idk if this fits the au 100%, but could u write something about reader finding out that dealer!hamzah actually uses glasses but never wears them and she’s all like 🙈🙈🙈omg put them on pls?! and he’s like no way (lowkey flustered).
or like, he shows up with the stuff, but he’s wearing his glasses and she’s all like ??? boi who tf are u?? and lowkey starts cheesing about it. literally anything down that road and i’ll kiss u, thank u:33
four eyes
you find them by accident. they’re sitting on his nightstand, tucked behind a stack of lighters and a pack of gum, half-buried like he meant to hide them. black frames, smudged lenses, one arm slightly bent out of shape.
“wait - hamzah, are these yours?”
you hold them up. hamzah looks up from the floor, and his face immediately twists.
“uh. no?” he says, too fast.
you raise an eyebrow. “so who do they belong to? your cats?”
he groans, habitually rubbing the back of his neck, like he always does. “i forgot they were there.”
“you wear glasses?”
“not, like, wear wear.”
you grin. “what does that even mean?”
“i need them to be able to read sometimes,” he mumbles. “it’s not a big deal.”
you’re already sliding them on your own face. they’re too big for you, but you push them up your nose dramatically. “cute?” you ask teasingly.
“yeah. now take ‘em off.” he huffs, reaching out towards you.
you dodge his hand easily, laughing. “no, wait - you put them on. like actually.”
“no.”
“pleaseee?”
he shakes his head, but he’s smiling now - all shy and scrunched up, because he already knows he’s going to give in.
you crawl across the bed and hold them out. “you owe me. you made me try that nasty ass edible last week because you were too scared.”
he sighs, dramatically, like you’re asking him to sell his soul.
then he takes them. he slips them on.
he blinks and pushes them up his nose, looking away from your gaze because now you’re staring.
“oh my god,” you whisper. “you’re, like.. weirdly hotter with them on, hamzah.”
he immediately tugs them off. “nope.”
“wait-!”
“nope. you’re not allowed to say shit like that.”
you tackle him into the mattress, giggling, trying to grab them back, and he’s laughing now too - warm and flushed and totally helpless as you crawl over him.
a/n: such a cute requesttt :) more dealerzah to come but i am getting a little busy again i’ll be back soon heh
playlist; ♫ one night only, sonder ꒱ ♫ drew barrymore, sza ꒱ ♫ white tee, lil peep, lil tracy ꒱ ♫ hollow be thy squad, xavier wulf ꒱ ♫ how many drinks? miguel ꒱ ♫ cry baby, the neighbourhood ꒱ ♫ 1000 blunts, $suicideboy$ ꒱ ♫ helmet, steve lacy ꒱ ♫ garden, sza ꒱ ♫ recognize, partynextdoor ꒱ ♫ sex on the beach, partynextdoor ꒱
brother's bsf!hamzah sneaking into your room during family vacation (reader's brother sees him as a family friend so brought bro along not knowing when he's asleep hamzah is making his way over to your bedroom)
・❥・brother's bsf!hamzah sneaking into your room on vacation while your brother is fast asleep in the other room.
Hamzah stayed as quiet as possible when he lifted the blanket off of himself and swung his feet over the edge of the couch. He and your brother had been watching a painfully boring ass movie — so boring, in fact, that your brother had knocked out almost immediately. However, it worked out perfectly for Hamzah in the end, since he’d been waiting for the right moment to slip away and make his way over to your room in the beach house. Every summer followed the same routine: you, your brother, and Hamzah. Usually, it was Hamzah and your brother who headed to the beach while you hung out with your friends from the neighboring beach house. But this time, you didn’t invite anyone, just to avoid the risk of someone catching on to what was happening between the two of you.
Hamzah slowly turned the doorknob, holding his breath as the hinges creaked. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, barely louder than a whisper. His brown eyes moved nervously toward your brother, still sprawled out on the couch. They’d gotten high beforehand, and Hamzah was more wrecked than ever; eyes low and watery, sooo needy for you.
