𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇 ( NAMOR X READER ) PT.1

𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗅𝗅𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀:

— 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗇 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀, 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝗀𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝟣𝟪+ 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌, 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗀𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀— 𝗂 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝖼𝗄.

—𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗎𝗇𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗌𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍, 𝗆𝗒 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎.

𝖣𝖮 𝖭𝖮𝖳 𝖨𝖭𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖠𝖢𝖳 𝖶𝖨𝖳𝖧 ME 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗋, 𝖺 𝖹1𝖮𝖭𝖨𝖲𝖳, 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝗈𝗉𝗁𝗈𝖻1𝖼, 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗁𝗈𝖻1𝖼, 𝗋𝖺𝖼1𝗌𝗍, 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗈𝗀𝗒𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺, 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍 ?

𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾:

— 𝗂 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗂𝗍 𝗂𝗌 𝗇𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗂𝖼 (𝖾𝗑𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾: 𝗒𝗎𝗃𝗂 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿)

— 𝗂 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗎𝗉 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌

— 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝟣𝟪 + 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝟤𝟢 (𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆, 𝗃𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗎𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗍𝖼)

—𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 (𝗈𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗈𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋), 𝗍𝗈𝗑𝗂𝖼 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉, 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖺𝖽𝗎𝗅𝗍 , 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋 , 𝗉𝟣𝗌𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄 (𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗂𝖽𝖾𝖺) 𝖧𝖠𝖱𝖣 𝖭𝖮.

𝖠𝖫𝖲𝖮 𝖱𝖤𝖠𝖣:

— 𝗂𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝟤𝟢

—𝗂 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

— 𝗂 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇/𝗅𝗂𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀

—𝗂 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗂𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗇𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍

—𝗂 𝗍𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖾𝗑𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗆𝖾, 𝗂𝗇 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗒

𝖱𝖤𝖰𝖴𝖤𝖲𝖳𝖲:

𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗂 𝖺𝗆 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗂 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇

© 𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗂-𝖻𝗎𝗇 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦. 𝖣𝖮 𝖭𝖮𝖳 , 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 , 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗌, 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖾𝗍𝖼 , 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

PART 3|| ⭑.ᐟ 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌| 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋 ! 𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗑 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝟣𝟪+ [MDNI]

— (𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗂𝗆𝗒𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗑.)

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒...in which you are a cam girl and he is your favorite viewer OR in which you are a final year college student and he is your new professor ♡

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌... smut, rough sex, oral sex (f and m),possessive sex, hair-pulling, vaginal fingering, spanking, masturbating( f and m), doggy style, mating press, language (these warnings are for all 4 parts)

also, please do like, reblog, and comment. i love to hear your thoughts about this <33

word count: 10.2k

As you enter the college hall, a familiar blend of nerves and anticipation washes over you, a feeling that has lingered since last night. The memory of your earlier slip sends a wave of heat to your cheeks, and you struggle to reconcile the embarrassment with the thrill of the moment.

'Professor' you had moaned during your cam session, the words escaping your lips before you even realised what you had said. Lost in a whirlwind of illicit fantasies about Alhaitham, you hadn’t registered the slip until it was too late.

Great. They probably think I have a professor kink. A thought that, while tempting to entertain, is one you refuse to acknowledge fully. The mere idea of facing Professor Alhaitham after your indiscretion makes you want to combust or just fucking disappear.

Last night, you had surrendered to the allure of your fantasies about him—four times—each time caught in a delusion about a man who, in reality, would never see you as a viable partner.

One you are his student.

Two, he seems to possess an almost otherworldly quality, as if he has emerged from the ether without parents to guide him.

Three, he exudes an aura that suggests he wouldn’t be interested in dating someone younger than himself.

And four, he is your professor.

He embodies everything you desire in a man: handsome, intelligent, and caring. You shake your head, inhaling deeply to clear the clutter of thoughts centered solely on him. If you’re going to survive this day without embarrassing yourself in his presence, you need to rein in your thoughts and emotions. With a confident smile, you push the doors open, your gaze sweeping across the room until it settles on him at the front.

“Fuck.”

Your resolve crumbles as your eyes lock onto Professor Alhaitham, who appears even more captivating today. The sight of him—tall and composed, absorbed in his notes—takes your breath away. He is already there, exuding an air of calm as he flips through his documents, completely unfazed. Dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt, the top button undone, revealing a hint of his collarbone, and fitted black slacks, he looks effortlessly sophisticated.

His tousled hair frames his face perfectly, and his glasses perch on the bridge of his nose as he reads. 'Please bend me over your desk and take me like the—' Your thoughts freeze as his gaze suddenly meets yours. In that moment, something shifts. His expression remains largely unchanged, yet the flicker of recognition in his eyes sends a jolt through you, leaving your heart racing and your mind reeling.

“Well, well,” he remarked, a dry amusement threading through his voice as he lifted his gaze to meet yours. “It’s so nice to see you on time for once.” The memory of your first encounter flooded back, a moment etched in your mind when he had delivered a sharp insult that stung more than you’d like to admit.

Your cheeks burned with lingering embarrassment, but you couldn’t resist the urge to scoff, rolling your eyes dramatically as you made your way across the room to your usual seat.

“What can I say?” you retorted, a thick layer of sarcasm coating your words. “I wouldn’t want to deprive myself of another opportunity to bask in the brilliance of your lectures.”

A faint smirk danced at the corners of his mouth, his eyes glinting with an intelligence that was both sharp and playful. “Careful,” he replied, his voice smooth as silk, each word deliberately measured. “Too much sarcasm, and the first-years might start thinking you’re only here for my company.”

Maybe I am here only for your company, you thought, directing him a subtle glare that barely masked the tumult of thoughts swirling in your mind. Memories of last night crept in, and you fought to anchor yourself back in the present, pushing aside the alluring distractions that threatened to pull you under.

His casual yet cutting remark sent a wave of heat to your cheeks despite your best efforts to remain unfazed. You opened your mouth to shoot back a snarky response, but the way his gaze lingered on you—intense and probing—made you falter, if only for a fleeting moment.

There was an unmistakable energy in his eyes—a blend of challenge and teasing—that left you feeling slightly unsettled.

“You seem a bit on edge today,” Alhaitham observed, his tone casual, yet there was a note of curiosity beneath it. “Oh, I just didn’t sleep well last night,” you deflected, the lie slipping easily from your lips as you tried to mask the real reason behind your unease. “Too much caffeine before bed.”

Alhaitham hums thoughtfully, a knowing glint in his eyes that sends a shiver down your spine. “Caffeine, huh?” he muses, tilting his head slightly as if weighing your words.  “I suppose it’s easy to blame caffeine for sleepless nights. But you know, it’s often the mind that keeps us awake,” he replies, his voice smooth.

“Maybe you should try clearing your thoughts before bed instead.” He leans in slightly,  “Or do you have other distractions keeping you up?” His tone is casual, but the underlying implication sends your heart racing.

You couldn't show that his words affected you, your mind racing about last night. You felt paranoid like as if he knew but you knew that was impossible as you meet his gaze, a mixture of surprise and intrigue washing over you. “I guess you could say that,” you reply, your voice steady despite the flutter in your stomach. “But it’s not always easy to silence a restless mind, especially with everything going on.” You lean back slightly, trying to play it cool.

You wanted to high five yourself for the sleek answer as you watched his expression change, your eyes focused everywhere but on his. “What about you? You seem like someone who has it all figured out.” Alhaitham chuckles softly, the sound low and almost intimate. “Is that what you think?” he asks, his eyes never leaving you even as you pointedly avoid his gaze. “I might be good at keeping things in order, but even I can’t escape a wandering mind sometimes.” He pauses, watching you fidget slightly. “Though I find that facing what’s on your mind is often more effective than avoiding it,” he adds, his voice dipping just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You shift uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze, heart racing, before deciding to escape the tension. You force a nervous smile as you slowly inch your way towards your desk. "Haha, wise words from a wise man,” you say with a light laugh, hoping to ease the tension, but the moment the words leave your mouth, you cringe internally.

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “That’s a bit of a shallow observation, don’t you think?” His tone is calm, but there’s an edge of intellectual superiority that stings. “I expected something more insightful.” Your cheeks flush in embarrassment as you finally reach your seat, sinking into it quickly.

You drop your bag onto the desk, hoping the conversation is over, feeling the weight of his comment linger as you try to brush it off. you dropped your bag onto the desk and slid into your seat, opening your laptop to prepare the slides for today’s lesson. The early morning email from Alhaitham had come as a surprise, his note brief and to the point, requesting you to compile his last-minute thoughts into a presentation. He didn’t have time to do it himself.

“You could have sent me this last night, I spent my whole morning putting this together for you.” you whined, the words had slipped out before you could catch them, an echo of your frustration. “Oh, I didn’t want to worry you,” he had replied, his tone deceptively nonchalant. “I kept you late last night with our little dinner.” There had been a pause, a shift in his words.

“You probably had other, more important things to do after that.” Again, your paranoia ate at you. The implications hung in the air like a heavy fog, and heat rushed to your cheeks as your mind drifted back to your cam session, remembering the way you’d moaned his title for your audience. You turned back to the slides, flustered, trying to focus on the task at hand but you couldn't help but reply back. “Well, I would have still had it done,” you said defiantly, straightening in your seat and meeting his gaze.

“Then you would have probably slept throughout the whole morning and ended up coming late for my first-year lecture,” he countered, his voice smooth and unbothered. “Better than listening to you drone on like a monotone robot,” you replied, a smirk tugging at your lips as you leaned back in your chair.

“Touché,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. He straightened up, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes. "But if I’m a robot, then that makes you my delightful assistant—crafted to enhance my teaching.” He says, his large body shadowing over yours as he stood infront of the desk you sat at, he tilts his head as if sizing you up.

“Crafted, huh?” you retorted, crossing your arms defiantly. “Maybe you should send me to a repair shop then; I’m definitely malfunctioning.” You raised an eyebrow, maintaining your playful stance, but the heat of his gaze made your heart race.

For a brief moment, the atmosphere shifted, the playful banter charged with an energy that sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you draw your focus back on your laptop. You didn’t notice the subtle knowing smile that crept onto Alhaitham’s face as he walked around your desk, the air around him radiating warmth.

Then he stood behind you, leaning forward with one hand bracing the desk just beside your arm, the other slipping into his pocket. The proximity was almost suffocating, and before you could stop it, your mind drifted—back to last night, when you’d been in front of your camera, your body on display for your audience. Your face flushed at the memory, heart thudding wildly in your chest.

How could you think of it now? You’d been lost in your own little world last night, playing to the camera, murmuring 'Professor' in a breathy tone that was meant for faceless strangers.

But now, with him standing right here, close enough that you could smell his clean, woodsy scent, the recollection of your voice—his title—was all you could hear. Your breath hitched. The warmth of him, the way he leaned in just slightly, his scent swirling around you—it was almost too much.

Your heart raced, and for a second, the boundary between reality and fantasy blurred. You swallowed hard, biting your lip as your mind drifted to the idea of his body pressed behind you, his hands gripping your waist tightly— surely to leave his hand prints behind as he takes you from behind, the strong harsh thrusts of his hips slamming into your ass, his teeth biting into the exposed skin of your shoulder as he — A soft pat on your head jolted you back to reality, and you blinked, heat rushing to your cheeks.

The touch was so unexpected, so casual, that it shocked you back to the present. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “The slides look great. You’ve done well.” The praise hit you like a jolt of electricity, making your pulse stutter. There was something about the way he said it—calm, composed, yet laced with a teasing edge that made heat creep up your neck.

You could feel your entire body react, the tension coiling in your stomach as his hand lingered for just a moment longer than necessary before pulling away. You turned to look at him, to say thank you but instead your words were stuck in your throat. His face was inches away from yours, your eyes widen slightly.

“And also stop letting your mind wander while I talk to you; I’d prefer to think you’re hanging onto my every word,” Alhaitham said, his intense gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

You could hardly focus on the lecture as your mind spiraled into uncharted territory. 'Yeah, I’m actually thinking of hanging onto you as you push me against the wall and take control. ' The thought sent a rush of heat through your cheeks, and you quickly averted your gaze, trying to suppress the flustered smile threatening to break free.

“Right, because your words are the only thing worth hanging onto,” you shot back, attempting to sound more confident than you felt. “Next, you’ll be telling me you could give a TED talk on the art of monotony.” He chuckled softly, the sound low and amused.

