Hello 👋,

Imagine you're opening AO3 and search for a fic. Imagine you're finding one that fits all your criterias. Imagine it has the perfect length. Imagine getting lost in the story and feeling almost high when it's over. Imagine looking up the author and they have written. so. many. more. fics. exactly. like. that. Imagine.

i'll find my type in every universe, but the one i exist in 😭

let me call you mine, just for tonight | 𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙧! 𝙟𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙪𝙖𝙣 𝙭 𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣! 𝙛𝙚𝙢 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧. [𝙉𝙎𝙁𝙒 — 18 + | smut]

request by : @goddessofdestructionsposts

credits to them for the idea and qoutes, i really loved writing this, so i hope yall enjoy <3

summary : im which emperor jing yuan sets up a ball to catch you — his assassin disguised as a court physician—but ends up fucking you instead.

warnings : nsfw 18 + , rough sex, vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving) , possessive jing yuan , squirting, spanking (like once), doggy style, dom! jing yuan , some angst.

word count: 7.8k words!

The imperial palace of Luofu was nothing short of breath taking that night. Chandeliers hung from the high ceilings like glittering jewels, casting a golden glow over the sprawling ballroom. Opulence dripped from every corner—the polished marble floors, the lavish silks draped along the walls, and the clinking of crystal goblets raised in toasts from nobles adorned in their finest attire. The music floated delicately through the air, a soft waltz that barely masked the tension simmering beneath the surface.

Emperor Jing Yuan had made sure everything was perfect.

You could feel it—this wasn’t just any ball. It was a stage, and you, the assassin sent to end the emperor's life, had walked right into the heart of it.

Disguised as his court physician, you had spent weeks moving through the imperial halls, observing him, waiting for the right moment. But every attempt to poison him, every plan meticulously laid out to rid your empire of its most dangerous foe, had failed. Not because of a mistake on your part, but because he knew. Jing Yuan always knew.

There were times when you would mix a deadly tonic into his tea, only to watch him drink it with a smile, golden eyes twinkling with mirth as though he were in on some secret joke. You had given him a draught meant to put him into a deep, dreamless sleep, only to find yourself slumped at his bedside, drowsy and dazed, while he watched you with that infuriating, knowing gaze. It was as though he had been toying with you all along, allowing you to get close, but never close enough to succeed. Other times, you'd find yourself alone with him, hand brushing against the dagger hidden beneath your cloak, only to be paralyzed by the weight of his gaze.

But tonight… tonight was different. He had thrown this ball—a grand, sweeping affair—and the unspoken question haunted you as you moved among the guests: Was this his way of mocking you? Was this all just a game?

You scanned the room, your pulse quickening when you spotted him across the sea of nobility. There he stood, his broad shoulders relaxed, one hand wrapped around a glass of wine. Jing Yuan’s presence was a force unto itself. Tall, commanding, and impossibly serene, he looked almost disinterested, as if none of this mattered to him at all.

But you knew better.

And now, like a moth drawn to a flame, you were pulled toward him.

Your eyes followed him across the room. His presence was undeniable, commanding yet deceptively gentle. He moved with the grace of someone far too large to be that light on his feet. He seemed… untouchable.

For all the indolence in his posture, you knew better. Jing Yuan was sharp—dangerously so. There was a reason he had survived your many attempts, and there was no doubt in your mind that he knew exactly who you were, and why you were there.

But tonight, something was different. The atmosphere felt heavy, charged with a tension that made your skin prickle. And then, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes met yours from across the room. A shiver ran through you. His smile widened, but there was something predatory behind that lazy expression, something dangerous. He knew who you were—had always known.

Heat flooded your cheeks, and you immediately looked away, cursing yourself for letting your emotions slip. You were here to kill him, not admire him. But your heart betrayed you, thudding erratically in your chest as he began to make his way toward you.

With each step, the crowd seemed to part for him, a sea of nobility giving way to their Emperor. His tall frame and broad shoulders filled your vision as he approached, his lips curling into a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Jing Yuan was in front of you, towering over you. His imposing frame dwarfed your own, and the intoxicating scent of his cologne filled your senses, muddling your thoughts.

“Physician” he greeted you, his voice deep and smooth, carrying a dark edge of amusement.

Your pulse raced, but you kept your expression neutral. “Emperor Jing Yuan.”

“You came,” his voice was smooth, velvet over steel. “I was beginning to think you might avoid me tonight.”

You offered a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “It’s an honor to be here, Emperor Jing Yuan.”

He tilted his head, his golden eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You seem rather tense tonight. Perhaps you’re in need of a little… distraction.”

He looks at you with those sharp, golden eyes. They held a mixture of amusement and something darker, something that sent a thrill down your spine.

“Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a question. His hand extended toward you, palm open, waiting. The weight of the room seemed to shift, all eyes subtly trained on the Emperor and his court physician, the woman who had been quietly watching him from the shadows all night.

The murmurs of the surrounding courtiers faded when the emperor extended his hand to you in front of everyone. There was no refusal in a moment like this. Not without drawing suspicion.

So, you placed your hand in his, your breath catching as his fingers curled around yours. His hand was warm, larger than yours, and there was a subtle strength behind his grip as he led you onto the ballroom floor.

The music swelled, and he pulled you into his arms with such ease that you barely had time to think. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer than was appropriate for a formal dance, but no one would dare question the emperor.

Your heart pounded as your body pressed against his, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your gown. His size was overwhelming, and though you tried to stay focused—tried to remind yourself of your mission—it was impossible to ignore the heat building between you. His hand was firm, guiding you effortlessly across the dance floor, and your breath hitched as his thumb traced small, lazy circles against your lower back.

“How has your stay been?” he asked, his tone conversational, as though your body wasn’t molded to his, as though he wasn’t dragging his thumb along the edge of your spine in a way that made your knees weak.

“It’s been… interesting,” you managed to reply, your voice steadier than you felt.

“Oh? And in what way?”