He couldn’t stop imagining touching you, fingers flexing with the urge to feel your creamy skin beneath his palms. His mind spiraled with images: you straddling him, wearing nothing but his hoodie. The thought alone made him grunt under his breath. The thought of the fabric bunched around your thighs, his smell all over you, and the hood pulled up over your head, his hands gripping the drawstrings. Every time you rocked your hips, he’d give the strings a little tug for more. Faster. Soooooo much faster.
He shut the door behind him, the ‘click’ swallowed by the silence of the hallway. With a quick swipe, he turned on his phone’s flashlight as he quietly made his way toward your room. Which sat toward the very back of the beach house. You had claimed that room for as longggg as Hamzah could remember. He also remembered all the ex boyfriends you used to bring around, back before things changed between you and him.
Reaching your door, hamzah gripped the knob, turning it before nudging it open just enough to slip inside. His eyes immediately landed on you, lying on the bed, your computer resting in front of you. You had looked up the moment the door creaked open, a smile spreading across your gorgeous face the instant you saw Hamzah. You slid your MacBook to the side, the rustle of sheets following as you sat up quickly. Hamzah stepped inside, and with a click, he shut the door behind him and turned the lock.
You crossed the room in a few steps, your hands sliding up around his neck as you gently pulled him down to meet your height. Your lips found his in a kiss. His hands moved to the small of your back, guiding you closer until your body was pressed fully against his. When you quickly pulled away, the mcht sound came soon after. "You took so fuckin’ long... was starting to miss you," you murmured, slipping your hand into his. With a tug, you led him toward the bed.
“I had to wait until your brother was asleep,” he said, relaxing himself onto the bed and lying back. His hand reached out to pat his lap invitingly as he propped himself up on his elbows, urging you to climb up and settle against him. You climbed onto him with an eager smile as you straddled his lap, your hair spilling over your shoulder to the right. You dipped your head, catching his eye just long enough to make his lips part — then your lips met his again, teeth grazing his bottom lip, giving it a small bite before letting go, watching it plump back up.
Hamzah turned his head just a little, still lying on his back with you hovering above him. He reached for your laptop and opened the ‘Photo Booth’ app. He scrolled through the colorful filters before settling on the simple, unfiltered camera. Switching to video mode, he hit record. “What’re you doi—” he cut you off, rolling you both over so he was now on top. The MacBook caught everything in video, catching the way his hand reached out and gently tugged at the end of your spaghetti strap shirt. You caught on to what he meant almost instantly. Without any sort of hesitation, you lifted your shirt, bunching the fabric just beneath your collarbones. No bra, of course — you always ditched it when the weather turned warm.
However, due to new air kissing your skin, your nipples reacted immediately, hardening your pebbles, all sensitive under his gaze. Hamzah rolled each thumb gently over the peaks of your breasts. “Y’like that?” your brown nipples hardened even more under his touch, responding to the warmth of his fingers. He applied just enough force to make them tingle pleasantly without causing discomfort. "Mhm," you responded.
Suddenly, he pinched your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger, causing a slight flinch from you. "Hurts?" you gave a small nod, letting your bottom lip fall between your teeth, “My bad.” He let his hands fall away, only to dip his head instead, pressing his mouth lower, as if to apologize with touch rather than words.
His breath ghosted over your nipple, sending a tickle down your spine. The photobooth camera on your MacBook captured the exact moment Hamzah closed his mouth around you: lips parting to draw your nipple in, sucking with pressure. Your own lips parted in response, bottom one falling slack as a whiny sound slipped through the small space. A sound you hadn’t even realized you were making.
A weak “mmm” escaped through your nose. Hamzah moved to the other hardened pebble. He teased it at first with a lick of his pink tongue before wrapping his lips around it, drawing it into the hotness of his mouth. He began to suck harder, pulling a gasp from your mouth. Your back arched off the bed in response, body chasing the good fuckin’ feeling. The movement had worked perfectly in his favor, since, you ended up pressing your breast deeper into his mouth, offering more, and he took it as greedily as he is when it comes to you.
