coming to a lame colorado town near you soon: these two hideous towns ch 7 has been released into the wild

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coming to a lame colorado town near you soon: these two hideous towns ch 7 has been released into the wild
Dressed & Confused ── .✦ .ᐣ.ᐟ
────୨ৎ────
After a long mission, the only thing Toby wants is to come home to his lover. His precious, adoring, and soft hearted spouse.
Alas, your dreams have a tendency to work against his peace.
!! T. Rogers x GN! Reader !!
-> You can find out what happens in the dream here !! Dream drabble is F! Coded reader, but this can be read as a stand-alone :p ->
────୨ৎ────
— ^ ^ —
Toby was supposed to be home over an hour ago.
Unfortunately for him, there had been bodies to bury and clothes to burn. It’d been a solo mission, with campers who were trespassing. The usual stuff.
He’d had to chase down the targets, and then he had to bash their skulls in, and then he had to drag the corpses back. Digging with a rusted shovel into frozen earth, pounding at the soil until it gave. He was exhausted.
But this would all be worth it. It always was. The work he did was strenuous, tough and toilsome- and recently, he’d picked up more assignments. Putting himself front and centre to prove his worth, to make sure the operator knew he wasn’t slacking.
Toby’s day-to-day consisted of violence, clean up, and the mindless in between. A schedule he never chose for himself, just one he needed to fulfill. His world revolved around how useful he could be. Yet once again, it’d be worth it, because in the middle of all the chaos—
Was you.
As Toby gets comfortable with you, he will progressively become more of a jackass. Laughing at you for anything, you say a word wrong he's saying it for the next two weeks just to piss you off. He just loves to annoy you, it's his love language. He'll purposely put stuff higher than you can reach if you're shorter than him, he'll put ice in your shirt while you're not looking, he just can't help himself when you get all cute when you're annoyed.
I'm allergic to happiness
Tweek week day 4: stuck
At least one of my entries had to be a redraw of the canon frame. I guess Tweek is completely stuck with his nerdy boyfriend
The brainrot came back....
Inktober Day 11. Tank Girl
free use with him ✿ꫀ ㅤׂ ᛌ ⠞ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 18+
"we should try something fun."
your husband lifts his gaze slowly from the newspaper he was reading.
"fun?" he indulges you, tilting his head slightly to search your face. you suggested something without a description intentionally to make him ask for an elaboration, meaning what you're about to tell him will either be very intriguing, or the complete opposite. he searches your features in an attempt to determine which it'll be. "what kind of fun?"
you pause to make him squirm in anticipation. "i was thinking," you murmur, tracing your finger along the couch's lines with your fingertip, a sign of nervousness. "we could try… being available to each other. like whenever one of us wants-" your face goes warm, "sex."
the newspaper lowers down to his lap so your husband can stare at you intently, but he doesn't move otherwise. he's seated with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his legs apart in a lazy manspread, looking way too composed for what you just suggested. your body is so tense right now that you feel the urge to take a cold shower before the conversation continues. why isn't he saying anything?
"available," he echoes your choice of words. "as in free use."
you nod, trying not to squirm in your seat. "mhm."
he hums, tongue running over the inside of his cheek, and his eyes drag over your body as if he's already imagining all the different ways he can catch you off guard and ruin you. just as you suggested.
"sweetheart," he murmurs quietly, folding the paper and setting it aside, "do you even know what you're agreeing to?"
you shrug, a guileless glint in your wide eyes. you couldn't seriously be asking him this. you, who cries within the first ten minutes of him fucking you and tries to crawl away from him when he's pounding into you, wants to be free use for him, constantly? "i trust you. there... shouldn't be any issues."
he leans back in his chair and lets a silence pass once more. he seems to be considering it. the longer he goes without talking the more you squirm. he lays a cheek in his palm, and continues. "and why do you want to be free use for me?"
your eyes widen and your lips press together. you're nervous but trying not to show it. "it's not just me, you know. both of us are available for each other. i just wanted to suggest it because it's been on my mind a while."
"mm. no other reason?"
you hesitate a second too long, and he notices immediately. his eyes narrow ever so slightly. "well," you fidget, toying with a thread on your shirt to break eye contact just long enough so you don't explode. "i just thought it might be exciting."
"exciting... how?"
you puff out a soft breath and try to play it off. "i dunno… like, getting dragged into a public washroom while we're out grocery shopping. or, like… in the car. pulling it over so we can go to the backseat. or while i'm doing laundry."
