teenage dirtbag hamzah and reader
“You have beautiful eyes..”
The three of them strolled through the dimly lit streets, the cold air biting at their skin as their breath fogged in front of them. Hamzah walked in the middle, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his camera swinging against his hip. Martin was lighting a cigarette, the flicker of the lighter illuminating his face for a brief second. Mandy walked beside him, arms crossed, her usual unimpressed expression softened by the way Martin occasionally nudged her, trying to make her laugh.
By the time they reached the party, the bass from inside was already vibrating through the pavement. A few people lingered on the porch, beer bottles in hand, talking and laughing under the dim porchlight. The house was glowing from within, the yellow light spilling through the open door, illuminating the crowd inside.
They pushed through the threshold, the scent of cheap cologne, weed, and something vaguely floral hitting them all at once. Hamzah rubbed the back of his neck, scanning the room out of habit, taking in the faces, the voices, the movement—
And then he saw her.
Across the room, leaning against the kitchen counter, half-listening to someone talk. The same loose, off-the-shoulder baseball tee, the belt cinched around her waist, the jeans that sat just right on her frame. The same hair, thick and wild, falling over her shoulders like it had been sculpted by the wind itself.
He felt that same flicker of recognition from earlier, that same pull in his chest.
Almost like she felt it, she glanced up, and her eyes landed on him.
There was a beat. A pause stretched just long enough to mean something.
Then, slowly, she smiled.
Hamzah didn’t even think about it. His feet just moved.
“Hey,” she said when he was close enough to hear her over the music.
“Hey,” he echoed, leaning against the counter beside her.
“You again,” she mused, amusement in her voice.
“Yeah,” he said, smirking. “Me again.”
She tilted her head slightly, watching him in a way that made his stomach do something weird.
“You have beautiful eyes,” she said, casually, like she was just stating a fact.
Hamzah blinked.
A beat passed.
“Yeah,” he said finally, voice quieter. “So do you.”
She smiled at that, slow and knowing.
They had been talking for what felt like forever, the conversation shifting like the tide. Movies. Nostalgia. The weird way certain scents could send you straight back to childhood. She had a way of making the simplest things sound poetic.
“You ever smell something and suddenly you’re ten years old again?” she asked, spinning her half-empty cup between her fingers.
Hamzah exhaled, thinking. “Yeah. There’s this old VHS store near my uncle’s place. Every time I walk in, it smells like dust and plastic and… I don’t know. Like a life I almost had.”
She nodded like she understood. “For me, it’s gasoline. I used to sit in my dad’s car while he pumped gas, and I’d just watch the numbers go up, pretending I understood how it worked.”
Hamzah chuckled. “That’s kind of poetic.”
“Everything’s kind of poetic if you look at it the right way.”
He watched her, the way the dim kitchen light caught the angles of her face. He could still smell her, that same signature scent, something warm, familiar, but just out of reach.
The conversation drifted easily, like slipping into warm water. They talked about movies, their favorites, their least favorites.
“What’s the best thing you’ve ever seen?” she asked, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of a half-empty cup.
Hamzah exhaled, thinking. “I don’t know if I have a single best. But there’s this one film… real low-budget, black-and-white, barely anyone’s heard of it. There’s this one scene where the main character’s just standing in the rain, not saying anything, but you know everything he’s feeling.”
She listened, nodding. “I like scenes like that. When you don’t need words to know.”
“Yeah,” Hamzah said, meeting her gaze. “Exactly.”
She sipped her drink. “You ever see something in a movie that made you feel like… you lived it before?”
Hamzah thought for a second. “Like déjà vu?”
“Kind of. But more like… something you didn’t know you missed until you saw it on-screen.”
He nodded, feeling that in his chest. “Yeah. All the time.”
She smiled. “Me too.”
The music changed. Someone stumbled into the kitchen, laughing too loud, breaking the little bubble they’d been in.
Hamzah glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting Martin to be watching, but he was nowhere in sight.
When he looked back at her, she was watching him. Her eyes flickered to his hands, to the way his fingers tapped against his thigh.
“You nervous?” she asked, teasing.
Hamzah huffed a quiet laugh, running a hand over his face. “A little.”
She grinned. “Why?”
Hamzah hesitated. Then, before he could talk himself out of it—
“Can I get your number?”
She blinked, a little surprised, but then, slowly, her lips curved into something softer.
“Yeah,” she said, reaching into her bag.
She pulled out a pen, uncapping it with her teeth before taking his hand.