His gaze locked with yours, the golden depths drawing you in, making it difficult to concentrate on anything but the feel of his hand on you. You swallowed, trying to keep your head clear.

“Well… I've had to tend to many things during my time here,” you said, carefully choosing your words. “You’ve kept me quite busy.”

“I’m sure I have,” Jing Yuan murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice. “But you’re not here to discuss work tonight, are you?”

His hand slid lower, his fingers grazing the curve of your waist. It was a subtle movement, but enough to send a rush of heat through your body. You bit your lip, fighting the urge to pull away—or to lean into his touch.

“Why did you throw this ball, Emperor Jing Yuan?” you asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from the dangerous territory it was heading towards.

“Why not?” he replied with a small shrug, though his eyes never left yours. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had something… festive. Besides”—his voice lowered, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear—“I enjoy seeing you like this. So… tense, so poised. Trying to resist the urge to kill me.”

Your eyes widen, your blood ran cold. His eyes shine now with a dangerous glint as he moves his face closer to you, his lips now graze the lobe of your ear. Your heart raced. He knew. He had known from the moment you stepped foot in his imperial palace.

"Tell me," Jing Yuan continued, his voice dropping lower, "are you truly here to kill me, or is there something more you’re after?"

His golden eyes now bore into yours, searching, and for a brief moment, you felt exposed, as if he could see through every wall you had carefully constructed. You had come here with a mission—to eliminate him. But now, standing in his arms, his breath warm against your skin, his touch sending heat coursing through your veins, doubt began to creep in.

Could you do it? Could you really kill him?

"I don’t fear death," Jing Yuan whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "But I wonder… do you?"

The tension between you crackled like a live wire, each second ticking by as you danced together, his hand sliding further up your back, his thumb pressing gently against the base of your neck. His words hung in the air, a challenge, a question that you weren’t sure you could answer.

Your fingers twitched toward the hidden dagger beneath your gown, but you hesitated. His gaze never wavered, his expression calm, almost expectant. He was daring you to make a move. To finish what you had come here to do.

But instead, you found yourself leaning into his touch, your breath catching in your throat as his hand brushed the nape of your neck, his fingers sliding through your hair in a slow, deliberate motion. His grip was firm, yet there was a tenderness to it, an intimacy that sent your mind spinning.

The tension between you was thick, palpable, as you moved together in the heart of the ballroom. The candlelight flickered, reflecting off the gold embroidery of his robe, illuminating the sharp line of his jaw, the way his lips curled into a knowing smile.

"You play a dangerous game," you whispered, your voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

Jing Yuan chuckled softly, his fingers tightening slightly on your waist as he guided you through a smooth turn, the movement drawing your bodies even closer together. His eyes never left yours, a silent challenge lingering in their depths.

"Perhaps," he murmured, his tone a mix of amusement and something darker, something that made your breath catch. "But you’ve already walked into the lion’s den, haven’t you?"

You could feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your gown, and for a moment, it was impossible to focus on anything else. The scent of incense hung heavy in the air, the gentle hum of conversation around you drowned out by the pounding of your heart as his hand slid up your back, his touch deliberate, possessive.

The ballroom was a spectacle of imperial wealth—massive golden chandeliers dangled from the high ceilings, their crystals sparkling like stars above. Marble columns lined the room, each intricately carved with ancient symbols of power and protection. The floor beneath your feet was polished to perfection, reflecting the light of a thousand candles that cast the entire scene in a warm, intimate glow. Nobles in lavish silks and embroidered robes spun gracefully across the dance floor, but to you, it felt as though the world had narrowed down to just the two of you.

Jing Yuan's voice was a low murmur, his breath warm against your skin as he tilted your chin upward, his golden eyes locking onto yours. "You are here to kill me, yet every time you spoke to me, touched me…" He paused, his hand tracing the line of your jaw gently, as if memorizing every detail. His expression softened, something vulnerable flickering in the depths of his gaze.

"There was no malice. No hatred. Only something I couldn’t name but felt every time you were near. It made me question everything. I’m drawn to you, like the tides to the moon, and I can't stop myself."

You felt a tight knot form in your chest, an undeniable tension between you, but you steeled yourself, forcing the flutter of emotions to quiet. Swallowing hard, you scoffed lightly, keeping your voice steady despite the way your heart pounded in your ears. "Oh, so you invite assassins to your balls now? Quite the thrill for an emperor, isn't it?"

He chuckled softly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, but the intensity in his gaze never wavered.

His smile widened, a slow, deliberate expression that made your stomach twist with both dread and something far more dangerous. He guided you through another turn, his hand sliding further up your back, sending shivers through you with each movement.

"I welcome all sorts to my palace," he said, his tone light but layered with meaning. "And I am rarely caught off guard."

This entire ball—this dance—had been his way of toying with you, drawing you in, testing your resolve. But why? Why let you get this close?

Jing Yuan’s smirk held steady, a small, knowing curve that barely betrayed the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior. As he stepped closer, the air between you seemed to charge with electricity. His towering form loomed over yours, not in intimidation, but in a way that felt impossible to ignore, like gravity itself was drawing you in. His hand found your waist, the touch subtle at first, a reminder of how easily he could command the space around you, you could only focus on him—on how his fingers tightened ever so slightly around you, how his breath seemed to mingle with your own in the quiet, secluded corridor.

"You know why you're here," he murmured, his deep voice a soft rumble in the dim light. His lips were near your ear, so close that each word brushed your skin like a secret. "But do you know why I haven’t stopped you yet?"

His question cut through your thoughts like a blade, leaving you momentarily speechless. Before you could form a coherent answer, Jing Yuan gently pulled you out of the ballroom, his fingers still firm on your waist, guiding you with an ease that made it clear he was in control of every step. The hallways outside were dimly lit, the soft flicker of lanterns casting shadows along the walls, heightening the sense of intimacy in the air. The soft hum of music and laughter from the ball grew faint, the silence between you filled with an unspoken tension that seemed to thrum beneath your skin.