"so you mean you want me to be so desperate i can't wait and have to have you. right then, right there."
you fidget again, but nod. "mhm."
he laughs once under his breath. "that's cute. so if you're half asleep," he says, "and i want to wake you up with my cock inside you, you won't mind? or if we're on a hike and you're in one of those pairs of leggings i really like, i can put you up against a tree?"
you nod, but look away bashfully. "i said whenever."
he hums and looks away for a moment in an attempt to stay calm while he processes. then he looks back at you, tutting with a pitying look on his face. like you're a lamb up for the slaughter.
"you don't know what you just agreed to," he says affectionately, like he's sorry for you.
you frown, feeling like he's underestimating you. "yes, i do."
he smiles. "you really don't."
-
the first time he tries out your new agreement is when you're brushing your teeth with him the next morning. you're standing at the sink in just one of his old t-shirts, groggy, hair messy, toothbrush hanging from the corner of your mouth as you blink blearily at your own reflection. he's behind you, pretending to brush his teeth too, but he's just looking at you.
your thighs are bare. the shirt rides up when you lean forward to spit into the sink, and he can see the crease where the back of your thighs meet your plush ass. he's entranced by the quiet way you operate when you're still half asleep and unaware of how good you look.
he swishes some water in his mouth and spits, setting his toothbrush back in the holder while watching you. you didn't notice he was ogling until you look up to meet his gaze in the mirror reflection to see him reaching around to pull you flush against his chest, lifting his hands under your shirt from behind to cup your tits. you don't wear a bra around the house, much to his convenience.
"just trying something fun," he murmurs into the curve of your neck, kissing the soft skin there. you tip your head a little, a pleasant feeling washing over your body as his thumbs roll over your perked nipples. he then wraps his hand around your throat to tip your head back. "aren't you so pretty?" he coos, one hand toying with your breast while the other gives your throat a light squeeze. it does nothing for your sanity. your brain might as well be slipping out of your ears.
you try to respond, but all that slips out is a helpless little whimper, the toothbrush still dangling from your lips.
"you're already shaking," he says softly, letting go of your throat only to glide his hand down the front of your shirt, past your navel, and into the waistband of your thin cotton panties. "and it's not even been a minute since i started. why're you acting like some helpless little virgin?"
you slip the toothbrush out of your mouth and drop it in the holder, using both hands to hold his wrist to keep yourself steady. "you're being mean," you breathe, embarrassed by how quickly he's unraveled you.
he hums, slipping his fingers inside your tight pussy to find you warm and wet. your hips jolt, but you don't move away. "i'm doing what you asked of me," he corrects you, his tone patient. "you said 'whenever,' remember?" he begins to lift up your shirt and tosses it onto the counter beside you, and your panties come off right after. then he pushes you forward so you're bent over onto the smooth marble in front of you.
he leans over your back, palm pressing down gently between your shoulder blades to keep you in place. "you know what your problem is," he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, "you get way too ahead of yourself. then you ask for things you're not ready for."
"baby please," you whine, grinding your hips back, only for him to pull away. he's teasing you. you look back at him with frustration, wanting friction against your sopping core, but he's not allowing it.
you feel him hook a hand under your knee to prop your leg up on the edge of the sink for a better angle, and he tuts at how messy your little pussy is so soon. he spreads you as much as you can go, then nudges his clothed bulge against your core, listening to your breath hitch and breathy pants to leave your mouth. "hmmh... that spot... do that again,"
he hushes you patronizingly, tugging his pj pants just low enough for his cock to be free. you're completely bare in contrast. with a hand pinning you down and the blunt press of his cock between your thighs, he slowly, maddeningly starts to slip it inside with a purposeful roll of his hips, and the stretch immediately hits you. you feel so full with just the first few inches of his fat cock in you.
your mouth opens around a silent moan, eyes rolling back. your grip on the counter tightens while he rocks into you steadily, holding you firmly while his gaze flits from your hole sucking him in and the lewd look on your face in the mirror.
"you wanted this. look at yourself. look how pretty you are when you're being used."
you try. you really do. your eyes flutter open just long enough to catch sight of your own flushed, wrecked reflection, your hair a mess, mouth parted, as he slowly fills you up to the brink, tip kissing your womb. his hand gathers a fistful of your hair to tip your head up.
your head spins as he thrusts into you roughly, flesh slapping against flesh making nasty sounds that echo off the bathroom walls. "y-you're... haaa gonna be late f'work," you moan as he fucks into you deep and rough, his thick cock curving just right inside you to keep bumping against your sweet spots.
