#fem scarecrow

[robot-carl]

Hey it’s my moms. Also once again I refuse to draw a proper background.

[laxi0v0]

Is it hard to convince your crazy farmgirl girlfriend to stop walking around with no shirt or bra on?....yeah same

[michaellangdonswhore]

warnings: again, smut. put me in a fucking hospital.

word count: 5.5k

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You were, by far, Jonathan Crane's least favorite student.

You knew it, and it was complete bullshit. You were always on time, always in every class, and always completed the work. You had always had such good grades in every class, but not with him.

While not giving you the worst grade imaginable, you were never able to get over an A-, which pissed you the fuck off. Obviously, to any other normal student studying psychology, they'd take the A-, but not you.

And again, nothing over an A-. There was the frequent B+, sometimes B, and when you really pissed him off he would go as low as a B-.

You've done everything you could to get him to like you. You would ask questions, clearly put extra effort into the homework, and even applied to laboratory studies that he ran. You hated not being liked.

However, at this point in the year, you had given up on trying. You still did everything you were supposed to do, because you wanted a good grade, but you hadn't bothered participating or showing any interest anymore. You had decided to focus more on your other classes. Due to this, you had been working late into the night, causing you to be exhausted for your 8 AM lectures with Crane.

You were exhausted, trying to pay attention. Your head hurt so much for looking at a screen for so long last night.

Crane is flipping through a slideshow, and you find yourself dozing. It's not that this stuff bored you, you had just already learned it back when you took AP Psych your sophomore year of high school.

You snap back into reality when you hear your name being called.

Crane is singling you out with an annoyed expression on his face. You turn red because everyone, all 400 other people in the class, are staring at you.

"I'm sorry. Is this boring you?" He puts his hands on his hips.

"No-" You begin.

You're stammering. You normally don't have such a rough time with public speaking, but being downright exhausted and being singled out for nearly falling asleep in class is extremely embarrassing.

He pauses for a moment and stares you down.

You feel as if you were naked, as if you were completely exposed to him. You didn't like him looking at you like that, like he was taking into account every imperfection.

"As I was saying..."

Thank god.

He resumes to what he was talking about before and you're more alert, heart pumping full of humiliation. You're taking notes now, typing quickly and probably annoyingly loud (you can tell because he keeps shooting you small glares every time you hit the spacebar).

Finally, the hour is up and he reminds everyone about the homework due that Friday. You collect your stuff and head out the door. You don't realize, but he watches you leave.

Everything you do irks him.

Maybe it was because your first paper challenged his psychological beliefs, or because your intelligence challenged him in general. But literally everything about you pisses him off.

Your loud typing, your questions that challenges his lectures, how you turn everything in on time, how you flawlessly converse with the other students. He is so desperately waiting for you to slip up.

As previously stated, you were putting less effort than before into his class. He picked up on this. You were turning your papers and chapter readings in the last minute, you weren't asking questions, and you were even falling asleep.

You had three days to complete a portion of the assignments given. You completely forgot about it.

Due to your tiredness and your weakening desire to try for the class, you had forgotten to write down the homework in a planner that you always checked daily.

Crane is a quick grader, and usually he always grades your homework first; more specifically, as soon as you turn it in.

You realized you didn't do the work as soon as you woke up that morning for your 8 AM class. You had never ever missed an assignment. Ever. And you had no time to do it and make it to his class on time. You were freaking the fuck out.

It's okay. Maybe he hasn't graded it yet.

But no. He was such a strict grader. He was harsh.

Whatever. You may as well hope for the best.

To distract yourself from your predicament, you talk to the boy who sits next to you in the class. It's just smalltalk about the workload and about an upcoming test.

You stop talking when Crane clears his throat. You shift back in your seat and open your laptop.

"It's a Friday. It's 8 AM," Crane begins. You think this is going to be the introduction of a psychological speech. "For all 399 of you that did your homework last night, go enjoy your Friday morning."

People being looking around and whispering, not sure if this is a trick, but you know it's not.

You're freaking out. Your heart is racing and you cannot believe that he would actually do this to you. Usually teachers will just give you a bad grade and call it that, but to single you out and have the entire class leave except for you is an all time low.

"I'm not messing with you," Crane continues. "Go. You know who you are."

He's looking at you dead in the eye and you stay put as people slowly get up to leave, looking around to make sure others are doing the same. You avoid his gaze, looking at your computer screen.

Soon enough, everyone is out of the large lecture room, some looking back to see the one person who didn't do their work.

Once the door is shut, and everyone is completely out of sight, Crane locks both of the doors and looks up at you.

"Are you deliberately trying to fail my class?" He questions. "I thought you wanted to be outstanding."

You can't find words to say. He scoffs and moves to his desk, shuffling through papers and bringing out a decently large stack to over to you. It feels like hours pass by as he walks up the steps to you and drops them onto your desk.

You look at them, confused.

"This is the homework that was due at midnight." He explains.

"It's never so much..." You stammer. You can feel his hatred burning into your skin.

"It's what's due next Wednesday, Friday, and the following week too. Let's see if you can get this done by.... hm," He checks his watch. "By the end of the period?"

"All of this?" Your eyes widen.

"When's your next class?" He asks.

"You're my only one today." You continue to avoid his eye contact.

"Then you can stay." He says. "Until you finish all the work."

"But-"

"I can't trust that you'll do it." Crane says, taking a step back from you. "You need to complete it. In front of me."

"Please, Professor," You try to defend yourself. "I've been-"

"I can assume what you've been doing, you've almost fallen asleep in my class." He scoffs.

You feel your cheeks heat up with embarrassment over him getting the wrong impression. Does he really think that low of you?

You take a deep breath. You'll just have to deal with this.

"Do you have a pencil?"

He grabs a black pen from his desk and looks up to you, motioning to sit in the front row. Close enough. You swallow your pride and grab your things and the stack of paper, walking down to the seats in the front.

The class itself is an hour, but it took you almost five to complete the amount of homework he gave you. The readings were long, and the quality of work was demanding. You were eager to do well, to prove yourself.

You hate that he hated you.

His eyes were on you the entire time you did your work. The silence was loud, but you pushed through it. You got three weeks of homework done, and proudly put the stack back onto his desk.

"I'll see you Monday, Professor," you smile, then walk away.

After that, you tried harder; harder than you tried compared to every other class you took. You did this, not to get him to like you- but to get back at him with the fact that you knew your shit; you were a good student. You sat in the front, did side research, and spent nights studying for his endless quizzes. And he wanted to fail you to make you stop what you were doing, but you were getting all the answers right and you both knew that. He wouldn't want you taking anything to the next level.

With you in the front, it made it harder for him to not be distracted by you. Mid speech he would find himself locking eyes with you, disrupting his words and leaving him stammering for a brief moment. Ever since you've upped the eye contact, you've gained more control of the situation.

You arrived in class that Wednesday; the situation in which Crane forced you to stay and do two weeks worth of work in front of him occurred around three weeks ago. You're sitting in the front in between two empty seats; no one likes to sit in the front in Crane's class. It's usually only filled with around three to four people. Crane isn't in class yet, which is weird considering he's always there early, before anyone else even gets there. The class is almost about to begin and he's never been late.

Soon enough, it's one minute after the class is supposed to start and he's still not there. You start feeling antsy, wondering where he is.

Finally, he walks in; two minutes after class is supposed to start. So unlike him.

He places his briefcase on the desk and begins setting up his computer while everyone takes out something to take notes with.

"Now, you all know what I specialize in, I hope," He states, not breaking eye contact with his computer.

He specialized in phobias. Apart from dedicating his time to teaching you, he was a therapist mainly for fears.

"I'm sure we all know what exposure therapy is, correct?" He asks. Pretty much the whole class nods in unison. "Good. For those of you not on the same page, it's the type of therapy which someone is exposed to their fear or trauma."

He begins flipping through his slideshow, giving more and more information and lecturing about it, but you can't help but notice it's an almost bias review.

You're left with homework to write a review on some boring documentary on the history of exposure therapy and a pretty long excerpt of the textbook you all were reading.

So, you did your work and followed all of the instructions. You wrote a review on exposure therapy.

The next Monday, you get to class and you sit in the front row. There's a big stack of paper on Crane's desk, and you assuming that you're getting a pop-quiz, but no, that's not the case.

Crane's waiting for everyone with his shoulder rested on the large stack of papers. Once the time hits 8, he begins.

"I printed out all of your outlines," He begins. "I've made some comments and given some feedback. We'll spend the class working on them."

He starts calling out names and one by one, people receive their papers. You're sort of anxious- you left a pretty negative review on exposure therapy, something that he seemed so passionate about.

"Y/N Y/L/N." He says, saying your voice with more of an annoyed tone than the other students. You get up and grab your paper from his hands, tugging harder due to his firm grip. Clearing his throat, he continues calling out the following names. You go back to your seat, nervous to look at the paper. When you sit and look at it, your stomach dropped.

There's nothing on the front page. Then you look at the second.

See me after class.

There is literally nothing but a see me after class.

Oh my god.

What did I do?

Was he offended at all by what was written? Surely, that wasn't your intention... yes, you wanted to piss him off, but you had some respect for him. You didn't want to actually maybe- make him insecure about his work?

Class seemed to take hours to go by; you didn't even know what to do about your paper. He gave no other feedback other than to see him after class. How were you supposed to work with that?

You looked around at your classmates typing away. You're annoyed that he actually helped them.

See me after class.

At least give me feedback on my fucking paper.

Everyone then realized the time and began to pack up. Crane stood up from his desk and took his glasses off.

"Remember, papers are due Friday!" He manages to get out before people start heading out the door.

You put your things in your bag, trying to act out to your classmates as if you were leaving. You felt so embarrassed. You hated how he kept embarrassing you and how he had the power to do that. It was infuriating. You felt him staring at you as you packed your stuff up, moving slower, nervous that he would call you out.

You took your time, though, waiting till everyone was out of the room.

With everyone else there, you felt so confident. You were one of the smart ones and you at least had witnesses, but alone with him? You were completely inferior. He could quite literally ruin your life with a bad grade and could easily tarnish your image, being the head of Arkham and all that.

"I found your paper quite interesting," He says, emphasizing quite.

"I'm sorry-" you begin. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Offend me?" He scoffs. "You think you offended me?"

"I just- I know this is what you do, right?" You stammer.

"I'm interested in your point of view." He says. "About the pain, how it's long term. I'm interested as to why you seem so against it."

You shrug.

"What's your biggest fear, Y/N?" He asks you. "What is it? Failure?"

"I'm not trying to fail."

"Oh, yes, you've proven that." He clicks his tongue. "Sitting in the front, turning things in quickly, wearing shorter skirts. Don't think I don't notice what you're doing."

"What?"

"You write intensely about the struggle that people with PTSD-"

"Wait," you interrupt him. "What did you say?"

"I'm trying to discuss with you what you've written."

"Professor, my clothing choices have nothing to do with me wanting to do well in this class," you say. Now you're offended.

Instead of apologizing, which is what you think any decent person would do, he looks you up and down and scoffs.

"You're wearing tights."

"What?"

"Surely, those must be uncomfortable. You're not wearing those to satisfy yourself," he says.

You grow red, and angry.

He keeps humiliating you.

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"Will you stop?" you groan in frustration. "Why don't you just let me get by like you let everyone else get by? I do everything you ask!"

"I want to know who you're trying to impress."

"I'm not trying to impress anyone," you hiss, finally looking up at his crystal eyes.

You know it's disrespectful, but you turn to walk away and to leave.

"No, no. We're not done."

You ignore him, walking towards the door, but he quickly beats you to it, shutting it and locking you in.

"I said we're not done." He said, completely composed. "Sit."

"I want to leave."

"Your biggest fear is failure, yes?" He questions. You don't nod or shake your head, but it is pretty much true; you hate failing. You need to succeed and be good at everything you do. "Sit. I can very much make that fear come true."

"I do everything," you repeat. "Everything. I do it on time, I'm here always, I'm prepared for everything."

"Can you just fucking-" He pushes you down onto the seat next to his desk. "Sit?"

You weren't expecting him to physically force you to sit down, but you could pick up on the pent up frustration he had with you.

"The off the cut sweater, no bra-" He points out.

You weren't wearing a bra. You were surprised he had picked up on the fact- you could've been wearing a strapless, but no. He was right.

"Are you even wearing underwear?" He whispers.

You're flushed.

What the fuck was going on?

You thought he hated you.

And yeah, you knew he was an attractive man, that's what made this whole thing pretty exciting, but you never thought you would be sat down with him leaning over you saying things like this.

"Let me see."

"Professor?"

He grabs you off the chair and pushes you onto his desk, spreading your legs for you. Everything was moving too quickly; this all felt like a fever dream.

He tugs at the middle of your tights, ripping them open to expose your- and he was right- bare pussy. He lets out a chuckle.

"You're not trying to impress anyone?" He questions, again, peering up at you.

You try moving your thigh to cover yourself, but he forcefully keeps them open.

"Who was that boy you used to sit next to... Tim, is it?"

