You loved your life. Your home, your animals, your friends, your youtube channel, everything. There was nothing about your life that irked you. Except for one thing. Him. Hamzah. You had become friends with Mandy over two years ago, over similar interests and styles of youtube channels, and had met Hamzah about six months into your friendship with her. You had never met somebody like him before. You got along with everyone, even if they slightly pissed you off, you were able to stomach their presence and create minimal amounts of respectable small talk. But not with Hamzah. In fact, when you were first invited over to Mandy’s house for a party and heard he was going to be there, you were excited. You had seen his online presence and thought he was funny, charming, and kind, only to find out upon meeting him that the complete opposite was the truth. He was awkward, and weird, and nothing at all like you thought he would be. The two of you were unable to mesh a single comfortable conversation together and, since then, you had effectively avoided him like the plague.

The angry tension between the two of you finally exploded one Friday night. You had been invited to dinner at Mandy’s house, and you were ecstatic. You imagined your night playing out with the two of you cooking and baking delicious food, sharing some with Martin in his man-cave, then diving into the delicacies in front of a cozy fall movie. What you did not expect was Hamzah to be there.

“Hey, y/n!” Mandy said excitedly, as she opened the door and welcomed you into her home. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Oh my god,” you said, grasping her hands in yours. “You have no idea! I’ve been looking forward to it all day.” You took your shoes off before following the brunette into the kitchen. The two of you were laughing and talking until you stopped dead in the middle of the kitchen, starting out towards the living room. Two male heads were positioned together on the couch, one with straight, almost black, locks and the other with luscious, dark curls. You would recognize those curls anywhere. Shit.

You grabbed Mandy by her forearm and whispered in her ear, “I didn’t know he would be here.”

“Who?” she asked cluelessly, swiveling her head to where your wide-eyed gaze was fixated upon. “Oh, right…Hamzah. Martin and him filmed a video today and he’s not leaving until later. I’m so sorry, y/n. I really tried to get him out of the house, but he insisted on staying for dinner.” You knew that Hamzah liked to rile you up, he made it abundantly clear whenever the two of you would have a conversation.

“He just wants to piss me off,” you responded. “It’s okay. We can just ignore them and have fun.” Mandy smiled at you. The two of you began gathering items and ingredients from around the kitchen to make the dinner. You had decided on making fettuccine alfredo with broccoli and chicken over text with pumpkin cream cheese cupcakes for dessert. The two of you labored over the pasta for almost an hour, laughing and giggling over every single thing. The boys mainly kept to themselves, occasionally laughing softly at the game they were playing on the TV. You paused from stirring the cheesy sauce, simmering softly in the pan.

“You can go ahead and combine this sauce with the pasta, Mandy,” you said, nudging the brunette girl with your elbow. “I’m going to head to the bathroom real quick.” You went to the bathroom down the hall and completed your business, flushing the toilet and washing your hands. As you exited the bathroom, you ran right into a pair of broad, muscular shoulders. You look up, an apology bubbling from your lips, until you meet a pair of wide, dark eyes: Hamzah. His eyes narrow and his brow furrows. Your lips curl into a sneer, the close proximity of him causing hot, red anger to flare in your chest. The two of you attempt to get around each other, moving in sync. This annoying act continued until Hamzah’s large hands grip your waist and practically lifted you up, moving you out of his way. He continued down the hallway to the guest room without looking back, leaving you stunned into silence in the middle of the hallway. Your waist tingled lightly where his hands had touched you. The way his large hands were able to almost completely engulf your waist, followed by how effortlessly he had lifted you, caused inappropriate, unwanted thoughts to flow through your mind. You shook your head, internally scolding yourself for your rash behavior. When you reunited with Mandy in the kitchen, she gave you a confused look.

“You okay?” she asked. No doubt your silent demeanor and red face giving away some of your internal embarrassment.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you responded, unconvincingly.

“You sure?” she pressed. “I saw Hamzah leave and I just thought–”

“Yes!” you snapped, cutting her off. “I am perfectly fine.” You ran a hand through your hair and Mandy laughed, shaking her head at your idiocy.

“If you say so, girl.” The night continued smoothly once you had calmed yourself down from your strained interaction with Hamzah. The pasta was cheesy and delicious, followed by the brownies which were sweet and rich with chocolate. Mandy shared the brownies with the two boys, Martin full of compliments and praise for the two of you, while Hamzah enjoyed his in silence, glancing at you every so often with a wide-eyed stare that made you feel both uncomfortable and anxious. Throughout the night, Martin and Mandy exchanged coy looks, giggling under their breath at something that seemed to you like an inside joke, but you were unsure. Finally, you reached your breaking point, and blurted out your confusion at the couple’s strange attitude.

“What the hell are you two plotting?” you asked. The couple exchanged a knowing look, smirking at each other.

“Plotting?” Mandy repeated. “We’re not plotting anything.”

“I know you are,” you said. 

To your utter surprise, Hamzah chimed in in agreement. “Yeah,” he said, mouth full of brownie. “You’re both acting so weird. What’s going on?”

Mandy gave Martin another weird look, the two nodding at each other in joint agreement. “Well…” Mandy said. “There’s this movie that Martin and I have been dying to see and it comes out today. We’re going to leave to see it now.”

“And we know that the two of you have some unsettled differences,” Martin chimed in. “So while we go out to see this movie, the two of you are going to stay here and figure them out.”

“Are you serious, Mandy?” you said, exasperation at this situation obvious in your voice. You glanced at Hamzah who had undeniable shock plastered all over his face. “No…” you said, as the couple began to pack up their things and pull their shoes on in quick succession. “No, no, you’re not doing this.”

“We’ll just leave the house, Martin,” Hamzah said.

“We’re locking the two of you in,” the brunette replied. “You’re not getting out this easy. The way you two absolutely despise each other pisses us off. So, you’re both not leaving until you have established some sort of mutual camaraderie or something like it. Understand?” You and Hamzah stood up from the table in protest, but it was too late, Mandy and Martin left the house in sync, locking the door from the outside. The two of you were trapped, together and alone, for an uncomfortable, inestimable amount of hours. You let out a sigh of pure frustration, understanding that the following couple of hours were going to be the most uncomfortable and angry you had felt in a while.

“Well, shit,” Hamzah said, sitting back down and folding his arms across his broad chest.

You rolled your eyes. “This is fucking ridiculous,” you said. “There’s no way I’m doing this.” You get up and pace the wooden floor, head lowered as you think of all the ways you could escape Hamzah and his brown-eyed gaze that you could feel following your every move.

“Oh, come on,” he said, standing up from his seat. He moved in front of you, blocking your path, looking down at you with a facetious smirk that boiled your blood. “It can’t be that bad.”

“Oh, trust me,” you said, maneuvering around the larger man. “It can and it is.” Hamzah reached out, fast as lightning, and grabbed your forearm. The slight touch sent undeniable shivers down your spine, which you hated. He turned you around to face him, the two of you inches from one another. You gazed down at his hand, still wrapped around your forearm.

“Am I really that detestable to you, y/n?” he asked, voice at a decibel so low you had to crane your ears to even hear him. The inches between the two of you began closing, his eyes—so brown they looked black—drawing you closer. Dark, seductive images flitted through your mind: Hamzah’s large hands gripping your waist, his lips on your neck, hands fisting your hair, gripping your throat, touching your cunt. Shocked, you wretch your forearm out of his grasp.

“Yes,” you breathed out, chest heaving, mind reeling from your stupid imagination and wandering mind. “You are that detestable.”

“Really?” Hamzah asked, voice no louder than a whisper. You realized as your back hit the wall that he had backed you into a both physical and mental corner. You gulped as he drew closer and closer. “Because—I think—you like to think of me as something more than just detestable.”

“I don’t like to think of you at all, Hamzah,” you said, skin burning as his dark eyes remained locked on yours, unyielding in their direct gaze.

“You don’t?” he said, scoffing. He leaned closer, lips practically brushing yours. His large hands maneuver to grip your waist, and you don’t even try to stop him. “Not at all, huh. Not even at night, when you’re alone in your bed.” His grip on your waist tightened and shockwaves of undeniable pleasure flash through your spine like needles. “Cause I do. All the fucking time.” You look up at him, eyes widened in shock. He curses, the grip on your waist tightening so hard you thought it would bruise. “Don’t,” he said, voice rough and gravely. “Don’t fucking look at me like that…or I’m going to do something we both will regret.”

