chest.

everyone else is by the fire behind the house, their laughter occasionally drifting through the trees to reach your ears all the way down by the shore.

mandy hadn’t pressed when you declined her invitation to join - just offered you a small, knowing smile before brushing off your absence with a quick excuse to the rest of the group.

you needed space. needed air. but mostly, you needed quiet.

so, now you’re sat at the very edge of the dock, your legs dangling above the surface, feet just barely brushing the cool water below.

you’ve been sitting there for an hour or two - just watching the light fade away, and selfishly wishing that you could disappear right alongside it.

until, the rustling of grass behind you snaps you out of your daze.

at first, you thought it might be mandy or claire. but the steps are slower, more hesitant. weighted in a way that tells you exactly who it is without even needing to look.

“hey,” you hear hamzah’s voice, low and cautious.

you don’t answer.

he stops a few paces away, the old wooden boards creaking beneath his feet. “can i-”

“no,” you say, cutting him off before he can finish the sentence. you don’t turn to face him.

there’s a pause. a long one. silence sits heavy between you.

“please,” he tries again. “just- just listen to me.”

you stand, brushing your hands off on your thighs. “you don’t really deserve from me anything right now.”

“i know i don’t,” he says quickly, his voice breaking a little. “but i’m asking anyway. please, just give me five minutes, or something.”

you look over your shoulder, meeting his eyes. his expression is tired. apologetic. desperate, even.

but you can’t let that soften you - it’s not good enough.

“i’ve given you so much time, hamzah. i waited for you to just be honest with me - and i thought we were getting somewhere, but you blew up in my face again.”

“i was pissed, alright?” he fires back, his voice rising slightly. “martin was being a dick, and you were just - sitting there. like none of it meant anything to you either.”

your mouth drops open for a moment, stunned. “are you serious right now? you’re mad at me for not defending you, when you’re the one who’s been walking around acting like this whole thing would never have any consequences?”

“i never said that.”

“you didn’t have to.”

he runs a hand over his face, breathing hard. “i didn’t know what to do, alright? i panicked. i said a bunch of shit i didn’t mean.”

you let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “and now you think showing up and saying please instead is enough to undo all of that?”

“i don’t know,” he says, voice strained. “i don’t know what’s enough. i just - i need you to let me try.”

you glare at him, chest heaving, the pain still too fresh to soften. “you don’t get to ask for that,” you whisper, voice trembling. “not yet.”

hamzah steps closer again, and this time you don’t move away. you just look at him like you’re daring him to say something that’ll push you past the edge.

“i didn’t know what to do with the way i was feeling,” he says, slower now, like each word takes effort. “i’ve never had to.. deal with something like this. with someone like you.”

you narrow your eyes. “what the fuck does that even mean?”

“it means i care about you, okay?” he says, his voice cracking. “too much. more than i wanted to. and i didn’t know how to handle that.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “so, what, you decided to ruin it before i could?”

“no! i-” he breaks off, frustrated. “i told myself that if i pushed you away, it’d be easier.”

you laugh, bitter and sharp. “easier for who? you? that’s really convenient, hamzah.”

“i know,” he says quickly, like he’s trying to get ahead of the rising anger in your voice. “i know i hurt you, but i was hurting too-”

“don’t,” you snap. “don’t try to make this about your pain when you’re the one who-“

“i’m trying to tell you the truth-”

“you’re not listening!” you shout.

and when he opens his mouth again, trying to push through your anger, something inside you just.. snaps.

you step forward and slap him.

it’s not hard. not really. but the sound of it echoes off the water like the crack of a gunshot.

he stumbles back a half step, stunned, one hand slightly lifted like he wasn’t sure if he should block it or take it.

the silence after is deafening. you’re breathing hard, eyes watery. you don’t feel an ounce of regret.

“you don’t get to interrupt me anymore,” you say, voice low and trembling. “you don’t get to cut me off or twist the story to make yourself feel better.”

he blinks, eyes wide, lips slightly parted - but he says nothing.

