freak4hamzah · 6 months ago
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more bf texts theyre soo good🙏
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⋆.ೃ࿔*:・bf!hamzah texts
summary: jealous hamzah and uhhhhhhhm
a/n: i really dont like this im so out of ideas... please send requests ill literally write anything!!!! Im thinking of doing one where hamzah misses yn on vacation lmk if you would be interested in that!!
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kruxton · 9 months ago
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i love reading jawi but pronouncing the words like arabic instead of malay
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onlinesuzie · 2 months ago
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‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ ⊹ ࣪ ˖⟡ ݁₊ .
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words: 4k ⭑.ᐟ
‘infidelity, hamzah smut, f!reader’
feeling distant from your long-distance boyfriend, jake, you turn to his close friend, hamzah, for comfort.
based of this clip
── ⊹ ࣪ ˖♡˖ ࣪ ⊹ ──
You sit on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, staring at Jake’s message: “Can’t talk tonight. Work’s crazy. Miss you, though.” The words feel hollow, a pattern that’s become all too familiar. It’s the third time this week he’s canceled. The hope you’d been holding onto fizzles out. With a heavy sigh, you toss the phone onto the bed, the sound barely registering as it bounces off the pillow.
You stand and walk cautiously toward the mirror, your footsteps soft on the carpet, as if afraid to disturb the quiet. As you reach the mirror, your eyes meet your own reflection, but it doesn’t feel like you. It’s almost like you’re staring at someone else—an older, future version of yourself, worn down by disappointments like this.
Your hand rises instinctively, running through your hair in a familiar, comforting gesture. But this time, it doesn’t help. Your lip begins to tremble, betraying the storm of emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried. You bite down on the corner of it, trying to regain control, but it’s no use. The quivering only intensifies.
And then you see it—her. The version of you that you’ve been trying to ignore. Her face—your face—scrunches up, eyes brimming with tears you’ve been holding back for too long. The feelings you’ve been shoving down, the doubts, the loneliness, all come rushing to the surface.
For a brief moment, it’s like you’re watching someone else, but then it sinks in—she’s not some stranger. She’s you. This is who you are now. This is the you that you've been trying not to acknowledge, and suddenly, there's no escaping it.
A year ago, you would have never imagined feeling this distant from Jake. Back then, everything was easy—casual dates, late-night talks, and plans that didn’t involve long stretches of silence or missed phone calls.
When he first got the job offer in another city, you were nothing but supportive—proud, even. It was a huge opportunity, a chance for him to grow, and you both believed you could make long-distance work. In the beginning, it wasn’t so bad. He made an effort, calling regularly and visiting whenever he could. You could still feel the connection, the excitement in his voice when he talked about his new life.
But as the months passed, things started to shift. His job began to consume more of his time and energy, and slowly, the calls became less frequent. The visits, fewer. Little by little, the relationship stopped being about staying close and became more about pretending you still were. The connection that once felt so strong started to feel more like an echo of something you used to have, fading with each passing day.
A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts, snapping you out of the haze you’ve been lost in for who knows how long. You sigh, dragging yourself up from the bed and making your way to the door, not really in the mood for company but too curious to ignore it. When you open the door, Hamzah is standing there, leaning casually against the frame. In one hand, he’s holding a six-pack of your favorite drinks, the kind you only treat yourself to on rare occasions. In the other, his phone dangles loosely from his fingers, like he’s just texted someone and barely cares for a response.
His eyes meet yours, and that familiar, laid-back smile spreads across his face, effortless as always—like he’s walked into a room full of sunshine and not the quiet mess of your evening. There’s something comforting about the way he stands there, completely unfazed, as if he’s somehow known exactly when to show up, without being asked. For a moment, you forget the weight on your shoulders, caught up in the ease he carries with him.
“Thought you might need some company,” he says, stepping inside as if he’s been here a hundred times before. You smile, grateful for the distraction, and motion for him to follow you into the living room.
Hamzah and you have always existed in a quiet ease, a comfort that came naturally. As Jake’s closest friend, he’s been there from the very beginning, like a constant thread woven through your life. Over time, your friendship grew, effortless and warm, a steady presence you could rely on. But recently, something has shifted, subtle yet undeniable.
The space between you feels different now—heavier. You catch yourself watching him, eyes lingering just a moment too long, your breath catching in your throat before you force yourself to look away. His laughter, once part of the background noise, now pulls you in, and you find yourself laughing with him a little too easily, a little too hard, as if his words have suddenly gained new weight.
It’s in the silences, in the moments where nothing is said but everything is felt, that you notice it most—the quiet pull between you. It hums softly, growing stronger with each glance, each accidental touch. And though you try to push it aside, pretend it’s nothing, the truth sits quietly in the back of your mind: something between you has changed, something deeper, something that wasn’t there before.
You hand Hamzah a drink and settle beside him on the couch, the cushion sinking under your weight. The familiar ease of his presence wraps around you, comforting and safe.
The first few sips of your drink go down easily, the alcohol warming you from the inside, softening the edges of the day. For a while, conversation flows like it always does—effortless and light. You talk about work, the lives of mutual friends, stories from your past that spill out without much thought. It’s the kind of chatter that fills the spaces between you without demanding anything more, but with each passing moment, the tension in your chest begins to unravel, loosening its grip.
Your laughter, once cautious, comes more freely now, bubbling up between sips. You can feel the weight of the evening lifting, his presence anchoring you.
“So, what’s going on with Jake?” Hamzah asks eventually, his voice gentle but curious. He doesn’t push; he never does. That’s part of what makes him so easy to talk to.
You hesitate, unsure of how much to share. “He’s… busy. Work’s just been taking up all his time. I don’t even remember the last time we had a proper conversation,” you admit, your voice dropping. You look down at your drink, swirling it around in the can, avoiding Hamzah’s eyes.
He nods, listening closely, his eyes steady on yours as you speak. He doesn’t interrupt, his silence offering you space to pour out your thoughts without feeling pressured. It’s the kind of silence that feels intentional, like he’s holding the moment open just for you. “He’ll come around,” Hamzah says after a moment, though his tone is more hopeful than certain. There’s a pause before he adds, “But… you seem pretty distant yourself lately.”
You glance at him, surprised by his observation. “I guess I just… I don’t know. It’s hard to keep pretending everything’s fine when it doesn’t feel that way.”
The conversation shifts after that—lighter topics, old memories, shared jokes—and for a little while, you forget about your worries. Hamzah’s laughter is contagious, the way it always is, and every time you laugh, you find yourself leaning a little closer to him, your hand occasionally brushing against his arm as you gesture or fidget.
At one point, after an especially funny story, you’re both doubled over with laughter, your hand instinctively reaching for his arm to steady yourself. Your fingertips linger there just a little too long, resting against the warmth of his skin. You feel the heat of the contact pulse through you, and when you realize how long your hand has been there, you start to pull it away, but Hamzah doesn’t move. If anything, his arm tenses slightly under your touch.
You glance up at him, catching his eye. For a split second, you think about pulling away, about creating some distance between you. But you don’t. You stay there, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.
Another drink later, and the distance between you has all but disappeared. Hamzah leans back into the couch, turning slightly so he’s facing you, his knee brushing against yours. You feel the light pressure of his leg against yours and the buzz of alcohol making your head just a little light. You try to focus on the conversation, but all you can think about is how close he is—how close his hand is to yours, how you can feel his eyes on you, the tension thickening between you with every second of silence.
And then it happens— that disappearing moment when laughter gently fades, and the room falls into a gentle hush. The air shifts, the warmth of shared jokes now a distant memory. You turn to Hamzah, and your eyes meet his, catching him in a gaze that holds an unspoken truth. His smile has disappeared, replaced by an expression so intense it feels almost sacred, as if it taps into something beyond the everyday, something only the heavens might grasp.
In his eyes, you see a silent understanding, a raw vulnerability that makes you feel seen in a way you’ve rarely experienced. The space between you grows distant, the silence now a living thing, pulsating with the weight of what’s unspoken. The laughter that once filled the room seems like a distant echo, leaving behind a poignant stillness that amplifies the closeness between you. Each second stretches into eternity, and you find yourself enveloped in this heavenly feeling.
The tension, the feeling—it’s like something’s been building between you for weeks, maybe months, and now it’s come to a head.
You clear your throat, trying to shake the feeling. “I should probably head to bed soon,” you say, though part of you doesn’t want the night to end. Part of you doesn’t want this moment to end.
Hamzah hesitates, his gaze still locked on you, then nods slowly. “Yeah, it’s getting late.” But neither of you moves. The silence stretches on, thick and tense, and you realize just how close he’s sitting next to you. Too close.
Before you can stop yourself, the words escape. “Do you ever think…” you start, but the sentence dissolves, leaving the thought unfinished. You struggle to find the right way to complete it. Do you ever think about me the way I’ve been thinking about you?
Hamzah turns to face you completely, his eyes locked onto yours with a searching intensity. “Think about what?” he asks softly. Yet, in the depths of his gaze, you sense he already knows where your thoughts were leading, as if the question has been hovering in the space between you all along.
You open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words don’t come. Instead, you swallow it down, hoping only you can taste the tension burning in your throat.
But Hamzah leans in, moving slowly as if to give you every chance to pull back. His approach is cautious, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you might want him to stop. He pauses, close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin, his gaze darting between your eyes and your lips, weighing whether to close the distance or hold off.
You feel an almost magnetic pull, an irresistible urge that makes it impossible to move away. The closer he gets, the more intense your own desire becomes, pushing aside any doubts. You want this—more than you should, more than feels reasonable.
His lips brush against yours, a whisper of warmth, hesitant and gentle, as if he's waiting for you to retreat. But instead, you lean in, and the kiss deepens, a cascade of heat unfurling through you. His hand glides to your face, his fingers cradling your jaw with a scorching touch.
The kiss grows richer, more intense, each movement burning with a feeling that makes the room feel as though it's closing in around you. The intensity of his touch, the urgency of his lips, meld together to create a symphony of feeling-an outpouring of passion. Every lingering second becomes an expression of all that has been silently yearned for, flowing freely.
You pull back slightly, breathless, and whisper, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
Hamzah's eyes are dark, You've never seen them that way before. He hesitates for a moment, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek, and then he confesses, "I know we shouldn't... but fuck, I want you so bad."
His words penetrate through your fears, the last the walls of doubt crumbling. You know you should stop. You know this isn't right. But the way he looks right now, his dark eyes almost whispering and pleading for you. His tan skin decorated with a thin sheen of sweat. These feelings. They are too strong to ignore, now all you can think is how much you want him. How good he would feel above of you.
Hamzah's lips are soft and warm against yours, and as they touch again, a rush of heat floods through you. Everything else-the distance with Jake, the guilt, the confusion-fades into the background. His hand moves to the side of your face, his thumb brushing gently along your jawline, while his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer. It feels like he's been holding back as much as you have, and now, in this moment, neither of you can resist.
Your heart races, your skin tingling everywhere he touches you. It feels like your body has come alive, like you've been craving this closeness for so long without realizing just how much you needed it.
Breaking away for air, you leaned your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily. "Hamzah, I need you. Fuck… I think I’ve always needed you" you whispered, your voice hoarse. Hamzah's hands traveled down your body, tracing the curves of your waist before resting on your hips, pulling you closer.
"You have no idea how beautiful you are," he murmured against your lips. "I've been dreaming of touching you, of feeling every inch of your skin." His words darting through your body, and you couldn't help but compare this moment to your experiences with Jake, your boyfriend. You'd never felt this desired, this wanted, not even in the early days of your relationship.
Hamzah's hands slid beneath your shirt, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your back with a feather-light touch. The warmth of his hands against your bare skin made you instinctively arch into his touch, a shiver of pleasure dancing through you.
"I want to make you feel good, so good that you forget about him” he murmured, his voice a low promise as his breath fanned over your neck, sending a trail of heat across your skin. His lips followed, planting a trail of kisses down your throat. When his lips reached the delicate spot where your neck meets your shoulder, he pressed gently, sucking with a tender, deliberate intensity. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you gasped, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as if anchoring yourself against the wave of pleasure. The room seemed to shrink around you, leaving only the intimate space where his touch and your response melted in perfect harmony.
Guiding you backwards, Hamzah led you towards the bedroom, his kisses trailing down your body as he went. He knelt before you, his fingers softly unbuttoning your shirt, revealing your bra covered breasts, taking it off. "You're breathtaking, Jake doesn’t deserve you" he whispered, looking at you through his eyelashes, as he gently cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, making them harden against the cool air.
