#therapist reader

He sits stiff in your chair, his broad frame swallowed by shadow. The balaclava remains on. He watches you in silence, his presence a force rather than a shape. You’ve had difficult patients before, men and women unraveled by things they could never speak aloud. But Simon—he’s different. He doesn’t unravel. He resists.

You take your notes. You ask your questions. He answers in clipped, calculated words, giving you only what he deems necessary. There’s no attempt at healing. No trust extended. His jaw ticks when you probe too deeply, and though his voice is quiet, you can hear the warning in it.

But you’re patient.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

The days pass in small, careful increments.

At first, Simon barely speaks, his replies brief and methodical, his posture rigid in the leather chair opposite your desk. But then, as the weeks wear on, the silences between his answers grow shorter. He begins to linger after sessions, his eyes sweeping over the bookshelves, the worn rug, the city skyline just beyond your window. He studies you, too, his gaze lingering a little too long, his presence stretching just beyond the professional.

It begins in small moments.

The first time your fingers graze his wrist as you pass him a glass of water, he stills beneath your touch. The first time you say his name without the weight of professionalism, his head tilts ever so slightly. The first time you hold his gaze and refuse to look away, his breath comes just a fraction sharper.

Simon’s not a man who yields. But you see it—the way his hands curl into fists, the way his body tenses when you come too close, as if torn between pulling away and holding you there.

And then, one night, he stays too long.

The office is dim, the lamplight flickering against the mahogany desk. He stands at the threshold, his body a looming silhouette against the doorframe. You don’t ask him why he hasn’t left. Instead, you rise from your chair, your steps slow, deliberate.

“Simon,” you murmur, just his name, letting it settle in the thick silence between you.

He exhales sharply. “I don’t want to be saved.”

You reach him then. Lift your hand, press your palm to his chest, feel the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. His breath catches, his body rigid beneath your touch. But he doesn’t stop you.

“Then let me ruin you instead,” you whisper.

Something in him breaks.

His hand comes up, grips your jaw—not gentle, not hesitant. His fingers press into your skin, tilting your face up as he looms over you. The heat between you is unbearable, thick with something dark, something hungry.

And when he lifts his balaclava over his nose and kisses you, it is not sweet. It is not soft. It is raw, desperate, filled with the ghosts he never speaks of.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

Simon has you pressed against the edge of your desk, his fingers gripping your waist with a possessive intensity. His body is solid, unwavering, and when he finally pulls back just enough to look at you, there’s something unreadable in his gaze.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, voice low, strained.

You don’t. Instead, your hands find his belt, your fingers unbuckling the leather with measured intent. “I won’t.”

A low sound rumbles from his chest, something between a growl and a sigh. God, the things you do to him without even trying. 

He undresses you with an aching slowness, peeling away each layer as if memorizing the sight of you—every curve, every breath, every shiver beneath his touch. By the time you’re left in nothing but your black lace lingerie, the very set you’d worn with a thought buried too deep to admit, his fingers are already mapping the softness of your skin, rough palms tracing reverent paths along your body.

His mouth follows the path of his hands, teeth grazing your pulse, lips pressing against the sensitive skin of your collarbone. He takes his time, drinking in every sound you make, every shift of your body beneath him.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick, fingers ghosting over your thighs before he shoves his jeans and boxers just low enough. His cock springs free, heavy and hard, slapping against his stomach. You barely have time to take in the sight of him—thick, flushed, slick with pearlescent pre—before your breath catches, tongue flicking out instinctively as your lips part.

His hands find the backs of your thighs, and in one swift movement, he lifts you onto the edge of your desk like you weigh nothing, the wood groaning under the shift. You gasp, reaching for purchase, but before you can form his name, his palm presses firm over your mouth. The look in his eyes is all the command you need. No words necessary. Your body melts into his, pliant, yielding.

His hand lingers for a moment before sliding down, fingertips teasing the band of your panties before slipping beneath, dragging them down your legs with deliberate patience. When they hit the floor and his hands part your thighs, a quiet sound rumbles from his chest—a dark, hungry thing that settles deep in your core.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes, forehead pressing against yours as he takes himself in hand, guiding his swollen tip through the slick heat of your folds. The drag is slow, torturous, catching at your entrance with every pass. A soft whimper spills from you, need curling tight in your belly. Hardly any foreplay, and you’re already trembling, already half undone.

“Such a pretty little cunt,” he mutters, dragging his lips over your jaw, his grip tightening on your thighs. “Y’gonna take me like a good girl, yeah?”