“Monotony is a skill, you know. But perhaps I should consider changing my approach, just to keep your attention.” His smirk widened, and you could see a glint of mischief in his eyes as he added, “Or perhaps you need a more stimulating environment to stay engaged.” As he stepped back, the distance between you returned to its normal state, but the warmth lingered in your cheeks, along with the remnants of the heat his proximity had ignited.

For a second, you were grateful he couldn’t see your face when he turned his back towards you—flushed as it was with the sudden flood of thoughts—thoughts you shouldn’t be having in a classroom.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand, even as your heart raced, and your mind replayed his words. Good girl. You wanted to melt into the floor. The lecture began soon after, and despite your best efforts, your thoughts kept drifting.

Alhaitham’s voice was steady, commanding the room with his usual composed authority, but you found it hard to concentrate. Instead of taking notes, you doodled absently in the margins of your notebook, your mind wandering between the slides and the lingering warmth of his touch, the teasing praise he’d given you.

You had barely noticed the end of the lesson when the shuffle of students leaving the room pulled you back to reality. As you began to gather your things, Alhaitham, ever perceptive, leaned over and plucked the sheet of paper you’d been doodling on from the desk.

“Doodling, I see?” His voice carried that same air of dry amusement, his brow arching slightly as he looked at the aimless swirls of ink. “Not exactly an artistic masterpiece, I suppose you’d rather doodle than listen to me" he said, his voice smooth and teasing, “I could always give you a bunch of thesis papers to mark instead.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to resist. “Wouldn't want to ruin your flawless teaching reputation, Professor.” You gestured dramatically toward the stacks of papers on his desk. He tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eye.

“At least I’m not the one doodling during a lecture, potentially ruining my students’ futures.” He crossed his arms, feigning a look of mock disappointment. You let out a soft laugh, reaching to take the paper back, but he held it just out of reach, his expression maddeningly calm.

“I’m not here to make your lectures look good,” you shot back, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “I’m here because I have to be.” He gave a quiet chuckle, folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket like it was something valuable.

“Well,” he said, that same infuriating smirk tugging at his lips, “you’ve been doing quite well, as my assistant. Though I have to admit, your work ethic sometimes leaves room for improvement.” You narrowed your eyes at him, the subtle possessiveness in his tone slipping past you entirely.

“My work ethic?” you echoed, giving him an exaggerated look of mock offense. “I’d say you’re lucky to have me.” His smirk widened, the faintest hint of something unreadable flickering in his eyes.

“I never said otherwise.” There was a brief pause, and then, casually—almost too casually—he added, “I enjoyed your company last night.” Your heart skipped a beat.

He’d said it so smoothly, without a second thought, but it lingered in the air between you, heavy with implication. Your mind raced back to last night, the way he’d looked at you when you’d shared that quiet moment, the conversation last night felt just a little too intimate.

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond. And then, with a small, teasing smile, you asked, “And... what would that make this, then? Another ‘company outing’?”

Does that mean he sees you more that his student ? Maybe he now saw you as a friend, that was a good step to getting closer to him ? Correct ?

He paused, his eyes flickering with something deeper, something darker. “Another… occasion for your assistance,” he replied smoothly, though the weight of his words seemed to carry a deeper meaning. “In a slightly different context.” Your breath caught at the subtle, suggestive undertone in his voice.

The way he said it—so calm, so controlled—made your heart race faster. “But not today. I have other plans for us,” Alhaitham said, his voice low and deliberate. Your brows furrowed as you processed his words, the weight of it hanging in the air.

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Oh really? Should I be concerned or flattered?” you shot back, sarcasm lacing your tone, though the flutter in your chest betrayed your casual front.

Alhaitham’s lips curved slightly. “Depends on how much you enjoy surprises,” he replied, his gaze still holding yours, the tension between you unmistakable.

“But what kind of surprise?” you asked, a hint of sarcasm in your tone, raising an eyebrow at him. Alhaitham’s gaze remained steady, lips curving into a faint smirk.

“Marking,” he replied simply, his tone casual, though there was an edge to it you couldn’t quite place. You blinked, unimpressed.

“Marking? That’s the big surprise?” He shrugged, leaning back slightly. “What? It’s important work,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, but the way he said it made you feel like there was something more lurking beneath the surface.

The walk back to his office was thick with tension, the quiet hallway amplifying every footstep. The college was nearly deserted, only the hum of distant lighting and the faint echo of their steps filling the space. The cool evening air filtered through the open windows, contrasting with the warmth that radiated between them.

Alhaitham towered over you, the height difference making you feel small but far from insignificant in his presence. When he unlocked the door to his office and gestured for you to enter, you weren’t prepared for what you saw—a pool table, sleek and out of place, dominating the room.

His office was a mix of academic and personal space, bookshelves lining the walls, his desk neatly stacked with papers, but the pool table stole your attention. You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him.

"Oh well this is new...I didn’t exactly peg you for someone who plays pool." Alhaitham grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

"Professor...Kaveh’s doing. The idiot’s redoing his office and shoved it in here until he’s done." His tone was laced with annoyance as he shrugged off his coat, tossing it onto a nearby chair.

He moved with calculated ease, and when he turned to lock the door behind him, his gaze lingered on you, darker than usual. You stood there, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, feeling the weight of his attention.

You chuckled softly, taking a moment to admire the table’s polished surface. “I’ve never played before,” you confessed, glancing up at him. His usual detached demeanor softened slightly, something unfamiliar flickering in his eyes. "Well, why don’t I show you how it’s done? It’s Friday, after all. We can relax today instead of working." he said quietly, walking toward the table.

His voice was calm, but there was a dangerous undercurrent that made your pulse quicken.

"But what about the papers you wanted to mark ? 'The suprise' Don't you need to submit them soon?" you question, Alhaitham gazed back up at you and than at the clock on the wall.

"It's past my work hours. Once it hits five and I have no other obligations, I clock out." He says nonchalantly, your brows furrowed as you remember all those days he kept you way after 5 doing tedious and even sometimes silly tasks that kept you with him in his office till 7 or even later.

You didn't say anything as the thought of spending more time with him, just the two of you in this quiet office, sent a thrill through you. You glanced around, noticing how the dim lighting created a cozy atmosphere “You know what? Why not?” you replied, a grin spreading across your face as you finally relaxed to the idea or playing a simple game of pool with your professor.

Alhaitham smiled back, and you could feel the warmth of his gaze as he moved to set up the game. As he lined up the balls, you couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement.

This was an opportunity to see a different side of him, to explore the uncharted territory that lay between you. “Let’s see if you have any hidden talents,” he teased, a playful spark in his eyes a contrast to his usual dull and bored gaze.

You watched him as he lined up the balls, his movements so fluid and confident. There was no turning back now. The tension in the room seemed to thicken with every second as he handed you the cue stick, his fingers brushing against yours for a moment, sending a spark of electricity through your skin.

“Stand here,” he instructed, guiding you to the side of the table. “Grip the cue like this.” You tried to follow his directions, but your hands were unsteady, and your mind was racing too fast to fully focus on what he was saying. The room felt smaller, the air heavy and warm.

You could feel his presence behind you, the soft hum of his voice brushing against your ears as he explained the game. You attempted to hit the ball, but it only wobbled awkwardly across the table. Heat rose to your cheeks as you let out a nervous laugh, glancing at him sheepishly.

“I told you I wasn’t any good at this.” Alhaitham didn’t laugh. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze locking onto yours in a way that made your breath catch. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice lower now, almost a whisper.

He walks towards you but pauses. "Can I show you how to postion yourself?” His words were simple but they made your heartbeat faster. With just a simple nod of your head, Alhaitham slid behind you, you felt the warmth of his body pressed against yours— his chest pressed against your back as his hand reaches for yours that held the cue.

Your heart pounding in your chest as your hands turned clammy, trembling slightly under the weight of his. His large hand enveloped yours on the cue, steadying it. Your legs felt weak beneath you, and the strong scent of him washed over you like a wave, almost intoxicating. His chest pressed against your back—much closer than necessary—much closer than needed and the warmth of his breath ghosted across the nape of your neck, sending a cascade of goosebumps down your spine.

His grip tightened around your hand, guiding the cue, while his other hand held yours at the end of it. He bent forward, pressing his body against yours even more as he aligned you with the ball, leaving no space between the two of you. Your eyes widened, the sudden realization hitting you that you were completely caged beneath him, his strength and presence overwhelming.

Your mind raced, thoughts spinning out of control, each one more dangerous than the last. You were dangerously close to your professor, in a position you shouldn't even be in, it felt very intimate.

You had to leave before you overthought things, before you said or did something you'd regret.

“P-Pr-professor, it’s getting late,” you stammered nervously, trying to find your voice, but it came out as little more than a squeak. Instead of releasing you, his grip on your hands tightened, keeping you firmly in place as he aimed the cue at the ball.

“Oh?” he murmured, his voice deep and unsettlingly calm. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear as he added, “Late, you say?”

Before you could respond, he cut you off with a chilling whisper.

“Are you getting late to go record yourself?”

Your heart stuttered, skipping a beat as your body went numb. A cold shiver ran down your spine. “W-what?” you whispered, your voice barely audible, as panic surged through you. He smirked, the curve of his lips brushing your ear as he readied your hands and his to hit the ball.

“Do I have to repeat myself?” His voice was smooth, teasing. “Maybe I should be clearer. Are you getting late to go record yourself... and play with your cunt while thinking about your professor?” Your breath caught in your throat, a gasp stuck in your chest at the revelation of his words and the use of such a profanity coming out of his mouth.

As if on cue, he suddenly hit the ball, the clinking sound of the collision echoing in the tense silence. You stood there, frozen, pale as a ghost, your mind struggling to process what he had just said.

“H-how?” you whispered, your voice weak, barely holding on. “I’ve known you as Ms. Bunny for a while now. Three months, to be exact.” His voice was low, almost conversational, as if he were discussing something mundane. “I was never into things like cam girls, but you... you caught my eye. And as if fate threw the ball into my court, you walked right into my hands. My perfect little bunny.” Your breath hitched, your grip loosening on the cue as it clattered softly against the table.

His hands slid slowly, deliberately down your sides, his fingers tracing the curve of your hips, sending another wave of shivers through you. His lips hovered near the nape of your neck, so close you could feel the warmth of his breath, as if he were on the verge of kissing you. And in that moment, everything in you screamed to run, but you couldn’t move—trapped beneath him, caged by his words and touch. You were like a bunny caught in a wolf’s den—small, trembling, and helpless, every instinct telling you to flee, but your body refused to respond.

Your pulse thudded in your ears, drowning out everything else as your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps. His presence towered over you, predatory, his touch both dangerous and deliberate, pinning you in place as if he could snap you up in an instant.

The air around you thickened, suffocating, as if the walls themselves were closing in. His breath on your neck, hot and teasing, sent another shiver coursing through you. You felt exposed, vulnerable, as though you were laid bare in front of him, no escape in sight.

His every movement was controlled, his hands firm and sure, while you were frozen, like prey paralyzed under the hunter's gaze, knowing you were outmatched yet powerless to resist. You felt his hands tighten around your waist as he suddenly turned you to face him, the movement both swift and controlled.

Your heart pounded violently, and before you could catch your breath, his thumb brushed against your bottom lip, pressing gently. His gaze locked onto yours, dark and unreadable, as if he could see through every defense you tried to put up.

"You're going to report me to the college ?" your voice trembling as tears threatening to spill from your eyes as your whole life flashed before your eyes—ruined.

“Report you?” he murmured, voice smooth like velvet, but the underlying tone was sharp, dangerously confident. “Why would I do that to my favorite student… and cam girl?” His thumb pressed a little harder against your lip, teasing, his eyes dragging slowly over your face as if savoring your reaction.

You were trembling, every inch of you on high alert, but then his next words slipped past his lips, low and intimate, sending a wave of heat straight to your core.

“You’re too valuable to me in both of your roles,” he whispered, leaning closer, his breath grazing your skin. “But I wonder…” He paused, his thumb pulling at your lip ever so slightly.

“Do you tremble like this when you’re thinking of me late at night?” Your thighs squeezed together involuntarily, the tension overwhelming, a response you couldn’t hide from him.

He smirked, clearly aware of the effect he had on you, his gaze never leaving yours as he leaned in closer, his presence suffocating in its intensity. Your stomach dropped, your entire body flushing with heat as you remembered last night—your body tangled in sheets, your lips parting with a moan as you fantasized about him.

You had no idea he was watching, no idea that he was aware of how deeply you wanted him. His eyes darkened with an intensity that made your pulse quicken.Your mind raced, a whirlwind of shock and confusion.