You let out a soft moan, feeling a rush of pleasure between your thighs as Hamzah's mouth claimed one nipple, his tongue swirling and sucking gently. His hands traveled down, tugging at your pants, sliding them down your legs until you stood before him in just your underwear.
His gaze lingered on you with as if he were beholding something otherworldly. Every curve and contour of your body seemed to draw his attention like a work of art displayed in a hallowed temple. His eyes traced your form gracefully. Each glance was a silent prayer, each sigh an acknowledgment of the divine grace he saw in you. In his eyes, you were not just flesh and bone, but a living embodiment of something ethereal.
"Lie down," he instructed, his voice blending urgency with tenderness. You complied, your heart abusing your ribcage with its intensity as you watched him remove his clothes. Each movement was purposeful, revealing a physique crafted with an artist's precision. His chest glistened with sweat under the soft light.
He joined you on the bed, his body’s warmth contrasting with the cool sheets. His hands, free from the confines of fabric, reached out with a gentle touch. Fingers traced the curve of your thighs with a gentle grace, as if mapping an uncharted secret world. Slowly, deliberately, he spread your legs. His touch, firm and tender. Each caress, each shift of position, forced a sound to push its way out of your lungs.
"I want to taste you," he whispered, his hot breath spilling over you. "I want to make you come with my mouth." With that, he lowered his head, his tongue tracing your slit through the cotton. You whimpered, feeling the damp fabric against your sensitive clit, and then he pulled the fabric aside, exposing you.
Hamzah's tongue descended into your wetness, rough and insistent. He licked and tasted everything that was softly spilling out of you, his lips sucking gently on your swollen clit. You squirmed beneath him, your hands tangling in his curly hair, pushing him in deeper. He moaned against you, the vibrations forcing your legs to shake.
"Oh God, Hamzah," you cried out, your hips bucking against his mouth. He continued to feast on your pussy, his tongue flicking and probing, discovering every inch of you. You were so close, so close to reaching a rush of ecstasy, when he suddenly stopped, leaving you gasping and desperate.
"Please, don't stop," you begged, your voice quivering.
"I want you to come with my cock inside you," he growled, his deep eyes blazing with desire. He rose looking down at you with an insatiable need. His attention was almost primal. Positioned over you with an assertive dominance, he seem consumed by an urgent hunger. There’s an unsettling edge—an impatient urgency that brushes aside any sense of gratitude. He positioned himself between your thighs, his hard length pressing against your entrance. You feel him against your clit, your body responding with uneven gasps of air. With one smooth thrust, he filled you, stretching and filling you in a way you'd never experienced before.
Hamzah began to move, his hips snapping forward as he set a relentless pace. He plunged into you again and again, his cock hitting far deep within you, stretching you far beyond what you thought was possible. You cried out, your body on fire, every nerve alight with euphoria.
"You feel so fucking good," he exhaled forcefully, his voice shaking slightly. "So fucking good..."
His words echoing in your head as you met his thrusts, wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing him even deeper. You felt that rush of pleasure in your belly, tighter and more intense than you'd ever experienced.
"I'm close," you whispered, your voice breathless. "Oh God, Hamzah, I'm so close..."
He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing circles as he pounded into you. The combination of sensations pushed you over the edge, and you cried out his name as your orgasm erupted through you. You clenched around his cock, draining him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body.
Hamzah groaned, his body stiffening as he exhausted himself deep within you. He collapsed onto your heaving chest, his breath warm against your sensitive nipples. You lay there, entangled in each other's arms, your hearts racing and your bodies glistening with sweat.
The room is quiet now, the air thick with the weight of everything that just happened. You lie beside Hamzah, the warmth of his body still lingering on your skin, your mind spinning in a thousand directions at once. The adrenaline from earlier has faded, replaced by a strange sense of calm, like the world has paused for a moment to let you catch your breath. But even in the silence, the reality of what you’ve done echoes heavy between you.
Hamzah lies on his back, one arm wrapped protectively around you, drawing you close against his chest. His other hand moves with a gentle, absent-minded rhythm, tracing soothing circles on your bare shoulder. The room feels almost too still, the darkness pressing in with an oppressive quietness, and in this silence, your thoughts begin to churn once more.
You shift slightly, resting your head against his chest, finding reassurance in the steady, reassuring cadence of his breathing. For what feels like an eternity, neither of you speaks, both caught in the reflective pause. As the minutes stretch into an uneasy quiet, the weight of reality—the consequences of what has happened—begins to press in, casting long shadows over the fleeting warmth and intimacy you once felt.
“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, your voice barely audible in the quiet room. The weight of the situation presses down on you—Jake, your relationship, what this means for everything.
Hamzah tightens his grip around you. He tilts his head down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. His lips linger there for a moment before he whispers, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.”
His voice is soothing, but it’s not enough to stop the growing anxiety building inside you. How can you not worry? Everything has changed now. You didn’t just cross a line—you shattered it. And as much as you want to stay in this moment, wrapped up in Hamzah’s warmth, you can’t ignore the reality that waits outside this room.
But for now, you let yourself sink into the comfort of his embrace, trying to quiet the noise in your head. You close your eyes, trying to let yourself believe, if only for a few more minutes, that everything will be okay.
And then your phone buzzes on the nightstand.
The sound cuts through the quiet room like a blade, pulling you back to the present. You freeze, your heart in your throat as you reach for the phone, dreading what you might see on the screen.
Your hand trembles as you pick it up, and your breath catches in your throat when you see Jake’s name flash across the screen.
“I’m outside. Can we talk?”
── ⊹ ࣪ ˖☆˖ ࣪ ⊹ ──
notes: i’m quite proud of this fic and i hope you guys love it!! comment any suggestions for what you liked and i’ll make a note of it!! :]
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tastesousweet · 29 days ago
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⭒ blurb : the fever
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bf!hamzah x poc!reader
summary : blurb based on this request!!!! or hamzah takes care of reader while she's sick
mickey speaks : i hope u enjoyyyy, more of my hamzah works can be found here <3 also i’m updating my tag list so pls lmk if you’d liked to be tagged in any fics in the future
─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────
there's no worse way to start your morning than in a pool of your own sweat and reading a thermometer displaying 101.2°F.
without any strength to attempt to leave your bed and no appetite to drive you to perseverance, you're left slumped lazily against your hot pillow.
just as your blinks begin to slow and your eyes droop low, an irritating sequence of vibrations beam from your phone. you pinch your eyes and let out a slightly dramatic but definitely necessary whine that turns into a groan as you stretch your arms far above your head.
you take your time, hoping whoever is waiting on the other line takes the hint by the forth ring that you’re busy drowning in your misery. you open your eyes just a peek before the ringing completely stops.
a relieved sigh comes over you as you lift your plush comforter over your head in hopes of reducing any natural light your windows allow to shine into your cluttered room.
it rings once more.
“fuck!” you let a blip of rage slip out in a seething tone, kicking your feet against your mattress harshly (an immature way of expressing yourself which makes you feel fifteen again; annoyed by your old obnoxious alarm clock).
you pull the oversized covers from your face and lean over to fiddle and grab your phone from its charging dock on your jagged, wooden night stand.
your tight expression is slightly shattered when you see the large text and tiny image in the corner of the facetime call displaying your boyfriend’s name and face.
you swipe to answer, falling back onto your pillow and covering your torso with the comforter once more (after having stripped of any clothing throughout the sleepless night).
your pouty face goes to the corner of the call as hamzah displays largely across your screen. he’s set his phone on top of his dashboard, still focused on actively driving when you answer.
“heyy, whatcha’ doing? haven’t responded to my texts at all, i was gettin’ worried..” his tongue plays with the gum in his mouth, popping multiple tiny bubbles at once.
your voice gives an unexpected voice crack, “i’m doing terrible,” hamzah’s a bit thrown off by your response but you don’t acknowledge his facial expression, instead you rub your eyes, “where are you going?”
“what happened?!” he arrives at a red light and looks at you while he’s stopped, “did you not sleep well? i was on my way to get you- thought we were playin’ pickleball today with martin and mandy.”
“eughhhh, i totally forgot about that- i’ll have to text and tell them i can’t anymore i’m like dyinggg, h. my temperature’s over 100.” you sniffle and groan.
“nah, don’t worry about that i’ll tell ‘em we can’t make it. you just stay put and i’ll be over in like- just a sec, okay?” he keeps glancing over to look at you which you appreciate, though you prefer for him to pay attention- but you don’t necessarily feel like getting into a back in forth with him over his driving habits right now.
“m’kayyyy you’re the best, love you.” you thank him gently, blowing a kiss towards the camera.
“mmm i like hearing that. you’re my favorite.” he smiles to himself, “yeah, um, i’ll see you in a bit- maybe try and get some sleep though, girl?”
“i’ll try,” you whisper.
“okay, be right there, love you.”
✧₊⁺
you’re not sure how long hamzah’s been at your side when you eventually wake up again to him sat next to you, looking through one of your many 2000s magazines.
you tap his knee silently, seemingly in a better mood after some well needed rest and the comfort of waking up in hamzah’s presence.
he displays a faux since of shock, “wow and she’s somehow even prettier when awake!”
you smile and slip your hand under your cheek as you lay and look at him, “hi, when’d you get here?”
he places your magazine down next to him, "got here maybe two hours ago? i stopped by a store and grabbed you some medicine to take and some other essentials like kitkats and iced tea- did you know hilary duff and lindsay lohan had hella back and forth beef??"
you nod, "duh, of course i do! and getting me snacks wowwww you're so perfect, huh?"
hamzah playfully shrugs his arms up and down, "a little somethin' like thattt, just for you."
you laugh but begin to cough uncontrollably, to which hamzah screws his face up in faux disgust; you stare, "thanks."
“nahh i’m playing,” he grabs one of your hands and kisses the back of it, “do you need me to do anything?”
“can you come brush my teeth with me?”
he nods immediately, standing up and picking your body (wrapped delicately in your covers) up and carrying you bridal-style into the bathroom down your skinny hallway.
on the way there you laugh again which leads to another coughing fit which you cover as much as you possibly can. hamzah teasingly stretches you away from him whining out an “eeuuuhhhh!!!” but you are quick to give him a glare that has him giggling and apologizing by curling you back into his broad chest smacking a few million kisses onto your cheek.
you push his face away in warning, “stop it you’re gonna get sick, stupid!!!!”
✧₊⁺
hamzah stands between your legs as you sit on the counter and brush your teeth. he thinks you look like an angel- or maybe a tooth fairy with the suds elegantly surrounding your mouth. despite your runny nose, hot, clammy skin and sleepy eyes, the white comforter manages to compliment your complexion in the most beautiful of ways. the sight in front of him was weirdly so angelic… “so pretty…” he lets his thoughts trickle into the air.
you pause your movements and look up at him starting to grin before scooting to the side and spitting into the sink. he grins and decides to joke with you a bit, scratching the back of his neck and blowing a raspberry into the air next to him, “did i say pretty?? i meant so ….sickly??” he squints his eyes a little trying to figure out where exactly he’s going with this, “because you’ve come down with something…. bad.”
you roll your eyes and shake your head, “it sounds like you want to call me beautiful…” you bat your eyelashes as you quote him through a mouthful of toothpaste and an insane urge to laugh.
hamzah laughs for you and wipes his eyes exclaiming, “enough! let’s wrap this up.”
✧₊⁺
hamzah made you take medicine and eat top ramen with him before you lay back down in bed. now you're lying up against your headboard watching reruns of sabrina the teenage witch with blankets curled up to your chin.
when hamzah finally comes back into your room he knocks twice before stepping into the space; he’s adorned with an arrangement of white tiger lilies in his hand and a small smile on his face.
you’re absolutely shocked, “what the fuck??? h, when’s you have time to get those?!” you prop yourself up and he hands them to you.
“i saw a little shop that was closing up when i was on my way back to my place just now; it’s cute you’d like it,” he moves to lay next to you.
“thank you,” you look at him lovingly, “for everything today; you treat me so well. how were the kitties doin’?”
“mhmm, they’re fine missin’ you though.” hamzah feels a since of pride from your words, taking the flowers from your hand and setting them on your nightstand (next to a roll of toilet paper you’ve used for your runny nose and a few empty water bottles). he turns back to you and brings his hand up to hold your face, “you’re so easy to treat well.” he leans closer to your face and your eyes shift down to his lips before you’re pulling away.
you playfully scoff and shake your head no, “nuh uh, i’m not getting you sick!”
“baby i’ve been around you all day and feel fine!! my immune system is the best there is, ‘promise.” he traces your lips with his thumb gently.
