🪷totoro🪷|the filmy scribe|

🎧 current status: daydreaming in the catbus.

[filmy-totoro]

​hi there, traveler! 🍃 i'm toro, and this is my little sanctuary—just a quiet corner of the internet where i scribble whatever my heart wants.

~ ✿ Dhurandhar Masterlist ✿ ~

👉 ❀ Series ❀

👉 ❁ one-shots ❁

​🚫 note: my writing contains mature themes. please check individual trigger warnings before reading.

[sinnoire]

~Subah Ki Zid~ 🔞

– Rehman Baloch x Reader — Ficlet

Masterlist

Tropes:Morning After, Spooning, Steamy Fluff, Dom/Sub.

The sun was barely piercing through the thick bedroom curtains, but Rehman Baloch was already wide awake. You drifted out of sleep with a soft gasp, realizing his massive arm was securely banded around your waist, pulling your back completely flush against his broad, bare chest.

Every inch of your body ached beautifully from the long hours of your suhagrat, but the King of Lyari clearly wasn't finished claiming his new bride.

Before you could even fully open your eyes, his calloused hand slid up to cup the swell of your breast, kneading your soft fullness with a rough, possessive hunger. Below your waist, his hips rolled forward deliberately, pressing his thick, scorching morning arousal right into the cleft of your bottom, letting you feel exactly how ready he was.

"R-Rehman..." you whined softly, your voice thick with sleep. Your instinctively tried to inch away from the overwhelming, dangerous heat of him.

"Hilna nahi," he growled, a low, gravelly vibration right against your ear. His teeth caught your earlobe, nipping it gently before his tongue soothed the sting. "Raat bhar mein mera nasha utra nahi hai, jaan."

His hand left your chest, trailing down your flat stomach and slipping effortlessly between your thighs. You jolted as his thick fingers found you already slick and hypersensitive from the night before. He began stroking you with a slow, agonizing rhythm that instantly made your breath hitch in the quiet room.

"Rehman, dard ho raha hai... or subah bhi ho gayi hai," you pleaded weakly, your hands blindly reaching back to clutch at his thick thigh.

"Lyari mein subah mere hisaab se shuru hoti hai, meri malika," he hushed you, pulling your hips back to angle you perfectly against him.

With a heavy, breathless grunt, Rehman drove into you from behind. The sheer size and depth of him made you cry out, arching your back so your head fell back onto his shoulder. His arm locked around your stomach like an iron band, keeping you completely trapped and anchored to him as he began to move.

Slow. Deep. Impossibly dominant.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet, natural scent of your skin as he set a heavy, rhythmic pace that quickly melted your shy protests into soft, helpless moans. The spooning position gave you nowhere to hide; every thrust sent a shiver of pure electricity down your spine.

"Sshh... ab chup chap maze lo," Rehman rasped, his voice dark and heavy with lust. His hand came back up to tightly squeeze your breast, his thumb rolling over the peak as he pushed endlessly deep inside you. "Pura din yahin rahogi... meri baahon mein, meri qaid mein."

Taglist:— [want to be tagged? just ask 🤍] 👇

@anxiousbeeing @aditititiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @abolitionistlawpluscoffee @afortoru @avasif @blossomedfloweroflove @batata04 @cvclee @chai-aur-chaand @chocolate-and-trouble @carpediemdps707 @crimsontraditiongolem @dilfconisuer @debsreads21 @eypresho @falakrazzaq @gloriouspurpose01 @gulaabjamun08 @goldenharrysworld @gehra-hua @harrystyleskiwi9 @hereforfanfictionsfr @itsnotmai @kamalkafool @khlomoneyyyy4 @lavenderwinkle @laal-pari @miaaaow @miraclejin1204 @malekathesimp68 @main-apni-favorite-nahi-hoon @mainyahaankyunhoon @niyadarealart @nahhaaaas @ooopssssu @philosophical38 @pn28 @precioussophia @roses-and-iron @rosiasthings @rehmandakaitswife @sea-breeze-in-my-hair @scornedloverr @sabii5 @st4rmiist @seasonofthenerd @saniisinsane @written-in-ishq @writrsblu @between-smoke-and-roses

[filmy-totoro]

[sanajjjjjj]

Dhurandhar is a funny movie 🤭✨

Tried someone new 😭✨

[filmy-totoro]

Fitoor - Hamza Ali Mazari x Curvy!Reader [Dark Romance] (part-2 / ?)

part-1 < part-2 >part-3

• summary:- ​She spent her whole life trying to shrink into the background. Hamza would rather tear the world apart than let her hide from him. (Non-Spy AU)

• warnings:- Stalking, invasion of privacy, intense anxiety.

Author's note: Delayed? Yes, my bad! But I finally finished this chapter. It’s a certified slow burn, so ..... If you like the vibes, please leave a comment and reblog!

​P.S. I accidentally missed a few babies on the taglist this time, I'm so sorry! Drop a comment below if you got left off or want to be added. ❤️

Ever since that day at the rally, you started seeing him everywhere.

​It wasn't like you went out often anyway. Public spaces had always been a minefield—too loud, too many eyes, too many heavy reminders of the past you’d rather forget. You only braved the streets when you absolutely had to. When a craving got bad enough to override the panic and drag you out to Bohri Bazaar against your better judgment.

​And the second you stepped outside, the dupatta came up first. You pulled it close, arranging the fabric like armor because public spaces had eyes and eyes had opinions and you had spent enough years on the receiving end of both to stop pretending otherwise.

​That was how you first saw him up close. On one of those rare, forced trips. In some cramped gali, you turned a corner and his eyes hit yours the exact millisecond you stepped into view.

​Coincidence. It had to be. Lyari’s a small world, and you’d simply happened to be in the same place at the same time. That heavy, breathless stillness you swore you felt from him wasn't actually directed attention; it was just a man pausing between one thing and the next.

​You’d invented the rest of it. You were always terrifyingly good at doing that to yourself.

Then Wednesday morning came, and the illusion shattered.

​You cleared the college gates, the heavy strap of your bag digging into your shoulder, your earphone wires tangled. You were already desperately calculating how fast you could bolt straight to your room to hide when you looked up. Arif was right where he always was, the car engine idling in the chaos, waiting for you.

​But across the street, there he was.

​Leaning against a black jeep. He had a glass of chai balanced casually between his hands, watching the main gates with a heavy, unbothered patience. He didn't look like a man killing time; he looked like a man who owned the pavement, completely fine with waiting there forever.

​Your sandals scuffed against the gravel, your entire body locking up before your brain could even register the panic. The exact second you froze, his eyes cut through the crowd and locked straight onto yours. No hesitation. No searching. Just that same suffocating, unblinking stare from the rally that made you feel completely exposed.

​Yalina isn't even with me today, a stupid, frantic thought fired off in your head, like that was the detail that didn't add up. Like his presence would somehow make sense if your sister was standing there. It was pathetic, how fast your mind scrambled for an excuse, any excuse, to avoid the terrifying reality staring you in the face.

​You ripped the car door open, practically throwing yourself into the backseat.

​"Chaliye. Abhi."

​You kept your eyes glued straight ahead, staring at the back of the driver's seat, praying he couldn't see the way your hands were shaking through the fabric of your dupatta.

Thursday he wasn't there. You spent the entire ride with your face practically pressed against the window, scanning the crowds until your eyes ached, and you absolutely loathed yourself for it. You hated how desperate you were to see him, just to know where the threat was.

​Friday, he was back.

​He’d shifted further down the road, his jeep parked at a different angle, but your body knew the second you stepped outside. That heavy, suffocating dread settled right over your chest before you’d even fully cleared the gate. Your eyes didn't even bother asking your brain for permission anymore; they just scanned the street and locked onto him instantly. It was like some twisted, automatic reflex you couldn't switch off.

​He had a glass of chai again. The exact second your eyes met, he gave the glass a tiny, agonizingly slow tilt in your direction. A silent salute.

​Your stomach dropped. You snapped your face away, the blood rushing to your ears as you leaned forward toward the front seat.

​"Arif bhai, lambay raastay se chaliye."

Your bedroom veranda was your sanctuary—high enough to escape the chaos, low enough to hear the city hum. You’d sit out there when the Karachi heat broke, writing in your journal as the sky turned that dusty gold that made even Lyari look peaceful. It was the one place you never felt the need to shrink. Nobody was looking up. Nobody cared.

You found out how wrong you were on Tuesday.

You’d stayed home from college, nursing a blinding headache born from the sheer, exhausting paranoia of the past week. By evening, the pain had dullled enough for you to crawl outside for air. You sat with your journal open, letting the familiar scrape of your pen soothe you. You actually felt safe.

Then, the skin on your neck went ice-cold—a raw, defensive reflex. You looked up, and the breath died in your throat.

He was right there. Across the narrow street, leaning against that black jeep with a smoldering cigarette between his fingers. He wasn't trying to be subtle. His eyes were locked onto your veranda, a heavy, unblinking focus that stripped you bare. He just stood in the fading light, watching you with a quiet, terrifying calculation. Like a man looking at something he already owned.

Your fingers locked around your pen.

You slammed the journal shut, scrambled to your feet, and bolted inside, slamming the doors and throwing the latch. You stood heaving in the dark of your bedroom, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Behind you, the veranda sat empty in the dying light, while across the street, a cigarette slowly burned down to ash.

You stopped going out on the veranda.

​You tried messing with your timing to throw him off—leaving for college at dawn some days, slipping out hours early on others. It solved nothing. No matter what random hour you cleared the gates, Hamza was already there, waiting. He anticipated every shift before you even made it.

​You kept quiet. Who could you even tell? A man keeps showing up out of nowhere. He’d never spoken or stepped toward you. He just drank chai by your college, smoked across from your bedroom, and watched you with eyes that had already made some decision about you weeks ago without asking.

You stopped sleeping.

​Yalina noticed the dark circles—not the real reason, of course—and decided a Saturday afternoon at Dolmen Mall was the cure.

​"Aapi," she said, leaning into your doorway, "aap ghar mein band rehti hain, pagal ho jaengi. Bas ek ghanta. Promise."

​"Yalina...."

​"Aapi please. Mere saath chalein nah. Akele nahi jaana mujhe."

​You went because fighting her took more energy than you had left.

Dolmen was a wall of bright fluorescent lights, noise, and crowding bodies. You kept your head down, trailing behind Yalina through three shops in forty minutes, silently counting down the seconds. Then she vanished into a fitting room with a massive pile of clothes and a breezy, "Bas do minute, aapi." You knew better. It was going to take forever.

​You waited outside, shifting on your feet, glancing from your phone to the racks. Right by the entrance was a display of loud, neon printed t-shirts. You glanced at it idly.

It wasn't a coincidence. It was a plan. He knew exactly where to find you.

​Hamza was standing right there, arms crossed in his dark shalwar kameez, inspecting a geometric print. He looked entirely out of place under the fluorescent lights, yet he completely commanded the space.

Hamza hadn't turned toward you yet.

​Run. The panic was instant. Get Yalina, find another exit, move. You took a blind step backward, your sandal catching the leg of a display stand, losing your balance—

​And crashed straight into a solid chest.

​He spun instantly. A heavy hand locked around your upper arm, steadying you before you could hit the floor. His grip was firm, warm through your sleeve, and completely unyielding. Up close, the sheer mass of him blocked out the entire store, but it was his face that made the world go entirely silent.

​His eyes.

​They weren't dark or unreadable like you’d imagined from your bedroom window. They were green. A sharp, deep,hazel green that completely threw your mind offline.

​"Aap theek hain nah?"

​His voice was low, raspy and vibrating with an absolute, terrifying focus. He wasn’t looking at the store, the guard, or the clothes. Just you. He didn't look surprised to see you here. Not even a little.

​You managed a single, stiff nod.

​He didn't let go. He just stared down at you, something dark and unnameable shifting in those green eyes, before his fingers finally loosened their hold.

​The second you were free, you turned and shoved your way straight through the fitting room curtain, grabbing Yalina's arm.

​"Abhi. Chalna hai."

The sheer panic in your voice cut right through her mood. She didn't argue. She just dropped the clothes, looking at your pale face with sudden alarm.

​"Aapi...."

​"Baad mein," you choked out, pulling her along. "Chalo."

​You didn't look back once.

He watched her leave.

The rigid line of her shoulders. The white-knuckled grip on her sister’s arm. She wasn't running, just forcing herself forward through sheer will, which was worse. She was terrified, but locking it down. He wondered who the hell had taught her to hide it so well.

When she’d looked straight at him, something had fractured across her face before she shut it out.

A cold, restless annoyance settled in his chest. Hamza was used to people falling into line, yet here she was, actively slipping through his fingers the second he got within arm's reach.

"Ghar chalte hain," Hamza said quietly.

He needed a reason. A real, unquestionable excuse to get inside that haveli. As soon as possible.

Taglist — If anyone wants to be tagged, let me know — @rutvii @khoonaurkhanjar @severusthings @crimsontraditiongolem @pleasetagmejaaneman @anxiousbeeing @rosiasthings @indigo-pdf @larajeancovey1000 @neelom @avasif @harrystyleskiwi9 @batata04 @sinnoire @theuselessdaydreamingidiot @chocolate-and-trouble @falakrazzaq @moonylovesbiscuits @goldenharrysworld @rhopalocera23 @sanpiece @noor-archive @benbarnesprettygurl @precioussophia @gulaabjamun08

[filmy-totoro]

❀Chai Se Pehle❀ — {uzair baloch x reader} — (Oneshot)🔞

Summary- Showering alone is apparently a punishable offense. The punishment being: getting dragged into the shower again.

Akele nahana band karo. You have been warned. warning: mdni

The room of the Baloch haveli was bathed in soft morning light. Uzair was already awake, sitting against the headboard with one arm tucked behind his head, watching the bathroom door.

Then you walked out.

Your wet hair lay over one shoulder as you scrubbed at it with a towel. You were humming under your breath, lost in your own world. Uzair didn't say a word, just watched. The red salwar suit caught the morning light. Your bangles clinked, red and gold, soft against the quiet room. The silver anklets, the ones he'd given you right after the wedding, chimed with every step.

He let his eyes follow the sway of your waist as you crossed to the dressing table. You picked up your brush, glanced up, and caught his reflection in the mirror. You froze. Heat climbed up your neck. You knew that look. It wasn't a morning look.

Uzair sat up, dragging a hand through his messy hair. "Yeh toh zyaadti hai," he grumbled, voice thick with sleep. "Mujhe bataye baghair akele akele naha bhi liya?"

Your hands stilled on the brush. You turned away, grabbing the edge of his kurta off the chair, twisting the fabric.

"Uz-Uzair... aap bhi nah!" You couldn't look at him. "Aap jaiye fresh ho jaayein. Main aapke liye chai leke aati hoon."

He chuckled and swung his legs out of bed, standing to his full height. He crossed the room and leaned down until his face was an inch from yours.

"Chai?" His voice dropped into a rough morning rasp. "Chai sei mera dill kahaan bharega, jaan. Mujhe toh tumhe khana hai."

