hello i’m suzie ⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆
18 ⋮ she/her ⋮ 🇬🇧
♬⋆.˚ ethel cain, tv girl, bon iver
✧˖°. emergency intercom, slushy noobz, sinjin drowning
masterlist ☆
i’m a hamzah fanfic writer and my requests are always open!! 🧸🫐
Today's Document

tannertan36
Sade Olutola
YOU ARE THE REASON
Not today Justin
dirt enthusiast
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Peter Solarz
No title available

JVL

Andulka

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ojovivo
Xuebing Du

pixel skylines
hello vonnie
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
we're not kids anymore.

Origami Around
Keni

seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from Türkiye

seen from Malaysia

seen from France

seen from Malaysia

seen from Germany

seen from Australia

seen from France
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Türkiye

seen from Singapore

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@onlinesuzie
hello i’m suzie ⋆。𖦹°⭒˚。⋆
18 ⋮ she/her ⋮ 🇬🇧
♬⋆.˚ ethel cain, tv girl, bon iver
✧˖°. emergency intercom, slushy noobz, sinjin drowning
masterlist ☆
i’m a hamzah fanfic writer and my requests are always open!! 🧸🫐
hello beautiful people, i know i said i was gonna post but i’m really struggling keeping my account active with my uni life. i will post eventually but for now onlinesuzie will be inactive!! love you all so much
the cutest 😭🤍
ur writing is so chefs kiss omggg 🤍 would love if you could expand on the part in your hc fic on where a sex scene comes up and hamzah gets super nervous omggg
MDNI 18+ expansion on my editor!reader hc's (tysm for the kind words !!!<3)
˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚ to be fair, both of you did not do research on the movie currently playing in front of you. it was rated R, but for what reasons neither of you cared to check. hamzah sort of just put it on and beckoned you to couch after you'd been editing for a majority of the day. it was smooth sailing for the first 45 minutes or so, until the two main love interests finally get each other alone. anticipating what's to come next, hamzah clears his throat and gets up to get more popcorn from the kitchen. he's gone for longer than he should and once he returns, the two characters finally start going at it.
"jesus christ..." he mumbles, pretending to check a notification on his phone as the two characters grind against each other.
it's graphic. not just a brief little love scene. no, god, no. the main girl whimpers and pants, riding the main with so much force that their bed rocks against the wall. the man grips her ass, spanking her roughly as she begs him for more.
your face feels like it's on fire and you can only imagine what hamzah must be feeling. he lets out a nervous, breathy laugh, adjusting his pajama pants not-so-discreetly.
"we can-um, we can watch something else if you want." you suggest, grabbing the remote and turning down the volume to the main girl isn't screeching in your ear.
hamzah shakes his head, mouth full of popcorn, "nah, it's fine. i'm sure it's almost done."
boy, was he wrong. the scene lasted about 5 minutes and little did you know, hamzah was internally a fucking wreck. being a single guy, was one thing. sure, he got horny pretty frequently. but, being a single guy living with a single girl who he thought was the hottest woman to ever grace his presence......it had him praying you couldn't read his mind in this moment. if you knew what he was imagining, the dirty fantasies of throwing you on the bed the way the characters did.....he doesn't even want to think about how much you'd probably hate him.
"are you okay?" you nudge his shoulder, snapping him out of his trance.
he blinks a couple times, swallowing the chewed popcorn that had just been sitting in mouth, "yeah, no-sorry. i was trying to disassociate so this damn scene would go by faster."
a lie. a blatant lie that he hopes you'll believe. but you don't. how are you supposed to believe him when he looks all flushed and awkward, scratching the back of his neck while he avoids eye contact. he's a terrible liar, you giggle to yourself. however, for the sake of your work relationship, you just shrug and lay back against the couch.
໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა taglist ; @nativegirltapes @etherealval + let me know if u wanna be added !!!
taste- hamzahthefantastic
warning; pussy eating ☺️
it was a rainy dark thursday night, my night consisted of fall movies and shamelessly scrolling on social media for long periods of time.
HE’S DOING WHAT ??? D:
bro why you looking at me like that
hello beautiful people, feeling like writing again
what fic?
hamzah played you in high school, will he be different now?
hamzah university flatmates