“you’re sooo…” you mumble the scold, turn on your side to move away from him.
he leans over you giggling, “amazing?” he kisses your cheek. “perfect?” another closer to your lips, “you’ve said them all before!” he sets a sweet kiss to your pouty lips before retreating back lie against the pillow next to you.
“i was gonna say needy but those work as well…” you grumble and smile to your self, “hold me?” you ask a bit louder, peeking over your shoulder to see hamzah drop his phone and immediately give you the attention you want from him, nuzzling you close and kissing your neck softly.
✧₊⁺
a few weeks later via Out of Character on YouTube
martin: yeah, and you’ve been freaking sick the past week and a half! how was that?
hamzah: very whimsical and magical. i’m kidding obviously it sucks and y/n was actually the one to give it to me! i’m not blaming but i am.
martin: i think that’s the worst part about having a girlfriend like if she’s sick you’re gonna get sick too- mandy’s like a freaking warrior though she’s never sick. it’s actually really odd.
hamzah: it’s because she’s a nurse, i think
martin: actually dude?
hamzah: yeah i read about it (he’s lying)
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cesilly · 25 days ago
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- session
tutor hamzah x reader - requested by this ask!
18+ MINORS DNI
contains: fingering, oral (fem recieving)
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“are you listening?”
probably the tenth time you’ve been asked this question in the past hour.
sighing, you meet his eyes. your tutor is looking at you, eyebrows raised, expecting an answer.
“i’m trying. didn’t know that psych would be this boring,” you mutter, glancing at your blank notebook. it should be filled with notes by now, but you were completely unable to focus on the lesson he’s attempting to teach you.
“operant conditioning isn’t boring.” he deadpans, flipping around pages in his textbook. “and, it doesn't really look like you’re trying." he juts his chin out in the direction of the empty paper in front of me. "i mean, why come to me if you won’t pay attention?”
“professor told me you’re the best.” you look over at him, tossing your pen down onto the counter you guys are sitting at in the kitchen of his small apartment.
to be honest, your teacher wasn't wrong. he’s a really good student, and you can tell he's genuinely been trying to help you learn throughout these past few sessions.
unfortunately, each time you visit his apartment you're more focused on watching his lips rather than actually listening to what's coming out of them.
he takes off his glasses, rubbing his temples as he lets out a small huff. “do you just want to end now? can’t spend another hour on this if you’re going to come back next week still clueless.”
“god. okay, no. i actually need this.” you slide off the stool, pushing your notebook out of the way.
lifting yourself up to sit on the counter instead, you look down at him with a softened gaze. “can you just.. explain it again, please? the operating conditioner..?”
“operant conditioning.” he corrects.
“yeah. that.” you nod, sitting up straight. “i’ll listen this time.”
he stares at you, clearly contemplating his options in his mind.
“fine.” he replies, grabbing his glasses off the counter.
you watch as he lifts up the hem of his tank top, revealing his lover stomach as he cleans off his lenses. an unfamiliar feeling arises in your abdomen when you catch a glimpse of the hem of his boxers, and a happy trail disappearing within them.
with your eyes trailing each motion, he slides his frames back on. they sit atop the bridge of his nose perfectly. his tongue darts out to wet his middle finger. he uses it to flip back the pages of his book, returning to the beginning of the lesson.
his arm flexes when he roughly jots down a little note in the margin. you squint, trying to make out the words, but his handwriting is basically unintelligible.
"ready? i can go slower this time, if you want." he offers.
you subconsciously insert that phrase into a million other situations, none of which have anything to do with studying, but have everything to do with him.
you still recall how you waited outside the door before your first ever session, fully prepared to understand the material you needed help with. except, when you finally saw the man you had been texting back and forth with about your poor grades, you realized you were absolutely done for.
when you first reached out to your tutor, hamzah, you weren't sure what to expect, but you do know that the very last thing you anticipated was to be met with the most handsome face you've ever seen when that door was opened.
you two had grown somewhat of a friendship, but it was all still very tense. he just wanted to get the work done, you understood that, but you just couldn’t help yourself. you spent hours daydreaming instead of listening to him.
you feel him poke your leg with his pencil, snapping you back into the present. goosebumps arise on the surface of your skin.
“hm? oh, yeah, i’m ready. you don’t need to..”
you notice his glasses slipping down the slope of his nose.
“um, go slower. you don’t have to.”
he nods, his face twisted into a somewhat confused expression. “alright, then. we can start with reinforcement and punishment. these are the two main functions, the most important ones.”
this is the part where your mind begins to wander, but for some reason you seem more inclined to pay attention this time around.
“so, reinforcement, right? it increases the likelihood of a certain behavior to be repeated again, usually through adding or removing something pleasant in order to boost the behavior.” hamzah continues.
“something like, um, praise.” he explains.
your heart skips a beat.
he swallows harshly, and you watch his adam’s apple bob up and down.
“yeah, so, there’s reinforcement, and that goes hand in hand with punishment.” he flips a page.
“punishment would be, like, the opposite? right?” your voice comes out sounding much shakier than you anticipated. “like.. degrading?”
he looks up at you through thick eyelashes.
“yeah, good. it’s exactly like that.” the tone of his voice reverberates through your bones.
you feel winded, out of breath for some odd reason. you squeeze your thighs together just a little bit tighter.
his gaze flicks down to your legs so quickly you would’ve missed it if you blinked.
fuck.
you inhale sharply through your nose when he locks his eyes with yours. the silence in the air is so prominent, it almost makes you squirm.
brows knitting together as you stare at him, you watch as his lips part. he wets them with his tongue before hesitantly whispering,
“don’t get me distracted.”
that sentence is enough to spur you on.
acting on your urges, you reach for his glasses with your index finger, sliding them back up to the top of his nose. “good tutors don’t have any trouble staying focused, right?”
you can hardly believe what just came out of your mouth, but you have no choice but to go with it now.
time seems to come to a complete stop when he closes his textbook, not even bothering to fold the corner of the page he left off on like he usually does.
“they don’t, unless their student never listens.” his lips twitch into a smirk as he speaks.
“it’d be pretty hard to focus if they saw that she’s constantly staring at them instead of being good and taking notes.” he replies, setting the heavy book down on the counter with a thud. “which seems to be my situation, yeah?”
you hadn’t realized he noticed. he always seemed so enamored with the lessons, but it just now dawns on you that he might’ve just been using them as a distraction from your watchfulness.
“guess so,” you whisper, for lack of a better response.
all of the small things; the glances, the accidental brushes of hands and legs, the compliments you’d received upon answering a question correctly - everything seems like it was building up in preparation for right now.
"god, you're the worst." he exhales. pushing up off his stool. his palms cover your knees, roughly forcing your legs apart. "just fucking c'mere."
upon opening your mouth to speak, you’re instantly silenced when hamzah forces himself into a standing position between your thighs, tipping his head back to capture your lips in his.
he's hungry, needy. it shocks you to your core.
his hands smooth over your thighs, waist, arms, leading up to your face. you lean into his touch, clasping your hands around his neck as his mouth works against yours with ease.
"this is what i have to do, huh?" he breathes out inbetween sloppy kisses. "this gonna make you pay attention?"
a soft whine escapes into his mouth as you try and conjure up a response, his lips traveling down to your neck and sponging wet kisses along your skin.
his hand dips down to your inner thigh, two calloused fingers brushing against you, unbearably close to your most sensitive spot. "let me teach you a fucking lesson," he grumbles. "lift up."
he taps your hips, fingers slipping into the waistband of your shorts. instinctively, you push up off the counter and allow him to slide your clothes off. discarding them to the side, hamzah studies your figure all spread out for him on the surface of his counter.
"please," you softly ask for nothing in particular.
he cocks his head, eyes dark with desire.
grabbing your ankle, he hooks it over his shoulder. losing the strength to sit up straight, you prop yourself up on your elbows. hissing as the cold surface meets your lower back, hamzah lets out a devilish chuckle when you squeeze your eyes shut.
"what's the problem, hm? don't wanna stare at me now?”
despite the fact that he’s blatantly teasing you, this is the most turned on you’ve ever been. blush crosses your cheeks as his voice echoes in your mind. his blunt nails slightly dig into your skin, fingers gripping your thigh.
he reaches out, cupping your cheek and cascading his thumb against your skin. “come on, ma. i want you to watch when you take what i wanna give you.” he growls, traveling his hand downwards to your open legs.
he pauses, waiting for you to look. he wants you to see what you do to him. the way you make him progressively more vexed each time you come to visit.
he just wants you to pay attention.
not even a second after you peel your eyelids open, his fingers slip down your pussy, feeling how wet you've gotten already.
“fuck, sweetheart.” he groans, finding your clit and pressing the pad of his thumb against it, an involuntary whimper leaving your throat. he rubs small circles, his jaw hanging open in awe. “could’ve just told me you wanted this. could’ve saved us all the trouble, yeah?”
you surrender to him completely, flattening yourself against the unforgiving marble surface. goosebumps erupting over your skin, you grip onto the edge of the countertop for any sense of control over your body.
he parts you, whispering your name like a prayer. he slides one, then two, fingers inside. curling them, he immediately hits the perfect spot.
in a matter of seconds, you're a clenching, trembling, whimpering mess.
the situation only becomes more impassioned when he slides his glasses off, leaning down to wedge his head between your thighs. his warm tongue licks a stripe along your aching, dripping folds.
“mmh, hamzah!” you gasp, eyes wide as you watch him taste you, fingers still fucking you relentlessly.
“is this what you needed?” his voice vibrates into your core, forcing a shuddering sigh from your lips. “doing all this for you..” he kisses the inside of your thigh, his lips plump and wet. “you better be good for me.”
“yes, yes!” your chest is heaving, your voice breathless. he's stimulating everything so perfectly, leaving you feeling as if you're ascending into heaven.
"say it," he growls against you, "tell me how fucking perfect you're gonna be. tell me you're learning your lesson."
as your eyes begin to grow watery, you accept your fate of submitting to his words, his hands, his mouth.
"i promise, hamzah," you cry, burying your hands in his hair as he nestles his head somehow even closer to your pussy, his nose pressing against your clit. "i'll listen, i'll concentrate, i'll - fuck!"
his fingers flex inside you, your walls hugging them tightly. the arousal is growing too intense, and you feel the famillar knot forming in your belly as hamzah completely devours you.
"taking it so well," he rasps, sliding his fingers out of you, making you wince at the loss of sensation. he kisses your lower stomach, extending his arm outwards and placing his glistening fingers upon your lips. "taste it. this is what i do to you, hm?"
meeting his eyes, you take his fingers into your mouth, sucking him clean and tasting your own juices. releasing them with a pop, he smiles sinfully.
you're speechless, he's completely infiltrated your mind.
he grips your thighs, hooking your other leg over his shoulder and tugging you toward the very edge of the counter. burying his head down once more, he dives back in with even more intensity. licking, sucking, taking all of you for himself. he's greedy.
he moans as you pull on his hair, your legs squeezing around his head. he notices your wails growing louder, bouncing off the walls. "let it out, c'mon, you dirty fuckin' girl."
tipping you over the edge, your back arches up off the counter as you lose all restraint, your orgasm hitting you hard and fast.
if his mouth wasn't so occupied, hamzah would've given you more praise, more credit for how insane you're making him.
watching you become a complete mess at his mercy, he cleans you up with his tongue. he loves seeing you like this, jaw open, eyes glossy, forehead damp with sweat. he did this for your pleasure just as much as he did it for his. he probably would've emptied himself in his pants if he didn't have so much control.
his self-awareness, the restraint he forced upon himself, that is the only reason it took him so long to actually do this.
"holy.." you whisper, still trying to overcome the intense shock of your climax.
"hm?" he hums softly, wiping his chin. "you're alright?"
he holds your waist firmly, lifting your upper body off the counter to sit you up straight. you're dizzy with pleasure, barely being able to process what just happened.
"how.. jesus," you mumble, trying to regain composure.
he laughs at your bewilderment, kissing your jaw and rubbing your thighs comfortingly.
"still think i'm a good tutor?"
---
p.s : first of many requests ! thank you for sending them :)
220 notes · View notes
quokkie · 4 months ago
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i NEEED hamzah x reader to get into a heated argument and then end up having STEAMY makeup sex ...
makeup, makeout?