He stopped, turning to face you fully now, and his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. His tall frame seemed even larger in the narrow corridor, his presence overwhelming in a way that both excited and unnerved you. "You came to kill me," he stated, his tone light, as though he were discussing something as mundane as the weather. "Yet here you are… with me."

You opened your mouth to respond, to deny, to say anything to break the growing tension, but the words stuck in your throat. His hand slid from your waist to your cheek, fingers brushing your skin with a gentleness that made your heart pound. "You’re trying so hard to fight this," he murmured, his thumb brushing the corner of your lips, smudging the carefully applied lipstick. "But you know… You can deny your feelings all you want, but you can't resist me."

Before you could protest, Jing Yuan's lips crashed against yours, but it wasn’t the kiss of a desperate man—it was controlled, deliberate, a slow burn that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips moved against yours with a measured precision, coaxing rather than demanding. His tongue slipped past your parted lips, teasingly exploring, tasting you in a way that made your knees weaken. The kiss deepened, his tongue curling against yours in a sensual rhythm that left you breathless, your body betraying you as you leaned into him.

You could feel his smirk against your mouth as one of his hands snaked up to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer until your bodies were flush. The fabric of your dress felt far too thin between you, the heat of his body seeping into yours as his other hand grazed the curve of your waist. His fingers lingered there, pressing into the softness of your skin through the layers of fabric, his touch possessive, yet restrained.

Your mind screamed at you to regain focus—to remember your mission—but the warmth of his hands on your body, the intoxicating taste of him on your lips, was too much. For a fleeting moment, you let yourself get lost in the sensation, your hands finding their way to his broad shoulders, fingers curling into the fine fabric of his robe. He was so much larger than you, his presence overwhelming in the best way, every inch of him exuding strength and power, yet here he was, kissing you with a kind of tenderness that made your heart stutter.

He broke the kiss only to trail his lips down your jawline, leaving a burning path of sensation as he nibbled lightly on the sensitive skin of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as his lips found that spot just beneath your ear, biting down gently. You gasped, and his grip on your waist tightened in response, as though he was waiting for that exact reaction.

"Let me call you mine, just for tonight," he whispered against your skin, his voice so low and husky it sent heat pooling in your core.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You didn’t need them. The faint nod you gave him, the flush on your cheeks, the way your body instinctively pressed closer to his—all of it gave him the permission he sought. A soft growl rumbled from his chest, and without another word, Jing Yuan scooped you into his arms effortlessly, cradling you as though you weighed nothing. In the dim light, you could see the raw intensity in his eyes, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

Your heart raced as he carried you through the winding hallways, each step echoing the rapid beating of your pulse. His touch was still gentle, but there was an urgency now, a hunger that simmered beneath the surface. You barely registered the door to his chambers swinging open, the soft light from inside casting shadows across his face, making him look even more imposing, more irresistible.

He laid you down on the edge of the bed with a surprising tenderness, his large hands brushing over your arms as he leaned over you. The room was bathed in a soft, warm glow, the scent of sandalwood filling the air, and yet all you could focus on was the way Jing Yuan looked at you, his gaze full of something raw and unspoken. His thumb traced your swollen bottom lip, smudging your lipstick even further, his eyes drinking in the sight of you—flushed, breathless, utterly undone.

His thumb pressed gently against your lip before sliding it away. His hands trail down your body, large hands grazing against your breast as he finally stops at the edge of your dress. He let his hands slip beneath them as his hands made contact above your knees.

A soft moan leaves past your lips when he gave the skin their a gentle squeeze, Jing Yuan’s eyes darkened with a dangerous glint as his hands, warm and firm, trailed their way higher up your thighs. Every slow, deliberate touch sent shivers across your skin, each graze of his fingers feeling like tiny jolts of electricity, making your breath quicken involuntarily. His grip tightened ever so slightly, a teasing press against your flesh as his hands continued their sinful ascent. Just when you thought you could no longer bear the tension, your breath hitched as his fingers paused, resting against something cold and metallic—the hidden dagger strapped against your thigh.

He let out a low, amused chuckle, the sound vibrating through the space between you, his eyes gleaming with a mix of curiosity and amusement. Slowly, with a deliberate flick of his wrist, Jing Yuan pulled out the dagger that had been meant to end his life tonight. The weapon glistened ominously in the soft glow of the room, its sharp edge reflecting the candlelight.

"Ah, so this is what you were planning to use on me?" he murmured, his voice teasing but laced with dark intent. He twirled the dagger lightly in his hand, studying it with an almost casual detachment. The sight of it in his hand—the very weapon you were supposed to use—made your heart skip a beat. For a moment, fear flickered in your chest, but the look in his eyes told you that he had no intention of letting things go so easily.

He brought the blade closer, the cold metal brushing lightly against your bare skin. Your breath hitched again as you felt its sharp edge graze your thigh - enough for you to feel it but also to not leave a mark on you. His other arm, strong and unwavering, held you firmly in place, pinning you beneath his body with ease.

“Scared?” he asked, his voice a low rumble, eyes locked on yours with a predatory intensity. There was something dangerously thrilling about the way he held you down, his gaze never leaving your face, the blade hovering just inches away. The weight of his body against yours left you feeling both vulnerable and completely ensnared in the moment.

Before you could muster a response, without warning, Jing Yuan moved swiftly, the blade slicing through the delicate fabric of your dress. A sharp gasp escaped your lips as the material gave way, falling apart in an instant. The air hit your exposed skin, leaving you clad only in your revealing underwear while he remained fully dressed. The contrast between the two of you—him still composed, his robes immaculate, and you laid bare, your body exposed under his heated gaze—only heightened the tension that crackled between you.

He discarded the dagger with a careless flick of his hand, the metallic sound of it hitting the floor barely registering in your mind. His attention was solely on you, his golden eyes devouring every inch of your exposed skin. His hand returned to your waist, fingers digging in with more need, his grip more possessive than before.