“i was your friend,” you remind him once more, fists clenched at your sides. “long before anything else.”

you take a shaky breath.

“you could’ve come to me. you could’ve told me you were scared or confused. and i would’ve listened. because that’s what friends do.”

for once, he looks like he has absolutely no idea how to respond.

“but instead you humiliated me and made me feel stupid. and you couldn’t even have the decency to be honest about why.”

you fully stare at him, folding your arms tightly across your chest.

“so, do you really think i’m just gonna fall apart every time you throw out some half-assed apology?”

“no,” he says quickly. “no. i know that. i don’t expect you to forgive me. i just - i need to tell you the truth.” he pleads, remembering the advice he received from martin.

he pauses, looking at you expectantly. his eyes search yours, and you can tell he’s holding back something heavier.

when you don’t move, leave, or yell at him, he takes it as permission.

“i’ve never been good at.. any of this,” he says, cautiously moving closer to you. “not with people, or with feelings - i didn’t think this would ever become more than what we agreed on. i kept telling myself it wouldn’t. but it did.”

you scoff under your breath, eyes narrowing. “yeah - and instead of telling me that, you made me feel like it was all in my head - like i was the crazy one for even suggesting it.”

“i know,” he says, his voice cracking. “i know i did. and that’s on me. that’s all on me. i didn’t know how to deal with it, and instead of just talking to you - like we used to - i ruined everything.”

you open your mouth, the fury building again, but he cuts you off - not with force, but with sincerity.

“i have feelings,” he says, grabbing your hand. “for you.”

the words hit like a tidal wave, slamming into you with full force. he says it again, like he needs you to hear it twice to believe it.

“real feelings. and i don’t care about our fucking agreement. i’ve felt all of this while, but it just scared the shit out of me the more real it became.”

you try to pull your hand from his, but his grip tightens just enough to keep you there. his voice lowers roughly, like the words are scraping their way out of him.

“please,” he says again, quieter this time. “just.. please.”

you glance up at him, and for a second, you almost don’t recognize the look in his eyes. for once, there’s no arrogance or cockiness.

just desperation.

regret.

but you’re still angry.

“why?” you snap, yanking your hand free. “so you can call it a mistake again? push me away the second it gets too real for you?”

he flinches as if you slapped him again.

you cross your arms, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “don’t waste even more of my time, hamzah.”

hamzah exhales shakily and runs both hands through his hair. “fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

“i didn’t mean it. what i said about it being a mistake. i just.. panicked. i thought if i shut it down fast enough, i wouldn’t have to deal with-” he pauses, shaking his head like he’s frustrated with himself. “i didn’t want to feel all of it.”

you stay quiet, watching him closely, letting him scramble for his words.

“you’ve been in my head for months,” he finally says. “like - i couldn’t stop thinking about you. even when i tried. especially when i tried. but it all got worse when we came on this fuckin’ vacation, and..” he shakes his head slightly, sifting through all the thoughts running rampant in his mind.

“..and i thought, okay, if we keep it casual, if i just keep my feelings to myself, maybe it won’t ruin everything. but it did, didn’t it?” he says, his voice getting weaker by the moment.

your throat feels tight. you hate how much you want to believe him.

but you can’t let him off that easy.

“so you hurt me to protect yourself,” you say bitterly. “that’s really great, hamzah.”

“no,” he quickly counters. “no, i wasn’t trying to hurt you, i swear. i just- i didn’t know what else to do. i kept telling myself that we were only hooking up, that you didn’t feel anything either-”

“i told you that i did,” you interrupt, your voice sharp.

he nods, wincing. “i know, i know. and i ignored it. i didn’t want to admit it to myself, because the second i say it out loud, it becomes real. and if it’s real, it means i have to face all of it.”

you glance down and catch him picking anxiously at his nailbeds.

“it wasn’t just about how i feel about you - it was about what it would mean for us, for everything we already had. and i was terrified i’d just fuck it all up.”