You had never expected to feel this way about Hamzah. But seeing him—a man so stupid and narcissistic and haughty—reduced to this…reduced to a quivering mess of a man with needy desperation written all over him, you felt that you couldn’t help yourself. You whimpered as your core tightened. Your back brushed the wall and Hamzah leaned impossibly closer, chest brushing against your own.

“Tell me,” he said. “Tell me you don’t want this.” You froze, the repeated words brushing your lips, bubbling up inside you. But you couldn’t lie. You couldn’t say them. For deep down inside you, in a place you had buried since you got to know him, lay the dirty, red-hot truth. You wanted him too, equally as bad. Your shaking hands, puppeteered not by your brain, but by that stupid feeling deep in your heart, reached up to intertwine behind Hamzah’s neck, grasping at the delicate curls at his nape. Hamzah’s eyes widened at the realization that you weren’t backing away.

“I can’t,” you confessed. Hamzah, lips quivering with desire, leaned closer, brushing your soft and plush mouth with his own. Unable to contain your palpitating desire, you tightened your grip on his curls and pulled him into you, pressing your lips violently together. Your lips locked together, a wet mess of tongue and spit as you desperately clung to each other. Hamzah’s hands ran up and down your body, unsure of what part of you he wanted to touch first, desperate for everything, all at once. He separated from your lips, and you let out a needy, unfiltered whine at the lack of contact. Hamzah began kissing down your neck, suckling on that sweet spot behind your ear that made you cry out in pleasure.

“You have no idea,” he whispered, in between open-mouthed kisses planted on your neck. “You have no fucking idea what you do to me.” You whimpered at the blunt confession, hands yanking at his curls. His hands grabbed at your ass, lifting you up effortlessly as you wrapped your legs around his waist. Hamzah roughly pushed you up against the wall, lips connecting with your own again. You yanked at his t-shirt and he paused his motions, pulling it over his head and throwing it somewhere in the room. You came face-to-face with his body, ribbed and muscular from his time in the gym, while also maintaining enough tummy to make your thighs squeeze together. You mirror his movements, pulling your tanktop off and shucking your sweats down your legs, leaving you in your bra and underwear. Hamzah looks at you starstruck.

“Holy shit,” he whispered, reaching to grasp at your covered tits. “You’re even prettier than I imagined.” You giggled slightly, a gesture that never occurred to you would happen with Hamzah. Hamzah sunk down to his knees, leaving little kisses along your stomach and the underside of your tits. Kissing and biting your inner thighs, he dragged your underwear down your legs, mouth agape as you came face-to-face with your soaking cunt. He looked up at you with wide eyes, pupils dilated, and you felt your knees weaken. Hamzah grabbed one of your thighs after the other, wrapping your legs around his shoulders practically sitting on him, leaning against the wall. He continued to leave little kisses along your legs, suckling purple bruises onto your inner thighs.

“Hamzah–” you whine, tightening your grip in his curls.

“Use your words, y/n,” he said, looking up at you through his thick eyelashes.

“I need you,” you say, your desperation overwhelming your embarrassment and confusion. Hamzah smirked up at you, before shoving his head deep between your thighs. He licked a long strip up your folds, holding eye contact with you, before circling his tongue around your clit. As his tongue connected with your sensitive bud, you let out a long moan, head tilting back against the wall. Hamzah ate you out like it was his last meal, licking, sucking, and slurping your juices in a constant state of desperation for more. You felt yourself coming closer and closer to your climax, hands tightening his hair as his nose rubbed deep into your clit. You came with a cry, legs shaking around his head as you shuddered and convulsed, white spots bedazzling your vision.

Hamzah lifted you up, wrapping your legs back around his waist and kissed you, mouth stained with your juices. You tasted yourself on his tongue and moaned at the feel of his tongue poking its way into your mouth.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he whispered. “You have no idea how bad I wanted you.”

“Hamzah—” you panted. “I need you inside of me.” He reached down into his pants, pulling out his hard member, stroking it a few times before rubbing it up and down your wet folds. He slid into you with a gasp, the two of you moaning at the feel of him sheathed inside of you. He began slowly thrusting in and out of you, the stretch of his thick cock inside your cunt drawing whimpers from deep in your throat. While your eyes rolled back into your head from the pleasure, Hamzah never broke eye contact.

“God, you’re such a fucking slut,” he said. “You hate me, huh?”

You whimper in response.

“Yeah, you hate me…but you’re still here, being fucked by this cock, huh?” You couldn’t respond, the only sound flowing from you being heady whines and high-pitched moans. You felt yourself inching closer towards another release, one of your hands reaching between your legs to rub your clit. One of Hamzah’s hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing slightly, you realized with a jolt that he was holding you up with one hand. The fact that this man could hold you up and fuck you so good with just the strength of one arm made your core tighten.

“I–I’m gonna cum, Hamzah,” you manage to cry out, dangerously tipping on the precipice of release.

“Oh, yeah?” Hamzah responded breathlessly. “You gonna cum, baby? Shit. Cum for me, pretty girl.” You cum with a strangled yelp falling from your lips. 

“Good girl,” Hamzah moaned out, hips beginning to stutter. “Good girl, so pretty, so fucking pretty for me.” Your hands grabbed onto his curls tightly, yanking as you came down from your high. The feel of his dark strands being pulled so tightly sent Hamzah over the edge. Hips stuttering as he came, head buried deep into your neck, he let out a flurry of whimpers and praises. The two of you sat there for a minute, Hamzah breathing heavily into your neck. Just then, you heard the jangle and clank of keys outside of the door. Hamzah’s eyes locked onto yours, wide with shock and fear.

“Shit,” you say. Untangling your limbs, the two of you rushed to dress in five seconds flat. You threw yourselves onto the couch, sitting on opposite ends just as Mandy and Martin opened the door and returned.

“The cinema was closed, guys,” Martin announced as he took off his coat and boots, Mandy close behind him. “Did you at least make up though?”

“Yeah, we did,” Hamzah responded, voice still rough and breathless. The couple finally came into your view, cheeks and ears red from the outside wind. You knew that the two of you were a strange sight: clothes rumpled, cheeks flushed with embarrassment and something dirtier. You also knew that, ever the observer, it would be Mandy to notice.

“Oh my god!” she said, covering her shocked face with a hand. “OH MY GOD, MARTIN!” She yanked on his sleeve, jumping up and down.

“What?!” he asked. “I don’t get it.”

You and Hamzah had been roommates and best friends for around four months now. It all started when you moved to Toronto and needed a place to stay. You had collabed with Slushy Noobz multiple times before, being a vlogger/gaming youtuber yourself, so when you arrived in Toronto, practically homeless, Hamzah offered for you to stay with him in his small apartment while you get yourself back on your feet.

Tonight was a crisp fall evening, and the two of you had just come back from carving pumpkins for Mandy’s vlog. Hamzah had driven the two of you home in silence, which was unusual, as normally the two of you were blasting music and laughing while in the car. When he pulled into the small driveway, he killed the engine and exited the car without a word. Normally, being the silly gentleman he was, he would come around to your side and open the door, but instead, he opted to leave you alone in the car, speechless. You scoffed, and exited the car, running to catch up with the taller man.

“Hamzah!” you call out, entering the house. The dark-haired man was in the kitchen, rifling through the cabinets for what you assumed to be his late-night snack-fest. “Hamzah,” you deadpanned, coming up right behind him. He continued to purposefully ignore you. You grab one of his broad shoulders and, with all the strength within you, whip him around so that he’s facing you. His big eyes widened at the sudden strength that had taken over your demeanor.

He looked down at you. “What?” he asked harshly, not a single trace of empathy present in his rough voice.

Anger seized your mind. “What?” you mocked in a high-pitched voice. “What the fuck do you mean by ‘What’? What is up with you, dude? You’ve had, like, the strangest attitude since we left Martin and Mandy’s.”

Hamzah’s brows furrowed. “Just go upstairs, y/n,” he said. “I’m too tired to deal with this right now.” 

You laughed harshly. “You’re ‘too tired’?” you asked in mock disbelief, air-quoting his own words. “That’s not an excuse. You’re never this rude to me.”

Hamzah made a noise low in his throat, almost an animalistic growl. “Go the fuck upstairs, y/n.”