You felt exposed, vulnerable, as heat rushed to your cheeks. His gaze burned into yours, every word he said weaving a thread of tension that seemed to wrap tighter and tighter around the two of you.

“Every moan, every sigh,” he whispered, his voice dark and dangerously soft, “it intrigued me. You’ve always had a way of captivating an audience, captivating me.” The air between you crackled, the heat of his body so close to yours igniting every nerve.

His pale turquoise eyes, ringed with that striking shade of orange, roamed your face, lingering on your parted lips, on the flush of your cheeks, and the way your breath hitched in anticipation. His thumb traced your jawline slowly, sending shivers down your spine.

You couldn’t move, couldn’t think—only feel the magnetic pull of his presence, the intensity of his gaze. “I know you desire me as much as I desire you,” he stated, voice deep and sure, his eyes drinking in your reaction, locking onto the tears that glossed your wide eyes.

His words sent a surge of heat rushing through you, and before you could deny or confirm, his hand was already moving, trailing down your neck, fingers grazing the edge of your shirt. The tension built with each passing second, and just when you thought you couldn’t take it any longer, he leaned in.

His lips hovered over yours, his breath warm and teasing against your mouth. You felt every inch of him so close, his chest brushing against yours, the heat of his body seeping into yours. He hesitated for only a heartbeat, giving you a moment to pull away if you wanted to—but you didn’t.

Instead, you found yourself leaning in, closing the gap as if drawn by an invisible force. And then his lips captured yours. The kiss was slow at first, his mouth moving gently against yours, testing, teasing. But the moment you responded, his grip on you tightened, pulling you closer, the kiss deepening with an intensity that sent your heart racing.

His other hand slipped to the small of your back, fingers pressing against the fabric of your shirt, urging you closer to him. As Alhaitham’s lips moved against yours, the kiss deepened. His tongue slid between your parted lips, meeting yours in a slow, sensual dance. The heat of the moment overwhelmed you, and you responded instinctively, your tongue tangling with his in a battle for dominance that made your head spin.

Every touch of his tongue against yours sent shockwaves through your body, a fire igniting in your core as you pressed closer to him, seeking more. His large hands roamed over your back, one sliding up to grip the back of your neck, holding you in place as he kissed you deeper, almost possessively. His other hand trailed down your side, fingers grazing the edge of your exposed skin, sending goosebumps across your body.

The kiss was intoxicating, and every movement of his tongue against yours sent a surge of electricity through your veins. His lips parted slightly, and his tongue dipped back into your mouth, exploring you with an almost deliberate slowness that made you weak in the knees. The warmth of his breath mixed with yours, the taste of him lingering on your lips as he pressed his body closer, trapping you against him.

You moaned softly into the kiss, the sound swallowed by his mouth as his hand moved to your waist, pulling you against him in a way that made your heart race even faster. His grip tightened as his tongue teased yours, the sensation of it sliding against yours both tender and demanding, filling you with a longing you hadn’t felt before.

You felt utterly consumed by him, the tension between you unbearable as his mouth worked expertly against yours, stealing every thought from your mind. Just as he reached to unhook your bra, his lips still pressed against yours, there was a knock at the door. Alhaitham paused for a moment, but instead of pulling away, he groaned lowly against your lips, his tongue still teasing yours as he kept you trapped in the kiss.

His hand, which had been ready to undo the clasp of your bra, stayed firmly in place as he pulled you even closer, as if refusing to be interrupted. He clearly wasn’t finished yet. You whimpered softly, the knock on the door barely registering as your senses were overwhelmed by his touch and the intoxicating way his tongue moved against yours.

Another knock echoed through the room, louder this time. Alhaitham swore under his breath, finally pulling away from the kiss but not letting go of you. His forehead rested against yours for a brief moment, his warm breath mingling with yours. "I locked the door," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, as if to reassure you that no one could just walk in.

But the knock persisted. With a frustrated sigh, Alhaitham glanced toward the door, clearly annoyed at the interruption. His eyes, now darker with unspoken desire, flickered back to you. "Get under the desk," he ordered softly, his voice carrying a weight that left no room for argument.

"You’re not exactly in a presentable state." You scrambled to obey, quickly adjusting your half-open shirt and ducking under his desk. The tension in the room was palpable, your heart still pounding from the kiss as you crouched down, hidden from view.

Alhaitham straightened himself up, his movements smooth and composed, though you could tell he was still agitated. His fingers combed through his hair, and with a deep breath, he crossed the room, unlocking the door and opening it to reveal Kaveh on the other side.

Kaveh strolled in uninvited, his presence filling the room like an obnoxious breeze. His platinum blonde hair caught the dim light of the office, gleaming as he leaned against the doorframe. He wore sleek trousers, the fabric light and fine, like silk. They crinkled softly as he shifted his weight, standing with one hip cocked. His shirt, loosely untucked, made him look both casual and out of place at this hour. The texture of his trousers was smooth, almost shimmering with the light sheen that played across the fabric, emphasizing the ease with which Kaveh carried himself.

Alhaitham’s jaw tightened in irritation. Without missing a beat, he subtly moved back toward his desk, his eyes glancing down at you hidden beneath it. Your heart raced, pulse quickening as you pressed yourself further into the shadows.

"Really, Kaveh," Alhaitham said, his voice carefully composed though laced with clear annoyance, "was there something urgent you needed?" He casually lowered himself into the desk chair, positioning himself in front of you.

As he did, his thighs brushed against either side of your face, enclosing your head between them. Your breath hitched, eyes widening in shock at how intimately close you suddenly were. The warmth of his body radiated against you, and the scent of him was stronger here, enveloping you entirely.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, your pulse racing at this unexpected situation, and you had to fight to stay still, afraid even the slightest movement would give you away. From above, Alhaitham sat calmly, looking at Kaveh with practiced nonchalance, though the tension in the room was palpable.

He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly in his chair, though the motion pressed the hard surface of his leg brushing against your chest as you tucked yourself away.

The space was small, the cool wood above your head a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from Alhaitham’s body. Your breath was shallow, heart pounding as you tried to settle into the cramped space. You could feel the steady rhythm of his pulse under your palm where it rested on his thigh, the taut muscle flexing as he moved to close the gap between his chair and the desk.

His thigh muscles were hard under your hand, and the scent of his clean, crisp cologne was intoxicating in such proximity. The subtle shift of fabric against your cheek made you hyperaware of how close you were to his crotch. “Alhaitham,” Kaveh huffed our, annoyed, “What’re you still doing here? I figured you’d have packed up like everyone else. Or are you hoping to sulk in solitude all night?” Alhaitham’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I prefer quiet. Unlike some people.”

Kaveh’s gaze darted to the pool table shoved against the far wall. “Speaking of quiet, how’s your student? I haven’t seen her around. Skipping out on you already?” He smirked, and Alhaitham’s jaw tightened. “She’s too busy working on her ‘mediocre distractions’ to bother showing up,” Alhaitham quipped dryly, a hint of annoyance bleeding into his voice.

He clearly didn’t like being put on the spot, and the casual insult about you grated on your nerves. Without thinking, you bit down on his thigh—just enough for him to feel it, just enough to remind him you were still there, listening.

He jolted, his leg twitching under your bite, a low gasp escaping his lips. The sudden rush of sensation caused his composure to falter, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk briefly. His sharp intake of breath made his pulse quicken, and you felt it through the taut muscles under your fingers.

Kaveh’s eyes narrowed, catching the subtle shift in Alhaitham’s expression. “Did you just hurt yourself sitting down? You’re not that old, are you?” Kaveh teased, eyes flicking from Alhaitham’s tightly clenched hands back to his face. “I... hit my knee,” Alhaitham muttered, the words forced, as if he were struggling to keep his voice steady.

“Waiting for you to leave is apparently hazardous to my health.” Kaveh scoffed, but his eyes twinkled with amusement. “It’s amazing you even have any patience left. Though, you really shouldn’t insult your assistant. From what I’ve seen, she does all the heavy lifting around here.” A wave of irritation surged through you, but your biting had only seemed to amuse Alhaitham more.

His thigh tensed beneath you as his fingers briefly brushed against the underside of the desk, almost as if warning you to stop. You could feel the heat pooling low in your belly, torn between the embarrassment of the situation and the thrill of knowing that Kaveh was completely oblivious to your presence, hidden between Alhaitham’s legs.

“You’ve got no room to talk, Kaveh,” Alhaitham retorted coolly, trying to regain his composure despite the lingering sensation of your teeth on his skin.

“How are your selfcations going? Found anyone to tolerate you for longer than five minutes yet?” Kaveh’s face twisted into a mock pout. “I won’t grace you with my presence for a week, so enjoy the silence. And don’t forget to water my plants while I’m away.”

As Kaveh turned to leave, his eyes lingering on the desk for a moment longer than comfortable, Alhaitham shifted in his seat, pulling his chair closer to ensure you stayed completely hidden. You were tucked tightly between his thighs, your lips so close to the heat of his growing arousal that you could almost feel it through his trousers. The tension was unbearable, your heart thundering in your chest as you struggled to stay still, your mind racing with the illicit nature of it all.

Kaveh finally let out an exaggerated sigh. “Well, I’ll leave you to your brooding. But don’t think you can insult your student without consequences. She’s probably the best thing you’ve got going for you.”

With a wave, Kaveh sauntered out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Alhaitham exhaled heavily, his body relaxing only slightly. His hand fell to your head, fingers threading into your hair, gripping just tight enough to send a shiver down your spine. You looked up at him from your position between his thighs, your face flushed, breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

When he glanced down at you, there was no mischievous glint in his eyes—only something darker, more consuming. His gaze roamed over your swollen lips, the rise and fall of your chest, and the way you still knelt between his legs, completely at his mercy.

“And you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shudder through you, “biting my thigh like that—what were you thinking?”

The look in his eyes was intense, magnetic, pulling you in. His fingers tightened their hold on your hair, tugging lightly as he leaned forward just enough that your breaths mingled, warm and shallow.

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “Maybe I wanted to see how you’d react.”

His lips quirked up, not in amusement, but in acknowledgment of the challenge. “Dangerous game, little one,” he whispered, his thumb brushing against the corner of your lip, smearing the remnants of your earlier kiss. 

Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, the creak of the leather barely audible over the heavy, charged silence in the room. The air felt thick with tension, your face now so close to his growing arousal that your breaths mingled with the scent of him. The heat radiating from him made your pulse quicken, and when his hand moved to his belt, your heart stuttered in your chest.

His hand was steady, the fingers long, elegant but strong, with a certain grace as they worked the leather through the buckle. The light from the overhead lamp cast shadows across the veins on the back of his hand, tracing the subtle ridges of muscle. The buckle clicked open, and his fingers deftly undid the button of his trousers, the fabric parting to reveal the dark material of his boxers beneath.

He was thick and large underneath the thin material, your eyes trailing from the tip and towards the end— where his heavy balls with with cum laid beneath the thin material that covered it.

He paused, his eyes dropping to meet yours. There was no hesitation in his movements, but his gaze—intense and searching—lingered on you, as though he were gauging your reaction, watching for the smallest flicker of apprehension. But your eyes, heavy with arousal, met his in silent understanding, the tension crackling between you like a live wire.

His voice was deep, low as he commanded, “Just your mouth.”

A spark of nervousness shot through you at his words, and before you could stop yourself, you whispered, “What if someone walks in?”

A quiet, almost condescending chuckle slipped from his lips as his fingers slid into your hair, gripping just firmly enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You seem to thrive on the thrill of it,” he murmured, his tone as sharp as ever but layered with something darker, something that made the ache between your thighs all the more unbearable. “Now use that smart mouth of yours efficiently.”

His words settled over you like a challenge, and despite the flush of nerves still heating your skin, you leaned forward. Your lips ghosted over the soft fabric of his boxers, a tentative kiss pressed to the tip of the hard cock beneath. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed under your touch, but his grip on your hair remained steady, guiding, controlling. His breath hitched as your lips moved lower, your mouth parting to mouth along the outline of him, and you could feel the power shift in the way his fingers flexed in your hair.

This was different from anything you'd ever experienced before. The intimacy of it, the raw tension—it was overwhelming, and yet, you found yourself craving more, your pulse pounding in your ears as the space between you dissolved into something electric.