Your breath hitches, a moan slipping past your lips when he finally sinks into you. He moves slowly at first, savoring the way you arch against him, the way your fingers dig into his back. But when you whisper his name—a plea, a prayer—his restraint unravels.

He fucks you deep, hard, like he needs this more than air. His breath is ragged, his grip bruising, his body pressing you into the desk as if trying to brand himself into you. Every thrust drives you further into bliss, each snap of his hips forcing moans from your lips that he greedily swallows with every stolen kiss.

When you come, it’s with his name spilling from your lips, your body tightening around him, pulling him deeper. And when he follows, it’s with a low, broken groan, his body tensing as he buries himself in you, his weight pressing you against the polished wood.

For a long moment, neither of you move. His breath is hot against your skin, his chest rising and falling heavily.

And when he finally speaks, it is not a confession. Not an apology. Just a quiet, desperate truth.

“Don’t fix me.”

Your eyes widen at Hannibal's words. His eyes bore into you, observing the way your face flushed the more he maintained eye contact. You should probably refute him but it's no use. Dr Lecter has seen into the deepest parts of your mind. He knows who you are. And now he knows your secret. The truth is the sessions had really been helping. It wasn't until recently that you’d found an ulterior motive for coming to every session. 

You had a crush on your therapist. 

You focus your gaze on the wall in front of you, trying your hardest to avoid looking directly at him. Your mind races to try and find something to say but you come up empty. From the corner of your eye you see Hannibal stand. He stays standing for a moment, looking at your frame. You close your eyes as you hear his shoes begin to move against the floor. A nervous sigh leaves your mouth as you feel his body move closer to your position. He stops a couple steps before you, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Maybe you should just apologize to him. Tell him he was right and that you would figure out a way to get over him but that would be a lie. And if there was one thing you could never do to Hannibal was lie. He knew you too well. He'd be able to call you out immediately. 

Hannibal watched you squirm slightly, observing your nails scrap against your skin as you rubbed your arms nervously. You still hadn't looked at him. He had already begun to miss the eye contact. Hannibal called out your name.

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can, my dear. I want to see your eyes.”

His voice sent shivers down your arms. He was always soft spoken with you but the deepness of his voice as he spoke seemed to have shifted. Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. You have to raise your head a bit to see him properly due to the position you were in. Hannibal stared down at you tenderly. He looked at the doe eyed look that had made its way into your features. A smile spread across his face, a silent way of trying to calm you. Unfortunately it did quite the opposite. His smile seemed to stroke the fire that was already burning in between your legs. You shifted in your seat, trying to conceal your desire for him. Hannibal noticed the way you shift under his gaze. It made him feel powerful. He enjoyed it but he also couldn't help but reach out for you. 

“I can help you. If you ask me to.”

You watched Hannibal sink to his knees, allowing him to be face to face with you. You stare into his eyes, head tilting to the side as you do. He reached out for you, one hand moving to caress your thigh as the other made its way to your face. He’s trying his best to hold on, not wanting to go too fast and scare you off.

From the moment he’d first seen you you’d intrigued him. Despite everything you’d been through you were kind and trusting. Maybe even a little too trusting. It made Hannibal feel protective over you. He saw himself as your knight in shining armour and despite you not knowing it he would do anything you asked of him. 

“Hannibal…”

Your lips part as his name slips through them. It sounds almost like a moan which causes blood to go rushing down to Hannibal's groin.

“Yes dear?”

“I…I hum-”

“It’s okay. Tell me what you want.”

“You. I want you.”

A satisfied sound left Dr Lecter's lips at your confession. You shut your eyes expecting him to finally close the distance between you two but he doesn’t. Instead he rises from the floor and begins to walk away from you. You give him a puzzled look. Had he just been toying with you? Was this some sort of experiment? If it was you were sure you’d failed. But if that was the case why had he given you a hum of approval? 

“Come back to the real world dear. Don’t get stuck inside your own head.”

You forced your brain to focus on what was really happening instead of dwelling on negative thoughts. You’d been exercising your focus ever since your first session with Hannibal and you’d gotten pretty good with coming back to reality. Hannibal could tell by the way you looked at him that you'd managed to silence your mind. He gave you a proud smile.

“That's the fastest you’ve ever focused. Well done dear.”

“Thank you.”

“Come sit with me.” 

You rose from your chair, making your way to the blue loveseat Hannibal was sitting in.  You left a small amount of space between you too. The appropriate amount of space you thought there should be between a patient and their doctor. Hannibal couldn’t help but shake his head.