To be honest, you really didn't know that kids name. He was just someone you sat next to out of habit since you had picked that seat the first day of classes. But you hadn't been sitting with him for weeks at that point.

"Is Tim who you're trying to impress?"

"No!" You argue, still trying to fight the grip of his hand off your thigh. "I told you... I'm not trying to impress anyone."

"Hm." He says, placing two fingers on exactly the right spot of your clit, slowly rubbing in circles. . "You're not even trying to impress me?"

You stay silent, for a brief moment.

"Not in this way..."

But it's past that point now. He's already touching you, rubbing faster, and your exposed pussy is laid out right in front of his face. You're embarrassed and self conscious. He's too close for comfort.

"Yeah?"

The fingers once on your clit are now entering you. You still can't comprehend the situation.

But for him, he was putting you in your place. It was enough of the looks in class, the semi sexual and revealing clothing, the obvious need for his approval and to show him she was as smart- maybe even smarter than him himself.

"Is that why you're letting me touch you like this?" He asks, using the two fingers to pump your pussy.

It's out of your control but you're getting wetter the longer and faster he fingers you. It's beginning to show, beginning to drip down his fingers and onto his wrists. He notices this, then stops and looks.

"Disgusting," He huffs before licking his fingers clean.

"That's disgusting," You repeat at him, glaring a little, but you can't help but want his finger- more of him back inside you. You feel empty, desperate for his hands back on you.

"I don't see you asking me to stop."

You're silent, again.

He smiles, kneeling back down and spreading your legs open again, this time with a more forceful grip. He doesn't use his fingers this time, devouring you with his hot mouth and basically digging in.

He was really good at this. To be fair, no one had ever actually eaten you out, but you had never felt anything like it. He moves his fingers towards you again and fucks you with them as he sucks and licks at your clit. He was freakishly good. You felt something drip down your thigh; you didn't know if you were sweating or if you were fucking leaking. By the sound of it, probably the second one.

He removes his fingers and dives deep into your pussy more, making obscure sounds as he does so. He stops and looks up at you.

"Take your shirt off. I want to see your tits," he demands.

You comply; he's already seen a lot.

"Fuck, they're perfect." He says, now standing over you, playing with them and poking and twisting at your hardened nipple. He's pushing his hardened clothed dick into your bare pussy, giving you some friction has he sucks on your neck and plays with your nipples.

He grabs your hips and flips you over, putting you on your stomach and leaning you over the desk.

He kneels back down, eating your pussy again; he can't get enough of it. He can't get enough of the small whines escaping your throat and the way you leak and how you shake when it feels good- or when the pleasure becomes too much.

He adds his fingers in again, this time three, and you let out a louder, but not too loud, moan than usual.

"Professor-"

"You can take it." He assures you. "You better take it. If you can't take this how can you take my cock?"

You just weren't used to it- you had been fucked, but not for so long. He keeps licking and devouring your clit while pumping in and out of you. You feel so full- on the brink. You feel hot, and god you feel good. You don't even realize it, but you're riding his mouth and his fingers.

"You know, I wasn't going to let you come," Crane begins between breaths, keeping his face close to your pussy so you could still feel him. "But now that I think about it... I want you cum drunk on my dick. I wanna make you cum over and over again until you're a fucking mess."

He goes back to sloppily and messily eating you out again. It was so dirty; the noise, what was leaking out of you. You then felt that familiar feeling and you couldn't stop it; no matter how wrong this felt or how humiliated and exposed you felt, you couldn't stop yourself from moaning like a mess and cumming all over his mouth.

You needed a second to recover, but he stood up and grinded his clothed dick against you. You weren't ready for the friction, wincing over the contact with you sensitive clit. He grabbed your neck and pulls your back to him, kissing you, continuing to grind.

He unbuttons his pants and undoes his boxers, his large thick cock springing out, begging to be touched. He pushes one of your legs up onto the desk to give him better access to you.

"You're fucking soaked," He says as he teases himself some more, collecting what's came out of you as some lubricant.

He keeps rubbing your clit and the outside with his dick, back and forth. It feels good, but it's not enough. He pushes harder with his dick on your clit, continuing to hump you.

"Professor, please," you look back at him, trying to guilt him into giving in and fucking you, but it's not that easy.

"Shut up, and let me take my time." He says. He continues this for a little, before getting a new idea. "I want you to cum on my cock without me fucking you."

"What?"

He pulls you towards him then on his lap on the chair next to his desk.

"Grind on it." He demands, holding you in place by your hips. "Get it soaked."

You hesitate, but he's impatient. He pushes you down and moves your hips for you until you begin to do it with him. You grind your pussy against his cock, stimulating your clit once more. It didn't feel as good as his mouth, and god it probably didn't feel as good as his dick would feel inside you, but it felt good. And you were so fucking horny, you were on the brink of cumming again.

"Yeah, yeah, you got it," he praised you, rocking your hips back and forth. He digs his nails into your hips, definitely leaving some cuts in your skin, but you didn't care. You were so close. He begins to bounce up, pretending to thrust into you, adding to your pleasure. "That's it, you- oh fuck, yes, cum on my fucking dick."

You're dripping onto him as you ride out your high, clenching around nothing. It seems to last for a while, wrapped up in all the pleasure combined with his dirty talk.

He angles his cock towards your entrance and pushes into you- he feels hot and he's sensitive due to teasing himself. But no- he doesn't want to cum yet. He wants to put you in your fucking place. And even if he does cum, he has no issue continuing and even fucking a baby into you. Then, you'd have to walk around with the shame.

He gently picks you up, but then harshly slams you up and down repeatedly onto his cock. You've had no time to readjust after cumming a second time, and you were extremely sensitive.

"Slower, professor, please," You cry, burying your face into his shoulder. "It hurts..."

"Shut the fuck up."

He grabs you by the neck and pounds up into you, rubbing your clit as well to add to the sensation.

Yes, it feels good, but it's so overwhelming you can't help but tear up. Crane notices this and it goes straight to his head.

"Are you fucking crying?" He scoffs. "Fucking crying for me?"

He picks you up, keeping you firmly attached to his dick, and throws you over the desk again. He's fucking you deeper and at an animalistic pace; like he fucking needs this.

"Keep crying for me. Keep fucking crying."

He harshly grips your tits, twisting your nipple in the process.

"Fucking perfect tits, perfect pussy, perfect everything. You fucking strive for perfection- but you're letting me fucking ruin you. Is this how far you'd go for a good grade?" He laughs, fingers deep in your clit.

You can only moan in response, but this doesn't satisfy him.

"Fucking answer me."

"Yes," you cry out.

"Yeah, you're just a fucking whore who'd sleep her way to the top if that's what it took." He says, tugging your hair back, your sweaty bodies pressed closer together.

His words are filthy, but you're fucking cumming again.

He's laughing, mocking you for doing so.

"You fucking like being treated like a bitch, don't you?" He says, fucking you through your third orgasm. You don't know how he's not tired. As you expect, he doesn't give you a fucking break. You're worn out at this point; almost numb.

"Professor, I don't know-"

"You don't know if you can keep going?" He questions. "Yeah, you can. I'll fucking make you keep going. What was that... your third orgasm? Let me see if I can double that."

"Professor..."

"I'll stop when you give me three more."

You feel like you're going to pass out; the pleasure had become too much, but you were so fucking sensitive that a fourth one had come quickly. Your pussy was so swollen and red, but he had not gotten off of you.

"You're fucking..." He brings you back to the chair and places you on top of him. "You're fucking leaking all over me, fucking hell. So wet... do you hear yourself?"

You could hear yourself. It was disgusting. It was filthy.

"Aren't you embarrassed?" He asks. He slows down his pace, and you know he's teasing you. "Embarrassed that you're whoring yourself out to me like this? To a professor that so clearly disliked you? This is what you do for my approval."

He slows his pace some more.

"Would you do this for any other professor, Y/N? Let them fuck your pussy till you have nothing left to give? Bounce on their cock the way you do for me?"

"No, professor," you shake your head, trying to bounce faster but he keeps your hips in place, restricting you. He had succeeded- made you cum drunk and fucked you stupid, but this wasn't enough. He needed more. "No, no, only you. I'd only do this for you."

You're squirming around on his dick. He's stopped moving at this point, just staying in you.

"Stop fucking moving around. Don't you want to impress me?"

"Have I not?" You begin to regain some of your strength with this somewhat of a break he was giving you. "Have I not impressed you, professor?"

You give him puppy eyes as you gain some control of the situation, his grip loosing and you bouncing on his cock at a pace you like.

"I want to impress you, professor," you say seductively. "I want to- fuck!"

You start chasing your high again, you didn't even realize that you'd ever be able to cum this many times.

"Fuck!" You repeat. Crane is letting you take control, enjoying the show of you riding his cock, using him for your pleasure. "Do you like this, professor? Do you like when I fucking bounce on your dick like this?"

You had never heard yourself like this, or ever expected to talk like this. You had never felt so confident.

"Have you imagined this professor?" You continue. He's obviously at a loss for words, not expecting this side of you. "Have you imagined fucking me? Have you imagined bending me over your desk and eating me out till I came all over your face? My tits? Putting me in my fucking place?"

His hands found your hips again and he's helping you ride his cock. He's loving the words coming from your mouth.

"God, I think you wanted this more than I did," you laugh. You're so close. You wanted him to talk, but his reactions to your words were enough for you. "Make me cum again, professor, please. I- fuck!"

He's pushing into you and bouncing you up and down quickly and you're riding out your fifth orgasm.

He pulls you off of him and lays you out on the desk again, licking up your sore pussy. He hums while doing this, telling you how you taste so good. You're so- so sensitive, though, and you can't help but cumming on his tongue again not even seconds later, letting out a string of incoherent words.

That's six.

You look at him, but he's positioning himself in you.

"You said six-"

"I say a lot of things. I want you to cum on my cock again." He says, kissing your neck. "Last time. I promise."

He pumps into you, at a softer, but still quick pace. You feel so incredibly numb, but he still manages to work you up quickly while fondling your breasts and pressing hot kisses into your neck.

"Ah- fuck." He pants, fucking himself into you. "Fuck... gonna cum in you. Want you to fucking carry me around for the rest of the fucking day."

You don't object- your hearing was probably a little impaired at this point.

"Yeah, you want that, don't you. It's like a fucking award to you."

He's holding you closer now. You both are so sweaty and sticky.

You're about to cum again, but he grabs your throat tightly.

"Fucking wait for me. Don't be impatient."

As hard as it is, you listen to him. He speeds up, becoming sloppy before he cries, "Fuck, cum! Cum all over my fucking- ahhh, yes, fuck."

He shoots hot loads into you as you clench around him, milking more out of him. He doesn't stop, continuing to fuck you until every last bit of his seed has marked you. Even after he's done, he gets a few more strokes in before he pulls out, showing the combination of you and him leaking out of your pussy. He pushes you onto the floor and presents his dick in front of him.

"Clean it."

You obey, wrapping your mouth on his cock and licking away the filth that the two of you made. He groans and pulls you off of him.

"You'll get me hard again." He says.

He puts all his clothes back on and hands you your sweater. Your nipples are hard, poking through them now.

"I look forward to your next draft of your review." Crane says calmly, as if what just happened didn't happen.

"You- um..." you stammer, brushing your fingers through your hair. "You didn't give me any notes."

"I didn't?" He questioned. You shook your head. "Well, stay again after class next session. I'll go over it, personally, with you."

"Oh." You blush. "This wasn't a one time thing?"

"Y/N..." Crane looks at the floor. "I'm your professor."

You felt awkward. Of course it was a one time thing; how could it not be?

But then he looks back up at you.

"You don't want to fail my class, do you?"

[feninina]

𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐞 ༉‧₊˚.⁀➷

therapist! jonathan crane x female reader.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: when your father decided that you needed therapy, taking you to his dear friend dr. crane to treat and help you, you thought it wouldn't work at all, but it turned out to be everything you needed.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: SMUT(minors dni!!), noncon/dubcon, depression, cursing, crane is a mysoginistic prick, using therapy for unhinged reasons, smut, hair pulling, jonathan just being an creep, choking AND strangulation, dacryphilia, hitting, unprotected sex (safe sex its great sex!!), breeding kink, forced breeding, power dynamics, i think crane should be a warning himself, reader being borderline stupid and naive. also this has a lot of backstory i’m so sorry i got carried away lol.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 7.1K

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: omg my first fic on here!! this is also my first work on english and my first smut ever so i apologise in advance for any mistake!! i hope y'all enjoy it anyways ahahahaha live laugh love jonathan crane👏🏻 feedback its very appreciated so i can improve and continue to publish better works, anyways enjoyyyy 💓

𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁

It was awkward, to say the least.

You were sitting across from Doctor Crane in the couch at your dad's house, legs crossed as you watched him write on his clipboard, something about it making you feel anxious, a little nauseous, even.

This wasn't your first session, you started doing this four months ago, not long after your divorce that caused you to fall into a spiral of sadness and misery. Your failed— and short marriage was the main reason you started taking therapy with your dad's friend, the chief of Arkham, Jonathan Crane, and still, you couldn't bring yourself to talk about it.