His adamance and unwillingness to explain himself was starting to really piss you off, the small ember of anger burning inside you expanding until you were engulfed in hot rage. You shoved him backwards and he stumbled, catching himself on the edge of the sink. He looked at you with an emotion in his eyes that you were unable to discern. Before you were able to really process what the hell had just happened, Hamzah was upright and closed the inches between you two in seconds. He grabbed you by the front of your hoodie, before roughly backing you into the counter. Your hip slammed into the corner of the wood and you winced. Tears welled up in your eyes, but Hamzah didn’t seem to notice. He was breathing heavily, hunched over your smaller frame, face inches from yours.

“I want you to go upstairs, y/n,” he said, voice uncharacteristically low.

“Ugh!” you say loudly, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You shoved the taller man backwards. “That fucking hurt, you asshole!” Before you know what happened, your hand connected with his face, a loud slap that resonated throughout the whole apartment. Hamzah’s head whipped to the side and his eyes widened, his hand instantly reaching to the wounded area. You gasped and covered your mouth. 

“H-hamzah,” you whispered, stuttering over your words. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I swear, i-i-it just came out of me.” Hamzah looked at you with that same look from before: pupils dilated, cheeks flushed, plush lips that his tongue flicked out and wetted. His chest was heaving up and down. He made a move as if to come towards you, but before he could, you fled upstairs to your room.

You slammed the door shut behind you before sliding down to crouch on the floor. You curled your knees into your chest and breathed heavily. What the absolute fuck just happened? Your back was sweating, and there was a pounding knot in your stomach that you didn’t even want to think about. The way Hamzah had looked at you…fuck. It was almost primal, like he was about to throw you around and fuck you until you couldn’t breath. It was embarrassing to admit it to yourself, but you wanted him to; you wanted it so badly that right now you couldn’t think of anything else, and that pounding in your stomach just got louder and louder.

You shook your head and stood up, legs trembling with desire. What the hell am I thinking about right now? You thought. This is Hamzah, my roommate, the guy who was kind enough to let me live with him for four fucking months, and I’m over here fantasizing about him railing me. What the fuck is wrong with me?

You went over to your closet and changed out of your sweaty clothes. You put on a cute pair of floral boxer shorts and one of Hamzah’s t-shirts. You liked wearing them for two reasons: first, they were way too big on you and usually fell to just above your knees, and second, they smelled just like him, even after washing. You wandered over to the mirror, gazing at yourself in the reflection. You pulled on his shirt, lifting it up to your nose and inhaling his musk. Your own dilated eyes reflected back at you, almost the exact same look that Hamzah had given you earlier.

Fuck it.

You exited your room and beelined it for Hamzah’s. Your mind was blank except for an unquenchable lust that infiltrated your brain, conjuring inappropriate thoughts that fueled the incessant pounding in your cunt. You reached his door and pressed your ear to the wood. Hearing the tell-tale clack of his keyboard, you knew that he was working at his desk. You knocked on the door, once, twice, nobody answered. Knowing him, he probably had his big ass headphones on and couldn’t hear shit even if he wanted to. You opened the door a crack and, just like you predicted, Hamzah was sitting at his desk in the dark with his big headphones on, the only source of light coming from the monitor. You crept up to him. His big eyes were glued to the screen; he didn’t even hear you come in. You leaned down until you were right next to his ear.

“Hamzah,” you whispered. The curly-haired man almost jumped out of his seat, letting out a girlish scream. When he saw it was you, he clutched his heart, breathing heavily.

“Hey,” you said, once he took his headphones fully off.

“Jesus Christ, y/n, you scared the fuck outta me,” he said.

You giggled. “Yeah, my bad. I didn’t know how else to get your attention,” you said sheepishly. Hamzah was looking directly into your eyes, and you swallowed thickly. “Look, I just wanted to apologize for earlier, slapping you and shit, I don’t know what came over me.”

Hamzah laughed. “Nah, I totally deserved it. I was being a dick. I was just pissed off about something and I took it out on you.” He licked his lips. “I didn’t mean to get aggressive with you is all.”

“What were you so pissed off about?”

Hamzah chuckled awkwardly. “It was nothing really.”

“Didn’t seem like nothing,” you responded, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. “Come on, man, we tell each other everything.”

“Well, it was just about this conversation I had earlier with Martin,” he confessed.

“Oh, yeah? What happened?”

“Um, well, I-” he stuttered over his words, alternating between holding eye contact with you and the floor. “I kinda like this girl, I guess, and I keep giving her these hints but she just doesn’t seem to understand.”

Your face flushed. You felt embarrassed walking into Hamzah’s room in a horny state when he had a crush on someone else. “I see,” you said in response to his confession.

“I was talking it over with Martin, you know, and I just couldn’t figure out how to confess it to her. We’re friends and I love that we’re friends and it would be stupid to fuck up our friendship by confessing my feelings.”

“How do you know she doesn’t feel the same?” you asked.

“I mean I don’t, not really, but I’m 99% sure that she doesn’t.”

“Well, you’re never gonna be 100% sure unless you tell her,” you said. “Besides, whoever this girl is is hella lucky. She’s going to be dating the most beautiful, funniest guy I know.” Hamzah grinned at you, teeth and everything, as his cheeks flushed slightly.

“Really?”

“100%” you responded.

“Can I have a hug?” he asked. You grinned at him, jumping up from the bed. Hamzah lept up from his chair and ran to you. He leaned down and you wrapped your hands around his neck. His big arms gripped your waist and lifted you up, spinning you around. You giggled into his shoulder. He put you down and the two of you stood there for a second, arms wrapped around each other. Hamzah’s head nuzzled deeper into your shoulder, and you felt his hot breath tickling your back.

A wide grin broke your face. “Dude, are you smelling me?”

Hamzah broke away from the hug, grinning sheepishly. “Maybe…you just always smell really good.” His eyes looked you up and down, grazing your bare legs to the t-shirt you were wearing. “Is that my shirt?” he asked, brows furrowed.

Bashful, you felt your face growing flushed. “Yeah, it is. I can take it off if you want though.” You turned towards the door to go change, but Hamzah reached down and grabbed your hand, stopping you. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said. “Looks good on you.”

You felt your face heat with an uncontrollable flush. “U-um thanks,” you said. Hamzah didn’t let go of your hand and you looked down at your intertwined fingers. Hamzah looked down too and audibly gulped.

“Y/n?” he said.

“Mmh?” you said, not taking your eyes off of your hands.

“Look at me, y/n,” Hamzah said, his voice rougher than usual. You lifted your eyes to Hamzah’s face and almost gasped at the expression that painted his countenance. It was the same one from earlier: the dilated pupils, the flushed cheeks, the plump, red lips. Your lashes fluttered. Hamzah grabbed your other hand and, holding both of your hands in one of his big ones, reached up to tuck a piece of hair that had fallen from your bun behind your ear. “I need to tell you something,” he whispered. His big brown eyes bore holes into your own, and the intense eye contact made your hands sweaty and your core pound. 

“I, um, I’m in love with you, y/n,” he confessed, at a decibel so low you were unsure you heard him right. He got louder. “And if you don’t feel the same about me—which you probably don’t—we can forget about this whole thing and just go back to how things were if that’s—” You cut off his rambling and leaned up, pressing your lips against his. You pulled back and smiled, gazing into his eyes, which were so dark they looked black. “Holy fuck,” he breathed out, smiling widely, the corners of his eyes crinkling in pure delight.

“Yeah,” you said. “Holy fuck.”

Hamzah looked down at your hands, which were still intertwined with his. “C-can I kiss you again?” he asked.

You giggled. “Yes, Hamzah,” you responded. If it was possible, he smiled wider still and leaned in, pressing his lips against yours. At first, the kiss was sweet and light, but slowly, the two of you began breathing heavier and heavier, and Hamzah’s hands began to roam your body. Desperation filled your body rapidly as Hamzah’s hands alternated between squeezing your waist, your hips, and your ass. His hands were so much bigger than you thought, they were almost able to completely engulf your entire waist. He pulled you closer to him still and you reached up to tug on his dark curls. As soon as your hand made contact with his hair, he groaned deep in his chest and the sound reverberated throughout your entire body, landing especially in your throbbing core. The hand in his hair seemed to spur him on further as he reached down to grab your ass, lifting you up effortlessly. He walked you over to the bed, throwing you onto the mattress and crawling up towards you. He pulled your hair out of your bun, letting the strands splay across the pillow.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he confessed, before diving down to kiss your neck. Sucking and biting and nipping at the delicate skin by your collarbones. Your hands delve into his curls, yanking at them, letting out a breathless moan when he begins to suck on a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear. Hamzah’s hands snake underneath your shirt, playing with the underside of your boobs. You tug at Hamzah’s shirt and he stops kissing you to remove it. You spent a few seconds admiring him. He’d been going to the gym more recently and it had definitely paid off. His broad shoulders and biceps were lean and muscular, but he still had just the right amount of tummy to make your core tighten. You sit up too and begin to take your shirt off, but Hamzah stops you.