“Always so formal.”

“You’re one to talk. I don’t think I've ever seen you without a suit on.”

“Do you think about that a lot? Me without a suit I mean.”

“More often than I should if I'm being honest.”

It was strange. Despite everything that had happened moments ago this whole conversation still felt extremely professional. You felt like you were in one of your regular sessions. The only difference was the change of topics and the sitting layout. 

“You can come closer. I won't bite.”

Hannibal paused for a moment, turning his head so that he was looking directly in your eyes.

“Unless you want me to.”

He’d expected you to be shocked, perhaps even to get up from your spot due to his bluntness but to his surprise you didn’t. Actually you did quite the opposite. You began to laugh. He’d never heard the sound of your laugh before but he enjoyed it thoroughly. He’d have to make you laugh more often. 

Once your laughter died down you went back to looking at Hannibal. He watched your eyes shift over his face before you lifted your hand. Your fingers grazed against his cheek as you traced his skin. He never broke eye contact, eyes glued to yours even as you caressed his face. 

“I don’t think you have any idea how handsome you are.”

Your statement caught him off guard.  Your soft touches and loving gaze combined with your tender words had managed to make his head spin. For the first time in a while Hannibal felt his stomach bloom with what he could only describe as butterflies. He’d started off this conversation with the intention of touching on a sore subject, your infatuation with him, and had ended up discovering something about himself. It was unethical for you to want him but what was even worse is that he wanted you too. 

He’d moved so quickly that you hadn’t had time to react. Before you knew it Hannibal's lips were crashing into yours. Your body fell down onto the loveset at the force of Hanibal’s kiss, causing you to find yourself trapped beneath him. Your legs widened on instinct, allowing him to slot his large frame between them. Hannibal’s kiss was rough but caring. He nipped at your lower lip as his hands guided you to wrap your arms around his neck. You did as he asked, fingers digging into his shoulders as he pushed his tongue into your mouth. His mouth may have muffled your moans but it couldn't stop you from bucking up into him. You felt the outline of his dick against your thighs causing you to whine.

Hannibal loved the way you felt against him. He loved how your fingers clung to his hair as he kissed you. He loved the feel of your breasts pressed against his chest. But most of all he loved how desperate you were for him. You decided to wear a dress today. You didn’t  even really known why but you were glad you had. 

And so was Hannibal. 

One of his hands traveled down to your clothed cunt his fingers moving to the edge of your dress. He broke the kiss for a moment, leaning his head down so that he could see what he was doing. You watched him push your dress up allowing him to see your underwear. Hannibal’s head snapped up to look at your face. He gave you a small grin.

“Lovely color.”

“Shut u-hum!”

Hannibal’s fingers moved over your lips spreading them open before beginning to insert a digit inside. Your mouth fell open at the feeling, a broken moan slipping from your lips as it did. Hannibal watched your face fill with ecstasy as he continued to finger you. He’d orignally planned on bending you over his desk and fucking you from behind. But now that he’d seen the angelic look that came over your face as he pleasured you he knew he wanted to watch you cum on his dick. He’d fuck you on your back like a gentleman. 

Well, perhaps not like a gentleman. 

He’s barely done anything and you're already babbling nonsense beneath him. 

“Hannibal i-i fuck- there please there.”

“That feel good?”

“Yes please i wanna… i wanna-”

“Tell me what you want dear.”

“I wanna cum. Please make me cum.”

The way you beg for him makes him think the men you’d been with before hadn't really cared about your pleasure. The thought angers him but it also motivates him to show you how good you can feel. He enters a third digit and you can’t help but latch onto him as you cry out.  You pull his body closer to yours and he lets you. He feels your hardened nipples rub against his clothed chest making him want nothing more but to rip off his shirt. Later though, right now he needs to focus. His hand moves expertly against your pussy thumb moving to caress your clip as his fingers continue to penetrate you. You sigh out his name making him lift his head from where he was looking so that he could stare into your eyes. 

“Hanni… I'm gonna cum.”

“Go on then, cum for me.”

It was as if a verbal command was all that you needed to let loose. The second the words had left Hannibal's lips he felt your cum begin to coat his fingers. He watched your lips part, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you spasmed against him.

What a sight you were.

Hannibal removed his fingers from inside you placing a kiss to your temple before he rose to his feet. Your head lolled to the side, trying to follow him despite your blissed out state. Through blurry vision you saw Hannibal remove his suit jacket placing it carefully on his desk chair. He began unbuttoning his shirt slowly. As he did so he watched you come back to earth. Once you’d gained feeling in your body again you turned over, lifting yourself up so that you could watch Hannibal undress. He felt your eyes on him turning to face you. You gave him a smile which he returned.

