Hamzah x (Manager) Reader: Part 3
description: While you and your date continue socializing at the party, the reader may have had a little too much to drink. Hamzah can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you. Were you doing this to get a rise out of him? He decides to pull you aside for a “chat”. Will this talk lead the two of you back to the office, or the bedroom?
contains: drunk reader, arguing... smut! (y'all begged for it)
a/n: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!! college work is starting to catch up to me and this corporate baddie gotta secure those internships you already knowwwww. but anyways... this is my first time attempting a smut fic, lmk how i did ;)
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Hamzah is starting to feel something fester inside him.
Jealously?
Definitely. But It was deeper than that.
Seeing you walk around with this man that you barely knew was really starting to get on his nerves. But on the other hand, seeing you so unattainable in his eyes was really starting to turn him on.
Hamzah couldn’t stop watching you. His eyes tracked every movement, the way you laughed, the way you held yourself with such ease, the way the man you were talking to clearly tried to impress you. He could see the way your lips curled into a smile, how your body language was open and playful, and the sharp pang of jealousy gnawed at him.
But it wasn’t just jealousy. It was something deeper.
Something possessive.
You were really letting go tonight, you were drinking and laughing,
god, he loved your laugh.
He shifted uncomfortably, feeling his pulse quicken as he tried to focus on the conversation in front of him, but his mind kept drifting back to you. To the way your laughter cut through the noise of the party, how it seemed to make the world pause for a moment.
He didn't understand why you were acting like you didn't know him. Hell, he knew you better than anyone else in this room. But tonight… tonight, you were different.
You weren't his, but damn, the thought of someone else getting close to you-touching you-made his jaw clench.
Hamzah couldn't keep pretending like it didn’t bother him; continue standing off to the side as he watched you float around the room with that guy.
What are you gonna do about it?
There was no way in hell he was going to let anyone else have her.
His footsteps were determined as he walked toward you, the sudden urge to claim you overwhelming. The man you were talking to barely noticed Hamzah's approach, still too caught up in trying to impress you.
But Hamzah did.
He stepped right in, cutting into the conversation with a calm, yet forceful presence. His voice was low, deliberate, as he addressed the man. "You don’t mind if I steal her away for a second, do you?"
Hamzah’s hand found your arm, fingers curling around it a little more forcefully than necessary as he led you a few paces away from the crowd, away from Tucker.
You wobbled slightly, the alcohol making everything feel a little hazy. You had more than you should have—hell, you weren’t even sure what you were feeling anymore, but the way Hamzah’s touch lingered, the way he was looking at you, made your head spin. The world felt dizzy and disjointed as you tried to focus on him, blinking as if you were trying to clear the fog.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the silence settling heavily between you like a secret neither of you was brave enough to voice. But Hamzah’s eyes were hot on yours, almost possessive in the way they studied you. The alcohol coursing through you made it hard to keep your focus, but you could still feel the pull of his gaze. It was suffocating.
"What’s up with you?" Hamzah asked, his voice gravelly, but something darker in it, like a storm waiting to break.
You squinted at him, the words not fully making sense in your drunken state, but you still managed to raise an eyebrow. "What’s it to you?" you slurred, feeling bold, almost defiant, even though you knew you weren’t entirely in control of yourself.
Hamzah’s anger faded slightly, replaced with something more intense. "You win, I saw you with him," he said, his voice still low, but now there was a possessive edge that made your pulse quicken. "You’ve been talking to him all night. Is this supposed to be some kind of joke?."
You tried to focus, but everything felt fuzzy. You weren't sure what to say, so you just shrugged, a little too dismissive for your own good. "I’m just having fun," you muttered, the words slipping out more freely than they should’ve. "What’s your problem?"
Hamzah closed the space between you with one fluid movement, his body heat radiating off of him, and for a moment, everything around you faded. The party noise, the laughter, the people—it was all background noise now, and it was just him.