Jing Yuan leaned down, his lips finding yours again in a kiss that was nothing like the first. This one was filled with raw, unrestrained hunger. His tongue slid past your lips, exploring your mouth with a fiery intensity that left you dizzy. His teeth grazed your bottom lip before biting down lightly, drawing a gasp from you as he deepened the kiss. His hand roamed your body, squeezing the softness of your thigh, tracing the curve of your waist, his touch everywhere at once.

You could feel his need, his want, in every press of his lips, every rough caress. He was overwhelming, his presence all-consuming, and yet you found yourself clinging to him, losing yourself in the sensation. His lips trailed down to your neck, teeth nibbling at your skin, leaving marks that would linger long after tonight.

Jing Yuan shifts into an upright position, effortlessly pulling you onto his lap. The heat between you is undeniable, his hardness pressing insistently against your barely-clad core. Your body trembles as his lips trail slowly down your neck, sending waves of anticipation through you. His hand moves skillfully behind your back, and with a deft twist of his fingers, your breasts are exposed, the fabric slipping to the floor.

His gaze darkens as it falls on your soft, supple skin. His eyes flicker between your flushed face and the curves of your breasts, desire clearly written across his features. Without warning, one of his large hands envelops your breast, his grip firm yet intoxicating as a moan escapes your lips. His mouth quickly follows, latching onto your other breast, his tongue swirling, and his teeth grazing your nipple as your voice trembles in response. His free hand pinches and twists your nipple, eliciting sharp gasps as his relentless mouth sucks and nips at your sensitive skin.

Your breathing grows ragged, each sensation heightening your pleasure. His other hand ventures downward, and with a swift tug, he tears away your underwear. A low groan rumbles in his chest as your slickness coats his fingers, the heat of your desire seeping through. His hand leaves your breast, moving to his trousers as he frees himself, revealing his thick, hard length. Your eyes widen at the sight, but before you can catch your breath, he presses the tip of his cock against your folds, dragging it slowly along your sensitive skin.

A shudder ripples through your body as the thick, swollen tip brushes your clit, pulling a sharp moan from your lips. Jing Yuan’s gaze is clouded with lust, his breath coming in soft, ragged pants as he leans in to latch his mouth back onto your breast. His free hand toys with the other, while his hard length continues to tease you, gliding against your slick lips, building the tension between you to an unbearable height.

Jing Yuan’s movements were unhurried, almost torturous, as he continued dragging his thick length against your folds, teasing your entrance without giving in. Every graze of his cock sent jolts of pleasure shooting through your body, making your breath hitch and your thighs tense around him. His mouth was relentless, lips and tongue working your sensitive breast while his other hand kneaded the supple flesh, sending wave after wave of heat pooling in your core.

“You’re trembling,” he murmured against your skin, his voice low, almost a purr.

A flush crept up your neck, your heart racing as your body responded despite the conflict in your mind. His teasing was merciless, and the pressure building inside you was unbearable. Jing Yuan seemed to revel in your reactions, his fingers trailing down your sides, every touch deliberate, calculated to leave you breathless.

Without warning, his grip on your waist tightened, and with a sudden shift of his hips, he pressed the full length of his cock against you, harder this time. You gasped, feeling the intensity of his desire as it mirrored your own, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“Let me indulge in you,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over the curve of your neck, “just for tonight.”

You barely had time to process the words before his mouth was on yours, his kiss wild and hungry, tongues tangling in a passionate frenzy. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your hips and your breasts, pulling you closer to him as if he couldn’t get enough.

Each touch set your skin ablaze, the heat between you overwhelming, the tension snapping as your body pressed desperately against his.

Your mind felt hazy, lost in the sensation of him, of his tongue in your mouth, his hands grazing every inch of you. When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He stared at you for a moment, his thumb brushing across your lip, smudging the remnants of your lipstick.

“There are no words in this world,” he murmured, his gaze intense, “that can describe the beauty you hold.”

Gently, yet with the assurance of someone who knows exactly what they want, he lifted you into his arms and laid you down on his plush bed, as if you were the most precious treasure in the world. The undergarments that still clung to your ankles were swiftly removed, a final barrier between him and what he craved most.

You were pressed back against the cool silk sheets, and his lips returned to your skin, a trail of kisses that set your body ablaze. Starting at your chest, he kissed every inch with a reverence that made you shiver. His mouth lingered on your breasts, teasing your sensitive nipples, alternating between soft nips and warm, lingering kisses. Each touch left your skin tingling, your breath catching with each motion.

He kissed down your neck, his hot breath sending goosebumps along your flesh. Every brush of his lips was slow, deliberate, like he was savouring each second. His kisses trailed up to your ear, the soft lobe now between his teeth, and then down the line of your jaw, every inch of you claimed by his touch.

“Jing Yuan... please...” you breathed, the words barely leaving your lips in your dazed state, the need growing insistent.

This was the first time you had uttered his name without his title, his gaze flicking over your body, a spark of hunger igniting in his golden eyes. He was ready, and so were you. His hands moved with practiced ease, ridding himself of his robes and pants in one fluid motion, the sound of fabric sliding and soft breathing filling the room.

“What a sight you are,” he whispered, his voice deep, the words dripping with admiration and lust. He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear as his hands slid down your body, feeling the way your skin trembled beneath his touch. “To have you in my hands...”

Your body reacted to him in ways that left you breathless—hips rising, muscles twitching, a soft moan escaping your lips as you gave in to the sensations overwhelming you. You were lost, a whirlwind of excitement and anticipation, helpless under his spell.

“Please... I need you,” you whispered, voice heavy with desire as you spread your thighs wider, silently begging for him to end the sweet torture.

His deep chuckle reverberated through your body as he moved lower, kissing the line of your stomach, each touch of his lips sending waves of pleasure through you. His mouth found the place you ached for him most, he pressed a delicate kiss againts the folds of your pussy, your eyes widening in pleasure as his tongue now gently pushes through your puffy lips— teasing, tasting, the sensation too much to bear.