"shit... y'wanna talk about that now?" he tugs your hair a little to make you squeal, using it to keep you in place like it's a handle. "i'll grab breakfast on the way there," he says into your skin. "this is more important."
you reach behind blindly because you're desperate to feel your husband or hold him, but he pushes you back down, then leans down to push his chest flush against your back, his skin hot against yours. he nudges his cock deeper in you at the new angle, moving a bulky arm to wrap around your neck and fuck you in a chokehold.
he groans against your ear, rutting harder now, his rhythm starting to lose control while your back arches for him, trying to take more even though you're so full. his hips snap forward with more force and he chuckles into your ear when you let out a garbled, " 'm gonna cum..." followed by a loud mewl. he groans, slamming into that one spot that gets you to tighten up around him each time his mushroom tip gives it a kiss.
"hmm, ask nicely, sweetheart," he nips your ear and bottoms out with an obscenely wet squelch. "mmmm.... c-can i... fuck, c-cum? please, 'm gonna..." your eyes screw shut and your pussy gushes around his thick shaft, leaving your thighs slick and shaky.
he slams into you one last time, burying himself deep inside you so his cum can shoot as deep inside you as he can. he doesn't pull out right away. arms wrapped around your middle, nose pressed into your hair like he's anchoring himself.
"god," he mumbles, still pumping you full, and there's now a creamy ring where his cock enters your cunt. "filled your little pussy all up, didn't i? now i'll feel bad leaving you like this."
you're too wrecked to answer, slumped forward against the sink, letting him hold you up. he reaches for a washcloth by the towel rack and dampens it so he can clean you up, giving you little kisses the whole time while you cling onto him. he keeps praising you, too. "did s'good for me, pretty baby."
he leaves you with a soft peck on your cheek. "ill see you later tonight..."
-
it doesn't stop after that morning in the bathroom. that was just his warm up, after all; his first taste of what you gave him. the second the floodgates opened, there was no closing them. poor you.
there's the time in the gym changeroom, right after your shared workout ends. you're both sore and sweaty, and you duck into the locker room so you can grab your stuff and head home with him to shower. however, the second he sees your flushed skin and damp chest through your sports bra, he doesn't hesitate to tug you into one of the showers and sit down on the bench, tearing off your clothes and tugging you into his lap.
he'll stuff your panties in your mouth so your moans are muffled, and fucks up into you hard and fast with no shame, even as he hears people talking and shuffling about behind the flimsy shower curtain. "you're gonna make a mess on me, aren't you?" he murmurs against your ear. "you like knowing someone could walk in right now and see you like this? my sweet girl, cockdrunk in a gym shower?"
he makes you cum on his cock, stuffs you full of his seed and leaves with you once the coast is mostly clear.
next was the hike. you're halfway up the steep trail with him, on a quick break on the grass off the main path. you'd just bent over a little to re-tie your laces since your boots had been far too tight, when he'd come up behind you, grinding against you and palming your ass through your leggings in broad daylight.
"shouldn't bend over in front of me unless you want me to do somethin' to you," he mutters, voice low and warm at your ear as he presses himself closer, fingers kneading into the backs of your thighs.
he doesn't give you a second to argue before he's guiding you face first to a tree and dropping to his knees. he pulls your leggings down just enough to get what he wants, and the air hits your slick folds pleasantly. you whimper, bracing yourself as he spreads your ass to have your pussy fully presented to him.
"gonna be quick," he whispers, "just a little taste." he mumbles, before shoving his face right into your cunt.
you gasp loudly and your hands shoot up to brace against the tree bark right in front of you and dig into the wood. you tremble and let out a shaky breath when he licks a slow, nasty stripe from your pussy up to your clit, shaking his tongue a little so it slobbers over every inch of your drooling pussy lips, occasionally prodding your hole.
his hands are firm on your thighs to spread you open wider, dragging your hips back toward his mouth while he eats you out filthy and sloppy. his nose nudges your clit, tongue flicking in and out of you, then slipping deep inside.
you bite your lip and your eyes, wide and panicked, glance toward the trail. anyone could walk by since you're not that far off the path, hidden, but not well. if someone wandered off long enough, they'd find the two of you.
"god," he moans into you, closing his mouth around your pussy lips and sucking gently, then going back to make out with your pussy. "taste so fuckin' good, babe. made for me." your orgasm hits so fast that you barely have time to warn him, pushing back against him so you cream right into his mouth.
