Sunset Berry Tea. Zhongli X Reader

TOMMOROW AOT COMES OUT IM SO EXCITED ! GAHHHHU

I just read your Professor!Alhaitham x camgirl!reader fic and omg that was some god tier writing! You could feed an entire nation with how much you were cooking.

Also on chapter 3 I thought the lil dinner date was pretty cute, but did get whiplashed(?) when it said that Alhaitham was drinking beer, but isn’t he the driver? Road safety??

hi! thank you so much, I'm glad you enjoyed it so far hehe and yeah, sorry about chapter 3! In my head I see Alhaitham as the type who has a higher tolerance to alcohol ( in the 2nd chapter he had quite alot so he was tipsy but in this chapter you're referring about he had only one and reader had a bit )so even after a drink, he's still in control. He's super calculated and wouldn't drive if he thought he couldn't handle it. I imagine him being very self-aware and responsible about it. But yeah, I'll keep that in mind so it doesn't come off the wrong way <3

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

Thank uuu😭💓

⭑.ᐟ 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌| 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋 ! 𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗑 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝟣𝟪+

— (𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗂𝗆𝗒𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗑.)

part 1

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 5 parts)

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾... this is from my ao3, so enjoy <3

4.6k words

usagiibun2024🐇

Your half-open laptop sat forgotten on the couch, glowing with the low hum of an unfinished series you had tried to binge the night before. Eyes half-closed, you reached for your phone, fumbling to check the time.

8:30 a.m.

“Shit!”

You shot out of bed, tripping over the tangled sheets, heart pounding with the cold rush of adrenaline that only comes from missing something important. Today wasn’t just any day; it was the first lecture of the semester, and you were running late.

You quickly ran into the bathroom, throwing your clothes off and jumping into the shower. Your heart racing frnatucally as you quickly showered and turned it off almost slipping when you got out. The mirror offered you little comfort after you had tied your hair up messily, and threw on the first outfit you managed find—a crumpled sweater and jeans—looked less like ‘casual academic chic’ and more like ‘someone's given up.’ Still, it would have to do. You can go for the 'casual academic chic' tomorrow. Grabbing your bag, you bolted out the door, barely locking it behind you.

The world outside was already moving, buzzing with the noise of morning commuters and their routines. Your apartment building—an old, ivy-covered structure crammed between a café and a bookshop—seemed to blend into the city as you jogged down the street. The crisp autumn air clawed at your skin, urging you to move faster as the sounds of traffic and chatter filled the space around you.

The university campus wasn’t far, but today it felt like each step dragged you deeper into a sinking swamp. Your mind still swirled with the fog of sleep, your heart pounding as the towering lecture hall loomed ahead. A relic of academia, the stone building had seen its share of anxious students, no doubt making their way inside just like you. You could practically hear the ghost of every misstep made before you echoing off the ivy-covered walls.

You pushed open the heavy door, wincing as it creaked. The dim hallway was bathed in the dull yellow light of old fixtures, a stark contrast to the loud murmur of conversation from students filtering in. The quiet tap of your shoes on the worn wooden floor seemed deafening to your own ears.

Don’t be too late. Please.

Reaching the door to the lecture hall, you hesitated, already hearing the smooth, unhurried voice of the professor inside. His words were clear, deliberate, and somehow both calm and utterly dismissive. You slipped in quietly, praying no one would notice.

But then that voice, cool and laced with biting sarcasm, pierced through the room like a knife.

" Ah, nothing says commitment like showing up halfway through the lecture. Punctuality is, of course, the mark of true brilliance."

Your heart dropped. The entire class shifted uncomfortably, the air heavy with awkwardness. Your eyes flicked to the front of the room, but the professor hadn’t even glanced at you. His attention remained fixed on the screen, as if your tardiness was barely worth acknowledging beyond his cutting remark.

You ducked your head, praying you could melt into the crowd of students who were all pretending not to notice.

Settling into a seat at the back, you let out a slow breath. Great. First lecture of the semester, and already, you’d made an impression.

Alhaitham stood at the front, illuminated by the projector’s glow, a man who seemed entirely comfortable in the unyielding rigidity of academia. His pale skin stood out against the dark slate walls of the lecture hall, and his gray hair caught the light—silver at the tips with faint turquoise strands peeking through, subtle but noticeable. His eyes, those unnerving turquoise and gold-rimmed orbs, scanned the room without emotion, as if every student were a puzzle to be solved. His presence commanded attention without demanding it; there was an effortless authority about him, cold and unapologetic.

Everyone knew about him—the prodigy with an unrivalled intellect. But it was his pragmatism that made him infamous. He didn't mince words, nor did he soften his criticism. In his mind, academia was a battlefield, and if you weren’t equipped, you’d be left behind. At just 27, he was already regarded as one of the brightest minds in linguistics, with a list of publications and conference talks that read like someone twice his age. The department had celebrated his arrival like a prized acquisition after the sudden retirement of his predecessor.

As the lecture went on, his words became a blur, and your thoughts wandered. You’d heard the stories. Alhaitham had published papers before most people could finish their dissertations. He was already considered a leading figure in linguistics, and he’d barely been teaching for a year.

You looked around, catching glimpses of students furiously scribbling notes, trying to keep up. But you… you weren’t even processing his words. You were too busy stewing in your own frustration. He wasn’t just smart—he was smug. His entire demeanor screamed ‘I’m better than you,’ and somehow, that got under your skin.

The worst part? He was brilliant. There was no denying that. The ease with which he unraveled complex theories was almost infuriating. It wasn’t just knowledge; it was a performance of intellect, delivered with such cold precision that it made you feel small.

Your phone buzzed causing your eyes to widen as you quickly looked up towards Professor Alhaitham explaining something from a slide. You slide your phone on your desk as you glanced down briefly.

A request for a private session.

You rolled your eyes, stuffing the phone back into your pocket. The cam sessions weren’t supposed to interfere with your life like this. It was just supposed to be something you did on the side. Something that helped keep the bills paid.

When you’d started, it was out of desperation. You had needed to make money, and quickly. Your mother kicked you out due to a dispute —getting by was a struggle. At first, you had gotten a regular job at a coffee shop. But it wasn’t enough. Not even close.

Then a friend had suggested camming. At first, you’d been horrified by the idea. Sitting in front of a camera, doing… that? It felt disgusting, degrading. But after months of struggling, you’d caved. What was supposed to be a temporary fix had become part of your routine. Log in, entertain, log off. Now, it was less of a thrill and more of a chore. You hated to admit it, but it paid better than any job you could have found as a student.

Pushing those thoughts aside you tried to pay attention to professor Alhaitham but you ended up doodling inside your book and also ended up writing a grocery list.

Finally, the lights flickered back on as the lecture ended, and Professor Alhaitham’s voice broke the silence once more. "Chapters two through four by next week. We’ll see who’s keeping up."

He snapped his laptop shut, a final punctuation mark to the end of the lecture, and students began packing their bags. You sighed, stuffing your own notes away as you slung your bag over your shoulder, the door creaked open behind you.

“Hey, wait up!” Layla’s voice pierced through your haze.

You turned to see her weaving through the chairs, looking equally disheveled but far less bothered. She caught up to you with an apologetic grin, her messy hair bouncing with each step. “You okay? You looked pretty rattled back there.”

You huffed, running a hand through your own hair. “I was late. Professor Alhaitham made sure everyone knew. God, what a prick.”

Layla snorted, raising an eyebrow. “Oh no. What did he say? I was kind of zoned out”

“Something about ‘dedication’ and ‘showing up halfway through.’ Like he’s never been late to anything in his entire life.”

Layla chuckled, shaking her head. “I swear, that guy is an enigma. Alot of people dislike him for the way he behaves, but alot of people are desperate to be in his class.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“He’s a genius, obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But it’s more than that. There’s something about him. He doesn’t care what people think, and he never panders. Some people like that kind of honesty.”

"Honesty, my ass. He’s just an asshole."

Layla laughed, nudging your arm. "Maybe, but also I've heard some people have joined his class just because of how hot he is, a bit ridiculous I do say." she says as a yawn escapes past her parted lips, her head gently resting against your shoulder as she tries to fight off fatigue.

You glanced back toward the front of the lecture hall. Alhaitham was still there, gathering his things with calm efficiency, his sharp features illuminated by the faint sunlight streaming in through the tall windows. His movements were deliberate, controlled, like everything in his world followed some intricate set of rules only he understood. You hated how Layla had a point. He was good-looking, in a detached, untouchable kind of way.

You noticed Layla almost falling off to sleep on your shoulder so you gently poked her nose causing her to wake up in shock.

"I think you need to lay off those thesis papers for awhile and get a good sleep" you said to her as she mumbles something and pouts.

You and Layla left the hall, your thoughts drifted again to the complicated web of your life outside these walls. The nights spent streaming, the chat boxes filled with faceless usernames, the anonymous attention that came with your side job. You pushed it to the back of your mind—this wasn’t the time. But still, that strange double life you led lingered like a shadow you couldn’t quite shake.

You slipped back into the comfort of your cluttered apartment, the memory of his sharp words lingered.

When you finally made it back to your apartment, the weight of the day clung to your shoulders. Dropping your bag by the door, you let out a heavy sigh and kicked off your shoes, the soft thud of them hitting the floor echoing in the quiet space. It had been a long day—longer than you expected.

You shuffled into the kitchen, deciding to fix yourself something simple. Your fridge wasn’t exactly stocked, but you managed to throw together a sandwich, something to take the edge off your hunger. As you ate, your thoughts wandered to your schedule for the evening, how it always followed the same routine, a strange comfort in the predictability of it.

After a quick meal, you headed into the bathroom. The warm water of the shower washed away the lingering stress of the day, soothing your muscles and easing your mind, if only for a little while. You stayed under the spray longer than necessary, letting the steam fill the room as you tried to clear your head.

But in the back of your mind, you knew what was coming. Once the clock hit nine, you would become someone else—someone confident, mysterious, and unattainable.

Toweling off, you took your time getting dressed, slipping into some comfortable clothes for the moment. You still had some work to finish before the night began.

As you sat at your desk, staring at the open notes on your laptop, your mind started drifting again. It wasn’t just the lingering tension from class that tugged at your thoughts. There was the constant reminder of why you were doing all of this in the first place.

Your mum hadn’t spoken to you in months, ever since she cut you off financially. Her voice echoed in your head, that final conversation where she’d made it clear—you were on your own. You weren’t doing things her way, and so she wasn’t going to help you anymore.

It had been hard to accept at first. The distance between you, the harshness of her words. But you had no choice now. You had to make things work, no matter what.

That was why you found yourself here, every night, doing things you never thought you’d do. Because you had to survive. This was the only way to keep your apartment, to stay in college. And you couldn’t afford to fail—not now, not with everything at stake.

Your eyes scrunched as you diverted your attention from those stressful thoughts to your notes, a few minutes past as you scrolled through the pages as the hours passed and the sky outside darkened, you checked the time. 8:45. Almost time.

You stood up, crossing the room to your closet. Opening the door, you rifled through the few pieces hanging there before finding what you were looking for—a delicate baby pink lingerie set. The fabric was soft, a stark contrast to the role you were about to step into.

Changing quickly, you adjusted the straps in front of the mirror, checking yourself from different angles. You pulled your hair up into a neat ponytail, a subtle touch that helped keep the two sides of your life separate. The girl in the mirror was confident, poised, ready to perform.

But it wasn’t quite 9:00 yet.

You walked over to your laptop and started setting up, adjusting the angle of your webcam, ensuring that it captured your body

By the time the platform loaded, it was exactly 9:00. Notifications immediately began popping up on your screen as you entered the chat. Regulars and new subscribers alike greeted you, their excitement palpable.

They asked about your day, how have you been as the night played out. After idle chatter with your subscribers, it was finally time for what they actually wanted to see.

The highest bidder requested you to use your pink dildo vibrator. A small smile graced your lips. "As you wish, master" you murmured, pulling out the vibrator. Your eyes darted to the chat window, scanning for familiar usernames, but a disappointed pout formed as you noticed he hadn't joined yet. 'He didn't join yet,' you thought, your mood dampening. The chat flared up with messages as viewers noticed your sulky expression.

You quickly plastered on a smile, bringing the dildo close to the camera, then to your face, smiling seductively.

"So, what do you want me to do first?" The next few minutes blurred into a haze of overstimulation. The bluetooth vibrator buzzed inside you, your fingers rubbing against your pussy lips as shudders coursed through you.

Your clit trembled with the constant intensity, and your body gleamed with a sheen of sweat. Your baby pink lingerie clung to your body as your hand found your nipple, pinching and playing until you came again.

The viewers paid extra to speed up the device, pushing you further and further.

Eyes fluttering open briefly, you scanned the chats again.

Your heart skipped a beat when a familiar username appeared User1102. Your thighs trembled as the vibrator reached its highest speed, your body shaking uncontrollably as you came, making a mess along your legs and lingerie. Breathing erratic, vision blurred, you were practically limp from the overstimulation.

User1102: Bunny... take a break. The chat was filled with other messages, people tipping for extra time or requesting private sessions. But your attention was glued to his message.

User1102: I'do like a private session.

[User1102 tipped $100!]

A soft smile formed on your lips despite your exhaustion. The other subscribers seemed annoyed, trying to out-tip him, but you already knew your choice.

"I'm super tired right now, so I'm only taking one private session! Thank you, guys, see you next week Tuesday~" You threw in a small finger heart, trying to ignore the love confessions and anger from you ending your live so soon.

After ending the public live stream, your heart raced as you adjusted your hair and lingerie, sending a private request to User1102. The request was accepted, and your body appeared on screen.

You smiled, head tilted slightly. "Hi, what can Ms. Bunny do for you tonight?" you asked, your voice low and sultry, though your heart pounded with nerves. You couldn’t stop the thoughts from racing in your head.

Why do I always get so excited for this particular subscriber? Why does he make my heart race faster and my cheeks flush pink?

The first time User1102 appeared in your live stream, someone had requested you to overstimulate yourself to the point of discomfort. Eyes glazed with tears, you tried to push through the discomfort, but your mind kept wandering. Rent was due, and the $400 being offered was something you couldn’t turn down. But you felt pathetic, disgusted even, for putting yourself through that pain.

That was when User1102 first message caught your attention.

User1102: Stop what you're doing. You're clearly uncomfortable.

The original requester got angry, but then

User1102: tipped $400.

User1102: End the live. I'd like a private session with you.

[User1102 tipped $200]

Your movements had stopped, stunned by the sudden change. The other subscribers were furious, but you nervously smiled and ended the stream. His private session that night had been different from any other. No requests for anything sexual just for you to drink water and change into something comfortable. He'd only stayed for a few minutes to make sure you felt better, then sent a simple message before leaving.

'Don't do things you feel uncomfortable doing.'

You were utterly confused, could the person have been someone who has mistakenly tumbled upon your stream from an ad?

You had'nt expected to see him again, but he came back for the next session. And the one after that. And eventually, you started looking forward to his presence, even if you didn't know what he looked like. --- You let out a soft sigh, your fingers shaking slightly as you adjusted your lingerie on screen.

User1102 message popped up again.

User1102 : are you okay bunny to do something small for me ?

You quickly nod your head eagerly, already ready to do whatever he asked (as long as it wasn't some weird ass kink).

User1102: okay, Bunny, grab the dildo you used earlier.

Your eyes widened slightly at the straightforward request. Hesitantly, you reached for the pink dildo that was still slick from earlier. You toyed with it in your hands for a moment, waiting for his next command.

User1102: Spit on it.

You froze for a second, processing his request. Sure, you'd done things like that before, but it was unexpected from him. Still, you complied.

Leaning forward, you let your saliva drip onto the tip of the dildo.

User1102: Now, Bunny, be a good girl and clean your mess up.

Your pussy throbbed at the words. Slowly, you began sucking at the dildo, cleaning off your spit with your tongue, trailing it down the length of the toy. As you worked, a notification flashed on the screen.

User1102: Play with yourself, Bunny.

Your hand left your breast, fingers finding your clit as you jolted on the bed. The added stimulation forced a moan out of you, louder than you'd intended, but you couldn't stop.

User1102: You're so pretty, making a mess all over.

The tension in your stomach tightened, your vision blurring as you angled your fingers just right. The coil in your stomach snapped, your body was trembling as the final wave of pleasure hit you, vision blurring as you came undone. The clear liquid dripped down your thighs, making a mess of your lingerie and the sheets beneath you. You lay there panting, catching your breath, feeling the heat slowly dissipate from your body.

User1102: You were amazing. Good girl.

Those two words sent another shiver down your spine. Your heart fluttered at the praise, and before you could stop yourself, the words slipped out of your mouth, genuine and raw: "Anything for you..." Your cheeks flushed red immediately after.

You couldn’t believe you had said that out loud. Your mind was in a haze, the warmth of the afterglow still lingering, but a strange conflict bubbled up inside you.