You gasped. "Dhaattt!" You swatted his bare chest with the towel and bolted. Your anklets chimed frantically down the corridor, his laughter chasing you all the way to the kitchen.

Ten minutes later, the rich scent of cardamom filled the air. You carried the steaming cup back into the bedroom, where the bathroom door was now cracked open, thick clouds of steam rolling out into the cooler room.

​As you approached, the door opened a fraction wider. Uzair’s bare, wet arm stretched out through the gap.

​"Jaan, zara towel dena. Andar bhool gaya."

​You set the hot cup down on the side table, grabbed a fresh towel from the closet, and held it out while keeping your eyes firmly on the floorboards. "Yeh liji...."

Wet fingers clamped hard around your wrist. You didn't even have time to gasp before he yanked you forward. Your bare feet completely lost traction on the slick, wet tile and you stumbled blindly right into the suffocating heat of the bathroom. The door clicked shut behind your back.

​Your shoulder blades hit the wall with a dull thud. The stray overspray from the showerhead instantly soaked through the thin cotton of your salwar, making it stick awkwardly to your skin. Uzair blocked you in completely, his massive frame trapping you against the wet tiles. It was so foggy it was actually hard to breathe, and you had to blink rapidly against the stray drops of water dripping from his wet hair right into your eyes, stinging them slightly.

​"Uzair, suno!" you squeaked, shoving the now-damp towel against his chest like a useless shield. "Yeh kya badmaashi hai? Meri chai thandi ho rahi hai!"

​He didn't care. He leaned down, his mouth finding the sensitive skin right under your jaw, his damp hair brushing against your cheek. His hand slid down to your waist, bunching up the wet fabric of your suit to pull you flush against his bare, hard length.

​"Chai toh baad mein bhi garam ho jayegi," he muttered against your skin, his thumb digging into your hip. "Pehle mujhe meri biwi chahiye."

​"Aap... aap bohot besharam ho gaye hain." Your hands shook against his chest.

​He let out a low laugh, tangling his fingers in your hair to tilt your face up. A drop of water fell off his nose and landed on your lip.

​"Abhi besharmi dekhi kahan hai tumne?" he murmured, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "Abhi toh bohot kuch dekhna baaki hai, jaan. Aadat daal lo ab."

​His mouth crashed down on yours in a demanding kiss. You whimpered into his mouth, your grip loosening until the towel slipped from your fingers, landing on the flooded floor. Your arms wound tightly around his neck instead.

Your bangles struck sharp against his shoulders every time you moved.

​He grabbed the hem of your wet kameez, tugging it upward. Because it was soaked, the fabric caught awkwardly on your elbows and chin for a frantic second before he wrenched it over your head and dropped it into the puddle below. His calloused hands were slick with sandalwood soap as they found your bare skin, heavy and rough against your breasts. You gasped, your heel slipping on a soapy patch of tile as he bit down on your collarbone, leaving a sharp sting that would definitely turn into a dark mark by afternoon.

​He fumbled briefly with the wet drawstring of your salwar, shoving the water-logged pants down past your knees until you kicked out of them entirely. When he lifted you, your thighs scrambled for purchase around his waist, your wet skin sticking to his hips. He didn't wait to make it elegant. He pinned you back against the wall, caught your mouth in another rough kiss, and drove inside you in one unvarnished push.

His forehead dropped against yours, his jaw locked so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. Then he started to move. It wasn't clean; it was just rough and hard. The rhythmic, wet slap of skin against skin echoed loudly over the roar of the running shower. You had to tilt your head back to breathe, coughing slightly as a stray stream of water hit your face, your hands gripping his wet shoulders for dear life while your silver anklets clattered frantically against his lower back.

​He kept a vice-like grip on your hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave distinct handprints later. The tension wound so tight it felt like a wire snapping. Your back arched off the wall, your voice crying his name into the thick, humid air as the orgasm hit you.

​That completely broke whatever control he had left. With a couple of rough, desperate surges, he groaned into the crook of your neck, his entire body going rigid as he came deep inside you.

The shower just kept running, the water pooling around your discarded, soaked clothes on the floor. The only sound left was the frantic, messy sound of both of your chests heaving for air.

​Uzair didn't let you down right away; he just kept his arms locked around you, burying his face in your wet shoulder while his heartbeat gradually slowed down against your ribs. Finally, he kissed your damp cheek, a lazy, thoroughly satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

​"Ab batao," he murmured against your ear. "Chai peeni hai, ya yahin rehna hai?"

Taglist:— If anyone wants to be tagged, let me know— @khoonaurkhanjar @bway43 @pleasetagmejaaneman @peonies7002 @itsnotmai @gulaabjamun08 @mainyahaankyunhoon @obsessedwidskincare @torumii @chai-ke-sath-parleg @idonthavechatpateusernamed @anxiousbeeing @rutvii @adityami @abolitionistlawpluscoffee @m3hr33n33 @crimsontraditiongolem

[filmy-totoro]

dude you’re doing anything but posting next part of fitoor just cancel atp

life got busy. the next part will drop when it's ready. thanks for keeping it on your radar

[oyeevarnika]

what's wrong babe you've barely touched your potential even though all your elementary teachers really liked you and said you were gifted and that you were going to do great things

[itsnotmaia]

zabt

pairing: hamza ali mazari x uzair’s sister!reader

disclaimer: this is completely fictional, not in line with real-life events/movies or romanticise the real individuals, ooc depictions, one shot, none spy au.

cw: you’ve wanted ur brothers best friend for years and decide to push him over his limits and make him lose that control at last. age gap, brat reader, mocking of status, dub con, praise/degrading, fingering, denial oral—M/F, belly bulge, smut.

a/n: finally finished this only 5 more wips to complete kms & posting this earlier for my bbg @rutvii 🎀, meri jaan @zoyslair ily my fav & ofc 🌸 can u tell what i was craving whilst writing this? xx

۶۟ৎ

you were eighteen when you saw him for the first time. you could still remember the chaotic feelings swirling in your mind and the cold flutters erupting in your lower stomach. it was the first time you had to resist the urge to pounce on a man and tell him to fuck you. his blunt and condescending shield should’ve helped soothe these aching desires over the years. it did nothing.

you had never planned to have sex out of wedlock but how could you say no to a man called hamza ali mazari. he was practically adopted by your family after his brother passed and he began working for your abbu’s gang. to others your abbu was feared, a name known across pakistan, perhaps even other countries due to the severity of his known brutal side. however, to you he became your abbu, though biologically he was technically your cousin.

you saw glimpses of the close bond your bhai, uzair and hamza had forming. you knew it was created by the similar experiences of what an orphan held to themselves, but also the immediate connection between your family and him. the debt owed to hamza for saving you, naieem and faisal could never be repaid with money as hamza was not a common man who could be bought with money. he had earned the respect and love given by your parents. they were both older than you uzair being seven years and hamza ten years, the differences in maturity and experiences in life would always seep through in subtler ways. the way hamza spoke less, smarter and more collected. uzair on the other hand trusted easily, one could argue blindly.

now, three years past of stolen glances and countless orgasms to the image of hamza fucking you had gone by. you stopped caring after realising the dinners and alliance talk didn’t bother you half as much as they used to if he was going to be there. even caring which dresses you were going to wear wondering which colours he liked more on you. one day him and uzair were mentioning the colour maroon and coincidentally you wore maroon for the first time a couple days later. that makes it very subtle, right? his green eyes were staring at you for longer that day, watching your every move from a distance he was required to keep. you could swear your legs pricked again just now from the memory, they had been aching from clenching them that long. that night you thought he might have broken his intense discipline and discarded the consequences, but no. the blessed time you had seen him following that had been slightly more cruel.

you were also sure that he was the one who had been yearly on your birthday buying you beautiful jhumkas conveniently happening since the year your paths gratefully aligned and were always left on your vanity. who else would do that? no other could’ve sneaked past the immensely, tight security wrapped around your haveli. anyway, when you had tried to thank him the first time he had gotten even ruder as if you had placed it there yourself making you question if this man was sane. you attempted to suppress the romantic feelings that were developing after that numbing them down to his ignorance. hamza was simultaneously struggling to comprehend the feelings he was developing for you and ignored them by irritating you to get your attention. he was harsh at times particularly in moments he was close to losing his restraint and succumbing to what you both desired.

hamza was never the kindest to you, you never knew the exact reason why, he would never explicitly tell you the amount of control it takes within him to resist shutting your loud mouth the way he desperately wants to. lately he seemed to be holding himself back but you wanted to find out what from. he would always be teasing and making subtle remarks when no elders were paying attention making you certain they were aimed at you. almost as if he knew exactly what you really thought of him hidden underneath the attitude you would respond with. sometimes you could swear the air between you both was always thick and heavy with sexual tension and unspoken promises. the way his eyes would linger and take you in making you feel like his stare was undressing you as the seconds would pass.

you also had a cover to protect these traitorous feelings for this beast of a man who had only shown you his irritating, patronising side. your bratty, witty personality was a true blanket but it could only be fuelled by him, becoming more lively with hamza nearby. you had grown tired of years of patience, watching him play the good two shoes, whilst giving you the cold shoulder. and for what reason? you had tried to welcome him when he arrived but he had brushed the kindness off. his emotionally constipated behaviour should’ve driven you away, it had resulted in the opposite. you preferred the challenge all along but now you wanted to make it a little more difficult.

the perfect opportunity was basically screaming your name when hamza was forced into staying the night. mentally thanking your annoying, lanky brother who clinged onto the very man, you could only wish to do the same. currently dressed up in a beautiful, black camisole which technically isn’t solely for him as they make a pretty and comfortable set of pjs which they just so conveniently happen to be effortlessly seductive, showing off your stunning figure whilst revealing your dewy skin that’s normally hidden from greedy eyes. tonight you wanted to completely snap that restraint that had eaten up his human wants.

۶۟ৎ

making your way to the kitchen for the classic excuse of a glass of water at 3AM. unbeknownst to you, hamza was already waiting, predicting his prey’s movements before your mind anticipated his arrival. your earlier antics of letting the burger bachha continue talking to you hadn’t gone unnoticed. especially the sneaky glances you slid his way with the look in your doe eyes that told him you knew what you were doing, and he had to stand on guard with his mouth mum, just watching. it was a good try but not enough and he couldn’t let you know how much of his trained restraint you were destroying.

blindly stepping into his trap, he gave you no time to collect yourself, “mujhe dekhte hue un aankhon se uske mazaq par muskura rahi? tumhe lagta hai tum mera sabr aazma rahi ho..yeh khel tumhare liye bohot bura khatam hoga, y/n.” his green eyes bored into yours as he spoke, narrowing your eyes slightly, this wasn’t how this was supposed to act out, you had just gotten down here. “tum khud ko bohat chalak samajhti ho na? ghar mein adhi nangi ghoom rahi ho yeh dekhne ke liye ke kab mera dimagh kharab hojayga.” you refused to back down disregarding his ice cold tone.

you bolded your posture, arms crossing against the thin cotton of your camisole. “shayad main hoon? toh kya?” you challenged, whilst your eyes dropped to his lips before flicking back to his green gaze. “tumhara kya khayal hai? kya tum khone lage ho hm?” his brows furrowed sternly as his calloused hands, hanging at his sides twitched wanting to reach out. he wanted to wrap his large fingers around your barely clothed waist, lift you onto that marble counter and show you what happens to little privileged girls who find it fun to walk into a lion’s den without a plan for the danger it possesses. despite this, he wouldn't let you win. he wouldn't give you the satisfaction of knowing that just yet. his control reaching out for the dab of restraint to keep you untouched and alive. if rehman bhai had an inkling of a doubt, the repercussions wouldn’t be a delightful sight for either parties. it was certainly clear that only one side had the sanity to think of the aftermath.

“bas itna tha?” he asked rather flatly. he knew he was catching you entirely off guard with the confusion evident in your eyes that you were miserably failing to hide. “kya laga tha tumhein? chhote kapde mujhe hila lo ge? maine aisi larkiyon dekhi hain jo tameez se khud ko carry karna jaanti hain. tum ek bachhi ki tarah lagti ho jo apni kameez pehnna bhool gayi.” you felt the rush of burning hot blood travel to your flustered cheeks.

the heat of pure humiliation and rage at his mean words had your lips part in shock and horror. your mind was racing with insignificant thoughts, none had prepared you for this reaction. “tumhara baap mujhe kisi badtameez bachhi ki dekhbhal karne ke paise nahi dete.” your soft hands clenching into tight fists from the audacity of him to look his nose down at you and treat you like a mere insignificant insect and utter these retorts made you silently promise to make this stupid orphan’s life a living hell from this day onwards.

“you are a disgusting. arrogant. pig!” you said through gritted teeth. “tum khud ko samajhte kya hamza? tum sirf ek besharam aur jahil aadmi ho!” your voice initially cracking slightly with the intensity of your mixed emotions, you paid no heed to that. on the other hand, his tired expression didn’t falter, “apna pani ka glass saaf karo, aur thore kapre pehn lo is se pehle ke tumhe thand lag jaye.” hamza replied far too calmly, which only infuriated you further but he turned his back on you without another word. leaving you to dwell in your frustration and embarrassment alone.

you were mentally cursing your brain for going blank when he was blabbing his bullshit that easily and seemingly unbothered at the whole thing. atleast you had a abbu figure in your life and anyway it’s your house you can wear whatever you want. though your idea hadn’t worked the way you wanted, you knew you would get him eventually. you were relentless and keen to get what you wanted like you’ve always had the grace of being used to. atleast you were right about him being a silly pig, his parents obviously agreed with you for gifting this fool the initials of what he is.

mean while, hamza walked towards the balcony as he took a deep drag of the stick of cheap tobacco. he exhaled the smoke which failed to get rid of the burning in his chest which had absolutely nothing to do with the cigarette. a child who forgot her shirt. it was one of the biggest lies he had ever told in his life. when you had stepped around that counter, your bare shoulders gleaming so close he could still feel his skin stinging from the radiating heat you had glistening off you. he had nearly cracked right there. if he had reached out, if he had touched your gentle skin, he knew he wouldn't have been able to stop. he would have broken every rule and vow he’s sworn to and every correct boundary he had no option other than to set for himself. if it wasn’t for those limits, he would have taken you right there in his leader’s haveli, stealing his beloved daughters innocence under the pretence of his friendship with your elder bhai.

you were dismantling his air tight defence piece by piece using nothing but your attitude and your naturally sweet, vanilla scented skin. he had known you were going to be a pretty problem when he was first invited into rehman bhai’s gang but now he has to double his guard further, because if you kept boldly testing his limits like this by pushing your way into his space with those tiny, provocative steps…hamza closed his eyes attempting to shut out the thought he couldn’t bare to finish. however, the image of your rosy pink lips and delicate curves had already started to burn away at his withering discipline.