-
you intended to have one wholesome weekend without your man ravaging you on any available surface in the vicinity. a family gathering that your parents are hosting. you enter the countryside house with your husband's hand on the small of your back to guide you inside, smiling politely as your relatives greet you both with warm hugs and laughter. everyone is in a good mood, sipping drinks, chewing on appetizers. there's music playing, and scents drifting from the kitchen.
he lasts about twenty minutes into the evening before he leans down to whisper filth into your ear while everyone else is distracted in the dining room. "you keep looking up at me like that and you're not leaving this place without my cum dripping down your thighs."
you stiffen, body heating up with arousal instantly, even as your face stays composed for the sake of your family standing two feet away. your husband knows exactly what he's doing. he brushes his lips just under your ear again, letting his breath brush over your skin while his palm subtly slides down to squeeze your ass through your dress, making you yelp.
he's all over you most of the evening. hands holding your hips from behind, cupping your ass, arms around your waist, smelling your hair... blatant public displays of affection. he keeps whispering things. "you're dripping through this dress," he murmurs while you're getting drinks in the kitchen. "do you even know what you look like right now?"
you try to push him away, but he's already behind you, brushing your hair over your shoulder as if he's helping, just to kiss the back of your neck. he's all over you right up until you take a break to get away from the party for a bit before dinner. you choose your childhood bedroom as an escape, needing one second away from him before he decides to finger you at the dinner table or fuck you in one of the bathrooms, but he follows you shortly after.
you just entered your old room, not realizing the door didn't click shut behind you. you make it two steps before he grabs you and pins you down onto your back in your old twin bed.
you jolt. "baby! where did you- what are you- "
"shhh," he murmurs, lips already brushing your neck. "just missed you. five minutes."
your body reacts before your brain can catch up. you tip your head to the side for him, breath catching as he kisses behind your ear and tugs the straps of your dress down your shoulders and pushing it under your tits so he can cup your bare mounds. his thumbs brush over your nipples until they stiffen under his touch, and he groans at your soft whines, pinching and rubbing them with his fingers while he kisses down to your chest, laving his tongue over the swollen peaks. he's practically slobbering on them, one bulky hand playing with one while his mouth works on the other, sucking sharply and then releasing with a wet pop.
he drags your panties down and off your ankles, spreading you into a shameful position to get a good look at you.
"fuck, look at this mess," he thumbs over your pussy with light pressure, teasing you. "this for me?" you whimper a soft yes, causing him to chuckle softly. he leans over you again, playing with your hole while his other hand wraps around his cock to stroke it slow and firm from tip to base, aligning himself with your hole. he doesn't make it easy for you and put it in straight away, instead tapping his cock against your folds and listening to the nasty little squelches that come from you. he slides it up and down, delaying your pleasure to make you desperate.
you gasp and mewl, thighs already lifting for him as he lines up and starts to press in slowly. your body clutches around him immediately, the stretch making your head spin. "ohhh my- fuck," he groans, pushing in all the way until he bottoms out. "tight as ever. made to be fucked in."
you moan breathlessly and tip your head back, letting him start to plow into you. he doesn't waste any time in putting one leg up over his shoulder and thrusting so deep that his balls squish against the curve of your ass and his shaft forms a faint print in your belly from how huge he is. your head lolls back with each of his deep, grinding strokes.
"look at you," he whispers, eyes trained on your filthy expression. "getting ruined in your childhood room. all the innocent memories, corrupted by this one." he mocks you while fucking into you harder. you moan loudly, hands fisting at the sheets, then clawing his biceps, then running down his torso. you have no idea what to do with yourself right now. he's fucking you into oblivion and now you're completely out of it.
"bet your parents think you're still their good little girl," he pants, rocking into you, stretching you out with his fat shaft with every drag. you can feel every vein and the exact angle in which his cock curves inside you. "they don't know you're upstairs getting your pussy wrecked like this."
"fuck! baby slow down, ahn, we're gonna get caught mmfuck, please!"
"please what?" he taunts, slowing his thrusts to an unbearable pace. "please fuck me harder?" he punctuates the question with a sharp thrust so deep inside you your vision swims. "or please fill me up in my little princess bed?" he coos, grinding his pelvis against yours. your mouth falls open in a silent scream as a particularly deep thrust hits your sweet spot, sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine while your back arches off the bed, pressing your heaving tits more firmly against his chest. you can basically feel his heartbeat against yours, thudding in time with his sloppy thrusts.
" 'm gonna cum inside you," he grits, pounding into you hard, cock scraping against your plushy walls and the head of his cock kissing your cervix with every inward thrust. "goddamn, look at me. want you to -haa- remember this." your nails scrape his back. you're crying out softly, trying to stay quiet, but you're so close. you clamp down on him so hard when it hits that he chokes on a groan, hips stuttering as he starts spilling into you with a harsh jerk of his body.
his cock jerks and pulses as he hilts inside you, the thick head flaring inside you as he releases ropes of hot cum pumps into your greedy cunt, your womb quickly filling to the brim.
within seconds, excess semen is already bubbling out around his shaft, dripping down onto the sheets beneath your ass. your pussy clenches and ripples, desperately trying to milk every last drop of him, and he continues rocking his cock inside you as he cums, fingers moving to play with your clit, and you cum shortly after, gushing around his cock and adding to the mess on the bed.