He was patient, you told him several times that he was a saint. Regardless, before you started with the sessions, he explained to your dad that he didn't really do this; therapy really wasn't his strong suit, but for a friend, a desperate one, he would gladly do it.

Your dad came to him, offering a big stack of money if he would talk to his little girl, make her recover her once joyful personality, like you had one to begin with. Jonathan really couldn't say no, and not really because of the money, he had other reasons in mind, unethical reasons.

And there you were now. You were quick to open up to him, eager to talk, to be listened and he, on the other hand, was ready to listen, to give you advice, console you and help you get through the sorrow that was following you since you were young, playing the role of your knight in shinning armor.

"I can't believe you don't actually do this" you said once, sniffling your nose with a handkerchief he gave you as he examined you with a warm gaze, an empathetic grin on his face. "You're really helping me"

Jonathan was quick to wave his hand and tell you that it wasn't a big deal, that he was just doing his job, and if you weren't so innocent, so stupid, you would have noticed the mischievous sparkle that flickered in his eyes for a split second.

You were landing right in the palm of his hand.

Not even thirty minutes into the first session you told him everything about your past; every little thing you thought he needed to know to treat you. And you were slightly right; he did need to know those things, but not to treat you, just to manipulate you and mold your little brain into what he was envisioning for you and your future together.

Truth was, you hated everything about your life, regardless of the fact that you had everything. That's what you've been told since you were a child; a big house, a lot of money, maids taking care of you so you wouldn't have to move a finger and just sit pretty and relax inside the walls of the huge mansion that confined you since you could recall.

You have everything. That was bullshit.

Sometimes, you couldn't help but think that people told you that out of pity, like they knew how miserable you felt, but not daring to say a word about it. Your dad was a powerful man, and you were aware of that, ever since you were born, he had bussines with Falcone and you knew that people feared him, he practically ruled Gotham, that lifeless and dangerous city that you had to live in.

You have everything. You were tired of that sentence. You didn't care at all about these nice things surrounding you, those dresses in your closet, those diamonds in your jeweler, that fancy car you owned since your eighteenth birthday, no, that was useless in your eyes, because all you really wanted, was love.

It was a lonely life; you learned how to do everything by yourself, how to comb your hair, how to deal with your period when it first came, how to dress up properly and do your makeup. You didn't even had to learn about boy problems because there weren't any boys in your life, you were homeschooled. So you were quiet, not really having to talk at all, there was nobody to talk to.

And since Jonathan was the only person you were talking to at the moment, you started to feel like you loved him, the idea sitting right with you without you even knowing it, thinking that this was how therapy normally went.

Loneliness striked your life at a young age; your mother died from a strange disease when you were eight, leaving you with a shattered heart thad bled everytime you walked past her bedroom, or saw a picture of her. You practically watched her die, a witness of how she lost her strength, how her once beautiful skin turned pale and yellow, and lost every little spark within herself, and the worst part was that all the money you had, couldn't even help her.

It was a deep wound that you carried with yourself, with nobody to talk about it.

Your father spent his days locked up in his office, and when he wasn't there, he was out in the city doing unthinkable things that you didn't even wanted to know about, leaving you on your own, having to fill all of those silent and empty rooms by yourself, with nobody to laugh with, nobody to hold you and see you grow. He wasn't really around, working all the time, too busy to know that his daughter didn't seem to care about all the expensive stuff he bought for her, not even taking the time to have dinner with you or hold a simple conversation. He loved you, you knew that, he just wasn't the type to show his affection with words or actions, but with gifts. And you hated everything about it.

But now, Jonathan was there, making you feel listened, finally saving you from falling into loneliness again. Your whole life, you thought you had a horrible sickness, that you were doomed to this awful destiny of sorrow and silence, but now, with his sweet words and good company, you couldn't be more than relieved.

You wished sometimes that you met him earlier, that this whole therapy stuff started before, and you even confessed it to him. And it irked him a little, that you didn't even remember how you two really met each other, hiding his annoyance with a warm smile.

Some months ago, your father started to brought you to parties he attended, parties were all the corrupts scumbags from Gotham reunited and celebrated how they were dragging the city to the gates of hell on their benefit, and you couldn't be more happy to attend them. You knew he was bringing you because he recently broke up with the young girl he carried with him— that was most likely your age, and needed a pretty thing to hang of his arm and take care of the people he didn't feel like talking to.

So you accepted this new life, eating up this role of socialite like it was made for you.

It was a chance to know people, to speak and make new friends, but you learned quickly that those people weren't there for that, and picked up on how mostly of the people who talked to you just wanted to climb up the social ladder and gain some extra points from your father.

He, even, introduced you to a couple of people that seemed close to your age, and you chatted with them, feeling extremely anxious because you weren't used to this, so it was weird to them seeing such a pretty woman, with your status and fortune, acting so shy and quiet in a place that your dad practically owned.

After a couple of hours, you learned the agenda. All you had to do was put on a fake smile, get them off your father's shoulders and pretend you were very interested in what they had to say, hiding your uncomfortable expression behind your glass of champagne, promising them that you would arrange a reunion with your father someday.

One of those nights, your father introduced you to someone, someone who you didn't pay much attention because he seemed to be uninterested too, only being there for the sake of his job.

"Pretty girl, come here" your father said, a cheerful tone of voice as grabbed you by the shoulder to get your attention, snapping you out of your train of thoughts. "I want you to meet my friend, Doctor Crane"

You looked at the man in front of your dad, his pale blue eyes already sizing you up discretely, looking at you up and down in a way that didn't go unnoticed by you, a shiver running down your spine as his eyes finally locked with yours.

You couldn't help but feel small under his gaze, your glass now forgotten in your left hand, the right one extended to take his and stretch it for a quick second, returning to your first position, his expression remaining serious.

"Nice to meet you" he spoke, his voice sounding like velvet in your eyes, not quite sensing the undertone behind it. "Your father told me wonders about you"

You grin, the irony of that sentence making you laugh a little, what wonders could your father know about you? But you kept your composure, the conversation not going any further, and you forgot about him fast enough, when in another of those annoying parties you met the love of your life — or so you thought.

That same night, when you went back home, you were thinking about spending the rest of your life with some guy that flirted with you at the bar, and Jonathan, prayed to whatever thing listening to him up there, that crossed your path with his again.

He practically obsessed with you, because it felt right. You were young, beautiful, wealthy and had a last name that could open even more doors for him, getting tired of saving Falcone's man of going to jail; you were an opportunity, tied to a nice pair of legs.

After a few weeks of stalking, it kinda broke his heart that naive as he expected you, you got married to the guy from the party; he told you then his name was Lewis, and now you doubted it that was even true.

You were finally going to get what you always wished for, a family, love. And it was perfect. Everything was perfect.

It was a dream that you were living in. A dream that shattered in front of you no longer than three months after.

After you contracted married with this man, you took care of the house, now learning all of these housewife duties that you didn't know anything about, but making your best effort to please him, to be the perfect woman ever created, departing from your old life and habits and adjusting them to his own.

You couldn't be more happy, regardless of your bad cooking, the bad-swiped floor and the half-done bed that welcomed you both every night, you finally had love.

It lasted three months. Your wholesome real life fantasy of a marriage destroyed when you found out, accidentally, that this man was just an employee of your dad, willing to get a promotion if he married you. At that moment, you didn't know who you hated more, if the bastard, or your dad who was literally bribing the bastard to love you.

But your dad only wanted to make you happy, tho.

You were embarrassed, not quite sure of how to tell this to Jonathan, because after all, he was there for you, just for the money your dad was paying him. Your cursed the day your dad became rich, because all of it was making you miserable and it felt like it wasn't going to stop.

At this point, a feeling of despite against you was growing within Jonathan, after a few weeks treating you, he quickly remembered why he didn’t chose this path of career, but remembering that he was there because of a major reason; a reason more important than your helpless cries for attention.

He was sick of you, all you ever did was complain in the commodity of your million dollar house, unaware that there were more important problems in the world. It isn’t completely your fault, Jonathan thought one day, you were just an ungrateful brat, and his work was to tame you, and he planned to do just that today.

"So," he startled you, narrowing his eyebrows, an expression in his face that you could only understand as concern. "remember, if you don't speak, I can't help you".

You chuckle and shift your weight in the chair, immediately feeling your eyes fill up with tears as you confronted the fact that you had to speak about it, right now. He was quick to offer you his handkerchief, as he always did and with shaky hands you took it, sniffling onto it, closing your eyes as you felt your whole body shake with each one of your cries.

You felt Jonathan put his hand on your knee, softy caressing the skin that his thumb could reach, opening your eyes and looking at his, Jonathan welcoming you with a pitying look. You put the tissue aside, both him being so close and his scent impregnated on the piece of fabric making you feel a little giddy, a little confused.

Why was your heart racing so much? He was your therapist, here to talk about your former husband.

Jonathan couldn't help but grin a little, knowing he was maybe breaking a rule here, touching you like this, being so close. He couldn't care less, after all, he wasn't here listening to you cry and bitch about your whole life for the sake of your well-being. He was here because he wanted you to break and get on your knees to him. Figuratively and literally.

"It's so embarrassing" you struggled to spit out "He didn't even love me, Doctor"

He hummed, dragging his chair so he was a little closer to you, you looked at him through your teary lashes and tried to keep it together, this wasn't the first time you cried in front of him, but the reason itself was enough to make you feel full of shame.

He didn't say anything, this being a motivation for you to continue.

"My dad was paying him" you murmured, cleaning the mascara off your cheeks. "It was all a lie"

The whole situation was absurd, what happened to you still felt like a sick joke they were playing on you, your dad and Lewis, probably waiting for the perfect moment to tell you the truth.

But that wasn't going to happen, right now the only thing that felt true to you was Jonathan. He set you up to that, and you blindly fell on his silly trap.

"Poor thing" he cooed you, moving his hand a little further up your thigh, noticing the goosebumps on your skin. A mastermind, that's how he felt. "How could they?"

That was all the mendacity he fed you with since you started seeing him, making you believe he was actually empathizing with you, full of loathe against everyone who hurt you, who dared to leave you alone, but now he was there, his task being to pretend to care.

"It's pathetic" you blurted out, leaning into his touch when his prying hand went up to your cheek. You really couldn't say anything more, crying against his hand like it was something you did every monday morning. "I'm so sad. I don't know what to do"

He shook his face, your eyes meeting his with a confused expression, black stained tears dropping on your lap and wetting his hand before he returned it and looked over his clipboard, pretending to think.

You were so vulnerable, ready for him to destroy. He finally got you where he wanted. He then explained you that you were so sad that it made you unaware of a lot of things, blinded by your own pity against yourself that every door that opened, you closed. It all came down to a thing; you needed a diagnosis.

He gave you a moment to process the information, ready to continue with his plan.

"Actually," he started, his tone now more firm, more strict, the one he used when you were approaching the end of the session. On the last one, he recommended you to touch yourself, to liberate oxytocin on your brain or something you really didn't understood.

It was almost evil from his side, he knew that your only thought while doing it would he him ordering you to do so.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such awful news, Y/N" he stated, making your heart skip a beat. "But I think you're sick"

You nearly gasped, the air got stuck in your throat, more tears gathering in your eyes. You lifted one of your hands to your chest, a million thoughts crossing your head as Jonathan's clever eyes examined your expression.

Bingo.

"Sick" you repeated after a moment, almost like you were making peace with the revelation. "How sick?"

It was an innocent question, your tone of voice shaking as your inferior lip trembled, holding it with your teeth in an attempt to not burst into tears again, your whole body feeling like it was going to break into a million peaces by how much you were shaking in the couch.

Jonathan was quick, standing from the chair he was on and taking a seat by your side, his hand swiftly placing in your knee. You looked at him confused, he never got this close, maybe your sickness was serious.

"What am I, Doctor?" you whispered, your eyes showing him a hint of fear that made him finally lose all his faked professionalism. "Depressed? Crazy?"

Both of you were dying of anticipation now; meanwhile you feared that you were going to get admitted to Arkham, Jonathan was seeing the golden ticket to the best future he could ever achieve, and all thanks to you.

"Oh, no, no" he purred, his hand making its way up to your thigh. "You're sick, not crazy"

You parted your lips as his hand moved more further, not really sure of what was happening, not daring to stop him, too scared of your mental health to think about anything else, not helping the way your legs started to part too.

A sudden gasp left your lips as his hand squeezed your tight, a smile you never saw on him appearing on his face. The crying stopped a moment ago, the surprise of having him so close making you go a little numb.

"I know what a girl like you needs" he said, almost sternly, like his hand wasn't centimeters away from your panties.

Was in that moment, that you knew this wasn’t about therapy anymore.

"You think so?" you whispered, your voice still shaky, but now for a whole different reason. "And what is it, Doctor?"

"To be fucked stupid"

It almost shocked you how he said that as it was a normal diagnosis, like he gave you a name of a medicine you could go and buy at any drugstore in town. You gulped and didn't move when his grip tightened on your leg, your face growing red.