A small part of you, buried deep down, wanted to scream at yourself for how you felt about this man, a random stranger hidden behind a username. It was foolish to feel like this. A ridiculous crush, on someone who could very well be as old as your father. You closed your eyes for a second, lost in your thoughts, but his next message broke through.

User1102: go clean up, just take it easy when you do so. maybe run a hot shower or bath to relax your muscles. you did really good today.

User1102: Rest now. Goodnight, Bunny.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you read the message. There was something so caring, so comforting about how he ended things.

He didn’t push for more, didn’t ask for anything beyond what you were comfortable with.

"Good night" you said sweetly, your eyes widening at the 400$ tip he left as he logs off. At this point you should just do private sessions with the amount of money he spends on you.

As the session ended, the room fell into a heavy silence. The screen of your laptop went dark, leaving you in the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You let out a tired sigh, rolling onto your back. It was late, and exhaustion was starting to weigh you down. You grabbed your phone to check the time, but instead, you noticed a notification from your email.

A familiar name caught your eye. Professor Alhaitham. The email had been sent before you even started your session. You clicked it open and skimmed through it, rolling your eyes the moment you saw what it was about: a pop quiz.

"Ugh, that asshole" you muttered under your breath, tossing the phone aside. The last thing you needed was a quiz first thing in the morning. And of course, he just had to schedule it for 8 AM. You groaned in frustration. Now, you'd definitely need a good night's rest.

You’d barely slept the night before, and it showed. Your body still ached from the public and private session you’d done, and your limbs felt heavy as you dragged yourself through the hall. Luckily you had awoken around 5:30 am and was at campus around 7. You still had a few more minutes to spare until your first lecture and the dreaded pop quiz.

You knew shit cause you didn't revise saying that you would do it in the morning. Well that was a lie.

'I'll just wing it' you thought as you walked into the café to grab some coffee. The café’s comforting warmth felt like a small refuge. You needed caffeine, something to drag you out of this groggy haze. The barista handed you the cup. The place was packed with students and lecturers as you squeezed through people. Distracted by your thoughts, you barely noticed where you were going.

And that’s when you collided into something hard.

You walked right into a firm, solid chest. The impact sent a jolt through your body, and for a second, the world seemed to stop. The smell of something clean—like freshly washed linen, with the faintest hint of sandalwood—filled your senses, grounding you even as the embarrassment flooded your face. Your nose twitched from pain as you let out a small 'ow'.

You looked up, and your heart stuttered in your chest.

It was him.

The devil himself, the man who thought it would be great to have a pop quiz in the morning.

Professor Alhaitham.

Oh and also the man who had humiliated you in front of the entire class just yesterday, his words sharp and cutting as if you were some lazy student who had rolled out of bed with no care. And here you were, nearly doing the same thing. You opened your mouth to apologize, but then your eyes met his, and something inside you froze.

He stared at you with a wide-eyed look, his usual unbothered, calm demeanor completely gone. For a moment, his face seemed to soften, surprise mixing with something else you couldn’t place. His light turquoise eyes were framed by long lashes, and you were momentarily struck by how striking his gaze was. His lips parted, as if to say something, but no sound came out.

What was his problem?

You shifted awkwardly, your body still brushing against his, and suddenly you became hyper-aware of how close you were. His chest was firm beneath his clothes, his body warm, and for a brief moment, you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath. His presence felt… overwhelming. The scent of him, the way his tall frame seemed to block out everything else.

And yet, there was something off. His reaction wasn’t what you’d expect from someone as stoic and composed as he had seemed in class. His eyes flickered with recognition—like he’d seen you somewhere before. But how could that be?

Before you could piece together what was happening, his eyes darted away, the strange look quickly masked by his usual indifference. He straightened, but his hands twitched, as if he were unsure of what to do with them.

You blinked, quickly stepping back, trying to find your voice. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, barely able to look at him. You felt like your face was on fire, and all you wanted to do was escape the situation.

He said nothing at first, still staring at you with that strange intensity. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat. “It’s fine,” he murmured, his voice deeper than you remembered from class. But there was something in his tone, something that almost felt… uncertain.

You mumbled another apology, your heart racing, and without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and rushed out of the café, the sound of your pounding footsteps drowning out the whirlwind of confusion in your head.

What the hell was that? You couldn’t shake the strange feeling his reaction had left you with. Was it embarrassment from the way he had insulted you in class? No—this was different. The way he looked at you wasn’t just surprise. There was something else in his eyes.

You shoved the thought out of your mind. It didn’t matter. He was just your professor, and you had to keep it that way, no matter how weird things got. Your eyes brighten when you noticed you didn't spill your coffee as you hurried down the cafe and took a right turn towards the lecture hall that Professor Al haitham's lecture will be held.

Unaware of the turmoil you had just left behind, Alhaitham stood frozen in place. His hands were still shaking, heart hammering in his chest, and he couldn’t stop replaying the moment over in his mind.

It was you.

The cam girl. The one he’d been watching for weeks. The one he had subscribed to under an anonymous name, indulging in those private sessions like they were his guilty pleasure. He had never planned on it becoming more than a fleeting escape—a place where he could admire you from afar, behind the safety of his screen.

But now, standing there, his chest still tingling from where you had bumped into him, the reality hit him with terrifying force.

He knew your body, your voice, the way you moved in front of the camera. But you… you had no idea who he was. To you, he was just the arrogant professor who had mocked you in class.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

His pulse quickened, his mind racing through the implications. His favorite cam girl was now his student, and she didn’t even know.

part 2

⭑.ᐟ 𝖻𝗅𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾𝗌| 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗋 ! 𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆 𝗑 𝖼𝖺𝗆𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 — 𝗇𝗌𝖿𝗐 𝟣𝟪+

part 4 [final]

— (𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗂𝗆𝗒𝗈𝗇 𝗈𝗇 𝗑.)

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, masturbating( f and m), doggy style, mating press, language, slight breeding kink, multiple orgasms, body worshipping (f! receiving) (these warnings are for all 4 parts)

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾... I FINALLY WROTE THE LAST PART (im sorry i took months but ehe..here)

11.6k words (i died writing but i hope you guys enjoy it)

pls do leave a like, a reblog and mostly a comment !! thank youuu hehe <3

usagiibun2025🐇

After slipping out of the college building, you both move quickly toward Alhaitham’s car, almost as if trying to stay out of sight, like you’re concealing a secret too precious to be seen. His hand hovers near the small of your back, guiding you with a gentle but firm touch, and your pulse races each time his fingers brush against you. In the dimming evening light, shadows lengthen over the campus, wrapping around you as though trying to draw you together in a quiet intimacy.

Once you reach his car, you both slide in without a word, but the silence thrums with something unspoken. The scent of leather and the faintest trace of his cologne settle around you, mingling with the soft warmth of the evening air. He starts the car, and you can’t help but glance at him, noticing the slight dishevelment in his appearance—the faint tousling of his hair, the loosened collar, small signs of the heated moments just passed. There’s a charged stillness between you, and when his gaze shifts over, meeting yours, you both exchange a look that says everything without a word.

As he pulls out of the lot, you feel an ache blooming inside—a desire mixed with anticipation, but there’s an unexpected nervousness threading through it all. Your eyes drift to the darkening sky outside, watching as the soft hues of the sunset melt away, replaced by a quiet dusk that grows thicker with every mile.

Glancing sideways, you catch his profile in the fading light, his expression calm and controlled, yet there’s an undeniable heat in his gaze when he looks at you—a glint that makes your heart race and your thoughts spin even faster.

Your mind starts racing with a plethora of questions. What would happen after tonight? Would he even care to know you beyond this? Or was this all just a moment of curiosity for him? You’re excited, yes, but the uncertainty feels like a weight pressing on your chest but then, beneath the excitement and nervous thrill, another reality sharpens into focus—he’s your professor. The thought winds around your mind, a reminder of just how complicated this could become.

The closer you get to your apartment, the more your mind races, tangling with thoughts you can’t quite silence.

In the dim glow of the passing streetlights, he notices the shift in your expression, and his eyes linger on you a little longer. “Are you okay?” he asks quietly, his voice careful, threading through the silence with a calm steadiness.

You hesitate, glancing down, hands tightening against each other in your lap. There’s a flutter of uncertainty and the gnawing fear that maybe you’re reading too much into this. “Yeah, I just…” You trail off, trying to find the words, but they feel heavy on your tongue, reluctant to reveal the vulnerability simmering beneath the surface.

He pulls the car to the side of the road, dim and tucked away, turning his full attention to you. His gaze is so intent that it makes you feel seen in a way that both unnerves and comforts you. His expression softens, and the patience in his light turquoise eyes calms some of the jittery nerves swirling in your stomach.

“If you’re not sure about this,” he begins, his tone gentle and grounding, “we don’t have to go any further. I can just take you home, and we’ll leave things as they were.”

The softness in his voice, the reassurance without expectation, makes something twist inside of you, and you shake your head almost instinctively. “No.” Your hand reaches out, tentatively finding his where it rests on the console, and his fingers curl around yours, enveloping your hand in his. The size difference is striking—his fingers strong, warm, almost encompassing yours entirely. A small comfort, grounding you.

Looking down at your joined hands, your heart stutters with a mix of emotions. Could you really mean this much to him, as more than just something fleeting? Or are you just trying to comfort yourself with false hopes ? You gather your breath, the words tangled in your chest, but you finally find the courage to let them out, voice barely a whisper. “I… I really like you, Alhaitham,” you admit, eyes flickering up to meet his. “Even though I couldn’t stand you at first,” you add with a soft, nervous laugh, hoping the admission doesn’t seem foolish.

His thumb gently traces over your knuckles, a faint smile lifting his lips. “I’m aware,” he says quietly, the teasing lilt in his voice lightening the moment, his eyes crinkling at the corners just slightly, like he’s remembering every sharp look and dismissive glance you ever sent his way.

You try to smile, but the vulnerability hangs heavy. “It’s just… after this, I don’t know how things will be. And I don’t want this to just be… a one-time thing.” Your voice trembles slightly, betraying the fear you’ve tried so hard to hold back. “I know it probably doesn’t mean as much to you. I mean… I’m just a cam girl to you, right?”

His expression shifts, a flicker of surprise and something deeper crossing his face. Before you can say anything else, he reaches out, his hand cradling your cheek, thumb tracing softly over your skin, grounding you in that gentle touch. He looks at you with an intensity that goes beyond words, like he’s peeling back every layer, taking in everything you’re struggling to hide.

“It wasn’t… always this way,” he admits, his voice low and warm. “At first, yes—it was just curiosity. But the more I watched, the more I noticed things I didn’t expect.” His gaze holds yours, his sincerity radiating through every word. “You aren’t just a face on a screen. There’s a depth to you—how you speak, how you think. I like you for… more than what you’re afraid of.”

The honesty in his eyes, the gentleness in his touch, dissolves some of the tension in your chest. But the moment feels fragile, like the weight of your insecurities might shatter it, and your breath hitches, the emotion catching in your throat.

Before you realize it, a tear slips down your cheek, thick and glistening, catching the dim light like a crystal. You feel foolish, trying to wipe it away, but he brushes it aside first, his thumb gentle as it trails over your skin, leaving warmth in its wake.

He misreads the reason behind your tears, concern softening his gaze. “You don’t have to feel pressured into anything,” he murmurs. “We can stop here, if this is too much for you.”

You shake your head, your hand rising to cover his where it cups your cheek, grounding you in the warmth and steadiness of him. “No, it’s… it’s not that,” you whisper, voice barely steady. “I’m just… scared, I guess. I’m scared of wanting more.”

His thumb brushes gently along your jawline, and his eyes hold yours, unwavering. “You don’t need to be afraid of that.” His voice is low, but each word carries a quiet conviction. “I like you too. For more than what you think.”

The sincerity in his tone, the simple truth of his words, reaches something deep within you. And as you look into his eyes, you see the warmth there, a tenderness that mirrors the feelings you’ve kept guarded for so long. It’s enough to ground you, to soothe the ache of uncertainty, even if just for this moment.

For a while, neither of you speak, the silence settling comfortably between you as his hands stay cradling your face, your fingers gently brushing over his. His eyes search yours with a quiet intensity, as though he’s memorizing every detail, every unspoken thought hidden behind your gaze. And in that stillness, you feel a kind of calmness settle over you—a calmness that promises that whatever comes next, this moment is real.

With the air between you charged, and his touch grounding you in ways you hadn’t expected, your gaze falls to his mouth, lingering there as your pulse quickens. Gathering the courage from the look in his eyes—gentle yet intense, like he’s offering a silent promise—you lean in, heart racing as your lips finally meet his.

The first contact is soft, tentative, but quickly the kiss deepens, taking on a fervent urgency. His hands slide up, one hand steady on the side of your face, the other resting along your back, pulling you closer until there’s no distance left. Your mouths part in sync, and the kiss grows hungrier, tongues brushing, tasting, as if you’re both pouring out every unspoken feeling into that single moment. The sensation is overwhelming, and his mouth against yours feels like a perfect mix of warmth and something deeper, as though he’s letting you glimpse every emotion he’s held back.

Without breaking the kiss, Alhaitham’s hands find your waist, his grip firm but gentle as he guides you across the console, pulling you into his lap. You settle against him, feeling the strength beneath his steady composure, the subtle shift in his breath, as if even he is losing his usual restraint. His hand splays across your lower back, holding you securely as your fingers tangle into his hair, drawing him closer, desperate for more.

You both fit together, the closeness erasing all hesitation. His fingers press into your back, drawing you even closer, and when his tongue slides against yours again, a soft sound escapes you, caught between surprise and desire. The kiss continues, long and unbroken, as if neither of you want it to end. Each movement, each soft press of his lips and gentle trace of his hands, conveys the quiet intensity that words can’t quite capture.

Finally, he pulls back just enough for his forehead to rest against yours, breaths mingling in the close air. His gaze, now clouded and intent, meets yours, and in that stillness, you realize how much you both wanted this moment—how it goes beyond just the physical, reaching somewhere neither of you had planned.

Your apartment welcomed the both of you in hushed tones, the soft click of the door behind you folding the night outside. You slipped your shoes off with quiet ease, and Alhaitham followed, the space still unfamiliar to him, yet already wrapped in the scent of you—warm, faintly floral, lived-in.

He didn’t ask where to go. He didn’t need to. When you offered your hand, he took it without hesitation, your fingers weaving into his as you guided him through the soft-lit hall and into your bedroom. It was modest, personal. A place shaped by your solitude and quiet nights. He stood there for a moment, letting his eyes settle on the details—the books on your nightstand, the folds in your bedsheets, the way the curtains swayed slightly from an open window.

You turned to him then, your hand still in his, delicate and steady. “Would you pick something for me? And to put it on ?” you asked, voice hushed like a confession. “For tonight’s stream.”

There was no playfulness in your tone—only trust. An offering.

He nods. Wordlessly, you slipped your fingers from his and walked to your wardrobe. When you opened it, the different outfits stretched toward him like a quiet invitation. You stepped aside to give him room, and he moved forward with a kind of reverence, letting his gaze drift slowly over silks and lace, colours and textures, all these glimpses of the you the world never truly knew.

His hand hovered for a breath before settling on a piece—black, delicate, the kind of fabric that would whisper over skin and hold moonlight in its threads. He drew it out gently, as though it were something sacred.

And then—he simply looked at you. Eyes steady, mesmerized. Like he wasn’t just seeing a woman, but a moment. A choice. A silence filled with meaning.

 Alhaitham gently held up the delicate black lingerie he has picked for you, his eyes met yours, lingering with a mixture of admiration and restraint. The sheer fabric, detailed with intricate lace and soft ribbons, seemed almost fragile in his hands, yet he handled it with reverence, as though it were crafted just for you. His gaze roamed over the piece before returning to meet your eyes, silently asking if you were ready.

As your fingers moved to the hem of your shirt, you felt Alhaitham’s eyes on you, watching your every movement with an intensity that made the room feel warmer. You took a deep, steadying breath, your heart hammering in your chest, then slowly lifted the fabric over your head, letting it fall to the floor. Your hands nimbly work at your bra, snapping it open and releasing your breasts.

Your face burns red, mind racing with thousands of thoughts. You couldn't believe you where undressing in front of your professor, the thought of this made your skin flush and body tremble as his gaze lingered, tracing the lines of your form as if trying to capture each detail, his usual calm demeanor shifting, almost breaking.

Your fingers hooked at your skirt, gulping lighting as you pulled the material down revealing the delicate  panties you wore, adorned with a tiny bow at the front.

The fabric clung to your folds, accentuating the shape of your cunt. A subtle dampness had formed between your folds, making the material slightly sheer, hinting at your body's response to his presence. Alhaitham admired the way the panties hugged you perfectly, creating a contrast that was both innocent and alluring.

Your gaze falls back on him, his grip on the lingerie tight and his eyes never left the sight of your body, drinking it in, you hesitated only slightly before hooking your fingers into the sides of your underwear, feeling sligtly conscious.