He took another step closer, the intensity in his gaze growing. "You know what my problem is," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. He wasn’t asking anymore. "I don’t like seeing you with him. Not when I know you don’t belong to him."
You blinked, his words making your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t fully explain. "I’m… not yours," you muttered, but your words didn’t hold the conviction you’d hoped for. You weren’t even sure if they made sense, but the alcohol in your system made it hard to remember why you were fighting so hard.
Hamzah smirked, his lips curling with a knowing edge. "You keep saying that," he whispered, his voice just for you, "but I know the truth. You want me here, don’t you?"
You tilted your head back, trying to process what he was saying. The words came out before you could stop them, the alcohol in your system stripping you of any filters. "Maybe I do," you murmured, your voice thick, half-confused, half-sure of something else, something you shouldn’t want.
Hamzah’s smile widened, but it wasn’t playful anymore. It was dangerous, possessive, and hungry. "I thought so," he said softly, his hand moving to rest just above your waist, pulling you even closer, as though daring you to back away.
Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind too clouded to make sense of anything. You could feel his warmth, the weight of his presence all around you, and suddenly, you weren’t sure what you were even resisting anymore.
Hamzah leaned in, his breath brushing against your ear, and his voice was a whisper you couldn’t escape. "Let’s see if you still feel that way tomorrow."
Hamzah barely made it a step past you before he felt the tug on his wrist—light, shaky, but firm enough to stop him. He turned, looking down at you, your fingers curled around his skin, holding on like you needed him to stay.
"Wait," you mumbled, your voice softer now, less sure. Your head felt heavy, the alcohol making everything blur together, but you knew one thing for certain—you didn’t want him to leave.
Hamzah exhaled, his jaw tightening as he turned fully toward you. "Y/n, you’re drunk," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was something else there, something hesitant.
You looked up at him, your eyes glassy, unfocused, but raw with something real. "I—" You swallowed hard, words tangling in your throat. "You—you're always there. Always looking. Always… pulling me back when I try to push you away."
Hamzah’s brows furrowed slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line as he watched you struggle through your words.
"And I—" Your grip on his wrist weakened slightly. "I don't know what to do with that. With you." A shaky laugh left your lips, but it held no humor, just a quiet, painful sort of truth. "It drives me crazy, Hamzah. You drive me crazy."
Hamzah felt something twist deep in his chest, something dangerously close to unraveling.
Your fingers slipped from his wrist, your body swaying unsteadily, and before he could say anything, before he could even process what you had just admitted—you were collapsing.
"Y/n—" He caught you before you could hit the ground, his arms wrapping around you instinctively, holding you against him. His heart kicked up in his chest as he adjusted his grip, one hand supporting the back of your head while the other steadied your waist.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath, scanning your face. Your lashes fluttered, your breaths shallow, but you were still there—just barely. The weight of you against him sent a rush of something through him, something fierce and protective.
For a moment, he just looked at you. The usual sharpness in your eyes was gone, replaced by something soft, vulnerable. Your lips were slightly parted, your breathing slow, and as he brushed a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers barely grazing your skin, he realized something.
You were so pretty.
Not in the way he always told himself before—not in that passing, fleeting way he pretended didn’t affect him. But in a way that made his chest ache, in a way that made him want to hold onto you a little longer than he should.
He exhaled sharply, shaking himself out of it. "You really had to do this now, huh?" he murmured, his tone softer than he meant it to be.
Before he could even think about what to do next, a familiar voice broke through the moment.
"You need help?"
Hamzah looked up to see Tucker standing there, watching with mild concern.
Hamzah’s grip on you tightened slightly. "I got her," he said flatly, his voice leaving no room for argument.
Tucker hesitated. "Are you sure? I don’t mind—"
"I said I got her." Hamzah’s tone was sharper this time, a silent warning in his eyes. "I know where she lives. I’ll take her home."
Tucker held up his hands in surrender, taking a step back. "Alright, man. Just making sure she’s good."