The tip of the pen was cold against his skin, her writing slanted and quick.
Before he could say anything, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his hand, right over the ink.
Hamzah’s brain short-circuited.
“Don’t lose it,” she murmured, giving him a small, teasing smile before turning toward the back door, slipping into the night like she was never there.
He stood there, staring after her.
Then—
“Bro.”
Hamzah turned just in time to see Martin standing in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised. Mandy stood beside him, her expression unreadable.
“Bro, we’ve been looking for you,” Martin said, stepping into the room. “And here you are, getting all Notebook in the kitchen.”
Hamzah rolled his eyes. “Relax, man.”
But Martin was already smirking. “Nah, it’s cool, I just didn’t realize you were the type to get lost in a conversation and forget his friends.”
Mandy huffed. “Not surprised.”
Hamzah shot her a look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You disappear a lot,” she said, leaning against the counter. “Not just at parties.”
He frowned, not sure what to say to that.
“I’m not disappearing,” he interrupted, nodding toward his hand, where the ink was still fresh. “Im just showing up somewhere new.”
Martin let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Man, she’s got you thinking in poetry.”
Hamzah ignored him, looking at her instead.
She just smiled. “See you around, Hamzah.”
And with that, she slipped past Martin and Mandy, disappearing into the party like she had never been there at all.
For a second, Hamzah just stood there, glancing at the girl next to him momentarily. Looking for some type of validation.
Then Martin clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You good, Shakespeare?”
Hamzah glanced down at the numbers on his hand.
Yeah. He was good.
I GOT IT BACK HHAHA NVM
@issysh3ll
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in my head all my 70s au characters all go to a school called Brighton High School and they’re all seniors having the time of their lives before college with their different friend groups. Interacting every so often in classes for projects and school fights and bullying freshman together.
No cause this is why I hate old balding bitches they got the most problems other than hair growth oil
Relationships are so scary cause what if fine shyt likes his brother more than me.
hii! can i just say i love the 70s theme you have, ive been waiting for original hamzah fics for so long. i feel like they have all turned into roommate hamzah or mandy’s friend reader (don’t get me wrong, i still eat them up), but what you’re doing is creative and original
Omg this is the sweetest thing ever I’m so glad you enjoy my writing ❤️😭 the main reason why I wanted to start doing hamzah fics was for THIS EXACT REASON like that and I feel like nobody writes hamzah and Martin authentically it’s hard to imagine them saying certain things. Not saying I perfected writing him either but there’s just certain visions I have that I would like incorporated. But I’m just obsessed with the 70s and hamzah and Martin are so cute and silly I had to🫶🏽
Omg thank you sm the new episode left me queezy ima pretend I didn’t watch ts
LOCHLAN SMUT PLEASEEE everything im seeing is so fluffy but we all saw the way he kisses so um 👀
PINKY PROMISE
lochlan ratliff and reader smut
The boat sways gently beneath you, the ocean stretching endlessly into the dark. Everything feels too much, the soft hum of waves, the distant laughter below deck, the warmth of your skin against the cool night air. You’ve never done drugs before, and now you’re out of your mind, your senses cranked up to a hundred. You can feel everything. The way the wind grazes your arms, the rough texture of the boat’s carpet beneath you, the erratic thudding of your own heart.
Lochlan sits across from you, legs crossed, his fingertips trailing absentmindedly over the floor. His pupils are blown, his lips parted like he’s trying to catch his breath even though he hasn’t been running. You’re hugging your knees to your chest, trying to steady yourself, but you can’t. You’re both too aware, and it’s making you jittery.
It’s not like everyone else. They’d crashed a while ago, scattered below deck, passed out in a tangle of limbs and abandoned drinks. But you and Lochlan? You’re still here. Stuck in this hyper-aware, touch-starved limbo.
You try to distract yourself, rambling about the game earlier, how ridiculous it was, how terrifying it felt in the moment. Lochlan listens, a lazy smirk on his face, nodding along as you giggle.
“You practically made out with Saxon,” you tease, nudging his knee with your foot.
He groans, rolling his eyes, shaking his head like he can’t believe you’re bringing it up. “That was barely making out.”
You laugh harder than you should, breathless and lightheaded. It feels like you can’t stop. It’s like everything is funny right now.
Lochlan chuckles too, but then his laughter fades, his smile lingering but different now. A little tense. A little hesitant.
You’re still giggling to yourself when he finally speaks.
“Saxon kissed you.”
Your breath catches slightly.