“Keep it on, baby,” he says, breathing heavily. “You look so good in my clothes.” He goes back to kissing your neck, reaching his hands underneath your shirt to squeeze your tits. “I’ve always thought that,” he says in between kisses. “Whenever I see you wearing my clothes, my shirts, my hoodies, it made me so fucking hard I can’t think straight.” You let out a breathless moan at his words. He abruptly stops kissing your neck and stands up.

You look up in confusion. “What are you doing?” Hamzah says nothing, reaching down to grab your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed, your knees dangling over the edge. He kneels between your thighs, leaning down to press soft open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs.

You suck in a sharp breath. “Hamzah,” you say breathlessly.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you from between your thighs, eyes wide and dilated. He looked like he was salivating, desperation written all over his face.

“Are you sure?”

He lifted one of your thighs onto your shoulder. “Ever since we first met, when I saw you for the first time, your big eyes, your little waist, I knew that I wanted to taste you. Half of the time I’m around you, I can’t think of anything else other than fucking you with my tongue, your hands gripping my hair until you cum on my mouth.”

“Holy fuck,” you breathed out, your core throbbing almost painfully. Hamzah just grinned at you. He lifted your t-shirt up slightly and slid his fingers into the waistband of your boxers before pulling them down and throwing them somewhere in the room. Coming face-to-face with you soaking pussy, he exhaled the breath he’d been holding in.

“Shit,” he said. “You’re so fucking wet.” He leaned into your pussy, shoving his big nose into your folds and inhaling your scent. You let out a hiss at the sudden contact. He lapped at your cunt, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking it with his deft tongue. “You taste better than I dreamed, baby,” he confessed. Your head was flung back in ecstasy and your hands reached down to grip onto his curls. When he hit a particularly good spot, you tugged on his hair tightly and he let out a moan that vibrated through your core. You looked down at Hamzah whose doe eyes were holding intense eye contact with you, watching your reaction for what felt good and what didn’t. You noticed that his hips were undulating, thrusting into sheets at the end of the bed. For some reason, it made the situation even hotter that Hamzah was turned on just by eating you out. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer to release as your legs began shaking aggressively.

“H-Hamzah,” you whine. “Ugh, I’m close.”

Hamzah inserted one, then two fingers into your wet, overstimulated hole, rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Come on, baby,” he said roughly. “C-cum for me.” Your legs shaking and nose scrunched, you cried out and came all over Hamzah’s face. The second he felt you cum he let out a long whine that vibrated throughout your overstimulated pussy, and you noticed his hips slow to a stutter at the end of the bed.

“Holy shit, Hamzah,” you said, as you came down from your high. You looked down at the dark-haired man. He was breathing heavily and his eyes were glossy. A mixture of spit and your own juices covered his mouth and you felt another throb go through your core.

“Hamzah?” you repeated.

He looked up at you with those glossy eyes as if just remembering where he was. “Shit, y/n,” he responded.

“Hamzahhhhh,” you whined, crawling towards him near the end of the bed. “Will you let me return the favor?”

“I- um, I-I mean,” he stuttered, face flushing a deep shade of pink. You reached the end of the bed and noticed the dark, wet splotch spreading in his pants. Holy shit. You thought. He came from eating me out. That’s…that’s really fucking hot. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly, standing up to clean himself off. You shoot to your feet, grabbing the hand that was about to enter his pants.

For weeks, you had been losing your underwear. You would put your clothes in the washer, then the dryer, but by the time you got back to your room and folded your clothes, one, or sometimes two, pairs of your panties were missing. It was concerning, to say the least. However, when you lost your favorite pair (pink cotton with white lace and bows), you began to get frustrated.

“Hamzah?” you ask your roommate while he’s in the kitchen getting snacks.

“Mmh?” he responds, mouth full with doritos.

“Kind of a weird question—I mean, you probably have no fucking clue—but have you seen my panties anywhere? I can’t find them.”

At the mention of panties, Hamzah’s cheeks flush a light shade of pink. “Panties?!” he asks, mouth still full. He swallows thickly. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. What do they look like?”

“Um-” you felt yourself blush a light shade of pink, thinking about how embarrassing it was talking about your panties with your hella attractive roommate. “They’re pink and white—bows too.”

If possible, Hamzah flushed an even deeper shade of red. “O-oh, no. No. I haven’t seen them anywhere,” he huffed out an awkward laugh, looking anywhere else in the room but your eyes.

“That’s okay,” you say, giggling awkwardly. The tension palpable in the room. “Just…you know, if you do see them, let me know.”

—

Later that week, after getting home early from a party, you were met with the most surprising of circumstances. You entered your apartment and kicked off your shoes; the 4-inch heels had killed your feet. Every light in the apartment was off—save for the small light emanating from the clocks on the oven and microwave—and it was dead silent. Eerily silent. You knew that Hamzah was home, I mean, he never left. But it was only 11pm, which was way too early for him to go to bed. You at least expected to hear him typing on his computer, or hear the faint sound of his laptop playing a show, or hear him yelling at whatever stupid game he was playing with Martin. But no. Absolutely nothing.

Just then you heard it. Although you weren’t exactly sure what “it” was. A faint, but deep, groan, as if someone was crying out in pain. You strained your ears, listening for that noise again. There! There it was again, the exact same noise, although this time you could hear a faint squeaking following the groan.

“Hamzah,” you hesitantly call out. You creeped forwards in the direction of his bedroom. The deep sounds followed by squeaking got louder as you neared his room. The door was ajar and you peeked through the crack. You almost let out a loud gasp at the sight before you, clapping your hands over your mouth to prevent any noise from escaping your lips. Hamzah was stretched out on his bed, head tilted back as he thrust his cock into his hand. You shot back from the door, face reddening. You felt embarrassed for staring so unabashedly at the dark-haired man in such an intimate situation. Even so, you felt a throbbing deep in your core and you knew that if you reached down to touch your panties beneath your dress, you would be soaking wet. Slowly, mentally slapping yourself, you peered through the crack in the door again. Hamzah’s head was tilted back in pure ecstasy, pretty lips spilling whines and groans as the bed squeaked with every thrust into his hand. You watched, panties growing wetter by the second, as he reached next to him and brought a piece of fabric up to his nose, inhaling deeply and letting out a heady whine. Your eyes widened as you recognized the slip of fabric as your favorite pair of panties. The pink ones with the white lace. 

Your name spills from his lips, eyes rolling back into his head. Holy fuck. You sat on your knees, rolling your wet folds against the palm of your hand. You couldn’t believe the sight before your eyes. Your roommate—who you’ve had a crush on since moving in with him—was jerking off to you, your underwear pressed deeply into his nose. Hamzah’s hips stuttered, edging dangerously close to release.

“F-fuck, y/n,” he whimpered. “S-so good. So fucking pretty. G-gonna, gonna cum, shit.” At this desperate confession, a high-pitched whine escaped your parted lips and your eyes widened, clapping your hands over your mouth. Hamzah abruptly stopped his motions, whipping his head in the direction of the unprecedented sound. His glossy eyes met yours, fucked-out expression directly mirroring your own.

“S-shit,” he said breathlessly, stumbling out of bed and covering his erection with the sheets around his legs. You shot backwards from the door, tumbling directly into the wall. Hamzah fumbled to get pants on, and ran towards you, a pleading look in his eyes.

“Holy shit, y/n. I-I, um, I had no idea that you were home. I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t do that. Not if I knew that you were here.”

You were still sat on the floor, pink blush fast-spreading across your cheeks. You felt a coy smile tickling your lips. “Were you—” you looked up at Hamzah, feeling a dangerous rush of confidence flood your mind, “Were you jerking off to me?”

Hamzah’s eyes widened impossibly large. “I–no. I mean…no,” he said. “Definitely not.”

“Really,” you said seductively, rising up from your position and stepping closer to the trembling man. “Because…” you leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I swear I heard you say my name.” A deep red blush spread across Hamzah’s cheekbones and he swallowed audibly.

His voice lowered a decibel. “No,” he whispered. “No, I wasn’t.”