hamzah meets you in croatia and wants to get to know you better
okay boyfriend
thigh riding ⋆ ˚。⋆୨୧˚
words: 1.6k ⭑.ᐟ
'roommates, hamzah smut, f!reader, thigh riding'
you have always been obsessed with hamzah’s thighs
. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁౨ৎ. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁
As Hamzah’s roommate and close friend, you had always admired Hamzah’s athletic build, a product of his consistent gym routine, but lately, one particular feature of his had become an almost unbearable fixation. His thighs—thick, powerful, and muscular—seemed to occupy every corner of your mind. Whether he was moving around the apartment or sitting casually at the dinner table, they were always there, demanding your attention.
You tried to dismiss it as a perverted thought, due to something like stress or distraction. But no matter how much you tried to push the obsession away, it gnawed at you, growing with every glance you stole. Each time Hamzah stretched, or when he’d casually throw one leg over the other while watching TV, your eyes would drift—fixated on the way his sweatpants clung to the firm muscles beneath, or how his skin would peek through when his shorts rode up. It became harder to maintain normal conversation, your thoughts clouded with the image of his thighs.
One quiet afternoon, Hamzah was laying on the couch, his head tilted back against the cushion as he scrolled through his phone. His t-shirt had ridden up slightly, revealing a tantalizing sliver of his smooth, tanned skin just above the waistband of his grey sweatpants. It was such a simple, casual moment, but to you, it was everything. His brown curly hair fell across his forehead, perfectly framing his stunning eyes, while his full lips curled into a relaxed smile. His happy trail leading down to somewhere you had always dreamt of going.
Your gaze drifted lower, drawn irresistibly to his thighs. The fabric of his sweatpants hugged them in a way that highlighted every detail—the definition of muscle beneath the soft cotton. His legs were slightly spread, casual and confident, and you could see the powerful outline of his quads flexing ever so slightly with each movement.
You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to focus on anything but him, but the image was seared into your mind. You could almost feel the heat radiating from his body, impossible to ignore. The mumbling of his voice as he chuckled at something on his phone only made your heart race more.
It had been an exhausting week, and you and Hamzah were in the living room. The familiar sounds of a movie played in the background, but your mind was elsewhere. Your makeup bag sat beside you, and as you glanced over at Hamzah, you could only think about his perfect features, his stunning smile peaking through his lips and his tan skin warm under the late night glow.
You shifted in your seat, slightly biting your lip before speaking. “Hamzah… please let me put makeup on you,” you said with a grin, trying to sound casual. Playful. Like this was just another one of your random ideas. But your heart was racing, your words pouring out of your mouth.
Hamzah turned his head, one eyebrow raised in an amused disbelief. “Makeup? Really?” His smirk was familiar, teasing, but there was something deeper in his eyes.
“Why not? It’ll be fun.” Your voice shook just slightly, and you prayed he didn’t notice.
He stared at you for a moment, as if weighing out his options, his eyes narrowing like he was trying to figure out what your real game was. Finally, he sighed, shaking his head with a half-smile. “Alright,” he said. “Go ahead.”
Your heart fluttered as you stood up, moving to straddle his lap, carefully positioning yourself above his thigh. The instant closeness caught you off guard—his warm body beneath yours, the subtle scent of his cologne reminding you off your proximity. But you ignored it, reaching for your makeup bag to distract yourself from the sudden intimacy.
As you opened the bag, your fingers trembled, ruining your attempt of the spontaneous personality you were trying to maintain. Hamzah’s hands rested lightly on your hips, almost as if he was trying to steady your internal shaking feelings, but the lightness of his touch only made the feeling between you more intense. His grip wasn’t firm, just enough to remind you he was there, his hands large and warm.
You dipped a brush into the blush, your focus struggling as the atmosphere between you thickened. Then, before you could make the first stroke, Hamzah shifted beneath you, adjusting his leg, and his thigh pressed directly against you—right where you were most sensitive. The sudden, firm pressure on your cunt was shocking, an unexpected feeling of pleasure shooting through you. Your breath shortened, and without meaning to, you moaned softly, your body instinctively leaning forward as the sensation flowed through you.