“you did fuck it up,” you say, folding your arms tighter. “you didn’t just shut me down, hamzah. you made me feel stupid for trusting you.”

he closes the distance between you slowly, like he’s approaching something fragile.

“i know,” he murmurs, sounding like a broken record at this point. “and i hate myself for it.”

by now, you really want to believe him. but you can’t be done just yet.

“i can’t believe you let yourself forget that we were just friends before all of this,” you whisper, voice cracking. “you were the one person i always thought i could count on,” you say, trying to fend off the tears threatening to flood your eyes.

“but you just tried to throw it all away like it meant nothing.” you sniffle.

hamzah swallows hard. his voice is barely a whisper now.

“it didn’t mean nothing.”

you look away, but you can still feel his eyes on you.

“it meant everything,” he says. “that’s the part that scared the hell out of me. you- you scare the hell out of me. everything you make feel.. it’s all new to me.” he confesses, and it’s the most genuine thing you’ve ever heard.

you blink fast, trying to hold yourself together.

“you don’t get to just say that and expect everything to be okay,” you say. “it’s not that simple.”

“i don’t expect that,” he says quickly. “i know it’s not simple - nothing about this is. but i had to say it. i had to let you know i’m not going to be that stupid anymore.”

you study him - really study him - and see the wreckage etched into him; the tension in his jaw, the bags under his eyes, the torn up hangnails decorating his fingers.

“you should’ve said all this sooner,” you whisper.

“you’re right,” he replies. “i should’ve. but i didn’t, and i’m sorry.”

the apology lingers in the air between you. real. raw.

he steps forward one last time, until you’re chest to chest.

“i know it’s been like, a few days, but i miss you,” he says softly. “not just the sex. god, i couldn’t care less about the sex, but - you. i miss being your friend. i miss everything about you.”

you’re silent for a long moment. then, finally, you speak - your voice low and barely steady.

“if you want me to really forgive you, you’re gonna have to earn it,” you murmur. “i’m not just gonna forget about this.”

“i know,” he says. “but i’ll be here for you from now on. i’ll prove to you that i mean it, no matter how long it takes.”

you stare at him.

the man in front of you is not the one who slammed that door shut on you days ago. this is your friend, who you hold real feelings for - more feelings than you’ve ever experienced with anyone else.

he’s stripped bare, desperate, and finally, he’s honest.

you nod, once.

“okay. but i swear, if you screw it up, i’ll-”

“i won’t,” he quickly confirms. “i promise. really promise.”

he lifts a hand hesitantly, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone. you lean into it, just slightly.

when you let him touch you, it’s not out of lust. it’s a quiet surrender. he exhales shakily, like he can’t believe you’re still standing there.

then he kisses you. just to make sure that this is all real.

the moment his lips meet yours, it’s not frantic or hungry. it’s careful - like he’s afraid to press too hard, like he’s anticipating for you to change your mind and push him away.

but you don’t.

you kiss him back, testing the weight of it. testing him. because this isn’t about heat or want. it’s about everything he never said, and everything you were too afraid to ask for.

his hands cup your face so gently it almost hurts, his thumbs brushing across your skin like he needs to memorize the shape of you all over again.

your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. everything starts to unravel at the edges.

he kisses you like he’s trying to apologize with every part of himself. like if he holds you close enough, you’ll be able to feel how sorry he is.

the press of his lips is desperate now, his breath hitching between every pass of his mouth over yours. one of his hands slides behind your neck, holding you there, fingers tangling at the roots of your hair like he’s terrified of letting you go.

you tilt your head, your nose bumping into his, your mouths clashing messily for a second - and it makes you both laugh softly, breathlessly.

it’s tangled. imperfect. real.

and god, it hurts.

it hurts how much you missed this. how much you hate him. how much you love him.

the kiss shifts again - this time slower, deeper, a little sadder. you can taste the pain in it, the way he parts his lips just enough to let you in.

his movements are like a confession, bleeding every unspoken word onto your tongue. he’s tearing himself open and giving you the shreds.

“i’m still mad at you,” you whisper against his lips.