“How are you feeling dear?”

“Wonderfull.”

“I’m glad. Tired?”

“Not really. Why?”

Hannibal tugged down his pants in one quick movement allowing his dick to spring free. You watched his member bob for a moment before turning your attention back to his face. 

“Because i’m going to fuck you. Take your dress off for me.”

You tugged at the edge of your dress pulling it off your body with ease. Once you’d gotten it off you threw it to the side before moving to unclasp your bra. Hannibal watched you throw your bra in the pile along with the rest of your clothes. 

“Stand for me dear.”

You did as he asked, hands moving to fidget with each other as he made his way back to you. Hannibal placed his hands on your cheek, cradling your face in them. His eyes trailed over your naked body before he gazed into your eyes once more.

“You are magnificent.”

Your lips latched onto Hannibals in desperation, legs moving backwards  towards the love seat. You crashed down onto a small couch once more tugging Hannibal down with you. You thought maybe he’d scold you for your desperation but by the look in his eyes and the feeling of his hard on against your thigh you could tell he needed this just as much as you did. You spit in your hand moving to stroke Hannibal's dick. He groaned against you, allowing you to caress him for a moment. He rested his face against your neck breathing in your scent as you stroked his member. His teeth grazed against your collarbone making you bite your lip. He sucked at your shoulder enjoying the small gasp that left your lips. Hannibal maneuvered his hand so that he could wrap it around your wrist stopping you from moving. 

“That's enough dear. I want to be inside now. Do you want me inside?”

“Yes Dr Lecter.”

Hannibal grined down at you as you gave him a cheeky smile. Without any warning he plunged into you making your body move backwards at the force. He fucked you with incredible speed, hips moving in a pace you didn’t think was possible. You dug your nails into his back as he continued to ram into you.  His hand moved to your throat, fingers wrapping around it with a gentle squeeze. Once he saw you didn’t flinch away from him he tightened his grip around you, not enough to stop your breathing but enough to give you a bit of a thrill. It was embarrassing how fast you reached your orgasm. Before you even realized you had begun spilling your juices around Hannibal's dick. You’d been so high on your own plesure you only noticed when Hannibal let ou a small “fuck” against your ear. Your body sagged into the loveseat as Hannibal continued to pistol into you. For someone whose job consisted of sitting for most of the time he had a lot of stamina. You drifted off into your head only realizing Hannibal had finished when you felt his body fall into yours. He wrapped his arms around you pulling you as close into his as physically possible. You moved to stroke his hair instinctively, the need to touch him consuming you.

“You did so well for me dear. Rest now.”

Hannibal placed a kiss on your chest. You felt him pull out of you making you feel empty. But you didn’t feel that way for long because before you knew it you had drifted off into sleep. 

You woke up on the loveset. Your lips part as you stretch, a yawn escaping your mouth. You could feel something soft surrounding you causing you to open your eyes. A blanket that hadn’t been there when you had fallen asleep was carefully wrapped around your naked frame. You pushed yourself onto your elbow, rubbing your eyes as you gazed around the room. 

“Sleep well?”

Your head snapped at the sound of his voice. Hannibal was standing on the other side of the room with his back turned to you. He was still completely naked. When you didn’t respond to his question Hannibal turned on his heels to face you. Instinctively your eyes trailed over his naked body, your mind going to last night's events. You moved to look at the clock on the wall. It read 9 o’clock.

“Don’t you have any appointments today?”

“I canceled.”

“Why would you do that?”

“So that we could have breakfast together.”

Hannibal moved away from the table he’d been working on giving you a clear view of the breakfast he’d laid out. You rose from the loveseat moving towards him. Hannibal watched you make your way to him, admiring the beauty of your body as you moved. He could see the hickeys he’d left on your neck last night. The sight pleased him greatly.

You looked over the contents of the table. Everything looked delicious. You shifted your gaze to Hannibal, a smile spreading over your face. You wrapped your arms around his waist giving him a hug. Hannibal's arms wound around your body, his hands moving to hold your head. 

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me. Now sit. Your food is getting cold.”

The two of you sat down and began to eat. The room was quiet as you ate. It was a sort of quiet you’d become accustomed too. The quiet that came when your mind decided it needed to jump into action.

“What are you thinking over there?”