Hamzah froze, his hands gripping your waist tighter, and you could feel the shift in his energy immediately. He knew. He had felt the way your body reacted. His leg had pressed into you at just the right angle, and the pressure sent your senses spiraling. You leaned into him, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of pleasure.
“Are you okay?” he asked concerned.
You didn’t answer immediately, too focused on recovering from the embarrassment, but when you finally lifted your head to meet his gaze, you saw it in his eyes. The intensity that had always simmered between you was now burning, darkening his expression as he watched you, trying to read your every thought. You nodded, your heart pounding. “I’m fine,” you whispered, your voice shaking as you stayed close, your body still sensitive from the accidental touch. “It just… felt good.”
Something shifted then, the playful atmosphere gone, replaced by a quiet tension that filled the space between you. Your legs tightened slightly around his thigh without thinking, the heat radiating from his body making it impossible to ignore how close you were. How much you wanted this.
Hamzah’s hands slid higher on your waist, his grip becoming firmer. His gaze didn’t shift, his voice lower now, like a whisper. “You don’t have to stop,” he said, his words sending a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t a command, but it wasn’t exactly a suggestion either. It felt more like an invitation—a dare.
Your breath caught, and the tension between you building. You shifted again, your body reacting on its own as you moved, your hips pressing down against his thigh, seeking that same euphoric pressure you’d felt before. When you found it, when the friction hit that sensitive spot again, it sent pleasure coursing through you so intense that you couldn’t suppress the soft moan that rose from your chest.
Hamzah’s grip on your waist tightened, his eyes darkening even more as he felt the way you responded to him. His hands caressed you, guiding your movements now as if he knew exactly what you wanted. His leg tensed beneath you, his muscles flexing as you rocked against him, each motion sending another pulse of pleasure through you.
Without thinking, you leaned in, your lips brushing the side of his neck. The softness of his skin, warm against your mouth. You kissed him there, your lips lingering against his heart beat. His grip on your waist tightening even more. You kissed him again, firmer this time, and his body tensed beneath you.
“God,” he muttered, his voice shaking, his hands sliding up your sides, steadying you as you continued to move against him, your hips grinding down with each kiss. You trailed your lips along his neck, pressing slow, wet kisses against his skin, your breath warm as it mingled with his. You could feel him respond to every kiss, his body reacting to each press of your lips, each brush of your mouth.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, and you couldn’t help but smile against his skin. You kissed the spot just beneath his jaw, your tongue flicking out ever so slightly, tasting the salt of his skin as you moved your hips again, harder this time.
“Good,” you breathed against his neck, “Hamzah I’ve made your thigh so wet.” You kissed him again, this time sucking gently on his skin, just enough to make him groan softly, the sound turning you on even more. You wanted more—needed more.
His hands slid up your sides, one of them tangling in your hair as he tilted your head back slightly, his lips brushing against your ear. “You know what you’re doing, don’t you?”.
Your lips moved against his neck, kissing him again as you whispered, “Maybe.” You shifted your hips once more, your breath catching as the pressure hit just right, forcing you to begin chasing a release. “Do you want me to stop?”
Hamzah’s response was immediate. “No,” he muttered. “Please don’t stop.”
The words sent a thrill through you, your body moving instinctively against his, the friction between you almost unbearable now. You kissed up the side of his neck, your mouth trailing along his jaw until your lips were hovering just over his, the closeness almost suffocating.
“Tell me what you want,” Hamzah rasped, his voice low, filled with the same hunger that was burning through you. His hands gripped your waist, holding you in place as you moved, his body responding to every shift, every kiss.
“I want more,” you whispered against his lips, your breath shaky, your pulse racing. You could barely form the words. "I need more."