His eyes held an unspoken encouragement, unwavering and patient, as if he wanted you to take your time and savor this vulnerable moment.

Finally, you pushed the last piece of fabric down, letting it pool at your feet.  You stood completely bare before him, every nerve in your body heightened.

Your nipples were perked from the cold chill from the room, your pussy glistening from your arousal— the sight of you made Alhaitham’s cock throb.

Though he had already seen you in your most intimate moments through the screen, standing here now, bare and vulnerable in front of him, felt entirely different. His gaze roamed over you, slow and reverent, drinking in every detail as if memorizing it. There was an awe in his eyes, as if the glow of your skin and the curve of your form held a softness that had been missed by any camera lens. Here, under his intense gaze, you felt more ethereal than ever, like he was seeing something hidden beneath the surface.

Alhaitham took a step closer, his expression softened, yet his eyes held a hunger that sent a shiver down your spine. Slowly, he reached out, his fingers skimming along your shoulder and down the curve of your arm, a featherlight touch that left goosebumps in its wake. His touch felt reverent, each brush of his hand tracing your form with a sense of purpose.

When he began to dress you, guiding each delicate piece of lingerie onto your skin, his hands worked slowly, his fingers pressing gently into the plushness of your thighs as he adjusted the garters and straps. His hands traced upwards, pausing as his fingertips brushed close to your core, teasing, lingering there with an excruciating lightness. His gaze never left yours, as though drawn to the expression in your eyes, a magnetic pull that kept him anchored.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a low hum, his fingers still teasingly close but never quite touching. “More than I could have imagined.”

The words left you breathless, and the ghostlike traces of his hands, the heat of his proximity, only intensified the longing pooling between you. His touch was filled with restraint, a slow burn, making every gentle, teasing pass of his fingers a silent promise for what was yet to come. Once Alhaitham had stepped out of frame, he takes a seat on a chair that was directly behind your cam set up. Your eyes were drawn to him, his intense eyes stare at you, you couldn't help but stare at the way

The live session began with a soft chime, and you immediately slipped into your usual persona, a flirtatious smile gracing your lips as you leaned forward, ensuring the angle was just enough to tease your audience without giving too much away.

“Good evening, my loves,” you purred, your voice dripping with honey. “Miss Bunny missed you all so much. Did you miss me too?”

The chat exploded with responses, compliments flooding in about how beautiful you looked tonight, how stunning your lingerie was, and how they had been counting the hours until they could see you again. Your fingers danced over the comments as you read them aloud, your tone playful and coy.

“‘You look ravishing tonight, Bunny.’ Aw, thank you! I try my best for you,” you cooed, shifting slightly on the bed, your skin prickling with awareness.

But despite your focus on the screen, your gaze kept betraying you, darting back to where Alhaitham sat behind the camera. His eyes—those piercing aquamarine depths—bore into you, unwavering and intense. The dim light made him appear almost predatory, the sharp lines of his face casting shadows that highlighted the slight tension in his jaw. His shirt stretched over his broad chest, the muscles beneath barely contained, and his long legs spread slightly, a picture of composed control.

Your breath hitched as you adjusted your position, pressing your clothed mound against the soft mattress beneath you, seeking any kind of friction to alleviate the growing ache between your legs. His gaze was doing things to you that the camera never could, igniting a need that made your body hum.

“‘You seem a little distracted tonight, Bunny,’” you read aloud with a pout, trying to brush off the comment as casually as possible. “Oh, I’m sorry, loves. My professor has been stressing me out. So much work to do after this stream, you wouldn’t believe it.” You added a playful whine, letting your bottom lip jut out in a pout, but the sudden stillness from behind the camera made your stomach twist.

Then you saw it.

“‘Oh, does Miss Bunny have a crush on her professor? We all heard you last night~’”

Your eyes widened, the heat rushing to your face as if you had been caught in the act. For a split second, you froze, unable to tear your gaze from the message, and you heard the faintest sound of movement behind you—a soft exhale from Alhaitham, his presence suddenly heavier in the room.

You quickly tried to recover, laughing it off with a nervous giggle, your voice a pitch higher than usual. “You all have such vivid imaginations,” you murmured, your cheeks burning.

But then another comment caught your eye:

“‘Why don’t you show us how much you like your professor, Bunny? Touch yourself while thinking about him.’”

The suggestion made your breath catch, your immediate instinct to decline, to change the subject and move on. But as you glanced back at Alhaitham, his eyes locked with yours, an idea sparked.

The thought of teasing him, of showing him how much power you could wield even in this vulnerable setting, made your pulse quicken. If he wanted to act unaffected, so composed, you would test that resolve.

“Hmm,” you murmured, your lips curving into a slow, sultry smile. “You want me to do that? To think about my professor while I…”

You trailed off, letting your fingers trail teasingly along your thigh, drawing the movement out for maximum effect. Your eyes flicked back to Alhaitham, whose expression remained stoic, though the sharpness in his gaze betrayed the tension simmering beneath his calm façade.

“Well,” you continued, your tone low and seductive, “maybe I’ll indulge you just this once…”

Leaning back slightly, you trailed a finger along your collarbone, letting the soft material of your lingerie shift just enough to tease without revealing too much. The chat erupted with responses, flooding your screen with suggestions and desires.

“Well, loves,” you purred, your voice like velvet, “what do you want me to do tonight? Tell me what’s on your mind.”

The messages came in fast, some playful, others downright filthy. You skimmed through them, your lips curving into a coy smile.

“‘Touch yourself, Bunny,’” you read aloud, letting a breathy chuckle escape. “‘Let us see how much you’re craving.’”

Your fingers drifted down to the sheer fabric covering your thighs, tracing slow, deliberate circles as you played up the anticipation. You were already soaked, your arousal pooling and seeping through the delicate garment. The cool air against your heated skin only heightened your awareness of just how wet you were.

“All for you,” you whispered, letting your voice dip lower, your hand brushing over the sensitive spot between your legs. The friction made you gasp softly, the sound slipping out before you could stop it.

Behind the camera, Alhaitham shifted. The faintest creak of the chair reached your ears, and you dared to glance at him. His aquamarine eyes were darkened, a storm of emotions swirling within them—desire, tension, and something almost primal. His jaw was clenched, the muscles there tightening as he watched you.

The lighting cast soft shadows on his face, emphasising the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jawline. His hair looked slightly tousled, strands falling over his forehead, catching the dim glow of the room. His shirt clung to his chest, outlining the firm lines of his muscles, and his slacks were taut, leaving little to the imagination as his thighs tensed.

Your gazes locked, and the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. You dragged your bottom lip between your teeth, your fingers dipping lower, pressing against the damp fabric as a soft moan escaped your lips. His stare never wavered, and you could see the subtle movement of his throat as he swallowed hard, his restraint slipping.

The chat buzzed with excitement, and you picked out another comment, your voice breathless as you read: “‘Roleplay for us, Bunny. Pretend he’s watching you.’”

You hesitated for a moment, the suggestion sparking a wicked idea. Adjusting yourself on the bed, you let your legs part slightly, giving the camera—and Alhaitham—a better view.

“Are you watching, sir?” you murmured, your tone dripping with seduction. “Do you see how much I need you?”

The words hung in the air, and you didn’t miss the way Alhaitham’s hands gripped the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths, but his eyes betrayed him, darkened and smouldering as they raked over your every movement.

You pushed the fabric aside slightly, your slick arousal glistening in the low light, and ran your fingers along your folds, teasing yourself as a louder moan slipped free. The sound seemed to snap something in him; his posture stiffened, and his jaw tightened as though he was fighting an internal battle.

Your eyes darted back to his lap, noticing the unmistakable strain in his slacks. His arousal was evident, and the knowledge sent a rush of heat through you. You locked eyes with him again, your gaze challenging, daring him to do something as you pushed the boundaries further.

“Would you punish me for being such a tease, Professor?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly from the sensations coursing through you but still carrying that edge of defiance. “Or would you finally give me what I’ve been craving?”

Your eyes darted to Alhaitham as he pulled out his phone, his expression composed and unreadable. Despite his calm demeanour, the air around him was electric, heavy with an unspoken tension. You shifted slightly, feeling the thin fabric of your lingerie press against your damp skin as you adjusted yourself on the bed. His sharp teal eyes caught yours briefly, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there—a knowing look that made your stomach twist deliciously with anticipation.

Moments later, the familiar notification chimed, signalling that User1102 had joined your stream. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced at the comment section, his name boldly displayed among the sea of usernames.

"Ease a finger in for professor. [$100]"

The boldness of the request made your breath hitch. Your gaze snapped back to Alhaitham, who was leaning casually against the chair, his phone resting in his hand as if he hadn’t just typed out that audacious message. His eyes glimmered with mischief, a subtle but undeniable challenge in their depths.

Heat rushed to your cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and arousal, as the realisation settled in. He’s User1102. He’s been watching you consistently all this time. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t stop the soft groan that slipped from your lips.

Swallowing your nerves, you decided to play along, lifting your gaze back to the camera with a coy smile. “Seems like someone has a thing for professors,” you purred, your voice dripping with seduction. Your fingers trailed down your body, grazing over the delicate lace of your garment before slipping between your thighs.

Your touch met your slick folds through the sheer fabric, and you let out a soft gasp, your back arching slightly as you pressed against yourself. “Anything for my viewers,” you whispered, your tone teasing, though your eyes flicked to Alhaitham, whose stare had darkened considerably.

His jaw clenched, and the faint smirk on his lips widened just enough to reveal his amusement. His sharp eyes burned into you, following every movement of your hands with an intensity that made your skin tingle.

The next comment appeared, and you felt your heart race.

"Add another finger. [$100]"

You hesitated, your breath catching as your thighs instinctively clenched together. The sheer audacity of the request made you feel vulnerable, yet you couldn’t ignore the thrill coursing through you. Slowly, you glanced at Alhaitham again.

He didn’t say a word, but the look in his eyes spoke volumes. His composure was maddening, but the way his Adam's apple bobbed ever so slightly as he swallowed betrayed his growing tension. His knuckles were white as he gripped his phone, his slacks tight across his thighs, leaving little to the imagination.

A wicked idea formed in your mind. If he wanted to play this game, you were more than willing to raise the stakes. Sliding your hand beneath the fabric, your fingers dipped into your dripping core, and you let out a soft moan, the sound raw and unrestrained.

“Just for you… professor,” you murmured breathlessly, your voice laced with feigned innocence as your gaze locked with his. The word rolled off your tongue with deliberate seduction, and the effect was immediate.

Alhaitham’s gaze darkened further, his chest rising and falling as he fought to maintain control. The faint smirk was gone now, replaced by a hunger that made your stomach flip. He shifted slightly in his chair, his hand running over his thigh as if to steady himself, but you didn’t miss the way his pants strained against the evidence of his arousal.

The power shift was intoxicating, and as you moved your fingers within yourself, you felt an overwhelming desire to push him even further.

Your breath hitched as another comment from User1102 appeared on the screen, the message short but dripping with sensual command:

"Faster, bunny. Let me hear how much you want me."

The words sent a jolt straight to your core, your body shivering with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Alhaitham. His teal gaze pierced through you like a flame, sharp and consuming. His composure was cracking—his jaw tight, his hand gripping the edge of the chair as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Your fingers moved faster, the wet sounds filling the air as you threw your head back, unable to stop the stream of moans spilling from your lips. “P-Professor,” you whimpered, the word tumbling out as a sinful plea, each syllable heavy with desperation. You didn’t even care if it reached his ears; it was as if the need to push him further, to feel his eyes devour you, overrode everything else.

You blurted shameless phrases, the heat of the moment stripping you of all restraint. “So tight… so wet for you,” you babbled, voice breathless and trembling. “You feel so good… I—I need you...” Your voice hitched again, a crescendo of need, and you dared a glance at him.

Alhaitham’s face betrayed him now, the tension in his slacks impossible to miss. His chest rose and fell heavily, his usually stoic expression cracked open by the intensity of his gaze. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but no words came. The flicker of a vein on his temple spoke volumes about his struggle to remain in control.

The sight of him—so composed yet barely holding back—drove you over the edge. Your fingers moved with wild abandon, pressing deep, hitting the perfect spot as you gasped and cried out. Pleasure exploded within you, a wave so intense that it left you trembling, your juices spilling over your fingers and soaking the sheer fabric. Your hips bucked helplessly against your own touch, seeking more even as your body spasmed with the force of your orgasm.

“Ah… haith—” you moaned brokenly, his name almost slipping past your lips in a haze of pleasure. Your vision blurred, your breaths coming in short, frantic pants as you slumped forward, utterly spent.

Even as the aftershocks rippled through you, your eyes found him again. He hadn’t moved from his seat, but his grip on the armrest was iron-tight, his knuckles white. His teal eyes burned into yours, fierce and unyielding, the dim lighting casting sharp shadows over his sharp cheekbones and strong jaw. His shirt clung to his chest and shoulders, stretched taut across the muscles you’d memorised in the heat of that unforgettable night.

You couldn’t breathe under the weight of his gaze, its intensity leaving you feeling both exposed and desired in equal measure. Your body still tingled, warmth pooling low in your belly as you realised the effect you’d had on him. Dizzy and dazed, your lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.

Alhaitham’s jaw tightened, and he shifted in his seat, his gaze still locked on you like you were the only thing in the room. The air between you was thick, electric, and filled with an unspoken tension that neither of you could deny.

He had done this to you—undone you completely with just a few typed words and the sheer force of his presence. And as you sat there, still catching your breath, you realised you were utterly and irrevocably at his mercy.

Your eyes lingered on the camera for a moment, chest still heaving as you tried to collect yourself. The wetness on your fingers glistened in the dim light, and a bold idea formed in your hazy mind. Slowly, deliberately, your gaze shifted to Alhaitham, his teal eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your pulse race anew.

Without breaking eye contact, you brought your fingers to your lips, parting them slightly. Your tongue flicked out, delicate and teasing, before you slowly sucked your fingers clean. The action was languid, sensual, your lips curling slightly as you tasted yourself, never letting go of his piercing gaze.

Alhaitham’s reaction was visceral. His chest rose and fell with deep, controlled breaths, his usually steady composure visibly faltering. His eyes darkened, the teal deepening like a stormy sea, as his jaw tightened, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in a hard swallow. He gripped the armrests of the chair, his knuckles turning white, as though the simple action might tether him to the last shreds of his control.

Heat rolled off him in waves, and for the first time, you felt like you had the upper hand.

You pulled your fingers away with a soft pop, licking your lips before flashing a sweet, playful smile at the camera. "Well, that’s all for tonight, my lovelies,” you purred, your tone coy but tinged with lingering arousal. “I have so much work to finish, or my professor will have my ass—and not in the fun way.”

A soft giggle escaped you as you leaned forward, turning the camera off with a final wave. The screen went dark, and the room was silent except for the sound of your uneven breathing.

When you turned back, the weight of the moment hit you like a tidal wave. Alhaitham was still seated, his posture stiff, but his eyes… they burned. The lust in his gaze was undeniable, an unspoken fire that filled the room, making it hard to breathe.

You were still panting, your body warm and buzzing from the performance and his unrelenting attention. The charged silence between you stretched, the air thick with unspoken tension and undeniable want.

Alhaitham didn’t speak immediately, but his eyes roamed over you, drinking in every inch of your flushed skin, every rise and fall of your chest. His expression was unreadable, but the way his gaze lingered on your lips, your trembling thighs, and the evidence of your pleasure told you everything you needed to know.

Alhaitham rose from the chair, his every step deliberate and commanding, his piercing teal eyes never leaving yours. Your breath hitched as he made his way to the bed, his presence suffocating in the most intoxicating way. Sitting on your knees, you felt exposed, your sheer garment clinging to your body, your peaked nipples and damp thighs betraying the desire coursing through you.

He stopped at the edge of the bed, letting one knee sink into the mattress, the slight dip drawing him closer to you. His hand reached out, firm and purposeful, tangling in your hair and cradling the back of your head. His touch was steady, yet it made butterflies erupt in your stomach, their wings frenzied and wild.

His face was so close, his warm breath brushing against your lips as he hovered, teasing, his intense gaze boring into yours. Every fibre of your being screamed for him to close the gap, to claim you. But still, he hesitated, his deep voice soft but commanding as he asked, “Are you sure?”

The care in his tone, the way he sought your consent even after all the lines you’d crossed together, made your heart swell and your throat tighten. You nodded, unable to find words, the lump of emotion and desire making it impossible.

That was all the confirmation he needed. His lips descended onto yours, warm and soft yet firm with purpose. They moved against yours with a deliberate slowness, coaxing you to match his rhythm. They felt like velvet, smooth and intoxicating, igniting sparks where they touched. He nipped lightly at your bottom lip, and the sharpness sent a shiver down your spine, your lips parting instinctively for him.

His tongue slid into your mouth, warm and wet, exploring with a slow dominance that made you whimper. The kiss deepened, your moans muffled against his lips as his other hand, large and steady, began to trail lightly down your stomach. The touch was featherlight but deliberate, leaving a path of tingling heat in its wake.