۶۟ৎ

in the weeks that followed that bitter night in your kitchen, you stuck to your vow on making his life a mimic of agony. your natural bicker with him had turn into mainly boring silence, no lingering touches, refusing to give him even a fleeting unnecessary glance during dawats or when he stood guard beside your abbu. when you absolutely couldn't avoid him, all credits towards your clingy bhai, you utilised your status as a petty weapon. you snapped at him to address you as ‘aap’ instead of ‘tum’. a icy reminder of his place and how you had the power over him if you wanted to. he couldn’t compete with blood, if you ever mentioned a hint of hamza looking at you in the wrong way his body parts would be dumped into a ugly swamp. if it came to it, you had that option.

you couldn’t help but begin to drop subtle, venomous remarks whenever your paths crossed in passing, loudly making observations about how some men proudly embrace having zero haya. you’d comment about how they hide their own disgusting lack of control by passing judgment on women, a direct dig at his hypocritical lecture about your clothes when he has half his chest on display, not that you were complaining.

it was working beautifully, watching him get even more emotionally constipated, right up until your bhai had enough of hearing your condescending mumblings and called you out for your sour attitude. you quickly played it off with a dramatic sigh, rolling your eyes and claiming you were just depressed because surbuland isn’t real and fictional men have utterly ruined your life. bhondu one had bought it, but as you had glanced past his shoulder for the other, you caught the knowing glint in hamza’s eyes. he knew exactly who those insults were meant for which had you temporarily satisfied.

۶۟ৎ

the house was basically empty apart from you, your bhai, faisal, naieem and hamza who was staying over playing on the ps with them. your parents on a private trip to celebrate their wedding anniversary. a craving gave you the signal to bother your favourite worker, blaming it on the time for making your attitude leak into your texts.

you waited another whole fifteen minutes for this man to bring you your amrood until realising he wasn’t going to give in on that. atleast he had listened and cut it. he really was a good boy, despite leaving you on read. stepping out of your room, you barely made it a few steps when hamza stepped out looking as disgruntled as ever, but his hands remained empty. no amrood. “tumhein bara shoq haina, dekhne ka ke kya hota hai?” he asked, as you watched his green eyes morph to a almost black shade staring into your soul with a suffocating intensity. “tum mujhe itna uksana chahti ho ke main bhool jaun ke tum kis ki beti ho y/n?” huffing in response and rolling your eyes “hato saamne se, mera mood nahi hai tumse baat karne ka is waqt.” he had his phone lit open with your texts displayed, “dobara bolo” hamza commanded, blanking your reply. “apne in haseen honton se, mere moonh par bolo.. kya likha hai yahan?” crossing your arms over the thin lace failing to cover your cleavage, only accentuating your curves whilst you tried to pretend you weren’t caught off guard from his immediate confrontation.

“kyun?” you scoffed, your mind racing frantically to gather yourself, “waise bhi mera kasoor hai, mujhe pata hona chahiye tha ke tum padh nahi sakte.” you shook your head solemnly but your voice was laced with venomous attitude pretending to remember what you had messaged him earlier, “haan..voh, maine kaha tum ek niqab pehan kar ghoomte ho. sharafat ka naatak karte ho. par jab asli malkin hukum deti hai, toh tumhari saari tameez hawa ho jaati hai.” his handsome face contorted in one warning you that you had pushed too far and had finally snapped the thread you had been yanking for years. “asli malkin?” he taunted with malice as he tucked his into his pocket. “tumhe lagta hai tumhara yeh khoon, yeh naam, tumhe meri malkin banata hai? chhoti bachhi ho tum. aur tumhara dimaag bohot kharab ho gaya hai.”

“hamza, apni hadd mein raho—” he didn’t allow you to finish, he had gave you plenty of time and chances to retreat your bratty behaviour but you weren’t backing down, leaving him no choice other than to do it himself. hamza closed the gap between you. your vision flipped upside down as he hoisted you over his shoulder with a gasp, “chhodo mujhe! hamza, main cheekh padungi!” you hissed, your attitude flaring up into a furious panic as you slammed your fists uselessly against his broad, muscular back. “abbu tumhe zinda dafan kar denge! drop me right now!” not caring that he wasn’t even here and the boys were too busy playing with headsets blasting music not able to hear a sound from your room.

“cheekho,” he mocked, his calloused hand coming down with a harsh smack right against the short fabric covering your ass. the sharp, stinging heat of the spank shocked you into instant silence, a gasp catching in your throat. “cheekho fir taake tumhare bhai neeche aayein, aur main unhe dikhaoon ke unki malkin raat ke is waqt mere sath kya khel khel rahi hai.” he was unbothered by your struggling body as he carried on walking calmly making you even more irritated at him for still having control over his emotions. “mera sabr aazma rahi thi na, hafte se?” his deep voice vibrating right against your thighs as he carried you up. “roz naye kapde pehan kar mere saamne se guzarna. meri haya par lectures dena. aaj tumhara saara ghoor aur saari badtameezi yahin khatam hogi.” you clutched the back of his kurta, slightly flustered with a mixture of intense humiliation and a traitorous rush of arousal pooling at your thighs. kicking your bedroom door open with a dull thud, using his heel to slam the door shut behind him, the loud click echoing in the dim room sealing you both away from any right senses. no one would hear your screams in your private floor you had demanded when you were younger. you truly were spoilt and gifted with everything you wanted.

hamza dumped you onto the mattress as you scrambled backward against the headboard. the thin straps of your black camisole had slipped down your shoulders, leaving your skin exposed to the cool air of the room and to his predatory gaze. hamza stood at the edge of your bed, towering over you, cracking his neck as he looked down at you with a grin that held no warmth. “tantrum throw kar rahi thi na?” he whispered “ab main tumhein dikhata hoon ke is ‘achha bachha’ ko jab gussa aata hai..toh woh apni malkin ko kaise aukaat dikhata hai. agli baar aisi baat kehne se pehle, tumhara dimaag khud tumhein rok dega” the mattress creaked by dipping massively under his weight as he crawled over you.

his muscular frame blocking out most of the light that was left in the room. “tum yeh pasand karti ho na?” he mumbles, both of you forgetting or rather, ignoring the previous the distance you believed would keep you safe and him sane. but safety was never part of this equation anymore though he’d tear the country apart for you though he’d never admit it until it’s safe. your gold churiyan tinkle against your wrists as you shift, each breath making you aware of how small you are beneath hamza’s toned caramel frame. “chup kahan ho gayi ho?” you don’t dare answer anymore, not wanting to dig a bigger hole for yourself. as he presses closer, the curve of his chest filling your view. your eyelids flutter as his shadow falls over you, pent up need rushing the veins of the pair of you.

the flutters in your stomach begging you to lunge at him and claim what’s yours. but the egoistic side still irritated at him for taking so long and brushing you off, remained firm in stubbornness. “look at you,” he purred, as his green gaze dragged slowly down to the thin cotton measly clinging to your skin. “saari malkiat hawa mein ud gayi? where is that attitude now, hm?” you lifted your chin, trying desperately to hold onto the facade that had protected you for weeks. you were ready to lie and pretend as if you hadn’t imagined this entire scenario a million times over already, “bahar jao, hamza. tumhari himmat kaise hui mujhe aise hath lagane ki—” one of his hand snapped up, his large fingers wrapping securely around both of your wrists. with ease, he pinned them flat above your head, rendering you helpless beneath him. “roko mujhe. go on, push my hands away. tum toh badshah ki beti ho na? try to fight me. let me see how much strength you actually have when I’m pinning you down like this.” you let out a breathless gasp, your chest heaving against the restriction, your thighs instinctively squeezing together as another wave of arousal escaped you.

hamza noticed instantly sensing your desperate hunger for him as he leaned down until his lips were brushing the sensitive skin of your jawline, painfully teasing you further. “tumhe kya laga tha? ke main andha hoon?” his tone practically ushering you to lie again, as his free hand slid down your stomach, his palm seeping through and burning your skin under his touch. “teen saal se dekh raha hoon main. those stolen glances. looking at me during dinners, wondering what it would feel like to have me ruin you. upar se itna nakhra, aur andar se.. your just my little begging mess na? even your body knows and i’ve barely touched you” “main nahi—” you tried interrupting to silence him calling you out, “chup” he muttered, his hand sliding even lower, past your waist, until his long fingers pressed directly between your thighs, pulling your lace underwear to the side to give him the access he needed. you couldn't suppress the meek noise that escaped your lips as he rubbed his thumb firmly against your clit before pinching it to hear you hiss from a mix of sensitivity and pain. his lips traveled downwards as your body told on you showing him the evident proof of how you were already soaked, drenched through from the tension and his presence alone.

you felt hamza’s smirk grow against your neck, his fingers slicking through you wet cunt making you shudder from his punishingly slow touch. he was being careful to not fill you with them yet. “uff..this wet. mere sirf kamre mein aane se tumhara yeh haal ho gaya? but according to you, you're the owner..toh apni is halat par control kyun nahi karti?” “tum ignore bhi toh kar sakte the,” you challenged, your voice turning into a brief whisper for a moment. “main yahan tumhein leash par dalne wapas aaya hoon.” snarling at him to cover the fact that his touch was consuming the side of you that wanted to put him in his place for pushing you away last time and for his audacity. “jab hamare beech distance hota hai tab tum bohot bold banti ho” he hummed as he felt your body tremble beneath his weight in approval. “lekin abhi tum kaamp rahi ho, jaan. tum choti ho. naazuk ho. aisi lag rahi ho jaise abhi ro dogi kyunki aakhir kaar is right hand ne tumhein utha hi liya.” “main rone nahi wali” you hissed, “aur main tum se nahi darti, hamza.” his coarse beard brushed against your pink cheek as he leaned in, his cool breath fanning your ear, “is that so..?” your body began to betray you more unable to pretend as furiously as you had been by completely melting under his touch giving in to your desires.

“tumhein meri attention chahiye thi, y/n?” your usual defiance evaporating into the thick air of the bedroom, your fingers clutching the rosy sheets beneath you as your breath shook under his gaze.“main toh bas..main toh bas tease kar rahi thi” “tum mere jaise mard ko tease nahi karti..tum ek hafte se mere space mein ghusne ki koshish kar rahi ho. ye chote kapde pehenna. bohot zyada bolna. apne jhumka shake karna. tum dekhna chahti thi meri breaking point kahan hai?” his green eyes locked onto your glossy lips with a smug look he didn’t bother hiding. “tumne dhoond li” he whispered. “ab dekhte hain tum is sab ko handle kar bhi sakti ho ya nahi, jaan.”

you muster a “fuck you,” trying to defy him between shallow breaths but it slips out as more of a copy of a shayari recitation than rebellion. he beckons you with a crooked finger to inch closer as his lips graze your neck, planting delicate kisses. despite the contrast between his status, strength, age and your fragility sends a strong thrill through you. his other rough hand trailing down your body memorising how you feel, whilst your taste and sounds for him would come soon. his other free hand remained tracing your cunt, letting you buckle your hips for more, unable to wait patiently for him.“tumhein paane ki meri is khwahish mein..kuch bhi paak ya muqaddas nahi hai jaan.” he breathes, the promise dancing along your sensitive skin. you paid no attention to his warning, distracted by him in every human way possible.

۶۟ৎ

settling between your legs, draping them over his shoulders leaving a tiny amount of space between your cunt and his lips. it took everything in you to not buckle your hips, but with the force he held your waist down you probably couldn’t. he didn’t even bother taking off the short cloth, pulling it to a side as he hovers for a second first, his cool breath fanning along before brushing his tongue along your inviting entrance once, from your clit to catching the dripping arousal on his tongue. it was barely a touch yet you gasp eagerly, earning a menacing sound from him. “bas? itna hi sabr tha tumhara? one little touch and you are already falling apart in my hands. you are so beautifully weak for me, malika.” neither of you had any shame left, he was relishing in how easily he was going to fuck you stupid as he told you how aware he is of everything, knowing exactly how pathetic you are for him. then he dives in, devouring you as if starved which he was.

he began to bite gently so that every bruise left behind matches the history you share and the patience you both have had to unwillingly torment. he has already marked your heart for him, he had waited long enough for your insides to be the same. you choked on a moan as he pressed one of his thick fingers into you. they were so much bigger than your own, you couldn’t wait to feel the entire stretch of him when he would bless you with his cock. his beard tickled against your smooth skin whilst the pressure of his mouth and tongue on your sensitive clit increased, his tongue drawing maddening circles against your cunt as he finger fucked you closer to your orgasm. until he came to a brutal stop, ripping his fingers out of your dripping cunt, hearing the squelching sounds come to an abrupt halt as he left you empty and on that irritating edge away from your release. you could only let out a broken please. he didn’t need to use words to tell you again that he wasn’t going to be easy and you knew he was going to make you earn it.

۶۟ৎ

you probably should’ve felt more shame for being in your abbu’s roof on your knees whilst your bhai’s are innocently minding their business as you falsely glare at hamza with his trousers pooled at his ankles as he takes them off along with his kurta. his muscular chest looming over you, his radiating heat and oud scent enveloping you. every piece of your gold jewelry like those churiyan sliding down your wrists, the payal that jingles when you shift reminds you how small you are beside his massive frame. “kya hua? zuban kahan gayi?” he teases whilst gripping a strand of your dark hair and guiding your chin so your lips part. “ziddi toh tum hamesha se thi, lekin tameez tum seekh hi jaogi..aaj nahi toh kal. chalo, shuruat isse karte hain” you catch the sharp sarcasm ringing throughout his tone resulting in your cunt fluttering traitorously in anticipation and greed.

he lines the head of his cock against your lips. “open up for me” he states which you oblige easily, tasting yourself on him before he pushes in. you gag, the tears pricking at your eyes stinging you but not more than the ego you tucked away. listening to hamza sigh with a mix of bliss and satisfaction. his fingers ghost through your hair tenderly, guiding your face until your lips give in and part. the tip of his huge cock, thicker than you ever imagined and dreamt of now resting against your bottom lip. the whole thing felt surreal, the guilt for wanting this for an embarrassingly long time whilst the other wanting to resist and make him grovel for you as you deserve. but with him nearly stuffing every single inch in your mouth it’s impossible. feeling his hovering veins pulsing made you swallow any ideas of anything but taking him like he wants you to. gagging around his massive length. warm tears full of surma treacle down your face, colliding with the pink flush stained on your cheeks. “use that tongue you were biting me with earlier jaan” he cooes as you obey, silently telling yourself you have no choice, but you both know the truth, neither of you could hide from the reality and the frantic signs of your cunt pleading him to tend to your urges. pushing them away, you brushed your tongue along his tan skin as he sighs, pressing into you further, slowly. the weight of his need grounding you, hushing your small trembles, the salty hot taste numbing your taste buds.