His hands placed at your waist, his lips just inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “Take those off then, my love,” he whispered, his fingers trailing down your body, hooking his index finger into your waistband. “I want you to cum on my cock”
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notes: i’m not the biggest fan of this, but i literally have no motivation!! i’m sorry guys i love u :3
might post some hamzah smut while i edit my hamzah angst guys (a sentence that could only be said on tumblr)
I WANT HIM SO BAD ACTUALLY BITING AT THE BARS OF MY CAGE
coming soon…
“You really want to know?” he mumbled, his words slurred, his hesitation was obvious. He ran a hand through his hair, looking anywhere but directly at you, his jaw shaking slightly as if trying to figure out how to say the words. “That night… when we were at the party… when I kissed you.”
He paused, his dark glossy eyes briefly looking up to yours before darting away again. He was so scared, almost fighting against his body. “I—I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. It just… it just happened, and I—I thought maybe…” He trailed off, swallowing hard, clearly struggling to find the right words. He took a hard and sharp breath before he continued.
think about this video every day
love you hamzah x
love red and blue more though
i need a hamzah cameo for my birthday.
‘we shouldn’t be doing this’ ⊹ ࣪ ˖⟡ ݁₊ .
words: 4k ⭑.ᐟ
‘infidelity, hamzah smut, f!reader’
feeling distant from your long-distance boyfriend, jake, you turn to his close friend, hamzah, for comfort.
based of this clip
── ⊹ ࣪ ˖♡˖ ࣪ ⊹ ──
You sit on the edge of your bed, phone in hand, staring at Jake’s message: “Can’t talk tonight. Work’s crazy. Miss you, though.” The words feel hollow, a pattern that’s become all too familiar. It’s the third time this week he’s canceled. The hope you’d been holding onto fizzles out. With a heavy sigh, you toss the phone onto the bed, the sound barely registering as it bounces off the pillow.
You stand and walk cautiously toward the mirror, your footsteps soft on the carpet, as if afraid to disturb the quiet. As you reach the mirror, your eyes meet your own reflection, but it doesn’t feel like you. It’s almost like you’re staring at someone else—an older, future version of yourself, worn down by disappointments like this.
Your hand rises instinctively, running through your hair in a familiar, comforting gesture. But this time, it doesn’t help. Your lip begins to tremble, betraying the storm of emotions you’ve been trying to keep buried. You bite down on the corner of it, trying to regain control, but it’s no use. The quivering only intensifies.
And then you see it—her. The version of you that you’ve been trying to ignore. Her face—your face—scrunches up, eyes brimming with tears you’ve been holding back for too long. The feelings you’ve been shoving down, the doubts, the loneliness, all come rushing to the surface.
For a brief moment, it’s like you’re watching someone else, but then it sinks in—she’s not some stranger. She’s you. This is who you are now. This is the you that you've been trying not to acknowledge, and suddenly, there's no escaping it.
A year ago, you would have never imagined feeling this distant from Jake. Back then, everything was easy—casual dates, late-night talks, and plans that didn’t involve long stretches of silence or missed phone calls.
When he first got the job offer in another city, you were nothing but supportive—proud, even. It was a huge opportunity, a chance for him to grow, and you both believed you could make long-distance work. In the beginning, it wasn’t so bad. He made an effort, calling regularly and visiting whenever he could. You could still feel the connection, the excitement in his voice when he talked about his new life.
But as the months passed, things started to shift. His job began to consume more of his time and energy, and slowly, the calls became less frequent. The visits, fewer. Little by little, the relationship stopped being about staying close and became more about pretending you still were. The connection that once felt so strong started to feel more like an echo of something you used to have, fading with each passing day.
A knock at the door pulls you from your thoughts, snapping you out of the haze you’ve been lost in for who knows how long. You sigh, dragging yourself up from the bed and making your way to the door, not really in the mood for company but too curious to ignore it. When you open the door, Hamzah is standing there, leaning casually against the frame. In one hand, he’s holding a six-pack of your favorite drinks, the kind you only treat yourself to on rare occasions. In the other, his phone dangles loosely from his fingers, like he’s just texted someone and barely cares for a response.