The fabric of his boxers was soft against your lips, but beneath it, the hardness of his cock was undeniable, pulsing with heat. You could feel his body tensing with every kiss and suckle you placed along his length, teasing, testing. The scent of him filled your senses, heady and intoxicating, and the weight of his hand in your hair kept you grounded, pulling you deeper into the moment.

Alhaitham’s breath came out in a slow, controlled exhale, but there was a tension to it, a subtle hitch that betrayed his usually calm exterior. He leaned back further in his chair, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he watched you. His grip tightened, fingers threading deeper into your hair, guiding you, though not forcefully. It was a subtle command, the unspoken desire behind it clear as his thumb grazed along your scalp, sending shivers down your spine.

You pressed another kiss to his boxers, this time bolder, your lips lingering a little longer. The heat radiating from his skin was almost overwhelming, and you could feel your own pulse quicken in response. Your heart raced, your body humming with a mix of nerves and anticipation as you leaned closer, letting your breath warm the space just above the waistband.

"Good," he murmured, voice low, vibrating with something restrained. His other hand had moved to his side, resting casually on the arm of his chair, but his fingers twitched, betraying the tension running through him. "But don’t be afraid to commit. I didn’t peg you for someone who holds back."

Your breath hitched at the sharp edge to his words, his usual intelligence now infused with a sensuality that made your knees feel weak. You pressed your lips more firmly against him, the friction of the fabric between you and his skin making your core throb with desire.

Without a word, you let your hands move to his thighs, your fingers sinking into the fabric of his trousers. The texture was smooth, fine, yet beneath it, the hard muscle of his legs tensed under your touch. You couldn’t help but bite your lip, the sensation of his powerful body so close making your pulse race, your thoughts scatter.

Your lips brushed lower, tracing the waistband with delicate, feather-light kisses. You could feel him shift, his grip in your hair tightening slightly, his breath coming faster, though he tried to keep it controlled. The anticipation in the air between you both was almost suffocating.

You let your teeth sink into the waistband tugging at it lightly as Alhaitham lifts his hips to help you remove the material. His hard cock gently tapped agaisnt your cheek when you had pulled the boxers down, precum streaked your rose tinted cheek. 

Your eyes widen at the site of his cock that was mere inches away from your drooling mouth. The vein around his shaft throbbed in arousal, the pearly white liquid of his precum threatened to spill as his heavy balls pulsed with the need for your attention.

"Just like that," he whispered, the approval in his voice sending a wave of heat through you. His thumb grazed the nape of your neck, gentle but insistent, a subtle reminder of who held control, even as he unraveled beneath your touch.

You couldn’t believe this was happening, couldn’t believe that the man you had admired from a distance, the professor who had always seemed so untouchable, was now leaning back in his chair with his belt undone, his hand in your hair, letting you unravel him piece by piece. His dark eyes bore into yours, full of something that made your stomach flutter and your breath catch in your throat.

"Now," he said softly, his voice a low growl that sent shivers through your entire body, "let's see if you can use that mouth for more than just smart remarks." His fingers flexed in your hair, his gaze never leaving yours as he waited, tension coiling in the air between you both, thick and electric.

Your lips part, breath catching in your throat as you first press a gentle kiss on the rosy tip of his cock, your tongue peeked out from between your lips as you gave his slit a gentle kick, Alhaitham hissed at this fingers tighten around your hair, your eyes stare up at him with innocent as he groans.

You now decide to let your mouth to wrap around the mushroom tip, your tongue swirled around it, tasting the precum.

“fuck, your mouth’s so warm, bunny.” groaning so lowly, Alhaitham leaned his head back on the leather chair. caressing the top of your hair, strands in between his long digits, heavy breathing — and quiet whimpering. 

You decide to be bolder as you let the whole length slide into your mouth and down your throat, your eyes briming with tears as his cock twitched in your mouth as you tightened your lips around his length and pulled back up, licking the beautiful rosy tip, kitty-like, right on the line of it while you looked at his teal-eyes from under his desk. 

 You carefully moved to not let any of your saliva nor his pre-and-soon-cum spill on his pants as you take him once again, the weight of him pressing heavily against your cheek. He’s thicker, heavier than you imagined—far more than any of the toys you’ve ever used—and the heat radiating off him is intoxicating. For a brief moment, uncertainty flickers through you, but when his fingers tighten in your hair, drawing your attention back to him, that hesitation melts away.

The warmth of his skin seeps into your mouth as you stretch your lips around him, taking in as much as you can. The reality of him, so solid and present, fills your senses, overwhelming in the best way. He twitches against your tongue as you move, and the way he lets out a low, satisfied sigh makes something stir deep inside you. “That’s it… just like that,” he murmurs, voice thick and breathless, his fingers flexing in your hair as he gently guides your movements.

You can feel the tension in his thighs as you press your nails into them, steadying yourself, but also earning a sharp intake of breath from him. The sensation of your teeth lightly grazing him causes him to tense, his hips jerking slightly in response. You try to take him deeper, but there’s no way to fit all of him—he’s too much and he didn't want you to use your hands on his cock— just your mouth, you work him slowly, savoring every reaction he gives you, every rough inhale as his hips move in rhythm with your mouth.

His voice is a low rumble above you, his words like velvet. “You’re even better than I imagined…” he mutters, his gaze fixed on you, dark and intense. His eyes drink in every detail—your lips stretched around his cock, the soft flush spreading across your cheeks. “All those nights watching… and now I have you here, real, and mine.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, heat pooling in your stomach as you moan softly against him, the vibration pulling another low groan from his chest. His reaction is instant—his hips pressing forward as he sinks deeper into your mouth, his fingers tightening their hold. You can feel him twitching against your tongue, responding to every little movement, every swirl of your lips.

Then, without warning, you feel something press firmly against the apex of your thighs—on your clothed cunt. The tip of his shoe, pressing into you through your clothes, the pressure sudden and overwhelming. Your eyes widen, a gasp caught in your throat as pleasure jolts through you. The heat between your legs intensifies, and you instinctively grind against the pressure, trying to relieve the ache building inside you. It’s too much, too soon, and your mind spins from the intensity of it all.

His voice drips with control, low and commanding as his hips begin to move faster. “You like that, don’t you? The thrill of being caught… the thrill of being under me.” He’s watching you closely, every flicker of your eyes, every twitch of your body, his own arousal spiking at the sight of you on your knees, lips wrapped around him. 

Suddenly, his cock is deeply down your throat as you gag repeatedly. his fingers wrapped around your hair, holding it still while thrusting his hips up and beneath him, the ultimate choking mess, gasping for air, mumbling all sorts of pleading languidly — on the verge of tears and apparent faintness from the feeling of Alhaitham in your throat and the stimulation on your cunt.

 "keep still and let me cum in your mouth pretty mouth, my sweet bunny." Alhaitham grunted, his eyes taking in the site of you. 

Sweat beading up up along your forehead, your mouth shoved with his cock, your eyes blurring with tears, shirt hanging on your body exposing your bra, your fingers digging into his thighs and the site of you rutting your cunt against the sole of his shoe is what tips Alhaitham to the edge. 

His release is sudden, hot and thick, spilling into your mouth. You struggle to swallow it all, the salty taste flooding your senses, but you do your best, even as it becomes difficult to breathe. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, your lips still wrapped around him as his hips stutter to a stop, his chest heaving above you. His cock still in your mouth as it slowly softens but not completely. Your tongue desperately lapping up at his tip and he hisses from the overstimulation.

Alhaitham looked down to stare at your disheveled self, reddish swollen lips, doe eyes, watery eyelashes and finally letting you breath, patting your head. a string of saliva — and semen — connecting your lips to his tip, as you still rutted agaisnt his shoe, your arousal evident as it slowly leaked from beneath your skirt and glistened alongside your thigh. 

When he finally pulls away, your mouth feels empty, your lips swollen and wet. You’re dazed, your heart still racing from the intensity of it all. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip, tracing the wetness there, his gaze dark and heavy as he takes in the sight of you—your face flushed, your chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath.

“You did well,” he murmurs, his voice soft but full of satisfaction. The praise going straight to your cunt. 

 A small smirk plays at the corner of his mouth. “Better than I could have imagined. I’ve waited for this… and it was worth every second.”

As you catch your breath, his thumb lingers against your lip, pressing down gently as if to remind you of what just happened. You’re still trembling slightly, your legs weak beneath you, your body still buzzing with a mix of lingering pleasure and adrenaline. His gaze doesn’t leave yours, and when his hand falls from your lips, it moves to your hair, fingers threading through it, pulling you just a bit closer.

His leg, still pressed firmly against your sensitive core, shifts, sending another wave of heat rushing through you. But before you can fully register it, his hands slide down to your waist, gripping you tightly and pulling you up from your knees. Your body moves as if on instinct, and suddenly, you're on his lap, straddling him, your thighs bracketing his hips as he settles you against him as you felt his cock agaisnt your clothed pussy. 

The world around you feels like it’s spinning—his hands are warm and strong as they hold you, his touch both commanding and careful, guiding your every movement. Your breath hitches as you feel the firmness of his chest against yours, his shirt slightly rumpled from how hurried everything had been. His belt is still undone, pants half-open, and the closeness of your bodies ignites something deeper within you. The friction of his cock brushing against your clothed mound as he adjusts you sends sparks up your spine, causing you to let out a soft, involuntary gasp.

His hands splay across your lower back, holding you flush against him, and the warmth of his body sears through the thin layers of fabric between you. His gaze never leaves yours—those sharp, intelligent eyes darkened by desire, searching your face, watching your every reaction. His lips quirk slightly, the hint of a smirk on his face, but there’s something else in his expression now—something raw, almost hungry.

You can feel his breath on your lips, warm and teasing, as he leans in closer, his fingers trailing up your spine, settling just between your shoulder blades. His mouth hovers near yours, but he doesn’t kiss you—not yet. He’s waiting, drawing out the moment, letting the tension coil tighter between you. Your heart pounds in your chest, every beat echoing in your ears as the heat between your legs grows, your body responding to his closeness, his touch.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. His eyes flick down to your slightly parted lips, swollen from the earlier kiss, then back up to meet yours. “I knew you’d feel like this… but having you here, in my lap, like this… it’s better than anything I could have imagined.”

His words send a rush of warmth through your body, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You’re acutely aware of the way his leg presses against you, the friction building with every slight shift of your hips. His hands, firm and confident, guide your movements as he leans back in his chair, settling you more comfortably against him. The pressure between your legs is almost unbearable now, and the way his body responds to yours—his growing arousal pressed against you—only heightens the sensation.

As your hips move slightly, the friction intensifies, and a soft moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. His gaze sharpens, his fingers tightening their grip on your waist as his cock presses up against you, sending another pulse of heat through your core. His smirk grows, eyes gleaming with that knowing look as his fingers trace slow, deliberate patterns along your back.

“You like that?” His voice is a soft tease, laced with amusement, but also something deeper, more commanding. “The way I touch you… the way your body reacts.” His lips brush against your ear, the heat of his breath sending chills across your skin. “You’ve wanted this for a while, haven’t you? To be here, with me.”

His words stir something within you, a mix of excitement and vulnerability. Your body answers before your mind does—your hips rolling instinctively against him, chasing that friction, that warmth. His hands guide you, controlling the pace, slow but deliberate, teasing you, making you want more.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a near whisper. His eyes flick down to your lips once more before he closes the distance, finally pressing his mouth to yours in a kiss that’s slow and deep. The kiss feels different this time—more deliberate, more consuming. His lips move against yours with a steady, confident rhythm, and you melt into him, letting the kiss drown out everything else.

The room around you seems to fade away—there’s only him, the heat of his body, the way his lips claim yours, and the delicious pressure of his cock gainst your most sensitive spot. Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of him, the scent of him, the sound of his breath mingling with yours.

When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes gently across your bottom lip, swollen and slick from the kiss. 

 The silence in the room was thick, a comfortable intimacy hanging in the air between you, making every heartbeat feel amplified. 

As you looked into his captivating light turquoise eyes, you didn't think before you let the words slip past your lips.

“Would you like to watch me stream in person?” 