“i’d be worried if you weren’t,” he replies, voice soft.

you look up at him, searching his face. “..but i believe you.”

his gaze wavers, like he’s scared to hope too much. “yeah?”

you nod. he kisses your neck softly. a silent thank-you.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, over and over like a mantra, his breath catching on the words. “i’m so fucking sorry.”

you press your forehead to his, eyes closed. “you better be.”

“i am,” he breathes out. “more than you know.”

you kiss him again - not because you forgive him yet, but because you want to keep believing that he means it.

for the first time, it doesn’t feel like you’re chasing after something empty and meaningless.

one of his hands slides down your back, curling around your waist as he pulls you into his chest. your knees bump together, your noses nudge, your hands rest flat against his heartbeat.

and that’s how you stay.

wrapped in each other’s arms, mouths still brushing in slow, unfinished kisses - until your anger fades into exhaustion and the dock becomes your bed.

you’ve both sunk down, your bodies draped across the dock, tangled together.

his arm is slung over your waist, his hand tucked just beneath the hem of your shirt. you two are pressed together like you can’t stand even an inch of space.

his breath moves slow and even against your collarbone, the sharp edge of emotion having dulled into a drowsy silence.

your fingers toy gently with the fabric of his sleeve, eyes fluttering open every few seconds to glance up at the sky. the stars have come out in full, sprinkling themselves across the darkness above you. beneath you, the dock is firm and cool, the wood slightly damp.

neither of you have made an effort to leave. not when the night fully blanketed over you, not even when the breeze picked up and the air got colder. hamzah only shifted closer, his nose nudging your temple, his thumb brushing idly against your ribs.

finally, your eyes begin to close.

the last thing you feel is the weight of him beside you. the last thing you hear is the sound of crickets humming and the splash of a fish breaking the lake’s surface. there’s a high possibility you’ll wake up covered in bug bites, but you don’t care.

the world fades around you - soft, still, and somehow, for the first time in days, entirely quiet.

you don’t dream. there’s no need to.

he’s already there.

a/n: yay..? yay..!

xoxo giulia

taglist: @gulicore @sturniyolo @slushingmynoob @testdrivethv @ecstqzy @slushyboob @ldrvinyl @xoxoange1l @sleep9times @chrissvalentine @str8fromttpd @elysiumb @hamzahsbiggestfan @ilovezah @screamertannie @i-miss-summer24 @willowpeaks @slushedup @harrys0nlyange1 @venus-planetof-love @milkteabish @xarerie @gabwilliams @slushypoopz @isathefantastic @modernbaseball17 @rock678 @hoe4hamzah @anginluv @slushingkoala @simonegrimes @marixoa @brlwla @cupidsbrainrot

[ur-fav-slushy]

!boyfriendhamzah headcannons

just some thoughts i have about hamzah if he was your fine shyt🤪

•hamzah drives. license or not he is your CHAUFFEUR. he likes to pretend to complain when you ask him to pick you up from work(like boy do your job!) but ofc he’s sitting there right when he needs to be because even tho he is CHRONICALLY LATE to everything he loves seeing your smiley face when you see his car.

“thought you said you weren’t gonna pick me up today?” you tease him while putting your seatbelt on. “i don’t recall ever saying that.” “you said it right after i told you i didn’t have time to shower with you this morning.” “nah i think that must’ve been your other boyfriend.”

•pda isn’t really his thing but when yall are alone? trust his hands are glued to some part of your body. elevator rides = drive by make out sessions like AS SOON as any door closes and yall are left to yourselves his face is an inch away from yours.

you both enter the elevator of your apartment building while talking about your days to each other. “-and then he didn’t even say thank you?! like who the hell shit in his cereal, anyways i jus-” just as the doors close hamzah puts his hand on your face and leans in to mold your lips against his. the kiss progresses further while you move between floors to the point where your both gripping on to each other when suddenly: ding! he pulls away when the doors open and just starts strolling away to his car. mf doesn’t even let you finish your story.