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cw: smut, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, small argument
not proofread
hi lovelies! i’m back! erm sorry ab this one it’s kinda bad and rushed😔
mdni!
htf
its friday night and you and hamzah had been looking forward to a quiet evening at home. but, as fate would have it, your guy friend, invited you out for a drink. you knew Hamzah wasn't particularly fond of said guy friend. in hamzahs eyes, he was a bit too flirty with you, but you assured your boyfriend that it was totally platonic and that you'd only be out for an hour or so. hamzah agrees reluctantly while expecting you to actually be home in an hour.
you freshen up before meeting your friend at a bar. a couple of drinks turn into a more, and before you know it, you're laughing and joking with him and you completely lose track of time. your buzzed brain suddenly remembers hamzah when you check your phone and see several missed calls and texts from him.
oops!
you quickly reply, assuring him you're on your way home. As you walk through the door, you're greeted by a very unhappy-looking hamzah. "where the hell have you been?" he demands. "I told you I'd only be an hour or so," you reply, a little defensively. "it’s been three hours!" he exclaims. "I was worried sick. And with that friend, of all people..." his voice trails off, but the anger in his eyes is clear. "he’s just a friend," you insist. "I told you, nothing is going on between us."
hamzahs eyes softens a little, seeing the sincerity in your eyes. but his frustration is still evident. he takes a step towards you, his tall frame towering over your figure. "i know, baby, i’m sorry. it’s just that... I can't help but feel a little jealous. he has eyes for you, and it drives me crazy." he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly against his body. "i’m sorry I worried you," you murmur, snuggling into his chest. "i love you, and only you."
hamzah chuckles softly "i know, baby. It's just that i can't stand the thought of anyone else having you. you’re mine" His hands begin to roam over your body, pulling you tightly against his growing erection. you moan softly, grinding yourself against him.
"oh, you like that, don’t you?" he murmurs, his eyes darkening with desire. "you like knowing that i wanna mark you as mine?" without waiting for an answer, his lips crash down on yours, kissing you deeply and passionately.
his hands slide up your thighs, lifting your skirt as he goes. his touch sends shivers through your body, and you moan into his mouth, wanting more. hamzahs fingers find your clit, he groans at how wet you already are for him. "such a good girl," he teases, circling your clit with his finger. "getting all turned on when I get jealous."
"it’s not my fault," you pant, rocking your hips against his hand. hamzah chuckles, a deep sexy sound that sends a thrill through your core. he picks you up, sitting you on the edge of the kitchen counter. he pushes your thighs apart, feasting his eyes on your glistening pussy. leaning forward, he laps at your swollen folds with his tongue, sucking your clit into his mouth and teasing it with the tip of his tongue.
you cry out, your hands tangling in his curly hair, holding him to you as his beard tickles your sensitive flesh. "oh God, hamzah...right there," you moan, bucking your hips as he sucks and licks at your dripping core. he looks up at you, his brown eyes smoldering with desire, and sticks two fingers into his mouth, getting them nice and wet before pushing them deep inside you. Your walls clench around his digits as he curls them upward.
"fuck...hamzah..." you cry, your body trembling on the edge of release. "that’s it, baby, cum for me," he urges, his tongue working your clit while his fingers pump in and out. it’s too much stimulation, crying out his name. he laps at your juices, growling with satisfaction as he devours your essence. but he's not done with you yet.
standing in front of you, he quickly undoes his pants, letting them fall to the floor. His hard cock springs free, and you can't resist reaching out to stroke its length. "God, i need to feel you inside me now," you whisper, stroking his length.
he groans, taking his dick from your hand and guiding it to your entrance. with one smooth thrust, he sinks balls-deep into your sopping wet core. you both groan at the sensations, feeling yourself stretch to accommodate his girth. holding still for a moment, he lets you adjust to his size before beginning to move.
Slowly, he draws out, feeling your tight walls massage his sensitive length, before slamming back into you, hitting that sweet spot deep within. "Oh fuck!" you cry out, your nails digging into his shoulders as he begins to move in earnest, setting a fast, hard pace. The sound of his hips slamming into your ass fills the room, mingling with your cries of pleasure.
hamzah bends his head down to suck on your sensitive nipples, swirling his tongue around the hardened peaks as his cock pistons in and out of your tight sheath. "you feel so damn good, baby," he grunts, his breath hot against your ear. "made just for me."
"yes...right there..." you moan, meeting his thrusts with your own, riding him like a wild thing. your orgasm builds again, that delicious coiling sensation deep in your belly. he reaches between your bodies, rubbing your clit in circles as he slams into you. "cum with me, baby," he growls, feeling his own release building.
your body tenses before you explode around him, your walls clenching and pulsing like a vise around his hard cock. "that’s it, take my cum, baby," he groans, his balls tightening as he empties himself deep inside you. his thrusts slow, his body collapsing onto yours as he savors the aftershocks of your shared pleasure.
kissing your forehead, he whispers, "i’m sorry I got jealous, baby. but, making up like this is so much fun." you giggle, snuggling into his strong embrace. "anytime you want to make up like that, i’m down."
250 notes · View notes
bearambles · 1 month ago
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good girl, officer (hamzah)
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words: 1.2k
warnings: piv, dom!hamzah, sub!reader, handcuffs, spit, creampie, bad writing >_<
note: the drought is over. this actually sucks so bad and i wrote it in class but erm!! here!! cop!hamzah got me out of my writing slump soooo i’ll hopefully get to requests soon. also im sorry guys its not copying over the pretty girl fic or i would have reuploaded it by now - i wont stop trying though!!
enjoy!!
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cold metal presses into your skin as hamzah secures your hands behind your back. his chest inches behind you, the heat of his breath against your neck. you shiver, a small whimper escaping your lips as the handcuffs click in place and he releases your wrists from his grip.
“stay like that, yeah?” he says, his hands moving to your hips, pushing you back against him.
he’s been needy all day. the video he filmed with martin took so long and he’d been texting you non-stop while you were at work.
i can’t wait to see you baby. can’t wait to use these on you.
<1 image>
you’ve never really considered hamzah to be super dominant, and it isn’t always the case. days like these though, when he pent up and desperate and eager, he takes control. uses you like it’s what you’re made for. you fucking love it.
“i asked you a question baby.”
his grip tightens on your hips, his cock hard against your clothed ass. you’re wearing a flimsy t-shirt, a lace bra, and your shortest sleep shorts. as soon as he started with his horny texts, you changed from regular clothes to these. you knew they wouldn’t be on long.
“i will.” you whisper, your face towards the wall.
he grips your chin and makes you look at him, his thumb caressing your skin softly while his grip remains firm.
“good. you look so pretty, ma.”
he kisses you then, soft and sweet, before pulling away to undo his belt. you watch as his pants meet the ground and his cock springs from his boxers. he’s so fucking thick.
after a moment though, he looks up to see you staring, and presses your neck back against the wall. your face smushed against the tile, you whimper. he reaches a hand up past your shirt and bra and slowly kneads a nipple in between his finger and his thumb.
“h-hamzah-“
“i said to stay. that means don’t move. you understand that now?”
you nod, and he moves the hand on your tit down to his length. a few strokes in, he has an idea, and moves to shove two fingers in your mouth. you gag slightly at the intrusion, but quickly realize what he wants. your tongue swirls around his fingers, and he watches.
he pushes them a little further back, until you cough and he takes them out. you pant just barely, a string of drool connecting your mouth to his fingertips. covered in spit, he moves his hand down to his cock and pumps it a few times before lining himself up with your hole.
your shorts are still on and he tugs them down with one hand. you whine and your hands go to reach for the wall, but they’re still together. he notices and reaches his free hand up to grab your wrists and bring them back down behind the small of your back.
“stop being a fucking brat.” he grins in your ear before moving his hand back down to your panties and pulling them aside. without warning, he pushes into you.
“fuck! hamzah-“
“shhhhh i know ma.”
both hands gripping your hips, he slams into you. his cock is practically ripping you in half, but it hurts so good. you whine and his mouth is next to your ear, whispering comforts that contrast his rough movements.
“so good baby. so good.” he’s just word vomiting, you know, but his words add to the growing knot in your stomach. “you’re so fucking perfect.”
even when he tries to be tough and dominant, he can’t help but praise his baby. you look so pretty, face smushed against the wall, your hair messy and makeup starting to run as your eyes water from pleasure. your pussy so fucking warm he thinks he’s gonna die.
the way you take him so well, your body fitting his like it’s what you were made to do. it felt like that in this moment. nothing could feel better than the thick of his cock hitting you deep. his hips smack against your ass as he fucks you.
“please hamzah, please.” your hands start to wriggle in their restraint, desperate to play with your clit. from the moment he put the cuffs on, you were soaked. it was starting to hurt to keep ignoring it.
“what do you need? you want me to slow down?” he asks, the second sentence coming with a halter in his thrusts and his tone a little lighter.
you shake your head and start to move your hips back against him, trying to bring back the pace he’d set.
“noooo…” you whine, and he pulls away completely.
he laughs, just taking in the image of you pressed against a wall, hands cuffed behind your back, crying for more dick.
“jesus christ. you’re that desperate huh?”
he takes the break in movement to reach down and spread your legs with his hands. he watches your core throb, pulsing around nothing, dripping slick. he laughs again, before taking two fingers and shoving them deep.
“oh my god-“ you whimper, jolting in surprise.
he keeps finger fucking you like this for a while, just watching your cunt take his fingers in like they belong there. gripping them both and dripping when you take them out.
when his thumb grazes your clit, you moan. he raises an eyebrow.
“that’s what you wanted, huh?”
you nod furiously.
“use your words.”
“yes. yes, please hamzah.”
“good girl.”
his thumb stays pressed against your clit while his fingers retract, replaced by his cock. the combination is almost too much. he’s back to the tough pace he started with, this time his fingers pawing at your clit.
“i’m so close, fuck, i’m sorry-“ he whines
“s’okay, i am too, just cum, just cum hamzah i love you i love you, fuck-“
he does.
he doesn’t pull out either, knowing you’re on birth control (and also extremely pussy drunk). In fact, he presses the deepest into you when he cums, his seed so deep inside of you that when he pulls out a minute later, it takes a moment for anything to even appear.
your orgasm crashes over you in waves and you can feel your cunt pulsing around him. he feels so good, you could cry.
he watches as his cum leaks from your cunt and his hand flies to his hair. he���s panting.
“jesus. oh my god. that was like- i’ve never cum so hard in my life.”
you giggle. in all fairness, you hadn’t fucked in a week. you both needed it bad.
“you liked being in control, huh?”
he shrugs.
“i hope i wasn’t too much. you can always say stop, you don’t have to-“
“hamzah-“
“no i mean it. like, i know we have the safe word and stuff but even if you just say stop i will and i don’t want you to-“
“hamzah, i know-“
“i know you know but i was just worried i was being too mean or something because i want to turn you on but i also-“
“hamzah can you please uncuff me!”
he stares and you and presses his eyes shut for a moment, laughing softly.
“i’m sorry. yeah. i’m an idiot.”
-
i hope you guys enjoyed !
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hunnysahara · 1 month ago
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˗ˏˋ 𝒲𝒽𝓎’𝒹 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒪𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒞𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑀𝑒 𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓃 𝒴𝑜𝓊’𝓇𝑒 𝐻𝒾𝑔𝒽? ˎˊ˗
Hamzah x fem!reader
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It's harder and harder to get you to listen, more I get through the gears. Incapable of making alright decisions and having bad ideas.
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Premise: Your ex friends with benefits calls you in the middle of the night and you know before you answer why he’s ringing you.
CW: cannabis usage / suggestive / crude + sexual language
WC: 2.6k
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The soft glow of your phone screen fractures the darkness like a sliver of unwelcome light, casting long shadows across the room. It's the dead of night when the world holds its breath in a hush, yet here you are, wide-eyed, heart knocking gently against your ribs. You had been unpleasantly woken from your sleep by the sound of your phone vibrating itself off your bedside table.
Hamzah's name lingers on your screen. The messages spill one after another, frantic and garbled, like a stream you can't dam—misspelled words, scattered thoughts like he had thrown scrabble tiles together to form texts.
You aren't even able to fully read one message before it's replaced with another. You throw your phone down beside you on your bed, running your hands down your face and grumbling. It had been months since you heard from Hamzah.
The two of you had a very casual friend-with-benefits relationship though you took the initiative to end it when there was a landslide shift and the unceremonious hookups turned into mumbled confessions against your neck. It was too intimate, it breached the contract the two of you initially agreed on.
Though here he was, blowing up your phone like he would die without another word from you.
The phone buzzes again, his caller ID taking over the screen of your phone. You groan, your thumb hovering over the screen, debating whether to answer just to tell him to stop, to leave you alone. Maybe then, maybe if you hear the slur in his voice, the edge of something broken and far away, he'll finally understand that you're not his to call anymore.
The phone lights up again, and this time, you answer.
"Hamzah, stop."
"I knew you'd pick up," His words are thick like velvet, his voice groggy and coarse.
"Why are you calling me?" You ask, voice sharp like a bullet through skin.