INGHHH I HAVE AN ASSIGNMENT DUE AT 23:59 (about 9 hours time) AND I GOY INSPO FOR BLURRED LINES LIKE JSKSKAKQKQK

OFC IM GOING TO ADD A JEALOUSY ARC

I WANT TO DIE I HATE GETTING CREATIVE IDEAS WHEN I HAVE TO DO ACTUAL WORK UGH

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE 𝐓𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓!! PART 2 IS GOING TO BE AMAZING

Thank uuu😭💓

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐓

—zhongli x reader : sunset berry tea (fluff)

— alhaitham x fem! reader: blurred lines (professor x camgirl! student) NSFW

—alhaitham x reader: yum-yum (fluff)

alhaitham x reader :between dreams and promises (angst and fluff)

𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐊𝐀𝐈 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋

— jing yuan x fem reader : let me call you mine, just for tonight [REQUEST] (emperor x assassin) NSFW

© 𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗂-𝖻𝗎𝗇 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦. 𝖣𝖮 𝖭𝖮𝖳 , 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 , 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄 𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝗌, 𝗆𝗈𝖽𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝖾𝗍𝖼 , 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

This is me Aya.. ‏🇵🇸

Imagine you wake up with nothing left.That's exactly what happened with us .we moved from having everything to having nothing.In a blink of an eye ,we lost everything, our house ,dreams, memories belongings and our works. We are starting from zero and need your help to climb the leader step by step from scratch.

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.

This tweet totally describes me

♡...in which alhaitham is your childhood friend.

♡...warnings : fluff and slight angst.

♡...note: i wrote this half asleep but i really wanted to write this idea <3

word count: 6.7k

The classroom was stifling, filled with the low hum of students reciting their lessons, but Alhaitham sat in the back, his head resting on his hand, eyes half-lidded in boredom. The teacher had given up on him for the day, again. He’d finished the exercises in a fraction of the time it took everyone else, leaving the teacher visibly frustrated. "Alhaitham," she had sighed, exasperated. "If you’re not going to participate at the same pace as the class, you can go sit outside."

So there he was—sitting on the bench outside the classroom, staring at the dust swirling in the hot afternoon air. He didn’t understand why his abilities seemed to be such a burden. His grandmother always told him that being different was a gift, but it didn’t feel that way when his intelligence only isolated him from everyone else.

He wondered if being "gifted" was just another way of saying you didn’t belong.

Just as he was sinking further into his thoughts, the door of the neighboring classroom burst open with a sharp clang. You stomped out, your brows furrowed in frustration, clutching a worn sketchbook in your hands. The teacher had kicked you out for the third time that week, irritated by your constant drawing during lessons. You hadn’t even been trying to hide it.

You glanced around, noticing the boy sitting alone on the bench, and without hesitation, made your way over and plopped down beside him, the wooden seat creaking slightly under your weight. For a moment, you just stared ahead, still fuming from the unfairness of it all.

After a moment, you turned to look at him. “Why did you get kicked out?”

Alhaitham blinked, a bit startled by your directness. He hadn’t expected you to speak to him, let alone with that bluntness. “I… finished the work too fast,” he said simply, unsure if that was a reason worth mentioning.

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Really? They kicked you out for being smart?”

He shrugged. “They said I wasn’t participating properly.”

“That’s stupid,” you muttered, crossing your arms. “I got kicked out for drawing again.” You lifted your sketchbook slightly, showing him the half-finished sketch of a bird you’d been working on when the teacher had confiscated it. “Apparently, art doesn’t count as learning.”

Alhaitham looked at the sketch, noting how detailed it was for someone your age. “It’s good.”

You gave him a sideways glance, surprised. Most of the other kids didn’t understand your drawing, let alone compliment it. You raised an eyebrow at him. “Thanks, I guess. Still doesn’t stop them from kicking me out.”

For a while, neither of you spoke. You both sat there, two kids thrown out of their classrooms because being "different" was seen as wrong. You could feel the unfairness of it sitting heavy in the air between you—your art, his intelligence. It was as if neither of you fit the mold they wanted you to.

After a while, the sound of the school bell signaled the end of the day. Children began pouring out of the classrooms, their excited voices filling the courtyard as they were met by their parents. You stood up, stretching your legs, but as you glanced toward the gate, you noticed Alhaitham was still sitting there, waiting for someone.

A group of boys stood nearby, whispering to each other and shooting glances his way. You watched as one of them called out, "Where’s your mum, genius? Oh wait, you don’t have one, right? Just your grandma."

Alhaitham’s face remained expressionless, though you could see the slight tension in his shoulders. He didn’t react. He never did. But the words still stung.

Before you could think, you reached into your bag and grabbed the first thing your hand touched—a small peach from lunch. Without hesitating, you hurled it at the group. The peach hit one of the boys square in the back, and he whirled around, startled.

"Who—?!" He stopped short when he saw you standing there, glaring at him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but thought better of it and quickly walked away with the rest of his group, muttering under his breath.

You turned back to Alhaitham, who was now staring at you, wide-eyed. “Why did you do that?”

“Why not?” you replied with a shrug. “They were being jerks.”

He blinked, as if trying to make sense of what had just happened. He was used to dealing with things on his own—being the “genius,” the one “born different” like his parents, had always meant walking his own path. The idea that someone else would stand up for him… was new.

“I’ll walk with you,” you said, offering your hand. “My dad’s busy, so I usually walk home alone anyway.”

Hesitantly, Alhaitham reached out and took your hand. The warmth of your fingers wrapping around his felt strange but comforting. He couldn’t quite place the feeling—it wasn’t something he was used to. Yet as you started walking together, a small part of him began to feel like maybe, just maybe, being different wasn’t so bad after all.

The walk to Alhaitham’s house was quiet, the sun casting long shadows across the dusty streets of Sumeru City. You kept your hand in his, feeling the slight stiffness in his grip as if he didn’t quite know how to hold it, but you didn’t mind. It was strange, but in a nice way, walking with someone who didn’t rush to fill the silence with useless chatter.

As you neared his house, you saw it was nestled between a few others, slightly older but well-kept. The door was painted a deep green, vines climbing up the side of the building, the vibrant leaves glowing under the afternoon light. You stopped just short of the steps leading up to the front door.

“This is your place?” you asked, glancing up at the house.

Alhaitham nodded. “Yes. My grandmother lives here.”

Before either of you could say more, the door creaked open, and an older woman stepped out. She was small and frail-looking, but her eyes were sharp and bright, filled with a wisdom that seemed to stretch back through the ages. Her grey hair was pinned up neatly, and she wore simple, well-tailored clothes, the kind you’d imagine a scholar might wear. You noticed the subtle ink stains on her sleeves—she clearly spent her time among books.

“There you are, Alhaitham,” she said with a warm smile, her voice soft but firm. Then, her gaze flickered over to you, and her smile grew wider. “And who is this?”

You hesitated for a moment, suddenly feeling a little out of place, but you met her gaze. “I… I’m a friend. I walked him home.”

Alhaitham’s grandmother studied you for a moment, her sharp eyes assessing but not unkind. She nodded approvingly. “Thank you for looking after him.” Then she turned back to Alhaitham. “You should introduce your friend properly, Alhaitham.”

Alhaitham blinked, as if the concept of introductions had momentarily escaped him. “This is… um…”

“Y/N,” you filled in, smiling a little at his awkwardness.

“Y/N,” he repeated, glancing at you for a second before turning back to his grandmother.

His grandmother nodded thoughtfully. “Ah, Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Any friend of Alhaitham’s is welcome here.”

The word "friend" hung in the air for a moment, and you could see the faintest flicker of surprise cross Alhaitham’s face. Perhaps the idea of having a friend was still something new for him. You remembered the way the other kids treated him—the way they treated both of you, really. Being different in Sumeru wasn’t something to be celebrated, not when it came to talents that set you apart from the ordinary.

“I didn’t do much,” you said modestly, shrugging. “Just made sure no one bothered him.”

Alhaitham’s grandmother smiled knowingly. “That’s more than enough.”

For a brief moment, you felt a warmth from her that reminded you of your own dad, who, despite being so busy, cared deeply for you. It was strange to think that the boy who seemed so alone at school had this calm, intelligent woman guiding him through life. You wondered what it was like to grow up in a family of scholars, with everyone expecting greatness from you before you even had a chance to discover it for yourself.

“Would you like to stay for some tea, Y/N?” his grandmother offered kindly.

Before you could answer, Alhaitham spoke up. “She should probably get home. Her dad is busy, and she usually walks alone.”

You looked at him, a little surprised that he remembered. But his grandmother’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she nodded. “Of course. Another time, perhaps. You’re welcome anytime.”

You smiled, appreciating the gesture, but you did have to get back. “Thanks, maybe another day.”

As you turned to leave, Alhaitham’s grandmother’s voice followed you. “Remember, Y/N. Being different is a gift. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.”

You glanced back at her, those words lingering in the air. They seemed to hold more weight coming from someone who clearly understood what it meant to stand apart from the world’s expectations. You gave a small nod before heading back down the street, your heart feeling a little lighter than it had before.

Alhaitham stood by the door with his grandmother, watching you disappear into the distance. He didn’t understand this feeling yet, the warmth that seemed to fill his chest whenever you were near. But as he closed the door behind him, something told him that you, too, understood what it was like to be set apart, and maybe—just maybe—that made all the difference.

As the years passed, you and Alhaitham became inseparable, though your bond grew in a way that remained largely unspoken. You had both found comfort in each other's presence—two children who had been marked as "different," yet somehow understood that being different wasn’t a burden but a quiet kind of strength.

Your days were often spent together, even when words weren’t necessary. You’d sit under the same large tree after school, you with your sketchbook and he with a book in hand, both of you immersed in your worlds but connected by the mere fact that you didn’t need to explain yourselves to each other. Alhaitham would read with a quiet intensity, his mind clearly miles ahead of his peers, while you sketched your surroundings—people, birds, the intricate patterns of the leaves dancing in the wind.

Despite his aloof nature, Alhaitham slowly began to appreciate your presence. You weren’t like the others, the ones who either sought to belittle him or use him for his intellect. You never asked him to explain the things he knew, never prodded him with questions about why he was so smart, why he didn’t fit in. You simply let him be.

Sometimes, in rare moments, he would glance up from his book to watch you sketch. You never noticed, or if you did, you never said anything. You’d often mutter to yourself as you drew, deep in concentration, criticizing a line here or pondering aloud whether to add more shading there. And though Alhaitham never admitted it, he found your artistic process fascinating in its own right. You had a way of seeing the world in shapes, light, and shadow, the same way he saw it in logic and reason.

By the time you were both teenagers, your friendship had solidified into something unshakable, though neither of you had ever put a label on it. You had both grown—Alhaitham into the quiet, intellectual type that the Akademiya would undoubtedly be drawn to, and you into a more expressive, artistic soul whose talent had only grown more refined. Though your interests differed, your paths always seemed to align.

It was during your early teenage years that Alhaitham began to take his studies more seriously. His grandmother, always supportive of his brilliance, had begun preparing him for the Akademiya. His natural intellect and analytical prowess were already far beyond what most of the instructors at the school could teach him, and the Akademiya was the logical next step.

The day he told you about his future plans, you were sitting together in your usual spot under the tree, your sketchbook open on your lap as you worked on yet another drawing of the city skyline. Alhaitham was quieter than usual, lost in thought, and it didn’t take long for you to notice.

“What’s on your mind, Haitham?” you asked, using the nickname you’d given him long ago. He only allowed you to call him that—anyone else who tried would be met with a cold stare.

He closed his book and looked at you, his gaze steady. “My grandmother wants me to enroll at the Akademiya.”

You paused mid-sketch, your pencil hovering over the page as you processed his words. You’d known this day would come eventually—he was too brilliant not to go—but the idea of him being at the Akademiya, immersed in a world of scholars and intellects, somehow felt distant and cold. A part of you worried that it would change things between you.

“You knew this would happen, right?” he continued, watching your reaction carefully. “I’ve always planned on going.”

You nodded slowly, putting your pencil down. “Yeah, I knew. It’s just… the Akademiya. It’s different. You’ll be surrounded by people who are just like you.”

He frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Smart people,” you replied with a shrug, trying to keep your voice light, though the worry lingered at the edge of your thoughts. “People who are probably going to understand you in ways I never will.”

Alhaitham was silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving yours. Then, in his usual straightforward manner, he said, “That’s not true. They might understand my knowledge, but they don’t know me.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. Alhaitham was never one to speak about emotions or anything too personal. Yet, the weight of his statement hung in the air between you, and you realized what he meant. It wasn’t just about being smart; it was about the connection the two of you shared—something that went beyond words or intellect.

You smiled softly, feeling a little foolish for doubting. “I guess you’re right.”

He looked at you for a long moment before turning his attention back to his book. “Besides, the Akademiya is just another place to learn. It doesn’t change anything.”