•he says he’s not jealous of the attention you give red and blue but as soon as he sees you chilling with red in your lap on the couch he’s gettting all up in your space wanting to know where his hug at🙄🙄

“what are you watching?” he asks from the kitchen while you sit on his couch with red purring against your hand as you pet him. “love on the spectrum! are you gonna come watch with us?” “us?” he asks as he rounds the corner and sees exactly who else your talking about. “red. go find blue.” he tries to shoo red when you stop him “no. he can sit here with us.” “he can sit next to us.” he reaches for red AGAIN when you swat him away and tell him he’s jealous to which he denies the claim and pouts as he sits next to you.

…somehow throughout watching the episode you guys end up with you spooning him as he cuddles red.(i am firm believer in big boys getting their fair share of little spoon time😤)

•he gets SO distracted when you come to the office, especially when it’s time for him record a podcast or some other form of content. in the podcast videos if you’re really paying attention enough you can see him look off to the same direction over and over again that the fans are starting to suspect he might be looking at SOMEONE instead of just something.

you can overhear martin telling a really funny story from where your sitting and when you look up from your phone to see what hamzahs reaction was to the story you find him already staring in your direction. you lock eyes and he smiles, you gesture for him to listen to martin and hamzah brings his focus back to the podcast but he can’t help but think about how gorgeous you look just sitting all pretty. just for him.

thank you for reading! this was my first time writing for hamzah and if you like what you read PLZ LET ME KNOW BECAUSE I HAVE SO MANY MORE HEADCANNONS FOR HIM!!!! ANYWAYS LOVE YOU FELLOW SLUSHIES MWAH😚💋

[slushynoobzbias]

[clouji]

Fortnite

+ hamzah x reader twitch streamer, fortnite, fluff

💟

You haven't streamed in a long time, so you're excited to play Fortnite and talk to all of your viewers. You have been queuing up for duos, but they're all bunz so far.

"Alright, chat," you shout, moving toward your microphone. "Let me see what random I get. Pray we get someone hot and cracked this time. Or someone whose microphone does not sound like it's been microwaved."

> imsogoated: manifesting a soulmate

> enhatt: im so happy ur streaming again y/n

> bananasummer: girl if he’s hot u better flirt!!!!

The loading screen fades. The lobby pops up. A name, Superspreader77, with a voice that breaks through, nonchalant and a bit raspy.

“Hello, Do you got a mic?”

You turned to the camera, covering your mouth. “Oh shit chat.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hi!!”

He laughs quietly and proudly. "Why, do I sound sexy?"

You choke on your drink. “No you sound like a loser.”

“Ouch.”

“Also you sound cocky and weird.”

“And you sound like a tryhard.”

You pause. "Okay, yeah so what.”

You marked Seaport City and dropped with your duo together. Both of you are still teasing each other.

He steals your holo twist gun. You hit him with a bat in revenge. He saves you from a third party and wants you to say Thank you. Instead, you say

"Fuck yourself."

He chuckles as if it's the funniest thing he heard all day.

"You're kinda mean," he says.

"You're kinda enjoying it."

"Maybe."

In middle of stream, the chat loses its mind.

> bananasummer: CAN U ASK IF HES HAMZAH PLS

> jj771: no bc that’s actually his voice omg

> 1234pop: THAT’S HAMZAH FROM SLUSHYNOOBZ WTF

> destiny: HAMZAH??

You took out your phone for a second to check what the chat was about, and then you searched for the name they were mentioning. You have mutuals, you saw what he looks like, and you nodded as you think he is.... cute.

You squint your eyes. "Hey… superspreader"

"Yeah?"

"My chat thinks you sound familiar."

"Oh?"

"They're saying you sound like Hamzah? from Slushynoobz."

Silence.

“Never heard of them. Is he cute?”

“Stop fucking around.”

“You think I’m Hamzah? Wow I'm so flattered.”

“You’re not denying it.”

“Do you think I’m him?” He repeated the question.

"I think you're a liar with surprisingly good aim."