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The brainrot came back....
Missing them 🩵💚
For Extra Credit You Can Hit!!
Synopsis: Toji, the TA, won't bump up your latest essay a couple marks, not with just some begging at least, so you try a different method:
good ol' pussy persuasion
Warnings: toji art by @/youKa.i on insta, smut, porn with a lil plot, nerd!toji, a couple years older than reader but both students, reader harasses him but don't save him he's right where he wants to be, some comedy aspect, college au, non curse au, f!reader, blowjob under the desk, unethical behaviour, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v, briefest choking, sex against the window, pússy inspection, belly bulging, overstimulation, spitting, a little fisting I guess or almost, Toji's poor so this is canon compliant jkjk, creampie and unprotected sex, brief pussyjob, size kink/difference, hidden sex, not proofread Word Count: 10.7k
“For the last time,” he drawls, “I’m not bumping you up a grade.”
You groan, pushing your legs to catch up to him faster.
“Come on, I need this. I’m not asking you to break the rules. All I want is for you to reread my essay and find extra marks, which you will!”
Toji Fushiguro is a tough nut to crack, though he doesn’t look it — one glance at him and one would think he’s a laidback TA. He’s the exact opposite; he takes his job a little too seriously.
For days now, you’d been hounding him, pleading with him and degrading yourself all for him to ‘remark’ your last paper and ‘coincidentally’ find a few extra marks that would push you to the top performing spot you’d been eyeing since forever. Each time you rushed into his office, waited for him after his classes, and followed him to his apartment, he’d shrugged you off with the same ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’ look in his eyes.
a break from the Lore for something wholesome :'))
Helping Toby with his bipolar depression.
summary: Toby's not been in a very good mood the past week, and it's not like his usual grumpiness, it's something worse.
note: this was requested after my last toby fic!
fem!reader x adult!toby
Toby sat in his truck, the door half open with his foot. He wasn't planning on going for a drive anywhere, but the mansion had been getting too overstimulating for him to stand to be in there anymore.
He had gone out for a smoke, to calm himself down. But as all his thoughts died down with the nicotine, one thought stayed in his mind.
Her.
You and your pretty face. You were so undeservingly kind to Toby, despite everything he's done and all the baggage Toby came with.
You knew Toby was a bad man who had done unspeakable things but you also knew that Toby was manipulated by Slenderman when he was only a teenager.
"Toby?" Your soft voice broke the silence Toby was sitting in.
"What are you doing out here?" Toby stomped out his cigarette with his boot.
"I should be asking you that!" You approached him.
"Well I came out to smoke, that answer your q-question?"
"Yeah, it does." You say. "I came out because I was worried about you."
"Well I'm fine, I don't need to be worried about."
"You haven't seemed 'fine,' all week.." You looked at him with a worried expression, and then gently cupped his face.
Toby tried not to nuzzle into your hand as best he could.
"Yeah.. fine." Toby admitted defeat. "I ain't fine."
"I knew you weren't fine," You said.
"Is it.." You paused. "Is it bipolar episodes again?"
"You know me too well."
".. Smoking isn't the right way to help with depression." You gently moved Toby's hand up to your mouth and blew out the cigarette he was holding between his cold, pale fingers.
"How do you think I should cope then?"
You didn't say anything, taking Toby's hand and walking towards the manor.
When you both arrived in the manor, you made your way to Toby's bedroom to retrieve his pyjamas. A plain old flannel pair shorts and some underwear.
"I'm a grown man, I don't need you to dress me, sweetheart.." Toby says, he thinks you're going to dress him.
"I'm gonna give you a bath." You give him a smile.
"What?" Toby felt his face go a little pink.
"We're not going to do anything else, I'm gonna give you a bath."
Toby and you walked to the bathroom and you turned the tap on.
"Sweetheart?" Toby called out. You turned around.
"Yes?"
"Can we have a shower instead?" You felt your heart flutter when Toby asked if both of you could shower.
"Of course," You say as you switch off the bath tap and move to the shower.
While the shower ran, Toby sat on the cold tile floors, and ran a hand over his face. He was tired, he probably had been having sleep issues.
"C'mon sweetheart, clothes off." You knelt down and began to help Toby out of his clothes. He didn't protest like he usually would.
Once both of you were naked, you helped Toby up and both of you entered the shower together.
You grabbed the loofa and some of your soap, lathering up the sponge and then lathering up Toby.
"You're' gonna feel much better after this." You say, giving Toby's exposed neck a gentle kiss.
Toby's hand rested on your lower back as you gently washed him.
After your shower, you and Toby changed into your pyjamas.