When his fingers pressed against your sensitive clit, your entire body jolted, a gasp slipping from your lips into his mouth. The pressure was just right, his movements slow and teasing, and you felt yourself melting under his touch, your body trembling as he controlled the pace. His lips never left yours, his kiss demanding and consuming, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

Alhaitham’s kisses began to trail downward, leaving a scorching path along your neck, each press of his lips making you arch into him. His hands were firm as they guided you to the edge of the bed, your legs already trembling in anticipation. He pulled away briefly, his eyes dark with intent, before stepping off the bed and kneeling in front of you.

The sight of him there—on his knees, between your parted thighs, his powerful frame so reverent yet commanding—sent a surge of heat through your body. His hands slid up your thighs, steady and warm, and he pried them further apart with gentle determination. The cool air kissed your damp core through the sheer fabric of your underwear, heightening the sensitivity already coursing through you.

Alhaitham’s teal eyes flicked up to meet yours, and the intensity in his gaze stole the breath from your lungs. His hands squeezed the plush of your hips as he leaned forward, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your wet, clothed centre. A broken moan slipped from your parted lips at the intimate contact, and your thighs trembled in his grasp.

He repeated the motion, the warmth of his lips against the soaked fabric sending jolts of pleasure through you. Then, with a deliberate slowness that was maddening, he pressed his tongue flat against your clothed slit, the pressure making your body jolt and a louder moan escape you.

His hands gripped your hips firmly as he tugged at the delicate strings of your underwear, letting them snap gently against your skin. The sharp sting mingled with your heightened sensitivity, and you cried out, the sound raw and needy. He did it again, smirking faintly at the way you gasped and squirmed beneath his touch, your body utterly at his mercy.

Finally, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and slid the garment down, his movements slow and deliberate as though savouring every moment. The cool air brushed against your bare skin, and the scent of your arousal hit him, making his cock throb painfully in his slacks.

He paused for a moment, staring at you as though mesmerized, his gaze heavy with lust and hunger. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice deep and husky, the words sending a shiver straight to your core.

Alhaitham’s fingers gripped tightly at the plush of your thighs, holding you steady as he leaned in closer, his lips mere inches from your glistening core. The heat of his breath ghosted over your slick folds, sending an involuntary shiver through your body. The anticipation alone had your chest rising and falling rapidly, your breaths shallow and uneven.

Then, his lips pressed gently against your slit, the softness of the touch contrasting with the desperate ache building inside you. A hitched moan spilled from your lips, your head tilting back as the sensation coursed through you. His tongue followed, parting your folds and sweeping a slow, deliberate path up your slit. The motion was unhurried yet thorough, his tongue mapping every inch of you as though savouring every taste.

When he reached your clit, he paused, his lips hovering over the sensitive nub. The first kiss he placed there was featherlight, a teasing brush of warmth that had your body arching towards him. Then, without warning, he sucked, the pressure sending a wave of electric pleasure crashing through you. A cry tore from your throat, raw and uncontrolled, as your toes curled and your thighs instinctively clamped around his head.

Alhaitham didn’t falter. His large hands slid to your thighs, prying them apart effortlessly, his strength leaving you utterly at his mercy. His tongue traced a path back down your slit, the wet muscle flicking and teasing before it dipped lower to circle your puckering entrance. He hesitated just long enough to have your body trembling in anticipation, and then he pressed his tongue against you, teasingly shallow at first before thrusting it deeper.

The sensation was maddening, his tongue delving into you with an intensity that had your thighs shaking around his head. Your hands, braced against the bed, gave out under the onslaught of pleasure, and you collapsed back against the mattress. Alhaitham followed the shift in your position, one hand firm against your thigh to keep your legs open as his other hand steadied your hips.

Your foot scraped against his back as your body writhed beneath him, your senses overwhelmed by the relentless rhythm of his tongue. The wet sounds of his mouth, the faint scrape of his stubble against your sensitive skin, and the way he held you firmly in place made it impossible to think of anything but him.

He groaned low in his throat, the vibrations resonating through your core as he thrust his tongue deeper, as if determined to consume every bit of you. Your vision blurred as your pleasure climbed higher, white-hot heat building low in your abdomen and spreading like fire through your veins.

Your world narrowed to the sensation of him—his mouth, his hands, his sheer presence consuming you entirely. You were weightless, lost, your body trembling as he pushed you closer to the edge with every stroke of his tongue.

Alhaitham’s eyes met yours, piercing and unwavering, a molten shade of teal that seemed to burn with both intensity and control. His gaze locked onto you as if he was reading every shudder, every tremor of your body. It was impossible to look away, even as you felt the warmth of his tongue tracing along your folds, his lips parting just enough to press firmly against your dripping entrance.

Your breath hitched as his tongue pressed into you, a deep, deliberate stroke that made your thighs tremble against his strong grip. The world seemed to narrow, every sensation amplifying as his tongue worked with precision and purpose. Then, without warning, he thrust his tongue deeper, and your body jolted as a powerful surge of pleasure overcame you.

A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body betrayed you, the overwhelming pleasure forcing you to release. Warm liquid gushed from you in uncontrollable pulses, your body trembling violently as the wave of ecstasy crashed over you. The sound of it—wet and primal—filled the room, mingling with your laboured moans and the soft groans Alhaitham made as he held you steady.

Mortification crept in as the haze of pleasure started to lift, your cheeks flushing as you realised what had happened. “I-I’m sorry,” you stammered, trying to push away, but Alhaitham’s grip only tightened. His firm hands kept your hips pinned against the edge of the bed, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Don’t,” he murmured against your skin, his deep voice vibrating through you. His lips were still pressed to you, his tongue sliding out to lap at the evidence of your release with slow, deliberate strokes. The way his mouth moved against you sent another ripple of pleasure coursing through your body, making you gasp and shudder.

Alhaitham didn’t falter, his tongue continuing its ministrations as if he was savouring every drop. His eyes, now dark and hooded, bore into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. You couldn’t look away, mesmerised by the sight of him—so composed, yet so utterly consumed by you.

Your body writhed beneath his touch; every nerve alight as he guided you through the aftershocks of your high. His hands caressed your trembling thighs, grounding you even as his mouth refused to let you go. There was no judgement in his gaze, no hesitation—only raw desire and a determination to coax every ounce of pleasure from you.

When the tremors finally subsided, and your breathing slowed, Alhaitham pulled back just enough to press a kiss to your inner thigh, his lips curved in a faint smirk. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, sending a shiver down your spine.

Alhaitham leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as he moved to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His lips pressed firmly there, the warmth of his mouth followed by a teasing flick of his tongue that made your body tense with anticipation. When his teeth grazed your skin, your breath hitched, and then he bit down softly, sucking deeply to leave a mark. The sensation was a delicious mix of sharp and soothing as he licked over the spot, his tongue easing the sting while his lips claimed the area.

"Couldn’t resist," he murmured, his voice a low growl. His teal eyes lifted to meet yours, dark with desire and satisfaction as he admired the mark he’d left behind. "You look even more tempting with my marks on you."

Before you could respond, he began trailing kisses up your body, his lips brushing softly over your stomach, each press of his mouth sending sparks along your skin. His hands slid beneath you, lifting you slightly as he pushed you higher onto the bed, his strength making you feel light in his hold.

Alhaitham's hands slid up your sides, his fingers tracing the delicate lace of your bra. His teal eyes, darkened with hunger, met yours as he hooked a finger under the strap and tugged it down your shoulder with a deliberate slowness that made your breath hitch.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent as his other hand reached behind you to unhook the clasp. The tension snapped with a soft click, and the fabric fell loose, barely clinging to your chest.

With a practiced ease, he slipped the bra off and tossed it aside, his gaze immediately dropping to your bare skin. A soft groan escaped him as he took in the sight.

His warm hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples, the gentle touch drawing a sharp gasp from you. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above your skin. “Been wanting to see you like this, beneath me.” he whispered before he dipped his head and captured your nipple in his mouth, his tongue teasing the sensitive peak as his hands squeezed you firmly.

As he moved, he let his lips linger beneath the swell of your breast, the tender skin there making you shiver under his touch. He kissed deeply, the heat of his mouth igniting a new wave of desire, before he sucked hard, pulling another moan from your lips as he left another hickey, darker and more prominent than the last.

"Couldn’t stop thinking about this," Alhaitham confessed against your skin, his voice gravelly and filled with hunger. "How soft you’d feel, how perfect you’d taste."

His mouth moved higher, capturing your nipple in a heated kiss. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud before his lips closed over it, sucking gently at first, then harder, drawing gasps and whimpers from you. His other hand moved to your other breast, his fingers rolling and tugging at your nipple, mirroring the attention his mouth gave.

Your back arched, pressing more of yourself into him, and your fingers tangled in his silver hair, tugging softly. The small pull made his eyes flutter shut, and a soft groan rumbled from his chest. "You’re perfect," he murmured against your skin, his voice muffled but dripping with reverence. "Been wanting to feel you like this, to hear those sounds you make... in person, more real."

His thigh pressed between your legs, the firm, clothed muscle grinding against your slick folds. The friction sent a jolt of pleasure through you, making you gasp as your hips bucked against him instinctively. "That’s it," he groaned, his voice rough and low. "Let me feel how much you want me. Don’t hold back."

Your hands tightened in his hair as he alternated between teasing flicks of his tongue and firm sucks to your nipple, the combination making your head spin. The weight of his body above you, the heat of his thigh pressing against your sensitive clit, and the way his cock throbbed against your thigh through his slacks—it was overwhelming in the best way.

"Been wondering," he continued, his voice dark and filled with desire, "how you’d taste, how these perfect tits would feel in my hands, in my mouth. Better than I could’ve imagined."

Every word sent shivers through you, heightening your arousal as his thigh moved in slow, deliberate circles against you. The pressure built steadily, and you couldn’t stop the soft, desperate moans escaping you as his lips continued their assault on your breast.

Alhaitham’s lips trailed from your breast to your neck, his movements slow and deliberate as he pressed soft kisses into your skin. Occasionally, he let his teeth graze your flesh, leaving faint marks that bloomed into a symphony of pretty hues upon your neck. His warm breath fanned over the sensitive area, making your pulse quicken.

Your fingers, trembling with both impatience and desire, fumbled at the buttons of his shirt. Between soft whimpers and gasps, you pouted, “Why haven’t you taken this off yet?”

A low chuckle escaped him, deep and resonant, as he leaned down to place a tender kiss on your cheek. “Impatient, are we?” he teased, his tone laced with amusement. Without breaking his smouldering eye contact, he reached up and shrugged off his shirt, tossing it aside carelessly.

The sight before you made your breath hitch. His body was a masterpiece—broad shoulders, a sculpted chest with a light dusting of hair, and defined muscles that rippled with every subtle movement. His abs were carved and precise, his V-line disappearing tantalisingly into the waistband of his slacks. Your thighs clenched instinctively, a rush of heat pooling between them as your core fluttered, slick with arousal.

He moved to unbuckle his slacks, the anticipation crackling in the air. He let the fabric fall to the floor, revealing a pair of fitted black boxer briefs that hugged him perfectly, emphasising every detail of his powerful thighs and the prominent bulge straining against the fabric.

When he finally slid the briefs down, your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes trailed over his defined torso, following the tantalising path of his V-line until they reached his cock. Even though you had seen him earlier, the sight still made your heart race and your body ache with need. The thick, veiny length stood proud, the bulbous tip red and glistening with precum, making it look both imposing and utterly irresistible, you could still feel the shape of it down your throat.

Alhaitham smirked at your reaction, his confidence unshaken as he leaned forward, caging your trembling body beneath his. “You’re staring,” he teased softly before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his firm body pressing against yours, igniting a fire that burned through every nerve in your body.

Your moans spilled into his mouth as Alhaitham deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a passionate, intimate dance. His large hand cupped your breast, kneading it gently but firmly, his thumb brushing teasing circles over your hardened nipple. The kiss broke with a soft gasp, a delicate string of saliva connecting your swollen lips.

Your eyes, wide and dazed, gazed up at him with such tenderness and desire that it made his chest tighten. You leaned forward, trailing featherlight kisses along the strong column of his neck, your lips brushing against his pulse point before moving to the space between his shoulder and neck. Each touch sent tremors through his body, and a low groan escaped his throat, rumbling deep and primal.

Your hands wandered down his torso, fingers ghosting over his broad chest and rippling abs, your touch leaving a blazing trail of heat in its wake. His muscles tensed and flexed beneath your palms, responding to your exploration. When your fingers brushed over his nipples, his breath hitched, and his eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment, a low hum of pleasure vibrating in his chest.

Your hands slid further down, encircling his back as you pulled him closer, your bare bodies pressing together with electrifying intimacy. The motion caused the tip of his cock to brush against your slick folds, the velvety warmth of your wetness immediately wrapping around him. His thick length nestled perfectly against your clit, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through both of you.

Alhaitham released a choked moan, his forehead dropping to rest against yours as the sensation of your heat overwhelmed him. His hips instinctively shifted, grinding ever so slightly against you, the pressure intensifying the ache between your thighs. “You’re… dangerous,” he murmured, his voice husky and strained, his self-control hanging by a thread.

You trembled beneath him, the intimate contact sending waves of heat cascading through your body. Your lips parted to speak, but all that came out was a soft, needy whimper as your bodies continued to tease and tempt one another in this excruciatingly sweet agony.

His cock slid against you, thick and hot, slipping through the wet mess between your thighs. Every movement sent sparks up your spine, but he was holding back—trembling with restraint, breath unsteady, eyes locked on where your bodies met.

“Wait,” he muttered, voice breaking like a man on the edge. “I don’t have anything—no condom—” You reached for him, cupping his jaw, your thumb brushing the edge of his lower lip. “It’s okay,” you breathed. “I’m on the pill.”

His gaze snapped to yours, like your words had cracked something wide open in him. You felt him shudder, a sound dragging out of his chest that was half-relief, half hunger. The thought of spilling his warm cum inside you, marking you made his body shudder and his gaze intense on you.

“I need to be inside you,” he whispered—like it hurt to admit. “I need to feel you. Just you.”

His larg hands squeezed your hips in reassurance, his one hand holding your hip in place while his other guided his leaking, throbbing cock to align with your fluttering hole, the head of his cock nudged into your warm, hole, tempting him to shove his entire cock into your warm, sticky cunt- he restrained himself, opting to enter you gently, so that he could memerize the feeling of entering your pussy for the first time. He was splitting you open with reverence and desperation in equal measure, your breath hitched as he filled you, inch by aching inch, the stretch stealing every thought from your mind. Your cunt squeezing him tightly, you could feel his precum leaking into you as your arms cling onto him tightly and he finally bottomed into you, he was in you till the hilt as you moaned from the feeling of thick cock.

Your bodies are fully joined, you felt completely full- you could feel every twitch and throb of his cock, your cunt fluttering around him.

“God—” he choked. “You feel like you were made for me.” You clung to him, legs wrapping around his hips, arms around his shoulders, anchoring him. Anchoring you.

He started to move. Not gentle, not measured—but with purpose. With need. His hips met yours in steady, grounding thrusts, every motion thick with tension, each one deeper than the last. His cock coming till the tip just for him to slam into you, hard. Your bodies moved in tandem, like waves finding the shore after a long storm.

His lips brushed your temple, your cheek, your mouth—fevered kisses, half-formed words lost in the spaces between. Your moans melted into his sighs; gasps tangled in the hush of skin meeting skin.

And then, his voice—low, hoarse, barely human.

 “I keep thinking about it. How I’m inside you. Raw. How I can come in you, and there’s nothing stopping it. Just you—taking it. Letting me give you everything.”

You whimpered, your body clenching around him, answering a call neither of you could speak aloud. You drag your nails along his back, his rhythm faltered, his control slipping. As he holds your hips tightly, the sound of your juices mixing together and skin slapping against each other echoed throughout the room tangling with his groans and your moans.

“I want to fill you,” he groaned, his turquoise eyes staring deeply into yours, his forehead pressed against yours as his breath brushed against your swollen lips. “Want to stay buried in you and never leave. Want to see my cum leaking out when I’m done.” He says, this making your toes curl as he hits a certain spot in you causing a loud moan to leave from your parted lips, your back arching off the bed, your pert nipples pressing into his chest. He noticed this and started thrusting harder in that spot watching as you become a babbling mess, drool slipping out from your mouth, your face flashed red.

“professor, professor-” you moaned out in eustacy, Alhaitham groaned when you had said that his mouth trailing kisses from cheek to your neck as he licks a spot before biting down hard on your neck and slamming hard into your g-spot.

The tension in your tummy snapped, your eyes widening as they roll back, the word’ professor’ tumbling out of your mouth numerous times as your orgasm stole your breath, took your voice, dragged you into light. You shattered, clutching him tight, your body gripping him like you never wanted to let go. Alhaitham groaned as your warm wetness that made your hole sticky, your cum messing his pelvis as he thrusted faster into you as you laid beneath him in a dazed state still murmuring professor – fucked out.