as hamza starts to pump himself into your agape mouth, his dark tip sliding in and out in lazy circles as an act of mercy, so you can catch your breath. your hands cling to his thighs, whilst your gold payal jingles against your clammy skin. his hand in your hair keeping you steady, protecting you from breaking in his hold. “bilkul waisi hi jaise maine socha tha,” his voice thick with desire, then without warning, he drives deeper, fucking your mouth roughly. you tap his thighs, begging in silence. you couldn’t if you tried, not when your throat is full of his shaft. hamza only holds you tighter savouring the melody he’s orchestrating. watching saliva drool and tears mingle as you choke, and the scents that normally soothe you feels suffocating. the desperate sounds stringing from your lips fuel his needs more. you heard him groan in pleasure as you continued to lap up his precum as it flowed out his cock.

he was starting to get frustrated by your rather slow pace as his hand already nestled into your tangled hair pushed you down, taking as much of him as you possibly could. “you’ve been driving me insane for three years, aur tumhein lagta hai tum bina kisi nuqsan ke nikal jaogi? no jaan. every single cold shoulder, every single look you gave me over dinner..you’re going to pay for all of it tonight.” you couldn’t reply with your mouth stuffed, you felt your cunt pulse weakly by every hard hit to the back of your mouth as he continued brutally throat fucking you. clenching your legs tighter obeying peacefully to earn your release you’ve been embarrassingly begging for.

you could feel his cock throbbing by how close he was, however his control kept him from releasing anymore of his precious liquids he’s going to have you cherish. he wasn’t done with you yet, he still was yet to feel your creamy walls wrapped around him. after another long moment of unyielding thrusts, he freezes, cock still pulsing deep in your mouth. your blush shaded cheeks now aching around him, you were sure the vibrant bruises decorating the back of your throat from the force of his thrusts were beginning to sting. hamza withdraws slowly, still rock hard as you pant trying to gain breaths of fresh air but even those have his addictive scent written on them. your head was spinning, trying to blink away the blurs of his outline and dots. hamza watched your vision go dizzy for an awfully long minute with that passionate concern masked by arrogance.

you lie back obediently, both of your chests heaving, taking in the stunning view of hamza infront of you with sweaty skin as his eyes darkened with triumph and something unspoken hidden within the green depths. “kapde utaaro,” he orders. brushing a thumb along your collarbone. the gold chain with your name in urdu, around your neck catching the light, shining as you tear away freeing yourself from your drenched camisole. each piece that falls reveals how exposed you are to him. revealing your innocence, you and the ones dear to you had failed to protect, stripping it all away just for him. every shiver of your skin as vulnerable as it was the first time he held you right after the pathan gang had attacked, he had been your saviour at that wedding. his touch had even then been possessive as if he knew it would only be a matter of time until he’d claim you.

kneeling between your legs, when his fingers finally press against your wet cunt again, this time with no cloth as barriers you gasp still so sensitive. he dips a finger inside, drawing out a moan that bounces in the room, clicking his tongue to beckon more pretty sounds. “good girl..so wet for me” he mumbles as he adds another finger, curling them inside of you as you arch beneath him. he tears them out of you again with no sympathy for your helpless state, he needed you to feel how hollow you are without him.

ignoring your pleads he uses a knee to part yours wider for him, purposely leaving his cock a mere inch away so you have no choice but to listen, “you love giving me orders, don't you? ‘aap’ kaho, hamza. wahan khare raho, hamza. let’s see if you can still keep that arrogant tone when i’m deep inside you.” with that he finally pushes into you, using just the tip, filling you until you tremble once again. a reminder of how weak he’s made you, then he pulls back, scanning your face. “so tight, bilkul ek shareef, masoom bachhi ki tarah. who would believe this is the same vicious girl who was snapping at me a few hours ago? so obedient right now, you were begging this lesson.” your eyes fluttering shut as he stretches you out, marking your insides as you had wished countless times. he was way too big, stretching you so wide around his girth that you had to dig your nails into his shoulders, a moan tumbling from your lips. he let out a few curses mingling with your frantic whines and the sounds of skin slapping. “look at how beautifully your body takes me, even when you’re trying so hard to hate me. do not look away. keep your eyes on me. haan aisi hi..good girl. let me see that look of defeat in your eyes.” hamza sucked against the soft skin of your breasts, then towards your neck before he managed to capture your lips in his own. swallowing any sounds you were making, muffling your sobs completely as his tongue clashed against yours tasting all the attitude you once had.

snatching his lips from yours, his hands gripped onto your hips harder, “cry a little louder for me. let uzair hear what his precious little sister sounds like when she’s being ruined by the gang’s orphan. batao mujhe..who owns you right now? say my name” he rasps, slipping deeper. the contrast between your fragility and his power sharpens every nerve ending. “hamza..” you whimpered out, he made sure each thrust started slowly, measured at first, then faster as it turns more relentless watching you keenly as he fucks your previous attitude out of you. he has always had the power, he was simply letting you think you had it when really it’s always been him the one in control. “kitni khubsoorat ho tum..bilkul ek malika. it’s a pity your gorgeous little mouth only opens to speak poison. lekin jab tum is tarah roti ho..when you moan my name like this? you look absolutely perfect jaan.” you were clinging to him like a koala, fingers digging into his broad back, decorating his flesh with bright red scratches as he brings you to the edge. hamza felt the knot in your stomach, his huge cock leaving violet bruises around your cervix. the tight coil pressing against his bulge in your tummy warning both of you of how close you are as his punishing, merciless pace, drags you down just as you’re about to shatter. he was making you beg without words.

his thrusts shift abruptly as he’s inside you, filling you completely. you feel every inch, the stretch, the full weight of him. “maza aa raha hai na? look how perfectly your body wraps around mine, even while your lips are sobbing out little protests. you can keep trying to hate me, yet you are squeezing me like you never want me to let go. kitni jhooti ho tum, y/n.” he watches process his words with those eyes, his hand pressing against your belly feeling how deep he reaches. you see how he moves inside and out as he pounds into you, admiring the way your made for him and how deep he reaches. no one else could mark you like this.

whatever tender care you had imagined he’d be capable of before was overcome with his need for you. “you belong to me,” he pants, hips slamming against yours. just as you feel yourself slipping away, he pulls back, nipping at your nipple until it hardens in his mouth. “not yet,” he teases, slipping the tip of his cock in and out slowly, brushing your clit. you beg in a quivering lightly, “i-i’m so close..please” “beg properly jaan,” he orders as a bead of sweat drops from his handsome face onto your breasts. you whimper, “please, hamza.. let me..please i’m sorry.” your thick hair in heart shapes across the pillow. “tell me jaan, who is your owner hm?” he torturously pauses as he asks you a question you both have always known the answer to, waiting patiently for you to take back all the retorts from your earlier antics.

“more hamza.. you. only you.” you manage to stumble out, watching his beautiful face inches away from you as he complies, thrusting with renewed fervor. and then at his permission, you shatter, crying out his name in release your pleasure comes in a rush, letting him feel your tremors clenching around his shaft pounding in you whilst your back arches off the bed, as you cry his name multiple times in a row, each one more pathetic than the other. you were surrendering yourself to him and the currents of overwhelming pleasure. every muscle in your body tensing as you shuddered through your release.

you felt the overstimulation physically fill your body, his harsh thrust making you more sensitive than ever, you started going dumber not speaking any coherent words. “oh fuck..” he grunts as he follows you seconds later, his gravelly voice lost in a low groan as he empties himself inside your velvety walls. you feel every row of cum burying itself then after multiple ropes turning into drops, every pulse erasing any self respect that you had knowing that you were utterly ruined for the days to come. the last slow thrusts of hamza fucking his cum, burying his warm semen into your own liquids had you whimper savouring the way he has ruined you for anyone else. he settled to your right pulling you on top of his heaving clammy chest, your hand nestling into his damp long hair as you hushed him by closing the distance yourself. his arms wrapped around your waist caressing you as you catch his lips in a kiss tasting his tongue carrying the taste of cigarette, mint and a faint trace of your own guilt. his thumb gently rubbed the pretty bruises scattered over your hips, as you let out a soft sigh into his mouth, his beard scratching the hickeys he had left earlier making you remember the whole reason he had come here. hamza deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours before you pulled back a few centimetres, “ab jaldi se mera amrood lao please..”

۶۟ৎ

master list.

tags;

@seasonofthenerd @rehmandakaitswife @legendmoonstone @cigstars7 @st4rmiist @kamalkafool @twinblueflamee @gulaabjamun08 @torumii @riddhi-on-break @debsreads21 @avasif @eypresho @precioussophia @lavenderwinkle @stressed-cherry @sinnoire @batata04 @itstiaofficial @anxiousbeeing @laal-pari @bway43 @filmy-totoro @pleasetagmejaaneman @chocolate-and-trouble @giantfirefly @willowsgoldenhour @dhoodhsoda @sahaar @harrystyleskiwi9 @batata04 @itstiaoffical

[willowsgoldenhour]

PAPER RINGS ★ UZAIR BALOCH

i like shiny things,

but i'd marry you with

paper rings, oh-oh

that's right

darling,

your the one i want

synopsis- based on paper rings by taylor swift, uzair baloch is utterly whipped for afsana jahan since the first time he saw her, he had kept his feelings to himself due to the fear of their decade long friendship but their dynamic is challenged when uzair presumes afsana is subtly hinting her feelings towards him, is he going to give it in or be trapped in the confusion.

pairing- gangster!uzairbaloch x ulfat!sister!oc

genre- SMAU, forbidden romance, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, found family, kissing, insecurity, angry love confession, cutu!uzair, mutual pining, will they won't they, jealousy.

warnings - none for this one

note - i cant prove uzair is written by taylor swift but this fic can

status - ongoing

series masterlist l main masterlist

— chats between hamza and uzair

—instagram post

liked by rehmambaloch, zainab_s, balochuzair and 7506 others

afsanajahan: gajra mohabbat wala 💌🏹

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ulfatbaloch: kitni pyaari lag rahi ho tum 🥹❤️

—afsanajahan: thank you aapi 😚

zainab_s: kajra diya kisne hai*smirks*

— afsanajahan: YE HAMARA GC NAHI HAI BTW.

—zainab_s: ye kaisa jawab hua? meyne pucha kajra diya kisne‼️‼️

— afsanajahan: tumhe mey dekhti hu baadmey 🙄

shaziaaa05: mohabbat ka kajra kiske naam par 😈

—afsanajahan: apne kaam se kaam rakhna toh tumlog ka aate hi nahi hai 😭

—shaziaaa05: nah pookie we love ragebaiting you

yalinajamali: ye sab karlo tum lekin jab baat karne ka waqt aata hai tabhi bolti bandh 🤣

— afsanajahan: dekho kol bol raha hai 😆

— yalinajamali: jyada mat bolo warna tag karungi usko 😡

—afsanajahan: friendly reminder, that i have the privilege to tag his bestf as well

balochuzair: gajra khoobsurat hai na?

—afsanajahan: bilkul 🫡

—texts between afsana, yalina, shazia, zainab

— chats between faizal and afsana

— at the baloch haveli, jumme ki raat

the haveli was glistening with fluroscent lights, carrying an effortless grace of familiarity. rehman and ulfat had hosted an intimate gathering for today's occasion.

usually, afsana would avoid the tradition dinners but this one was different. this one took place where her heart resides, at the very place where the story had began.

she had stepped in with yalina by her side but over the course of time, she had lost her. assuming her bestfriend was 'shooting the shot' so she let her be.

after a few formal greetings with people, uzair and afsana had managed to slip through the heavy pressure of the crowd into the presence of moonlight on the terrace.

both of them sat next to eachother, comfortable silence lingering between them.

"yaar, thank you for this" afsana says, raising the bowl of rasmalai, her favourite sweet dish that uzair had managed to sneak in with them between the chaos.

"and also thank you for getting me out of there'' she let out breath, her head dipping low.

"kitni ajeeb hu na mey...hamesha bolti phirti hu i am an extrovert, i am a people's person but the moment huge crowd kicks in i become overwhelmed" she confesses, lazily fidgeting with the spoon in her bowl.

"nahi, tum ajeeb nahi hu....you are an extroverted person, a people's person but only when you are comfortable in your skin, down there between those judgy aunties ke rishte and demanding cousins, tumahara uncomfortable hona jayaz hai"

in the contrast to uzair's rigid voice, this tone held softness that was only reserved for afsana and the kind of words reassured her.

she turned to look at him to already find him staring at her intently, her lips curled upwards in a smile.

"mere baarmey har chotti chotti cheez jante ho na tum?' she leaned forward, scrunching her nose.

uzair nodded, letting out a chuckle. "ha aur yaad bhi rakhni padti hai kyunki tum toh bhulakad ho na''

afsana let out a dramatic gasp, narrowing her eyebrows at his commotion. "tum sudharoge nahi na, mujhe chidhaneka theka le rakha—

she faked the offence in a sarcastic sense to be cut off by uzair.

"ek min afi, tumahre lips ke idhar cream lagi hai" he points at the small blotch of the yellow, spilled across her lips.

she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, her hands instinctively moving towards her mouth to wipe of the stain, she swept a hand across the said place.

"gaya?"

uzair titled his head, "arey nahi, left side pe hai"

he watched her struggle with wiping of the stain entirely, his hands impulsively moving towards her lips in a process to get rid of the blotch.

his rough fingers brushed her soft porcelain lips and for a moment, his hand rested there. while their eyes spoke a melody of unsaid words, lost in the rhythm of captivating gaze.

a knock on the door ruined their special moment. uzair quickly pulled his hands away while afsana cleared her throat.

in the heat of the moment, they had moved closer but now as the clearance stood in their path afsana shifted her weight in the opposite direction from him in pure awkwardness.

uzair noticed this shift, his eyebrows knitting together. there was a lump in his throat creating assumptions but before he could give it a thought a voice from other side erupted again—

"khaala kya aap andar hai? agar ha toh jaldi niche aajaye ammi bula rahi hai aur aate aate uzair chachu ko bhi saath laye"

both of them recognised the voice of faizal and the rushed footsteps vanishing away.

"hume janna padega" said afsana, setting the bowl aside. "aur kya tum meri photos le sakte ho? itni achi outfit pheni hai, it would be really disappointing if there are no photo in it''

he hid the disappointment in his eyes with a faint smile, "jaisa aap bole".

—instagram post

liked by zainab_s, yalinajamali, hamzaalimazari and others

afsanajahan: aur yeh chand kiska hai? 🌙

view all comments

balochuzair: photographer ke creds kidhar hai?

— afsanajahan: mera photographer @/balochuzair 🫵🫵🫵

— balochuzair: aapka?

— afsanajahan: ha toh agar mere photos khiche hai toh mere hi hue na..... photographer, kyu tumhe kya laga?