His eyes meet yours, and that familiar, laid-back smile spreads across his face, effortless as always—like he’s walked into a room full of sunshine and not the quiet mess of your evening. There’s something comforting about the way he stands there, completely unfazed, as if he’s somehow known exactly when to show up, without being asked. For a moment, you forget the weight on your shoulders, caught up in the ease he carries with him.
“Thought you might need some company,” he says, stepping inside as if he’s been here a hundred times before. You smile, grateful for the distraction, and motion for him to follow you into the living room.
Hamzah and you have always existed in a quiet ease, a comfort that came naturally. As Jake’s closest friend, he’s been there from the very beginning, like a constant thread woven through your life. Over time, your friendship grew, effortless and warm, a steady presence you could rely on. But recently, something has shifted, subtle yet undeniable.
The space between you feels different now—heavier. You catch yourself watching him, eyes lingering just a moment too long, your breath catching in your throat before you force yourself to look away. His laughter, once part of the background noise, now pulls you in, and you find yourself laughing with him a little too easily, a little too hard, as if his words have suddenly gained new weight.
It’s in the silences, in the moments where nothing is said but everything is felt, that you notice it most—the quiet pull between you. It hums softly, growing stronger with each glance, each accidental touch. And though you try to push it aside, pretend it’s nothing, the truth sits quietly in the back of your mind: something between you has changed, something deeper, something that wasn’t there before.
You hand Hamzah a drink and settle beside him on the couch, the cushion sinking under your weight. The familiar ease of his presence wraps around you, comforting and safe.
The first few sips of your drink go down easily, the alcohol warming you from the inside, softening the edges of the day. For a while, conversation flows like it always does—effortless and light. You talk about work, the lives of mutual friends, stories from your past that spill out without much thought. It’s the kind of chatter that fills the spaces between you without demanding anything more, but with each passing moment, the tension in your chest begins to unravel, loosening its grip.
Your laughter, once cautious, comes more freely now, bubbling up between sips. You can feel the weight of the evening lifting, his presence anchoring you.
“So, what’s going on with Jake?” Hamzah asks eventually, his voice gentle but curious. He doesn’t push; he never does. That’s part of what makes him so easy to talk to.
You hesitate, unsure of how much to share. “He’s… busy. Work’s just been taking up all his time. I don’t even remember the last time we had a proper conversation,” you admit, your voice dropping. You look down at your drink, swirling it around in the can, avoiding Hamzah’s eyes.
He nods, listening closely, his eyes steady on yours as you speak. He doesn’t interrupt, his silence offering you space to pour out your thoughts without feeling pressured. It’s the kind of silence that feels intentional, like he’s holding the moment open just for you. “He’ll come around,” Hamzah says after a moment, though his tone is more hopeful than certain. There’s a pause before he adds, “But… you seem pretty distant yourself lately.”
You glance at him, surprised by his observation. “I guess I just… I don’t know. It’s hard to keep pretending everything’s fine when it doesn’t feel that way.”
The conversation shifts after that—lighter topics, old memories, shared jokes—and for a little while, you forget about your worries. Hamzah’s laughter is contagious, the way it always is, and every time you laugh, you find yourself leaning a little closer to him, your hand occasionally brushing against his arm as you gesture or fidget.
At one point, after an especially funny story, you’re both doubled over with laughter, your hand instinctively reaching for his arm to steady yourself. Your fingertips linger there just a little too long, resting against the warmth of his skin. You feel the heat of the contact pulse through you, and when you realize how long your hand has been there, you start to pull it away, but Hamzah doesn’t move. If anything, his arm tenses slightly under your touch.
You glance up at him, catching his eye. For a split second, you think about pulling away, about creating some distance between you. But you don’t. You stay there, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.