You went to grab Toby's water bottle and filled it with nice cold water, because when toby went into depressive episodes he didn't drink much water.
Once you got back into the shared bedroom between you and Toby, you switched the standing fan on and got into bed, sitting Toby's water bottle on the nightstand.
You laid back down in the bed, and Toby took the chance to nuzzle into you. His head resting on your chest and his arms wrapped around your waist.
"Mmm.. baby.." You stroke his hair, knowing that he needed comfort.
"Yes, Yes." You say. "I'm here."
"I lurvee you.." Toby drew shapes on your back with his finger.
"Do you wanna go to bed now?"
"Mmm.. yes." You felt Toby nod against you, his hair brushing against your stomach.
Toby looked back up at you, giving you puppy eyes. He clearly wanted a good night kiss.
You cupped his face, leaning in and giving him a gentle kiss.
You and Toby shared a gentle kiss, full of love and tenderness.
You both fell asleep, tangled up in each other's arms.
𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐓
sex addict hanji x reader!
🧪✨ “what’s my diagnosis, doctor?” ✨🧪
she asked, kneeling between your legs—tongue deep, fingers deeper.
your skirt bunched at your hips, your control long gone.
and when you came on her mouth, sobbing her name,
hanji just smiled and whispered,
“addicted. and so am i.”
cw: sex addiction themes, therapist/patient dynamic, explicit oral (f receiving), power imbalance, manipulation, obsession, fingering, unprofessional behavior, dom!hanji, mild degradation, consent-checked but ethically messy.
—
Therapy Office – 4:08 PM
Hanji Zoe’s Legs Are Crossed. Again.
“You’re not writing anything down today,” Hanji says, voice casual.
You glance up from your notepad — blank, indeed. A fact you hadn’t even noticed until she said it.
She notices everything.
Her glasses are fogged slightly from the rain outside. Her brown hair’s tied up messily, yet somehow perfectly. She’s lounged on the couch like it’s her own bed — legs long, skirt riding a little too high, one foot dangling. And her eyes?
Locked on you.
“I’m listening,” you say, keeping your voice measured. Calm. Not reactive.
“You’re distracted,” she replies, tilting her head. “That’s unprofessional, doctor.”
You ignore the heat creeping up your neck. “Tell me about the last time you relapsed.”
She smiles.
There’s something wolfish about it — soft and dangerous. Like she enjoys making you uncomfortable. Like it’s part of the treatment.
“I touched myself… yesterday when I got back home.” she says easily, like she’s describing what she had for lunch. “After a meeting. I couldn’t stop thinking about someone.”
You keep your face neutral. “Who?”
“I won’t say.”
You wait.
She leans in, eyes narrowing.
“But if you’re trying to make me feel ashamed, it won’t work. I’ve been this way longer than you’ve been licensed.”
“Shame isn’t the goal,” you reply quietly.
“No? What is the goal?” she purrs. “To ‘fix’ me? Cure me of craving? Or is the goal to keep me just sick enough that I come back? Keep talking. Keep undressing in front of you… emotionally, of course.”
You hold her gaze. Your stomach knots.
Hanji smiles again — slow. Knowing.
“You’re the only one who’s ever made me want to behave.”
Your fingers tighten around the pen.
But you say nothing.
She watches you — carefully, slowly — and then sits back again, satisfied.
“See?” she whispers. “I say things like that, and you still don’t throw me out.”
You exhale slowly.
Session five. And she’s already rearranged the power dynamic like it’s chess and you never learned the rules.
The Next Day
Therapy Office – 4:04 PM
She’s Early This Time.
She walked in like she owned the place.
No knock. No hesitation. Just that usual Hanji confidence — messy hair, oversized coat barely hanging off her shoulder, combat boots untied. Her glasses slid slightly down her nose, and she didn’t fix them.
She didn’t need to.
“Afternoon, doc,” she greeted, like you were old friends instead of her therapist.
You didn’t answer right away. Just watched her. She didn’t sit on the couch this time — she dropped into your armchair, your chair, like it was some kind of test.
You closed the door slowly. Sat across from her.
“You’re in my seat,” you said.
She smirked. “Is that a boundary?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t move. “You planning to enforce it?”
Your silence said enough.
Hanji’s smile deepened. “Didn’t think so.”
You opened your notepad — already prepared this time. Already braced for whatever chaos she’d bring into the room like perfume on her coat.
“How are you feeling today?”
“Riled up.”
“Be more specific.”
She leaned back. Legs wide. Arms draped over the chair like she was holding court.
“I had a dream about you last night.”
You didn’t look up. “Dreams aren’t always rooted in meaning.”
“This one was.” Her voice dipped. “You had me pinned to the desk. Your mouth was—well. Never mind. You said you weren’t into shame.”