And, in typical Alhaitham fashion, that was the end of that conversation.

The day he was officially accepted into the Akademiya was a quiet one. There were no grand celebrations, no overly emotional goodbyes. His grandmother congratulated him with her usual calm pride, and you… you simply met him under the tree like always.

But something was different. You both knew it, even if neither of you said it out loud.

You handed him a sketch that day, one you’d been working on for a while in secret. It was a detailed drawing of the two of you sitting under the tree, books and sketchpads scattered around, just like the countless afternoons you’d spent together. It was your way of capturing the moment, freezing it in time before things inevitably changed.

Alhaitham took the sketch, his fingers brushing the edge of the paper as he studied it. “You drew this?”

You nodded, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “Yeah. I figured you should have something to remind you of home.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, but then he folded the sketch carefully and slipped it into the front cover of his book—a quiet but significant gesture.

“Thanks,” he said simply, but you knew, in his own way, that he meant it.

---

The Akademiya was everything you had imagined it would be—prestigious, rigorous, and filled with students who were just as sharp and talented as Alhaitham. He fit in seamlessly, his intellect quickly earning him a place among the top scholars.

Yet, despite the demands of his studies, Alhaitham never drifted away from you. He still came back to Sumeru City often, and when he did, the two of you would slip right back into your old routine—sitting under the tree, you with your sketchbook and he with his books.

There were times when you visited him at the Akademiya, too. The towering buildings of the institution intimidated you at first, but you quickly found that, with Alhaitham by your side, you had nothing to fear. He introduced you to the library, showing you sections filled with texts that most people your age wouldn’t have even heard of, let alone understood. You watched him interact with the other students—aloof, confident, and always in control.

Despite his growing reputation as a brilliant but somewhat detached scholar, you saw the parts of him that others didn’t. The way his eyes would soften slightly when he spoke about his grandmother, the way he’d listen carefully when you talked about your latest artistic project, even if it wasn’t something he fully understood.

And though neither of you ever said it out loud, you both knew that your bond, forged in childhood and strengthened over the years, was something rare—something that no amount of Akademiya knowledge or scholarly prestige could replace.

---

The inevitable question of the future loomed over you. Alhaitham’s place at the Akademiya was secure, his path clear. You, on the other hand, weren’t quite sure where you fit into the grand scheme of things. Your art had grown more refined, your talent undeniable, but the world didn’t seem to value creativity in the same way it did intellect.

One afternoon, while sitting under the tree, you voiced your concerns aloud for the first time. “Do you ever wonder if we’re supposed to fit into certain roles?” you asked, absentmindedly sketching the edge of a leaf.

Alhaitham glanced up from his book, his brow furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?”

You sighed, leaning back against the tree trunk. “I mean… you’re destined for the Akademiya. You always have been. But me? I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.”

He was silent for a long moment, his gaze thoughtful as he considered your words. “You’re an artist. That’s where you belong.”

“But what if it’s not enough?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if the world doesn’t need art?”

Alhaitham’s gaze softened in a way that was rare for him, and he set his book aside. “The world doesn’t need most things. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t important.”

You looked at him, surprised by the quiet conviction in his words.

“I’ve seen the way you look at the world,” he continued, his voice steady. “You see things in a way that most people don’t. That’s your gift. Just because it doesn’t fit into the Akademiya’s way of thinking doesn’t mean it’s any less valuable.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, the kind of reassurance you hadn’t even known you needed.

For the first time in a long while, you didn’t feel so lost. And as you looked at Alhaitham, sitting there beside you, you realized that no matter where life took you, this bond, this friendship, would remain

As the years passed, your bond with Alhaitham deepened. He wasn’t the most expressive or emotional person, but you learned to read the subtle ways in which he showed that he cared. The moments you shared were often quiet, filled with comfortable silences as you both worked on your individual projects—Alhaitham with his studies and you with your sketches, which had become more intricate and beautiful as you grew older.

He had introduced you to books that went beyond the curriculum, texts from the Akademiya that challenged your thinking, and though you weren't academically inclined, you appreciated the way Alhaitham's mind worked. In turn, you’d share your art with him—showing him your latest sketches and projects, which ranged from detailed drawings of nature to abstract depictions of your thoughts and feelings. He didn’t always understand your creative process, but he admired your skill, especially the passion behind every line and stroke. The two of you complemented each other in ways that neither of you had ever expected.

When you weren’t drawing, you were often with him, exploring the libraries of Sumeru City, wandering through its bustling markets, or simply sitting by the riverbank, enjoying the quiet moments together. Alhaitham had never been one for grand gestures or declarations, but you’d caught the way his gaze lingered on you sometimes—soft, thoughtful, as though he was memorizing every detail of your face.

By the time you were both teenagers, it was clear to everyone around you that your relationship had evolved into something more. Even if neither of you had admitted it out loud, the unspoken connection between you grew stronger with each passing day.

That connection was precisely what was on Alhaitham’s mind as he paced outside his house, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. He had spent weeks thinking about it, planning it, and today—today was finally the day. He was going to confess his feelings to you. He had never been one for sentimentality, but after years of friendship, study sessions, and quiet moments spent together, it had become undeniable. You were important to him, in ways that transcended logic and reason.

He had rehearsed the words in his head a hundred times, though they never sounded quite right. Still, Alhaitham was determined to tell you—today.

But as he made his way to your house, hoping to catch you before your evening sketching session by the river, a feeling of unease settled in his chest. The atmosphere around your home seemed different, more tense. When he arrived, he found you outside, sitting on the front steps with your sketchbook resting on your knees, but there was something off about your expression. You weren’t drawing, just staring at the ground, as if lost in thought.

“Y/N,” he called out, and you looked up, your eyes clouded with something he couldn’t quite place.

“Hey, Alhaitham.” Your voice was soft, and he immediately knew something was wrong.

He approached slowly, sitting down beside you on the steps, waiting for you to speak. You had always been the more expressive one, able to put emotions into words while he struggled with them, so he waited.

“My dad’s leaving for Liyue,” you said quietly after a long pause.

Alhaitham’s brow furrowed. “For how long?”

“Two weeks. Business trip.” You bit your lip, your fingers tightening around the edges of your sketchbook. “I’m going with him.”

He blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected that. “You’re going with him?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, staring down at your sketchbook. “He asked me to come along. Said it’d be a good experience for me. I’m leaving today.”

Alhaitham felt a jolt of surprise. You were leaving today? He had been so focused on confessing his feelings that he hadn’t anticipated the possibility of you not being around.

The news hit him harder than he expected. He had wanted to tell you everything, wanted to finally put his feelings into words, but now… it didn’t feel like the right time. How could he confess now, only for you to leave? And what if something changed while you were away?

For the first time in his life, Alhaitham hesitated.

“Well… I suppose I can tell you when you come back,” he said quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

You turned to him, frowning. “Tell me what?”

He paused for a moment, meeting your gaze, but then shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “It’s nothing. It can wait. I’ll tell you when you return.”

You stared at him for a moment longer, as if trying to figure out what he wasn’t saying, but eventually, you nodded. “Alright… I’ll hold you to that.”

There was a strange weight between you now, something unsaid that lingered in the air. You both stood up, and for a brief moment, you hesitated before stepping closer to him. You weren’t the kind to hug often, but in that moment, it felt right. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tightly.

“I’ll miss you,” you said quietly, your voice muffled against his chest.

Alhaitham froze for a second, caught off guard by the hug, but then his arms slowly came around you, holding you in return. The warmth of your embrace filled the emptiness he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying.

“I’ll miss you too,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

When you pulled away, you gave him a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. You grabbed your bag from the steps and slung it over your shoulder, then turned toward the path that led to the main road, where your father was waiting with the carriage.

“I’ll see you in two weeks, Alhaitham,” you called out, waving as you started walking away.

He stood there, watching you go, the words he hadn’t said still lodged in his throat. He would wait until you came back, he told himself. He could wait. Two weeks wasn’t so long. You’d return, and then he’d tell you everything.

But as he watched you disappear down the road, a strange feeling gnawed at the back of his mind—a nagging sense that something wasn’t quite right. What he didn’t know, what neither of you knew, was that your trip to Liyue would be far longer than either of you had anticipated.

When you left Sumeru all those years ago, Alhaitham didn’t think much of the two-week trip. He expected you to return soon, and he had held onto the hope of confessing his feelings as soon as you were back. But when days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, the reality of your absence began to weigh on him.

You’d left your art behind, your sketchbook sitting on the desk where you used to draw, pages half-filled with ideas and fragments of your mind. Alhaitham found himself flipping through it occasionally, his fingers brushing over the pages. He was never one to dwell on emotions or let them consume him, but the emptiness left by your sudden departure was hard to ignore. He missed the way you’d ramble about your latest ideas, missed watching you sketch with that focused look in your eyes.

At first, he buried himself in his studies. He was, after all, a logical person—someone who sought knowledge above all else. He excelled in every subject, his intellect sharp and precise, gaining recognition at the Akademiya for his dedication and brilliance. By the time he was twenty Alhaitham was already on the path to becoming one of the most esteemed scholars in Sumeru. He should’ve felt fulfilled by his success—his life was progressing exactly as he had planned.

But there was always that lingering emptiness. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something important was missing.

Even as the years passed, the absence of your presence in his life was a constant. He heard little of your whereabouts, and whenever he saw your old sketchbook on the shelf, he was reminded of the quiet moments you used to share. He often wondered what had happened to you. Why had you stayed away so long? What had kept you from coming back?

Ten years later, at twenty-seven, Alhaitham had become a well-respected scribe. He had moved out of his childhood home and had his own home whom he shared with Kaveh, who was—unfortunately for Alhaitham—an incredibly vocal and emotional roommate. They often found themselves at the local café, Kaveh talking about the latest architectural projects or complaining about his own work, while Alhaitham kept his nose buried in a book, barely paying attention to Kaveh’s ramblings.

Alhaitham’s mind barely registered Kaveh’s endless chatter as he focused on his book. He wasn’t one to let distractions pull him away, but the familiar sound of the Traveler’s voice reached his ears. His brows furrowed in mild curiosity, and his gaze flickered toward the café’s entrance.

The Traveler stood there, Paimon floating beside them, talking animatedly. But his eyes weren’t drawn to them. Instead, they were pulled to the figure standing beside the Traveler—a woman dressed in elegant Liyuean attire, her silhouette framed by the café's warm light. At first, he didn’t recognize her, his mind struggling to place the image with his memories.

But then, like a flash of clarity, it hit him.

It was you.

Alhaitham froze, his heart skipping a beat as he stared at you. You had changed so much over the years, your teenage softness replaced by the refined elegance of a grown woman. Your Liyuean clothes—a long, flowing dress in shades of deep red and gold with intricate patterns—hugged your form with a grace that seemed to suit you perfectly. A simple but delicate hairpin glinted in your hair, securing it neatly behind your head. The outfit made you look almost regal, exuding the kind of maturity that hadn’t been there the last time he’d seen you.

You turned slightly, laughing at something the Traveler said, and in that moment, your eyes met his.

For a second, time seemed to stop. The café’s noise, Kaveh’s voice, everything faded into the background as your gaze locked onto his. Your smile faltered, and the laughter that had just been on your lips disappeared as your eyes widened in shock.

You hadn’t expected to see him. Not here, not so soon. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room as you tried to process the reality of seeing Alhaitham again after all these years.

For a moment, you were the teenager you had been, standing in front of him all over again. Memories of Sumeru, of your days spent sketching beside him, of the time you had shared, all came rushing back with a force that left you breathless. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed him—until now.

He had changed, too. The boy you once knew had grown into a man. He was taller, broader, his physique more defined, and there was an air of quiet strength about him that hadn’t been there before. His grey-green eyes, always sharp and thoughtful, were now piercing as they looked at you, a mix of shock and disbelief swimming in them.

Paimon was the first to break the silence, her eyes lighting up in recognition. “Oh, Alhaitham!” she called, waving at him enthusiastically. “It’s you!”

The Traveler followed Paimon’s lead, giving a small wave. “Alhaitham, it’s been a while.”

But you were still frozen, your lips parting as if to say something, but no words came out. Slowly, you made your way over to his table, your legs moving almost on autopilot. The closer you got, the more real it felt, and the butterflies in your stomach twisted into a knot.

You stopped just in front of him, staring at him for a long moment before a smile—a hesitant, almost disbelieving smile—began to form on your lips.