“I’m going to give you every single drop of my cum, mark your insides white with my cum” he grabs a fist full of your, his eyes staring into yours flickering from your eyes to your lips and to the mess between the two of you as he moans, his teeth now nipping at your ear as you squeezed around him and moaned. “ be a good girl and let your professor cum in you ? yeah?” you cried out a yes as he started to thrust into you extremely fast, with a ragged gasp, burying himself deep, hips pressed flush as he comes to a still -  he spilled inside you. Hot, pulsing, endlessly into your womb.

His skin damp with sweat as your mouth hung open wide, thick tears rolling down your cheeks as you squeezed him tightly, the warm feeling of his cum entering you made your toes curl as another orgasm ripped through your spent pussy, your cries echoing throughout the room as you clung to him.

His breath was still ragged as he came down from his high, body trembling above yours. But even with his release still warm inside you, even with your walls fluttering in the aftermath, he couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not when your body clung to him so sweetly, when your warmth still pulsed around his softening cock like it didn’t want to let him go.

He needed you to cum again on his cock.

He kissed you—slow, tender kisses dragged across your lips, your jaw, your temple—as if to soothe the overstimulation, to ground you again. But you whimpered softly against his mouth, hips twitching as he began to roll them forward again, lazily at first, letting himself harden once more inside you.

“Alhaitham,” you breathed, voice trembling. “I’m… I’m sensitive.”

“I know,” he whispered, brushing your hair back as he peppered kisses along your cheek. “I know, sweet girl. Just one more time. Let me.” His hands slid down to your hips, strong and sure as he held you in place. He moved with more control now, patient and hungry all at once, grinding slowly into your oversensitive core until you whimpered beneath him, thighs quivering from the overstimulation.

Then, without a word, he withdrew—only to flip you gently onto your stomach.

The shift made your breath hitch, your cheek pressing into the soft sheets as he guided you up on all fours with a steady hand on your lower back. He knelt behind you, eyes devouring the slick trail out of your puffy cunt, his own release trickling from between your thighs. Your ass perfectly perched in front of him, your cunt twitching as he groaned at the sight.

“Look at this mess,” he murmured, thumbing at your cunt, watching it flutter around nothing. “And you’re still so wet.”

You whimpered, your hips jerking as he lined himself up again, and this time, he pushed in slowly from behind, dragging every thick inch along your stretched walls. The new angle made your arms tremble—so deep it stole the air from your lungs.

Your fingers clenched the sheets. He was already buried to the hilt, already overwhelming. But then his grip on your hips tightened—and he began to move.

Harder this time.

His thighs smacked against yours, his rhythm relentless, fucking into you with deep, purposeful thrusts that had you gasping with every stroke. You collapsed forward onto your elbows, unable to hold yourself up as your body gave out from the intensity. But he followed—his chest pressed along your back, his arms sliding around you to cage you in, to keep you still as he pounded into you from behind.

Your face was turned into the mattress, mouth open in a silent moan as his cock slid in and out of your soaked cunt with a filthy, wet sound. You were overstimulated, trembling, but you couldn’t stop—couldn’t stop the way your hips arched back into his, the way you sobbed his name between incoherent blabbering gasps.

“Please—Alhaitham, it’s—too much—ah—” your voice broke into a cry, tears prickling in your eyes from the sheer intensity of it.

But he kissed your shoulder, groaning as your walls clenched tight around him again.

“I know, baby. I know. Just a little more, be a good girl for your professor” he rasped into your skin, voice almost reverent. “You’re taking me so well. So, fucking good for me.”

You were losing yourself. His cock rubbed against every sweet spot inside you, over and over, making your vision blur, your thoughts dissolve. All you could do was cry out his name, your hands fisting the sheets as he fucked you through the overwhelming pleasure, chasing another release you hadn’t even realized you were building toward.

And through it all, he held you tight—pressed flush to your back, fucking you deep and hard like he wanted to leave a part of himself inside you forever.

Your body trembled beneath him, muscles taut and overstimulated, but Alhaitham wasn’t slowing down. His thrusts had grown rougher, deeper guided by instinct, by the primal need to leave every inch of himself inside you. You were utterly at his mercy, your moans broken and high-pitched, caught somewhere between pleasure and desperation.

Your walls clenched wildly around him, fluttering with every thick drag of his cock, and he could feel it—how close you were, how your body was winding tighter and tighter, teetering on the edge of something overwhelming.

He leaned forward, breath hot against your neck as he groaned, “You’re going to come again, aren’t you?” You could only whimper in response, voice caught in your throat, your mind hazy from the sheer stimulation.

“Fuck—this pussy was made for me,” he growled low in your ear. “So tight, so warm.  Gonna milk every drop out of me, aren’t you?” His hand slipped down your stomach, finding your clit with practiced ease, rubbing tight, perfect circles in rhythm with his thrusts. The touch sent you over—your body locked up, back arching, and a broken, desperate cry tore from your throat as your orgasm hit you like a crashing wave. You spasmed around him, pulsing so hard that it nearly forced him out of you, your legs shaking uncontrollably.

“Ah—fuck,” he gasped, gritting his teeth as your walls gripped him like a vice. “Just like that, miss bunny… just like that.” With one last, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt and came—hot and thick and endless. His cock throbbed as he spilled into you, every drop of his cum pouring into your twitching, fluttering cunt. He groaned low in his throat, hips grinding against your ass, as if he could push it deeper, keep it there inside you forever.

He stayed there for a moment, breathing hard, his chest rising and falling against your back. Then, slowly, he pulled out—and watched. His cum spilled from your swollen pussy in slow, glistening rivulets, and the sight nearly made him hard again. He watched the way you clenched and shuddered, as if trying to hold it in, and a deep, primal satisfaction flared in his chest.

“Fuck,” he muttered, thumbing at your folds, watching his seed drip from you. “You look so good like this. Stuffed full of me.”  A darker thought crossed his mind—how beautiful you’d look covered in his cum, painted in thick streaks across your back, your thighs, your pretty lips. But that was for another time. Another night.

Instead, he leaned down and kissed you—slow, deep, reverent. His tongue brushed against yours, warm and gentle now, the urgency faded into something deeper. Something tender. His fingers stroked your sides, tracing every inch of you like he never wanted to forget the feel.

When he pulled back, your lips were red, kissed raw, your eyes still hazy.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, brushing your hair back, lips brushing your temple. “Every last inch of you.” And in that moment, with his warmth still inside you and his mouth still lingering against your skin, it felt like the truth.

The room still pulsed with the aftermath of what you’d shared, but Alhaitham was already moving, already thinking of you. He rose without a word, padded across the room, and returned with a warm cloth again. You barely flinched when it touched between your thighs—his hands were slow, mindful, reverent, and his eyes never left your face.

He kissed the inside of your knee once he was done, and then whispered, “Come on. Let me take care of you.” The bathroom light was dim, the tub already filling when you followed him in. He tested the temperature with his hand, then helped you in first, easing you down into the steaming water with that same quiet patience. The warmth cradled your sore muscles, the scent of soap and something faintly floral curling in the air.

Then he joined you—settling in behind, arms encircling your waist, his chest firm and warm against your back. Your head found his shoulder without thought. His cheek rested against your temple.

For a long while, you didn’t speak. The only sounds were the gentle ripple of water and the echo of your slowed breathing. Eventually, his fingers found yours beneath the surface, weaving them together.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” he murmured into your hair.

You smiled, lips curving against his skin. “And yet… I don’t regret a single part of it.”

He was quiet again, but his arms tightened around you just a little, like he’d needed to hear that more than he realized.

“You feel… real,” he finally said. “Not just a face on a screen. Not just my student. You’re… more.”

You tilted your head back to look up at him. His eyes were soft now, stripped of all his usual restraint. You reached up to brush your fingers along his jaw.

“And you’re not just my favourite viewer anymore.”

That earned a rare smile, and he leaned down to kiss you—slow and unhurried, like there was no longer any need to rush.

When he pulled back, your head found his chest again, the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek. The water sloshed gently around you, and the world felt far away.

For tonight, there was nothing else. Just the warmth of his arms, the weight of something unspoken settling between you both, and the comfort of finally being seen—not through a screen, but through the eyes of someone who wanted to know you, every part of you.

And maybe that was enough. Or maybe it was just the beginning.

-Usagii’s Note

OH. MY. GOD. It’s DONE. This fic has been sitting on my chest like a whole demon for months, and now I can finally breathe. Writing this was a journey—messy, chaotic, a little unhinged—but I’m so proud of how it turned out in the end.

Huge love to everyone who read, liked, commented, screamed, or just quietly supported me through this fic. You’re the real MVPs.

This is the final chapter of Blurred lines - Professor Alhaitham x Cam Girl Reader. We’re closing the door, turning off the camera, and moving on. I’m not coming back to this one, so if you’ve been along for the ride, THANK YOU. Truly.

But don’t worry—I’m not disappearing. My next work? Let’s just say it’s Alhaitham x bunny girl reader, enemies-to- friends- lovers with reader getting her heat and she has to share a room with haitham (one bed trope, my favv. Does anyone else like it ? hehehehe).

Anyways, I write smut, fluff, and the occasional brainrot, so check out my other works if you’re in the mood for more chaos.

Byeeee~

OH ALSO I KNOW HE BE TIPPING YOU SO DAMN HIGH OKAY ?! I DONT CARE AINT NO WAY IMMA PUT THERE HE TIPPED YOU 10$ i mean gurl you are so hawt you deserve billions JHWJHEJKDW okay i shall leave fr

Meet my sweet little bun, Panda!! He’s my BBY🐰🐇🐼🥰🐰

OMG THIS IS THE CUTEST LIL FUR BABY IVE EVER SEEN , HE SO FLUFFY I WANNA HUG HIM awww 😭❤️❤️ I love his name 🥺❤️

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄ᯓᡣ𐭩ᝰ.ᐟ

𝗁𝗂𝗂..𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾 𝗎𝗌𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗂 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂 ᯓᡣ𐭩ᝰ.ᐟ 𝗍𝗐𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗒 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗈𝗅𝖽 ᵎᵎ ノ𝗌𝗁𝖾 / 𝗁𝖾𝗋. ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა 𝗂 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀..𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗇𝗄𝖺𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗅..𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗑𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗈𝗇 ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎୭ 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗂𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗁𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗆 ‹𝟹 𝖺𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀...𝖽𝖺𝗒𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋... 𝗂 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝖻𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗍𝗈𝗒𝗌 𖹭 (╥﹏╥)

𝐄𝐗𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑. jing yuan x fem foxian! reader (nsfw).

In which Jing Yuan, a man renowned for his unwavering control and discipline, finds that resolve unraveling in your presence — your every move, every glance, every touch igniting a fire within him he can no longer contain discovering an intoxicating solace in the sensual art of your dance, each sway of your hips pulling him deeper into an obsession he cannot, and will not, resist.

word count : 12k (12k words of edging)

warnings: explicit sexual content includes detailed descriptions of sexual acts (fingering, oral—f receiving, dry humping, thigh riding, implied future penetration), obssesed jing yuan, possessive jing yuan, slight power imbalance implied, erotic dancing/ adult entertainment , sensory overload, marking.

minors are NOT to read this story. If you are uncomfortable with detailed sexual content or themes of dominance and obsession, this is not the story for you. please proceed responsibly and at your own discretion.

DO NOT REUPLOUD OR CLAIM my work as yours. i have taken a lot of time to write this and it would be very disheartening to see someone claim something i took so long to write and craft.

anways, please do enjoy and leave a comment :3 reblogs, likes and follows are high appreciated

— usagii-bun <3

The moon hung high, casting a silvery glow over the quiet, cobblestone streets of Aurum Alley. It was a place where the night whispered its secrets, and the air, thick with the heavy scent of incense and mystery, carried tales only the privileged knew. Tucked away behind a discreet set of bamboo doors was the establishment—a brothel veiled in silence but brimming with the hum of indulgence. Even a general like Jing Yuan, weighed down by the armour of responsibility, found solace in the allure of its hidden embrace.

His feet moved almost of their own accord as he made his way to the entrance. Tired eyes, burdened by countless battles and endless politics, sought release in the only way he knew how—a brief escape from the turmoil of his mind. The soft click of his boots echoed, barely audible against the gentle wind that danced through the alley. And there, the door opened, not by his hand, but by a woman’s, poised and serene.

The Foxian lady who greeted him stood in the doorway like an ethereal figure, her beauty transcending time. Her skin was porcelain, her long, raven-black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall, framed by the glow of lanterns. Dressed in silk, her robes shimmered in shades of crimson and gold, the fabric clinging to her form in ways both graceful and alluring. She held herself with an air of elegance, her fox ears twitching lightly with every movement, her tail curling behind her in soft, languid strokes. She was an embodiment of allure, wrapped in silk and mysteries, every inch a vision of untold desires.

"Welcome, General Jing Yuan," she said, her voice smooth as velvet, respectful yet laden with something deeper, something more intoxicating. "Please, allow me to show you the wonders within."

With a graceful gesture, she led him inside, and Jing Yuan, caught in the captivating pull of her presence, followed. The atmosphere shifted the moment he stepped over the threshold. The entrance was bathed in the soft glow of lotus lanterns, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The scent of incense—jasmine, sandalwood, and something sweeter—hung thick in the air, enveloping his senses like a warm blanket, clouding his thoughts and easing the tightness in his chest. The walls were adorned with delicate scrolls, ancient calligraphy curling like the wind in a lover’s embrace, telling tales of forgotten empires and lost passion. Red and gold adorned every corner, the hues rich like blood and treasure, a royal reminder of the power that pulsed through these hidden chambers.

The floors beneath him were smooth stone, cool and polished, reflecting the shimmering silk curtains that hung like veils, concealing whatever lay beyond. The gentle swish of the fabric was like a soft caress, a whisper of something forbidden. There were flowers everywhere—tiger lilies, peonies, and chrysanthemums—arranged in intricate vases, their fragrant petals drifting lazily in the air, mixing with the incense to create a heady perfume that seemed to linger in his very breath.

As they moved deeper into the establishment, the general’s eyes took in the sight around him. Men and women, dressed in delicate silk robes of every colour imaginable, wandered freely, mingling with one another. The silk shimmered in the candlelight, revealing glimpses of soft skin and delicate features. Women draped themselves over men, while men held women in their arms with equal parts reverence and longing. The air was thick with the hum of quiet conversation, with laughter and sighs mingling in a sweet symphony that seemed to be playing just for those fortunate enough to be here.

"Come," the Foxian lady said softly, leading him up a staircase adorned with red and gold lanterns. "If you wish, you may enjoy performance privately upstairs."

Her eyes, sparkling like the night stars, hinted at something playful, something dangerous. Jing Yuan, ever the composed general, only nodded, his lips curling slightly at the invitation.

The night stretched out before you, the rhythmic beat of the music setting the pace for the dance that would soon unfold. Your heartbeat in time with the soft melody, the flickering candlelight reflecting off your skin as you prepared to enter the stage. The room below you were full of people—men, women, all draped in delicate silks, moving among each other in whispered conversations and soft laughter. The atmosphere was intoxicating, thick with the scent of incense and roses, the air so rich with desire it nearly hummed.

Tonight, you were not just a dancer; you were a vision, a creature of silk and allure, meant to captivate every gaze that fell upon you. You had practiced this for hours, days, months—the art of seduction through movement. As you slowly ascended onto the stage, the soft rustle of your costume, the shimmer of the golden jewellery adorning your body, set the tone for the entrancing spectacle to come. Your tail swayed behind you, brushing against the floor like a soft whisper, your ears twitching with the anticipation of the performance to come.

The room quieted, the hushed murmurs dying down as you took your first step into the spotlight. The soft glow of lotus lanterns, their flames flickering in the dim room, bathed you in an amber hue. Your body moved, fluid and graceful, as if the music itself was a part of you, guiding your every step. You could feel the eyes of the room on you—every gaze fixated; each breath held in anticipation of your every move.

From the elevated room above, General Jing Yuan watched. The scene below him was nothing new—he had seen these kinds of performances before—but this time, something was different. As you danced, his attention was drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. There was something in your movement that was unlike the others. The grace with which you moved, the way your body seemed to flow effortlessly with the music, drew him in. It wasn’t just your physical beauty, though you were undeniably stunning—every curve, every movement was perfection—but something deeper, something intangible. It was the essence you exuded—the confidence, the strength, the raw magnetism that seemed to pull him closer despite the distance between you.

Your movements were slow, deliberate. Your arms flowed through the air, a soft trace of elegance, while your hips swayed in time with the rhythm of the instruments, your skin glowing in the soft light. Each step you took was an invitation, each flick of your wrist a silent promise, each roll of your hips a beckoning. It was erotic without being crude, sensual without losing its grace. You were a goddess in motion, a creature born to captivate and beguile.