“What are we gonna do? About us, I mean. We clearly crossed a line yesterday.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No, of course not. Do you?”

“No. I do not.”

“Someone could find out. It could ruin your job.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t. It’ll be our little secret. Patient confidentiality and all that.”

“Our secret huh?”

“Is that alright with you?”

“Yeah. It is.”

Yan! Doctor Zhongli is the first doctor you have befriended during your first month as a therapist. You have known him far longer than that. you have known him from your first college days, he is the most respected senior on campus and also the most elegant gentleman and genius upcoming doctor on the field. You only got to know him in your freshman year since he was already graduating that time so You only admire him from afar and nothing more.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli Who actually knows you, the very cute freshman who actually caught his attention all those years ago.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli Who has been supporting you silently and admiring you secretly from afar. [ of course, you didnt know that] He who just anonymously helps you through all your debts and even secretly gifts you here and there but not that obvious that it will catch your attention.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli Who actually is the one who recommended you in this asylum so that he will be able to get close to you. And he will be able to watch you 24/7. He now can touch you, stare at you for longer hours, and of course, he can watch who is interested in you and dispose of the said trash.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli messed up once because in your 4th year of college, you got a boyfriend, and he was furious about it. Of course not to you, but to that TRASH who keeps hanging out with you. Tainting you with his dirty hands, his sweet poor little angel, he is of course gonna save you.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli who secretly slips something into your boyfriend's drink someday and your boyfriend suddenly needs to go to the hospital to get treated. HE who secretly kills your boyfriend and disguises it as a failed operation.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli who meets you [secretly stalks you does not count] finally for the first time and tells you about your boyfriend's progress in health how severe it is and how dangerous his condition is. And even comforted you when you got the sad news of your now-dead boyfriend.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli since then he Occasionally asks you out for tea and even asks you about your personal life.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli is happy to become a friend of yours and it will develop more and more as he will make sure of that.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli When watching you interact with some patients, who become too touchy with you, he keeps an eye on them for your sake. And after that tells you the bad news about their death. [Rip dead patients]

Yan! Doctor Zhongli actually keeps a laboratory hidden behind the walls so that you won't be able to see how gruesome it is. How he tortures those patients because you interact with them more than you interact with him.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli sees you as an angel and even a goddess because of how he worships you secretly. And to those you will taint you may they be innocent or criminal he will sure put them to judgment and persecute them for they are filthy.. no they are not deserving of your love and attention at all. ONLY he is.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli who keeps a hidden room in his house full of your pictures since your freshman years. all SECRETLY taken without any of your consent.

Suggestive content

Yan! Doctor Zhongli who gets turned on whenever you are so close to him. as he smells how sweet and enchanting your perfume is and how good you look close up. how he will never stop eye fucking you in his mind all day long.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli He who jerks off on your pictures and he even has you naked in some of it [of course you will never know about that]

"hnngg~ y/n~ ahhhh~ ngg~ you~ lookngg ahhh~~ so sexy~ my darling~~ "

Yan! Doctor Zhongli who loves it when you sit on his lap and he will surely drag it in his mind for days on end.

"Just ~ ehhahhhh~~ sit ~ gnnn~ how good~ would-ahhh~~ you~ feel-~ like~ nggg~"

Yan! Doctor Zhongli REAAALLLYY LOVES your curves secretly and even would loves to be suffocated by them. Who will surely shamelessly beg if he has to.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli is Jealous whenever you interact with patient 001 because he knows how insane Childe is. He will never stop pestering threatening Childe to stop his obsession with you.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli Who is mad when patient 001 starts to become more and more bold and even shamelessly masturbating infront of you in his cell. of course Yan! Doctor Zhongli knows about it since he watches through the camera of his cell. to make sure you are safe but now he will surely dispose of Childe for good.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli who starts to notice how other patients are also acting strangely affectionate to you..and he DOES NOT like it.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli Who will start to isolate you from other doctors and even patients. even though you act against it since he is your higher-up supervisor you have no choice but to follow.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli will keep you by his side, inside his office, and will not let you meet other patients or even to other doctors.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli who will make you his secretary rather than a therapist to filthy people.

"why not be my personal therapist y/n?" he asked

Yan! Doctor Zhongli who starts to act strange around you and even affectionate at times. And when no end he will also start to show his possessiveness and affection obsession to wards you.

Yan! Doctor Zhongli who locks you up in his office and even has a secret built-in chain on his office just for you and only you to use.