Hamzah didn’t bother responding. He adjusted his hold on you, lifting you just enough to steady you against him. The thought of anyone else taking care of you, of anyone else knowing the small, familiar details about you that he did, didn’t sit right with him.
This wasn’t just an obligation or responsibility from a random fling.
This was you.
And Hamzah wasn’t letting anyone else take you from him.
---
Hamzah pushed open the door to your apartment, his grip on you steady as he led you inside. The room was dimly lit, the faint glow from the streetlights outside casting long shadows across the walls. He knew this space well—too well. The countless times he'd been here, sitting on that couch, watching you pace around while you talked business, pretending he wasn’t watching you in a way he shouldn’t have been.
Now, you were barely standing, still leaning heavily against him as he guided you toward the couch. "Alright, you’re home," he muttered, carefully lowering you onto the cushions. His hands lingered just a second longer than necessary before he forced himself to step back. "Get some sleep, Y/n."
He turned toward the door, ready to leave before this got any more complicated.
But before he could take another step, he felt a hand wrap around his wrist—again.
Hamzah barely had time to process it before you moved, your body pressing up against his, backing him up until his spine met the cool surface of the wall. His breath caught as you looked up at him, your eyes heavy-lidded but burning with something unmistakable.
Then, without hesitation, you kissed him.
It was sudden, fierce, and desperate, your hands pressing against his chest as you tilted your head, molding your lips against his like you’d been waiting for this moment just as long as he had.
Hamzah’s hands instinctively came up to your waist, gripping you tightly, but after a beat, he forced himself to pull back, his breathing unsteady. "Y/n," he exhaled, his forehead resting against yours. "You’re not in the right head space for this."
Your response was immediate, unwavering. You looked him dead in the eyes, the fog of alcohol nowhere to be found in your sharp, deliberate gaze.
"I’ve never been more sober," you murmured.
Something inside Hamzah snapped.
With a low curse under his breath, he grabbed you by the waist, lifting you clean off the ground as your legs instinctively wrapped around him. Your lips met again in a clash of heat and urgency, his hands gripping you tightly as he carried you toward the bedroom.
The back of your knees hit the mattress as he laid you down, hovering over you as his mouth found yours again, deeper this time, hungrier. His hands roamed, exploring the curves he’d only dared to touch in his imagination.
Your fingers tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer, your bodies pressed together in a feverish rhythm. The friction between you sent shivers down your spine, the heat pooling low in your stomach as he ground against you, his breath heavy in your ear.
"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your lips, his voice strained, his self-control hanging by a thread.
You pulled him down harder, your nails digging into his back. "Don’t you dare."
That was all he needed.
Hamzah groaned as he kissed you again, deep and consuming, his body moving against yours in a slow, torturous rhythm. The tension that had been building for months—years, maybe—was finally unraveling, neither of you willing to stop, neither of you willing to pretend anymore.
He trailed kisses down your jaw, his breath warm against your skin as he moved lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone. His hands gripped your waist, holding you steady beneath him as he took his time, savoring every reaction you gave him.
"You're unreal," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with want.
You shivered as he continued downward, his lips ghosting over the exposed skin of your stomach, his fingers digging into your hips as if grounding himself. The anticipation sent heat pooling in your core, every slow, deliberate touch making your breath hitch.
Tonight, there were no boundaries. No rules. No one to remind the two of you that Hamzah is currently kissing down the body of his manager and how widely inappropriate that is.
Hamzah knew this was dangerous. Knew this was the kind of mistake that couldn't be undone. But with the way you were looking at him—like he was the only thing you wanted—none of it seemed to matter.
His lips continued their slow descent, dragging over the soft skin of your stomach, lingering just long enough to make you shiver. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady beneath him, his breath warm against you.
Despite him starting to become self-aware of his current actions, as Hamzah looked up at you, drinking in the way your chest rose and fell, the heat in your gaze matching his own, he knew there was no stopping now.
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a/n: I hope y'all liked this! I'm gonna keep edging y'all with this series lol. Part 4 coming soon <3333