When he finally pulled away with a wet pop, both of your breasts were marked, fat hickeys blossoming around each nipple, the proof of his mouth very noticeable against your creamy skin. The sight made him all giddy and shit. He brought his hands up, squeezing your breasts together until the meat fat spilled between his fingers, closing the valley between your tits. They pressed against each other, bouncy and beautiful, before he let go with an exhale.
Reaching for the MacBook, he turned the screen so you both could see. The camera catching everything: the hickeys over your skin, blending into the curves of your nipples like art that could be placed in a fuckin’ museum. “Send this to me later,” he murmured, still watching the screen as he ended the recording.
nav ; m.list.
ꪆৎ ˚⋅ requests are open! was very late to this ask but thankful you were patient!! xo, jaden.
The first time you really see it. The nerves, the hesitation—is when his hands stall on the hem of your shirt. Not in a way that’s obvious. Hamzah’s good at masking things. He’s used to keeping himself composed, always in control. But his fingers twitch like he’s second-guessing. His eyes flick down then back up. And when you reach for him, he breathes out shakily like he’s been holding that breath for minutes. You touch his cheek. “Hey,” you say softly. “We can slow down.”
“I don’t want to,” he blurts, almost too fast. Then quieter: “I mean Ido, if you want to. But I don’t want to stop. I just—” His voice breaks off. His hand slides up to cradle your waist, almost reverently, like you might fade if he’s not careful. “I haven’t done this before.” The words hit the air and hang there, delicate and uncertain. You blink, processing. He doesn’t look at you. His shoulders tense like he’s waiting for you to laugh. Or pity him. Or pull away. But you don’t. You just reach up, brush his curls out of his eyes and say the one thing he clearly didn’t expect, “Okay.” That’s it. Just okay.
No teasing. No judgment. Just the warmth of your hands on his face and the kind of gaze that makes his stomach twist in ways that have nothing to do with lust. “I… thought I should’ve told you earlier,” he says quietly, still not meeting your eyes. “But I didn’t want you to think—”
“Think what?”
“That I wouldn’t want you. Or that I’d be bad at it. Or that I’m weird for waiting.” You shake your head instantly. “Hamzah. I would never think that.”
“I know. I just…” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “It’s stupid, I guess. Everyone I know acts like it’s not a big deal. Like I’m supposed to have checked this box already. But it’s not just a box to me.” His voice cracks a little at the end. He tries to blink it away, to play it off but then your hands are on either side of his face and your thumb is brushing across the curve of his jaw. “It’s not stupid,” you tell him. “You waited until it felt right. Until I felt right. That’s not weird, Hamzah. That’s…” You trail off, heart swelling. “That’s kind of beautiful.” He finally looks at you. And the way he looks at you—like you just rewrote every memory he’s ever had of what this moment could be—makes your whole chest ache. “Tell me what you need,” you whisper. “What you want.”
“I want you,” he says. No hesitation. “I just… I don’t know how to—”
“You don’t have to be good at it,” you interrupt gently. “You just have to be with me.” That’s all it takes. He leans in like gravity pulls him there. His lips find yours—softer than usual, slower, like he’s tasting the moment more than the kiss. And when he exhales against your mouth, it sounds like a confession. When you lie back, he follows without a word, hands bracketing your hips like he’s afraid to press too hard. You guide him gently, showing him how to move, how to touch, how to breathe when his heart starts racing again. His hands tremble. His mouth is warm and everywhere—your throat, your collarbone, your stomach. Like he’s been imagining this for months and still can’t believe it’s real. “I want to make it good for you,” he murmurs against your skin. “It is good,” you tell him, tugging him closer. “It’s you. Of course it’s good.”