You smirked at how flustered you made him. “I didn’t take you for a liar, you know.” You pushed past the taller man into his room. The moment you enter, you felt your core throb, the smell of sweat and sex and and something purely Hamzah penetrating your nostrils. You made your way to his bed, sheets strewn carelessly, and picked up the pink underwear that had fallen to the floor in Hamzah’s rushed attempt at maintaining his dignity. You dangled the fabric from your extended pointer finger.

“So what are these then?” The panties sway from your finger, and Hamzah’s puppy-like eyes follow the cloth to and fro like a tennis match. 

“I–,” he gulped. “I don’t know how those got there.”

You stepped toward him. “So you’re really just gonna play dumb with me then, huh?” You took careful step after careful step until you were inches away from the timid, trembling man. “You’re not dumb, Hamzah.” You reached up until his glossy eyes came face-to-face with your panties. “Take them.”

Hamzah’s dumbfounded expression stared back at your own. You shifted the fabric forward, directly into his big nose, and he shakily inhaled, eyes almost rolling back into his own head. “F-fuck,” he whimpered out. Swiftly, as if they were never there in the first place, you removed the outstretched panties from his prying nostrils. The look he gave you, as his eyes slowly opened, made your legs weak and your core throb. He looked as though he would give you the world, or anything you asked, as long as he could be face-to-face with that stupid piece of cloth again.

“Tell me what you want,” you asked, voice low and seductive.

“You,” he whispered, eyes darting from your own, to the wall, to the panties still clutched in your hand, and back to your own.

You smile at his bashfulness. “A little louder,” you said, feeling cocky. You reach up to push back his dark, messy curls from his sweaty forehead.

Hamzah’s dark eyes met your own and you melted. “You…I want you. I want you so fucking bad it hurts.” You felt your core tighten. Hamzah looked at you with glossy, pleading eyes. You looked down and noticed the erection still straining in his pants. You turn around and walk to his bed, sitting on the edge. You pat the soft bedding next to you.

“Come here.” Hamzah moved at the speed of light, by the time you blinked he was sitting down next to you, hands politely together in his lap. You lean over to straddle Hamzah’s thick thighs, dress riding up, the thin cloth of your panties doing nothing to stop you from feeling his erection pressing against your wet folds. You intertwine your hands behind his neck while he looks up at you with intense adoration and devotion. Your hands cup his cheeks.

“What do you want, baby?” you ask. You reach down, beneath the waistband of his gym shorts, and grasp his hard length. Hamzah’s parted red lips elicit a whiny gasp as his large hands firmly grasp your waist. 

“I want–” he starts, barely able to string a sentence together as you begin to move your hand up and down his length. “I want to be inside you.” 

You chuckled coyly, moving your hand faster. “And what makes you think you have the right to be inside me.” Groans and gasps tumbled from Hamzah’s wet lips. His head was tilted back, a purely fucked-out expression bedazzling his beautiful face. 

“I just—,” he blissfully moaned out. “I just want to feel you.” His hands snaked up your dress, reaching up to grasp at your covered tits. His big hands connected with your sensitive nipples that were poking out through the fabric. A dirty, stupid idea shot into your head. You pull away from Hamzah, untangling yourself from his roaming hands. “W-what?” he said, confusion written all over his pretty face. 

“I don’t know,” you respond. “I’m kinda pissed at you right now. Do you know how fucking gross it is to come home to your roommate touching himself to you? Desperately jerking off, my favorite fucking pair of panties in your grimy hands. You’re a disgusting little slut, aren’t you?” Hamzah’s covered cock visibly twitched in his gym shorts. He let out a heady whimper at your vile tone and words. “Oh…” you said, a dark and naughty gleam twinkling in your eyes. “Do you like that shit? Do you like it when I call you a stupid fucking whore?” Hamzah’s hips grinded against the air, desperate for any sort of friction against his aching cock.

“I think,” you say, reaching down to pick up the pink panties you had discarded to the side, “That I don’t want a disgusting slut like you to touch me, not with those filthy fucking hands of yours.” Using the elastic of your lacy panties, you tie Hamzah’s hands together behind his back. He whimpered at your touch, the light graze of your fingers shooting electricity down his spine and into his desperate member. Once Hamzah was fully tied up, unable to move his hands to touch your body, you flung your current pair of panties off and sat back on his lap again. You reached into his pants once more, pulling his weeping cock from within his shorts. You rubbed his erection up and down your wet folds, looking down to see the soaking, wet mess you were making of his cock. You line his tip up with your hole, sliding him into your wet cunt. The stretch was unbearably pleasurable and Hamzah let out an unfiltered groan.

“Shut up,” you told him, placing your hand over his mouth. “I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you.” You began bouncing up and down on his cock, whines and moans escaping your parted lips at the fulfilling sensation deep within your cunt. Hamzah looked completely pathetic beneath you, eyes filled with desperation as he clumsily attempted to thrust up into you. You grab onto his curls, yanking as his cock hits a particularly sensitive spot deep within your cunt. Hamzah lets out another whine at the tugging sensation. Immediately, you stop your motions and slap him across the face.

“I told you to shut up,” you said roughly, voice rattling with an emotion you had never thought could possess you: dominance. And you were enjoying it. You enjoyed seeing this tall, muscular man writhe beneath your smaller body, pathetically attempting to engage and make you feel good. An idea flitted through your head. You reached down to the floor and grabbed your discarded panties. Squeezing his cheeks together in your hands, you opened up his mouth and shoved your panties in, effectively gagging him. Hamzah let out a muffled groan at the feeling of the used cloth being shoved between his lips. Hips jerking into you now at a frenzied pace. The increased speed of his cock inside you felt like heaven, and you let out a high-pitched moan, collapsing into his shoulders. You rode his cock violently, Hamzah’s pathetic face reflecting your own shining pleasure. Hamzah’s hips began to stutter, his gagged moans becoming increasingly frequent as his eyes fluttered closed, and you knew he was close. You reached down to touch your clit, hoping to reach your climax at the same time. The combined pleasure of touching your clit and the sweet stretch of Hamzah’s cock hitting that delicious spot deep inside you made your head tip back in ecstasy. Hamzah’s eyes widened and you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

“Do you want to cum, baby?” you asked sweetly, rocking your hips softly against his. He nodded his head aggressively. Your walls fluttered around his cock, and Hamzah looked in pain, nose scrunched and eyes squeezed shut. You realized, as you continued to rock your hips, that he was waiting for your permission to cum.

“Oh,” you say sweetly. “You want my permission, hmm?” You giggle softly as Hamzah tries to talk, the soft fabric in his mouth preventing him from doing so. “You can cum, baby, I want you to.” At this admission, Hamzah’s face tightens and his hips stutter and begin to shake. The feeling of his cock twitching inside you, spurting cum against your tight walls, sent you over the edge. Hamzah’s chest was heaving as he watched you writhe on top of him, your pleasure furthering his own. You let out a high-pitched whine as you come down from your high. Hamzah’s eyes were wide, glossy, and pathetic as they met your own. You pulled the pair of panties out of his mouth and he sucked in a deep breath. You slid off his length and reached behind him, untying your panties from around his wrists. He let out a sigh as his hands became free, rubbing them together to recirculate the blood flow.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, suddenly feeling a deep sense of embarrassment. “I’m sorry! That was fucking crazy! I didn’t at all mean to take it that far.”

Hamzah looked up at you, a playful smile spreading across his face. “Are you kidding me? You have no idea how bad I’ve wanted to do that with you.”

“Yeah! But…like that?” you respond. “I-I mean…I slapped you. I feel like I took it too far.” You move to leave the room, embarrassment bleeding all over your face in a deep red color. Hamzah reached you in an instant, arms wrapping around your waist from behind, head resting on your shoulder. He placed a sweet kiss on your neck.

“Hi,” you say, giggling breathlessly as you came face to face with his growing length. 

“H-hey,” he managed to stutter out. Hamzah’s eyes were wide and glossy. He let out a small whimper as you touched his sensitive cock. It twitched once, then twice, as you caressed it in your hand. You dropped to your knees in front of the dark-haired man and he looked as though he was about to faint. His mouth was dry in anticipation and he licked his cracking lips. You placed a soft kiss on his tip, already dripping in pre-cum. He whined.

“Is that good, baby?” you asked him, in a soft, sultry voice that you didn’t even know could come from your throat.