A loud gasp escaped your lips when at your lack of response, Jonathan grabbed you hard by the jaw and forced you to look at him. Your eyes glistened with nothing but fear, your brows narrowing as you mumbled something that he really couldn't understand, and it wasn't like he wanted to.

"You're sick, Y/N" he repeated, more harshly this time, his hand moving your head as he spoke. "And I'm going to cure you"

He let go of your face to clasp his lips against yours, a kiss very far away from sweet, his mouth moving roughly against yours. You never had been kissed like this, so you tried to play it along, trying to show him some of the love you felt for him, that you thought you owed him.

But he didn't care if you felt loved during the kiss, trying to assert the dominance he held upon you, his hand now holding firmly the back of you neck to prevent you from pulling away.

It was a mess; your teeth clashed, drool was dripping from your chin as his tongue explored every space of your mouth, not leaving anywhere of it untouched. Your movements were a little stiff, unsure of what to do, trying to provide the sweetness that he lacked.

His hand moved to your the front of your neck and squeezed it a little, making you yelp in surprise, the sound muffled by his mouth. You tried to get away from the kiss, confused about his rough actions against you, a little scared of him even, almost like you didn’t trust him every little part of your brain in this same couch for the last couple of months.

But then it clicked on your foggy brain, he knew you, perfectly— you only knew his name, you didn’t know what this man was capable of.

You could only move a few centimeters away from his hungry mouth, your lips parted as tears welled in your eyes from the pressure he was applying to your neck.

“Stop” you managed to stutter, your breath mixing with his. “I can’t- breathe”

You doubted that he listened to you, your voice not coming out of your throat at all and getting stuck in your larynx, your voice-box completely muffled by his strong grip.

“Shut up, brat” he spitted, his tone sounding full of abhor, your eyes wide open as you felt the air leaving your body and your lungs starting to burn. “Always getting what you want”

You weakly placed one of your hands around his wrist, another attempt of gasp elicited from your agape mouth as he lifted his other hand and choked you with both, something in your dizzy mind telling you that he was possessed.

“Crying all the time- complaining” he continued, not caring if you were listening, the suffocation being to much to bare now. “So selfish”

And maybe he was.

Your brain was filled with fear, wondering how it all went from a kiss to this— almost getting killed by your therapist in your couch. You opened your eyes to meet his, feeling like your chest was on fire as there wasn’t any air flowing in, seeing how the blue of Jonathan’s eyes has darkened and his lips were parted as well, the muscles of his jaw twitching as he choked you to death.

Your eyebrows narrowed together in terror as you noticed that familiar tingly sensation in your lower belly and your thighs clenching together. Maybe it was something about him exercising this power over you, how you felt so feeble under his touch, that was probably leaving bruises on your neck for you to carry and show around what he was making you do it.

You didn’t have enough time to think about it, you were practically dying.

“And you are enjoying this?” he said with an amused tone, probably noticing how your thighs fragily contracted against one another.

You felt yourself slowly lose your consciousness when finally the relief came and the air started to flow again to your desperate lungs, taking long and loud puffs of air when his hand let go of your neck. Your erratic breath was interrupted by a loud moan that escaped you when Crane yanked you by your hair and shoved you to the floor.

He was quick yo position you between his legs, looking at you through his unfixed glasses, giving you a twisted smile that made you quiver in fear, that growing wet patch on your panties making you feel like a really sick girl.

“Doctor-” you mumbled, closing your eyes as he pulled your hair, withdrawing a mewl off your mouth. “Hurts”

“You talk when I tell you to talk” he snickered, adjusting the way his fingers gripped your hair. You thought that he might just pull out the strand he was tugging. “I’m sick of your whining”

You felt more tears well up in your eyes; not sure if it was from the pain in your head or how his words felt like a knife that landed right on your heart. You were confused, sad, angry— a little hot, too.

“I pay you yo listen to me” you said, your voice so shaky you were lucky he could understand you. You wished he didn’t understand you.

Another sort of moan left your lips as a hard slap made a landing in your cheek, your face turned to the side because of the impact. You closed your eyes in disbelief, a cry coming out as you felt helpless, wondering if this was some exposure therapy he was experimenting on you.

He repeated himself, instructing you to talk only when you were told so, nodding in defeat as you accepted whatever this was and continued to play along with Jonathan’s sick fantasy of controlling you, without even knowing it.

You looked at him with nothing but inquietude, the look in his eyes giving you the foreboding that nothing good was about to happen now, frightened of what we would do to you.

He didn’t show any hints of letting go of your hair anytime soon, just holding it firmly to keep you looking at him through your heavy lashes, a wicked grin on his smug face.

“Let’s give that whining mouth of yours a good use” he said, and you gulped, understanding what he wanted and quivering in fear, not really understanding why the sticky sensation between your legs grew.

“Undo my pants” he commanded, and you stayed still, your eyes not leaving his even when another slap landed on your tear-wet face. “Do as you’re told, brat. This might be your only cure”

You couldn’t help but sob a little, his tone sounding so definitive, so professional. Your trembling hands reached his belt and unbuckling it ungracefully, taking longer than he expected, you heard him chuckle as you unbuttoned his pants afterwards, then putting your hands back in front of your lap.

“C’mon” he pulled your hair again, causing you to moan in pain. “Don’t make me tell you what to do”

You looked at him again in nothing but shame, trying to resist to this humiliating request of his, but complying it anyways. He said he was going to cure you, but now you doubted it, right now, you only wanted this to be over.

With a last look at his eyes you returned your attention to the growing bulge in his slacks, the shame in your brain being present at all times, not quite helping the way your eyes were fixated on his clothed member. You were quick to free him out after your staring earned you a other harsh pull of hair, your lips turned into a line when his cock slapped his abdomen, causing his dress shirt to wrinkle a little.

“Go on, Y/N” he encouraged you, as you looked at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him for mercy, knowing that even if you screamed it at him, he just wouldn’t listen. “This isn’t about what you want, anymore. Is about what you need”

A tear slid from your eyes and disappeared down your cheek when his free hand placed the tip of his hard cock on your parted lips, gesturing you to take it and not waste more of his time— more than you already did.

“Open up, whore” he said under his breath, using your hair as a device to move your head and help you shove his length down your throat. You complied, the tears in your eyes now soaking in you cheeks by the effort that you were making trying to welcome his thick shaft down your mouth.

You were sure you scratched him with your teeth a few times as he bobbed your head up and down with his strong hand, manhandling you without care for his own pleasure. You placed your hands on his knees, trying not to gag, but when his tip touched the bottom of your throat, you couldn’t help it.

You cried as you felt suffocated again, now for a whole different reason, a more humiliating one, and you almost wished he killed you then. His hips buckled everytime your lips reached the base of his cock, the room filled with the sounds of your mouth and saliva coating his shaft and the soft moans that came out of his poisoned lips.

“Take it, whore” he said, his voice now husky and distorted by the pleasure, the pain that your teeth accidentally inflicted on him turning him even more. “God- you are horrible at this”

He chuckled between heavy breaths, pulling you by the hair and releasing his cock from your mouth, a vulgar pop filling both of your ears at the sudden separation of your lips and his member. Your eyes looked at the floor, feeling such a shame that the mere thought of meeting his face with your fearful face made you cringe, the pulsating pain on the back of your head making you dizzy.

“You can’t suck dick properly” he said, his tone sounding like he was making fun of you. “No wonder why your husband left you. You’re just pathetic”

You finally rose up your face to look at that insufferable smile of his, ignoring the way his cock was still hanging there in front of you, almost brushing your nose. His fingers finally untangled from your hair and giving you some sort of solace, the consolation that this traumatic session was over.

Maybe the remedy was worse than the sickness itself.

“Jonathan, stop it, plea-”

Your imploration was completely ignored, followed by another slap on your wet cheek that made you cry even more, not understanding how this man could’ve been the same one who made you felt loved and finally listened. You fell for a lie once again.

“Get on the couch” he simply said, his words were like a bucket of cold water fell on you. “Stop the bitching, don’t want to hear it”

“And I’m your doctor. Not Jonathan” he reminded you, making you feel even more ashamed.

You did as he told, again, half-standing from the floor and sitting next to him, trying to take as much space from him as you could before he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, your face growing red as his face was now centimeters away from yours.

“You look so beautiful when you cry” he whispered, caressing your face but trying to nor wipe the tears away, almost like he was admiring you. It made you melt into his touch, glad that his kind demeanor was there again. Even if his words made you cringe— and the fact that his cock was still out, you felt your heart grew warmer by the way he tenderly touched you.

It didn’t last much longer, when his lips twitched into a malicious smile and went down to nibble your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses around the bruised skin and bitting where his fingers hurt you previously, making your fingers wrap on his hair and cry for mercy, trying for him to stop hurting you this much.

“Shut up, stupid brat” he repeated that same insult, making you swallow your cries, closing your eyes in disbelief as he continued to injure your already suffering skin.

You arched your back in surprise when all of the sudden his hands reached for your breasts, groping your tits like his life depending on it, stimulating you through the fabric of your shirt, but all you felt was fear and anger, impotence flowing through your veins because you just couldn’t scream and push him away, fear was freezing you on the spot.

The worst part? You maybe didn’t wanted to push him away. Because maybe if he gets what he wants now you would be cured and he’ll be back to normal, returning you the sweet Doctor Crane that you met once, not this monster that was groping you like a piece of meat.

He clicked his tongue and dropped both of his hands to spread your legs open, forcing your back to drop onto the hand rester of the couch. You looked at him with big eyes, your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest and scream to Jonathan that enough was enough, you just couldn’t take any of this anymore.

But your heart stayed there, between your lungs that seemed incapable to hold any air, making your breathing erratic. So nobody screamed Jonathan to stop, and he continued with his profanation against your persona— your dignity.

He bit his lip at the sight of your fucked-up face, your legs open as it showed him the dark patch on your baby blue panties, darting his eyes from your half-exposed crotch to your teary eyes.

“God, keep crying and I might come now” he growled, lowering his face to meet your pussy, kissing it through your underwear, making you mewl, closing your eyes at the sudden attention your core was getting.

You felt embarrassed at how much you enjoyed when he moved the fabric to the side and started making out with your cunt, swallowing your fluids like a starved man.

“So wet” he mumbled against your labia, the vibration making your eyes roll back, bitting your lip to prevent any moan to come out; he was raping you, why did he make you enjoy it? “I bet you like this, to be treated like a whore”

You shook your head, more tears falling out of your eyes as you felt nothing else but humiliation, pleasure washing over your body everytime his tongue brushed your clit, your back arched against nothing.

“You like it?” he said, finally pulling out and pushing his body up so his face was in front of yours, his cock grazing against your now stimulated pussy, a gasp leaving your lips, a gasp that quickly turned into a hurting moan when his hand slapped you again, this time in your throbbing cunt. “Answer me”

“I- I do” you whispered, gripping his shoulders when you felt him align the head of his member with your whole, scared of how it was going to fit. You had trouble taking it when he face-fucked you, how the fuck it was going to fit down there?

“I’m going to fuck you so good” he whispered between pants, jerking himself off before entering you. “You’re going to forget that pathetic husband of yours”

You couldn’t help but cry, trying to push him off by the shoulders, a terrified look on your face. “It won’t fit, Doctor” you pleaded, a crooked grin on his face as you keep on calling him that. “I beg you, don’t-”

“Yes, beg me” he said, starting to push his member inside you with a slow but relentlessly pace, not giving you enough time to adjust, just to scream and hit him weakly on the chest, face and shoulders before ge grabbed your hands and pinned them down, on the sides of your body. “I’m going to cure you- do you so good”

His voice was low, as he barely could speak when he felt just how tight you were, your walls hugging his cock just the right way, his pulsating head making your mind dizzy, the stinging pain starting to be forgotten.

But when he slid out and entered back it, the hardness of his movement made your insides burn with pain, a loud cry echoing in the walls of the living room as he started to trust into your pussy with a fast pace, not caring at all if you felt good.

He snapped his hips against yours with an animalistic force, growls escaped from his mouth every time his cock was welcomed by the warmth of your stretch whole, the sensation making him go even more feral, making you cry more.

He let go of one of your hands and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at his eyes as he fucked you vigorously, the blue on his iris not existent anymore, only his widely dilated pupils meeting yours, your blurred vision distinguishing the depraved expression in his face.

“You- so tight” he snarled, his voice barely audible, covered by the sound of skin slapping and your loud cries. “I bet your stupid husband didn’t fuck you like this”

You felt nothing but shame as you felt his cock now sliding in and out more easily, the wetness of your cunt growing as he spoke to you like that, that familiar heat flourishing in your lower belly as his words degraded you, your cries quickly becoming moans.

“This was all you needed- fuck” he said, his spit splashing your face as he talked, his words full of disdain. “A good dick, that’s all it takes to keep bitches like you quiet” You nodded, thinking that if you agreed he would stop. How wrong you were.