He lets out a soft, breathless laugh. He’s half-relieved, half-dazed and then lets himself fall. Not all at once. Not in one big, messy collapse. But in a hundred tiny ways. The way his forehead presses to your shoulder. The way his voice drops to a whisper when he says your name. The way he keeps whispering thank you even when you’re just lying there in the quiet, your fingers threaded through his hair, his breath still uneven against your neck. He never expected it to feel like this. Not so big. Not so safe. Not like finally finding the part of himself he didn’t know was missing.
♥︎ warnings. contains themes of betrayal, heartbreak, avoidant attachment issues, reader being a bitch, sexual content (including use of toys), and strong language. please review all warnings before proceeding. i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage with.
♥︎ summary. you and hamzah were everything but official: friends, fuck buddies, twisted in avoidance. for fuckin’ years, you shared a bed, moans, saliva, all while running from the very thing he wanted most: connection. your avoidant attachment made it easier to push him away than risk losing him, until one day you just… left. two years later, a woman shows up at the house you share with your best friend. she’s gorgeous and weirdly familiar. she claims her boyfriend is throwing a party but something’s off. the way she looks at you, the tension when your eyes meet… it’s too harsh to not mean anything.
Ik you’re so busy but when is your next work coming
i’ve been working on a series & that’s mainly all, kind of putting writing to a pause every few days since i’ve been so busy with other things 😞 like, guys, i have shit to pay & i’m buying my new macbook tomorrow ‘cause my other one broke and i need it for work and then it’s straight to my friends house to help with her party. all week haven’t sat down and genuinely watched anything so ppl asking abt new videos i genuinely am not caught up with that or the fandom 😭😭
I don't know if this is stupid and if it is ignore me but every time you and @bluntzah interact It feels like an episode crossover 💀 my two favorite Hamzah writers ❤️ (Need more dealer!hamzah)
just ordered from my 🔌 and usually that mf be making me crash out by not responding fast even tho his insta name is literally “fast lanes” but today he saw it quickly and he said send the addy and i’ve never been more happy, just wanted to share how giddy i am 😋
hamzah sending you countless of messages about how much he missed you while you were on a trip with your school. who thought being in band would involve so much traveling ?
“where’s my pretty girl?”
“don’t forget to send selfies”
“i sent you some money”
“come home now.. kids miss you. (and i do too)”
the threads went on and on, and your heart smiled each time you read a notification from him, until he sent one that made your jaw drop.
“missing that pussy like crazy.”
a message sent with a video attached of hamzah fucking into a pocket pussy that you’d sent him as a joke, not thinking that he’d actually use it.
the video was on repeat while your pussy throbbed uncontrollably. eyes never leaving the bulge that he put in the poor silicone. he was left on seen for a good 10 minutes, a smirk plastered on his face.
౨౿ ྀ warnings. mentions of blowjobs, very detailed description & foul language. please review all warnings before proceeding. i’m not responsible for what you choose to engage or interact with.
౨౿ ྀ summary. your brother plans a prank to scare you with help from his best friend, hamzah, but you flip the damn script. what was meant to scare you turns into a insane, fucked moment, one that risks exposing the secret you and hamzah have been hiding all along.
“We’re gonna get her sooooo good,” your brother said with a grin, giving a thumbs up toward Hamzah, who was trying to keep the camera hidden: almost like saying: She can’t see it from here. “m’not entirely convinced she’ll fall for this prank,” Hamzah muttered as he walked over and took the mask from your brother. “She’s kind of slow when it comes to life or death situations.”
“True,” your brother muttered, pulling the mask over his face. The plastic stretched slightly as it slid into place, transforming his familiar features into something more creepy. Hamzah caught the edge of the mask’s hollow eyes, making them look even more weird.
Ever since you’d accidentally snapped the arm off your brother’s glasses and flat out refused to pay for a replacement, he’d been planning over a way to get even. He wasn’t out for revenge exactly, just a good scare. Something to remind you not to mess with his shit again.
Hamzah had casually mentioned that you watched ‘The Purge’ last night, dropping it into conversation like it was nothing. But the moment the words hit his ear, your brother’s head snapped toward him.