— balochuzair: wahi joh tum soch rahi ho

shaziaaaaa05: MERA HAIIII 😋

— afsanajahan: sirf aapka mam 🙂‍↕️

sher-e-baloch: i hope you had a great time ❤️

— afsanajahan: YES yes aap and @/ulfatbaloch the best host and hostess

— ulfatbaloch: the pleasure is all ours 🥰

thenaieembaloch: mera bina sab fun fun 💔

— afsanajahan: aisa kn hai we missed u sm ☹️

yalinajamali: photos when the photographer loves you>>>

comment deleted

zainab_s: chehra toh dekho nikhar raha hai

—yalinajamali: uski fav place pe gai thi na

—afsanajahan: what she said 👆

— instagram post

liked by mehroomkurta, zainabascamroll and 25 others

paperr.ringss: jumme ki raat ka dump ‼️

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prettylittleliar: yeh rasmalai kidhar se aayi??? deserts mey toh aisa kuch nahi tha 🤔🤔🤔

—paperr.ringss: uhhhhhh

—mehroonkurta: meyne laya

—kentrol.kijyee: yeh option tha bhi nahi bhai like mangwaya bhi nahi tha

—mehroonkurta: meyne separately laya tha uske liye, usse rabadi aur kheer nahi pasand

— prettylittleliar: haww toh terrace pe yeh sab chal raha tha

—> paperr.ringss: tera kya chalu tha balcony mey????

— kentrol.kijyee: hamare liye toh nahi laya kabhi

— mehroonkurta: tere liye kyu lau 🙄

— kentrol.kijyee: 😔😔

—prettylittlelair: koi baat nahi aap bura mat maane mey lekar aaungi aapke liye 🥰

—instagram post

liked by paperr.ringss, kentrol.kijyee and 9 others

mehroonkurta: in the room full of people id look for you

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paperr.ringss: shukriya baloch sahab photos ke liye

— mehroomkurta: shukriya ki kya baat? hum toh hamesha hi ready hai

— paperr.ringss: aisi baat hai kya

— mehroonkurta: aapko rasamalai pasand toh aayi na?

— paperr.ringss: haa... bahot jyada

ONGOING. 2026. willowsgoldenhour

tags 💌

@s4nzt @maxpaglu @yearnerray @hereforfanfictionsfr @ppinkitten @mainyahaankyunhoon @chai-ke-sath-parleg @gloriouspurpose01 @wtafananya @saniisinsane @mujhekoimarsbhejdo @rutvii @imrankaunbsdk @dhoodhsoda @doodeesstuff @idonthavechatpateusernamed @precioussophia @oinswiftie @crimsontraditiongolem @prettylady2006 @moonysscar @goldenharrysworld @oinswiftie

[riddhi-on-break]

Unnoticed Glances

Note: this is a work of fiction. It has no connection with real life. It does not promote any violence or support the real life actions of the people mentioned. All characters rightly belong to Aditya Dhar except my oc. Plagiarism is strictly prohibited. Hamza is not a spy here I've used em dash for the very first time, AI mat bolna please

Pairing: Hamza Ali Mazari x Maira Sherani

5 times Hamza's wife did not realise his feelings and one time she did

1-

Maira had been born to the youngest son of Sherani and his wife. Her father had died before her birth-fighting for their kom's freedom, whereas her mother had left her some time after birth, that left her to be raised by her grandfather and other women in their community.

Maira had been a pampered child-much like her name suggests. She had completed her education from some of the finest institutes in Pakistan and now at the age of 22, her grand father had taken it upon himself to get her married.

Hamza saw Maira for the first time during his visit to Balochistan, he had been immediately mesmerized by her. Hamza was someone who had a tough childhood and could never believe in love at first sight but seeing her made him forget his beliefs.

"Kon hai woh?" he asks the nearest person standing beside him, his eyes not leaving her figure.

"Sherani sahab ki poti, Maira"

He hadn't asked anything more. He didn't need to. By the time he left Balochistan a week later, he had already decided — with the same quiet finality he decided everything — that he would marry her.

Maira, for her part, had noticed the stranger only in passing. A tall man with sharp eyes who spoke little and watched much, standing slightly apart from her grandfather's other guests. She thought nothing of it.

Men came and went from her grandfather's all the time, discussing things she had no interest in. She never once caught him looking. She never once knew that somewhere behind that composed, unreadable face, a man had just fallen quietly and irreversibly in love.

After Rehman's death, Uzair had left for Dubai with the family, choosing to stay away from violence and Hamza was declared as Sher-e-Baloch.

When Hamza asked Sherani for Maira's hand in marriage, the elder man immediately agreed.

2- this one was requested by @avasif

Maira was impressed when she first met Hamza, she had not expected her grandfather to find such a hot man for marriage. The wedding was a grand celebration that took place smoothly, much to Sherani's relief.

It's been a month since the wedding and Maira still felt overwhelmed sometimes at the attention she would receive due to her title as Hamza's wife.

It was a lazy afternoon when Maira had wandered into the room which Hamza was using as his study.

He'd stepped out briefly, and his gun lay on the table beside a stack of papers, forgotten in his hurry. Maira, ever curious, picked it up carefully, turning it over in her hands, trying to remember which lever her cousin had once shown her did what.

"You shouldn't handle a loaded weapon like that."

She startled, nearly dropping it. Hamza stood in the doorway, arms crossed, an amused glint in his eyes that she'd learned to associate with him being in a particularly good mood.

"It's not loaded," she said, lifting her chin. "I checked."

"Did you, now." He crossed the room unhurried, the way he did everything, and took the gun gently from her hands — checking it himself, more out of habit than doubt. "You're right. It's not."

"See."

"Do you want to actually learn?" he asked. "Properly. Not just holding it and hoping you look intimidating."

Her eyes lit up in a way that made something in his chest go warm and stupid. "Yes."

What followed was, by any honest account, entirely unnecessary. Hamza had taught dozens of recruits how to hold a firearm in half the time it took him to explain it to Maira — except with them, he hadn't needed to stand quite so close, hadn't needed to adjust her grip finger by finger, hadn't needed to bracket her shoulders with his arms to "correct her stance," his chest a solid line against her back, his breath unmistakably close to her ear as he murmured instructions she was fairly certain she could have followed from three feet away.

"Elbows in," he said, low.

"They are in." she defended

"Not enough." His hands settled over hers on the grip, warm and sure. "Like this."

Maira, focused entirely on not embarrassing herself in front of the target across the courtyard, noticed none of it — not the way his voice had dropped, not the fact that he'd found four separate reasons in ten minutes to adjust something that had already been correct, not the small, private smile he wore whenever she wasn't looking.

She only noticed that her aim had gotten remarkably better by the end of the lesson, and said as much, cheerfully oblivious, while Hamza exhaled something that was equal parts fond and exasperated and went to go stand somewhere he could think straight.

3-

Maira's eyes felt droopy when she sat beside Hamza on the backseat. They had an event to attend, some minister's party, Maira had forgotten the plot long back and just stayed for appearances. Her face hurt from smiling all night and her feet were killing her.

Hamza had seemed to notice her discomfort and arranged the pillows behind her back.

Maira smiled at him and laid against those pillows, she kept her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

Hamza froze for a minute as the car moved in silence, he gulped, unsure of what to do with the sudden weight of her trust settling so easily against him. He didn't move for a long while, half-scared that shifting even an inch would wake her, half-scared of how much he liked her there.

He finally allowed himself to relax, one arm coming up carefully to keep her steady against the turns in the road, when his phone lit up in his pocket. Rizwan. He answered it low, careful not to disturb Maira.

"Bol."

"Bhai, ek gaadi peeche se follow kar rahi hai, teesri lane mein — do baar lane change ki hai humare peeche peeche." Rizwan's voice was tight, alert, the same tone he used only when something was wrong. "Lagta hai-"

The line cut off mid-sentence as the first shot shattered the rear windshield.

"Neeche jhuko!" His voice tore through the sleep-fogged quiet, one hand already shoving Maira down below the seat, his body curving over hers before conscious thought had even caught up.

"Hamza-" Maira whispered, her voice thick with panic as her mind tried to register the activities in her sorroundings.

"Sar neeche rakho" Hamza commands, his voice was steady even as his arm tightened around her, shielding her from the window, from the glass, from anything that might reach her.

With his free hand he'd already drawn his own weapon, angling himself so he could return fire through the shattered window without exposing an inch of her.

Behind them, the two security cars flanking their route had closed in, Rizwan's voice barking orders over the gunfire, his men matching bullet for bullet until the attackers' car began to slow, then stall, then stop altogether — riddled but not silent, the men inside groaning as Rizwan pulled them out, wounded, disarmed, alive.

It felt like hours before the gunfire actually stopped, before the silence in the car became something other than terrifying, though it had only been minutes.

Maira sat up slowly, shaking, checking herself instinctively for injuries before her eyes landed on Hamza — and the dark stain spreading across his sleeve.

"hamza aapka khoon"

"Kuch nahi hua" He was already reaching for her face, checking her over with the same urgency, ignoring his own arm entirely. "Tumhe chot lagi hai? Maira meri taraf dekho! Tumhe kahi chot lagi hai?"

"Mein theek hu, par aap-"

"Kuch nahi hua meri jaan" He cupped her face for a moment, steadying her, steadying himself, before pressing a slow kiss to her forehead. Maira's shoulders dropped and she relaxed under his touch.

"Mujhe abhi factory jana padega. Tum driver ke saath ghar jao. I'll be right behind you, okay?"

"Hamza, I'm not just going to leave you here—"

"Maira." His voice was gentle but final, the same tone he used when there was no room left to argue. "Please. Ghar jao. I'll be there soon, I promise."

She didn't believe he was as fine as he claimed, but the set of his jaw told her arguing wouldn't get her anywhere.

What she didn't understand — wouldn't understand for a while yet — was that he'd angled his entire body toward the door she sat furthest from the moment the first shot rang out, without thinking, without deciding to.

Some decisions his body simply made before his mind caught up, and all of them, every single time, had her name written into them.

+1

Maira had given up on sitting still somewhere around the fortieth minute.

She'd tried the sofa first, then the window, then finally ended up in Hamza's study, pacing the length of it over and over, her arms wrapped around herself, replaying the sound of gunfire on a loop she couldn't switch off. Every car that passed on the road outside sent her rushing to the window. None of them were his.

He said he'd be right behind me. He said —

When the doorbell finally rang, she didn't remember crossing the house to reach it. She just remembered yanking the door open and seeing him standing there, tired and rumpled and alive, and throwing herself at him before he'd even said a word.

"You're here — you're actually here—" She held onto him tight, face buried in his chest, and it was only when her hand slid to his side that she felt him tense and realised that she had just touched the area where he was hurt. "You're hurt. Aapne doctor ko kyu nahi dikhaya-"

"Mein theek hu, tum bewajah fikar mat karo, meine dikh diya hai doctor ko"

Maira's lower lip trembled and she just wrapped her arms around him again.

"Mein bohot daar gayi thi" she mummers. Hamza tightened his hold on her and kissed her forehead.

"Aap ko kis ne kaha tha ke mera khayal rakhne ke chakkar mein apna khayal na rakhein?"

"Jis se mohabbat karta hoon, usi ka khayal rakhunga na, meri jaan."

The words landed somewhere Maira wasn't braced for. She had heard him say a hundred soft, careless things to her before — teasing things, fond things, things she'd laughed off without a second thought. This one didn't slide past her the way the others had.

She went still in his arms, her face still pressed to his chest, and for a moment she simply listened to his heartbeat, steady despite everything the night had put him through, and let the sentence settle in properly. Jis se mohabbat karta hoon.

She pulled back just enough to look up at him, and found him watching her already, none of his usual composure in place, only quiet and open and a little uncertain, as if he hadn't quite meant for it to come out that way and wasn't sure what she'd do with it now that it had.

Maira didn't say anything back — not in words. She just tightened her arms around him, careful of his wound this time, and pressed her face into his shoulder, and let herself finally understand what everyone around her, apparently, had already known for months.

Taglist-

@debsreads21 @avasif @anxiousbeeing @forbiddenfanaa @majoriqbalkibiwi @seasonofthenerd @dollie1111xo5 @batata04 @granddynamonovajbvgjjj @pn28 @mainyahaankyunhoon @noor-archive @gulaabjamun08 @writrsblu @falakrazzaq @warnermeadowsgirl @goodasaysboo @akshi-the-nirmata @iamadelusionalwriter @shadylovedhurandhar @bitchy-bi-trash @draculauras-stuff @erenfox @princessglitter69 @manjari08 @gloriouspurpose01 @goodnightkatherine @humsafarhumhihai @obsessedwidskincare @adityami @khoonaurkhanjar @rosiasthings @cloudmast @eyekonic-shar-333 @sarcastic-ravenpuff @sinnoire @theuselessdaydreamingidiot @precioussophia @pleasetagmejaaneman @multifandom-enthusiastt

[willowsgoldenhour]

domhusband!hamza x subwife!reader (ˢᵐᵘᵗ)

𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝓼𝓸 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽, 𝓬𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮

𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓲 𝓶𝓮𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓶

𝓲𝓽 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓼𝓲𝓷

𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓳𝓮𝓼𝓽𝔂 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓫𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓰𝓻𝓪𝒸ℯ

synopsis - absence of hamza has been haunting the walls of the manor and especially you leading to a night out alone in the club while forgetting the fact that his eyes follow you everywhere .

warnings - oral sex (m! reciving) brat-taming, dominance and submission, choking, porn w no plot, toxic!hamza, kind of bimbo reader (idk) degradation kink, dead dove do not eat .

the sun dipped across the horizon, colour of the sky had already been a shade of pink and peachy, revealing a romantic tone, the type that reunited old lovers—but what about you?

you sat in the luxurious walls of hamza’s house, the opulent room trapped you inside the void of its prison without any escape route.

so you spent your days, alone and relentless. yes, the mansion cattered your every need but what about the greatest demons of your mind that needed the comfort.

hamza was out, every now and then in the name of karobar. his world was filed with danger and you were his most important asset, he had told you once.

“meri jaan, tum meri sabse kimti amanat ho. aur sabse kimti cheej ko toh dil ke kareeb rakhte hai na?”

it was his trap of lies, master of manipulation to keep you locked in the luxury, the room of his heart. and ever since he had received the title of sher-e-baloch seeing the emerald of his eyes was a rare sight.

you slept with the neatly tucked bedsheets and woke up to an empty side, wrinkled and messy.

but the limits were crossed.

according to your sources, he was back in karachi on wednesday and it was friday evening today. despite being in the city he didn't show up, what business was he busy with?

it was the last thread of your honour, the time limit was over and now you were going to live your life on your principles.

tonight you dressed for yourself. a black sheer dress clinged to you like a second skin, a single thin strap held it on your shoulders. the fabric barely managed to cover your thighs.

you let your soft brunette waves cascade down your shoulder, the night was young.

in the matter of forty-five minutes you had found yourself between the sharp beams of crimson and electric blue illuminating your face, the dance floor filled with the weight of bodies moving on the beat. you are in the centre, swaying your hips at every drop. the wild free waves attempt to cover your face as you move.

this was a moment of freedom, a night away from hamza’s restraints and his house. a lively moment that brought back the picture of your older self, completely forgetting about the world outside of the club.