" You will be safe here darling~ don't worry as long as you are here by my side nobody will get hurt~ As long as you are here by my side I will love you forever and spoil you "

you are trying to break of the chain

"Darling dont do that you will hurt yourself" Zhongli sweetly tells you like an adult telling a child that sweets are bad for your teeth.

You glare harder, trying to be intimidating but sadly Zhongli only sees it cute and lovely how you intently stare and observe him.

"darling~ dont make me use drugs to make you pass out~" he brushes his hands on your cheeks grabs it by the side and makes you look deep in eyes.

With his threat, you stop squirming out of him and just fearfully stare at his deep golden eyes. all you can do is nod your head.

"good girl~ such a Good girl for me~ " he kisses your right cheek

"dont worry now darling I'm sure you are going to love it here, forever and ever. I will make sure of it. You will love it here in your new home and with your new husband and we will have children~ how many would you like? this daddy will provide for you darling~"

"So would you please follow orders from your one and only trusted doctor please~? "

Darling why don't you stay~ you have nowhere to go, after all, don't worry he will take care of you, spoil you, make you his and so full of his children.

He will take care of you Darling~ dont worry about anything at all, just think about him and only him after all, he has been waiting for the longest time for this .. FOR YOU to be His and only HIS.

suggestive content

After he takes control of you and chains you to his side forever be reminded that day after day, night after night you will be nothing but exhausted and tired from all his pounding again and again and again. non-stop because he truly has been waiting and dreaming for you to be in front of him stripped and all on show for his eyes to see and to love be in his mercy as you kept begging him about how overstimulated everything is. after all, he likes it when you are acting like a whore in front of him and cock drunk from all he has given for you. BUT he won't stop until he is satisfied and sees everything is in place. an image of you so full of his cum and looks so tasty and hmm~ fuck up~ by him~ don't worry darling he will truly love you and he will enjoy his meal after all his waiting~ so please let him have his meal [you] will you darling~

Ars : I give thanks to people who likes my last post Ms. therapist and my new upcoming ideas about yandere childe and yandere adventurine! I was really shock about reaching 200+ likes THANK YOU VERY MUCH!! and to my new Followers thank you for following! it really means everything to me and to people who reblogs my post THANK YOU VERY MUCH!! For more update this yandere genshin x therapist reader will hopefully be a long project for me since I truly have plenty of ideas in my pocket. if you like to keep following on the updates I have a separate post master list for it named ASYLUM PROJECT

You're not supposed to linger. That’s the rule you give yourself the moment you step into places like this—soft lighting, glass cases, sales associates dressed better than most people at weddings. You’re only here for one thing: earrings. Classic. Timeless. The kind your best friend will wear for decades and think of you every time someone compliments them.

A bridesmaid’s gift. A marriage gift. Something that says I see you without screaming money.

You lean over the display, hands clasped behind your back, studying a pair of delicate diamond studs set in gold. Understated. Elegant. Perfect.

“Those are… quite expensive,” the sales associate says, hovering too close. His smile is tight, professional in a way that isn’t warm. Assessing. “We do have similar options that are more accessible.”

You blink once. Then twice.

“I didn’t ask for similar,” you say calmly.

He chuckles, like you’ve made a joke. “Of course. I just meant—well, sometimes people are surprised at the price point.”

Sometimes people like you, he means. Flare jeans, fitted dress-shirt (with the sleeves rolled up), hair in a messy bun, your heels were usual pumps, toeless and ankle strap, not something like Jimmy Choo or D'Orsay. No visible labels. No performance.

You meet his eyes. “I’m not surprised.”

He tilts his head, unconvinced. “If you’d like, I can show you something a bit more—” he gestures vaguely “—reasonable.”

Before you can respond—before you can decide whether today is the day you let yourself be sharp—

“Sorry,” a voice cuts in smoothly. Male. Warm. Unhurried. “She’s with me.”

The associate straightens immediately, apology already loading. “Oh—sir, I didn’t realize—”

You turn.

And there he is.

Tall. Broad-shouldered without being imposing. Dressed immaculately in that effortless way men only manage when they don’t try to impress anyone—dark trousers, crisp shirt, sleeves rolled just enough to show forearms dusted with dark hair. A watch glints at his wrist, clearly expensive, clearly chosen with intention.

His hair is short to medium—soft curls at the crown that look like they resist control. His nose is big in a way that gives his face character, not arrogance. There’s trimmed stubble along his jaw, a mustache that should look pretentious but somehow doesn’t. His mouth curves easily, like smiling is a habit, not a tactic.

And his eyes—focused. On you.

Not scanning. Not claiming. Just… present.