“Mmh,” he responded, nodding his head aggressively. You licked the underside of his cock once and he shuddered, already almost threatening to spill his load everywhere. You began kitten-licking his tip, grabbing the rest of his length in your hands. Hamzah didn’t know what to do with his hands, but opted to put one in your hair, tying it up into a make-shift ponytail. Slowly, you took his entire length into your mouth. He was big and you were unable to take him all without gagging. You began moving your mouth up and down his length and Hamzah led out a heady groan, head tilted backwards towards the ceiling. You ran your tongue along the underside of his cock, feeling the thick vein that ran from the tip to the base. You suppressed the gag that threatened to escape your lips as you nuzzled your nose against the thick, curly hair at the base of Hamzah’s cock. You inhaled his scent, as you let him begin to use your mouth however he wished.

His hips were beginning to stutter, as he grabbed your hair tightly, guiding your mouth along the length of his cock. He let out a flurry of groans and whines, eyes alternating between squeezing shut and staring down at you taking his length. Doe eyes wide and innocent, you held eye contact with him, hollowing out your cheeks, and he let out a long moan. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth and you knew he was close. Abruptly, you pulled your mouth off of his length with a pop, and he let out a whine at the lack of contact. 

“W-why’d you stop?” he asked, voice high-pitched and breathy. You didn’t respond, wiping your mouth on the back of your hand and standing up. You pushed Hamzah towards the bed, pushing him down to sit on the edge. You moved to straddle his thick thighs, rubbing your uncovered pussy on his hard, wet length. His hands moved to roughly grip your waist and you intertwined your fingers in his hair.

“I want you inside of me,” you whispered into his ear. Hamzah shuddered at the contact of your soaking wet pussy moving along his sensitive cock. The way he was so turned on from not even being inside your cunt made your core throb with desire. 

Arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly close to him. You rub your wet folds along his member, before reaching behind you and lining his tip up with your soaking hole. You slowly sank down on his length, the stretch was blissful and you let out a long whine. Hamzah groaned into your chest. 

“Holy fuck,” he stuttered out. “S-so good. You feel so good, baby.” You slide up and down on his cock, feeling the stretch deep in your core.

“O-oh my god,” you whine. “You're so big, Hamzah.”

“How the fuck have we never done this before?” he whispered into your chest.

“You never asked,” you responded. Hamzah tugged at your t-shirt, reaching underneath it to caress your bare waist. His touch was like electricity, sending tingles throughout your back and down your spine.

“I wanna…” he huffed out. “I wanna-”

“Use your words, baby,” you responded, enjoying how fragile and delicate he was beneath you.

Hamzah’s face reddened, and he spoke, mouth buried in your shirt. “Wanna see your tits.” You giggled, before reaching down and tugging your t-shirt over your head. The air was slightly chilly and your nipples instantly hardened. Hamzah’s eyes widened as he came face to face with your tits.

“H-holy shit,” he said. “They’re so much prettier than I imagined.” He grabbed them in his big hands, massaging them slightly.

“You’ve imagined my tits?” you say, laughing slightly.

“Hell yeah,” he responded. “The other day, when you wore that tight little shirt out to dinner and your cleavage was showing…shit. The second I got home I had to jerk off. Fuck…I came so quick, imagining cumming all over your pretty fucking tits.”

Your face instantly reddened at his breathless confession. He began thrusting up into you, making your tits bounce with the sheer force of it. You let out a long moan, head tilted back, as he hit a particularly sensitive spot deep within your cunt. “S-sometimes,” he continued. “When I jerk off to you, I’m loud on purpose, hoping that you’ll hear me and come help me.”

“S-shit, Hamzah,” you whispered. He latched his pretty red mouth onto your tits, sucking one of your hardened nipples into his mouth. You let out a high-pitched whine as your hips undulated against his. Hamzah reached down to rub your clit. You felt yourself coming closer towards release. “I-I’m close,” you whine.

“Me too, baby,” he responded, voice rough with desire.

Your breath became heavy. Hamzah rubbed your clit harder and faster, at the same time hitting that sweet spot deep inside. You came with a cry---white, hot light taking over your vision. Your orgasm washed over you and you clung onto Hamzah’s broad shoulders. Seconds later, Hamzah gripped your waist tightly and you felt his cock twitch inside you, spurting his seed deep within your cunt. He groaned deeply, head buried deep in your chest. His hips stuttered to a stop and you both sat there, completely still, coming down from your conjoint highs. Hamzah looked up at you, pure adoration present in his completely fucked-out expression. He smiled up at you, reaching up to wipe away the traces of saliva that adorned the corners of your lips. You smiled back. 

“Hi,” you said softly.

“Hi,” he responded, breathless. You giggled, moving your hand to sweep his curly hair back from his sweaty forehead. “Are you okay?” he asked, hands still gripping your waist.

“Yeah,” you responded. “I’m more than okay. Are you?”

Every new thing Hamzah learned about you, was just another reason why he liked you. It was scary, he was experiencing so many feelings in such a short amount of time. It was the first time someone had swept him off his feet, but you brought him so much peace that focusing on anything other than the way his chest felt everytime he thought about you was pointless. Time was relative.

On Thursday, as you were finishing a long day at work, your phone rang. It was Hamzah. His voice alone was enough to calm you.

"Hey y/n, how was work?" he asked.

"Hi... ugh, it was rough. I'm exhausted, but it was good. I like staying busy, you know? I never run out of things to do."

"Haha, I don't know how you do it, but I'm glad you enjoy your job. You should get some rest though; you'll need it for tomorrow..."

You could hear the smile in his voice, hinting that he had something planned.

"Tomorrow? What's happening tomorrow?"

"...Our big date!! If you're free... Are you free for dinner tomorrow? I found this place I think you'd really like."

Your heart started racing. It was finally happening. Initially, you had doubts, but Hamzah had given you the time and space to get to know him, and you appreciated that. He was patient and understanding, passionate about his job, and struck a perfect balance between fun and serious. Though you hadn't known each other for long, you trusted him enough to say yes.

"Yeah," you said with a big smile—the same one he always complimented you on. You had once confided in him about your insecurity growing up, and he had made it a point to always appreciate it. "Where are we going?"

"Well, you're always talking about jazz, so I asked around and found this 'invitation-only jazz club'... and I managed to get us invites!"

"Oh... Wow! I see being an influencer has its perks. I've always wanted to go to a place like that."

"Haha, I knew you'd like it. Meet you at 7?"

"You know me well. Yeah, text me the address and I'll meet you there."

"Great. See you tomorrow then."

"See ya!"

The date was set.

Saying you were excited was an understatement; you had always dreamed of meeting someone who wasn't afraid to show genuine interest in you, someone who listened and cared deeply about your feelings. It felt surreal. Sometimes, you thought about the "random" ways the universe worked—what were the chances of Hamzah walking into THAT coffee shop on THAT particular day and time? If not for that serendipitous moment, your paths might never have crossed, and your life wouldn't be this nice.

As soon as you got home, you couldn't wait to share the news with Anna, your roommate and best friend. Her eyes lit up with happiness for you. “It’s good seeing you like this y/n, it was time you finally met a nice guy,” You could see it in her eyes, she meant that. “Do you know what you’re wearing yet?. “I have a few ideas” You said.

The excitement was mutual, as soon as you hung up Hamzah texted Martin. “GUESS WHO HAS A DATE TOMORROW!!!!” He had gotten a haircut the day before to make sure it looked nice by Friday, and already had an outfit in mind, he had planned on picking you up with some flowers, him walking up to your door and surprising you with them, giving you a big hug and smelling your perfume. But you told him you’d meet him there instead, so he had to come up with a new plan to fantasize about.  

FRIDAY

The time leading to the date seemed like an eternity, work was slower than usual, everything was quiet, except for the incessant ticking of the big clock on the cold, white wall in front of you. Across the room, your coworker in her fifties, mindlessly scrolling on facebook on her phone, the screen glaring brightly as she burst into laughter at every funny post. You and Anna had joked about her contagious, "funnier-than-the-joke" laugh just last night.

Hamzah would text you every once in a while throughout the day, and you’d reply trying not to show your excitement, but you were giggling all day long, your mind kept drifting away from your tasks to the infinite possibilities of what could happen tonight, what he’d wear, how he’d react to what you’d be wearing, would the food be good? Would you guys dance? Or just talk and enjoy the music in the background. You kept trying not to get your hopes too high up, in case anything went wrong, what if he canceled last minute?What if–Stop overthinking- You told yourself, -Let’s find something else to do instead-. Hamzah had awaken a lot of feelings within you, most of them sweet and cheesy, but you had found yourself feeling more self-conscious than usual at times, not because of him. First dates are always nerve wracking.