“Alhaitham…” you said, your voice soft, as if testing the name. “I can’t believe it’s really you.”

He blinked, still processing your presence, before his features shifted into something unreadable. “You’re back,” he finally said, his tone calm, though there was a slight tension in his voice.

“I’m back,” you confirmed, though the words felt heavy, as if there was so much more behind them. Your gaze swept over him again, taking in the changes, before you let out a soft chuckle. “You’ve… gotten bigger. Stronger. I guess you could protect me now, huh?”

The teasing tone in your voice brought a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe. But it was fleeting.

“I suppose so,” he replied, though his eyes never left yours, searching for something. The quiet between you felt charged, as if the years apart had left too many things unspoken.

You shifted slightly, trying to ground yourself in the moment, your hand brushing the fabric of your Liyuean dress. “I never thought I’d see you again, at least not so soon.”

“Neither did I,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “What happened? Why didn’t you come back?”

Your smile faltered, the weight of your answer settling over you. You let out a small sigh, lowering your gaze for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “It’s… a long story,” you said softly. “My dad got stuck in Liyue. He… ran into some debt, and things got complicated. We ended up staying there much longer than we expected.”

Alhaitham’s brows knitted together in concern, but he remained silent, waiting for you to continue.

“I had to help him,” you went on, your voice a little steadier now. “It wasn’t easy. I had to put everything on hold. And before I knew it, years had passed. I ended up studying law in Liyue to help him deal with everything.”

He blinked, surprised. “You’re a lawyer?”

You nodded, though there was a sadness in your eyes that he didn’t miss. “Yeah, I am. It wasn’t what I had planned, but… it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”

Alhaitham was silent for a moment, processing this new information. You, the girl who had once poured her soul into art, had become a lawyer. It was hard to reconcile the image of you sitting beside him, sketching, with the idea of you in a courtroom or an office, dealing with the complexities of law.

“What about your art?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

You smiled, but it was tinged with that same sadness. “I still draw… but not as much. Sometimes, when you grow up, life pulls you in directions you never expected. And before you know it, the things you love… they become hobbies rather than careers.”

Alhaitham’s heart ached at your words, though he didn’t show it. He had always admired your passion for art, the way you poured yourself into every sketch, every line. To hear that you had let go of that dream, even partially, left him with a sense of loss he hadn’t anticipated.

But before he could say anything, you smiled at him, brighter this time, as if trying to lighten the mood. “But enough about that. It’s good to see you again, Alhaitham. You really have grown into someone… incredible.”

He didn’t reply right away, his eyes still lingering on you, on the woman you had become. Ten years had passed, but the connection between you felt as strong as ever, even if it had been buried under time and distance.

And as he sat there, staring at you, Alhaitham realized something that made his heart clench. You had returned, yes—but the years had changed you both in ways neither of you could have predicted.

The moment stretched between you, filled with the weight of ten years of absence. Alhaitham’s usual calm, controlled demeanor was chipped away, revealing something raw beneath the surface. He had prepared himself for this reunion countless times in his mind, but the reality of seeing you again left him unsettled.

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back,” he finally said, his voice low and steady, though his eyes betrayed the emotion he tried to suppress. “Not after so long.”

You felt the heaviness in his words and it tugged at your heart. The boy you once knew, the one who had always been so composed, was struggling to contain the hurt he had buried deep inside. And it was all because of you—because you had left without ever explaining why. The guilt weighed heavily on you now, knowing that he had been waiting, never knowing when or if you’d return.

“I didn’t plan to stay away,” you admitted softly. “Everything just… spiraled out of control. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, ten years had passed. I wanted to come back sooner, but I couldn’t.”

Alhaitham leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed as if to shield himself from the feelings he didn’t want to confront. “I get it. Life happens.”

The casual response stung more than you expected. You could sense the disappointment in his words, the unspoken frustration. He was holding back, as he always did, unwilling to let his emotions show fully. But you could feel them, just beneath the surface.

“Alhaitham, I’m sorry,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

His gaze softened for a moment, but then his usual calm expression returned. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking away as if gathering his thoughts. “I waited,” he admitted quietly, his words almost too soft to hear. “I was going to tell you how I felt before you left, but I thought I’d wait until you came back.”

You froze, the breath catching in your throat. He had wanted to tell you… back then? Before you left?

“Tell me?” you echoed, unsure if you had heard him correctly.

His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the vulnerability he had kept hidden all these years. “How I felt about you,” he said, more firmly this time. “I was going to tell you that I liked you… more than just a friend.”

Your heart clenched. In all those years, you had never known that he had felt the same way. You had thought about him often, wondered what could have been, but you never allowed yourself to dwell on it too long. It was easier to believe that the past was just that—the past.

“I… I didn’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I had no idea.”

He shrugged, trying to play it off, but there was a sadness in his eyes that couldn’t be ignored. “It doesn’t matter now, does it? Ten years have passed.”

“But it does matter,” you replied quickly, your emotions bubbling to the surface. “I cared about you, too. I thought about you every day after I left. I always wondered what could’ve been if I hadn’t gone.”

The admission hung in the air between you, both of you silently processing what the other had said. The café seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of you, confronting the feelings you had both buried for so long.

“You never said anything,” Alhaitham muttered, his eyes dropping to the table. “I thought you were happy in Liyue, that you had moved on.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to blur your vision. “I never moved on, Alhaitham. I just… I had no choice. I had to help my dad. It wasn’t about moving on or forgetting you. It was about surviving.”

His gaze lifted to meet yours again, searching your face for the truth in your words. And he found it—the pain, the longing, the regret. It was all there, as raw and real as his own.

Silence settled over you once more, but it was different now. It wasn’t the awkward, tension-filled silence from before. It was something deeper, something filled with the weight of all the things left unsaid over the years.

Finally, Alhaitham spoke, his voice gentler than before. “So… what now? You’re here, after all this time. What happens next?”

You smiled, though it was a little sad. “I don’t know. I’m still figuring things out. My dad’s debt is taken care of now, but life… it’s complicated. I came back to Sumeru because it felt like the right thing to do, but I don’t know what the future holds.”

He nodded slowly, understanding. “And the art?”

You chuckled softly, though there was a touch of bitterness in it. “I wish I could say I’ve been painting every day, but the truth is… I haven’t. Life got in the way. Being a lawyer takes up most of my time.”

“I see,” he said, but there was a sadness in his eyes, as though he mourned the lost artist in you.

You reached across the table, your fingers brushing his hand gently. “But I haven’t given up on it. Not completely. It’s still a part of me. Maybe… maybe I’ll find my way back to it one day.”

He looked down at where your hand rested on his, a small flicker of hope lighting in his eyes. “You should,” he said softly. “It was always something that made you… you.”

You smiled at that, a genuine smile this time. “Maybe I will.”

For a moment, you just sat there, hands touching, the weight of the past finally beginning to lift. There was still so much to talk about, so much to work through, but in that moment, it didn’t feel impossible. You had found each other again, after all the years and the distance. That was something.

And maybe, just maybe, it was the start of something new.

The silence between you and Alhaitham felt different now—lighter, yet still heavy with unspoken emotions. The café bustled around you, but it was as though the two of you were in your own bubble, suspended in time. Your hand remained on his, and for the first time in years, you felt a sense of calm.

Kaveh, who had been quietly observing from across the table, cleared his throat loudly, pulling both you and Alhaitham out of the moment. “So… not to interrupt or anything, but I’m dying to know—what’s the plan now?” His tone was teasing, but there was a genuine curiosity in his eyes.

You pulled your hand back slowly, suddenly aware of how much time had passed. "I don't really have a plan," you admitted with a small shrug. "I’m still trying to figure things out."

Alhaitham's gaze remained fixed on you, studying your face like a puzzle he was trying to solve. "You don’t have to decide everything now," he said quietly. "You’ve just come back."

His voice was calm, but there was something in his tone—a quiet plea, almost—as if he wanted to hold on to the moment a little longer, to not let you slip away again.

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. “I suppose I don’t.”

Kaveh leaned forward, a mischievous grin on his face. “Well, while you figure out your life plan, why not start by catching up over dinner? It’s been ten years, and I’m sure Alhaitham has plenty to tell you.”

Alhaitham shot him a look, but you couldn’t help but smile at Kaveh’s suggestion. “That sounds nice,” you said, glancing at Alhaitham. “Dinner. It’ll give us time to… catch up.”

Alhaitham’s lips quirked into a small smile, one of those rare ones that always caught you off guard. “I’d like that.”

The moment felt delicate, as though you were both trying to navigate the shifting ground beneath you, but for the first time in years, you felt like you were on solid footing with him. The years of separation and uncertainty hadn’t erased what you once had; if anything, they had made it more precious.

Kaveh stood up suddenly, clapping his hands together. “Alright then! Dinner it is! I’ll leave you two to… sort out the details.” He winked at you before turning to Alhaitham. “Don’t screw this up, genius.”

Alhaitham gave him a deadpan look as Kaveh sauntered out of the café, leaving the two of you alone again.

You turned back to Alhaitham, feeling a nervous flutter in your stomach. “So… dinner?”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. “Dinner,” he confirmed. “But I’d like to take a walk first. It’s been so long, and I’d like to hear more about what you’ve been up to.”

You smiled softly, nodding. “I’d like that too.”

As the two of you left the café, stepping out into the cool evening air, you felt a sense of nostalgia wash over you. The streets of Sumeru were different now, yet familiar. You glanced at Alhaitham, who walked beside you, his expression thoughtful as he took in the city. You wondered if he was thinking about the past too—about the two teenagers who once roamed these same streets together.

“I never expected to see you so soon,” you admitted as you walked, your voice breaking the comfortable silence. “I thought… well, I didn’t think it would happen like this.”

Alhaitham glanced at you, his gaze softening. “Neither did I. But I’m glad it did.”

You looked away for a moment, collecting your thoughts. "When I left, I wasn’t sure when—or if—I’d be back. I thought about Sumeru a lot… about you. But life had other plans."

“I understand,” he said quietly. “Things change. People change.”

You nodded. “Yeah… but it’s strange. Coming back now, it feels like so much has changed, but at the same time… it feels like nothing has.”

Alhaitham slowed his pace, turning to face you fully. “You’ve changed,” he said, his voice steady but filled with something deeper. “You’ve grown, and I can see it in everything about you. But you’re still… you.”

You felt a lump rise in your throat at his words. There was a warmth in the way he looked at you, as though he saw through all the years and the distance, straight to the person you had always been.

“And you’re still you,” you replied, smiling through the emotions threatening to spill over. “Still calm, still steady. Still…” You hesitated, searching for the right word. “Still Alhaitham.”

He smiled—a real one this time, small but genuine. “Still Alhaitham,” he echoed.

The two of you continued walking in silence for a while, the weight of everything left unsaid hanging between you. You knew there was more to talk about, more to reveal, but for now, just being together again was enough.

Eventually, you reached the edge of the city, where the streets gave way to open fields bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Alhaitham stopped, turning to you with a question in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked softly, the vulnerability back in his voice. “When you left… why didn’t you tell me what was going on?”

You bit your lip, the memories rushing back. “I didn’t want to burden you,” you admitted. “Everything with my dad… it was so sudden. And I knew that if I told you, it would only make it harder to leave.”

He looked at you, his gaze intense. “You could’ve trusted me.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I should’ve. But I was scared. I didn’t want to pull you into my mess.”

Alhaitham’s expression softened, and he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “You were never a burden,” he said quietly. “And you never will be.”

You felt your heart swell at his words, the guilt and regret that had weighed on you for years slowly starting to lift. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “For everything.”

He shook his head, his thumb brushing your arm in a comforting gesture. “There’s nothing to apologize for. You did what you had to do.”

For a moment, you just stood there, the two of you bathed in the fading light, the weight of the past slowly being replaced by the promise of something new.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice filled with hope. “So… where do we go from here?”

Alhaitham smiled, that rare, beautiful smile that you had missed so much. “Wherever you want,” he said softly. “We’ve got time.”

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in shades of orange and pink, an electric tension settled between you and Alhaitham. The fading warmth of the day mirrored the warmth building in your chest, a heat that seemed to grow with every second you spent standing there, inches apart. His hand, still resting lightly on your arm, was the only point of contact, but it felt like so much more.

You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something deep and intense that you hadn’t seen before. The weight of the years apart, the missed chances, the unspoken words—it all hung in the air between you, begging to be resolved.