He sighed. "Damn. You got me. You're scary."

"Woah so you're Hamzah... I've been roasting you for twenty minutes. Your fans might attack me."

He laughs. "Don't worry I'll protect you."

You cringed. “Ew. You like me don't you.”

“Hell nah, I'm interested in someone else already sorry,” he says smoothly. “And she keeps stealing my loot like look–right now.”

You won the match. Because of him. Both of you are stressing and laughing.

Then—he adds you.

No hesitation.

“Nice game,” he says. “Let's play again tomorrow?”

When a friend request shows up. You mute your microphone for a second just to scream then you click accept.

“Yeah. But next time, I’m stealing all of your loots and kills.”

He laughs. “Deal. As long as I get to play with you.”

You check chat.

> imsogoated: I’M CLIPPING THIS

> jj771: my two worlds colliding

> bananasummer: He's your dsstiny

You lean into your mic. “Chat. CHILL. It’s just one game.”

Hamzah’s voice cuts in: “ Well, you're never getting rid of me now.”

“I don't mind that actually.”

💟

[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!

[hamzahsbaby]

dealer!hamzah and his obsession with you calling him ‘daddy’

warnings: daddy kink + sex obviously, if it’s not your thing just scroll !!!

you'd been making out for a good chunk of time, your plushies (majority of which he bought you) and pink and white blankets surrounded you two. hamzah didn't want to make things sexual every single time you guys hung out, but that's just always where things ended up going. and you were never complaining about it though, you were always down for that dick.

"don't be all shy now," hamzah teased, "call me what you called me earlier." he referred to your messages earlier that day where you called him 'daddy' while explaining to him what you wanted him to do to you when he finally came over after not seeing each other for a week. it was partially a joke, moreso just to see how he'd react to the name, but turns out he loved it a lot more than you thought he would. "cmon!" he begged again, his dick twitching in his boxers just at the thought of you saying it in person. "no." you giggled.

"what? do i gotta fuck it out of you?" his lips brushed over yours as he spoke, his voice was deep and whispered. "maybe you do." you whispered back, your boldness catching hamzah by surprise, usually you just gave him exactly what he wanted because of the nerves he gave you. "oh yeah?" he laughed to himself.

hamzah took off his boxers as you took off your shirt. your tits never failed to amaze him, they were just perfect. "gonna take these off too? or do i gotta do everything?" hamzah tugged at your panties, flashing you a smirk. you gave him a nod of approval after rolling your eyes. "i take em off and you call me what you were calling me in those messages? yeah? sounds like a good deal to me."

"fine." you agreed, but you weren't going to give him what he wanted right away. hamzah aligned himself between your thighs, his dick throbbing while rock hard just from the amount of kissing you guys did just minutes before. "how bad you want it?" hamzah teased, he was so smug and fucking arrogant but for some reason it turned you on so much. he thought he was the shit, but to you he was and it made you wet as a waterfall. "bad," you mumbled. "wanna feel you."

"yeah? who's your daddy?" he shoved himself inside you without any warning, pumping in and out, he felt so good, like you were made to wrap around his dick perfectly. "y-you are!" you shouted, forgetting about the deal you made just moments before. "no, gotta say it baby, use your words."

already feeling too cock drunk you couldn't bother to deny his wants anymore. "you're my daddy!" you moaned out, his dick hitting that sweet spot inside of you. "you act all shy and shit, but you like getting fucked all slutty huh?" hamzah said while picking up his pace. your moans and his grunts and heavy breaths filled the room, he watched as your tits bounced with every thrust. "you're fucking perfect."

you tried closing your legs because of how good it felt but hamzah just pried them apart. "feel that good baby?" hamzah smirked to himself as he looked at your face all furrowed and scrunched up from the amount of pleasure. "gonna cum!" you yelled. hamzah's orgasm followed shortly after yours, he fell into the crook of your neck, a few profanities fell from his lips as he came, he tried catching his breath, "didn't think you'd be into all that daddy shit."

"shut up."