In a quick movement Jonathan took his cock out and spun you around, not giving you time to get on your ass up by laying your chest down before he stabbed your hole again, pushing your skirt all the way up to see how his pelvis came into collision with your ass.

You were moaning like a bitch in heat now, sure that the maids were listening, not really caring about it anymore. Jonathan was fucking you nice and hard, your mouth wide open as his tip brushed your cervix, screaming to him to keep it right there.

“I’m close” he said, pulling your hair back to press his chest to your back, his other hand going down to play with your swollen clit, wanting your to come around his cock like the slut he knew you were. “Come with me, you whore”

“Yes” you moaned, your tongue out as his cock hit the right spots, making your hips to move against his, grinding against his hand and dick, feeling your wetness drip down to your thighs. “Yes, yes, I want to”

He laughed, approaching your ear with his tongue to bite it, leaving a long and wet kiss underneath it that made you grow hotter, your eyes closed as you let him use you; the only thought in your mind being him and his wonder-working cock.

Truth was, he was fucking you stiffly, every slam of his hips stronger than the last one, but you were so deprived of touch, so dick-starved, that even if Jonathan was fucking you like a lifeless doll, only for the sake of his pleasure, you loved it, even when it hurt you.

“I’m going to fill you up” he said against your ear, his hand leaving your clit unattended as he grabbed your hip to increase the velocity of his thrusts, ramming your hole like a demented man, making your head drop against his shoulder and scream at the ceiling, now knowing what he meant by curing you.

“Going to get you pregnant” he said, more to himself than anything “so you don’t have to bitch about being alone anymore”

You opened your eyes with terror, you didn’t want children, you were so young. The idea made you frightened, the moaning now sounding like little nos and pull outs, but Jonathan didn’t listen.

“Doctor please, please, pull out” you pleaded, reaching for his hips and trying to push him away, one of his hands slapping your ass and pulling you down by your shoulder blade so you wouldn’t fight anymore. “Doctor Crane please”

“I will fucking fill you up, Y/N” he chanted, laughing at the idea of your round belly and your swollen tits, carrying his baby all day and feeling all worked up and needy all day, only waiting for him to fuck you all day. “You won’t be alone again. You won’t be sad again”

Then you realized it.

When he came, your hot walls creamed every single drop of his cum, making his thrusts sloppy and slow, his moans filling your ears as you sobbed under his touch, feeling his seed paint your walls and load your insides with his sperm.

That was your cure.

His hot release that now flooded inside your leaking cunt, that was your so-promised antidote. He took away your solitude by giving you his and yours firstborn, a bastard baby that would give you the company that you lacked.

You felt him chuckle as he rode out his high, the chase of his own climax made you forget yours, so now there you were, your swollen cunt looking for its release while his rested among your insides calmly, like it was meant to be.

He didn’t pull out immediately, taking his time to appreciate the sight of your skirt resting in your hips all rolled up, your bruised neck and messy hair, the way your ass was exposed to him by the way he had you arching your back. All for him— for him to wreck.

He pulled out and rolled his eyes when you started crying, now being annoying instead of hot. You sat on the couch and saw him button his pants and fix his hair, hissing when you felt nothing but pain growing in your worn-out pussy. You explained through your weak voice how he ruined your life, that he was the worst person you’ve ever met and that now you had to carry the product of his sick and twisted rapist-fantasy, even tried to hit him, but your pathetic tantrum only gained you another slap in the face, and a stern look.

When he tried to stand up and leave, you grabbed him by the wrist and begged him not to, he couldn’t just leave you, not now, not ever.

“Don’t be so ungrateful” he said, a smile that made you feel nothing but trepidation in his face. “You’ll never be alone again”

You couldn’t help but feel scared. Scared of him, of what just happened, of what’s going to happen next, scared for your future son with this evil specie of a man.

When you continued to cry, and he pulled you for a hug as he assured you that he would never leave you; and how could he? He had a long life of success waiting for him now, giving a girl of your status his last name, his children. Oh, it’s going to be wonderful, he just needed to tame you and make you the perfect slave for him, and that wasn’t going to be hard.

You were sure that you’ll never be loved, but at least now Jonathan was going to be with you. You’ll never be alone again.

thanks for reading. w/love, fenina;)

taglist: @lovesickxcherries @genini @ilunapb @ostricx @devotedlyshadowytheorist

if you want to be added let me know, it’ll be my pleasure🫶🏻

[cillianhead]

A New Pair of Glasses || Cillian Murphy x Reader

Part One! Part Two!

summary: When Y/N watches the Batman trilogy for the first time with her friends... she returns home to Cillian with a newfound sense of longing for a certain Dr. Jonathan Crane.

warnings: SMUT, DUBCON!, CNC themes!!!, unprotected P in V, oral sex (f and m receiving), analplay, FAKE DRUG USE! (Cillian gives reader a sugar pill and says it's a sedative (all consensual; reader is aware of the fact it's not a real sedative.)) minor alcohol use / drunk, age gap (reader is college age while Cillian is in his mid-to-late 40s), swearing, daddy kink, sir/doctor kink, breeding kink, praise kink, degradation, vulgar language, sort of a sugar daddy + sugar baby dynamic, slapping, roleplay, dacryphilia, edging, overstimulation, squirting, sex toys (dildo and vibrator), use of electric shocks for sexual pleasure (Cillian uses some sort of mild toy that zaps you), use of restraints, fake cheating scenario, sort of vague allusions that Cillian is gonna push her off a balcony but I'd like to stress the words VAGUE ALLUSIONS!! adult content ahead!!

LONG FIC ?!?!

(I wrote this while listening to Eat Your Young by Hozier :-))

18+ Minors DNI

"This your man?" Your friend Gabriel snickered as you all sat around eating popcorn and other various junk foods.

"Yeah... yeah..." You roll your eyes playfully before popping a few popcorn kernels into your mouth. You felt horribly flustered and hot despite the cold weather outside.

"Genuinely can't believe you've never seen these movies before," Your friend Mia, Sasha's girlfriend, remarks from the couch. The film was paused on a particular scene of Dr. Jonathan Crane with a gavel in hand. "Especially since your boyfriend is in it..." She said teasingly. "I can't believe he's your boyfriend!"

You just giggled and shyly smiled. You had binge-watched all the movies, and now you were on the last one. You couldn't express the emotions you were feeling right now. A deep carnal sensation was lighting you on fire within as they continued the scene. Though he was only in it for a short amount of time, you found yourself zoning out and fantasizing about Jonathan Crane and what it would be like to fuck him.

The movie ended, and by now, it was nearing midnight. You hadn't planned on staying the night at Sasha's, so you stood back up and collected your things. A driver was picking you up in about ten minutes, so you sat around with your three best friends and talked about your plans for the rest of the weekend and all that.

"What's your boyfriend up to?" Gabriel asked with a knowing smile on their face.

"Oh, he's gone to the pub to watch the footy with a couple of his buddies," You beamed. You couldn't explain it, but the idea of Cillian out and having fun with a couple of pints of Guinness in some little pub, having a blast, and laughing with his mates was unbelievably cute. It made you feel all blushy and dumb, the kind of dumb a schoolgirl would get at seeing her favorite charming teacher. "Not sure if he's home yet, and I haven't really wanted to bother him tonight. It's his first time seeing his friends in a while... since he and I are basically together all the time." You giggled, fiddling with the hem of your shorts.

"This is your first time seeing us in forever too!" Sasha squeeled with that laugh of hers, throwing a cushion at you.

"Ow, hey!" You pouted as you pretended to soothe your arm.

"You know it's true," Sasha sassed. "You two are joined at the hip... but we're not mad, we just miss you... but we're so happy for you and your sugar daddy- *cough* sorry, boyfriend." Sasha joked, and you all burst out laughing.

"He's not my sugar daddy..." You bit your lip, stifling the laughs ready to erupt from you. "I mean, like... he is... like that's how it first started, but he's more than that now..." You bit your tongue and rubbed your heel on the ground with a reclusive and cheeky smile. "I think I'm gonna marry him..." You grinned.

"Oh! You are not... we haven't even fucking met him!" Gabriel snapped, cackling. "Why can't we meet him?" "Oh, come on, I want you guys to meet him, and he wants to meet you... I'm just nervous..." You mused.

"What? Do you think he's gonna hate us?" Sasha asked while sipping her margarita that she bragged about being able to make herself.

"No... it's just..." You hesitated, looking down at your lap. "You guys are very different types of people. I think it's likely to clash in a strange and complicated way." Gabriel nodded their head understandingly. "Like you guys are gonna meet! But I just don't know exactly how... he's a very lowkey guy and likes quiet settings, whereas you guys... wanna go do something fun and exciting and a bit loud... and that's fine! I love both of those things... and Cillian's all weird and cute and awkward when he meets new people, especially in loud places..."

"Oh hush, we get it... we'll meet when the time is right," Sasha smiled. "As long as we meet before the wedding though, like-"

"Oh shit, my driver's here, I gotta go. He's been waiting for two minutes already..." You hurriedly got up and gave Gabriel and Sasha big hugs.

"Who are you with your private drivers?!" Sasha giggled before leaning on Gabriel with loving smirks.

"Bye!" You yelled before quickly rushing out the door with both your shopping bags from the day of shopping you had with your two mates.

You had met up for brunch, which turned into "a quick trip to the mall" to try on about fifteen different pairs of clothes in six other clothing stores. After that, you returned to Sasha and her girlfriend's place and hung out with the three of them for a while. Sasha's girlfriend was a massive nerd with posters of Evil Dead, Five Nights at Freddie's, Hatsune Miku, and many other fun, dorky things. It was when someone brought up Batman that Sasha's girlfriend, Mia, would begin to lose her mind. You both chatted about it, and she told you all about the different Batman villains and then subsequently mentioned The Scarecrow.

"That's Y/N's boyfriend!" Gabriel said as they took off their makeup in the mirror.

Sasha and Gabriel then had to explain to Mia that you were dating the actor who played the scarecrow in the Christopher Nolan Batman films. It was funny seeing Mia's reaction, and you talked a bit more until you mentioned that you hadn't seen them, and then they all decided on a movie night.

And now you sat in the back seat of a black car, leaning your head against the window. You were excited to see Cillian again. You had missed him all day. The streets were busy, full of people coming out of pubs. Everyone was watching the footy today, so it made sense that it was more crowded than usual. As you slowly pushed through traffic, you closed your eyes and fell asleep to the sound of the busy streets and passing cars.

A few hours had passed and everything was quiet now.

"Y/N, honey, you're home," The driver gently shook you awake. "Time to wake up, sleepyhead." You smiled with your eyes closed at the older man and slowly slipped out of the car with your things.

"Thanks for waking me up, Jim," You said kindly. "Has Cillian already paid you for tonight?" "Yes, with a hefty tip as always," Jim croaked happily as he made his way back to the driver's seat. "You have a good night, Miss. Y/N."

"Thank you, drive safely, please!" You yelled as you unlocked the door to your shared home with Cillian. All the lights were off so you figured Cillian hadn't made it home yet.

You sighed and set down all your bags once you entered your bedroom. You got changed into one of Cillian's shirts and a pair of comfy sleep shorts and slipped your headphones on. You stood out on the balcony with a slight smile on your moonlit face. A cup of chamomile was cradled in your hands as you listened to soft music and waited for your beloved boyfriend to get home.

You couldn't stop thinking about him, though. Jonathan Crane had ravaged your mind. Just the thought of him made you squeeze a little. How he looked and acted, it was like every cell in your body was lit on fire with desire for the fictional character. Of course, the main reason you found him so sexy was because it was Cillian. But that was well over a decade ago now, and Cillian had aged beautifully since then. The thought of an older 'dilfier' version of Crane made you weak in the knees.

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a familiar arm snaking its way around your waist and a loving kiss placed on your shoulder.

"Hey, darling," Cillian whispered as you pulled your headphones off. He held you in his arms and swayed you slowly. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, and you grinned, knowing he was probably a bit buzzed. "Missed you while I was out." "Mmm, yeah?" You hum, setting your tea down on the small glass table beside you before wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying with him softly. "How much?"

"So much," He slurred, pushing his face into your neck and groaning at your sweet smell. "Fuckin' thought about you all night long, even when me' team won." "Your team won?!" You exclaimed gleefully. "That's great, Cillian!" "Yeah, yeah," He shook his head with a blush on his face. "They won by a landslide." He was so cute when he blushed. "Oh, my lovely boy," You praised sweetly and leaned in, kissing him deeply. Cillian moaned into the kiss as his hands slid down to rest on your ass., giving it a loving squeeze. "I've been waitin' for you, Daddy." You whispered with a string of spit tying your lips together.

He snarled a bit at the nickname. "Oh yeah, baby?" He huffed with a one-sided grin. A smug look on his face as the dynamic immediately changed, and he pressed your back against the wooden railing with a sadistic smirk. "What you've been waitin' for?" He whispered gravelly in your ear, his hips pressed into yours to make you feel his hard dick through his trousers.

"I..." You trembled, mouth helplessly falling open with shyness.