You moaned, gripping the sheets beneath you as he worked with relentless skill, each movement driving you closer to the edge.

Jing Yuan's tongue was buried in your pussy, lapping up your sweet nectare. You couldn't see but his hips where rutting into the bed like an animal in heat, his groans being muffled by your pussy as he ate you like a starved man. The pleasure built and built until you were barely holding on, your body shaking, breath hitching with each stroke of his tongue.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, Jing Yuan inserts a two thick fingers into your fluttering hole, his tongue now licking and nipping at your sensitive clit, your moans started tumbling out of your mouth as you gasped like a fish out of water from the overwhelming sensation.

His hands squeezes tightly on your hips when you tugged on his silver hair, elicting a groan from him. You could feel it, your toes curled as your vision turned white almost screaming as you came in Jing Yuan's mouth. Your thighs trembling around his head, your clit now sensitive but Jing Yuan let you ride your high on his tongue and fingers until your body started to squirm.

He didnt let you go instead he started moving his fingers again, your pussy squeezed tightly on them as you shake from the over stimulation as he hears you crying and squealing.

“J-Jing Yuan p-please s-stop! it’s t-too much, fuck!” you cry out, tears stream down your face as his fingers pound in you, hands fisting the sheets as overstimulation quickly washes over your body.

Jing Yuan watches you as steady tears roll down your cheeks as you beg and beg. your body is glistening with a fine sheen of sweat, Jing Yuan could tell you was about to cum again from the way your body twist and turned in his tight hold.

“f-fuck, fuck, fuck! i’m cumming again!” you wail, back arching off the bed as you cum once more. your body stiffens and this time, a stream of clear liquid shoots out of your pussy, drenching Jing Yuan's chin and the sheets even more.

your eyes are heavy and lidded, your chest heaving and nipples aching when Jing Yuan slowly removes his fingers from your pussy, you whine as you feel your juices slide down your ass.

Jing Yuan gently makes his way up your body, your body glistening with sweat as your breath heavily, your eyes solely focused on him as he gently kissed your neck.

"Turn around for me." He whispers gently, hand pushing aside a strand of hair that fell across your face. Your breath hitched as you tried to let out a sound of protest but the look in his eyes — dark, filled with need caused you to slowly turn around, your arms and legs trembling as you went on all fours. You could feel his body heat againt yours, your arms trembling to hold you up as your pussy throbbed.

You gasped as you felt his large hands cage your waist, your body trembling at the contact. Your eyes widen when you felt the thick head of his cock pressed agaisnt your opening, your body jolting from the overstimulation and pleasure as he preps your neck with kisses.

Jing Yuan let out a guttural groan, before positioning his head at your entrance and then slowly pushing his hips forward. You both let out shaky breaths at the new sensation. Your pussy gripped tightly onto his head, a hiss escapes his mouth as let's his teeth sink into your shoulder causing you to let out a choked moan.

"M-more, please" you whimper, your eyes glazed with tears meets his.The look in his golden eyes shifted from surprise to an intense hunger, making your heart race. Without a moment’s hesitation, he responded, thrusting deeper into you, his movements becoming rougher and more urgent.

“Look at you, begging for me to fill you,” he grunted, his voice low and laced with a teasing authority that sent shivers down your spine. “After months of playing hard to get who would have thought the assassin that was sent to kill me would be writhing beneath me." His words were both demeaning and intoxicating, igniting a fire within you.

His taunts made you tremble, your body instinctively fluttering around him as he drove into you. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, leaving you gasping and moaning loudly, the sound filling the room.

Jing Yuan’s pace was relentless, your arms giving up on you as you fall flat on the pillow, your face stuffed in it as you moan in pleasure. This causes Jing Yuan's big arms to cage your head, his teeth nipping your neck and back as his cock slammed into your battered pussy.

"Ah a-ah ! I'm close ! I'm close! " You screamed, your fingers grasping the silk sheets tightly as Jing Yuan started to go even faster in you. Tears escaping your eyes as your pussy clamped hard on Jing Yuan's cock as you came, yoru fluids drenching the bed below and his abdomen. Your body feeling weak as you go numb from the mind blowing orgasm.

Jing Yuan groaned at this, without warning he slapped your ass causing you to yelp from the stinging pain, suddenly, you felt him twitch inside you, that unmistakable signal that he was nearing his peak. Instinctively, you tightened around him, clenching your muscles as if to draw him deeper, eager to prolong the moment.

“you're mines.” he hissed, his breath hitching as he struggled to maintain his composure. “You’re mine to ruin, mine to break, and mine to piece back together.”

His thrusts became sloppy, the rhythm lost in a haze of pleasure, and you knew he was close. You could sense the tension in his body, the way he strained to keep himself together. He twisted your face towards his, capturing your lips with his, your mouths crashing together in a messy, fierce kiss. You swallowed his loud moan, the taste of him mingling with your own desperation, filling you with exhilaration.

As he released, warmth flooded within you, filling you completely. You felt his body shudder, every muscle tense and trembling as he rode out his orgasm, lost in the pleasure you had both created.

Jing Yuan broke the kiss, breath come out in short spurts. His eyes lingers on you as he preps a kiss on your shoulder. His rough hands knead your hips, causing a soft moan to leave past your parted lips as he slowly pulls out of you, his cum about to slip out but he pushes two thick fingers in you causing you to skirm from the feeling as he lays on the bed and pulls you on top of him.

You were entirely lost in him, every part of you surrendered to the intoxicating pleasure he gave. There was no escape, but you didn’t need one. All you desired was him—his hands on you, his body against yours, and the possessive whispers that claimed you.

Neither of you spoke, but as your eyelids grew heavy with sleep, your heart swelled with emotion. The steady beat of Jing Yuan’s heart against your skin was soothing, lulling you into a peaceful slumber.