As you moved, your eyes flicked upwards, meeting his gaze for just a moment. It was a brief connection—one that he felt more than he could explain. His breath caught in his throat as your gaze locked with his, your eyes filled with an emotion that seemed to pull him in, deeper than he ever expected to go. The flicker of awareness between you made his chest tighten, and his pulse quickened. It was like you knew exactly what effect you were having on him, like you could feel his gaze following every step, every motion.

Your body twisted and arched as you danced, the silk of your costume brushing over your skin like a soft caress. The jewellery you wore—delicate chains, pearls, and golden rings—clinked softly with every movement, drawing attention to the curves of your body. The air was thick with the scent of jasmine and sandalwood, intoxicating and heavy, as your tail swished behind you, swaying in perfect rhythm with your every move.

Jing Yuan, sitting in his private alcove, could barely tear his eyes away from you. He felt an inexplicable pull, a hunger that wasn’t just for your physical form, but for the energy you radiated. It was raw and untamed, a force he couldn’t quite explain, yet he felt it in every fibre of his being. His hands clenched at his sides as the tension built in his chest, a wave of heat spreading through him. His body reacted against his will, betraying him as he watched you.

You were no longer just a dancer. You were the embodiment of something else—something deeper, more primal. You were pulling him into a world he hadn’t known he was even willing to enter, and for the first time in a long time, he felt something—something he hadn’t felt in years. The weight of his responsibilities, his title, the endless wars and battles that had marked his life, seemed to fade into the background. They no longer mattered.

The music picked up, becoming more intense, the tempo quickening. Your movements followed suit, each step becoming more deliberate, more daring. The room was alive with the heat of desire, the air crackling with tension. Jing Yuan’s breath caught in his throat, your body undulating in a way that was both art and allure. You were making a show of it—of him—and for the first time in a long time, it was his turn to be caught.

The music slowed, and you took your final step, the dance reaching its end. Your body twisted, swayed, and your movements grew more subtle, teasing. As the final note of the music played, the room fell into a hushed silence. Jing Yuan remained frozen, captivated by your performance. His mind buzzed with a million thoughts, none of them clear, none of them rational. All he knew was that he needed to be closer to you, to taste whatever you were offering.

As the lights dimmed and the room came back to life with murmurs and applause, Jing Yuan finally found his voice. He leaned forward, his gaze never leaving you. “Can I… request her?” His words were barely above a whisper, filled with an urgency that surprised even him.

The Foxian lady, who had been watching with knowing eyes, nodded with a smile. "Of course, General Jing Yuan. She is yours for the evening."

The air inside the private alcove was thick with a sensual tension, the dim light casting soft shadows around the space. Jing Yuan sat back in a velvet-covered chair, his posture commanding yet relaxed. His mind was still reeling from the magnetic performance he'd witnessed, but now, as he sat alone in this private setting, the anticipation built again.

The door slid open, and the woman who had greeted him earlier entered, guiding you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. Jing Yuan could now get a better look of you, the lingerie delicately adorns your body, the jewels that were placed on you still twinkled and shimmered under the dull lighting. Your fox ears were perked, stiff with nerves, and your tail swayed ever so slightly behind you, betraying your inner restlessness.

Your gaze never met his. You kept your head low, your expression unreadable, as if you'd become a different person. This wasn’t the confident, playful woman who’d mesmerized him with her dance. This was someone subdued, cautious, and perhaps even a little fragile. Jing Yuan’s brow furrowed at the sight, and a pang of something unfamiliar stirred within him. There was an undeniable sadness at the change, a realization that you were a contradiction, both in the freedom you’d shown during your dance and the restraint you now carried.

The woman who led you whispered softly to you as she passed by, "Take care of the general." Her voice was gentle but firm, as if entrusting something delicate to your care. She gave Jing Yuan a final look, a knowing smile before exiting the room, leaving the two of you in silence.

You stood in front of him, head lowered, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. The air felt heavier now, the sense of being watched almost suffocating, yet you remained still, as though obeying some invisible rule.

Jing Yuan studied you for a moment, trying to piece together the shift in your demeanour. His mind, clouded with the memory of your dance, struggled to reconcile the two versions of you. His large, calloused fingers lifted from his side, brushing gently beneath your chin, his touch soft but insistent as he lifted your face to meet his.

"Why do you not make eye contact?" he asked, his voice low, his words smooth as they hung in the air. His gaze was intense, capturing you as he locked his eyes on yours. You could feel the weight of his stare, the depth of it, and it sent a flicker of something through you—surprise, confusion, maybe even fear.

You blinked rapidly, trying to avoid his gaze, but his touch lingered, a slight pressure against your chin. You quickly averted your eyes, your cheeks flushing at the intensity of his attention.

"It is not allowed," you murmured softly, the words barely escaping your lips. "I am not allowed to look at the customer unless... unless told to."

Jing Yuan’s expression softened, but his curiosity remained, his gaze never leaving you as you stood before him, silent and restrained. His fingers remained on your chin, though no longer pressing, just gently resting there. He tilted his head slightly, considering your words. He couldn't help but be intrigued by the contradiction you presented: the woman who captivated an entire room with her dance now so reserved, so obedient.

"You are allowed to look at me," he said, his voice almost playful, though the undertone of command was still present. "But for now, I will permit your discretion."

There was a quiet pause between you both, as you silently struggled with the unspoken tension that now swirled in the room. Jing Yuan leaned back, his large frame sinking into the chair as he relaxed, his eyes never leaving you. "Come, sit with me," he said, motioning to the empty seat beside him. "Let us share a drink."

His invitation hung in the air like a challenge, but it was delivered with a calm, measured tone. You hesitated for a moment, still unsure of how to act, still feeling the pressure of his gaze as he observed you carefully. Finally, you took a cautious step forward, your body moving with the grace of a fox, and sat at his side, careful not to brush too close against him.

The room was filled with the scent of incense and flowers, but the closeness between the two of you heightened the atmosphere, thickening the air. Jing Yuan poured two glasses of wine, his movements slow, deliberate. He handed one to you, his fingers brushing against yours, and for a brief moment, the touch felt more intimate than it should have.

"You have a beautiful presence," he said quietly, taking a sip of his own drink. "But I can see there is more to you than what you show. Tell me, what is it you desire, in a place like this?"

You remained silent, unsure of how to respond, but Jing Yuan didn’t rush you. His gaze held a quiet intensity, as if waiting for you to let down the walls you’d so carefully constructed around yourself. The tension between you both lingered, a palpable force, as your bodies sat close together yet distanced by invisible barriers. Your heartbeat faster, your breath shallow. This was new territory for both of you. And for Jing Yuan, it felt like the beginning of something far deeper than either of you had expected.

You shifted in your seat, thighs brushing together under the soft silk of your gown, the sensation sending a faint shiver through you. The air between you and Jing Yuan was thick, charged with an intensity you could neither name nor escape. His gaze was locked on you, and every question he asked felt like it was unravelling pieces of you.

"Why here?" he murmured, his voice smooth, like the finest silk. "A place like this—it doesn’t seem to match your spirit."

His words hung in the air, and you found yourself twisting the fabric of your gown again, seeking some kind of anchor. "It’s... complicated," you whispered, your eyes darting away from his. But the way he leaned closer—close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him—made it impossible to hide.

"Complicated," he echoed, his tone laced with curiosity, as though he wanted to peel back every layer of meaning behind your answer.

You glanced up at him, and your breath caught in your throat. His amber eyes glimmered in the dim light, soft but piercing, holding you captive in their gaze. And then, he leaned in further, the space between you shrinking until you could feel his presence, overwhelming and intoxicating.

The scent of him—clean and faintly spiced—mixed with the sweetness of the wine he sipped moments before. The aroma seemed to curl around you, tangling with your thoughts. His lips were so close now, and you couldn’t stop your gaze from flicking down to them.

"May I?" he asked, his voice a hushed murmur, and his eyes searched yours, waiting. It wasn’t a command, as you’d expect from a man like him, but a request, gentle yet brimming with restrained desire.

Your throat tightened, and you nodded slowly, words escaping you.

His hand came up, fingers grazing your cheek before curling under your chin, tilting your face toward his. The touch was warm, firm yet tender, sending sparks skittering along your skin. Slowly, achingly, he closed the distance.

When his lips met yours, the world fell away.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle brush of lips, testing, coaxing. But then, like a flame catching the wind, it deepened. His mouth moved against yours with a slow-burning passion, drawing you in, leaving no room for hesitation. You felt the firm press of his lips, the intoxicating heat of him, and your heart thundered in your chest.

His hand slid from your chin to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking the edge of your cheekbone. It was such a careful gesture, but the kiss was anything but. His tongue swept against the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you yielded, parting your lips for him.

When his tongue slid against yours, a low hum of pleasure escaped you, your hands clutching at the silken folds of your gown as if it could keep you grounded. He tasted of wine, rich and heady, and the faintest hint of something sweeter, something entirely him.

His other hand moved to your waist, fingers splaying across the delicate fabric that barely covered you. The pressure was light, a silent promise of what could come, and yet it was enough to make your pulse race, your body alight with sensations you couldn’t control.

You couldn’t help but respond, your hands tentatively brushing against his chest, feeling the solid strength beneath his robes. His lips moved with a practiced confidence, but there was something raw in the way he kissed you, like he was holding back a storm, giving you only a glimpse of the tempest that raged beneath.

When he finally pulled back, his lips hovered just a breath away, his forehead resting lightly against yours. Both of you were breathing heavily, your chest rising and falling in rhythm with his.

"You’re... mesmerizing," he murmured, his voice rough and low, as though the words had been dragged from somewhere deep within him.

You opened your eyes, and his gaze bore into yours, intense and unyielding. His thumb brushed against your swollen lips, and you could see the faint flush dusting his cheeks, a rare crack in his usual composure.

"I’ve wanted to do that," he admitted, his voice softer now, "since the moment I saw you."

Your heart raced, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him, the weight of his confession crashing over you like a wave. His touch lingered, his fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns against your skin, and you knew—this was only the beginning.

Jing Yuan’s hands were impossibly large, their warmth seeping through the sheer silk draped over your body as they slid down, slow and deliberate. His touch felt like a whispered promise, each fingertip tracing a path that left fire in its wake. You couldn’t help but shiver when his palms grazed the curve of your hips, his fingers splaying possessively over them as he was now on his knees between your thighs.

The silk clung to your skin like dew, yielding under his touch as his hands lingered, pressing into the plush softness of your thighs. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as though he wanted to savour every second, every inch of you that he claimed. His thumb stroked a languid circle against your skin, teasing the sensitive flesh just below the curve of your hip, and your breath hitched.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured, his voice a deep, velvety whisper that seemed to echo in the dim, scented air. His words held a teasing lilt, but his eyes were dark, heavy-lidded with something far deeper than amusement.

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of silk and the faint crackle of a distant candle. His hands moved lower, trailing down the sides of your thighs as if he were sculpting you from memory. He paused, his fingers flexing slightly, almost reverently, before sprawling over the fullness of your legs. The pressure was firm but not harsh, his touch grounding you even as it left you breathless.

Jing Yuan’s head tilted, his silver hair catching the dim light like threads of moonlight spun through shadow. He leaned closer, his breath ghosting over your skin, and his hands tightened their hold on you ever so slightly. The contrast of his strength and the tenderness in his touch made you feel both vulnerable and cherished, like a treasure he had no intention of letting slip away.

"You’re exquisite," he murmured, his voice soft yet weighted, as though the words carried a gravity only, he could understand. His thumbs traced upward, following the natural curve of your thighs, his hands mapping you with a deliberate slowness that felt like an exploration, a quiet devotion.

When his eyes flicked back to meet yours, his gaze was molten, heavy with desire yet tempered by something gentler, something that made your heart stutter in your chest. His hands stilled, settling like a question, a challenge, as if to ask how far you would let him go. And in that moment, you were weightless, caught in the intoxicating pull of him, the world beyond fading into nothingness.

Jing Yuan's fingers, warm and deliberate, slid down to the edge of your thigh highs, the lace soft under his touch. He let his fingertips dip beneath the delicate material, brushing against the bare skin beneath, sending shivers coursing through your body. The contrast of silk and skin was electrifying, his movements unhurried as though he had all the time in the world to explore.

Your breath hitched, and you gripped the silk of your gown, desperate for something to anchor yourself. The sensation of his hands so close, his strength tempered by the tender way he handled you, made your mind race. The General of the Luofu, a man revered for his authority and composure, was here, knelt before you, his hands on your thighs as though you were the centre of his universe.

His thumb traced lazy circles against your skin, the pressure both teasing and grounding. "You’re trembling again," he murmured, the teasing lilt of his voice sending a new wave of heat through you. His silver hair gleamed faintly in the soft, golden light, the contrast between his composed expression and the intimacy of his touch almost too much to bear.

Then, without warning, he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your thigh. It was a feather-light kiss, soft yet searing, and it stole the breath from your lungs. The warmth of his mouth lingered, a silent claim that left your heart pounding.

Your mind spiralled, the weight of the moment crashing over you like a tidal wave. This was the General—the General—his broad shoulders and imposing presence now knelt before you in an image that burned itself into your memory. The sight of him, his head bent, his lips on your skin, was something you knew you’d never forget.

Your pulse quickened as his hand slid higher, his palm pressing into the softness of your thigh with a deliberate slowness that made your body hum with awareness. He tilted his head slightly, his golden eyes flicking upward to meet yours, his gaze heavy with something that made your heart stutter.

"You’re beautiful like this," he murmured, his voice low and rich, the words wrapping around you like silk. His fingers flexed against your skin, and you swallowed hard, feeling as though the world had narrowed to just the two of you. The scent of incense, the warmth of the dimly lit room, and the weight of his attention made it impossible to think of anything else.

Your breath hitched as his lips lingered against your skin, so close yet unbearably distant. A soft whimper escaped you, unbidden, the sound trembling on your lips. "General..." The word was barely a whisper, carried more by instinct than thought, but it was enough.

Jing Yuan’s golden eyes gleamed at the sound, a primal intensity overtaking his usual calm. That composed facade he wore so effortlessly cracked, revealing something raw and untamed beneath. His lips curved into a slow, almost predatory smile, and you felt the heat of his gaze burn against your skin.

He leaned closer, his broad shoulders dipping as his face moved towards your clothed pussy, the faintest warmth of his breath ghosting over the flimsy material of it. The sensation was maddening, a tantalising promise that made your thighs tense under his hold.

Your ears twitched uncontrollably, betraying your spiralling emotions. You tried to steady them, but they betrayed you with every sharp intake of breath. Your tail curled and flicked at the edges of the plush cushions beneath you, the movement erratic, mirroring the storm building in your chest.

Jing Yuan noticed everything—of course, he did. His gaze flicked to your twitching ears, and the corner of his mouth quirked, a dark satisfaction dancing in his eyes. His hands remained steady, sprawling over the plush of your thighs, fingers pressing just enough to ground you while still making your skin tingle.

"You’re so responsive," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air. "It’s captivating."

The warmth of his breath fanned over the delicate fabric again, sending a shiver racing up your spine. He paused, his lips so close yet maddeningly still, his eyes watching every tremble, every twitch, every unsteady exhale. You felt utterly laid bare beneath his gaze, a mixture of vulnerability and desire tangling in a way that left you breathless.

"Tell me,” he said softly, the words a mere whisper against the heat of your skin. "Do you always react this beautifully... or is it just for me?"

Your entire body felt as though it had been set alight, the heat rushing from your cheeks to the very tips of your ears as Jing Yuan's lips hovered ever so teasingly over your cunt. The blush that painted your skin deepened, spreading like wildfire, your hands clutching the silken material beneath you in an effort to steady yourself.

And then, his lips pressed softly against your pussy—through the delicate fabric that barely served as a barrier. The kiss was unhurried yet deliberate, and the sensation made you gasp, your heart leaping into your throat. Your thighs quivered slightly beneath his strong, steady grip as your body betrayed the flood of emotions overtaking you.

Jing Yuan closed his eyes, the scent of you filling his senses as though nothing else in the world existed. Sweet and heady, with a potency that made his mind spiral, it was unlike anything he had imagined—and oh, had he imagined. His fingers curled slightly against your skin as if grounding himself from the overwhelming allure.

The sweetness of it mingled with something darker, more intoxicating, and utterly unique to you. It was pungent but not overpowering—an earthy, sensual fragrance that clung to the air around you and pulled him deeper into the haze you created.

His breaths grew heavier, his mind clouding as the scent wrapped around him like an invisible tether, binding him to you in a way that felt both maddening and necessary.

"Addictive," he murmured, his voice low and rough, the single word almost swallowed by the quiet intimacy of the room. His lips brushed against you once more, this time lingering a second longer, his tongue darting out briefly to taste the fabric.

A groan rumbled deep in his chest, and his grip on your thighs tightened ever so slightly, his composure slipping as he inhaled deeply again, utterly consumed by the fragrance of you. His golden eyes, now darkened with something primal and insatiable, flickered up to meet yours—a blush still staining your cheeks, your wide-eyed gaze unsure and yet filled with undeniable need.