Another drink later, and the distance between you has all but disappeared. Hamzah leans back into the couch, turning slightly so he’s facing you, his knee brushing against yours. You feel the light pressure of his leg against yours and the buzz of alcohol making your head just a little light. You try to focus on the conversation, but all you can think about is how close he is—how close his hand is to yours, how you can feel his eyes on you, the tension thickening between you with every second of silence.
And then it happens— that disappearing moment when laughter gently fades, and the room falls into a gentle hush. The air shifts, the warmth of shared jokes now a distant memory. You turn to Hamzah, and your eyes meet his, catching him in a gaze that holds an unspoken truth. His smile has disappeared, replaced by an expression so intense it feels almost sacred, as if it taps into something beyond the everyday, something only the heavens might grasp.
In his eyes, you see a silent understanding, a raw vulnerability that makes you feel seen in a way you’ve rarely experienced. The space between you grows distant, the silence now a living thing, pulsating with the weight of what’s unspoken. The laughter that once filled the room seems like a distant echo, leaving behind a poignant stillness that amplifies the closeness between you. Each second stretches into eternity, and you find yourself enveloped in this heavenly feeling.
The tension, the feeling—it’s like something’s been building between you for weeks, maybe months, and now it’s come to a head.
You clear your throat, trying to shake the feeling. “I should probably head to bed soon,” you say, though part of you doesn’t want the night to end. Part of you doesn’t want this moment to end.
Hamzah hesitates, his gaze still locked on you, then nods slowly. “Yeah, it’s getting late.” But neither of you moves. The silence stretches on, thick and tense, and you realize just how close he’s sitting next to you. Too close.
Before you can stop yourself, the words escape. “Do you ever think…” you start, but the sentence dissolves, leaving the thought unfinished. You struggle to find the right way to complete it. Do you ever think about me the way I’ve been thinking about you?
Hamzah turns to face you completely, his eyes locked onto yours with a searching intensity. “Think about what?” he asks softly. Yet, in the depths of his gaze, you sense he already knows where your thoughts were leading, as if the question has been hovering in the space between you all along.
You open your mouth to say something, anything, but the words don’t come. Instead, you swallow it down, hoping only you can taste the tension burning in your throat.
But Hamzah leans in, moving slowly as if to give you every chance to pull back. His approach is cautious, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you might want him to stop. He pauses, close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin, his gaze darting between your eyes and your lips, weighing whether to close the distance or hold off.
You feel an almost magnetic pull, an irresistible urge that makes it impossible to move away. The closer he gets, the more intense your own desire becomes, pushing aside any doubts. You want this—more than you should, more than feels reasonable.
His lips brush against yours, a whisper of warmth, hesitant and gentle, as if he's waiting for you to retreat. But instead, you lean in, and the kiss deepens, a cascade of heat unfurling through you. His hand glides to your face, his fingers cradling your jaw with a scorching touch.
The kiss grows richer, more intense, each movement burning with a feeling that makes the room feel as though it's closing in around you. The intensity of his touch, the urgency of his lips, meld together to create a symphony of feeling-an outpouring of passion. Every lingering second becomes an expression of all that has been silently yearned for, flowing freely.
You pull back slightly, breathless, and whisper, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
Hamzah's eyes are dark, You've never seen them that way before. He hesitates for a moment, his thumb brushing gently across your cheek, and then he confesses, "I know we shouldn't... but fuck, I want you so bad."
His words penetrate through your fears, the last the walls of doubt crumbling. You know you should stop. You know this isn't right. But the way he looks right now, his dark eyes almost whispering and pleading for you. His tan skin decorated with a thin sheen of sweat. These feelings. They are too strong to ignore, now all you can think is how much you want him. How good he would feel above of you.