As the morning light filtered softly through the curtains, you stirred from sleep. The remnants of last night flooded your senses — the heat of Jing Yuan’s touch, the way his lips had devoured yours, the overwhelming passion that had swept you both away. But now, as you blinked into the light, something felt different.

Your hand trailed down your body, feeling fabric that didn’t belong. You were no longer bare instead, a simple white gown clung to your form. The room was tidy, all traces of what had transpired wiped clean. The intimacy of last night, the fire, the heat—it was as if none of it had ever happened.

Your heart raced as you sat up, your mind spinning, trying to make sense of it all. Did you imagine it? But the phantom touches on your skin and the ache in your muscles told you otherwise. Something real had happened between you, and now it seemed to have vanished into thin air, as though you had been dreaming.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the door creaked open. Your blood turned cold as Jing Yuan stepped inside, fully dressed in his military attire, his presence commanding as always. But it wasn’t just him. Two guards flanked him, standing rigidly behind, their eyes trained on you.

The tension in the room was suffocating. You clutched the thin fabric of the gown tightly around you, your heart hammering in your chest. He stepped closer, and his calm demeanor sent a chill down your spine.

“Awake, I see,” Jing Yuan said softly, his voice betraying none of the warmth or passion from last night. His eyes, though still intense, held a distance that you hadn't seen before. “You must have many questions.”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. "What is this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “What happened?”

He gazed at you for a moment, his face unreadable, then he spoke again, his tone firm, almost indifferent. “You are here for a reason, aren’t you? You came to kill me.”

Your breath hitched, and the truth, the mission you had pushed aside in the heat of the night, crashed back into you. But there was something in his voice, something underlying the cold exterior—a flicker of something deeper. Regret, perhaps?

“Last night,” you began, but your voice faltered. You weren’t sure what to ask. Did it mean anything to him? Was it all just a game?

Jing Yuan’s gaze softened for the briefest moment, but he quickly composed himself. "You played your part well,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “But I’ve always known who you were."

Your chest tightened as his words sank in. You had been a pawn, a piece in his game. The passion you shared, the intimacy—it all felt tainted now, like a trap you had willingly walked into.

“I didn’t—” you tried to speak, but your voice cracked under the weight of your confusion. How could he speak so calmly, as if last night had meant nothing? As if you were nothing?

The guards behind him moved forward, their steps deliberate, and your pulse quickened. Betrayal clawed at your insides, twisting with each breath you took.

“You were sent here to assassinate me, and now…” He paused, looking at you, his expression unreadable. “Now, your mission is over. You will be taken to the interrogation room, where we’ll discuss your future.”

Before you could protest, the guards seized your arms, pulling you to your feet with a force that made you wince. You looked to Jing Yuan, searching for something—anything—in his eyes that showed he felt more than just cold calculation. But his face remained stoic, betraying nothing of the man who had held you so tenderly just hours before.

As the guards began to lead you out of the room, he spoke again, his voice carrying that same underlying emotion. “Leave her there. I’ll come soon to… interrogate her myself.”

His words sent a shiver through your body. You felt like a fool for letting your guard down, for letting your feelings cloud your judgment. The man who had made you feel alive in his arms now stood by as if you were nothing but a threat to be neutralized. The betrayal was palpable, and it stung in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

As the door shut behind you and the coldness of the hallway enveloped you, all you could think about was the way Jing Yuan had looked at you that night, the way his lips had moved against yours, and how you had fallen for a dangerous man who played by his own rules.

But even as the guards led you away, one thought lingered—was there more to his coldness than met the eye? Did he feel the weight of what had passed between you, or was it all just another part of the game?

As the guards led you down the cold, unfeeling hall, memories of your failed assassination attempts flooded your mind. Every time you had tried, Jing Yuan had been one step ahead — or perhaps it was you who had hesitated.

You had mixed poisons into his drinks on multiple occasions, but they had always been mild, too weak to do any real damage. It wasn’t a mistake; deep down, you knew it had been a choice. Your resolve had faltered with every passing day, each time you saw the gentle way he handled matters, his kindness to his soldiers, his quiet strength. How could you kill such a man, one who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders yet managed to offer kindness to everyone around him?

The nights you had crept into his chambers, dagger in hand, you’d been met with the rise and fall of his chest, so peaceful in his sleep. Each time, your hand had stilled, the blade hovering above him, your mind whispering that he didn’t deserve death, not like this. His kindness, his calm, his presence—it had disarmed you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

But now, as the weight of betrayal settled like a stone in your chest, you felt like a fool. A fool for letting your heart think for once, for letting emotion cloud the sharpness of your mission. You had let yourself be swayed by the man behind the title, and in return, he had used your vulnerability against you.

He knew, you thought bitterly. He had known all along that you had a soft spot for him, that your heart wasn’t as cold as it should have been. That every failed attempt on his life hadn’t been due to his strength but your own weakness.

And now, here you were—trapped. You had let your guard down, let your feelings get in the way, and he had played you. The same hands that had held you so tenderly last night now orchestrated your capture. He had been so gentle, so kind—and it had been a facade. The realization cut deeper than any blade you had ever held.

Your heart ached as the image of him, standing stoic and indifferent, replayed in your mind. You had thought, for a moment, that maybe—just maybe—there had been something real between you. But now, his calculated words echoed in your ears, a bitter reminder that you had been nothing more than a pawn in his game.

How foolish, you thought, your chest tightening with every step the guards forced you to take.

author's note:

this is my first time writing a proper s3x scene so please forgive! anyways i hope this was okay! please do like, reblog and comment <3

—usagiibun 🐇

𝐝𝐫.𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦 ‧₊˚ (fluff)

╰┈➤ fem reader. reader is haitham’s patient (this may be a bit self indulgent hehe). mild flirting. fluff. attempt at comedy, just a drabble ig, i love alhaitham fr— just wanted to write something small before disappearing again ehe. masterlist

The first time you met Dr. Alhaitham, he walked in like a problem you weren’t ready to solve.