Finally, the workday came to an end. You packed up your things, said your goodbyes, and headed out to the parking lot. Unlocking your car, you climbed in and took a deep breath. As you turn the engine on, you noticed a weird sound, but chose to ignore it. The drive home was filled with a mix of nervous excitement and cautious optimism.

Arriving at your apartment, you hurried inside. You kicked off your shoes and headed straight for the kitchen, were Anna was already heating up lunch for the two of you, she gets off work earlier than you, and she loves cooking, something you were very grateful for. As you both ate your meals, you checked your phone again—another text from Hamzah.

"Hey, are you getting excited? I can't wait to see you tonight 😊"

You smiled at his message, feeling a rush of warmth. Quickly composing yourself, you replied, "Definitely excited! Looking forward to it 😄"

Anna noticed your distracted state and teased, "Someone's got a big date tonight, huh?"

You chuckled nervously. "Yeah, it's just... I really hope it goes well."

Anna grinned knowingly. "It will. Hamzah seems like a great guy. Relax and enjoy yourself."

Over lunch, you shared the latest updates with Anna, including Hamzah's thoughtful messages throughout the day. After eating, you took an “everything shower” and went to your room to decide on an outfit for the evening.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of multiple outfit changes and fleeting thoughts about the evening ahead. After a few moments of deliberation, you settled on a black backless dress, heels and you hair in a messy but stylish bun.

With a final glance in the mirror, you grabbed your purse and phone, checking for any last-minute messages. There it was—a text from Hamzah.

"Heyy, I'm almost there! Can't wait to see you. I'll be by the entrance."

Your heart skipped a beat as you read his message. Taking a deep breath to calm your nerves, you replied, "On my way! See you soon 😊"

You headed out the door, the cool evening air adding to the anticipation building within you. As you got into you car, you could feel something was off, you tried to turn it on but it wasn’t working –Shit.- You quickly grabbed your phone again and ordered an uber, luckily there was one just a couple blocks away from you.

After a few minutes, you were finally there. You got off the car, spotting Hamzah waiting just as he described, wearing the cutest glasses, your nerves eased. His smile widened as he saw you approaching, and you couldn't help but smile back.

"Hey," he greeted warmly, reaching out to give you a gentle hug. "You look amazing."

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a flush of happiness. "So do you."

“I wanted to get you an actual bouquet,” He says, revealing a red rose he was hiding behind his back. “But I thought it would get in the way when we started dancing. I’ll get you one for next time though.”

“We’re dancing?!” You said with a huuuugeee smile, “God I love your smile-OF COURSE we’re dancing! I didn’t look up ‘How to dance to jazz tutorials’ for nothing”.

“Thanks, really” It’s all you managed to say, staring into his eyes, the night had just started and it was already everything you’d dream of. “Come on, let’s go inside” He said as he wraped his arm around you and led you in.

As you entered the jazz club together, the soft strains of music enveloped you. The ambiance was cozy, with dim lighting casting a warm glow over the intimate tables. Hamzah led you to a table near the stage, where you settled in comfortably. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of good food and the gentle hum of conversations.

The evening unfolded beautifully as you and Hamzah delved into meaningful conversations, sharing stories and discovering mutual interests. You told him about you car breaking down and he offered you a ride back home. He was attentive and sweet, making you feel at ease with his genuine charm and personality.

Dinner arrived—a delicious spread of gourmet dishes that delighted your taste buds. Between bites and sips of wine, laughter bubbled up naturally between you, punctuated by moments of shared glances, soft innocent touches and smiles that spoke volumes.

As the music shifted to a soulful jazz melody, ‘Just the Two of Us’ ;) Hamzah stood up, extending his hand to you with a playful grin. "Care for a dance?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his invitation. You placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch as he led you to the small dance floor beside the stage. In the soft glow of the club lights, you swayed together to the rhythm of the music, feeling the subtle electricity between you.

For a few blissful moments, the world outside faded away as you immersed yourself in the magic of the night. Hamzah's movements were graceful yet assured, his hand on your waist guiding you across the floor. Your hand in his and your foreheads touching. You couldn't help but admire how his eyes sparkled with genuine happiness, mirroring your own.

As you moved together in sync with the music, the distance between you seemed to dissolve. Each step was a testament to the growing bond between you, a silent promise of more moments like this to come. The rhythm of the jazz, the soft glow of the club lights, and the subtle scent of his cologne enveloped you in a cocoon of intimacy.

In the quiet pauses between songs, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. "You're an amazing dancer," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration.

You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "You're not so bad yourself," you teased softly, the playful banter adding to the lightness of the occasion.

As the music continued, you found yourself lost in the dance, savoring each fleeting second as if trying to capture the essence of this perfect evening. The world outside seemed distant and insignificant compared to the connection you shared in that moment.

Eventually, the song ended, as you returned to your table, hand in hand, the evening continued with a renewed sense of closeness and connection. The jazz club buzzed with life around you, yet it felt like the two of you were in your own little world, cocooned in the warmth of newfound companionship.

As the night came to an end, and the jazz club began to empty, y/n and Hamzah stepped out into the crisp night air, their breath visible in the glow of city lights. The date had been enchanting, filled with laughter, shared stories, and a dance that seemed to suspend time itself.

As they walked towards Hamzah's car, y/n's thoughts flickered back to the Uber ride that had brought her here. She had enjoyed the evening and was grateful for Hamzah's company. The offer of a ride home from him now felt like a continuation of his thoughtfulness.

Reaching the car, Hamzah unlocked the door and held it open for y/n with a gallant gesture. She smiled appreciatively, settling into the passenger seat. The warmth of the car enveloped them both as Hamzah started the engine, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

"I hope you enjoyed tonight," Hamzah said, glancing over at y/n with a gentle smile.

"I did," y/n replied softly, her gaze meeting his. "Thank you for inviting me and for the ride home."

"My pleasure," Hamzah replied warmly, his eyes reflecting the streetlights as they drove through the quiet night. "I'm glad we had this time together."

As they navigated through the familiar streets towards y/n's apartment, conversation flowed between them. They discussed their favorite jazz tunes from the night, shared funny anecdotes, and delved into deeper topics that revealed more about their passions and dreams.

The drive seemed to pass in a blur, the connection between y/n and Hamzah growing stronger with each passing minute. By the time they arrived at y/n's apartment building, she couldn't help but feel a sense of reluctance to say goodbye.

"Here we are," he said softly, pulling up to the curb outside y/n's building. He turned off the engine and turned to face her, his expression earnest. Hamzah hesitated for a moment, stepping out, he hurried around to y/n's side and opened the door for her, offering his hand to help her out. She accepted, feeling a flutter of warmth at his gesture.

"Thank you," y/n said softly as she stood beside him, their eyes meeting in the dim glow of the streetlights.

"You're welcome," Hamzah replied, his voice gentle. "Let me walk you to your door."

Together, they walked towards the entrance of the apartment building, the night air cool around them. The silence between them now felt comfortable, filled with a shared understanding and the promise of more to come.

As they reached y/n's door, she turned to face Hamzah with a smile. Him looking at her as if contemplating his next words. "Thank you again for tonight. I really enjoyed your company."

"Me too," y/n replied sincerely, moving closer to him, a warm smile gracing her lips. "I had a great time."

"Would you like to do this again sometime?” He said, his hand gracing hers.

Y/n felt a rush of excitement at his suggestion. "I would love that," she answered.

"Great," Hamzah said with a smile, relief evident in his voice.

Their closeness drew them together naturally, and suddenly, y/n found herself wrapped in Hamzah's embrace. Her arms were around his neck, fingers gently caressing the curls at the back of his head. His arms encircled her waist, drawing her in as she rested her head against his chest. The intimacy of the moment enveloped them both, a silent acknowledgment of the connection they had forged over the course of the evening.

“Y/n?” Hamzah murmured softly.

“Yeah?” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I kiss you?”

Their hearts raced in unison, the anticipation palpable between them. Y/n lifted her head, meeting Hamzah's gaze with unwavering certainty. Their noses brushed against each other's, their breath mingling in the quiet space between them. And then, without hesitation, Hamzah closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a tender kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as they shared this intimate moment, the world outside fading away. The kiss was gentle yet filled with passion, a culmination of the emotions they had both been feeling throughout the night.