Hamzah's lips are soft and warm against yours, and as they touch again, a rush of heat floods through you. Everything else-the distance with Jake, the guilt, the confusion-fades into the background. His hand moves to the side of your face, his thumb brushing gently along your jawline, while his other arm wraps around your waist, pulling you closer. It feels like he's been holding back as much as you have, and now, in this moment, neither of you can resist.
Your heart races, your skin tingling everywhere he touches you. It feels like your body has come alive, like you've been craving this closeness for so long without realizing just how much you needed it.
Breaking away for air, you leaned your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily. "Hamzah, I need you. Fuck… I think I’ve always needed you" you whispered, your voice hoarse. Hamzah's hands traveled down your body, tracing the curves of your waist before resting on your hips, pulling you closer.
"You have no idea how beautiful you are," he murmured against your lips. "I've been dreaming of touching you, of feeling every inch of your skin." His words darting through your body, and you couldn't help but compare this moment to your experiences with Jake, your boyfriend. You'd never felt this desired, this wanted, not even in the early days of your relationship.
Hamzah's hands slid beneath your shirt, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your back with a feather-light touch. The warmth of his hands against your bare skin made you instinctively arch into his touch, a shiver of pleasure dancing through you.
"I want to make you feel good, so good that you forget about him” he murmured, his voice a low promise as his breath fanned over your neck, sending a trail of heat across your skin. His lips followed, planting a trail of kisses down your throat. When his lips reached the delicate spot where your neck meets your shoulder, he pressed gently, sucking with a tender, deliberate intensity. The sensation was almost too much to bear, and you gasped, your fingers clutching at his shoulders as if anchoring yourself against the wave of pleasure. The room seemed to shrink around you, leaving only the intimate space where his touch and your response melted in perfect harmony.
Guiding you backwards, Hamzah led you towards the bedroom, his kisses trailing down your body as he went. He knelt before you, his fingers softly unbuttoning your shirt, revealing your bra covered breasts, taking it off. "You're breathtaking, Jake doesn’t deserve you" he whispered, looking at you through his eyelashes, as he gently cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, making them harden against the cool air.
You let out a soft moan, feeling a rush of pleasure between your thighs as Hamzah's mouth claimed one nipple, his tongue swirling and sucking gently. His hands traveled down, tugging at your pants, sliding them down your legs until you stood before him in just your underwear.
His gaze lingered on you with as if he were beholding something otherworldly. Every curve and contour of your body seemed to draw his attention like a work of art displayed in a hallowed temple. His eyes traced your form gracefully. Each glance was a silent prayer, each sigh an acknowledgment of the divine grace he saw in you. In his eyes, you were not just flesh and bone, but a living embodiment of something ethereal.
"Lie down," he instructed, his voice blending urgency with tenderness. You complied, your heart abusing your ribcage with its intensity as you watched him remove his clothes. Each movement was purposeful, revealing a physique crafted with an artist's precision. His chest glistened with sweat under the soft light.
He joined you on the bed, his body’s warmth contrasting with the cool sheets. His hands, free from the confines of fabric, reached out with a gentle touch. Fingers traced the curve of your thighs with a gentle grace, as if mapping an uncharted secret world. Slowly, deliberately, he spread your legs. His touch, firm and tender. Each caress, each shift of position, forced a sound to push its way out of your lungs.
"I want to taste you," he whispered, his hot breath spilling over you. "I want to make you come with my mouth." With that, he lowered his head, his tongue tracing your slit through the cotton. You whimpered, feeling the damp fabric against your sensitive clit, and then he pulled the fabric aside, exposing you.
Hamzah's tongue descended into your wetness, rough and insistent. He licked and tasted everything that was softly spilling out of you, his lips sucking gently on your swollen clit. You squirmed beneath him, your hands tangling in his curly hair, pushing him in deeper. He moaned against you, the vibrations forcing your legs to shake.
"Oh God, Hamzah," you cried out, your hips bucking against his mouth. He continued to feast on your pussy, his tongue flicking and probing, discovering every inch of you. You were so close, so close to reaching a rush of ecstasy, when he suddenly stopped, leaving you gasping and desperate.