༺♡༻

past the velvet ropes the chaos of the club instantly thins out, up here the air is cooler. carrying a rich scent of expensive cigars and spilled chamapange.

hamza sat on the red leather sofa, his massive size occupied more than half of the space. one of his hands rested on the armchair, fingers tapping the material of the couch in impatience.

he was pulled in the mahogany of neon and purple lights by one of his clients, after the deal had taken place successfully, the american native had asked him to join the club.

he paid no attention to the alcohol being served, or at the conversation that took place in the surrounding, his mind was filled with clouds of your thoughts, the urge to go home in your arms was growing as every second pass.

and he was aware that you are going to be mad, really mad at him for his absence. but then he had his own ways to make you forgive him, tonight he was going to use one of them.

beside him sat, iqbal looking equally bored, his eyes behind the tinted glass frame were pale and tired with the workload of the past days, smoking the dunghills with utter boredom. both of them looked out of place.

hamza’s restless tapping of fingers was stopped when he felt iqbal patting his shoulder.

he turned to look at iqbal, a gaze of question displayed on his face.

iqbal leaned forward, a whisper only meant for hamza’s ears.

“joh ladki niche bar ke yaha majood hai kya woh tumhari begum hai?”

at the stake of his question, hamza's eyes quickly shifted towards the lower floor, his gaze scanning a sea of people dancing on the upbeat music, to spot you in the centre of the pavillion.

he spots you instantly, his eyes tracing your figure and the dress that clung to your skin. the vein in head popped with acute ferocity, his knuckles turned white as he got a clear view of you, surrounded by the lustful gaze of other men looking at you.

hamza had to physically control himself from storming on the dance floor. one week away from the sanctuary and you pull up with this act, just to make him angry?

you might be the queen of the chessboard but he dictates every move of the queen and it was about time he reminded you—where the queen belongs.

༺♡༻

you had returned home late at night, assuming hamza would probably not grace his presence tonight. he would be to busy dealing with his karobar.

is what you thought, oh but you were wrong. very, utterly wrong.

you clicked the front door with an impact that left a loud thud in the mansion’s silent walls, your heels clinked softly on your way to the bedroom.

walking with laziness and a sharp pain that stinged in your heel with every step you took, your eyes were barely open, when you noticed the void of darkness in the living room.

it looked as if the darkness had engulfed the entire space, the place looked outrightly out of a set of the horror movie, the air grew colder as you tried to navigate further inside.

that's when you heard it

the clink of the leather boots on the polished marble floor that sent terror down your spine, you stopped at your place. clutching the fabric of your dress as the reality sinked in your chest.

the silhouette made its presence more evident by appearing in the mystical shadow of the room, hamza’s at home.

thousands of questions ran across your mind but one thing was clear, he had found out about the act that you have pulled and he was not going to give you an easy time out of this.

hamza rose from the couch, taking slow steps towards you, your heart hammered against your ribs.

you took a step back, then another.

his frame instantly dominating the dim room, with every slow methodical step he took, you took a step back.

you had no reason to be this afraid , but your knees are weakening as every second passes, you can feel your throat getting dry, no words forming to come out.

your shoulders hit the cold solid wall

hamza didn't stop until his massive frame hovered over your smaller one, completely trapping you against the wall and his body, with no escape route.

for someone who was agitated, he remained calm. there was no trace of anger on his features, only the slight possession to cage you flared in his eyes.

he tilts his head, tracking down the sheer material of your dress. his thoughts spiralling with possessiveness, “kidhar thi tum?”

the sudden shift in the air brought the brat in you back to its place, there was a twisted sensation inside you that wanted to push him on the edge and taste his limits.

“club mey gayi thi, aapko koyi masla hai?”

hamza lifted his eyebrows, inspecting the change in demeanor. his lips lifted in a smirk, “masla toh hai” fingers coming up to caress the soft skin of your cheek, gently.

“kya kaha tha meyne, tum meri sabse kimti amanat ho” the metal of his rings felt cold on your skin, fear was slowly sinking in your body. “aur aaj tum udhar dusre mardo ke samne naach rahi thi?”

the gentleness was quickly replaced with rough, painful strokes making the skin crawl under his touch., “kya laga? mujhe nahi samjhega”

hamza was quick to wrap his fingers around your throat, the weight of his hands left behind a suffocation that sent you in a different dimension.

“meri nazar tumahre har ek kadam par hoti hai, tum kya karti ho, tum kaha jaati ho mey sab dekhta hu”

“galti aapki bhi hai, agar aap karachi the toh ghar kyu nahi aaye?” looking at him, the view of his sharp jawline and the cold, unreadable expression in his eyes was overwhelming but you managed to speak.

the syllables charged something else in him, shift in his posture was instant, it fueled an unspoken desire into him and the grip on your throat tightened.

your breath caught completely in your chest, he squeezed your throat with a wild, reckless fury—the pressure of his hands making it hard for you to breathe.

your hands instinctively moved on his, “kya kar r-rahe hai a-ap?”

"wahi joh bohot pehley kardena chahiye tha" with the last dominant squeeze on your throa, " tumhe tumahri jagah yaad dil raha hu'’

the moment those words left his mouth, you were yanked forward. the hold of his dominant hands wrapping around your ankles, leaving a tight trace behind.

"on your knees” he speaks, “now” 

the sheer coldness in his voice left terror behind—you immediately fell on your knees, the marble was cold in the contrast to the temperature set in the room, afterall it was your conquest, the spark of your defiance pushed him to do this, now you were going to face it. 

his eyes fell off to your dainty figure, quietly obeying his commands.hamza's thumb gripped your chin firmly, forcing your face up to meet his gaze, 

“do you want this?” 

one thing about hamza, no matter how bratty your attitude was—or at any usual instance he always asked you this question, consent is the foremost important thing for him..

you nod slowly, there was a soothing innocence in your gaze that even made his worst demons calm but not today.

“use your words” at the intensity of his voice, you flinched, your body jerking in the pressure. 

“y-yes, i want this” the words barely come out of your mouth, brat inside you was waiting for his next move. 

his hand moved to his waist, the voice of the metal clinking filled the silence of the room. unbuckling his belt swiftly, he shreds his trousers and the cock which was straining against the material was finally out, the sheer size was erect and hard right in front of you demanding the entrance of your mouth. 

he reached down, his fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head back exposing your vulnerable throat, hamza shoved his thick and veiny cock inside your mouth. the sudden fullness forced a muffled gasp from your mouth, not giving you much time to accomodate with his size he began moving his cock inside your hot mouth. 

he began to thrust, moving his hips relentlessly in a motion. sliding his cock in and out of your mouth. the friction of his veiny skin on your tongue made you widen your mouth and pushed him deep inside your throat.

his fingers tightened in your hair, knuckles turning white while using your scalp to control the pace of your head. you could hear the, sloppy sound of his shaft sliding inside your wet saliva was a ritual of your pleasure and humiliation. 

he increased his pace, slamming his hips with a violent, primal thrusts giving you no space to breath, the base of his cock slammed your lips leaving behind a heavy sound, your eyes widened, watering instantly at the stretch of his length.

hamza didn't care if you struggled, he needed to prove to you one thing and that was you belonged to him—and disobeying means demanding his absolute worst.

hamza pulled back slowly, leaving behind a glistening trail of your saliva and pre-cum coated on the crown of his cock, with one hand—he dug his fingers inside your skin to keep you firmly on your place. kneeling, broken and staring up at him.

he looked down at you with a gaze that was dark and predatory as his other hand began stroking his cock with fast, rigid pace, the sound of his hand sliding against his wet skin was rhythmic, he watched as the mascara which previously complimented your lashes was now streaked down, straining your cheek with black ink creating a beautiful canvas for him to ruin.

hamza's speed increased, as his strokes became a blur of motion, on the verge of release he placed his cock directly in front of your face. steadily the hot splash of his cum was everywhere, on your cheeks, nose and forehead. you gasped at the sensation, as it began to slide down your jawline now towards your chin, your face was completely covered in his cum leaving you degraded and humiliated and exactly where you want. 

“will you disobey me now? ”

the pain in your jaw was aching, knees were being scraped on the floor making your entire body a mess. 

“n-no” you replied. 

“aur agar himmat bhi hui toh ab toh tumhe pata hi hai kaisa hashar hota hai” 

it was about the time hamza had made you realise this, that being married to him means giving every sense of your control in his hand. 

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞- hiiii so i have so many things to say first of all I LOVE THIS MAN LIKE OMG hamzapaglu sey meri rank hamzafucker ho gayi hai lol and i have wrote something dark?????? had always imagined more of as a domestic husband but then the urges in my mind were like nah we need a darker hamza im genuinely like gagged i hope yall like it, oh and yes so the header is inspired by @/ angelllk1ssed miss her sm :(

comment to be added on hamzas taglist

tags 💌

@s4nzt @maxpaglu @yearnerray @afortoru @hereforfanfictionsfr @luvmaii @dhoodhsoda @avasif @chai-ke-sath-parleg @yourindianbabydoll @gulaabjamun08 @rutvii @sinnoire @indigo-pdf @sheisasexier @itsnotmai

[sinnoire]

♡Under His Authority♡

Pairing:Boss!Hamza Ali Mazari x Employee!Reader [Headcanon]🔞

Summary:Hamza Ali Mazari as a horny Boss.

Warning:smut, dubious consent, power play, shy reader, dom!Hamza, manipulation, pervert Hamza, non-spy au. Read at your own discretion. MDNI

A/n:This is very self-indulgent.

[MASTERLIST]

• Boss!Hamza who becomes the fierce new king of Lyari, taking you under his wing after Aalam bhai introduces you because you desperately need a job. The exact second his gaze lands on your shy, doe eyes, your fate is sealed; he hires you on the spot, deciding right then and there that from that day forward, you belong solely to him.

• ​Boss!Hamza who constantly tracks your every move with those heavy, dark, intense eyes that make your skin prickle with heat whenever you walk into the room.

• ​Boss!Hamza who has absolutely no concept of personal space and constantly hovers around you. Whenever you approach his desk to show him a financial file, he steps right up behind your chair, leaning down so close that his broad chest completely flattens against your back. You are left trapped and breathless as his hot breath hits the crook of your neck and his rough beard ruffles against your bare shoulder, sending a desperate tingle straight to your core.

• ​Boss!Hamza who instantly catches the sudden hitch in your breathing and knows exactly the kind of intoxicating effect he has on you. Deciding to test his limits, his large, calloused hand slides up to gently grip your shoulder, rubbing his thumb against your skin until a soft, helpless moan escapes your lips before you can even stop yourself. This prompting a dark, rumbling chuckle from his chest as he whispers against your ear, "Beautiful."

• ​Boss!Hamza who completely loses his filter after that and just starts groping you whenever you are within arm's reach. He grabs your butt cheeks with those massive, warm hands of his, pulling you so tight against his frame that you can feel everything, casually planting a rough kiss on the top of your head while he subtly grinds against you right there in the office.

• ​Boss!Hamza who is utterly obsessed with your soft, full boobs and does not even try to hide it. Every single time you bend over his desk to show him a document, his eyes are locked directly onto your chest. He reaches out to slowly trace a finger along your exposed cleavage before losing his patience entirely, pulling you flush against him so he can cup you heavily in his rough, hard hands.

• Boss!Hamza who snaps after catching you tending to a wounded Rizwan, absolutely furious at another man being that close to you. Realizing that just touching you casually isn't enough anymore, he corners you against the wall the second the factory empties. Knowing you're desperate for extra money for your mother’s medicine, he lays out a ruthless, non-negotiable deal where he will pay for everything and more, but only if you accept that from this night on, you belong entirely to him.

• Boss!Hamza who loves cockwarming with you. Whenever the pressure of running Lyari gets to be too much and he is stressed out, he sits back on his throne shirtless, calls you over, and orders you to strip down and get on his lap. He loves lifting you up and pulling your body flush against his bare chest, locking you close while his hands softly run through your hair, letting out a heavy, satisfied sigh the second he feels you completely wrapped around him.

• ​Boss!Hamza who has absolutely zero boundaries when it comes to claiming you all over the office. The desk, the leather couch, his throne, and even the floor, nowhere is off-limits. He is so reckless and passionate that he completely wrecks the room, leaving even his expensive Persian rug a total mess with cum stains, and he does not even care because the chaos is just proof of how thoroughly he dominates you.

• ​Boss!Hamza who loves laying you completely flat on his leather couch, pinning you down while he takes his time with you. He hovers over you, his heavy, dark eyes completely locked onto yours, mesmerized by the way your full breasts move up and down whenever he fucks you hard. He feels your velvet walls gripping him tightly, as if sucking him inside you. He loves the breathless, flushed look on your face as he loses himself in your body.

• ​Boss!Hamza who loves to fill you with his warm seed. He is completely obsessed with the way your stomach seems to bulge out even more right after he releases his loads of cum into your fertile womb, and he loves nothing more than trailing his fingers down to trace and tease your bulging stomach while you try to catch your breath.

• Boss!Hamza who gets violently jealous the absolute second he sees Major Iqbal paying a little more attention to you than necessary. He completely snaps, dragging you by the wrist straight through the factory and barking at his men to get the hell out before slamming the office door shut. In a total possessive haze, he bends you right over the desk, aggressively pulls your salwar down, grips your butt cheeks, parts them, and shoves his aching length inside you with one powerful thrust, claiming you with absolute fury and making the desk violently shake. He then grips your hair to pull your head back, tears at the front of your kameez to get his hands all over your bare skin, and starts pawing your breasts, all while still moving into you with a punishing rhythm. The only noises in the room are the wet clapping sounds, the rattling noise of the desk, and your endless, moaning hiccups, while he growls low in your ear to remind you exactly whom you belong to.

Taglist:— [want to be tagged? just ask 🤍] 👇@anxiousbeeing @aditititiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii @abolitionistlawpluscoffee @avasif @blossomedfloweroflove @batata04 @cvclee @chai-aur-chaand @chocolate-and-trouble @carpediemdps707 @crimsontraditiongolem @dilfconisuer @debsreads21 @falakrazzaq @gloriouspurpose01 @gulaabjamun08 @goldenharrysworld @gehra-hua @harrystyleskiwi9 @hereforfanfictionsfr @itsnotmai @itstiaofficial @indigo-pdf @kamalkafool @khlomoneyyyy4 @lavenderwinkle @laal-pari @miaaaow @miraclejin1204 @malekathesimp68 @main-apni-favorite-nahi-hoon @mainyahaankyunhoon @niyadarealart @nahhaaaas @ooopssssu @philosophical38 @pn28 @precioussophia @peonies7002 @rosiasthings @rehmandakaitswife @rosesandpeoniesthings @sea-breeze-in-my-hair @scornedloverr @sabii5 @st4rmiist @seasonofthenerd @saniisinsane @written-in-ishq @writrsblu [Ask to be removed anytime! ♡]

[rutvii]

୨ৎ ˚.・𝑀𝒶𝒽𝒾 ・.˚ ୨ৎ

UZAIR X Daughter!MAHI X Wife!READER

Sypnonis-Uzair is a ruthless gangster till he had to go through the difficult task of dropping his daughter off at the first day of school a/n-idk how to write fluff bear with me warnings - none slightly suggestive content at the end ig (very bad jokes),crack fic

Uzair’s life had been the same blundering evenings he spent out with his friends, uncaring of the time that reflected on his wrists doing all the shenanigans he could with his equally crass friends, life was perfect to him before his reality changed from one word from his brother 

“ Umar ho gayi hai ab teri, Ulfat aur mai ladki dhundh rahe hai tere liye” 

And the first true discernment that his world wasn't going to be same ever was when he saw you sleeping against his chest after the wedding night,felt your deep breaths graze the skin right over his heart , tracing the indentation of the heavy jewellery left on your neck so reverently as if he had known this body all his life. 