"Was it my cock?" He hummed, fingers sliding up from your arm to grip your quivering jaw heavily. He slapped you across the face, but not enough to bruise, just to leave a constant sting. You whined, and another slap was given. "Tell me... baby... I know you can feel how fuckin' hard I am right now, so tell me all about how you're cunt is drippin' f'me." He grunted, letting go of your jaw and lining his hips up with yours with his palms roughly grappling at your ass to pull your barely-clothed pussy right against his fucking hard cock.

"Daddy..." You whispered breathlessly and helplessly. The way he was pushing you back against the balcony caused you to lean over the edge ever so slightly. It was frightening. You knew Jonathan- *I mean* Cillian would never push you off the balcony. But the thrill was enticing as he looked at you hungrily.

"Don't be coy with me now, little girl," Cillian smiled a toothy and mischievous grin. "I remember all the times you've had the mouth of a pornstar, spewing dirty t'ings for yer daddy," He pressed his nose into your neck, cupping the back of your head as he leaned you against the balcony.

"Please fuck me...." You gasped, grinding yourself on his erection. He groaned and grabbed you harder, this time away from the balcony and back inside. You were gripping his shirt feverishly, trying not to fall over. He pushed you down onto the bed with a grunt and kicked his socks and shoes off before undoing his belt and ripping off his top layers. "Oh, daddy..." You whispered, spreading your legs open as you pulled your shorts down and your thong with it. Cillian leaned down, grabbed your black thong, and raised it to his nose and mouth, smelling it like a feral dog.

"Fuckin' hell," He exhaled before dropping to his knees before you, at eye level with your wet pussy. "I'm so hungry..." He nipped your inner thighs, slowly lowering closer to your heat.

"Please... eat me... Daddy, oh my god," You mewled as you raised your pussy to his drooling mouth and tongue. "Fuck, oh!" You exclaimed as you arched your back, digging your fingers into his hair and pressing his face into your cunt. He ate you up like a cornucopia of fruit and slurped you up with his tongue.

"S'good," Cillian groaned, muffled by your cunt in his mouth. Your arousal and his spit dribbling down his pretty chin, his eyes looking desperately up at you, as you rest back on your arms and cry with euphoria.

"Oh... Cill.... oh... daddy..." You moaned, hair spread across your face and mouth. You were too lost in the pleasure. Slowly rutting your pussy into his face, head lolling from side to side with the dizziness of your impending orgasm. "Gonna cum... baby... gonna cum..."

"Give it t'me," Cillian grunted, eyes fluttering shut as he focused his tongue particularly on your throbbing clit; occasionally slipping it down to lap at your soaking cunt. His nose was pressed into your mound, hardly breathing, too focused on the sweet euphoria of eating your pussy. In his usually busy and complicated mind, his brain had now gone radio silent, and it was exactly like he was high. You were a drug to him. You came undone, gushing into his awaiting mouth.

Your eyes rolled back into your brain, loud mewls as you fell back onto your shoulders and gripped at the sheets. You were near to tears with how good he ate you out. As he lapped up your sweet cum, you writhed, squeezing your thighs around his head and fingers tugging painfully hard on the roots of his hair.

"Okay, Cillian..." You exasperated, panting heavily. "That's enough." He pulled away like a slobbering dog, cum and saliva making a string of spit on his chin and your sopping cunt.

"Fuck me, baby..." He whispered, pupils blown wide like he had taken ecstasy. "You taste so good..." He hummed as he crawled up to you and kissed you hard, tasting yourself on his stroking tongue. His cock was out by now, painfully hard and ready to be stuck in your cunt. "Please let me fuck you now..." He said breathily against your lips. "Please..."

"Daddy... please... need you inside me," You bit your lip as the tip of his cock nudged your clit. "Don't tease me..."

"Course not, darlin'," He mumbled deeply, right by your ear as he slung one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his waist. "Why would I tease my darling girl?" He pressed himself fully into you, making you go cross-eyed.

"Ooohh..." You mewled softly. The air had been knocked out of your lungs. It felt like you would explode in the most beautiful way possible. His cock was snug against your cervix, every ridge of him pressing against your hot and wet walls. You shut your eyes, shaking as he began pulling out of you slowly before jutting back into you.

"Best fuckin' pussy," He growled, picking up the pace of his thrusts. "Best one I've had..."

"You're mine," You gasped out, drunk on his cock already. You reached out and grabbed him by the throat, pulling him into a teeth-clashing kiss. "All mine, daddy." You pressed your heel into his lower back as you pulled away from the kiss to look at his face above yours. You looked up at him with your dizzy eyes and lips spilling out drool, desperate to hear him say the words you had on your mind.

"I'm all yours, Y/N," He panted, fucking you roughly and desperately. You went at it like rabbits, desperate to be bred. "I'm yours... forever..." He connected his soft lips to yours and made you fall in love all over again as you made out. He was still a bit drunk, and he usually came a bit quickly when he was but you didn't mind.

"You gonna cum in me?" You moaned, rocking your hips against his. His hands slid up and cradled you by your ribcage as he manhandled you to seamlessly get speared by his cock.

"Y-Yeah, course," He panted, eyes glued to the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of you. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum..." "That's it, Daddy," You moaned, reaching up and pulling on his hair as you kissed him. His cum instantly squirted into you as you squeezed around him and danced your tongue against his. "Fuck, feels so good... fill me up..." You mewled, pressing yourself against him as your orgasm washed over you too.

Cillian was silent, face pressed into the side of your cheek with his mouth agape in quiet moans, his veins popping out of his forehead. "Oh baby girl, oh fuck..." He whispered, all whiny, into your ear. He still pathetically rutted his hips into you, filling you with as much cum as possible.

Drool fell down your chin as you convulsed in his arms. He quickly pulled off of you, not wanting to become overstimulated, and you still lay there, writhing a bit as your orgasm slowly dissipated. Cillian pressed a flush kiss to your warm cheek, laying on his side and wrapping you up in his big arms.

"You did so good for me, baby," Cillian whispered sweetly as you blinked slowly at him. "Such a good girl, knows how to take cock so well," He smiled at you knowingly, brushing your hair with his fingers.

"Cillian..." You hummed with a sleepy smile. "Get me some underwear please... don't want to lose any of your cum..."

Cillian smirked, quickly getting up and rushing to your drawer where you kept all your panties and other lingerie items. He picked out a baby pink pair of panties and brought them over to you, sliding it slowly up your legs and getting a glimpse of your creamy pussy.

"How pretty, a little bow..." He chuckled, fiddling with the white bow at the top of your underwear. Cillian crawled into your shared bed with you. He pulled you into his arms, and you lay there with happy smiles, getting warm from the covers. You lie in comfortable silence for a while, nuzzling your heads together and cherishing the feeling of having your bodies together again. It felt healing. It truly felt like you had found your other half. You knew you had.

"Do you need a glass of water or anything?" Cillian asks with that lovely Irish accent of his.

"No, it's okay, just need you to hold me, Cill... I'm tired," You whispered with a smile, thumb brushing his cheekbone. "I need your arms around me to feel sane..." "Such a poet," Cillian snickered, kissing your forehead and pulling you closer. "What'd you get up to today, sweet t'ing?" He asked, running his fingertips gently up and down your back. It was almost ticklish.

"Well, the brunch was really nice with Sasha and Gabby," You recalled softly, fingers fiddling with the chain around his neck. "Then Sasha wanted to go get something from the mall.... so we went to the mall, and I did some shopping too... while I was there."

"Oooo... shopping? Tell me whatcha got, love." Cillian cooed excitedly, wriggling with anticipation. Cillian had given you a credit card with a pretty high limit, paid by his money. He was pretty much entirely financially supporting you. You felt terrible at first, but you realized quickly that he got off on the idea of you spoiling yourself with his money. So you'd treat yourself to nice things while treating him to very nice things simultaneously. Pretty much every shopping trip, you'd buy something sexy for Cillian to rip off of you. "Did ya get me anythin'?" "Mhm," You whispered, poking his chest knowingly. "Can I see it?" He asked with a raised brow.

"Nope, not until tomorrow..." You smirked, pecking him on the lips. "I want to keep you on your toes."

"Alright, woman, whatever you please... just as long as I see ya in it..." Cillian chuckled, nudging your nose with his. He enjoyed it when you showed off what you bought, especially the clothes. He'd make you do a little fashion show in his living room. "What else did ya do?" "Oh, then we went back to Sasha's place..." You trailed off for a moment, trying to recall everything that happened. "Had a bit of dinner... then we just watched some movies." You smiled while Jonathan Crane's face flashed inside your head.

"What movies did you watch?" He asked curiously, fingers twirling your hair around it. He could see you were quickly becoming flustered but he wasn't quite sure why. "What? What is it? What did you watch?" He laughed.

"We watched... we watched..." You giggled, leaning in and pressing your face into his chest. "The Batman movies..." You snickered, rolling around and laughing wildly. Cillian had a stunned and amused look on his face as he watched you wriggle around and laugh your lungs out.

"The ones I'm in, ya mean?" He asked, chuckling a bit with a red face. He was worried you were laughing at him. "Y-Yes!" You said with a loud laugh. You were laughing because of how fucking sexually attracted you are to him as Jonathan Crane. There was something so sexy about him as this cunning, tricky little Batman villain. "Oh my god..." "I didn't think I did too bad in those films..." He whispered bashfully, looking down at his lap a bit self-consciously. "Did yer friends also think it was silly?" Your laughing quickly dissipated as you realized Cillian had taken your laughing the wrong way. You quickly sat up and scooted closer to him with wide eyes. "No, no, no... I'm not... I'm not laughing at it... Cillian... you were brilliant... they're fuckin' brilliant films... it's just..." You trailed off, biting your lip as you giggled a bit more thinking about Jonathan Crane.

"It's just what?" He asked, still with a disappointed and sad look in his eyes.

"You were so...." You whispered, pressing your face into his chest and laughing into his warm skin. "He's so hot!" You blurted out.

"What?" He laughed, thinking you're talking about Christian Bale.

"Cillian," You sat up, looking him directly into his eyes, and he could tell you were seriously about to say to him how sexually attracted you were to Batman. "You as the scarecrow... as Dr. Jonathan Crane... fuuuuuccckk..." You rolled your eyes back into your head, teeth tightly clenching down on your bottom lip.

"O-Oh!" Cillian smiled, face growing red for many different reasons and eyes lighting up. "You really thought so?"

"Cillian, I want to fuck him so bad," You gasped, pressing your nose into his face.

"It's funny how yer referring to me as him," He laughed, wrapping you up in his arms. You were both more in a sitting position now, looking at each other's grinning faces.

"No, like... obviously... it's you... and that's mainly why I find Jonathan so sexy... but just the way... you played the character... he's so fucking convincing and so attractive... like... I want him."

Cillian raised a brow before kissing you softly. "Well, y'have me..."

"I know, baby... I don't want anyone else but you," You reassured sweetly. "Just think the characters you play... are so handsome... want them all to fuck me..."

Cillian blushed, kissing you again, this time a little longer and sloppier. Eventually, after you two managed to pull off each other, you brushed your teeth side by side, and Cillian watched you wash your face and moisturize. You'd then turn to him and ask to put some on him, and he would hesitantly let you, all while pretending to not enjoy the attention.

Falling asleep was easy in Cillian's arms. Ever since you met him, every night without him was sleepless. There was just nothing quite like having him hold you. You had passed out, unbeknownst to Cillian, reaching his arm out for his phone and quickly ordering some things online and then lying back down with you again to sleep with a smug smirk on his face.

In the late morning, you two woke up around the same time. Cillian woke up only a few minutes before you did. He watched you beautifully sleep.

"Good mornin'," He grumbled with that morning voice of his. "How'd you sleep, sleeping beauty?"

"Oh, hush," You shook your head, covering your face as you rubbed your eyes. "I feel like I look like an ogre," You laughed, sitting up a bit. "I slept amazing... as usual... how about you, my lovely man?" You reached out, stroking along his stubbled jaw.

"Perfectly fine," He nodded, sitting up with you, sheets barely covering his naked manhood. Your hands slipped the sheets from his pelvis to reveal his morning wood. "Mmm... didn't say you could do that..." He smirked, eyes watching as you lowered your face down to kiss his hard cock.

"Love you so much, just wanna make you feel good..." You mumbled as you fit the tip in your mouth. You wrapped your fingers around the base as you sucked on his leaky tip.

"Fuckin' hell," Cillian sighed, throwing his head back as you teased him. And then you fully sank your mouth down on his cock until his thick head was prodding at the back of your throat. "That's it, love... I love you so much... you're so fuckin' good to me."

You hummed around his cock as he lazily lay there and enjoyed the feeling of your mouth on him. You slowly sucked him to the brink of cumming, popping off of him right before the climax.

"Why'd you stop?" He whined, reaching to grab a hold of his cock, but you quickly swatted his hand away. "Hey!"

"You're not allowed to cum," You stated simply, not elaborating any further.

"What? Why?" He laughed incredulously. He kept trying to reach for his erection, but you smacked his hand away every time.