The associate turns to you now with a different tone entirely. “Of course. My apologies. Shall I wrap the earrings?”

You nod, slowly. “Yes. Thank you.”

The man beside you steps back as if he’s done his job and has no intention of taking up space he didn’t earn. He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t linger. Just waits.

When the associate disappears with the box, you finally look at him fully.

“You didn’t need to do that,” you say.

He smiles, softer now. “I know, miss.”

There’s no defensiveness in it. No savior complex. Just honesty.

“I just wanted to do it... Sounded like it was about to be something stressing.”

That should irritate you.

Instead, it disarms you.

You exhale. “I had it handled.”

“I figured,” he says. “You looked like someone who does... I would have given up the earrings already.”

The associate returns, deferential now, explaining warranties and care instructions like you aren’t suddenly invisible. You pay without comment.

Outside the store, the air feels different—less curated, more real.

“You didn’t have to pretend you knew me,” you say, adjusting the bag in your hand, you still felt a bit stressed, not at him, but at the fact the associate only respected you after the man stood up for you, pretending he was with you.

“I didn’t pretend,” he replies easily. “We kinda look alike even.”

You laugh despite yourself. “That’s dangerously vague.”

He grins. It’s charming in a way that feels unfair. “I’ve been told.”

You walk together for a few steps before realizing neither of you has actually suggested it.

“I’m getting coffee,” he says, nodding toward the café across the street. “No obligation, but i'll be paying.”

You arch a brow. “You’re assuming I’d say yes.”

“I am,” he admits. “But I’d survive being wrong, maybe not, because you seem like you're very endearing.”

You study him for a moment. The confidence isn’t loud. It’s settled. Like he knows who he is and doesn’t need confirmation.

“Fine,” you say. “But I’m not thanking you again.”

“Deal.”

Over coffee, you learn his name is Harry. That he’s recently single, delivered casually but with the careful neutrality of someone who’s done processing and doesn’t want to relive it. He listens when you mention you’re a therapist—really listens—and raises his eyebrows when you clarify.

“Couples,” you say. Then, with a small smile, “And sex therapy.”

That earns a genuine laugh. “That's... Unusual, to say at least.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” he says, stirring his coffee, “I would have never even consider you were a sex therapist.”

You notice the watch then—the one he’d been buying for himself. Ridiculous. Beautiful. Unnecessary.

He doesn’t ask you out.

Not then.

Not even when you stand to leave.

He just says, “It was nice meeting you,” like he means it in a way that doesn’t expire after today.

Three days later, your phone lights up with an unfamiliar number.

This is Harry—from the store. I was wondering if you’d like to get dinner. No pressure. Thought I’d ask properly.

You stare at the screen longer than you should.

And somewhere, quietly, something begins.

The date night

Harry is already there when you arrive.

You notice him before he notices you—not because he’s flashy, but because he looks settled. Like he belongs in the low amber light of Nobu Downtown, like the clean lines and quiet luxury were designed to orbit him rather than impress him.

Black sweater. Soft, fitted, deceptively simple. Dark trousers. No jacket. No tie. Nothing trying too hard. He looks… comfortable. Confident in a way that doesn’t need proof.

And then he looks up.

The smile that spreads across his face isn’t restrained. It’s not calculated. It’s open, immediate, almost relieved.

“Hey,” he says, standing.

You step closer, aware—uncomfortably aware—of the way his eyes track you, not greedily, not crudely, but with the unmistakable focus of a man registering something beautiful and trying not to make it obvious.

He leans in, a casual hug that lasts exactly the right amount of time, his cheek brushing yours as he kisses the air beside it. His hand rests briefly at your upper back—warm, grounding—before he pulls away.

“You look…” He stops, then chuckles quietly. “You look really nice.”

Not stunning. Not wow. Just really nice.

It somehow lands harder.

You smile, composed. “You clean up well yourself.”

“I didn’t even try,” he says, mock-serious. “That’s my whole brand.”

He pulls your chair out for you, smooth and unhurried, and waits until you’re settled before sitting across from you. You clock it all automatically—the manners, the attention, the ease.

Careful, you remind yourself.

You’ve seen this movie before. Eighty percent of the couples you work with start with a man like this. Polished. Attentive. Performative kindness that later curdles into control.

Still… something about Harry feels different. Not softer. Just… quieter. Like he’s not acting for an audience.

The menu conversation is easy. Playful. He explains why he likes Nobu—not because it’s exclusive, but because no one bothers you, because the food speaks for itself, because he doesn’t have to be “on” here.