All the time he wasted outside getting drunk and on hooligans was cut short, he had fixed time to come home or face the wrath of his wife; you. And for someone who spoke with guns and violence all his life he could confirm his wife pouting at the very other side of the bed was more dangerous than any of the work Rehman had handed him. 

The second shift, that tilted the axis of life, was 2 years after the wedding. After tons of  ‘ Bache paida karo bhai bache paida karo’ that  acted as a catalyst to the already -way overly attracted to his wife -Uzair as an excuse to devour you more than needed.

 He had expected himself to love his wife (duh) the day he saw her, saw you sitting in between your parents, your lips pressed together in a shy smile, hands fiddling at the front, bored by the familiar setting he had seen one too many this was 10 proposal he was attending to after rejecting all before them ,only to be thrown off completely when you winked at him when your parents had become occupied with Rehman and Ulfat’s ‘grown ups’ talk. 

And now he was here

The hospital air was sterile as expected, washed over and over till each corner was burning white, the newborn wailing was on everyone’s lips and eyes, becoming the center of attention but the first thing Uzair did was rush to you, laying weak but awake in the hospital bed, 

“ Dekha aapne?”

 You asked, watching him take your shaky frail hands to kiss his lips with all devotion, “  Nahi..” He whispered against your clammy palm, 

“ Phele mujhe apni jaan ko dekhna tha”

 “Mujhe toh aap vaise bhi har roz dekhte hai”

 Uzair shook his head matching your feeble smile, his eyes sunken from waiting outside awake the whole night, you ruffled his head lovingly and he understood you needed him closer. He pressed his forehead against yours 

 "Tum ne boht acha kiya meri jaan, I am so proud of you. Tum sach mein boht strong ho iska aadha dard bhi mai nahi jhel pata..meri jaan ab bas aaraam karo”

 Only when your tears dried and heartbeat became steady did he ask 

“ Ladka hai ya ladki?” 

He asked blinking slow, his eyes looking strangely different without the signature soorma but more brighter than you had ever seen them even with all the weariness that they wore.

 “ Aapki kismat thodi kharab hai Uzair miyan, ladki hui hai” you joked fully aware he would be happy with both, but you knew Uzair really wanted a boy to play football with its what he told you but you knew it was because he believed he would not be able to handle the softness of raising a daughter, and that second shift was when he first took his daughter from Ulfat’s careful hold in his, he was in love. 

She was still crying when he held her, her face scrunched up face turning red with cries when Uzair whispered in disbelief he didnt know he could have loved something this much “ Ya allah” his breaking voice was familiar to her from all the times he had spoken to your bump,  stopping her cries against his chest, breathing deep with drool gathering at her lips much like his mother in sleep, one single tear drop unchecked ran down his cheek.

“Mahira”

He whispered turning back to look at you,

“ Kya?”

You asked back still half dazed

“ Mahira, meri Mahira”

You just rolled your eyes watching that stubborn look on his face, he wasn't going to change his mind, you beckoned with your fingers and he came running like he always did. Others left the room leaving you both to yourselves, You shifted making space beside you “ Light off karo tabhi voh aankhe kholegi” He nodded obeying to your command even though he didn't understand it, his eyes focused on the newborn’s face the way her nose beaked, one side of her cheek more sunken than the other and the thick set of eyebrows he looked like him, just like him.

 Once the lights were off, only the afternoon sun made its way to illuminate the room through the unveiled windows casting long shadows in a quiet room that echoed with mechanical beeps and the baby’s breathing and cries as she shifted finally opening her eyes to him, they were like yours big and blinking at him.

For the first few months Uzair carried her around as if she was made of glass, protecting and keeping her at a arm distance from Faisal’s and Naiem hands at all cost, you had caught him soaking into her new born warm milk, vanilla-isc smell whenever you entered the room, and you trusted him to be precautious with her owing up to how overly protective he was, and that he had given up smoking in the house all together- only to be utterly betrayed to find him throwing her in the air one random evening when you decided to enter the room more quietly than usual , her head dangerously close to ceiling as she let out of toothless giggles equally entertained as her dad, her dad who flinged her in the air. 

“UZAIR!”

She laughed even more clasping at his hair, clapping her chubby hands together as the scolding ensued, “ Agli baar meri beti ke saath aise uut patang harkat karte hue maine dekh liya na toh mai aapko jinda nahi chorungi” That warning never worked and over time the stunts got worse and to your surprise the man you found the most credible in the house, your Rehman bhai was caught doing the same skulduggery at this point you were convinced it ran in the blood. 

                                    ∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘ 

Mahira was waddling behind her dad telling her about her day in her incoherent voice blabbering around, “ Baba-baba” She squeaked, and needless to say his men were entranced by the chubby ball that even momentarily scared Rehman at times walking exactly like Uzair for when he was drunk, “ Baba- godi” She slapped her palm at his pant, “ Ji Mahi” He picked her up carefully but effortlessly making her seat on her forearm, she was in the bear onesie that Uzair had insisted for you to buy and keep making her wear the same thing because its adorable to watch her face peek out from between the brown fur, her lips puckered up watching him curiously  “ Aapne khaana kha liya?” She nodded quickly her chubby cheeks puffed up and flapping understanding the broken words easily at 9 months old, and Uzair smirked showing her off with an expression that screamed ‘Meri biwi ne dilaya hai’ 

“ Hello bol ke dikhao Mahira” Her eyes widened at the familiar word reaching out and shaking her hand at the men who were never gathered around her in a small circle, watching her with so much importance and impressive now mixed with admiration like they hadn't seen somebody wave to them their whole life, only increasing the puff of Uzair chest,

 “ Yeh kaun hai Mahi?” While Hamza knew all the truth most acquainted with the haveli and after spending all his time here he knew all the truth to Mahira speaking and teachings and wasn't going to let down a chance to pull Uzair’s legs, he pointed at Uzair asking the same question, 

“Baba” She blabbered out again , “ Aur Aur?”  Hamza prompted  “ Pagal” She replied back proudly pointing at her dad, it turns out Mahi is calling Uzair all of the things she had heard you call him and the most common one being pagal. “ Yeh gande uncle hai inse baat nahi karte” He scowled trying to stop her from taking to Hamza only to be distracted when she started leaving kisses on his face waiting for him to tell her he is proud of her, meanwhile his men were going more interested to what Hamza was trying to prove, 

“ Aur aur?” 

“ UZAIR”

 she tried repeating your tone now, the one you would use to call him when he has done something to tick off your nerves, which was a very common occurrence with him and his men finally understood what was happening, and laughed out loudly helping her more  “ Aur Aur?” 

“ Uzzi” Uzair ears flushed red trying to shush her daughter

“ Aur Aur?” 

“Baby kissie”

she said out brazenly making his men choke on their laughter and Hamza just passed Uzair a sly smile that said  ‘ My Zayan’s smarter’ 

                                  ∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘ 

Uzair's biggest heartbreak till now was watching her daughter cry because of him, he had returned home early to play with her and pulled her into his lap the second he saw her to realise later that she was sniffling, her head facing away from him, angry. “ Kya hua Mahi?” He tickled her stomach but she didn't budge, making him worry more, “ Baat nahi karoge abbu se?” He tried biting her cheek but she didn't let him , “Kya hua? Jaanu kya hua hai isse” 

he called out for you, you huffed pulling off your dupatta and discarding it on the bed the view still enough to make his breath catch, “ Dimaag kharab kar diya hai isne subah se, phele Faisal ki copy faad di, fir kabse naye teddy ke liye roye jaa rahi maine toh chor hi diya bahut nakhre karte hai” “ Aakhir beti kiski hai”He joked watching you move across the room lovingly, the way you hissed when your flicks fell forward in your face looking more prettier when you were angry 

 “I am serious Uzi, aise hi chalta raha toh yeh kisi ki baat nahi sunegi” 

“ Aapki ammi toh kuch bhi bolte rahti hai kya chaiye meri gudiyan ko?” Her ears shot up ready to bombard her father with demands, “ Naya teddy…ice cream..aur aur” She tried remembering the words her little face scrunching up, “  Uzair aapko pata bhi hai kya kiya hai isne aaj?”  “ Kya kiya?” “ Gun uske kari isne” “ KYA?” 

“ Haan ek toh yeh faisal badmaash hai apne baba ki gun leke khel raha tha, usne isko gun nahi di thi copy faad di aur fir gun bhi le li aur shoot bhi kar diya, kabse sab itne tension mei hai aur isse abhi bhi zidd karni hai”

Uzair looked back at her face as she tried to still continue her demands playing innocent, what she didn't expect was that stern look from her dad and him putting her off her lap, 

“ Baba-” “No”

 he said firmly pulling away from her, she went once again tugging at his pants with a cute whine but to be ignored by him , 

“ NO Mahira”  

It stinged her deeply to hear no word from her dad, he has never ever used that tone on him and almost immediately she started bawling her eyes out, at first it was staring at him teary eyed then it became full on sobs. For Uzair to see tear in those eyes and in pain was like watching you cry and his heart wasn't made to withstand that he was putty when it came to his wife and daughter, he picked her up and that evening returned Mahira returned home with a hand full of cup ice creams and a teddy bear double her size tucked into his bicep. 

( imagine what Uzair was going through when she was teething earlier) 

                                   ∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘ 

  The air in the house was chaotic as usual but it had heightened more today turning into a jumble since it was Mahira's first day of school, you had pressed her uniform with precision putting her small frame into the equally small shirt and layering it with the bubbly pink over skirt, Ulfat dabbed a diabolical amount of kohl behind her eyes to ward off evil, Rehman was giving her a ted talk and she was getting tossed from one carry to another, currently in Rehman’s trained hands 

“ Koi bhi school mei pareshan karega toh apne bhaiya ko batana” She squinted her eyes at both of her supposed ‘protectors’ and decided she was her own saviour, “ Its okay bade abbu chill” she could barely pronounce the words but she said them anyways, “ Yes.. I am chill” Rehman said clearing his throat

Uzair moved differently from the atmosphere the gloominess as evident and clear as day, “ Y/N mai gaadi nikaal raha, Mahira ko leke aajaana” 

“ Meri bacchi” Rehman muttered lovingly assailing her with kisses that were soon joined by chachi as well, “ Bas bas” she jumped off running to you 

You sat in your destined passenger seat making her recall all the basics you had already told her ten times, half turned into the backseat 

“ Bottle hai na?” 

“Ammi baba ka number yaad hai na? If not revise it Mahi and aapke bag pe bhi likha hai”

“ Koi pareshan kare toh direct teacher ko batana hai and agar teacher na sune toh bhaiya ko, bhaiya ki class second floor pe hai okay?” she sighed nodding 

“ Koi ladka kuch bolega toh mujhe batana” that's all Uzair had to add to the conversation, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. 

It was march end, the summer heat was invading and breaking through the winters, the trees leaves anew you yourself were feeling teary eyes walking her to the door, kneeling by and telling all that she needed to near,

“ You are a brave girl Mahi okay, only three hours fir mama aapko lene aa jayegi”

She nodded looking comically unbothered, Uzair hadn’t intercepted one standing leaned against the door, his arm crossed over his chest, jaw shut tight with held in emotions. 

“ Baba bye”

She waved cutely and Uzair let out a ugly,nose reddening cry before breaking into absolute tears, both of your head shot up in synchrony watching him like he had grown a second hand and Mahira was unimpressed totally unimpressed,

“ Uzair bas its okay”

You whispered confused yourself at over the emotional breakdown,

“ Chalo bye toh bol do”

You dragged him to the door and he still has not stopped crying yet. 

“ Mahi..bye”

He kneeled down kissing her forehead cupping her face with his shaky hands, and Mahira was only a toddler, still three going on four she wasn't going to be untouched from the realisation of staying away from house, and her world won't be her house and the people she knew anymore and seeing the pain on her father’s face made her cave breaking into a childish cry going to clinging at her father’s shoulder. “ Mera baccha Mera baccha” 

Uzair eyes were still blurry with tears and you had to drive ,constantly assuring him that it was just three hours and barely a big deal, but to Uzair all he could see that his baby who couldn't even support her head was now walking and going to school, a girl who couldn't live without pampering how will she face the world , in Uzair’s world there was no time for him to be a kid all his childhood was spent in blood and crime and he could not bear the same for his Mahi, not at all he never wanted the harshness of the world to touch her ever.

                                       ∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘ 

By the time you both reached home, his cries subsiding into soft sniffles you poked fun of his blotchy face a few times before pulling him into a hug,

“ Aap itna kabse rone lage”

he said nothing pulling you tighter, crushing your chest with his burying his face in the crook of your shoulder, inhaling your scent deeply

“ Mujhe ek aur Mahi chaiye”

“ Uzair kya bol rahe hai aap”

“ Ek ladka..nahi ladka nahi varna Faisal aur Naiem jaise ho jayega ek aur ladki chaiye” You slapped at his chest chuckling, “ Pagal” “Mai majaak nahi kar raha” You pulled back a little to the serious look of his face, “ Uzzi no” You shook your head, but Uzair hands moved faster sweeping you off the floor in one go, you yelped hands going to his biceps but he wasn't stopping till he had carried you into your room, put you in bed.

a/n- bleh i know I should have posted this in the morning but I said today so aaj hi post kardiya, hope you all like it!!

@laal-pari @gulaabjamun08 @blossomedfloweroflove @precioussophia @gehra-hua @dollyskinsblog @debsreads21@crimsontraditiongolem @anxiousbeeing @stoicepochmaw @sea-breeze-in-my-hair, @yourindianbabydoll @twinblueflamee@cloudyparadoxqueen @prettylady2006 @maroonphase @mujhekoimarsbhejdo @chai-ke-sath-parleg @carbonaramarinara @shadyalpaca13 @readerhahahaidk @sahaar @mai-apni-favorite-nahi-hoon @idonthavechatpateusernamed @granddynamonovajbvgjjj @manniexo @thepjnight @m3hr33n33 @chocolate-and-trouble @abolitionistlawpluscoffee, @neelom @rini4everdreaming @mynotesapptbh @goodnightkatherine @doesntmatteryawwrr @heavenlit-34 @hcneymark @itstiaofficial @lucidtempesthoe @persephone990 @adityami @ppinkitten @carbonaramarinara @prettylady2006 @foolishlyradiantshrine @rabbdaradio @uzairpagluuuu @rehmanhatesdosa @work-of-procrastination @blossomedfloweroflove @sinnoire

[filmy-totoro]

Hullo, I loved your Misti fic! It was so cutee. I was wondering if you could make a part 2 because I love it so muchh! I have a request if you are interested, maybe one where Misti gets invited for a Punjabi festival so she wears a punjabi suit which matches with Keenu's paaga due to his sister secretly planning it so a cute moment happens then his cousin starts flirting with her causing him to get jealous and his entire family and friends to get amused because his reactions will be really funnyy then maybe he storms off then she follows after him then a cute moment between them happens. I really hope you do this, if it's a no, it's okayy!