Your lips parted as you tried to speak, but no words came. Instead, the pull between you grew stronger, undeniable. Alhaitham’s eyes flicked down to your lips for just a second, and your heart skipped a beat. The soft breeze carried the scent of the fields around you, but all you could focus on was him—the way his hand lingered on your arm, the warmth radiating from his body, and the tension in the air thick enough to cut through.

Neither of you moved at first, as if both of you were afraid that taking that final step might break the fragile moment. But then, without thinking, you closed the distance between you. It was subtle at first—a shift of your body, a tilt of your head. And then his hand slid up your arm, gently cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing lightly against your cheek.

Your heart pounded in your chest as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. Time seemed to slow, and every nerve in your body was focused on this moment, on him. You weren’t sure who moved first, but suddenly his lips were on yours, soft yet firm, hesitant yet sure.

The kiss was slow, almost tentative, as if testing the waters after so much time apart. But the moment his lips touched yours, everything seemed to fall into place. It felt like coming home after years of wandering, like everything that had been missing for so long was suddenly found.

You responded without hesitation, your hand coming up to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. His other hand found its way to the small of your back, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss. It was gentle, but there was an underlying urgency—an unspoken promise that neither of you wanted to waste any more time.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, foreheads resting against each other as you caught your breath. His thumb still caressed your cheek, and you felt like the world had narrowed to just the two of you.

Alhaitham’s eyes searched yours, his voice soft when he finally spoke. “I’ve waited for this,” he whispered, his breath warm against your lips. “For so long.”

You smiled, your hand still resting against his chest. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

His lips quirked into a small smile, his thumb brushing your bottom lip before leaning in for another kiss, this one deeper, more assured. You melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as his hand tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was years of longing, of missed moments, of everything that had been left unsaid. And in that moment, nothing else mattered but the two of you.

When you finally broke apart again, both of you were breathing heavily, but neither of you moved to step away. Alhaitham rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, and for the first time in years, you felt whole.

“You’re not leaving again,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with determination.

You smiled, leaning into him. “I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered back.

And in that moment, under the fading light of the evening sky, it felt like everything had finally come full circle.

—usagiibun2024 🐇

𝐝𝐫.𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 ‧₊˚ part 2 | fluff

╰┈➤ fem reader. reader is alhaitham’s patient (this may be a bit self indulgent hehe). mild flirting. fluff. attempt at comedy, just a drabble ig, i love alhaitham fr— WAH a part 2 ?? masterlist

part 1 | part 2

Unknown Number: Hi. This is Dr. Alhaitham. I received your results. Are you available to come in tomorrow?

Your heart skips a full beat.

Wait. Wait.

You reread the message about eight times, thumb trembling over the screen.

Dr. Alhaitham. Dr. ALHAITHAM.

You never gave him your number. Not directly. The clinic must’ve had it on file from your intake paperwork. Still—why did he text? Shouldn’t it have been the nurse? Or the front desk?

Your brain spins in three different directions while your thumbs hesitate, hovering mid-air. What tone do you even take with a man who has seen your bloodwork and your undereye bags?

You: Hi… yes, I’m free. Is everything okay?

You don’t expect a reply right away, but the bubbles pop up almost instantly—like he was waiting. Watching the clock.

Dr. Alhaitham: I’d rather explain in person. It’s nothing urgent. I just… want to speak to you myself. Tomorrow at 10?

You stare. Blink. Re-read. “I just… want to speak to you myself.”

Butterflies launch a full-scale riot in your stomach. Your cheeks go hot. You’re squealing internally as your thumbs tap out a response that’s way too calm for how your heart is behaving.

You: Okay. I’ll be there. Also… is this your personal number?

A beat.

The kind of beat where you spiral. Where you consider throwing your phone across the room, just to escape the weight of your own message.

Your face is burning. Why did you ask that? Why did he use it?

The silence stretches until it starts to ache. And then—ping.

Dr. Alhaitham: Yes.

A full-body meltdown ensues.

You collapse back into the couch like a Victorian woman being told her corset’s been outlawed. He gave you his number. He texted you himself. He wants to talk to you personally.

Tomorrow cannot come fast enough.

The Next Morning…

You show up to the clinic early. Too early. You pretend you’re just organized, but really you’re anxiously clutching your water bottle like it’s a lifeline. You tried to look effortless—pulled-together, but not obvious. Cute, but not trying too hard. Just… normal. Which is laughable, considering the amount of time you spent choosing earrings.

The nurse checks you in with a kind smile. You sit in the waiting room, leg bouncing, rehearsing responses in your head.

Then he appears.

Alhaitham steps out from behind the frosted glass doors. Still in his lab coat, still maddeningly unreadable. But when his eyes find yours—there’s a flicker of something. Recognition. Warmth. Something quieter.

“Come in,” he says, stepping aside.

You could swear—swear—the corner of his mouth twitches, like it’s tempted by a smile.

You follow him in.

The exam room is quiet, neat, humming with soft fluorescent light. You take your seat. He opens your file, but doesn’t look at it. His eyes stay on you.

“I didn’t want to go through the receptionist this time,” he says, voice quiet. “I thought it might make you anxious.”

You blink. The words take a second to land. “Oh. That’s… kind of considerate.”

“Also,” he says, finally glancing down, “your iron levels are low. You’ll need supplements. I’ve written the prescription.”

He slides the slip across the desk like he’s handing you a secret. You take it carefully, like it might crumble.

Silence.

The kind that sits heavy. The kind that means something.

He closes the folder, slow and deliberate. Leans forward just slightly, elbows braced on the desk, fingers laced.

“You didn’t tell me you’d been feeling this way for a while.”

You look away, shoulders curling in slightly. “I didn’t want to be dramatic.”

“You said you were a Victorian woman,” he deadpans.

You smile despite yourself, soft and a little sheepish. “Okay, but that’s just my personality.”

He watches you. Sharp eyes, steady and assessing—but not unkind.

Then, gently: “I don’t think you’re dramatic.”

You suck in a breath, caught off guard.

“I think you’re… overwhelmed. Tired. Maybe not used to being taken seriously.”

Your throat tightens. You bite the inside of your cheek. Something inside you shifts.

“I just treat patients,” he says. “But… I remembered you. More than I expected.”

Your heart slams once, hard. “…Why?” you whisper.

He shrugs, gaze not quite meeting yours. “You made an impression.”

Your grip tightens on the paper in your lap.

And then—his voice drops lower: “If you feel dizzy again… or if anything gets worse—don’t wait. Just message me. Directly.”

You nod, silent.

And as you leave—hand curling around the doorknob, heart thudding in your chest like it’s trying to break free—his hand comes to rest gently on the small of your back.

Warm. Steady. Certain.

You freeze. Just for a breath. His palm lingers there like it belongs, grounding you in the quiet between heartbeats. You swear you feel the heat of it radiating through the fabric of your blouse, straight into your spine.

You try not to melt. Try not to show how much that simple touch undoes you.

Then, just as your breath begins to hitch, he leans in slightly. Not too close. Just enough that his voice slides in low, just above a whisper.

“Go home safely.”

His hand slips away—slowly, deliberately. The loss of contact is almost startling.

You turn, instinctive, eyes finding his.

And he’s already looking at you.

Not blankly. Not politely. No, his gaze is sharp and unreadable, steady and direct. There’s something in it—something knowing—that makes your breath catch and your fingers tighten around the cold metal of the doorknob.

You swallow hard.

You manage to nod. Maybe say “good bye.” You’re not sure. Your brain’s short-circuiting.

You take one step out.

Two.

You don’t even make it to the end of the hallway before your knees buckle slightly. Not enough to fall. Just enough to feel the ghost of his hand still lingering on your back.

11:41 p.m.

Your room is dim, bathed in the glow of your phone screen. You’re curled up in bed, overthinking the day in painful HD. You keep replaying every word. Every glance. Every almost-smile.

You haven’t messaged him. Even though he told you to.

You want to. But courage, it turns out, is fictional after 10 p.m.

Then—your phone lights up.

Dr. Alhaitham: Are you awake?

You sit up so fast you almost concuss yourself on the headboard. Your heart stumbles. Hands fumble.

You: yes?

A pause.

Dr. Alhaitham: Sorry if this is strange. I just remembered something you said the other day.

Your pulse is in your ears. You clutch your phone like it might float away.

You: Which thing? (The Victorian woman part?)

A longer pause. Bubbles come and go.

Dr. Alhaitham: No. The part about collapsing into someone’s arms. You joked. But I keep thinking about it. Wondering if someone’s ever really done that for you.

The air leaves your lungs.

The world stills.

This isn’t a joke anymore.

You: No one ever has. Why?

A minute passes.

Then:

Dr. Alhaitham: Because I think you deserve to be caught. Even when you’re not falling.

You sit frozen in your bed, the blanket bunched around your waist, the silence loud in your ears. His words wrap around you like warmth. Like something you didn’t know you needed.

Then, another message:

Dr. Alhaitham: Sorry. That was unprofessional. Good night.

But you can’t stop staring at the one before it.

“Because I think you deserve to be caught.”

The School Auditorium – 10:07 AM

The lights are too bright. The hum of the overhead fluorescents buzzes against the high ceiling, competing with the chorus of second-graders who are very much not using their indoor voices. You’re wrangling your chaos crew down the aisle—two are arguing about who’s taller, one’s asking if astronauts eat soup, and another is trying to lick the back of their own nametag.

You’re functioning on three hours of sleep, a half-drunk coffee that went cold in your cup holder, and the sheer force of whatever maternal instinct allows a person to stop a glitter spill midair.

You don’t notice the man walking onto the stage at first. Not until the noise cuts.

The chatter dies so suddenly it’s eerie—twenty-five small heads pivoting in unison toward the front like a hive mind has seized them.

You look up.

And your brain short-circuits.

There, standing at the center of the stage, is a man. Clipboard in one hand. Other tucked neatly into the pocket of a lab coat. He’s tall—really tall—built like someone who definitely doesn’t trip over his own feet, and carrying himself with the kind of effortless confidence that makes you feel like you’ve shown up underdressed to your own job.

He’s calm. Polished. Crisp lines and clean edges. A quiet authority that makes even the most fidgety of your kids fall still.

Alhaitham.

Dr. Alhaitham.

Your doctor.

Your heart leaps to your throat and lodges there.

He scans the room slowly, methodically. Dispassionate and professional—until his eyes land on you.

And pause.

Just for a second.

But it’s enough. Your breath catches. Your stomach does a little somersault, unprompted.

You are suddenly painfully aware of the state you’re in: oversized cardigan, mystery glitter on your left sleeve, your hair pinned back with a pencil because someone borrowed your last claw clip. There’s a child gripping your leg like it’s the mast of a sinking ship.

He starts to speak—something about germs and handwashing and healthy habits—but you don’t really hear it. The children do. They’re captivated. Spellbound.

You’re just trying to remember how to breathe.

The talk ends after what feels like a hundred years but also three minutes. You start herding your class toward the exit, one hand on a shoulder, another plucking a crayon from someone’s mouth.

And then your phone buzzes.

You glance down.

Dr. Alhaitham : You didn’t tell me you were a teacher.

You stop mid-step. The world tilts slightly.

You read it again.

You: You didn’t tell me you do school tours.

The reply comes so fast you know he had the message half-written already.

Dr.Alhaitham : I don’t. I only agreed because the principal is a patient. Didn’t expect to see you. (Or twenty-five second graders clinging to your legs.)

A breath escapes you—half laugh, half disbelief. Your heart’s still racing, but it’s a little lighter now. Warmer.

You: Yeah well… you might have cracked the case. That’s why I was always sick. Kid germs are no joke.

You watch the typing bubble appear. Disappear. Appear again.

You can feel the deliberation behind it. He’s thinking. Rethinking. Overthinking. You know the feeling too well.

Then finally—

Dr. Alhaitham : I get it now. All the coughs. The dizziness. The stress. You were holding together an entire classroom by sheer willpower.

You stare at your screen, throat tightening.

Something about the way he says it. The way he sees it.

Then another ping.

Dr. Alhaitham : You’re… kind of incredible, you know. Even with stickers on your pants.

You slap a hand over your mouth to muffle the sound that leaves it. A sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a scream.

Because you look down—and yep. There they are.

Two sparkly dinosaur stickers on your thigh.

And suddenly, you don’t feel quite so exhausted anymore.

—usagii’s note

I wish alhaitham was real :(

#reader is the best fr fr

shoutout to x reader freak blogs we keep fandom alive i love you x reader freak blogs