"You're just not," You looked at him stubbornly. "Not until later. I want to show you something really cute and slutty I got for you yesterday... and I want you to be absolutely desperate..." Cillian groaned out of frustration. "Fine, if that's what it takes to make my girl happy," He reached a hand up and stroked your hair affectionately, yet with a sense of irritation.

"And don't even think about trying anything in our shower," You murmured as you both got up and wandered into your shower. "You can't get yourself off."

"So goddamn bossy," Cillian grumbled teasingly as you turned on the hot shower, and both stood underneath it. Cillian was in agony with his throbbing cock. And it didn't help that you stood right against one another. The hot water and your ass pressing against him was nearly enough to make him burst without even doing anything. You knew what you were doing to him.

The shower was long and tiring, and eventually, Cillian's dick softened on its own, but that didn't deny the sexual frustration within him. Cillian made the two of you breakfast, and you ate with a smug smirk on your face.

"Gotta run some errands today, love," Cillian hummed while chewing his scrambled eggs. He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Oh, can I come with?" You asked with your head perked up.

"Actually, could you stay home?" He asked while cutting his food to take another bite. "I have an important package coming later that needs to be signed for... plus it's just boring stuff anyway, just some meetings and all that stuff you don't care about."

"Oh, okay! That's alright," You smiled, your plate now cleared. "I'll stay here."

Cillian got ready while you sat on the lounge, watching your favorite show. Cillian hurriedly walked into the living room and sat down beside you. You paused the TV and looked at him with a sad smile.

"I'm gonna miss you while you're out," You whispered, kissing him softly on the cheek. "You not shaving?" You hummed when you noticed he still had some stubble lining his jaw.

"I know, baby love," He murmured, his hand caressing your thigh. "Nah, I think I'm gonna grow out my beard a lil'... I'm gonna be gone for a little while... probably won't be back until this evening..."

"Oh..." You frowned, pouting at him as he placed his hands on either side of your face.

"Don't worry," He whispered, pecking you softly on your pouty lips. "You've got a gift comin' today," He hummed, and you raised your eyebrows curiously. "It's a little treat from me. You can go on and open it without me. I know how impatient you can get..."

"Really?" You said ecstatically. "Thank you, Cillian... I'm sure I'm gonna love it." You reached out and wrapped your arms tightly around him.

"Oh, you will," He whispered into your ear. "You're gonna really fuckin' like it."

You and Cillian shared one last loving kiss as you walked him to the door. You watched him go with a longing sigh before turning around and wondering what you were gonna do for the day. Cillian never specified when your gift was showing up.

For a while, you bundled up on the couch and watched some more TV, but eventually, you grew restless and wandered into your bedroom and tried on your new set of lacy white lingerie. You look angelic in the most sinful way possible. You planned on acting all submissive and obedient for Cillian tonight, and you wanted to look everything pure and innocent for your daddy. The lace and tight straps hugged you beautifully and exemplified your curves. The back of it was just one thin G-string sitting between your ass... And, of course, two baby pink bows strapped on either side of your hips. Not to be despite the thin lace front where you could easily see your pretty wet pussy through.

The top piece of the set was a small white corset laced up with bows and soft, sweet velvet. The busk straps on either side of your darling shoulders were adorned with cute patterned lace and tiny little bows... and made your tits look fucking amazing. Oh, you were adorable and simply undeniably fuckable-looking. His cock would look at you before even his eyes had, and before he knew it, his cocks got a brain, and it's leading him straight to you.

A soft garter belt attached to the tops of your translucently cotton stockings that went up to your thighs. Everything was perfect and handmade and expensive. So you decided to just keep it on and surprise him like this when he gets home. While you pranced around the living room, sipping your freshly made tea. A sweet milky early grey, soothing your inner qualms and exciting you even more at the thought of Cillian coming home.

It was around 2 PM now, and you figured Cillian wouldn't be home for another couple of hours, so the distinct sound of Cillian's car coming up the driveway made you frown. What happened? You were worried something terrible happened and didn't bother putting any clothes on since you knew it was just Cillian. A knock at the door made you frown and pause in your footsteps.

"Delivery!" Cillian yelled with an American accent. You giggled, thinking it was just him messing around, and so you quickly unlocked the door to the most shocking sight.

Cillian stood there in a nice slimming suit, the same kind that Jonathan Crane wore. And the sight of his hair styled how it was in Batman, and the classic glasses and briefcase clutched in hand, you felt like you were going to pass out.

"My... what a skimpy little outfit you've got on, sweetheart," He grumbled, lifting up a tiny little teal-colored Tiffany&Co gift bag with a little note that said 'From Cillian, xxx' and you realized that was his gift. "Ran into your cute boyfriend... by the way."

"What do you mean, Cillian?" You whispered, taking tiny steps back as he walked slowly and creepily towards you until your back hit the wall.

"I know we may look similar..." He whispered, grabbing you roughly by your chin. "But I think you know exactly who I am," He said raspily into your ear. His American accent sends you into overdrive. "Cillian... huh... well, he's not here right now, Ms. Y/N." He growled, grabbing ahold of one of your tits through your lingerie.

"Wh-Wha..." You couldn't comprehend what was happening. Cillian was doing such a convincing act at being Jonathan Crane it made you forget it was actually him.

Jonathan grabbed a hold of you, and you hit and squealed as he threw you over his shoulders. Fuck, he was so strong. He placed a harsh smack on your ass and shoved you roughly down onto the bed so you were looking up at him. His hair is a bit messed up now, and his glasses sitting lowly on his nose. It really was him, you had convinced yourself. It's Jonathan Crane.

"Too bad your little boyfriend's not gonna see what I'm gonna do to you," He growled as he tugged a bit on your underwear, pulling you into a sitting position. "Let's say... Cillian and I had a little deal, and this was my end... of the bargain per se.... think I know a better way to treat this sickness of yours..."

"Where is Cillian...?" You asked with quivering lips. He stood with two legs slotted in between your bare ones. He was even wearing a different cologne, and you noticed he had shaved to look younger.

"Oh baby, you don't wanna know," He smirked, briefly brushing your cheek before placing his black briefcase beside you on the bed. "Your boyfriend mentioned some concerns about your well-being, so he sent me here to check on you..." Jonathan had a smug smirk on his face as he unlocked his briefcase, pulling out a small packet of pills. "Now, I'm here to make you feel better..." He popped out a pill and placed it in the palm of his hand. "Open wide, princess..." He mused.

"Wha-What is it?" As you hesitantly opened your mouth and let him place the small white pill right on your tongue. He leaned down and had his mouth right next to your ear.

"Just a sugar pill," Cillian whispered in his Irish accent again. "Pretend it's a sedative... you can always say the safe word at any time, angel. I love you." He placed a kiss against your cheek before pulling away with that cold demeanor of Jonathan Crane again. You dry swallowed the pill. "That's a good girl," He hummed, shutting his briefcase. You caught a glimpse of a rather large dildo and a few other sex toys. "You'll feel real good in about ten minutes. Now I want you to get nice and spread out for me so I can fuck you."

You scrambled back up onto the bed and spread your legs wide open with trembling lips. "But... I have a boyfriend... you're not my boyfriend..."

"No, sweetie," He shook his head, chuckling as he kicked off his shoes and undid his coat. "But your stupid boyfriend doesn't have to know a thing about what happens tonight."

"N-No..." You shut your legs and quickly got out of the bed to run.

"Oh no, you fucking don't," He barked, grabbing you by your ankle and pulling you back towards him like you were just a sack of meat. "I'm afraid I'm gonna have to tie you to the bed if you're even gonna think about trying to get away from me."

"Jonatha-"

"Doctor or sir to you, bitch," He slapped you harshly across the face and pulled out ankle and wrist restraints. "Get in position, don't make me force you."

"Yes, sir..." You said with your eyes down and crawling up the bed to be in a position where you could be tied up. Jonathan firmly put the cuffs on your ankles and your wrists, chaining you to the bed frame from both sides. "Please don't hurt me..."

"Please don't hurt me," He mocked in a high-pitched voice. "I'm gonna do whatever I please to you." He hissed, pulling your ass into his clothed cunt. "How cute you wore this for your boyfriend... so pathetic." "He... He likes them..."

"Oh, I'm sure he does," He cackled his menacing laugh. "Too bad he's never gonna see you in it. Think I'm gonna have to keep you for myself." "What do you mean?" You whimpered, pulling a bit at your restraints.

"It's just gonna be me and you for now, baby... your boyfriend's not comin' back... what a shame..." He unbuckled his belt and let his pants fall to the floor. You tried your best to pull away from him as he crawled on top of you but you couldn't go very far with your limited mobility.

"Fuck... I think... I think the medicine is kicking in..." You whined as you felt Jonathan pull down your panties but kept everything else in place. He wanted to fuck you with your cute skimpy lingerie on. Cillian had truly put himself in the mindset of this character as he pulled his cock out and grabbed at your thighs roughly. Your eyes drooped a bit but Jonathan quickly snapped you out of it by shoving his cock in you harshly.

"Bet you're still full of his cum, aren't you?" Jonathan grunted as you squeezed around him, unbelievably wet. "What a fucking whore."

"Doctor... please..." You cried, thrusting your hips up into him. "Please don't do this... this isn't right.. my... my... boyfriend... will find out-"

"Oh shut the fuck up," He spat, fucking you like you were just some fleshlight. "You're mine now, slut... gonna fuckin use you for all my experiments and fuck you while you're cowering in fear under my toxins."

"Pl-Please..." Tears slipped out from your eyes. "I'm not on the pill... please stop..." You lied and pulled at your restraints, trying to get free.

"Oh fuck, even better," He moaned. "Gonna get you pregnant and show your loving boyfriend what we fuckin' did... he'll see what an easy slut you are..." Jonathan's voice was cold and mean, but it made you moan so much louder and shake with pleasure as you came around him. "Told you so... look at you cumming already on my dick when I just put it in you."

"N-No..." You whimpered, tears streaming down your face. That only made him fuck you harder and deeper into you. He was getting off on your crying. "Please... you can't..." Your body had gone limp at this point. He showed no signs of stopping, fucking your spasming cunt.

"Poor little thing," He ran his thumb sweetly over your wet cheeks with a smug smirk. "Pretending like you're not just some cum-hungry slut."

You mewled and fought against your restraints as he somehow managed to make you cum again. You were so fucking turned on that your body gave in to the pleasure so easily and quickly. "Too much... too much... sir..." You wailed, trying to shut your legs, but that only made him pin those down as he continued fucking you. You thought about how you had edged Cillian earlier, so you imagined that this probably was his revenge.

"Go on and take my cum then, whore," Jonathan groaned as he spurt cum deep inside of you, further intensifying your orgasm. Jonathan grunted ferociously, cum filling you to the brim as he shook with the pleasure he was experiencing.

"Oh..." You squeaked, shutting your eyes as you twitched.

He pulled out of you, squirting a bit more cum out onto your swollen clit and watching it drip down and meet the rest of your sperm-filled hole. Jonathan seemed pleased with his creation as he slipped his fogged-up glasses off and wiped them clean before sliding them back on.

"Doctor...." You whispered, heaving as he stood up and undid your restraints. "Thank you..." You whispered, rubbing your sore ankles and wrists. "Pl-Please don't tell my boyfriend about this." Jonathan scoffed and rolled his eyes as he tucked his cock back into his underwear.

"I'm not finished with you yet, sweetheart," Jonathan whispered, leaning in and biting your neck. You whimpered and grabbed ahold of him as he left marks on your neck.

"No! Don't mark... don't mark me..." You tried to pull him off of you, but he wouldn't budge. It only made him bite you harder. "Jonathan... he'll see..."

"Good, I want him to see what a nasty slut you are," He growled, biting down harder.

You shoved him off of you and, with no underwear on, ran down the hall to get away from him. But you heard footsteps pounding down the hallway after you ominously, not at a very fast pace.

"Oh, you can run, but you can't hide sweetheart," He chuckled as he slowly walked around and acted as if he couldn't see you hiding behind one of the floor-length curtains. The tops of your feet poked out from underneath. "Hmm... where'd you go? I won't hurt you." It was creepy how convinced you were it was anyone other than your Cillian. In a way, you were truly horrified of him finding you. His American accent remains steady and strong.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt a hand wrap tightly around your arm and yank you out of your horrible hiding spot. "Stupid little girl... trying to hide from me..." He looked pissed as he dragged you to the center of the living room, where he shoved you down on your knees. "I have an idea..." He smirked, a glimmer of mischief flickering through his cold eyes. "Let's see what your sweet little daddy got you... hmm? Stay here on your knees... or I swear to fuckin' god..." He said through gritted teeth before sauntering off in only his underwear and glasses.

When he returns, it's with that familiar Tiffany&Co bag clutched in his hands. "How generous of your daddy to buy this for you... too bad he's not here to put it on you..." Jonathan hummed as he opened the gift for you.

"D-Don't... it's not... it's not yours..."