Jing Yuan's tongue pressed firmly yet gently against the thin fabric, a deliberate movement that sent shockwaves coursing through your body. The sensation was unlike anything you had ever felt, the warmth and softness of his mouth combining with the teasing pressure to ignite every nerve in your skin. Your toes curled instinctively, the sheer intensity of the moment leaving you breathless, as though the air itself had thickened.

His large hands, splayed across your trembling thighs, gripped you tighter, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh in a way that left you aching for more. The contrast of his strength against your vulnerability only heightened the whirlwind of sensations overtaking you. He groaned softly, a deep, resonant sound that seemed to vibrate through you, as if he too was succumbing to the weight of his desires.

Jing Yuan’s gaze lifted, drinking in every detail of you. The flush that coloured your cheeks, spreading down your neck and disappearing beneath the thin fabric of your gown. The way strands of your hair had fallen loose, framing your face like a delicate painting. The rise and fall of your chest as your breath quickened, each exhale shaky and unsteady.

He felt an unrelenting need to unravel you, to witness you laid bare, in every sense of the word. His hands moved slightly, his thumbs brushing slow circles against your skin, grounding you and driving you to the edge all at once.

His tongue pressed against the fabric again, this time with more insistence, and his lips followed with a lingering kiss. The heat of his breath seeped through, and it felt as though he was marking you with each touch, his presence imprinted on your very soul.

“Do you feel it?” he asked softly, his golden eyes locking onto yours as his hands squeezed your thighs again. “The way I want to devour you—piece by piece—until there’s nothing left of this composure we’re pretending to hold on to?”

Jing Yuan's grip on your thigh loosened as he let his hand slip away, only to settle firmly on your shoulder. The weight of his touch grounded you, but the intensity in his golden gaze sent your mind spiralling into chaos. His other hand moved with a deliberate slowness, two fingers brushing against the fabric that separated him from you, as though he were savouring the act of uncovering you.

He pushed the fabric aside, exposing your glistening skin beneath. The air felt cool against the heat of your pussy, and the juxtaposition made you shiver. Your scent—intoxicating, sweet, and unmistakably you—filled the space between you, strong and pungent in a way that made his breath hitch. His eyes could not leave the sight of your cunt, your clit throbbing, clear liquid oozing from between your glistening folds as he glances at your face, lips swollen and eyes teary – a sight that made his cock leak.

His eyes darkened, a glimmer of something primal flickering in their depths as he took you in. You were fluttering, every part of you trembling in anticipation, and it made his lips curl into a faint, knowing smile.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and reverent, yet laced with raw hunger.

His hand tightened slightly on thigh, grounding you further, while his gaze remained fixed on you as though you were the most captivating sight he had ever encountered. The vulnerability in the moment only seemed to embolden him, and the way his breath fanned against your exposed skin made your thighs tremble under his hold.

Jing Yuan's tongue pressed against your clit, lapping up the sweetness that spilled from you with a deliberate, unrelenting pace. The warmth of his mouth against such a sensitive part of you was overwhelming, sending jolts of pleasure rippling through your body. His eyes, golden and intense, never strayed from your face, watching every twitch of your expression, every blush that spread across your cheeks, and every soft whimper that escaped your lips.

A low hum of approval resonated from him, vibrating against your core as he worked, his large hands gripping your thighs firmly to hold you in place. Each stroke of his tongue was purposeful, slow at first, then more insistent, as though he were a man on the brink of starvation, and you were the feast he'd been denied for far too long.

Your fingers clawed at the leather couch beneath you, the cool material a stark contrast to the heat building inside you. Your hips bucked slightly against his face, but his strong grip kept you steady, his mouth never faltering.

"General..." you whimpered softly, the word barely audibles through the haze of sensation.

At that, his eyes gleamed with a feral satisfaction, something primal and wild flickering within them. He groaned softly, the sound muffled as he devoured you, his tongue exploring every inch with unyielding hunger. The sight of him—so composed, so regal—reduced to this raw, unrestrained desire sent your mind spinning, leaving you trembling under his touch.

Jing Yuan's tongue dragged deliberately against your slick folds, his pace torturous yet intoxicating. Without a word, two of his thick fingers slid down, pressing against your entrance before sinking into you without warning. The stretch was immediate, a mix of pleasure and intensity that tore a loud whimper from your lips. Your body arched into his touch, thighs trembling uncontrollably as your breath hitched.

"General... General..." The title fell from your lips in a broken chant, each syllable a prayer as your mind spiralled. Nothing else existed beyond the overwhelming sensations he wrought upon your body—his tongue flicking expertly up and down your slick heat, his lips closing around the sensitive bud that made your vision blur.

His fingers curled inside you, finding that spot that made your entire body jolt. He pressed into it mercilessly, dragging a sob from your throat as your thighs quaked against his face. His other hand gripped your thigh tightly, holding you still as he worked with relentless precision.

The wet, obscene sounds of his tongue and fingers filled the air, mingling with your soft cries and whimpers. Your world narrowed to the molten heat pooling low in your belly, each flick of his tongue and curl of his fingers sending you closer to the edge.

He sucked on the swollen bundle of nerves, his tongue circling with maddening skill. You sobbed his name again, your thighs trembling, your body barely able to keep up with the intensity of his actions. Through the haze, you felt the curve of his lips against you—a smirk, as though he took pride in unravelling you completely.

Your vision blurred, tears threatening to spill as a tight knot in your stomach coiled and twisted unbearably. Each thrust of Jing Yuan's fingers pressed against that devastating spot inside you, sending shockwaves through your trembling frame. Your eyes rolled back, a broken cry escaping your lips as the tension snapped, pleasure washing over you like a tidal wave.

Your entire body quivered, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as the release tore through you, leaving you gasping and breathless. But Jing Yuan didn't stop. His fingers maintained their relentless rhythm, coaxing you through the aftershocks, prolonging every moment of your bliss.

You felt his warm tongue, soft yet firm, trailing along your folds as he licked up every drop of your release. His eyes, golden and piercing, never left your face. He seemed captivated by the way your lips parted, the flush painting your cheeks, the glazed look in your eyes.

"You're beautiful," he murmured softly, his voice thick with reverence and desire, the words vibrating against your sensitive skin as he placed a soft kiss against your fluttering clit. His gaze was heavy with pride and satisfaction, as though committing the sight of you undone to memory. He slowly moves up your body, Jing Yuan’s lips traced a delicate path up your neck, each soft kiss like a whispered secret against your skin. The air between you thickened with warmth, every subtle movement drawing you deeper into the moment. He paused just below your ear, his breath mingling with yours, before he reached out for the bottle of alcohol and took a slow, deliberate swig of the sweet alcohol. He placed the bottle down and he finally met your gaze, something unspoken passed between you.

With a gentle but firm pull, he lifted you, as if in a trance, and brought your lips to his. The kiss was tender at first, like a soft brush of silk, but then it deepened, becoming something slower, more languid. The sweet taste of the alcohol seeped into your mouth, dribbling out of the corner of your lip as you moaned when his tongue brushed against yours, the alcohol, sweet and intoxicating with the taste of your essences mingled between your tongues, each shared taste adding to the heat building between you. He tasted you and you tasted him, the kiss a slow, sensual exchange, each second stretching out as if the world outside ceased to exist.

You could feel the warmth of the alcohol in your veins, but it was nothing compared to the warmth that spread through your chest as his hands held you close, pulling you deeper into him. The kiss deepened, became more desperate, yet still slow—each movement deliberate, a beautiful rhythm of lips and tongue, a dance that belonged only to the two of you. Time seemed to stretch, the room fading away as you lost yourself in the sweetness of the moment, the alcohol, and the slow burn of his kiss.

Jing Yuan’s lips lingered against yours for a moment longer, his breath warm on your skin, before he slowly pulled away. His tongue tracing the bit of alcohol that dribbled out of your mouth, gaze intense and molten. The world seemed to pause for a heartbeat, leaving you suspended in the air between his touch and his gaze. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited, uncertain of what he might do next, but instead of drawing you back into his embrace, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, the gentle gesture so tender it made your breath catch in your throat.

He pulled away just enough to meet your eyes, and in that moment, there was a strange, knowing calm about him. “Thank you for the... meal,” he said, his voice low, smooth, and unhurried, as though savouring the taste of the drink, you and the moment.

His words hung in the air, unexpected and enigmatic. The meal? You blinked, a flush creeping up your neck, your heart fluttering in confusion. Was that truly all he wanted from you? Was it just a fleeting moment, a passing indulgence?

Your gaze dropped to his chest, your eyes tracing the contours of his form—strong, unwavering. His shirt clung to him in a way that made you acutely aware of the man standing before you. And then, your gaze caught something—he was...

Your breath caught, and your eyes snapped back up to his, meeting his with a quiet intensity that made your pulse quicken. But he only smiled softly, almost like he understood the storm brewing within you, before gently reaching up to pat your head, a small, affectionate gesture that sent a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against your hair, making your fox ears twitch involuntarily. The touch was so casual, yet somehow it deepened the flush that spread across your face, your heart racing at the intimacy of the moment. It was a small, almost teasing action, but it made you feel as though you were suddenly laid bare in front of him.

His smile softened, his eyes warm yet impossibly distant, as though he were saying goodbye without words. “I enjoyed your company,” he said, the weight of his words settling between you like an unspoken promise that felt both comforting and impossible to decipher. “I will be anticipating another dance soon, until than darling.” His voice smooth as honey, your face turning crimson at the word ‘darling’.

His gaze lingered on you for a beat longer, filled with a complexity you couldn't understand, before he turned and left the private area. The soft sound of his footsteps faded, but his presence remained, lingering in the air, as if he had never really left at all.

You stood there, the room suddenly feeling too large, too empty. ‘Did I do something wrong?’ The question echoed in your mind, drowning out the quiet hum of the space. He had seemed so... needy, as though there was something more. And yet, now he was gone, leaving you with nothing but his words and the warmth of his touch.

Why didn’t he want more? You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was left unfinished, the desire you felt mirrored in the air between you. Why had he stopped? Why hadn't he sought what you had both seemed to crave? It was as if your body had been aching for something deeper, and yet he had held back.

As the silence grew heavier, your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. The owner stepped inside; her voice sweet like honey but with an edge that sent a chill down your spine.

“You’re done for the night,” she said, her smile thin but knowing. “You can go home now.” Confusion clouded your thoughts. “But... I thought you only let me go after twelve?”

The owner’s smile grew, as though your question amused her. “I won’t be needing you until I call for you,” she replied, her tone light but filled with something more. A finality? You weren’t sure. The words left you unsettled, uncertain of what she truly meant.

She reached into her pocket and handed you something—a silky pouch. The weight of it felt strange in your hand. “Here’s your pay from the General,” she said, her voice dripping with a sort of satisfaction that you couldn't place. “You sure did make him happy.”

Your mind whirled. Made him happy? The words bounced in your skull, unanswered questions stirring within you like a storm. What had just happened? What had you been to him? The idea of him leaving with only that—just that—felt like a question mark lingering in the air. He had seemed so close, so wanting, and yet he left.

The thought of the lingering kiss, the sweet warmth of the alcohol shared between you both, made your chest ache. He had left with a soft smile, but you couldn't shake the sense of something unfinished, something unspoken. Had you misread the moment? As you looked down at the silky pouch, the weight of it felt more symbolic than ever. The pay was there, yes, but the ache, the unanswered longing in your chest—it was something deeper, something that the money couldn't soothe.

The owner’s grin widened as she stepped back, her eyes gleaming with that same knowing look. You were left with the pouch, your heart full of questions, but no answers.

Jing Yuan hadn’t been himself lately, and he knew it. No matter how many duties he fulfilled or how much paperwork he completed or the many sneaky naps he took, his thoughts consistently drifted back to you. He couldn’t erase the memory of your skin beneath his hands—soft and warm, the kind of touch that lingered even after parting. Nor could he forget the taste of you, intoxicating and sweet, or the way your body moved with such elegance and allure during your dances.

It had been nearly a month since Jing Yuan began seeking you out, yet with each encounter, his fascination deepened into an obsession. He couldn’t get enough of you—the way you moved, the sound of your voice, the way your presence filled the room and consumed his thoughts. After every performance, he would reward you in ways that left you trembling, his mouth devoutly working between your thighs, tongue lapping at every drop of your arousal as his fingers thrust deeply into your slick heat. Yet, he never allowed you to touch him, never let you return the favour. His pleasure came solely from your moans, the way your body responded to his touch, and the sight of your unravelling beneath him. He would grind against his own restraint, rutting against his pants, hard and aching, but never crossing the line. He wanted to wait for the perfect moment, the right time to claim you fully—a moment that would be as unforgettable as you were to him.

It wasn’t just your beauty that consumed him, though it had ensnared him first. It was the quiet calmness you exuded, a soft-spoken grace that contrasted so deeply with the fire of your movements. The way your tail swayed behind you, how your ears twitched in subtle reaction to the world around you—it was as if you were always caught between serenity and mischief. The thought of you was a constant hum in his mind, an ache he could not shake.

He found himself wandering the streets of the city more often now – much to Fu xuan dismissal, hoping to find distractions from you. Yet even his usual escapes held no relief. And today was no exception.

As he strolled through Aurum Alley, the faint clinking of porcelain caught his ear, drawing his attention to a small tea shop tucked into the corner. He stepped inside, the familiar scents of herbs and dried flowers wafting over him, soothing but unremarkable—until his eyes fell on you.

You were standing near the back, your head tilted slightly as you admired the display of teacups arranged on a low wooden shelf. The dim lantern light cast a golden glow over you, highlighting the soft fur of your ears and the elegant sweep of your tail swaying absently behind you. You were dressed in a delicate white dress, its

fabric light and airy, brushing against your knees with every movement. The dress was adorned with tiny floral embroidery, dainty and unassuming, much like the way you carried yourself.

Jing Yuan’s breath hitched. He hadn’t expected to see you here, not outside the confines of your world of silk and candlelight. Here, you looked softer, more natural, yet no less captivating. It was a sight that made his chest tighten, as if the universe had conspired to remind him that you were always just out of reach.

You seemed unaware of his presence, your attention wholly captured by a teacup you held delicately in your hands. It was a beautiful piece, adorned with intricate floral designs, vines curling around painted blossoms, the base glimmering faintly with gold. You turned it slowly in your fingers, your tail swishing with a faint, almost wistful rhythm.

The sight of you, so enraptured by something so simple, made his heart clench. And when you set the cup back down with a small, defeated sigh, it took all of his willpower not to close the distance between you immediately.

Instead, he lingered, watching as you hesitated, your fingers brushing against the rim of the cup one last time before you turned away. Jing Yuan didn’t need to guess why you’d left it behind—the soft downturn of your lips told him everything.

He stepped forward then, his presence a shadow that fell over you before his voice, low and smooth, broke the silence.

“Admiring something, are we?”

You startled, your ears twitching at the sound. Turning to face him, your eyes widened briefly before you quickly averted your gaze. “Oh, General,” you murmured, your hands clasping nervously in front of you. “I didn’t see you there.”

He allowed himself a small smile, though his golden eyes remained fixed on you. “It’s a charming shop, isn’t it? Something here seems to have caught your attention.”

You hesitated, glancing toward the shelf where the teacup sat. “It’s nothing,” you said softly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. “Just a pretty cup. I was… just admiring it.”

“Just admiring it?” Jing Yuan repeated, stepping closer, the faint scent of his cologne filling the space between you. “And yet, you look as though you’ve left a piece of your heart behind with it.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you shook your head. “It’s beautiful, but it’s not something I can…” You trailed off, gesturing vaguely, unwilling to say the words aloud.

Jing Yuan’s eyes flickered with something unreadable—part amusement, part something darker. “A beauty such as that shouldn’t be left behind,” he said, his voice dropping lower, softer, as though he were speaking to himself as much as to you. “Nor should one such as you.”

Before you could respond, he moved, his hand reaching out to lift the teacup from the shelf. With a smooth motion, he turned toward the shopkeeper, the transaction over before you could protest.

“General—”

“Consider it a gift,” he interrupted, his tone firm but kind as he handed the cup to you. His fingers brushed yours as you took it, the brief contact sending a jolt through you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, clutching the cup to your chest. Your tail swished nervously behind you; your ears flattened slightly as you avoided his gaze.

Jing Yuan watched you with a quiet intensity, his smile never faltering. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, his mind raced. Seeing you here, holding something he’d given you, made something primal stir within him. You were no longer just a fleeting obsession, no longer a memory confined to dimly lit nights. You were here, real and tangible, and he wasn’t sure he could ever let you go.

Jing Yuan couldn’t help himself. The moment you stepped outside the tea shop, clutching the intricately designed cup he had bought for you, he was already glancing back at the shelves. He ended up purchasing an assortment of things—fine tea leaves, a brewing set that complemented your cup, and even a small silk pouch embroidered with a motif. It wasn’t about the items themselves; it was the thought of you using them, of you remembering this moment, that drove his actions.