“I like places that let you disappear a little,” he says.

You nod. “That’s rare for you, I imagine.”

He shrugs. “I’m not as interesting as people think.”

That earns a skeptical look.

Dinner unfolds in that rare, delicious way where conversation doesn’t feel like a series of questions. You talk about books—discover you both love the same obscure author, the kind people either adore or abandon halfway through.

“Museums?” he says. “Yes. Absolutely.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You don’t strike me as a museum guy.”

“I didn’t strike myself as one either,” he admits. “Turns out I just hated history class. Worst grades I ever got.”

You laugh. “Because it was taught badly, or because you were bored?”

“Because they tried to make it about memorizing dates instead of people,” he says. “I care about why things happened.”

That… interests you more than it should.

Wine loosens the edges of the night. The light catches the embroidery of your dress, gold and shadow shifting as you move. You feel him noticing, not staring—tracking the line of your waist, the structured confidence of the silhouette.

At some point, inevitably, he circles back.

“So,” he says, resting his forearms on the table. “Sex therapist.”

You smile, already bracing. “Here it comes.”

“I’m trying to be respectful,” he says, clearly amused. “But I’m also human.”

“Dangerous combination.”

He grins. “Occupational hazard.”

He hesitates—just a beat too long for the question to be purely academic. “Does knowing everyone’s problems make you better in bed? Or does it just ruin sex forever?”

You choke on a laugh. “Wow.”

“Too much?”

“Bold,” you correct. “But not too much.”

His ears pink slightly, betraying the confidence. “I’m genuinely curious.”

You tilt your head, considering him. “It makes you… aware. Of patterns. Of communication. Of what people think they want versus what they actually respond to.”

He hums. “That sounds… dangerous.”

“For whom?”

“For anyone who underestimates you, and for myself... I mean- It’s not every day you find out your date knows more about orgasms than you do.”

You feel the heat then—not between your legs, not yet, but higher. In your chest. In the space between restraint and curiosity.

“Ah yeah?” you ask. “Why the interest for my job?”

He shrugs, casual again, but his eyes stay locked on yours. “I like knowing how things work.”

“Even sex?”

“Especially sex,” he says. Then, softer, “Especially with someone who knows what they’re doing.”

There it is. The flirt. Clean. Controlled. Intimate.

You should shut it down.

Instead, you smile slowly. “You’re very comfortable talking about this for someone who claims to be shy.”

He laughs. “I’m only shy when I care about the answer.”

That lands.

Hard.

The rest of the night hums with that tension—legs brushing under the table, shared glances, the awareness of how close his knee is to yours. He doesn’t touch you again. Not really. And somehow that makes it worse.

When he walks you out, the city feels louder by contrast.

“I had a really good time,” he says simply.

“So did I.”

He doesn’t ask to come up. Doesn’t kiss you. Just another light hug, another kiss to your cheek that feels far too intimate for how innocent it is.

“I’ll text you,” he says.

“I know,” you reply.

You watch him walk away, heart annoyingly unsettled.

Careful, you remind yourself again.

But even as you unlock your door, you already know—

Harry Castillo isn’t like the others.

❝ I don’t know what I’d do without you ❞

Nagito already finds you the most perfect person he has ever laid eyes on. Like his beautiful goddess with the hopeful talent of giving therapy to your peers. An even greater reason to love and basically worship you so passionately.

Nagito, who has many untreated mental/physical illnesses and years worth of trauma from getting kidnapped to having his parents killed in a horrible plane crash, finds you as someone he confide in with his very concerning backstory.

Unlike everyone else on the island who believes he’s completely out of his mind, you’re willing to listen to him ramble on and on about how much he is obsessed with the concept of hope. It makes him so very happy when you’d listen to him. A little too happy…

Anyway, Nagito’s never directly expressed his unconditional feelings for you… at least not yet. He may hint at them here and there, but he’s dreadfully aware of the fact that you’ll never reciprocate feelings for someone as worthless like him. His useless talent is nothing compared to yours. Well, that’s just what he believes.

In Nagito’s deluded, lovesick mind, he firmly believes that without you around, he would probably go insane. Or maybe even end up doing something he’d definitely regret. It’s like your kindness and sympathy for him is his drug.

His strong love would quickly become an unhealthy obsession. Which would become so intense that he’d sometimes catch himself stalking you. Or even watching you sleep from an open window.

There aren’t many, but these are my hc’s for yan!nagito with a therapist y/n! I hope you like them and thank you for the ask!

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