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Oh my gosh I am absolutely in LOVE with this idea! 😭❤️

The matching outfits, the matchmaking sister and Keenu getting super jealous while his whole family teases him? It is absolute perfect.

Thank you so much for loving the first part. I am 100% going to write this Part 2 for you so stay tuned!

[sinnoire]

☣Zeher☣

—Rehman Baloch x Reader—[ ch.2/?] ~《Series》

— previous-chapter & Next-chapter | masterlist

Summary:— He married her for his wife. He hunted her down for himself. She came back for reasons she'll never say out loud.

The days after didn't change, and the routine felt like a physical weight.

Faizal still dragged his feet when it was time for his afternoon nap at two. His milk still had to be heated to exactly the right temperature, or he’d push the cup away with both hands, glaring up at you from his small study table as if you’d personally insulted him. In the kitchen, the parathas still hissed on the iron tawa; outside, the morning azaan still rose over the compound wall, followed by the gravelly voices of Rehman's men shifting crates in the courtyard below.

But there was a new pressure in the air.

Ulfat didn't look through you anymore. The blank, milky stare she had carried since the funeral was gone, replaced by something sharp. You would find her standing at the end of the long corridor near the boy's room, her fingers hooking into the carved woodwork of the doorframe. When you walked past, her eyes followed the movement of your throat as you swallowed. You kept your head down, focusing on the floor tiles, pretending the hairs on your arms weren't standing up. It was just your imagination. It had to be.

The guard came on a Thursday evening.

You were folding a stack of Faizal's clean clothes, his small kameezes and socks, when the shadow blocked the doorway. The men never crossed the threshold into the family quarters, but his voice was loud enough to break the quiet of the room.

"Sardar aapko apne study mein bula rahe hain."

The fabric slipped from your fingers. Rehman Baloch had never sent for you after dark. You pulled your dupatta tight across your chest, your hands suddenly cold and clumsy, and followed the guard's heavy boots down the hall. The yellow wall-sconces cast long, distorted shadows ahead of you.

The study door was ajar, letting out a thick scent of stale tobacco and heavy wood polish. Rehman stood by the tall window, his broad back blocking most of the moonlight. He didn't look back when the floorboards creaked under your feet.

"Ander aao. Darwaza band kar do."

You clicked the heavy latch shut and stayed by the wall, keeping your eyes on the intricate maroon patterns of the Persian rug. "Jee, Sardar? Faizal theek toh hai?"

"Faizal theek hai."

He ground his cigarette into a brass ashtray with unnecessary force. When he turned, the lamplight hit the deep, dark purple pockets under his eyes. His shoulders were slouched forward, stripping away the fierce posture he usually held in front of his men.

He walked around the heavy mahogany desk, his slippers dragging slightly on the rug, until he stopped a few feet away.

"Tumhare abba ki halat kaisi hai ab? Chote bhai ki padhai? Factory se jo paise bheje ja rahe hain, woh kafi hain?"

The sudden questions made your chest tighten. "Jee... aapki bohot meherbani hai. Guzara bohot achhi tarah ho raha hai. Main hamesha aapki shukur-guzar..."

"Mujhe tumhara shukriya nahi chahiye," he interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. He looked past your shoulder, his jaw clenching so hard a muscle twitched in his cheek. The grandfather clock in the corner ticked loudly, filling the gap between you. "Mujhe... kuch aur chahiye."

You kept your hands folded in your linen suit, squeezing your own fingers until they throbbed.

"Ulfat ki halat din-b-din kharab hoti ja rahi hai," he said, his tone flat, empty of its usual authority. "Doctors kehte hain ke agar uske zehen ko koi umeed nahi mili, toh... puri tarah pagal ho jayegi. Main usey is tarah khatam hote nahi dekh sakta."

"Begum sahiba bohot takleef mein hain," you whispered, your throat dry. "Lekin... main ek mulazim hoon. Main kya kar sakti hoon?"

He stepped closer. The smell of tobacco and expensive cologne was overpowering.

"Usey apna beta wapas chahiye. Ek naya bacha, jisme mera khoon ho. Aur tum janti ho....Ulfat ab maa nahi ban sakti."

Your breath hitched. You looked down at his leather sandals, unable to process the words.

"Main tumse nikah karna chahta hoon."

The word hung there. Nikah. It didn't belong in this dark, wood-scented office. It belonged to wedding music, family gatherings, and red silk—not a transaction in the middle of the night. Your eyes darted to the brass buttons on his vest, counting them automatically because looking at his face felt dangerous.

"N-Nahi..." The word was thin, breaking in your throat. "Sardar, aap yeh kya keh rahe hain? Main... main ek mamooli ladki hoon. Aapke ghar ka namak khati hoon...."

A floorboard creaked behind you.

Your spine locked.

Ulfat didn't slide gracefully out of the shadows; she was just suddenly standing right there by the edge of the bookshelf, her bare feet pale against the dark rug. There was no cloth doll in her arms tonight. Her hair was tangled, but her eyes were piercingly clear. Terrifyingly clear.

Ulfat looked up into your face. Her skin was gray under the lamp, but her hand stayed pressed against your belly, warm and heavy. A tear slid down your nose, and she caught it with her thumb, smearing the wetness across your cheek.

She walked over without a sound and stopped close enough that you could smell the stale rosewater on her clothes. Without a word, she raised her right hand and pressed her palm firmly against your stomach.

​You flinched and stumbled backwards, but Rehman’s hand came down heavily on your shoulder; he didn't squeeze, but his weight anchored you to the spot.

"Ghabrao mat," she whispered. Her voice didn't shake. "Tum meri choti behen jaisi rahogi. Tumhare abba ka sheher ke sabse bade hospital mein ilaaj hoga. Tumhari maa ko kabhi haath nahi phelana padega." Her palm pressed a little harder into your flesh. "Bas... tum mujhe mera Naieem wapas de do."

You looked at Rehman. He was staring at the wall behind you, his mouth drawn into a thin, tight line. He looked like a man who had exhausted every option, a man who knew exactly how monstrous this was but was going to do it anyway.

"Faisla tumhara hai," Rehman said, his voice flat. "Bahar jaogi toh wahi tumhara purana ghar hai, wahi bhookmari hai. Yahan rukogi, toh is ghar ki izzat banogi."

Images flashed through your mind—not in a grand sequence, but in sharp, ugly bursts. Your father’s paralyzed arm hanging uselessly over the side of the string cot. The empty flour canister in the kitchen. Your little brother gluing the sole of his shoe back together for the third time.

Your knees felt weak under the weight of Rehman's hand.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded once.

Ulfat didn't hesitate. She threw her arms around your neck, pulling you into her chest. She gripped you so tightly it hurt, her fingers digging into your shoulder blades. She buried her face in your neck, releasing a ragged, choking sob that sounded like a lock finally snapping open.

Over her shoulder, Rehman slowly looked down at the floor, his face completely blank as the clock kept ticking.

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[filmy-totoro]

So excited for this series 🙌

[filmy-totoro]

pls post next part of fitoor dude

🫣🫣sorry love 👉👈 actually main Vedang Raina ke saath busy ho gayi thi 🥺🥺🥺

[filmy-totoro]

Misti – ​Ishar Singh Grewal(Keenu) x Reader(misti) - oneshot

The golden afternoon sun of Sargodha cast long shadows across the dusty streets, the whole town humming with its usual lazy rhythm. You navigated the familiar alleys, the silver anklets beneath your cotton salwar kameez chiming softly with every step. Cradled in your hands was a brass dabba filled to the brim with rosogollas you had spent the morning preparing.

It had been two years since your father, the District Magistrate, had been posted to this bustling Punjabi town. Leaving the lush green landscapes of Bengal had broken your heart at first, but Sargodha, and specifically the fiercely loving family in the haveli at the end of the lane, had stitched it back together.

You stepped through the wooden doors, the scent of ghee and dried red chilies giving way to jasmine blooming somewhere in the courtyard.

"Sat Shri... Sat Sri Akal, Beeji," you called out, stumbling slightly over the vowels the way you always did, pulling your dupatta a little higher over your shoulder.

Beeji was on her charpoy in the center of the aangan, sifting through a plate of wheat. Her face broke into a crinkly smile the moment she saw you.

"Do saal ho gaye, phir bhi tera Punjabi kaccha hai," she laughed, not unkindly, waving you closer. "Koi baat nahi, dhee. Aaja, aaja meri dhee. Aaj phir kuch meetha banaya hai? Teri mehek toh is dabbe se pehle aati hai."

You smiled, a little sheepish, the small correction landing soft rather than sharp, the way it always did in this house. Your eyes betrayed you as they scanned the courtyard, searching the verandas and the rooftop for a tall frame, a neatly tied pugri, a crisp pant shirt. He wasn't there. You held up the container anyway.

"Haan Beeji, rosogolla banaya tha aaj. Phoola kahan hai?"

Beeji's eyes twinkled with ancient mischief. "Apne kamre mein padhai kar rahi hai. Jaa, uske paas chali jaa, warna saari mithai main akele kha jaungi."

You made your way to the back room, laughing softly. You and Phoola were the only girls in your batch at the Government College, a bond that had quickly turned into sisterhood. But as you pushed open the heavy teakwood door, you knew Phoola's love for sweets was only half the reason you visited so often.

"Oye hoye! Meri Misti aayi hai!" Phoola shrieked, abandoning her history books and lunging for the brass container. She popped a rosogolla into her mouth, eyes closing. "Waheguru! Misti, tere haath mein toh jaadu hai. Kasam se, main inke bina nahi jee sakti."

Heat rushed up your cheeks, and as always happened when you were flustered, your mother tongue slipped out. "Arey, baba, aaram se kha. Onek aache... I mean, aur bhi hain dabbe mein. Dheere dheere kha, Phoola."

You settled on the edge of her bed, gossiping about a particularly strict professor from college, your sketchbook resting shut beside you the way it always did, never quite out of your hands for long. You were deep in conversation when the rattle of bicycles echoed in the outer courtyard.

Keenu and his best friend Aftab pushed open the heavy gates. Keenu's cotton shirt was tucked neatly into his trousers, his pugri immaculate as always, mid-sentence in some line of Urdu poetry he had just penned, when Beeji's voice cut through the courtyard.

"Oye Keenu! Aa gaya tu?"

"Haan ji Beeji, bas abhi aaye hain," Keenu replied, leaning his Raleigh bicycle against a pillar.

"Toh jaldi andar jaa. Aaj Misti aayi hai," Beeji said, tease dripping from every word. "Aur apne saath tere pasandida rosogolle bhi layi hai. Pata nahi, shayad Phoola ne ab tak khatam kar diye hon."

Misti.

Keenu froze. The couplet died on his lips. His hand flew up, smoothing down his beard, then trailing to check his pugri.

Aftab caught the panic in his friend's eyes and let out a snort. "Oye hoye, Majnu bhai! Sun liya naam? Pairo mein pahiye lag gaye?"

"Sachi Beeji? Woh aayi hai?" Keenu's voice cracked, deaf to Aftab's teasing.

"Haan haan, jaa bhag ke jaa!" Beeji laughed, waving him off.

Keenu didn't think twice. He abandoned the bicycle, which wobbled precariously before Aftab caught it, and sprinted across the courtyard, dodging a charpoy and leaping over a drying mat of red chilies.

"Oye ruk jaa, aashiq! Gardan tudwayega kya!" Aftab yelled, cracking up as he dropped the bikes and ran after him.

The commotion drew Keenu's mother and aunts to the veranda. Their usually composed, poetry spouting, college going boy, sprinting like a five year old towards his sister's room. The elder women erupted into laughter.

"Haye rabba, dekho isko! Jawaani ke din," his aunt giggled, pulling her dupatta over her mouth. "Bada kavi banta hai, par ladki dekhte hi bacha ban jata hai."

A few steps from the door, Keenu stopped.

He pressed a hand to his chest, drawing one long breath in, then let it out slow, like he could push the last of the sprint out of his body along with it. His fingers moved fast and practiced, smoothing his beard, straightening his pugri, tugging his shirt back into place at the waist, running a hand down the front of his trousers to knock the dust off. He rolled his shoulders back, chin lifted, chest puffed, the picture of the composed, poetry reciting man he wanted her to see.

That was the exact moment the door flew open.

You came barreling out, sketchbook clutched to your chest with both arms like something that might be torn from you, Phoola right on your heels.

"Dikha na yaar, sirf ek baar dikha de!" Phoola laughed, grabbing for the edge of the sketchbook. "Tu hamesha usi mein muskurati rehti hai jab koi nahi dekh raha hota, main bas dekhna chahti hoon kya hai usme!"

"Nahi, Phoola, chhod!"

Neither of you saw Keenu standing there, freshly composed for an entrance that never got to happen.

You collided into him at full speed, the impact knocking the sketchbook clean out of your arms. His arms shot out on instinct, catching you at the waist before you could stumble back, steadying you against him. For a second neither of you breathed. His hand was warm through the cotton of your kameez, and you could feel your own heartbeat everywhere at once.

Behind you, Phoola skidded to a stop, hand flying to her mouth to smother a laugh she didn't try very hard to hide.

"Sambhal ke," Keenu said quietly, not letting go a second longer than he needed to.

The sketchbook lay open on the ground between you, pages splayed. You both bent for it at the same time, and your hand landed on his.

Neither of you moved.

His eyes dropped to the page.

It was his own face looking back at him. Charcoal lines of his jaw, his pugri, the exact tilt of his head when he recited a couplet without realizing he was doing it. Not one sketch. Page after page, each one more careful than the last.

He looked up at you slowly.

The tip of your tongue poked out between your teeth for half a second, the way it always did when you got caught doing something you weren't supposed to, before you pressed your lips together and looked away, unable to hold his gaze.

You couldn't speak. There was nothing left to hide behind, not the dupatta, not the rosogollas, not the practiced Punjabi you always fumbled at Beeji's door. Just this.

Something in his chest settled, quiet and certain, like a line of poetry finally finding its last word. He had filled half a notebook with her name disguised as metaphor, her eyes hidden inside verses about the moon, never once imagining she carried him too, tucked into the corner of a sketchbook in careful black lines.

He would show her, he decided. Someday. Every page.

For now he only closed the sketchbook gently and held it out to you, his fingers brushing yours again on purpose this time.

Behind you, Phoola cleared her throat loudly, suddenly very interested in the pattern of the courtyard tiles, a smile she was fighting tugging at the corner of her mouth. Neither of you noticed. Neither of you looked away.

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