The door eased open with a soft click, and you barely had a second to breathe before he stepped through. And just like that, every rational thought in your head short-circuited.

He was tall—so tall—and built like the universe had carefully balanced strength and elegance just for him. His white coat hung open, effortlessly draped over broad shoulders, the fabric swaying slightly with each step like it knew how lucky it was. Underneath, his black button up shirt fit too well and his tie perfectly in place.

But it was his face that hit the hardest.

Angular jaw. Perfectly cut cheekbones. Lips set in a neutral line that looked like they’d never curve into anything as mundane as a smile. His hair—a soft grey, slightly tousled like he'd run a hand through it absentmindedly—framed his face with just enough dishevelment to be maddening.

And then his eyes met yours.

Cool, turquoise irises - pupils rimmed with amber. Focused. Sharp. Like a lens sliding into place. He looked at you—not through you, not past you, but at you—and your brain promptly melted into static.

You forgot how to sit properly.

You shifted on the exam table and winced at the ridiculously loud crinkle of the paper beneath you. Great. Smooth. Very dignified.

He glanced down at his tablet. “Name?”

You mumbled it. Or at least, you think you did. Your mouth moved, and he didn’t ask again, so that was something.

His gaze flicked up again, this time assessing. “Hm.”

Just hm.

You wanted to die. Or be swallowed whole by the earth. Or maybe just crawl under the table and never come out again.

He walked closer, writing a few things down, entirely unfazed. His presence filled the room with a kind of quiet intensity, like a thunderstorm just waiting to happen. He asked clinical questions in a deep, calm voice that was way too smooth for your current state of mind.

When he stepped beside you and reached for your wrist, you nearly levitated off the table.

His fingers were precise, cool, steady as they pressed against your skin. Meanwhile, you were vibrating at a frequency only small rodents could hear.

“Pulse is elevated,” he said absently, glancing at the numbers. “Unusual.”

You cleared your throat. “I’m—uh. Just—nervous.”

“I assumed,” he replied, flatly. “Though I haven’t done anything yet.”

Oh my god.

Was that deadpan sarcasm? Was that dry humour? From him?

Your face burned. You could feel the flush rising like a tidal wave, heat crawling up your neck and settling in your ears.

He tilted his head slightly, studying you again. Not with empathy. Not with judgment. Just that same unreadable curiosity, like you were a particularly odd research sample.

“Try to relax. You're only making it worse.”

You let out a high-pitched laugh that did not help your case.

He returned to his notes without another word, cool and methodical as he moved through the rest of the exam. Every brush of contact was maddening. He was so calm, so put-together, while you were over here trying not to pass out from sheer mortification.

Finally, he stepped back and moved to the door.

He paused there, one hand on the handle.

“You should drink more water,” he said, still not looking back. “And maybe avoid overly stimulating environments.”

Then, after a beat—so soft you almost missed it:

“Charismatic doctors included.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

You sat there, frozen, heart racing like you'd just run a marathon on zero sleep and five cups of coffee.

You buried your burning face in your hands.

You were so, so doomed.

The second time you met Dr. Alhaitham, you told yourself it was just a check-up. Just routine. Just to confirm you’re healthy. That’s all.

You definitely didn’t fix your hair twice in the waiting room. Or rehearse what you’d say if he asked anything personal. Or almost chicken out at the front desk.

And then… there he is again.

Same white coat. Same unreadable face. Clipboard in hand. He doesn’t smile. He nods. That’s it. Like you’re a piece of data.

“Still having the same symptoms?” he asks, setting his pen against paper, eyes flicking up for half a second.

“No,” you say too quickly. “I mean—yes. I mean—sort of?” You feel the shame rise like steam in your face. Be normal, you beg yourself silently. Be a normal human.

His brow furrows. “That’s… not very clear.” He’s not being rude. He’s just direct. His voice is so flat, so serious, it makes you squirm.

You try to say something coherent while he approaches with the stethoscope. And then it happens again—he touches your wrist to take your pulse.

Immediate panic.

He blinks. “Still elevated.”

“It’s warm in here,” you blurt.

He tilts his head slightly. “It’s… twenty-two degrees Celsius.”

You die. Right there. He probably thinks you’re about to pass out. Or lying. Or both. Meanwhile, he’s moving through the appointment like you’re not experiencing a romantic crisis every time he breathes near you.

“You’re giggling,” he says, suddenly.

You freeze. “I’m—not!”

He looks up. That same unreadable stare. “You are. It’s fine. Some patients get nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you say way too fast, your voice a squeak now.

He just nods again. “Hmm.”

Hmm.

That’s it. You’re never recovering from this.

Then, as he’s about to leave, he pauses. Flips through his notes.

“You drink enough water now?” he asks without looking at you.

Your stomach flips. He remembered.

You nod.

“Good,” he says. Still serious. Still calm. Still a walking paradox of soft hands and distant eyes. “You seem better. Maybe next time, you won’t giggle.”

And then he leaves.

And you sit there.

Absolutely gone.

The third time you met Dr. Alhaitham, you weren’t supposed to be here. You just needed toothpaste. That’s all. One boring little errand.

You’re in your softest hoodie, your least presentable state, and you’re standing in the pharmacy aisle, zoning out while debating between two brands of lip balm—because clearly, your life is thrilling.

And then, you hear it. That voice. Calm, low, quiet—but unmistakable.

“Excuse me.”

You turn.

It’s him.

Your doctor. In a black button-up and fitted trousers. No white coat. No clipboard. No clinical detachment to protect you.

Just… him. Hair slightly tousled. Glasses pushed up on his nose. Holding a box of vitamins like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

You nearly drop your chapstick.

“Oh,” you say. Too loudly. Too high-pitched. “Hi.”

His eyes land on you, calm as ever, and he nods like it’s perfectly normal that the man you’ve been lowkey fantasizing about is now standing three feet away by the travel-size shampoo.

“I remember you,” he says, flatly. Not unkind. Just observant.