"Please, don't stop," you begged, your voice quivering.
"I want you to come with my cock inside you," he growled, his deep eyes blazing with desire. He rose looking down at you with an insatiable need. His attention was almost primal. Positioned over you with an assertive dominance, he seem consumed by an urgent hunger. There’s an unsettling edge—an impatient urgency that brushes aside any sense of gratitude. He positioned himself between your thighs, his hard length pressing against your entrance. You feel him against your clit, your body responding with uneven gasps of air. With one smooth thrust, he filled you, stretching and filling you in a way you'd never experienced before.
Hamzah began to move, his hips snapping forward as he set a relentless pace. He plunged into you again and again, his cock hitting far deep within you, stretching you far beyond what you thought was possible. You cried out, your body on fire, every nerve alight with euphoria.
"You feel so fucking good," he exhaled forcefully, his voice shaking slightly. "So fucking good..."
His words echoing in your head as you met his thrusts, wrapping your legs around his waist, pushing him even deeper. You felt that rush of pleasure in your belly, tighter and more intense than you'd ever experienced.
"I'm close," you whispered, your voice breathless. "Oh God, Hamzah, I'm so close..."
He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing circles as he pounded into you. The combination of sensations pushed you over the edge, and you cried out his name as your orgasm erupted through you. You clenched around his cock, draining him as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body.
Hamzah groaned, his body stiffening as he exhausted himself deep within you. He collapsed onto your heaving chest, his breath warm against your sensitive nipples. You lay there, entangled in each other's arms, your hearts racing and your bodies glistening with sweat.
The room is quiet now, the air thick with the weight of everything that just happened. You lie beside Hamzah, the warmth of his body still lingering on your skin, your mind spinning in a thousand directions at once. The adrenaline from earlier has faded, replaced by a strange sense of calm, like the world has paused for a moment to let you catch your breath. But even in the silence, the reality of what you’ve done echoes heavy between you.
Hamzah lies on his back, one arm wrapped protectively around you, drawing you close against his chest. His other hand moves with a gentle, absent-minded rhythm, tracing soothing circles on your bare shoulder. The room feels almost too still, the darkness pressing in with an oppressive quietness, and in this silence, your thoughts begin to churn once more.
You shift slightly, resting your head against his chest, finding reassurance in the steady, reassuring cadence of his breathing. For what feels like an eternity, neither of you speaks, both caught in the reflective pause. As the minutes stretch into an uneasy quiet, the weight of reality—the consequences of what has happened—begins to press in, casting long shadows over the fleeting warmth and intimacy you once felt.
“I don’t know what to do,” you whisper, your voice barely audible in the quiet room. The weight of the situation presses down on you—Jake, your relationship, what this means for everything.
Hamzah tightens his grip around you. He tilts his head down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. His lips linger there for a moment before he whispers, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure it out.”
His voice is soothing, but it’s not enough to stop the growing anxiety building inside you. How can you not worry? Everything has changed now. You didn’t just cross a line—you shattered it. And as much as you want to stay in this moment, wrapped up in Hamzah’s warmth, you can’t ignore the reality that waits outside this room.
But for now, you let yourself sink into the comfort of his embrace, trying to quiet the noise in your head. You close your eyes, trying to let yourself believe, if only for a few more minutes, that everything will be okay.
And then your phone buzzes on the nightstand.
The sound cuts through the quiet room like a blade, pulling you back to the present. You freeze, your heart in your throat as you reach for the phone, dreading what you might see on the screen.
Your hand trembles as you pick it up, and your breath catches in your throat when you see Jake’s name flash across the screen.
“I’m outside. Can we talk?”
── ⊹ ࣪ ˖☆˖ ࣪ ⊹ ──
notes: i’m quite proud of this fic and i hope you guys love it!! comment any suggestions for what you liked and i’ll make a note of it!! :]