"I just wanna hear your voice," On the other end, you can practically hear the smile in his voice. The way the words drowsily fall from his lips brings you to one conclusion.
"You're high?"
"Perchance," He takes a sharp inhale. After a moment of virtual silence, he giggles and coughs eventually settling down "Fine, you caught me. I'm very high."
"What do you want?"
"Why are you being so mean? I just wanted to say hi," There's a hint of playfulness in his voice and you can imagine him sprawled out in bed, hair a mess and glassy eyes half drawn.
Your head throbs as he jumps from one half-finished thought to another, rambling through memories like they're fresh scabs he needs to pick at, unravelling every thread you've tried so hard to tie up neatly. "Maybe I'm being mean because you called me at three AM."
"Yeah, that's kinda annoying," He laughs to himself. His voice filters through the phone, slick with an edge of playfulness that sends a ripple of irritation through you. "It's been too long since I've seen you," Hamzah says, drawing out the word in a lazy, teasing way that always used to make you laugh. But tonight, it feels grating like sand paper against your skull.
"Not long enough." You press the phone tighter to your ear, walking barefoot across the cold floor to the kitchen. The hardwood creaks under your steps, and the cool air feels sharp against your skin.
"Oh, how you hurt me," He adds a tinge of melodrama to his sarcasm.
"Hamzah," you sigh, but he barely gives you a second to speak.
"Did I wake you up?" He pauses to take a breath and you can hear the blunt crackling, and paper shuffling in the background.
"Yeah, you did."
"My bad, my bad-" He coughs again "What are you wearing? Is it that Grateful Dead shirt that hangs off your shoulder?"
You look down at your pyjamas, you were in fact wearing the Grateful Dead that hung off your shoulder and draped past your hips. "No." You lie through your teeth.
"Damn," He mutters before his brain hooks on another ramble "Remember that time—God, you were wearing that little white sundress, you remember?—and we went to that park with the swings? You kept pretending you were too good to be on a swing, but you ended up laughing like a kid when I pushed you too high."
You roll your eyes, frustration simmering beneath the surface. His tone is light, and flirtatious, like he's trying to conjure up a nostalgia that never quite sat right with you. The kitchen light flickers to life as you reach for a glass, the soft hum of the fridge barely audible over his rambling.
"Hamzah," you cut in, more firmly this time, holding the phone between your ear and shoulder as you twist the tap open. The sound of water hitting the glass is oddly soothing, something real and grounded amidst the chaos of his voice. "You're not making any sense."
"No, I think I'm making sense. You just don't wanna admit it." There's a slurred chuckle on the other end. "Come on, don't be like that. I know you're smiling right now. You miss this."
You can practically hear the smirk in his voice, and it makes your skin crawl. You take a sip of water, trying to quench the heat building in your chest. He always does this—twisting every conversation into something flirtatious, something playful.
"I'm not smiling, I’m frowning if anything," you reply flatly, setting the glass down with a little more force than necessary. "And you really need to stop calling me in the middle of the night. This isn't funny."
"But it's not the same during the day," he says with a laugh that feels too close, too familiar. "Night's that thing in that one song- made for saying things you can't say another day," He paraphrases poorly. His voice lowers, taking on that soft, honeyed tone he used to use when he wanted to get his way. 
Your jaw tightens as you lean against the counter, fingers tapping impatiently against the cold surface. He's pushing, and it's infuriating how easily he slips back into this—this game of his, like he can flirt his way out of the chaos he's caused.
"Hamzah, I don't have time for this. You're high. Again."
"And you're still talking to me, aren't you?" he teases, his voice laced with a kind of smug satisfaction. "You didn't have to answer. Y'know there's this magical button on your phone that makes it so I can't message you? I think that you want to talk to me."
The audacity in his tone sends a spark of anger through you, your fingers curling around the edge of the counter. He always knows how to toe the line, to keep you teetering between frustration and the pull of something that's sweet on your tongue but now feels like quicksand.
You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to stay calm. "Hamzah, I'm not doing this. You need to hang up and sleep this off."
There's a pause, and for a second, you think he's going to listen. But then he chuckles softly, voice dripping with mischief.
"You're so hot when you're mad at me."
You nearly groan aloud, the exhaustion catching up with you in waves. This is pointless. You've been here before, hearing the same lines, feeling the same tired tug of emotions you've long since buried. But there's a part of you—a small, quiet part—that almost misses this, misses the ease with which he used to reel you in. And that's what makes it worse.
"Hamzah," you start, your voice sharper now, "go to sleep. Seriously."
"What if I told you that I really missed you?" He adds like it sweetens the deal. 
"I would tell you that I don't care."
"When did you turn so cold on me?" 
You pause, the phone still pressed against your ear. "Hamzah," you mutter, exasperation thick in your voice. The glass of water in your hand feels heavy, like a tether pulling you back into his orbit, even as you stand there in the dim kitchen, staring out at the quiet darkness outside the window.
"Just hear me out," he says, voice too smooth for someone who's supposed to be slurring. "I think me and you should do something together."
You don't answer, your hand moving on autopilot as you rinse the glass and set it down in the sink. There was always a certain ease between you and Hamzah, but that was before it got complicated, before the lines blurred. You clench your jaw, stepping away from the kitchen and into the hall, eyes scanning the house for some chore to distract you, to keep your mind from wandering back to those nights.
"Come on," he continues, undeterred. "I know you heard me."
You sigh, frustration buzzing beneath your skin, but your feet carry you to the living room where a few stray magazines and an old blanket still sit crumpled on the couch. Might as well tidy up while he babbles. Maybe if you let him talk himself out, he'll fall asleep or something. You grab the blanket, folding it with quick, jerky movements as he keeps talking.
"Can I come over?" He asks abruptly.
"No?" You furrow your eyebrows "What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Damn, I really thought that would work."
As you sit down at the kitchen table, leaning your head into your hand, you notice the faint hum of traffic coming through the phone—tires on wet pavement, the distant growl of an engine passing by. Your brow furrows and a flicker of concern sparks through your irritation.
"Where are you, Hamzah?" you ask, voice sharper than you intended. It's late, and the sound of traffic at this hour doesn't fit into the picture of him sprawled out in bed, half-asleep and rambling, like you'd assumed.
"Why do you want to know?"
"So you don't show up at my house."
He chuckles to himself "Why on earth would I do that?"
"Maybe because you're obsessed with me?"
"I'm not- no, yeah. I am obsessed with you." There it was, the confidence that he so lacked when he was sober. With the help of cannabis, his tongue was as loose as his morals.
You press your lips together, gaze flicking toward the window, though the night outside your house is still and quiet, completely unlike the soundscape on the other end of the line. You disregard his admission "So, where are you?"
"I'm... walking. Clearing my head or whatever."
Your chest tightens, frustration mixing with a flicker of something you wish wasn't there—worry. "Walking where?" you press, though part of you already knows he's not going to give you a straight answer.
"Just around. Nowhere dangerous, alright? You don't have to freak out." He tries to sound nonchalant, but there's an edge to his voice that betrays him. 
"Hamzah, you shouldn't be out right now. It's late, and you're—" You pause, choosing your words carefully. "You're not in the best headspace to be wandering around." You're caught between the urge to scream at him or call Martin to pick him up and haul him home.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," he cuts in, that cocky smile returning to his voice. "I'm always fine, babe. You worry too much."
You want to hang up, to cut the thread between you and the mess that is Hamzah, but the thought of him alone, on some random street at this hour, makes it hard to press the button. "Go home," you say softly, barely above a whisper.
"Stay on the phone with me a little longer, alright? I'm almost home anyway," Hamzah pleads, voice taking on that boyish, playful tone you've heard too many times.
You rub your temples, eyes drifting toward the clock on the wall. It's well into the night, and here you are, listening to him stumble through whatever story he's trying to spin. "You always say that," you mutter. "But somehow, you're always ten minutes from home."
"Hey, it's not my fault time slows down when I'm talking to you," he says with a sly grin you can practically hear. "Like, relativity or something. I saw that in the Spider-Verse movie."
You roll your eyes, walking back toward the kitchen to grab another glass of water, your mouth feeling particularly dry. "You would know."
"Didn't we see that together when it came out?" He asks to no answer. "We should watch it again."
"I don't think so," You lean against the counter, cradling your glass as his words wash over you.
"I want to see you, I like the way you laugh," He humbles "That's why I was such a goof around you. I didn't mind embarrassing myself because it made you smile and god- that smile..."
 "I don't really care what you want."
Hamzah lets out a low whistle "And yet, here you are," he shoots back quickly. "Still on the phone. Ah- I got you there."
You lean back against the counter, the weight of his words sinking in. He's right, of course. You're still here, still wrapped up in this bizarre late-night conversation, still listening as he spirals through his endless stream of nonsense. There's an odd comfort in the banter, as much as you hate yourself for it, there's safety in the familiarity.
"Yeah, yeah," you say finally, shaking your head. "You know how to run your mouth. That's about the only thing you're good at."
"Hey, don't forget I'm a man of many talents," Hamzah quips, the humour softening just a little. "And one of them is keeping you on the line way longer than you should be."
"Trust me, I'm very aware," you mutter, though there's a strange warmth behind your words now.
"Yeah, but you still picked up," he says, almost gently this time, his voice losing some of that playful edge. "That's gotta mean something, right?"
"I wouldn't bet on it."
"Do you miss me? Like at all?" He asks, the words falling from his lips with ease "You can be honest." 
You roll your eyes, though there's a slight warmth blooming in your chest despite your irritation. "Please, Hamzah," you deadpan, pacing slowly across the kitchen. "Do you ever stop?"
A knock sounds from your front door, sharp and unexpected. You freeze, turning toward the noise, the sound cutting through the warmth of your late-night banter like a cold breeze. Your heart skips a beat, the suddenness of the interruption making your stomach twist with an uneasy kind of tension. "Hang on," you mutter into the phone, already moving toward the door. "Someone's at my-"
You trail off, eyes narrowing as another knock echoes through the quiet house. Your pulse quickens, a strange feeling creeping up the back of your neck as you grip the phone a little tighter.
As you open the door, the cold air hits you first, followed by the sight of someone standing on your doorstep. Your breath catches for a moment when you see him. There, leaning casually against the doorframe with that signature lazy grin, is Hamzah.
"What the fuck," You draw out. 
"C'mon, don't be like that," Hamzah says, giving you a crooked grin. His phone is still pressed to his ear—well, it is until he lowers it slowly, that playful glint in his eyes growing even more mischievous as he hangs up, ending the call without a word. “So- are you gonna let me in?”
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johnnieguilbertsgirlfriend · 6 months ago
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hamzah missing you on vacation
talk to me - hamzahthefantastic x reader
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contains: fluff, smut, reader is female, you read the rest and find out
word count: no clue rn but its short
story below the cut
hamzah: hi baby sorry i haven’t been texting n stuff i’ve been busy with martin and mandy yk but i love you sm and i miss you
you: i understand completely :) have fun and dw about me ily too
hamzah: i just got back to my room, u wanna call?
you: ofcc
—————————————
hamzah had gone on vacation to cura��ao to relax and film videos for youtube and the podcast. he had brought the trip up to you, asking if you wanted to go. unfortunately, you had work and couldn’t take time off because this was one of their busiest months. you were both obviously disappointed, but he understood and you wanted him to go without you and have fun filming. (#securerelationships) when he got off the plane, that was the moment you realised that it was going to be difficult with extra work and no boyfriend, but you were managing so far. however, today you just got home and boy were you exhausted.
your phone went off as soon as you had sent him the last text. you wait 10 seconds before answering it. “hellooo?” you hear hamzah say. “heyy” you reply, matching his energy. “whats up?” “nothingg, i just missed you” this man knows just what to say. “wait facetime me” he says, while the button pops up on the screen. you answer and see someone else with him. “well hello martin” “y/n! how are you?” “i’m good, how has the trip been for you and mandy?” “so good, she loves it. but this guy here is constantly yapping about how much you would love it too.” “aghh, i know, it looks like a lot of fun, much better than what i’m doing haha.” “alright well i’m gonna go back to my room, cya guys.”
martin leaves hamzah’s hotel room to go back to his own. he turns his camera off, but you didn’t think much of it at the time. you can hear fumbling on his end of the phone. “so, tell me about your day.” you think hard, not even remembering what you did, but start giving him a little summary. you hear a zipper while you talk, but continue as he was probably just changing. you hear him release a groan, “hamzah? are you okay?” “yeah i- just wish you were here right now. hearing your voice isn’t enough.” you finally caught on.