You nearly ascend. “Uh—yeah. I’m… still hydrated.”

A pause. The corner of his mouth twitches. Twitches.

“That’s good,” he says, and somehow it sounds like a compliment.

You just stare. Like an idiot. Because he’s wearing a real person outfit. And his sleeves are rolled up. And his forearms exist. And he’s not doing anything wrong, but you’re actively malfunctioning.

He glances down at the item in his hand, then holds it up. “Do you know if these actually help? I’ve read mixed studies on the absorption rate.”

He’s asking you. For an opinion. On vitamins. And you’re trying to remember how to form a sentence.

“I—I mean, I just… get the gummies,” you say.

He actually blinks. “Gummies?”

You nod. “They’re easier to… chew?”

Another pause. And then, a quiet, rare sound: a soft huff of amusement. You don’t even think it’s a laugh. But it’s close enough to make your chest burst like a firework.

“You’re different outside the clinic,” he says simply.

You panic. “Is that bad?”

“No,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “Just… surprising.”

Your heartbeat is in your ears.

You manage a half-smile. “You’re different too.”

He tilts his head. “How so?”

“You… have forearms.”

His eyebrows go up. You want to eat the floor.

“I mean—not that I think about your forearms—I just—”

He’s watching you. Quiet. Sharp. Then he says, very calmly:

“You’re blushing again.”

You wish for lightning to strike you on the spot. He adjusts the box in his hand like this is all very standard and unremarkable.

And then, as casually as anything:

“I’ll remember the gummies next time.”

And he walks away.

Leaving you standing there like a disaster in a hoodie, holding two kinds of lip balm and a pounding heart.

The fouth time you met Dr. Alhaitham, the waiting room is cold again, or maybe you’re just more sensitive today. You clutch your jacket tighter, feeling that weird mix of dizzy and tired that’s been creeping up for days. You told yourself it was nothing—just stress, maybe. But now you’re here again.

The nurse calls your name, and your heart skips. Because you already know who’s going to be behind that door.

You step into the exam room and sit down, and sure enough—there he is. Doctor Serious. Doctor Calm. Doctor devastating.

Except this time, his eyes linger longer when he sees you.

“You don’t look well,” he says immediately.

You blink. “Gee, thanks.” why do you think I am here ? well it is also to stare at your gorgeous face but I am not going to disclose that to you.

His brow lifts. You didn’t mean to sound so sarcastic. But your voice is quieter than usual, and your usual panic feels dulled by how out-of-it you feel. He steps closer, watching you carefully.

“Dizzy spells?” he asks, sitting down across from you. “Headaches?”

You nod. “Yeah. And I feel kinda tired all the time. Like… weirdly tired.”

He watches you. Really watches you. “Have you been eating regularly?”

You hesitate. “Um. I mean. Mostly. Maybe not perfectly.”

“Have you fainted?”

“No,” you say. “I just… feel like a dying Victorian woman sometimes.”

That earns a real reaction: a soft exhale, not quite a laugh—but the closest you’ve ever gotten. He looks at you again, like he’s trying to read through your jokes.

“Victorian woman,” he echoes.

You shrug weakly. “I’d look really cute collapsing into someone’s arms.”

His lips twitch. “Let’s avoid collapsing for now.”

He runs a few tests, checking your pulse again—so gently—and this time when your heart spikes, he doesn’t even comment on it. He just looks at you, a bit more quietly than usual.

“Your iron might be low,” he says. “Have you been on your period recently?”

You blink. “Why would you—how’d you—?”

“You’ve been here before,” he says simply. “You were flushed and talkative. Now you’re pale and slow to respond.”

You stare. “So you… remember me that well?”

He doesn’t answer. Just writes something into his file.

And then, suddenly, he says:

“You were at the pharmacy the other day.”

Your stomach flips. “Yeah.”

“I bought the gummies,” he says.

You blink. “Did they change your life?”

“Not yet,” he murmurs, writing something down. Then: “I don’t usually see patients outside the clinic.”

You don’t know what to say. He doesn’t look at you as he speaks, but his voice is… softer.

“I just mean,” he says slowly, “you’re different. Less anxious today. Or maybe just tired.”

He looks up, and for the first time, there’s something like concern in his eyes.

“I want you to get a blood test,” he says. “I’ll write a referral.”

You nod, barely processing, because all you can focus on is the way he’s not looking at you like you’re a puzzle anymore. He’s looking at you like he actually… cares - well he is a doctor it is his job to treat you, his patient and to care for you as his patient.

And when you stand up to leave, a little wobbly on your feet, he places a hand gently—so gently—at your elbow.

“Careful,” he says. “You’re still a little pale.”

You look up at him.

“Will you be there when I collapse dramatically?” you ask, trying to joke through the fog in your head.

He doesn’t smile. But his voice is quieter than ever when he replies:

“Always.”

And then he lets go.

part 2

usagii's note ‧₊˚

welp, ill write another part tmr when i come back from college, ugh i love haitham, i wish he was real ssksjkjskjs

Ooo can I please be tagged in all things Namor?🥰

Sure! also Pan Pan is so adorable when eating ! 🥺😭❤️

Can I be added to the taglist of 𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇

Sure ! 💓

This is me Aya.. ‏🇵🇸

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

All the positive words cannot express how generous you are, especially in sharing my posts to inform other donors about the people of Gaza who are still suffering from the terrible conditions caused by the unjust war on Gaza!

Please continue to support us by donating directly or by sharing the link to let others know. Don't hesitate to help people in difficult and miserable times until the dark days are over. 🙏🏻🍉

https://gofund.me/c4c2cf82

.

Btw! You should add a read more option to your stories to help people when scrolling! ☺️ It’s a huge part of Tumblr just so you no!

Oh! I'm sorry i dont really know about these things and how they work as I've recently gotten tumblr😅 ill try and do that

EDIT :THANK U SO MYCH U ARE LIFE SAVIOR🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

⭑.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

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

Thank uuu😭💓