“How the fuck do you know that?” each word dripping with suspicion. Hamzah froze for a moment. “Heard it when I was leaving yesterday.” Just like that, your brother’s gaze stayed for another second, long enough to make Hamzah feel the fuck out of it, before he gave a small grunt and looked away.
The breath Hamzah let out was as though he’d been underwater and had finally broken the damn surface. The relief that washed over his face was instant. His shoulders dropped slightly, and his fingers unclenched from the edge of the couch. He was lucky, seriously lucky that Hamzah actually came over yesterday to hang out with his best friend before slipping off to your room. If he hadn’t, that quick little lie would've crumbled the second he decided to push further.
Your brother was already plotting something. So, later that day, he dragged Hamzah along with him to a sketchy party store. They came back with cheap masks, but weirdly identical to the ones from The Purge.
You had gone to pick up the food your brother purposefully assigned to you, all part of his little prank. He needed time, after all. Time for him and Hamzah to finalize their plan, throw on the all black outfits, and run out to grab the masks.
And because your brother knew you better than you'd like to admit, he ordered from that one spot located near all your favorite stores. He counted on you getting distracted, staying longer than necessary, just like you always did.
It had become a habit, one that annoyed him more times than he could count. But today, it worked perfectly in his favor.
Hamzah had played ‘The Purge’ broadcast sound on the living room TV, strategically chosen, since it would be the first thing you’d hear the moment you walked through the door.
They had every detail planned out: Hamzah would be the first person you’d see, standing silently in a corner, hidden behind his mask. The second you bolted in fear toward your bedroom, your brother would be waiting for part two of the prank. Both of them closing in on you until you were so terrified you’d start crying: that’s exactly how your brother imagined it going, and exactly how he instructed Hamzah to carry it out.
“What if she tries to run out the door?” Hamzah asked, imagining the door still slightly open when you catch sight of him and run the other way. “Grab her? We’re grown men, Hamzah. She’s a little fuckin’ girl,” your brother annoyingly muttered as he jabbed the volume up button on the remote. “I give you permission to touch her if that makes you feel better, or whatever,” he added with a shrug.
Hamzah nearly laughed at the phrase “little fuckin’ girl,” considering you were only a year younger. And when your brother said, “I’ll give you permission to touch her,” stupidly unaware that Hamzah had already done far more than just touching you.
“Stick to the plan,” your brother said, adjusting his mask. “That bitch is gonna learn not to break my stuff and then act like she doesn’t have to pay for it.” Hamzah pulled on his own mask: the one he’d specifically chosen, the one your brother had called ‘creepy as fuck,’ which was exactly the vibe they were aiming for.
It wasn’t until then that Hamzah noticed your car pulling into the driveway, visible through the porch camera. Your brother quickly jogged to your room, and as soon as Hamzah heard your door shut, he moved to his usual spot in the living room — tucked away in the far corner hidden by the window. It was the perfect place to stay out of sight.
Hamzah heard the sound of your car door shutting, followed by the rustling of bags. He nearly rolled his eyes. Of fuckin’ course, you’d gotten more than just the food. Your brother had called it perfectly. Sure enough, you walked up with four extra bags from different stores. One of them was from a clothing shop, and Hamzah had to stop himself from grinning at the thought: he couldn’t wait to ask you to try everything on for him later.
He heard your keys jingling first, then the creak of the door opening. Luckily, you didn’t notice Hamzah right away, too focused on getting all the bags inside without anything spilling or tearing open. “Got your shit!” you called out, not even bothering to unpack.
You dropped the bags where they landed and turned toward the living room. Only to freeze, eyes going wide the moment you saw him. Or rather, the masked figure you thought was a stranger.
For a singular second, panic flashed across your face as Hamzah stood there, having to chase you to your room — the one place you were supposed to run to. But to his surprise, you let out a quiet sigh. A sigh of relief. Hamzah took a step forward, bracing himself for the sprint he thought was coming. But you didn’t move. You just stood there, frozen in place.