“are you… jerking off right now?” his breath hitches a little. “i’m sorry- i just can’t get you out of my head baby. imagining you in a bikini just makes it worse.” he breathes out. your cheeks grow redder, thankful he wasn’t there to see it. the truth is that you needed him badly too. “well, what would you do if i was there?” you ask him in a more lustful tone. he stops palming himself through his boxers, and removes them instead. “i would pull the string from your- top” he starts slowly stroking his dick. you start taking off your oversized shirt, not bothering to wear a bra because you were home alone. “and then, fuck, i would kiss you everywhere and touch your boobs.” you start massaging your breasts, moaning a little. “mhm, and then what?”
he whimpers, barely audible on the phone. “i wish my hand was yours right now baby. i would probably- m’ take off your bikini and fuck you so good.” he groans out while you take off your panties. you insert a finger into your pussy, ”uh shit, hamzah” you moan out, wanting to help him reach his high. his breathing gets heavier, and all you can think about is if he was the one fingering you right now. “you make me so fucking hard babe-“ you push in another finger, rubbing your clit slightly faster. “keep going hamzah” you praise him, making him involuntarily buck his hips into his hand. “i bet your pussy would taste so good right now.” he says, and you stretch yourself more.
“i can’t hold it,” “just let go y/n” that last sentence made you moan loudly and release your orgasm, panting to try to catch your breath. he groans out, cumming on himself, relieved. “i love you so much.” “i love you too” “you’re definitely coming on the next trip no matter what.” you start getting stuff ready to clean yourself up. “i will, and i think im gonna take a shower now baby.”
“mmm, part 2?”
—————————————
thank you for the request im so tired and drained rn but hopefully this will hold you guys off for the next one. ;)
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buuniebaby · 5 months ago
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hamzah x reader sexting headcannons ໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১₊˚⊹♡
includes: implied virgin hamzah, obvi nsfw, mentions of nudes n porn, female reader
i was high while i wrote this so sorry if it sucks el oh el
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- this man goes ALL OUT when it comes to sexting. it’s surprising knowing that you’re the first girl he’s been with after seeing the way he talks.
- always praising you. that boy thinks you’ve got the prettiest face in the world, even during sex. when he’s horny, he doesn’t ask for nudes, (although he definitely wouldn’t turn them down 🤭) he asks for pictures of your face because you’re just that beautiful to him.
- definitely nervous at first, but once you’re into it, so is he.
- will get detailed once he’s comfortable. once you’ve got him riled up, if u ask him what he wants to do to u, he’ll give u whole PARAGRAPHS of the fantasies he has about you.
- although hamzah years ago promised himself in his head he would never send nudes, you tempted him a little too much.
- he sends nut vids. with audio. and warns u first ! 😊
- when you guys aren’t together and he misses you, he knows exactly how to make himself feel better. you’ll be out hanging out with your friends when suddenly you’ve got a text from him reading something along the lines of “dont open in front of anyone lol.”
- after you sneak off to the bathroom, you open the text up to a minute long video of him, laying in bed, sweatpants and boxers just slightly pulled down. he lazily strokes himself, but gets more intense the longer the video goes on. as he inches closer to finishing, he softly mutters your name as well as faint swears as he desperately fucks into his hand and cums.
- before dating you, he had a bad habit of watching a lot of porn.. but he doesn’t need that anymore. you’re his own personal pornstar.
- on the topic of porn, one of his biggest fantasies is making a tape between you two… but that could be its own set of hcs 🫣
- he loves when you really try to explore the things he’s into. since he didn’t have much experience before you, there are a lot of things he’s eager to try that he’s seen online or in porn. obviously he would never participate in anything against your boundaries, but he’s definitely here for it if you’re interested in his kinks.
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i am so down bad for this man it’s not even funny. i need him!!! 😊 so bad!!!! 😊 anyways erm ill write like anything for him as long as its x fem reader thanku baiii
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freak4hamzah · 5 months ago
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⋆.ೃ࿔*:・Safe Travels, pt. 1
-one-shot
bf!hamzah x fem reader
scene: You have been visiting your home country alone for a month, and you´re meeting Hamzah at the Canadian airport to catch the next flight to Curaçao!
a/n: First time doing a one-shot arhh, its kinda messy but bear with me pleasee + to all my native Canadian readers yall gotta pretend to have a different home country or smt my bad
tw: one sexual joke,,, not nsfw but pls be 18+
Part 2 coming soon
NOT PROOFREAD
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ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ after landing..
I exited the plane after an 8-hour flight back to Canada after a month of visiting family at home. I’m meeting my boyfriend and my friends at the airport, and we are leaving straight to a weekend trip to Curaçao. That's an 8-hour flight from home PLUS a 10-hour flight from Canada in less than 24 hours.
I send a message to Hamzah to inform him that I landed safely while leaving the plane, and as soon as I exit the jetway I hear Hamzah calling my name and I look up to find him smiling at me. I grin and carefully jog up to him trying not to spill the opened can of diet coke in my hand. He was wearing a red beanie, black sweatpants, and one of the few hoodies of his that I hadn’t yet stolen from him with his headphones placed around his neck. He brings me into a hug and I stay in his embrace for a sweet while until he kisses my head.
“Finally.. you look so pretty” he said while flashing a genuine smile and looking down at my outfit.
“So do you baby, where are the others?” i ask and he takes both my hands,
“I told them to watch our luggage in the lounge so I could get some alone time with you before the flight” he answered while looking into my eyes, not realizing himself how cute that sounds. He kisses me and motions for me to let him carry my bag, which I gladly do.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving.” He holds my hand and we walk to the gate to grab a quick bite. We sit down using this opportunity to catch up, even tho we have spoken over the phone every day for the past month.
We stroll around the tax-free for a while until ultimately deciding to meet the others in the lounge and finally board the plane.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷boarding the plane..
I boarded the plane for the second time that day with Hamzah following right behind me with all our luggage. He places his backpack in the overboard while I get seated in the window seat.
“Do you want me to place your bag too, babe?” he offers while looking at me for an answer
“No, it’s fine ill have it under the seat in front of me so it’s easily accessible” I reply giving him a tired smile. He takes my bag and gets seated beside me and places it under the seat in front of him.
“Your legs are longer than mine, I’ll have it in front of mine so it wont get uncomfortable for you” I say reaching for the bag until his hand stops me.
“Let me give you the princess treatment you deserve y/nnn, I haven’t been able to for so longgg” he begs with a frown on his face. I flash him a defeated face as I let go of my bag, too tired to quarrel with him.
The plane takes off and lean my head on Hamzah's shoulder, feeling myself doze off...
175 notes · View notes
ethelcained · 6 months ago
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rosemary (matt sturniolo) ⛧°。🦇
they’re both twitch streamers.. planning on writing an actual fic soon so requests are deeply appreciated!! thank you so much for all of the love in my last post <333 it means the world ⭐️⭐️ let me know if you’d like me to turn this into a series (;
777.starlem
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liked by mothercain and 1,987,456 others
777.starlem 🕯️🦇⋰ ⋱✮ streaming @ 6 pst!!
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aerichandesu star tat pic... you’re a fucking slut
777.starlem just say you want me…
salemywife … i want you 🤗
starboxed will aeri and hamzah stream with you?
hamzahthefantastic U find as he’ll i won’t u
777.starlem i’m gonna hurt you.
slushysalem RUN HAMZAH RUN
aerisgigi martin won’t let you
radvxz wanna kiss you 💋
777.starlem come here
pinkpantheress that fortnite buzzcut is no joke!!
nebruhska245 fr bruh
starstarstarzzz got my cut and came out bald
steve.lacy 😵‍💫😵‍💫
mayawinky gf
777.starlem 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩!!!
dvasdiva pls tell me you’re playing overwatch
sturniolo33luvr please don’t wish that upon us
radioheadenjoyer nah she better play fortnite
ariana_greenblatt the laptop??
777.starlem it’s old dumbass
kdagrande11 favourite sisters 🙏🙏
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matthew.sturniolo
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liked by tarayummy and 834,986 others
matthew.sturniolo Streaming now 🍎🩹
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mattpugluvr My girl boner is through the roof
christophersturniolo Bing bang pow
fortniterizzlette69 what is bro even saying 😭
kda4lifesz literally
destinconrad nah fuck YOUR side
matthew.sturniolo WROOONG ❌❌❌
laufey333 someone tell nick his brother nd bf are fighting
taycroom69 i don’t think he cares tbh🫠
madisonbeer is it even safe to play fortnite
matthew.sturniolo We’re playing fall guys
ellamaebae NOT HIM BEING SCARED OF SALEM
snot Brudda
nicolassturniolo Going to eat you
frankoceanlover93 Me too fr
777.starlem oh..
matthew.sturniolo Oh?
salemariana33 ariana what r u doin here??
mattismymunch what happened to him never being able to step foot in mount olympus 😏🤣
fayewebnerd that was before she found out he was cute
beaszapinklvr 👀👀👀
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777.starlem
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liked by pinkpantheress and 1,806,983 others
777.starlem texted my doctor n i was liek “haiiii :3 how much for 3 prozacs >////<” no reply back )))),:
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radvxz literally so babygirl
777.starlem thank u!!! ^^
christophersturniolo This pic so fucking tuff man
777.starlem on some real shit
sturnisalem777 ??????????
milesmoralestds this is crazy
salemluvrgirl ARE WE GONNA SLIDE PAST HER HANGING OUT WOTH THE TRIPLETS??????
mattisbbgprincess honestly i’m surprised they waited this long
ethelilysmrip she’s too cool for the triplets
salemsfortnitebf @ethelilysmrip are we talking about the same salem orrrrr??? that is the biggest loser
kdalol154 @salemsfortnitebf FR💀💀💀💀
solanamymomma33 i’m really just happy salem and solana are friends idrc ab anything else tbh 🤓
tylerdainventor real !!!! and when salem dates matt and they can both be sister in laws 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩
salemermaid77 nah she’s for the girls
beabadoobeesbzz @salemermaid77 are we gonna ignore the tweet she accidentally posted two months ago orrrrrrr….
sarahsarahsarah @beabadoobeesbzz outta sight outta mind!!
ft.gioo smash
777.starlem 🔄🔄🔄👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩
matthew.sturniolo Cutest scene girl
777.starlem SO YOU THINK IM CUTE 😨😨
444salemwifey FUCK ITS SPREADING
lilghettobitchesdatqueef @matthew.sturniolo SHES MINE‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ you stay away from her
steve.lacy i am björk
solanaroan speak on it twin
mayawinky it’s true
destinconrad he be serenading me with hyperballad
novacane1728 What a intimidating group of losers
wewecroissant3333 real !! this is why i’m not surprised they’re all a group now.. losers just multiply together like mutants
redveil 👾👾
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streamerupdates
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liked by hamzahthefantastic and 896,583 others
streamerupdates Famous twitch streamers @777.starlem & @matthemunch are currently streaming together via twitch with other streamers!
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lesbian4salem INSAAAAAAAANE
deftonesdagoats i love how salem and solana are cussing chris and matt tf out and raging 💀😭
clairebeard23 meanwhile hamzah, maya, nick, david, aeri and gio are streaming escape evil drake tycoon on roblox
deftonesdagoats @clairebeard23 insane group of ppl😭😭
rosemary_ am i the only one feeling like a third wheel
deezfrankinuts nah but fr and it’s like i’m used to solana and chris being all googoogaga but matt and salem??? fml
salemluvraeri y’all think that in the last 6 months since #THAT tweet they’ve been…. maybe perhaps??👀👀👀
aeriteenagedirtbag @salemluvaeri Honestly prob cause like sum fishy going on and it’s not ur pussy
scenebitch222 @aeriteenagedirtbag BRO??????
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matthew.sturniolo
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liked by sabrinacarpenter and 3,906,999 others
matthew.sturniolo One year with my vamp 🦇🩹
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777.starlem the sackboy to my domo 🧛🏻🫀🧛🏻‍♀️
matthew.sturniolo I love you sweetheart ❤️‍🩹
playboicartee999 ?????? SICKENING
777.starlem beat the radiohead no head allegations!!!
ethelcainsalem NO FUCKING WAY BRO JUST SAID THAT
peaches_heart3 never beating the loser allegations tho..
mothercain so is she a freak in nebraska?
777.starlem disappointed that you’re even asking this hayden.. like you KNOW that i am, freakys daughter and all 😒😒
pinkpantheress she really got you like ^_^ :3 >_<
matthew.sturniolo She has me going yahoo :3
semiz4llll 😭😭😭FUCK😭😭😭MY😭😭😭LIFE😭😭😭
vampluvr666 when loser pulls loser
sirjohn1738 gotta love this trope
sunnylevine moon x moon
ft.gioo proud of you gang
aerichandesu she’s still my girl btw..