He exited the shop with a bag in hand, catching up to you with ease. The sun cast a warm glow on the cobblestone streets, and your figure seemed to glow in the light. Your white dress fluttered softly with each step, and your tail swayed gently behind you, a detail he couldn’t help but admire.

“You didn’t have to get more,” you said softly, glancing at the bag he carried.

He chuckled, his deep voice warm. “It’s no trouble at all. Tea is best enjoyed with care, wouldn’t you agree? Besides, you deserve nothing but the finest.”

Your cheeks turned the faintest shade of pink, and you glanced away, your ears twitching. “Thank you… General.”

“Jing Yuan,” he corrected smoothly, his golden eyes gleaming. “When it’s just us, there’s no need for formalities.”

You hesitated but nodded. “Thank you, Jing Yuan.”

As you walked together, he took the opportunity to get to know you better. It started with small questions—your favourite teas, if you frequented the shop often—but soon, the conversation deepened. He found out that you were passionate about dance, your eyes lighting up as you spoke about it, despite the soft-spoken nature of your words.

“It’s always been something I loved,” you admitted, your fingers brushing the edge of the teacup you still held. “But… the work I do now, it’s not exactly what I envisioned.”

“Oh?” he prompted, his gaze sharp but gentle, encouraging you to continue.

You hesitated, glancing at him briefly before looking back at the path ahead. “The dancing I do now… it’s to pay off my father’s debts. It’s… different from the dancing I dreamed of as a child.”

Jing Yuan’s jaw tightened, though his expression remained calm. The thought of you, someone so poised and graceful, burdened by another’s mistakes, ignited a protective streak within him. He didn’t press further, sensing you weren’t ready to elaborate, but the knowledge lingered in his mind like a seed waiting to take root.

When the time came for you to part ways, you stopped at a small intersection, turning to face him. Your hands clutched the teacup tightly, your expression shy but sincere. “Thank you again, Jing Yuan. For everything.”

His smile softened, and for a moment, his golden gaze held yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I’ll see you later,” he said, his tone leaving no room for doubt. You blinked, your cheeks heating up as you realised what he meant. You gave him a small, flustered nod before quickly excusing yourself, your tail swishing nervously as you hurried away.

Jing Yuan watched you go, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. He would see you later, of course, but not just as part of a crowd. No, when you danced tonight, it would be for him, and he would make sure you knew it.

The brothel exuded an even more sinful opulence. Red and gold fabrics draped like cascading rivers of silk from the high, arching ceilings. The air was thick with the intoxicating scent of sandalwood incense, mingling with the faint sweetness of lotus blossoms arranged in ornate porcelain vases. The walls were adorned with intricate scrolls of calligraphy, their elegant strokes illuminated by the flickering glow of countless candles. Every corner seemed steeped in temptation, every detail carefully crafted to blur the lines between reality and indulgence.

Jing Yuan sat alone in a private room; a sanctuary veiled by velvet curtains. The plush cushions beneath him did little to ease the tension coiled in his body. A lacquered tray before him held untouched tea and delicate fruit, but his golden gaze never wavered from the stage below. The brothel’s ambiance—a sultry blend of murmurs, soft music, and rustling silks—faded to nothing as you stepped into the spotlight.

Your presence commanded every eye in the room, but his was the only gaze you truly felt. You were a vision of raw, untamed allure. The outfit you wore left little to the imagination, sheer fabrics clinging to your every curve, your skin gleaming with a faint sheen of sweat under the dim, golden light. Crimson painted your lips, a bold invitation, while the smoky shadow around your eyes framed them like a weapon. Your tail swayed with each step, teasing, enticing, an extension of the sensual rhythm that seemed to pulse from your very being.

The music began, slow and sultry, and you moved with a deliberate grace, every step a calculated seduction. Your hips swayed in time with the haunting melody, and the way your hands glided over your body had the audience mesmerized. To him, however, it was something more—a torment, a fire that spread through his veins and pooled low in his stomach.

Jing Yuan’s usually serene expression was gone, replaced by a raw intensity that darkened his golden eyes. He leaned forward, his broad shoulders filling the dimly lit alcove as his focus narrowed solely on you. His fingers tightened on the armrest, his chest rising and falling in steady, heavy breaths. The soft sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, the subtle arch of your back, the sway of your hips—it was more than he could bear, yet he couldn’t look away.

The room disappeared for him; the murmured conversations, the soft laughter, the flickering candles—all of it was drowned out by you. Every slow, sensual turn, every flick of your tail, every teasing brush of your fingers across your skin seemed crafted solely for him.

When your eyes lifted and met his, just for a moment, the tension snapped taut. That fleeting connection sent a visceral thrill through him, a silent challenge in the way you quickly looked away. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. The denial—the way you teased and withheld even your gaze—was maddening.

You spun again, your bold crimson lips parting as though whispering secrets to the air, your hands brushing over the curve of your waist. The sheer fabric clinging to your body teased him mercilessly, every contour revealed in the flickering candlelight. His golden gaze roamed over you hungrily, his breaths deep and deliberate as if trying to anchor himself against the storm of desire you had unleashed.

The sweat glistening on your thighs, the way your hair clung to your neck, the confident arch of your body—it was intoxicating. Jing Yuan could feel the heat rising

within him, his control slipping with every second. You were temptation incarnate, and he was utterly, completely ensnared.

Jing Yuan's hand moved to rest against his thigh, but the tension in his body betrayed the calm demeanour he fought to maintain. His fingers flexed, slowly drifting, palm pressing lightly against the growing ache beneath the rich fabric of his robes. The weight of his breath was deliberate, measured, but his chest rose and fell with an intensity that mirrored the fire coursing through him.

His gaze remained locked on you, unwavering, devouring. The way you moved-every sway of your hips, every arch of your back, every tantalizing flick of your tail-was an exquisite torment.

You were more than a dancer; you were an artist, painting desire across the room with your body as the brush and the music as your canvas. The strain in his muscles was palpable, his golden eyes darkening with an unspoken hunger. Yet even amidst his rising heat, there was admiration- appreciation for the elegance and mastery of your movements. The way your body told a story, the way your presence commanded the room, it was more than alluring; it was transcendent.

But the intensity of his desire could not be denied. The hardness beneath his robes grew, a throbbing reminder of the effect you had on him. His jaw tightened as his fingers pressed harder, a fleeting attempt at control. Every step you took, every glance you spared his way, only served to unravel the restraint he so desperately clung to. Jing Yuan's breath hitched, his usually steady composure unravelling. The beauty of your art left him enraptured, the sensuality of your dance leaving his mind clouded, his body heavy with need. You were a siren, and he was helpless against your call, a prisoner to the exquisite torment you inflicted upon him.

As your performance came to its crescendo, the room seemed to hold its breath. The music faded into the background, muffled by the pulse pounding in Jing Yuan’s ears. His hand twitched against his thigh, his entire body taut with unrestrained tension as you stepped down from the platform. Each movement you made was deliberate, a purposeful seduction that left his chest heaving, his golden eyes drinking in every detail of you.

And finally, you were upstairs in the room with him.

The space between you closed, and Jing Yuan felt his pulse quicken, a rare break in his usual calm demeanour. His fingers clenched briefly before releasing, as if bracing himself for the storm that was you. You stopped just shy of his seat, your eyes meeting his, bold and teasing, yet softened by something unreadable. The flick of your tail and the slight quirk of your lips only stoked the fire inside him further.

He didn’t wait.

Rising from his seat in one fluid motion, Jing Yuan closed the distance between you in a heartbeat. His large hands found your waist, pulling you to him with a fervour that left no room for hesitation. The moment his lips met yours, it was as though the world fell away. The kiss was urgent, demanding, and possessive. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was fire and hunger, consuming and overwhelming.

His lips pressed against yours like a man starved, tasting, exploring, memorizing every inch of you. One hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, while the other splayed firmly across your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping across your lower lip before slipping inside to claim more of you.

The taste of you was intoxicating, a heady mix that made his restraint crumble. Every small sound you made—a whimper, a sigh—drove him further into madness. The way your soft hands gripped his robes, clutching at him like he was your anchor, only fuelled his need to devour you whole.

Jing Yuan’s mind raced; his thoughts consumed by you. The way you moved, the way you felt pressed against him, the way you yielded under his touch—it was all too much and yet not enough. His hold tightened, his fingers pressing into your skin, as if trying to etch the memory of this moment into his soul.

He wanted more.

No, he wanted everything.

The desire coursing through him wasn’t just lust—it was something far deeper, more consuming. He wanted to know every part of you, to uncover the layers of your soul as thoroughly as he wanted to explore your body. The thought of you with anyone else sent a possessive heat surging through him, and the idea of keeping you close, of having you as his, was a temptation too powerful to ignore.

He broke the kiss only when breathing became a necessity, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady himself. His breaths were ragged, his chest heaving, but his hands never left you, as though afraid you might vanish if he let go.

“You’re driving me mad,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper. His golden eyes bore into yours, intense and filled with something that bordered on obsession. “Do you know what you do to me? How every moment I spend away from you feels like an eternity?”

You didn’t respond—not with words. Instead, your lips found his again, softer this time but no less heated, as though silently answering his unspoken question.

Jing Yuan’s grip softened, his thumb brushing along your jawline with a tenderness that contrasted the fervent need in his kiss. He pulled back just enough to study your face, his gaze tracing every feature as though committing it to memory.

“You have no idea what you mean to me,” he said, his voice quieter now but still laced with that same raw intensity. “But I’ll show you. One day, I’ll show you.”

The promise lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken, as he held you close, the room around you fading into nothingness. For now, in this moment, you were his entire world.

Jing Yuan's gaze darkened as his hands slipped to the hem of your lingerie top, his breath heavy, his movements deliberate. With a fluid motion, he pushed the delicate fabric up and off, revealing the soft curve of your breasts. His eyes lingered, golden and molten, as though the sight of you alone was enough to undo him completely.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with reverence and desire.

Before you could reply, his lips descended, capturing one pert nipple between them, his tongue swirling feverishly. He suckled with an intensity that left no doubt of his hunger, his large hand cupping your other breast, kneading, and teasing. Every soft moan and gasp that escaped your lips only seemed to spur him on, his groans vibrating against your skin as he lavished attention upon you.

His kisses trailed down, wet and open-mouthed, over the curve of your stomach, lingering at your navel before he retraced his path back up. His lips found yours again, searing and demanding, his hands never leaving your body, holding you as if you were a treasure he refused to let go.

Without a word, Jing Yuan sank down into his chair, his strong form commanding even in the act of sitting. His hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly to place you astride his thick thigh.

The moment your clothed pussy settled against him; his sharp inhale betrayed just how much he could feel. The thin fabric separating your body from his was soaked with your arousal, a warm, damp heat that sent a pulse of need through him.

"You’re already so wet for me," he rumbled, his voice a deep, velvety growl. His hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you to grind against his thigh. "Go on. Show me how much you want this."

The friction was delicious, the firmness of his thigh pressing against your most sensitive spot. Your hands clung to his broad shoulders for balance, your body moving instinctively to his rhythm.

Jing Yuan’s eyes never left you, his intense gaze locked on your face, drinking in every expression of pleasure. His lips quirked into a sinful smirk as he watched you lose yourself, your breath hitching, your movements growing more desperate.

"Good girl," he murmured, his words a heady mix of praise and possession. His fingers dug into your hips, guiding you faster, harder, his own breath growing heavier as he watched you unravel. "Let me see everything. Don’t hold back."

You trembled in his lap, your soft, perky nipples pebbled from the cool air and the intensity of his gaze. Jing Yuan’s large hands skimmed down your sides, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His golden eyes flicked lower, settling on the thin scrap of fabric that barely covered your most intimate place.

The sight made his breath hitch—a damp patch spreading across the delicate fabric, clinging to the shape of your pussy lips, leaving absolutely nothing to his imagination. The thin barrier split against the firm muscle of his thigh, framing you in a way that sent his thoughts spiralling.

Jing Yuan's jaw tightened, his head tilting back for a moment as he groaned low and deep. The image of your leaking cunt pulled taut around his thick cock flashed unbidden in his mind, the mere thought causing his grip on your plush hips to tighten.

"Not yet," he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, his restraint hanging by a thread. His arousal throbbed painfully beneath his robes, but he refused to let the tension break—refused to give in until he had you entirely, in the only way he could truly claim you.

His hands flexed against your flesh, fingers sinking into the soft curves as he guided you to move against his thigh again. His golden eyes burned with raw want, but there was something deeper there—something possessive, primal, and utterly consuming.

"You’ll have me, but not like this," he rasped, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm and heavy. "The only way I’ll give you my seed is when I’m inside you. Completely. Do you understand?"

The words sent a shiver through you, your body trembling even more as his intent settled over you like a tangible weight. You nodded, unable to form words, lost in the way his hands and his voice claimed every part of you.

Tears welled in your eyes as Jing Yuan’s strong hands gripped your hips, roughly guiding you against the firm muscle of his thigh. Each drag of your soaked core over the thick fabric sent shockwaves through your body, your clit throbbing with an ache so overwhelming it made your head spin. You clung to his broad shoulders, gasping for air, your cries a mix of pleasure and desperation.

Jing Yuan’s mouth found the delicate curve of your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before he sucked hard, determined to leave a mark—a vivid bloom that declared you his. The sting only heightened the sensations coursing through you, and your moans spurred him on, his movements growing fiercer, more relentless.

“Good girl,” he murmured against your skin, his deep voice sending a tremor down your spine. His golden eyes, darkened with unrestrained hunger, never left your face, drinking in every reaction, every sound, every shudder of your body.

Your back arched, a broken cry spilling from your lips as the tension in your core snapped. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as your release soaked through the flimsy fabric barely clinging on you. Jing Yuan’s large hand splayed across your lower back, holding you steady, his grip firm yet comforting as he guided you through your climax.

You collapsed against his chest, your body spent and trembling. Your underwear, a soaking mess as Jing Yuan’s arms enveloped you, his large hands moving gently now, one rubbing soothing circles along your back.

“There we go,” he murmured, his voice low and tender, a stark contrast to the possessive fire that had consumed him moments before. “I’ve got you.”

His lips brushed against your temple, the touch grounding you as you nestled into his embrace, your breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps.

Jing Yuan’s hand glided gently along the soft, velvety fur of your tail; his touch light yet deliberate. A small, breathless whine escaped your parted lips, your cheeks warming as you instinctively nuzzled into the solid warmth of his chest. His scent, calming yet intoxicating, filled your senses, easing the tension in your body while making your heart race.

“M-My tail... it’s sensitive, Jing Yuan,” you murmured, your voice barely audible, shy and muffled against him.

He paused, his golden eyes glinting with curiosity as a faint smirk curved his lips. “I see,” he replied simply, his tone smooth, holding an edge of playfulness. Instead of lingering, his hand shifted to rest on your back, his large palm moving in slow, soothing circles. Though his touch remained comforting, the knowing look in his gaze hinted that he had filed away this discovery for some other time.

All Jing Yuan wanted, with every fibre of his being, was to bury himself deep into the irresistible warmth of your slick, aching pussy, to lose himself entirely in the pleasure you could give him. But he could not—not yet. Not when he knew you deserved more than just raw passion. He wanted to show you his devotion; to prove he was a man worthy of claiming you fully.

His chest rose and fell with effort as he reined in the primal urges clawing at his restraint. The soft tremble of your body against his own pulled him back to the present, grounding him in the tender moment.

Jing Yuan’s large hand moved to thread gently through your hair, his fingers combing through the strands with a soothing rhythm. “You did so well,” he murmured, his voice low and comforting. His other hand continued to rub light circles on your back, coaxing you to relax as your breathing slowly evened out.

When he finally pulled back slightly, his golden eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Would you like to go to dinner with me?” he asked, the question tender, yet filled with an underlying intensity that promised this was not a mere casual invitation.

The warmth of his gaze and the sincerity in his voice made your heart flutter. You blinked up at him, dazed and blushing, but managed a shy nod, your voice barely above a whisper as you replied, “I’d like that.”

His smile widened, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek. “Good,” he murmured, already envisioning how he would make the evening one you would never forget.

Author’s Note:

Part 2 ? Dinner turns into a full-on session of raw fucking cause reader got her heat ? :3

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Aww tysm! 😭❤️❤️

I've been inspired by my Alhaitham fluff one-shot " between dreams and promises" to write a modern au version of it but with a friends with benefit twist instead of him and reader just admiring their feelings! BUT MY MAIN FOCUS FOR THIS IS TO BE TOOTH ROTTING SWEET AND FLUFF AND OFC SPICY AND SOME ANGST UGHHHH

I just need to brain strom this first, decide if I want to do 1 chapter or like a few jsjskaksk

And also I'm almost done with the last part of blurred lines <3