“He was practically trying to eat you,” he adds, and his voice is teasing, but there’s something else beneath it. Something unreadable.
Your stomach twists.
“Yeah,” you mumble, pressing your cheek against your knee. “It was… weird.”
He watches you carefully.
You exhale, licking your lips. “Like, it was rough.” You frown slightly, trying to piece together the right words. “Like I had to force myself to like it.”
Lochlan’s fingers flex slightly on the carpet. His knee bounces once before stopping.
Then he says, “I could do a better job than that.”
Your head snaps toward him, eyes wide, before you burst into laughter. You’re convinced he’s joking.
But he doesn’t laugh.
He just looks at you, waiting.
Your smile falters slightly, your heart hammering against your ribs. You try to play it off, voice wobbly as you tease, “You don’t have any experience.”
He smirks a little. “I wouldn’t try to swallow you.”
That warmth in your stomach spreads, creeping up your neck. The boat sways gently, and suddenly, you feel weightless.
“Can I try?” he asks, voice softer this time.
You don’t say yes.
You don’t say no, either.
And he doesn’t know what that means, so he just leans in.
Your breath stutters, but you don’t move away.
At first, it’s just a peck, soft and fleeting. He pulls back, grinning like this is the funniest thing in the world, but you’re not laughing.
He notices.
This time when he leans back in, it’s different.
His lips press into yours again, slow and unsure but eager, and you kiss him back, tentatively at first. He exhales through his nose like he’s relieved, like he wasn’t sure if you’d kiss him back at all. His hands slide down your back, hesitating before settling on your hips.
It’s awkward and clumsy and neither of you care.
You rest your hands on his shoulders, unsure, barely touching, until he presses forward, his weight gently easing you onto the carpet. Your back meets the floor, and then he’s above you, hovering, breath shaky, eyes locked on yours.
The world around you fades, the ocean, the boat, the distant murmurs from below deck.
Just you. Just him.
His lips find yours again, and this time it’s deeper. Slow. Uncertain. His hands tighten on your waist, then drift lower, settling just above your thighs like he’s testing the waters.
You exhale sharply against his mouth, gripping his shoulders tighter. He tilts his head, pressing closer, and your stomach flips, heat coiling low in your belly.
The touches are hesitant, inexperienced, but it doesn’t matter.
As you and Lochlan's kiss deepened, you felt something inside you ignite, an ache that spread through your body, demanding attention, demanding satisfaction. You pushed yourself up, your chests pressing against each other, and Lochlan's hands instinctively slid down to your hips, gripping you tightly, anchoring you to him.
You could feel his need, matching your own, as he pulled you closer, his body molding against yours, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. You moved together, the kiss growing more urgent, more desperate. Lochlan's fingers dug into your skin, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins.
Lochlan’s breath was uneven, his forehead barely brushing against yours as he hovered over you. The moonlight reflected off the water, painting shifting silver patterns across his skin. His lips were pink and kiss-swollen, his pupils dark and blown wide.
He wasn’t trying to be rough, it didn’t suit him. But there was something different in the way he touched you now. A little more sure of himself, a little more desperate. His hands traced tentative patterns down your sides, warm and steady, but there was an urgency to the way he kissed you, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt beneath him.
Your heart pounded so hard it nearly drowned out the waves lapping against the boat. You gasped softly when his fingers skimmed under the waistband of your bikini bottoms, not entirely pushing, just testing. Your hand instinctively closed around his wrist, stopping him.
Lochlan froze. His breath hitched, and he pulled back just enough to search your face, eyes flicking between yours, afraid he’d pushed too far.
“I—” he started, voice rough, but you shook your head quickly.
“It’s not that,” you whispered, though you weren’t even sure what that was. “You just…you donn’t know what you’re doing. Not really.” And the thought sent a nervous chill down your spine, despite the heat between you.
Lochlan let out a breathless laugh, resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah? Well, neither do you.”
You squinted at him, narrowing your eyes, and he smirked, soft, teasing, almost offended.
“Please…” His voice dropped, quiet and pleading. “Lemme try. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
You hesitated, searching his face for any hint of doubt, but there was none. Just Lochlan. Just the boy who had spent the whole night laughing with you, the boy who looked at you like you were something delicate and precious, even as his hands trembled slightly against your skin.
Finally, you nodded.
His lips parted slightly, exhaling in quiet relief. But before he could do anything, you grabbed his face between your hands, making sure he was looking right at you.