Your pen paused for half a second.
Just enough for her to notice.
“You like when I say things like that,” she whispered. “Don’t you?”
“No,” you lied.
She sat up. Slowly. Bracing her elbows on her knees.
“You shouldn’t be my therapist,” she said, voice low. “You’re too soft with me.”
“I haven’t been soft.”
“You let me flirt with you.”
“That’s not—”
“You let me stay.”
You swallowed hard. “Do you want me to refer you to someone else?”
Hanji’s eyes narrowed.
“No,” she said. “I want you to admit you’ve thought about it too.”
You looked up. The air between you was thick, quiet. A stand-off.
She reached up, slowly, and pulled the elastic from her hair. Curls fell wild over her face.
“I want to get better,” she said softly. “I do.”
You studied her face — flushed, guarded, but honest.
“But I can’t stop unless you tell me to,” she added. “And mean it.”
You didn’t say anything.
You couldn’t.
Because you didn’t mean it.
10:47 PM – Your Apartment
Your Phone Buzzes. You Already Know It’s Her.
You shouldn’t have answered.
You told yourself that earlier tonight — standing in the shower, scrubbing away the heat in your chest that hadn’t gone away since Session Six. You even left your work phone on the counter. But when it buzzed — again — something inside you said:
It’s her.
And you were right.
Hanji’s voice came through the speaker with that same ragged breathlessness you’ve started dreaming about.
“Sorry,” she murmured. “I know I’m not supposed to call you outside of hours.”
You swallowed, sitting on the edge of your bed. “Is this an emergency?”
She paused.
Then said, so quietly:
“Yes.”
You said nothing.
Just listened.
“I didn’t want to bother anyone else,” she continued, voice fraying at the edge. “You’re the only one who knows what it feels like. This… ache. Like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.”
You shifted, thighs pressing together subconsciously.
“It’s worse at night,” she whispered. “You know that, right?”
“Hanji—”
“I tried everything. Breathing. Pacing. Cold shower. I even—”
A pause. A sharp inhale.
“I touched myself. It didn’t help. I kept seeing you.”
Your breath hitched.
“Your mouth,” she said softly. “The way you talk to me. The way your eyes flick away when I say something dirty. Like you’re pretending you don’t want to throw your chair across the room and pin me against the floor.”
You clenched your eyes shut. “This isn’t appropriate.”
“I know.”
“I’m your therapist.”
“I know.”
And yet she kept going.
“I want you to say it,” she breathed. “Just once. Say you think about it too.”
You hung up.
You didn’t mean to — but your thumb hit the red button before your mouth could betray you.
Silence.
You stared at the phone like it might ring again. It didn’t.
But your body was already on fire.
Your hand slipped beneath the waistband of your shorts before you could stop it, shame and arousal coiling together so tight it made your breath catch.
You thought about her voice.
The crack in it.
Her glasses fogged from breath. Her mouth saying your name.
I touched myself. I kept seeing you.
You moaned — soft, desperate — fingers circling your clit as your mind betrayed you completely. You imagined her hands instead of yours. Her mouth instead of the pillow muffling your gasps.
Your back arched as you came — quiet, fast, sinful — her name caught between your teeth.
And when the high faded, you just lay there…
Hand still between your legs.
Phone screen still lit.
Heart still racing.
You didn’t call her back.
But you didn’t delete her number either.
Therapy Office – 3:58 PM
You Regret Answering That Call. You Regret Hanging Up More.
She’s early. Again.
You hear the elevator ding just before four, and you already know it’s her.
There’s a beat of hesitation in your step before opening the door, smoothing your expression into something passable. Professional. Calm.
Hanji’s sitting there when you enter. Legs crossed. Notebook on her lap. Her glasses are pushed up, lips parted slightly like she’d been mid-thought.
Like she was waiting.
“You look tired,” she says.
You close the door quietly. “Rough night.”
“Me too.”
Her voice is innocent, but the glint in her eye says otherwise.
Your body tenses as you take your seat — your seat — not hers. Not this time.
You open your notepad. “Let’s begin.”
She tilts her head. “You sure you don’t want to talk about the call?”
You keep your face still. “That call was inappropriate.”
“I noticed you didn’t say unnecessary.”
You don’t respond.
Hanji smiles — slow, almost lazy. She’s not pushing it yet. Not really. But her eyes keep drifting to your mouth. Every time you speak. Every time you press your lips together. Every time you breathe too deep.
She’s studying you.
Like a craving she’s trying not to taste.
And it’s driving you insane.
“Have you considered we’re making progress?” she asks suddenly, like she hasn’t been eye-fucking you for the past five minutes. “I haven’t had sex in over a week.”