As they pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting together, y/n couldn't help but smile. It felt right, being in Hamzah's arms, their hearts beating as one.

Hamzah brushed a strand of hair away from y/n's face, his touch tender. “I'm glad I met you, y/n.”

"Me too," y/n replied softly, her fingers tracing the line of Hamzah's jaw. "I'm really glad."

They stood there for a moment longer, savoring the closeness and the newfound connection between them. In that quiet moment, they both knew that tonight had been more than just a date—it had been the beginning of something beautiful.

The campus was alive with the buzz of the annual Spring Festival. The central courtyard adorned and decorated to welcome the students browsing through the booths offering everything from handmade crafts to a wide variety of food and drinks.

Music drifted from the stage, where local bands competed for the crowd’s attention.

Y/N navigated the busy scene with her friends, making their way through the flood of people, her eyes scanning the area for anything interesting. The festival was a welcome break from the stress of exams, and she was looking forward to enjoying the evening. She stopped at a booth selling handmade jewelry, her attention caught by a pair of earrings when a familiar voice floated over the noise of the crowd.

“Hey, you should totally try the fried chicken tenders over there!”

She turned, the voice sparking a memory she couldn’t quite place. As she looked around, her gaze landed on a tall, smiling figure leaning casually against a booth, his eyes lit up with the same mischievous glint she remembered from years ago.

Hamzah.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t seen him since middle school, and yet here he was, just a few feet away, looking both familiar and completely different at the same time. His face had matured, but the playful smile and big brown eyes were unmistakable.

Gathering her courage, Y/N stepped forward. “Hamzah?” she called out, her voice a mix of surprise and excitement.

He turned towards her, his expression shifting from curiosity to recognition in an instant. “Y/N? Wow, it’s been ages!” His face broke into a wide grin as he walked over, his arms open for a hug.

She laughed, returning the embrace. “I can’t believe it’s you! What are the odds of running into each other here?”

“It’s crazy, right?” Hamzah said, pulling back to look at her. “I had no idea you were at this school. What have you been up to?”

They found a quieter spot near the edge of the courtyard, away from the loud music and bustling crowds. As they caught up, the years apart seemed to melt away. Y/N told him about her major, her new friends, and the ups and downs of college life. Hamzah shared stories of his classes, his roommate, and updates on his family.

“I can’t believe we’ve both been here this whole time and never ran into each other,” Y/N said, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Maybe we were meant to find each other now,” Hamzah replied, his eyes meeting hers with a sincerity that made her heart flutter.

“After all those years” she said, memories sparkling in her mind.

“I suppose it was fate that brought us back together” Hamzah said with a smile.

“Maybe,” Y/N replied, feeling a warmth spread through her chest.

And just like that, the once inseparable duo were back together again.

Hanging out in each other’s dorms, going to parties, meeting their friends, studying together, opening up to each other, trusting each other with everything and anything, just like when they were kids.

Time felt to melt away around them, it seemed like it was never enough, no matter how much time they spent together, they always had more things to talk about.

Months went by and just like that, fall midterms were right around the corner. Hamzah was stressed, being an IT major was not easy, and lately it’s all he talked about.

The library was packed with anxious students revising for their exams, but still, quiet, all you could hear were faint chatters and clicky keyboards.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I try to study but it’s like, no matter how hard I try, I don’t feel ready.”

“Hamzah, I think you need a break, you’ve been here all day”

“I don’t need a break, I need a miracle-”

Y/N yawned, interrupting him. “And I need to go to sleep, it’s getting late” She said, getting up her seat and grabbing her bag.

“Do you want me to walk you to your dorm?” Hamzah asked, getting up his seat as well.

“Nah, you should walk to yours though. Seriously, get some rest, you’ll be fine.”

“It’s tomorrow, I don’t know if-“ He felt a hand patting his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Trust me.”

“How do you know?” You could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“Because you’ll have this” She said, pulling a dark blue bracelet from her bag.

“What’s that?”

“A lucky bracelet.” A proud grin in her face. “Here.”

As Hamzah took it, his mind wandered to the past, “Aww just like the ones you used to make me when we were kids”. He smiled.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever”. She tried to brush it off. “Come on, grab your things. Let’s get outta here.”

While gathering his stuff, another memory sparked in his head; An old lunchbox under his bed where he kept old trinkets from his childhood.

“I still have them, you know?” He confessed.

Her eyes lit up. “Really?”.

“Yeah, all of them.” His tone soft.

Warmth spread though Y/N’s chest. He kept them. She felt her cheeks turning red, so she quickly thought of something to focus the attention back to him.

“Well, I still have that card you gave me in valentines day.” She teased as they made their way out the library.

Hamzah’s eye widened as he remembered the card, he immediately wrinkled his nose and closed his eyes. Covering them with his hand in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.

“…Love Bugs”

Y/N clapped her hands together as she laughed. “Look at you. You got all red.”

“Stoppp” he playfully pushed her.

“How did you come up with it?” still laughing. “I gotta say, using your feet to make the shape of a bug was pretty creative”. Teasingly returning the push.

“I googled ‘Valentines day cards’ and it popped out” A hearty laugh burst from his lips.

It was moments like these that transported them back in time.

They were still those 5th graders at heart.

After accompanying Y/N to her dorm, Hamzah’s walk to his was a blur. He was still in the moment, so much he didn’t realize there was a huge smile in his face as he went inside his shared dorm.

“Look at you, who where you with?” His roommate, Martin, teased, pulling him back to reality.

“No one. Just Y/N.” He said, trying to sound unfazed.

“Y/N? Man just ask her out already”

“What? No, we’re just… friends.”

“Sure buddy” A grin in Martin’s face.

“Wdym?? Dude, we’ve been friends forever. I can’t ask her out” It wasn’t clear if he wanted to convince Martin he only saw her as a friend, or himself.

“It’s so obvious you both like each other. Even her friends can see it.”

“What friends? And, see what?” a puzzled look in his face.

“I was hanging out with Mandy, her roommate, and she said she mentioned how you two would make a good couple to Y/N, and immediately she jumped and asked if you had said something about it”.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” He said pacing around the room looking for a pair of clean socks. “Plus, you only say that cause you like Mandy and me dating Y/N would help you, and dude, this place is a mess I can’t find anything here.”

“Um, fyi, Mandy DOES like me, no thanks to you, and,” He tossed Hamzah a pair of socks. “We’re not the only ones that think that, ask literally anyone, WE ALL KNOW.”

“Whatever man.”

That night it was extra hard for Hamzah to sleep, between worrying about his big exam tomorrow and the thought that Y/N might like him. His head was a mess.

And he wasn’t the only one. Y/N ‘s friends kept teasing her about him too, begging her to make a move.

It seemed like everyone around them knew, everyone but them.

The morning after Hamzah woke up to a text from Y/N; “Good luck on your exam! You’ll do great”, reading that placed a huge smile on his face, it’s weird, he never smiles this much when texting anyone else. Whatever, she’s just a friend. A really good friend.

During his exam, he couldn’t stop fidgeting with the bracelet Y/N gave her last night, it felt like the touch of it was enough to ease his mind, it helped him focus.

Once he was done, he handed it to his teacher, who skimmed through it and looked at him with a genuine smile “Good Job.” Those two words were enough to send Hamzah running out that classroom straight to the cafeteria, where he knew Y/N would be.

“Y/N!,” he shouted when he saw her, “it worked!!”

“What worked?” She was confused, but he seemed happy, so she was happy.

“The- the bracelet!” he said catching his breath.

“Calm down” She said placing her hands on his arms, signaling him to breathe. “So it went well?”

“Well?? It went great!- Oh Y/N I’m so happy I could kiss you!”

He froze as he realized what he’d just blurted out.

“Sorry- I mean- I- If you-“ His apology was cut short as he felt Y/N move closer to him, his arms wrapping around her body, her face inches away from his. Their eyes locked, the intensity of her gaze making him feel as she could read his every thought.

The world around them went quiet as they closed the distance between them with a kiss. It was soft yet passionate, a perfect blend of familiarity and newness. Her hands slid to the back of his head, caressing his curls. His arms tighten around her waist, the moment so surreal he feared it might slip away.

Hamzah broke the kiss with a chuckle, slowly pulling away.

“What?” Y/N asked, a smile playing on her lips.

“You still wear strawberry lip balm.” He teased.