“You can’t tell anyone,” you whispered, voice firm despite the way it wavered at the edges. “I mean it. No matter how much Saxon gets in your head, you can’t spill.”
Lochlan’s brows furrowed. “Saxon doesn’t get in my head.”
You tilted your head, unconvinced. “Promise me.”
Something flickered behind his eyes before he sighed, holding out his pinky. “I won’t tell. Pinky promise.”
You hesitated for half a second before wrapping your pinky around his.
The moment you did, he pressed you back down against the soft, warm deck, lips crashing onto yours again, filled with a new kind of urgency. His fingers dipped under your waistband, dragging your swim bottoms down just enough for him to kiss along your stomach, slow and reverent, like he was worshiping you.
You feel his hands on your bikini bottoms, pulling it down slowly, giving you the opportunity to stop him if you want to. But you remain motionless, staring at the ceiling, silently granting him permission to continue.
As the fabric slides down your legs, you sense his eyes drinking in the sight of your exposed skin. He lets out a barely audible breath, his voice a husky whisper that seems to vibrate against your flesh.
With deliberate care, he lifts your legs, draping them over his shoulders. The position is intimate, vulnerable, and you feel a flutter of trepidation mixed with excitement. You're not sure where this is headed, but you trust him enough to follow wherever he leads.
His fingers brush against your inner thighs, the light touch sending shivers down your spine. You hold your breath, anticipating what might come next. Instead of plunging ahead, he parts your legs the slightest bit, as if savoring the taste of uncertainty.
Then, without warning, his face descends, his breath hot against your core. You gasp, your body tensing reflexively, but he continues undeterred,he moves closer and presses a feather-light kiss against your clit. The sensation is electric, and you can't help but clamp your thighs around his head, a mix of pleasure and embarrassment washing over you.
"Ow," he murmurs, his voice muffled by your grip. "Sorry," you whisper.
He returns between your thighs, his tongue gliding over your slick folds in long, languid strokes. Each pass sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, your hips twitching involuntarily in response. Your fingers thread through his hair, holding him close, unsure whether to guide him or not.
As he works, his nose occasionally brushes against your clit, the slight friction adding another layer of pleasure. Your moans grow louder, more urgent, your body beginning to quake with the approaching climax.
His movements become more insistent, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every hidden crevice. You're lost in a haze of pleasure, your mind foggy with the sheer intensity of the sensations coursing through your veins.
Suddenly, a particularly skilled lick sends you over the edge. A strangled cry tears from your throat as your body seizes, convulsing in your orgasm. Your hand flies to your mouth, muffling the sound as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.
When you start to relax, you release your death grip on his hair, panting heavily. He looks up at you, mouth wide curled into a shocked smile and he laughs at the sound you made. Without warning, he peppers your thigh with soft kisses.
Irritation flickers across your features as he laughs at your post-orgasmic vulnerability. You shove his forehead half-heartedly, trying to hide the pure utter embarrassment in your face. He catches your wrist, his grip gentle but firm, and presses a tender kiss to your palm.
Satisfied with the gesture, you relax into the carpet, the cool fibers a stark contrast to the heat still radiating from your skin.
With a contented sigh, he reaches over to gently tug your bikini bottoms back into place, covering your still-sensitive flesh.
He lays beside you on his back quietly. The both of you breathing heavily but at different paces, chests rising up and down at different times. Not even looking at you. And you not looking at him. Almost trying to see if you regret what you had just done.
Neither of you speaks, content to drown in the aftermath of your shared experience. Eventually, you both turn to face each other, exchanging smiles.
Breaking the silence, you both erupt in laughter.
sorry this is so long but this was my first time writing smut and I was feeling like Shakespeare.. I got a lot of requests and I’m trying to do them all in a short span of time..
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sometimes i feel like i’m too FREAKY with people i've just met and then i'm embarrassed and i think they're going to start hating me
He’s is sexy omg his voice near the end THOSE RUNSSS
Okay so I decided to write a bunch of the requests on Saxon and just post one everyday so don’t think I forgot 😭 but while I was writing I was watching remember the titans (the best movie to ever exist imo no exaggeration) and I saw sunshine and how fine he was. And then I went to look for some fics of him and there are NONE. And he was one of the only boys to not discriminate when joining the team like he was so cute. I might create a story with him and a black reader because I can see it so clearly. So now I have to ask should she be the coaches daughter? Or a cheerleader? Or I was thinking she’s good with numbers so she helps the coaches on the sidelines but doesn’t actually care for football. Please tell me yall seen this movie because I need help I wanna write this so bad