May 7
hange frommm aot
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hange frommm aot
Playing with fire 🔥🔥🔥
Taking Hange Zoe's strap like the good girl you are
"Hange, slow down," you whined, back arching off the bed. Hange smirked, hips coming to a stop.
"What? This is what you've been begging for, right?" They cocked their head. You blushed, looking away from their face.
Hange was completely right, but who were they to blame you? All week you had been craving them, their touch, their kiss, only to get some nighttime cuddles before they passed out, exhausted from work.
And of course you felt bad, but even during their most tired days, Hange looked oh so delicious, like dessert waiting to be devoured. Each kiss they gave you in passing only made you want them more.
Yesterday, you started to beg right when Hange got home from work, clinging to their side mumbling about how much you missed them and how work had "stolen them from you".
You crying while eating out Hanji
CW: wlw, Hanji uses they/them pronouns and is afab in this fic, oral (Hanji receiving), dacryphilia, praise, top! Hanji, bottom! Reader, first time ish, overstimulating, pussy drunk reader, squirting
You and Hanji had been together for a little while now, and they two of you just started getting more intimate. They were always super careful with you, making sure you were always comfortable and constantly asking for permission. It was sweet, and they always made sure to attend to your needs, often ignoring their own.
It upset you, you wanted to make them feel good too.
So this time around you were gonna make them feel how they made you feel.
You were knelt in front of them while they were sitting on the bed, their legs spread to make room for you in between them. You hand your hands gripping onto the belt of their pants.
“Please, ‘ji, I wanna make you feel good too,” you pleaded, eyes wide with want.
Their face turns a bright red at the sight of you. You looked so pretty begging to eat them out, wanting to make them feel good.
Hanji smirked, trying to keep their cool. “You wanna make me feel good, pretty?”
You nodded eagerly, unbuckling their belt as quickly as you could, fumbling over your hands due to your excitement.
Hanji chuckles. “Greedy girl,” they helped you out and removed their pants and underwear along with them.
They leaned back on their elbows, spreading their legs further apart, giving you the glorious view of their dripping cunt. You whimpered to yourself at the sight, grinding your cunt on the heel of your foot to find some relief for yourself.
“Go ahead then, baby, make me feel good,” they encouraged, guiding your head to meet their pussy.
Your tongue immediately shot out licking them from their entrance to their clit.
They groan out at the feeling of your tongue on them, throwing their head backwards. You moan out, eyes rolling to the back of your head once your tastebuds landing on their taste.
They tasted soooo good.
You immediately speed up your movements, trying to drink up as much of their sweet arousal as you could. Holding their thighs apart with your hands.
Obscene slurps and other nasty wet noises filled the room. You were so messy with it, but you couldn’t help it you just wanted more, more, more.
Hanji held onto the back of your head as they ground their hips on your mouth, moaning so pretty for you. “Yeah sweet girl, just like that, making me feel so good,”
Making them feel too good. Their orgasm quickly starting to approach them. They made a noise that sounded an awful lot like a whimper, but you were too distracted to tease them for it.
Instead, you latched onto their clit and sucked. Their hips bucking up to meet your mouth as they moaned out louder.
“Oh fuuuuck,” they groaned. “Fuck, fuck, I’m—“
They didn’t even have time to finish their sentence before they’re squirting all over your face, you mouth open trying to catch whatever you could, wanting to taste more of them.
Hanji expected you to stop, but no, you just kept going. They gasped out at the overstimulation on their cunt. They straightened back up and looked down at you, continuing to eat your meal.
“Baby, I finished already—hmmm!” They then pulled you by your hair to pull your head away from them.
Your chin was dripping with their juices, your pupils were so wide. Clearly already pussy drunk just from a couple of minutes of eating your partner’s cunt. Hanji felt a tingle in their lower belly seeing you in such a state.
“Mmmm, noooo, Hanji, please,” you beg trying to move yourself back to them, but they were still holding you back from your hair. “You taste so good, please, I want more, please,”
Hanji let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah? You wanna stay on my cunt, baby?”
You nod quickly. Tears pooling in your eyes, threatening to spill. Moving your hand onto their clit and rubbing in slow agonizing circles.
“Wanna make you feel good, wan’ you to cum on m’face again,” you tell them, a sob breaking from your lips.
Their eyes widen, you were crying being taken away from their pussy. The tears quickly spilled from your pretty blown out eyes.
“Pleasepleaseplease,” you sobbed, you couldn’t stand being away from them when their cunt was right there. Waiting for you to come eat them up.
How could they deny you when you begged so pretty like that?
Hanji smiled and patted your head, making you lean into their touch.
“Go ahead then baby, help yourself,” the second they gave the go ahead, you dove back in.
Latching back onto their clit and sucking hard. Tears continuing to fall from your eyes as you looked up at them with a thankful expression.
Hanji’s thighs tightened around your head as they moaned out to an almost scream.
You weren’t gonna be letting up anytime soon, this was going to be a long night.
Some content of hange
Levi & Hange 💚💜
I love them in their vest when they visit Kiyomi's house!
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.
fart