“You called me at nearly eleven to tell me you couldn’t stop touching yourself.”
“I didn’t say I succeeded at progress. Just that I’m thinking about it more.”
“And what are you thinking now?”
She leans forward.
Eyes locked to your lips.
“That if you tell me to behave one more time with that mouth—”
You cut her off, voice tight: “You’re deflecting.”
She blinks, lips twitching. “So are you.”
There’s a silence between you. Tense. Breathing.
Her fingers twitch against the arm of the chair. Her knees part slightly. You pretend not to notice. She knows you noticed.
“I liked hearing you breathe last night,” she says. “Right before you hung up. You were shaking.”
You grip the pen harder.
This session’s going nowhere.
Except it’s going exactly where she wants.
“You’re staring again,” you say softly, breath shaky.
Hanji’s smile is slow. Wide. Dangerous.
She’s already across the room before you can stand — before you can do anything.
And then?
She’s in your lap.
One knee braced between your legs, hands on your shoulders, eyes sharp as scalpels. Her breath ghosts over your lips as she murmurs:
“If you want me to stop, tell me now.”
You don’t.
You can’t.
Because the ache between your legs has been building for weeks. Because every word she’s said has rewired your body into hers. Because you stopped being her therapist the moment you imagined her mouth on you.
So you whisper:
“Close the blinds.”
She doesn’t.
Instead, she kisses you — hard — tongue sliding in like she owns your mouth, hips rolling into yours, making you feel how soaked she already is. You gasp, and Hanji smirks into the kiss.
“God, you’re soft,” she breathes, pulling your blouse open. “You dress like a professional, but under here… you’re so fucking easy.”
Her hands slip under your bra — teasing, circling — and your hips jerk forward involuntarily.
She hums. “Already losing control, doctor?”
You try to answer. You do. But then her mouth is on your neck — teeth dragging, tongue licking up the racing pulse in your throat. Her hands push your skirt up, sliding your underwear down without care.
“Let me taste how stressed I make you,” she growls.
You shudder.
And then she drops to her knees between your legs.
Ripping your thighs apart. Gripping them so tight you whimper. Her breath is hot against your soaked center — and then her mouth descends.
“Holy—Hanji—”
She moans into you, like your pussy is her favorite drug — licking slow and messy, tongue pressing into your clit just right, until you’re trembling in your chair, gasping her name like a prayer.
“You taste like sin,” she mumbles between licks. “Like guilt and God and everything I shouldn’t have.”
Her fingers slide inside you — deep, curved perfectly — and you scream, hips jerking up into her mouth.
Your hand flies to her hair, yanking, grounding — and she loves it.
“That’s it,” she whispers. “Come on my tongue, baby.”
You do.
You break.
Shaking, crying out, thighs clamped around her head as you come harder than you ever have — because it’s wrong. Because it’s her. Because she made you.
When it’s over, she stays there.
Breathing you in.
Then she looks up — mouth slick, lips swollen — and says, so sweetly:
“What’s my diagnosis, doctor?”
You pull her up by the collar of her shirt, dragging her into a messy, fucked-out kiss.
“Addicted,” you whisper. “And so am I.”
—
SOMEBODYY SAYYY AAAYYYEEE WE WANT SOME PUSSAYYYY. I wanna write my female anime character x readers but I don't know who.
anon, i hope you know i took this VERY seriously. i dont play bout Sally 🫶🏿🩷
So I wrote this because I had a pretty bad migraine and wanted some comfort. MAJOR TW FOR MIGRAINES!!!! Reader is having a retinal migraine WITH an ocular aura. Very descriptive detailing of symptoms.
Your legs were draped across Sal's lap, his thumbs gently smoothing over your thighs while a slasher movie played on the TV. His piercing blue eyes occasionally dart over to you, sensing your unease, though he can't figure out what's got you so distracted. You don't seem to be scared of the movie or nervous from his closeness, just mentally elsewhere.
the fandom may be dead, but my love for Sal is eternal
Jealous!Sal Fisher x reader
Something about that guy just made Sal's fucking blood boil. The way he nudged you on the shoulder when he made you laugh, the way he'd talk about your hobbies and interests as if Sal didn't already know you like the back of his hand. He hated the way that asshole dangled his friendship with you right in front of his face, like he was taunting Sal with the idea of being close with you. And most of all, he fucking hated the way you didn't seem to notice. Always laughing off his dumb little antics under the excuse of "that's just how he is."
"I don't like the way he talks to you," Sal blurted out one evening as he lazily strummed at his guitar, keeping his eyes locked on the strings rather than on you. You looked up from your sketchbook, head tilted in confusion. "Who?"