You bite the inside of your cheek, shaking your head as you step toward Hamzah. You slowly close the distance until you’re standing right in front of him: so close that your nose brushes against the cold surface of his mask.
“Cute,” you muttered. “Watching The Purge while you fucked me into my bed last night gave you the idea, hm?” You hummed, knowing full well what you were doing. Even though you couldn’t see his face, Hamzah’s neck flushed red. He had a weird way of blushing, and this was definitely it. You’d made a point the night before to mention how hot the girls in the movie looked in those “KISS ME” masks. And sure enough, that’s exactly the one he was wearing now.
Hamzah prayed on anything and everything that your brother hadn’t heard a word. And as if the universe decided to mock him, the TV kicked on right then:
“This is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing the commencement of the first, official Purge. Sanctioned by the New Founding Fathers. A nationwide experiment of violence and crime is now in effect for twelve hours. All crime, including murder, is legal.”
You glanced over your shoulder when the broadcast started playing, but that was all. A blink, then your eyes were back on Hamzah.
He was still frozen. Not because the plan called for him to chase you into your room but because he physically couldn’t move. He couldn’t risk your brother seeing just how hard he was for his sister, how your casual teasing about last night made his heart pound like a drum.
You turned back with a sweet smile, reached up, and gently lifted his mask: just enough to see his face one last time before you slowly dropped to your knees.
“Your brother…” Hamzah finally managed to say. You shrugged, completely unbothered. “What about him?” Hamzah nearly choked on a gasp as your fingers started trailing along his belt.
“He’s… in your room,” he muttered, guilt creeping in. He knew damn well that if your brother found out he threw the whole prank by giving in to you, he’d probably slam Hamzah’s head into the nearest wall. You looked up at him through your lashes, innocent and dangerous all at once. “Why is he in my room?”
You began unzipping Hamzah’s pants, making his eyes flick toward your bedroom door: closed, but far too close for comfort. He knew your brother, his best friend, was waiting just behind it. “We were… uh… doing a prank,” he mumbled, trying to focus. You hummed, encouraging him to go on.
“Thought we’d scare you… after you broke your brother’s glasses…” His words trailed off, dissolving into silence as your fingers brushed against him through the thin fabric of his boxers. He inhaled, chest rising with the struggle it took not to make a sound.
“And you agreed to help him?” you asked with mock disappointment. Hamzah nodded, a little breathlessly. You shook your head slowly. “That’s so mean.” Just as the words left your mouth, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down, his dick springing free the moment it was released.
“Your brother—” “Then you better stay the fuck silent unless you want him to hear you,” you cut him off instantly, eyes locked dead on his. After all, they were the ones who planned this whole prank, now it was just about to blow up right in their faces.
Hamzah doesn’t protest. How could he? He doesn’t want you to stop. Who would? You’re on your knees, lashes fluttering as you look up at him, and now all he can think about is the heat of your mouth.
His cock throbs, just inches from your face, the tip already dripping with pre-cum. You lick your lips, hunger written all over your expression, desperate for the smallest taste.
You wrap your hand around his cock, your fingers not quite able to meet around him. You stick out your pink tongue and swipe up the drip of pre-cum, savoring the salty sweet taste, not givin’ a fuck at the slight bitterness that hits your tongue.
A soft hum escapes you: you like it. You part your lips and take the tip into your mouth. “Easy… mm… m’sensitive,” Hamzah stuttered, his voice shaky as his hand found its way into your hair, fingers curling. He loved the way your warm, wet mouth wrapped around him, how he could feel your saliva with every movement. Your tongue swirled around the head, gathering more pre-cum, like you were smacking on every drop.
You began to gently suck on his tip, and the reaction was instant: he twitched in your mouth, jaw tightening. “Mm,” he barely managed, biting down on the inside of his cheek to stay quiet. He was doing everything he could not to make a sound, everything. But it was nearly impossible with the only noise in the room being the sirens from the ‘Purge’ broadcast from the TV, the prank long gone from his mind.