777.starlem duh we’re already married 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩
mattsbbgpook @matthew.sturniolo FIGHT BACK
nicolassturniolo 🧛🏻🧛🏻‍♀️
christophersturniolo Can’t make fun of u for being the single one anymore 😞
rip.brockhampton the only reason we didn’t think they were dating was bc this mf kept making fun of him for not being cuffed wtf
money_420 @rip.brockhampton Naaaah i always knew mf was way too geeked this year 💀 bro has been all “🫠☺️🥰”
ariana_greenblatt don’t you dare hurt my sister 🤬
matthew.sturniolo 🫡🫡🫡
tylermycreator my greenblatts ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹
solanaroan CONGRATS FUCKERS
brentfaiyassfied sicko🤣🤣
oasisza222 can’t believe that silly fucking tweet is what brought them together 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
kalicoochies3 fr fr
dijondress_ i’m soooo drunk @mayawinky
mayawinky @dijondress_ pass
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tastesousweet · 1 month ago
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roommate!hamzah x reader . . .
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summary: little headcannons i have ab these 2!!! they’re just friends of course (wink)!!
a/n: hiii i’m slowly working on hamzah requests, ty to those who send them in for me <3
ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . tends to do his morning routine without a shirt on (grabbing coffee, feeding the cats, sitting on the balcony while responding to texts he’s put off for far too long)
it’s never bothered you because you’re rarely awake early enough to know of it. yet one morning hamzah is mortified by your hook up from the night before, awake and attempting to crack jokes with him as he pours the remaining orange juice into a soft magenta-stained mug that a girlfriend had gifted you last christmas.
hamzah's eyes give a silent glare at both the audacity (of this random man who's decided to parade around the kitchen that is fifty percent his in nothing but those loose boxer shorts!) and out of disgust (he'd unfortunately heard a lot of last night's... action from his room down the hall and he hates that he now has a face to associate with the trauma).
there's a awkward tension that is clearly not reciprocated by the brash and flamboyant guy leaning against the fridge door with a smirk.
hamzah keeps his arms crossed over his own bare chest, stood next to the coffee machine- and for once he’s actually annoyed by the slow frequency of the coffee's stream and the accommodating, overwhelming smell. but he's starting to think it must be your fling’s presence that's causing everything around him to feel a bit violating.
“ummmm….” he’d delay with a deep exhale, unsure how to end a conversation he never asked to begin
the guy would take a long sip of orange juice, “i’m just wondering like, how long have you two lived together? she didn’t even tell me she lived with anyone so— i mean, it’s not everyday you see a girl hot as that living with some guy!" he pauses, "oh…wait, come on man you had to have hit by now…” he babbles on and hamzah stares blankly, stifling a laugh when it comes to the last assumption.
“man, i’m just tryna’ enjoy my breakfast…” hamzah wishes he’d never left his bedroom so early.
the guy nods his head, “yeah…yeah i get that. i should get back to y/n and stuff. she sleeps kinda heavy, huh?”
hamzah nods absentmindedly, sipping his black coffee and making his way out of the kitchen, “guess so…” he stops and looks back at him with a look of slight disgust, “next time at least put some pants on dude, cmon.”
later that day hamzah tells you about it and you laugh so hard you almost fall off of the soft brown couch. “oh my god!!!!” you laugh through your words, “was your masculinity challenged?! did you feel threatened?? maybe he was trying to eye you up- you were practically naked...” you have a grin that makes hamzah subconsciously grin with you, forcing him to overcompensate due to your implications.
"absolutely none of those things?! what the fuck??? no. he was a fuckin' dog, even asked me if we've..." hamzah stutters a bit while gesturing between the two of you.
your face is shocked first as you both silently gesture between the two of you, occasionally making more grotesque and sexual movements to which you both begin to laugh. "no way! that guy has nothing but mush for brains."
hamzah bites his inner cheek harshly, tightening a grip on the circle pillow in his large arm, "yeah..."
you keep your gaze on your fingers fidgeting with the couch before a smirk inches onto your face and your head slowly turns towards hamzah.
it still surprises him how nervous you can make him with something as simple and intriguing as your eye contact, so he flusters up a bit and sputters a soft laugh, "what?" he reaches for the remote on the coffee table to distract himself.
you hum to yourself and pick up a mini twizzler from the small candy dish in the center of the table before plopping yourself down, resting your head on the pillow sat in hamzah's lap.
hamzah attempts to keep his demeanor intact as you snuggle yourself into comfort (so much so, your tiny spaghetti strap on your loose sleep top falls down your shoulder in beautiful imperfection).
you struggle with attempting to unwrap the red candy before hamzah eventually offers to help, "y'want me to do it?"
"please?" you nod and shift to look directly up at him rather than the tv.
"mhm..." he easily uses his teeth to open it, "and i'm taking a piece for my hard work."
"uh huh, sharing is caring"
not only does hamzah feed himself a peel of the twizzler, he holds a piece above your mouth which you take from him with a giggle, "mm, thank you"
hamzah's eyes almost explode when he wakes up a week later to see you making yourself a smoothie clad only in a bra and silky sleep shorts. you'd laugh at him and tell him he's so fragile and he'd claim you're trying to steal his thing while covering his eyes dramatically.
ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . you like to play harmless pranks on in good spirits and post on your close friends story , calling it “hamzah hijinks”
ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . helps you cook or bake whenever you find a new recipe to try out on pinterest— at times they're even filmed and treated as competitions between you and mandy versus hamzah and martin
ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . finds it difficult to not have a crush on you when his audience constantly tells him otherwise
there are plenty of shipping posts that come from your appearances and mentions on his channel but from your attitude hamzah's convinced you must not be aware of them or are truly that unbothered by anyone's opinion
clips such as you wiping flour from his cheek to which he joked, “okay stop it now, you know that really ignites my mommy issues”
or when you guest starred on a patreon episode of the podcast, adding small tidbits to the conversation while petting blue and eating a strawberry popsicle. leading hamzah to over reach and pet blue with you randomly, which many fans found cute— like you were a family
or whenever martin would bring you up and hamzah would immediately focus on what he says afterwards— many viewers have concluded he’s obsessed with you
ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . now edits his youtube videos in the living room with your legs draped over his shoulders so that you can watch and help him when necessary (but mostly because of your abundantly clear physical love language)
ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . thinks it’s really sweet that you can find a piece of him in any and everything without trying
“so i was out…”
hamzah leans his forearms against the island counter with a grin and his headset shifted from his ears (you interrupted his gaming and told him to come see you afterwards but he insisted on pausing for you) “uh huhhh??”
“andddd… i found a cute small shop and guess what they specialize in?!!!!”
“what??!!!”
“custom sonny angels!! so i got one for each of us.” you smile wide, “it’s crazy i just showed them a picture of us and they based the outfits on it. look at them!!!”
hamzah opens the box and finds the two small figures; one garnering his iconic nap queen hoodie and the other in one of your cute red babydoll tops. his mouth is wide for an extra second, “oh my god it’s us as lil’ babies” he laughs, “that’s so fucking cool, how much did you pay for this?”
“don’t worry about that. while i was waiting for them to paint those i also got you this nice green shirt from urban i just like this shade on you.” you held up the shirt and hamzah hugs you gently thanking you again with a short kiss to the top of your head.
“now lemme see what you got for yourself.”
ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . surprisingly finds you hiding away in the en-suite bathroom during a party you’re both hosting
“i didn’t think you would be in here??” he says while shutting the door behind him and taking a seat next to you on the bathroom floor
“i’m surprised to see you in here i lost you somewhere between martin showing up and that group of girls whisking you away.” you genuinely joke.
hamzah chuckles and scratches the back of his neck, “yeah it’s really not like that— i’m really not like that.”
“i know you.” you smile at his oddly nervous face.
“why’d you end up in here?” he sighs and gives your side a soft tap of acknowledgment.
“i thought i just needed to use the bathroom but then i started to find myself way happier alone in here than out there right now.”
“i feel that. i don’t know if half of those people even know this is my house.”
“i know most of them don’t know this is my house.”
hamzah laughs and lets his head hang into the open space of his bent legs, to which you take the opportunity to steal his hat from his head, plopping it on top of yours.
“come on bruh, that was supposed to cover up this mess!” hamzah jokes referring to his wildly curly hair.
“it’s far from a mess hamzah, please.” and when he turns to you, you cradle his head with both hands, scratching softly at his scalp to help revive his hat-hair.
he stares at you kindly, “mm’hold on let me see it,” he gently pulls your hands away and stands to look into the mirror. “oh my god it’s fucking horrid.”
you stand up to defend as if you crafted his hair yourself, “stop it! it looks fine,” you lean onto your tip toes to fluff it a little more, “i like it like this,”
“oh really?” he exaggerates a lift of his eyebrows and manages to catch your eye in the mirror for a second before you look away bashfully.
“hey! don’t get all shy now,” he looks behind him and confidently wraps his arm around you and pulls you close, “it’s okay. i like yours like this,” he smiles and you roll your eyes playfully.
“‘m not gettin’ shy!” you wrap your arms around his lower torso and bury your head in his chest before you pop the question, reaching up to whisper in his ear, “did max bring you more weed??”
ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . hotboxes your bathroom with you, making sure to bring any snacks from the crowded kitchen for the munchies that will undoubtedly come afterward
this is one of the few times you’ve got a real good look in hamzah’s eyes.
the bathroom reeks of weed and the two of you (mostly you) decided that sitting face to face was far better than side by side. it was silent for a while before you felt the need to speak about his eyes.
“did you know your eyes aren’t black?” you ask.
hamzah shakes his head slowly.
“well they have the tiniest brownie-brown to them but you’d only know if you’re like this close,” you jokingly move close enough to touch your noses together.
hamzah looks over your entire face, realizing he’s never been this physically close to you before. you glance at his lips then to his glossy red eyes.
“you smell like coconut cookies,” hamzah smiles.
you sit back on your calves, across from him with his legs crossed, “i think it’s my shampoo,” you play around with a few strands.
“yeah?”
“yeah,” you nod before sitting up again, resting your hands lightly on his thighs to hold yourself up, “do you wanna do something?”
he stares at you for a moment, “like what?”
“do you trust me?” he finds that your eyes glimmer extra when they’ve got that certain puffiness and widened pupil combination.
“yeah, ‘f course, but what are we doinggg?” hamzah drags unseriously.
“just shhh,” you smile and reach for his arm behind him, slowly bringing his cold hand up to your soft cheek. “is that okay?”
hamzah sends a silent nod.
“okay,” you breathe and bring your face closer to his.
hamzah’s mind is so boggled. he can’t believe any of this; he’s completely struck by awe and tangled in your sweet cherry stem of affection. he thinks you’re a special kind of girl; one with an attitude both sexy and innocently loving. so infatuating that he’s realizing he can’t kiss you, not here, not when you’re high and thinking irresponsibly.
not when there’s a chance that you’ll wake up tomorrow and not remember it, or worse ask him to forget about it for your sake.
not when your friendship lies directly on that line.
“mm, yeah we really… shouldn’t…” he takes pauses between his words, it almost physically hurts him to see you that stunned by his words with your face still safe in his palm.
you’re completely flustered and blink your eyes a few times before retreating from his space, “oh… fuck, i’m so sorry that was-”
“it’s not like that- it’s more like, not right now. later?” he scrambles for a response as you’re trying to keep yourself from drowning in embarrassment.
“mhm sure yeah, i’ll be back.” you give a forced smile and leave him alone on the tile floor.
ROOMMATE!HAMZAH WHO . . . you wake up the morning after a house party and find in your bathroom tub with a sharpie mustache above his lip and a pink post it note that read: “GOODNIGHT SUGAR!!! BEST PARTY EVER - Martin :D” written in a barely legible scrawl
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photoboothkisses · 3 months ago
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Random boyfriend Hamzah texts 🤍
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I don’t know how to feel about these to be honest; I found it hard to portray him through texts 🙃
xoxo
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dabuggh3 · 7 months ago
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Im sad and touch deprived so I wrote this ⭐️enjoyy!! <3
You and Hamzah weren’t having a good day. You guys got into an argument early in the morning about petty stuff, due to stress. You went to work and he went over to Martins to film. Through out the day you guys didn’t speak at all, no text, no phone call, nothing.
While having your lunch break you thought about the argument and it just got you more mad. Through out the day you were silent and just straight faced. Some of your close coworkers even asked you if you were okay. But you just brushed them off and said you didn’t get a lot of sleep.
It was around 8 and you were clocking out of work, you head out to your car and just sat there for a little, “ He didn’t even text me if he was going home yet” you thought to yourself but usually he came home later at night anyways. You play your music and start to drive, half way through the drive you and Hamzah’s favorite song starts to play. Your face softens and you think how stupid the argument was, you love him too much to stay mad over something petty.
Before you head home you decide to stop by Nanis gelato to get some for him and you. You get to your apartment and put the gelato in the fridge, you wanted to wait for him. You get out of your work clothes and get into something comfortable. You clean up the apartment as you watch, 10 Things I Hate About You. You hear your phone ring. It was a text from Hamzah, “ I’m going home” you smile,“ Okay drive safe”. You finish cleaning and decide to start cooking something.
You were still deciding dinner, when you hear the door open. You turn and see Hamzah smiling softly, “ Hi babe”. You look at him,“ Hi baby”, he turns and reaches for something. He turns back around with flowers, “ I’m sorry about this morning I was being stupid and petty, I’m sorry”, he says locking eyes with you, while fidgeting with his hat. You smile, “I’m sorry too, it was dumb”, you walk up to him, giving him a hug.
Hamzah puts the flowers down on the counter and hugs you harder. He turns his head and kisses your check repeatedly, wanting to hear you laugh. You guys let go of each other and you give him a kiss. “ Thank you for the flowers, I got you something too”. You walk over to the fridge and showing him the gelato. “ What, nooo no way” he says excited with a smile, “ thank you” he kisses your forehead giving you another hug.
He leans on the counter facing you,“ So how did it go with Martin”. “ It was good, we finished the video” “ That’s good, oh I was just thinking of what to make for dinner, what do you think? you want anything specific ?” you turn to look at him. He looks at you making that dumb face he makes when he has something planned, “ Do you want to go out to eat?, a date.” “What, yess duh” you say. “ Perfect then go get dressed”
You and Hamzah go out to eat at a new place you’ve been dying to eat at. You guys talk about your days and laugh about dumb things. “ No he said that and I just had to sit there with a straight face”. You laugh, “ You know dam welllll”. You guys head back home blasting music. Once your home, you guys lay on the couch eating your gelato. “ Can I try some” “ Of course”
It’s the little things fr 😭. Also what song would you guys have be you and Hamzah’s ( hope that makes sense lol)
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theslushiestnoob · 1 month ago
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THE BOY NEXT DOOR (pt2)
Word count: 2k
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I need more furniture, I decided. My new flat, while nice, was boringly empty - vast expanses of walls remained unadorned, significant areas of the floor unfurnished. I had the basics - a bed, a kitchen, a chair, but I didn’t love any of them; they didn’t scream ‘me’ like I wanted them to.
I set out with the intention of buying a sofa - something plush and deep which I could collapse onto after a long day. As I swiftly discovered, sofas are expensive, and so my options were limited. I settled on a sage green one, padded with large pillows and a complementary throw blanket - included by the overly nice salesmen who seemed to take a particular interest in my customer satisfaction.
Driving through downtown Toronto with a huge green sofa strapped to the roof of my car was not a situation I’d predicted I would find myself in, but I can’t say that it is hugely out of character for me. Arriving at my place soon after, I placed my hands on my hips as I assessed the situation. Me, a sofa currently on top of my car, and four flights of stairs. Things were feeling awfully like an episode of friends before I was interrupted from my thoughts by a high voice.
‘Do you need some help?’
I turned around to face a small, pretty blonde woman standing in front of a tall dark-haired man. Her hair was held out of her face by a claw clip, her outgrown curtain bangs tucked behind her ears. She had a kind expression - the kind of face which you feel comfortable telling all of your darkest secrets to with no doubt of her loyalty. The man behind her held onto her hand affectionately, looking at the sofa with an intrigued expression.
‘Actually, yes please. I need to bring this up to my flat,’ I explain, smiling gratefully at their generosity.
‘I know I offered, but I think this is a job for you, Martin,’ The woman says, turning to rest her hand reassuringly on Martin’s shoulder. He sighs playfully, shooting her a soft smile before stepping toward my car.
‘Alright, Mandy watch out - let's just lift it onto the sidewalk first,’ He instructs, hooking his hands around the leg of the sofa. I mirror his movement, heaving with effort as we lower it onto the pavement. Martin straightens, shaking out his arms. He attempts to lift the sofa up again, but swiftly places it back down.
‘Honestly, I don't think we can do this alone,’ Martin pauses and gestures toward the complex. ‘Our friend lives in this building - he can help us.’
‘That would be perfect, thank you so much,’ I say, returning the smile Mandy gives me.
She pulls out her phone, rapidly texting who I assume to be their friend.
Less than two minutes later, a figure starts walking toward us; stocky, with golden skin and bouncing curls that I am frustratedly attracted to.
‘Oh, Jesus christ…’ I groaned under my breath as Hamzah approached us, his face contorted in a puckered smile.
‘Hey, y/n, good to see you again,’ He says with a mocking smirk.
‘You two know each other?’ Martin asks, slapping a hand against Hamzah’s back in greeting.
‘Not really,’ I replied, at the exact time Hamzah said ‘Yes’. I shot him an annoyed glance, causing his smile to widen further.
‘We’re neighbours,’ I explain, as Hamzah turns to hug Mandy.
‘Neighbours,’ Hamzah parrots in an amused tone. He turns to face Martin, asking ‘What did you say about a couch?’ 
‘Well, if you look just here there's a sofa, and it's supposed to be in my living room, not the side of the road,’ I explain, my tone mildly sarcastic.
‘Really?’ Hamzah deadpans. ‘But it goes so well with the greenery…’
I roll my eyes, turning away from him as he and Martin plot how they’re going to transport my sofa up to the fourth floor.
*
‘Thank you guys so much, honestly I could not have done it without you,’ I lean against the back of the sofa, now positioned perfectly in my living room.
‘Oh, we know girl,’ Hamzah mutters, and I shoot him a death stare.
‘It was so nice to meet you, too,’ I say to Mandy and Martin, ignoring Hamzah. Mandy steps towards me and hugs me, shocking me for a moment but I swiftly return the embrace.
‘We’ll see you again, I’m sure,’ Mandy says, ‘but here’s my number. You seem cool.’ She grabs my phone from the table, holding it in front of my face to unlock it and entering her number into my contacts. I secretly admire her unwavering assuredness, complete confidence that can only come from a certain kind of person.
The three of them leave my flat soon after, leaving me to plan out the rest of my decorations. I was hit by a wave of inspiration; two organised pin-boards and four shifts of the sofa later it was suddenly late into the evening. Through the paper-thin walls, I had heard the faint chatter coming from Hamzah’s place. As a trio, they seemed so close, so familiar - a great dynamic between them.
*
It was the late evening when I heard the knock - a brief but resounding sound that stirred me from reading on the sofa.
Opening the door, I rolled my eyes.
‘Ah, always so glad to see me,’ Hamzah deadpans, his arms laden with leaves. I looked him up and down, my eyes narrowed in question. He had a potted plant tucked under each arm and another on the floor beside him.
‘Why are you at my door with several houseplants?’ I ask, meeting his gaze and registering his amused smile.
‘To help you decorate. This place feels like a hospital. Very clinical,’ He replies, looking critically past my head and into the admittedly undecorated flat.
‘Hey! That's so unfair. I’ve lived here for three days - reserve your judgement, please,’ I say, turning around and leading him inside. He follows me to the expansive living room, placing the larger plant beside the sofa.
‘Already such an improvement. Adds some life, and there's just enough sunlight here from the window,’ he says quietly, admiring his own work. I cross my arms across my chest and smirk at him.
‘Didn’t take you for the gardening type,’ I say when he turns to look at me. He scoffs, shaking his head dismissively.
‘It’s calming. I actually just needed to get rid of some plants, so I’m dumping them with you.’
‘Oh, definitely. There was no generosity behind this at all, purely selfish,’ I say sarcastically. Hamzah turns to me, a vaguely pained expression crossing his rugged face as his eyebrows cinched. 
Moving around the apartment, he placed the plants - reciting care instructions to me. Water, light, humidity, nutrients - my head was swimming with all of the information he was feeding me. I was somewhat anxious for the responsibility - my pride would not allow me to let these plants die, I knew he would not let me live it down.
‘That’s pretty much it,’ Hamzah concludes, as if he hadn’t completely overwhelmed me with his vast knowledge of plant-care.
‘Great. And thank you, Hamzah, it was nice of you to give me these, I’m surprised.’ I said with a smile. He is quiet, his jaw flexing in response as a strained smile crossed his face.
He turned toward the door, pacing briskly to the exit. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, I felt compelled to ask him something.
‘Why are you so loud?’
‘What?’
‘You shout, a lot. Like when we first met - I was asking you to be quiet. Is it part of your job or something?’
‘Kinda, actually,’ he says with a laugh.
‘Okay, so you’re a voice actor. No, a horror game tester, or a sports commentator-’
‘I’m a YouTuber,’ He interrupts. There is a pause, and I giggle.
‘No, you’re not,’ I laugh.
‘Yes, I am,’ he affirms, crossing his arms across his chest.
‘You’re kidding, right?’
He scowls at me.
‘Oh, jeez, you’re not kidding. I mean - that’s not a bad thing, it's actually really cool, it's just unexpected. Like who is a successful youtuber, y’know?’
‘Mandy and Martin are, too,’ he adds humorlessly. I feel myself digging a deeper hole with every word I say, stammering as I try to explain myself.
‘I was surprised because that's a crazy freaking job - it’s every kid’s dream, no?’
He cocks an eyebrow, glaring at me wordlessly.
I feel my caution slip away. What do I care if I offend him? 
‘Still not a great excuse to be unnecessarily loud,’ I mutter under my breath.
He grins amusedly, shaking his head gently as he slips out of the door.
*
Food. A fairly important thing in life - one which I was completely lacking. I had an urgent need for a supermarket trip - and a lazy Sunday morning was the perfect time to do so.
I step out of my flat, balancing my cup of coffee and my reusable bags as I fiddle with the lock. 
I hear a faint, mocking laugh from behind me.
‘Just stop,’ Hamzah’s deep voice mutters, sidling beside me and taking the keys from my fumbling hands. For a brief moment, our hands touched - his skin was the darkest colour of honey, its blazing heat eliciting a shock through my body. His dark eyes snapped to mine momentarily, his emotion indiscernible as he locked my door. His hair was tousled and his curls unruly, giving me the expression that he had just woken up. I felt a compulsion to speak, attempting to quell the intensity of the moment.
‘Why are you up so early?’ I ask, eyeing him up and down. I registered the length of his shorts, my stomach involuntarily flipping as my gaze absorbed the expanse of his exposed brown skin from his mid-thigh down to his ankles. Even in his half-asleep state, he was frustratingly handsome - his indifference increasing his attractiveness.
When I met his eyes again, he was smirking, an incredulous expression on his face.
‘Did you just check me out?’ He said amusedly.
I flushed, stammering as I scoffed at the idea.
‘Just answer my question, stop deflecting.’ I say, diverting the topic.
‘We’re filming a podcast episode.’
A wicked smile contorts my face.
‘Now that has to be a joke,’
He frowns.
‘Why don’t you believe a word I say, y/n? Why would I lie about that?’
‘No way you have a podcast. What do you mean by ‘we’?’
‘Martin and I. We do it together, mainly. What’s so wrong with that?’
I laugh, looking up at his face. He wore a genuine expression, defensive and proud.
‘Nothing’s wrong with it, podcaster.’
He sighs, walking toward the staircase.
‘Why do you say it like it’s derogatory?’
*
The supermarket trip was successful - getting back home was the frustrating part. Toronto traffic was almost impenetrable at the best of times, and a local event increased the amount of drivers by tenfold. It took almost an hour to travel the five mile journey from the shop back to the flat - by the end of which I was thoroughly annoyed.
Finally pulling into the car park, I immediately spotted the one vacant space conveniently close to the building’s entrance. I smiled to myself triumphantly, driving toward it intently. Instantaneously, a black car pulled around the corner and swung right into the space.
I instinctively pressed my horn, blaring angrily at the conceited car that stole my spot. I pulled up closer toward it, scowling into the tinted window. It began to roll down, and in the driver's seat sat a beautiful yet infuriating man with a head of dark curls.
‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ I mutter, rolling down my window.
I lean out of the car, locking eyes with him.
‘You stole my spot, asshole!’ I shout, fixing him with my angry glare.
‘I was here first!’ Hamzah shouts back over the mechanical noises of our running cars. ‘I’ve been parking here for months, girl. You’re the newbie,’ He shrugs.
I hold up a middle finger out of the window as I speed away from him - the noise of his victorious laughter reverberating in my head.
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