You take him deeper, your lips stretching wide to fit his size. The head of his dick presses against the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex. Your eyes begin to water, tears welling up at the corners and slowly spilling over onto your puffy cheeks.
Forcing your jaw to relax, you push him impossibly deeper until your nose buries itself in his abs. "Sohh guhd," you try to say around him, but it comes out muffled and garbled, sending vibrations down his dick.
You arch your neck, pressing your throat and chin against him, creating the perfect angle for him to start face-fucking you. He grabs a handful of your hair, using it as force to snap his hips forward, driving his dick out and in, in and out of your mouth.
You pullback, lips sliding off his dick with a wet pop. A string of saliva stretches from your mouth to his meat as you gasp for air, your chest heaving as you look up at him through watery eyes.
Snatching the white mask with the grotesque smiling mouth from where you had perched it up on his head, you secured it back over Hamzah's face. You drop back down to your knees, wrapping your lips around him again, immediately picking up speed. Your head bobs faster, creating a wet sound as your mouth stretches around his thickness. Saliva bubbles at the corners of your lips, making the blowjob all the more messy.
Your cheeks hollow as you suck harder, creating the tightest seal with your lips. You watch in a trance as the masked Hamzah throws his head back, stretching his strong neck. You swirl your tongue around him, feeling every throbbing vein, sending trembles down his overstimulated body.
"Squeeze me right here, please squeeze... Mhm!" Hamzah's eyes roll back as he starts to lose control, his hands gripping your head tightly as he fucks your mouth. He knows that if his best friend walked in right now, he would be met with a beating. The sight of you on your knees, taking his cock so deeply down your throat that tears stream down your face, would enrage him. However, Hamzah can't stop, and neither can you.
You love the taste of him, love the way his cock throbs and twitches against your tongue and throat. Each movement brings him closer to the edge, and you can feel it building with every suck and swallow. His approaching orgasm is obvious in the way his dick pulses and jerks in your mouth.
His cock bulges noticeably before releasing the first hot spurt of cum directly into your throat. You gag slightly as the first wave hits you, immediately forcing you to swallow. The taste is amazing - creamy and salty, flooding your mouth and coating your pink tongue.
Hamzah quickly grabs the pillow from beside you on the couch, pressing it firmly against his face. He bites down hard, muffling his loudest moan. You stand up gracefully, carefully placing the pillow back where it belongs. Hamzah's breathing is heavy, rising and falling rapidly as he recovers from the mind blowing orgasm you just gave him.
He quickly pulls up his boxers and zips his pants, attempting to compose himself as quickly as possible. Meanwhile, you storm towards your bedroom, slamming the door open with a loud bang.
There was silence before Hamzah heard your brother’s frustrated voice. “How the hell did you know? Did Hamzah say something? Hamzah! What the fu—” but he was quickly interrupted by you. “Hamzah didn’t tell me anything. You and his height aren’t exactly hard to notice, dumbass.”
The next time the two of you came out of your room, Hamzah overheard your brother mutter, “You’re fuckin’ irritating.” You just shrugged, offering a small smile. “I don’t know, Hamzah doesn’t seem to find me irritating.” The only reason you said that was to get a reaction from Hamzah, knowing he was still recovering from the aftershocks of what you had just done. With your brother also in the room now, he couldn’t fully relax.
“The fuck are you talking about?” Your brother’s gaze immediately shifted to Hamzah, who quickly flushed and shrugged nervously, a slight panic evident in the back of his neck.
“I just mean,” you continued, “he doesn’t seem upset that the plan didn’t go as planned… right, Hamzah? You’re not mad?” Hamzah caught the playfulness in your eyes, recognizing the smile tugging at your lips as you recalled the moment you had taken care of him, made him feel so good.
“Whatever,” your brother muttered, signaling Hamzah to follow him as he began heading back toward his room. Hamzah let your brother walk ahead for a moment, then jogged over to you quickly, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before running to catch up with your brother.