"You're right, sweetheart," He smirked before tearing open the bag, and a small box came out, the same shade of teal. He opened the package as he towered over you, your knees aching from digging into the hardwood floors. Your eyebrows knitted together as he pulled out a delicate silver chain and the most beautiful pendant you'd ever seen. "Lift your hair up for me, baby girl," Jonathan leaned down as you lifted up your hair and clasped the chain around your neck. It sat perfectly along your collarbones, and the bright ruby stood out against your complexion beautifully. "Does it look nice on me?" You asked quietly, noticing Jonathan's cock straining against his briefs once again.

"Yeah, you look nice and pretty," He grunted, pulling down the waistband of his shorts and began fisting his cock at the sight of you. "Too bad he's not here to see you right now, hmmm?" He moaned a little as he stroked his cock, quickly slapping you across the face with it before pressing it against your lips. "Suck."

Hesitantly you opened your mouth, and without much warning, he thrusted his hips until his cock hit the back of your throat. One of his hands held your hair in a messy ponytail while also pushing you up and down on his dick. He looked at you with that sickening smile, glasses drooping low on his nose, and his hair falling over his forehead.

"Fuck, that's it," He huffed out, fucking your head like it was just a mere toy to him. "Now I see why he keeps you around..." He sighed, tossing his head back and thriving in the feeling of your lips wrapped around his sensitive cock. "You're a good little cocksucker... that's your use."

Tears fell with every quick blink you gave him, eyes stinging from the saltiness. With every thrust into your throat, you'd gag, and more tears would fill the brim of your eyelids. You were viewing the most delicious view of his stomach and chest as well as the muscular bicep holding your head in place.

"Gonna cum all over your pathetic little face," Jonathan grunted with absolutely no concern for how you were doing. Of course, you could always give him three quick taps on the hip to say that's enough, but you never did. You loved being treated like this. "Bet you're getting off on this, aren't you slut?" You blinked your eyes up at him to signal yes. "That's what I thought, so then you know your purpose... what a good fucktoy Murphy's got..." He howled as he started to reach his peak. "Gonna cum down your throat... swallow every fuckin' drop."

You pressed your tongue against his shaft, really wanting to milk him good. You felt the familiar sensation of hot ropes of cum shooting down your throat. You gulped it down gratefully as he slowly pulled out, filling your mouth with cum, entirely pulling his cock out of your mouth to squirt all over your face. "Let's not forget..." He whispered, aiming it down onto your pretty little ruby necklace.

"O-Oh..." You coughed out, sticky with his cum, some dripping from the tip of your nose.

"Aren't you gonna thank me for your treat, slut?" He asked, slapping you across the face with the back of his hand. "Go on, thank me."

"Th-Thank you... Doctor..." You gasped out, feeling small spurts of cum dripping down your tits and onto your corset. Good thing it was already white.

"That's it, so polite," Jonathan grinned, raising you from your knees to your feet. "Look how wet you are..." He ran two fingers along your wet slit. You looked up at him with parted lips. His other hand wiped his cum from your face with his fingers before shoving into your open mouth. He smirked at the sight of your pretty new necklace covered in his cum.

"Sir..." You whimpered with pouted lips. "Please touch me more..." He pushed you into the couch, and you heard your hands being cuffed behind your back and a slight slap to your ass. "Wh-Why are you cuffing me?" Your voice trembled.

"Because you won't be able to handle what I give you next."

Shudders went down your spine as he pressed you down into a perfect arch, arms snugly tucked against your lower back. You heard him searching through his briefcase and then a tiny little zap! to the back of your thighs. "Ow!" You winced, jumping away.

"Oh darling, that was only the first setting," Jonathan snickered and got on his knees behind you, and you could look at him now from this angle despite it being a bit upside down. "You poor thing..." He cooed in faux sympathy.

"Wh-What're you gonna do to me, doctor?" You whispered, eyes wide as he placed a pink dildo within your line of sight.

"Gonna see how much you can take," He hummed simply, holding a small bottle of lube in one hand. Your eyes widened even further and you started shaking your head.

"No, no, no!" You tried to wiggle away from him but he grabbed a hold of your hips and pushed you into an even more intense and vulnerable position. Both your holes on display for him now.

"Don't worry, I'm a doctor. I know what I'm doing..." He mused, lube-covered fingers now drawing circles around your asshole. "Breathe in for me, darling," He pressed two fingers into you, and you cried softly into the couch cushions, pussy gushing out pools of arousal and Crane's cum that was still inside of you. His fingers slowly stretched you out until you were ready to take the fake cock he was about to give you that he had already lubed up.

"Fuck... Jonathan..." You mewled as he slowly pressed the head in, gauging you for your reactions to make sure you were alright. "Oh god..." The thing was nearly fully sheathed inside of you.

"Fuck... look how amazing that is..." He whispered in awe, pushing the last of it until you were full to the brim with the toy. "Ready for the next part, love?" You heard a bit of an Irish accent come out in that question, which made you giggle. He quickly cleared his throat. "Cause I don't think you are." There was the American again.

"Oh god..." You whined, drool falling out of your mouth and your tits beginning to slip out from your corset. You heard a light buzzing of a vibrator coming from behind you which was quickly slipped inside of you and placed precisely on your g-spot. "Oh! Fuck! Turn it down... it's too much... ouch!" You squealed as he tased you on the hip again.

"Shhh... I'm just seeing the power that pleasure has over the body," Jonathan hummed as he put the rest of the small baby pink vibrator on your clit, which really crossed the line of overstimulation. Jonathan gripped the fake-cock in your ass and slowly pressed it in and out of you. You stood on your tippy toes, trying to get away from the pleasure and the pain of it all. "Look at you... how pathetic... and dirty. Bet you rarely let him use your little ass like this," He growled as he harshly thrust it back into you. Your moans were nearing screams at this point. "See, that's the thing about me and him... he'll do whatever you'll tell him to do, but you see... I don't get told what to do, especially not by a stupid little cumsock like you."

"I"m not a cums-"

Zap!

He moaned at the sound of your cries, tears slipping down your face again as he turned the vibrator up another setting. It was simply too much, and your mind was beginning to slowly cave in on itself. The vibrator is placed perfectly on your clit, and g-spot, and it was becoming harder and harder to bear. Your body shook, and your mind went truly blank as an unexpected orgasm hit you. Jonathan laughed sadistically as he turned the taser on and zapped you as you started to cum. You screamed in agony and from the electric pleasure, he held that there for a moment until it left a mark and then pulled it off of you.

"So fucking pretty," Jonathan praised, kissing your ass cheek. "This is all you're good for," He pressed the fake-cock further into your ass, and you mewled as you felt yourself squirt involuntarily. This was one of the longest orgasms you've ever had. You fought against the handcuffs, and tears were falling down your face as you soaked Jonathan's face behind you.

"St-Stop... too much..." You sobbed, writhing in overstimulation. Jonathan, with a wet face, slowly pulled the dildo out of you and placed it to the side. "Fuck..."

Once he had removed the vibrator, you relaxed, collapsing to your knees and burying your face into a couch cushion to muffle your crying. "There, there, Y/N," Jonathan hummed, undoing your restraints and pulling you into him. He held you while whispering sweet nothings in your ear with that unnerving American accent.

"Can... can I have Cillian back now?" You asked quietly, shaking a bit in his lap, pussy still gushing out fluids onto his thighs. He laughed softly and took off his wet glasses, setting them down on the coffee table.

"You need yer daddy?" Cillian asked. There was that lovely Irish accent again. "I'm right here, love." You smiled, pressing your face into his neck. "I love you so much, Daddy." You whispered, appreciating the warmth of his body against yours.

"I love you, baby," He hummed, covering your face in tiny kisses. "Let's get you cleaned up and then we'll get comfy in bed, yeah? Maybe order somethin' in?"

"Mhm..."

Cillian picked you up bridal style and carried you into your bathroom, where he sat you down on the bathtub's edge and carefully undid all the clasps of your lingerie. "So pretty, you did so good for me... love," Cillian praised.

After waiting for the bath to fill with hot water and once you and Cillian were fully undressed, you got in with a tired sigh. You felt exhausted and so overstimulated. So together, you lay in a hot bath that made you feel like you were in the womb again with Cillian's arms holding you like you were going to leave him. Your eyes fluttered shut as you nestled yourself closer to him, burying your face in his familiar chest. He stroked your wet hair, kissing the crowns of your head.

"Oh, baby girl..." He whispered deeply. "You did so good for me... made me feel so good..."

"Mmm... I know," You mumbled, ears pressed to the sound of his beating chest. The rhythm of his beloved heart was lulling you to sleep. "You made me so good... made me feel so good..." You agreed dopily.

Cillian cooed at you, cupping your jaw with his hand as he made you look up at him. "Oh, sweetheart... are you okay? Did I hurt you too much?"

"No, I'm okay, Cillian..." You reassured, stretching your neck out to give him a tender kiss. You leaned your forehead against his, hands pressed firmly on his chest. "I'm a little sore and need to be handled with care, but I'm okay... I feel... I feel so good..."

"Me too..." He whispered, pecking you quickly on the lips. "I love you, Y/N."

"I love you, Jonathan..." You whispered before quickly pulling away and shaking your head with embarrassment. "No, I meant Cillian...! I'm so sorry!"

"What's this about some Jonathan guy?" Cillian teased. "You dummy." He chuckled, grabbing you and pulling you back down on his chest again. He went back to that hypnotic way of stroking your hair. "Did I do a good job? Did ya enjoy yourself?"

"Oh, fuck, Cillian... that was so fucking fun..." You giggled, biting your lip as you looked up at him. "You're so hot... and so fucking talented..."

"Talented..?" He wheezed, cupping your face in between his hands as you spoke to him.

"Yeah... god... just how you so effortlessly talk in that American accent... it's so degrading and so fucking hot..." You rambled, rolling your eyes into the back of your head as you talked about him. "And I loved the whole... 'he's not right here right now'... thing even though you were right here...."

"You've still got a bit of m'cum on your throat..." He chuckled, glancing down at the ruby he gave you, glazed in a thin layer of cum. "Look so pretty covered in me cum..." Cillian hummed with a distracted and dazed look in his eyes as he daydreamed at the sight of your tits and the new shiny necklace around your pretty neck. In a way, it symbolized a way of permanently marking you. You were his. Any other bloke that tried to take a glance at you would see that cherry-red ruby and know to back the fuck off because this is Cillian Murphy's girl.

"Thank you... Daddy..." You whispered, pressing your face softly into his neck and slowly nuzzling your nose all the way up until you had your lips against his cheek. "I look so pretty with this new necklace you gave me... thank you... you're such a good boyfriend..." You whispered into his ear in a hypnotizing way.

"Yer welcome, babie," He grumbled, pressing kisses to your jaw as you licked softly at his jaw and neck. "Love buyin' you new pretty t'ings for me to put on you... especially love what you bought for yourself today..." He whispered, referring to the white lingerie you wore earlier. "Fuck... my cock was hard the moment I laid eyes on ya..."

"Oh hush," You giggled, poking him on the chest as you straddled him. "Maybe we could do that again sometime?" You asked coyly while you straddled his hips.

"What? Have me fuck ya as you call me another man's name?" Cillian asked in mock annoyance.

"No..."

"I'm just teasing, love..." Cillian laughed, kissing you softly. "'Course we can do it again, love... I saw how fuckin' wet you got the moment you realized who I was being."

"Obviously... I would like regular... doctor checkups from Jonathan..."

"'Course..." Cillian nodded curtly and with a smug smirk. "Dr. Crane's... very obsessive... gotta check in on his favorite patient..."

"But... also..."

"Hmmm? Cillian hummed, running his hands up your back with some soap. He softly rubbed in the soap along your sore and used body.

"Could we do Jackson Rippner next time?" You asked, covering your face in your hands.

"Huh?" He laughed in surprise.

"Just you were so sexy... in that movie..." "But he was a terrorist with an awful haircut!" Cillian protested with a bewildered grin on his face.

"Pleaaasee... daddy... it could be so good... pretty please..." You begged, giving him those sad eyes that instantly made him give in.

"Fine... fine, just as long as I don't have to cut my bloody hair..." He grumbled, rolling his eyes playfully.

"We are going on that little trip next week..." You whispered cheekily. "We could do a little somethin' somethin' on the plane..." You grinned.

"Oh yeah?" Cillian chortled. "Can you imagine? 'Cillian Murphy caught goin' into the airplane bathrooms with his young girlfriend to shag.' The stupid papers would shat out their own minds."

"We wouldn't get caught... daddy..." You whispered, nuzzling his nose. "Please..." You cried pathetically into his ear, all while seductively running your fingers up his body.

"Fuck me... alright..." He huffed. "But you have to go along with every word I say to you, alright? I'm also not getting a haircut... We can't fuck this up..." He told you commandingly. He paused for a moment before continuing. "But also, the idea of fuckin' you in some tight little airplane bathroom and having to keep you quiet is making me lose my mind..."

"Mhm..." You hummed, leaning in to kiss him. "Whatever you say goes, Cillian... I'll be a good girl." "I know you will, baby... 'cause I know you don't wanna find out what Jackson does to bad girls..." He whispered in your ear, causing you to shudder.

You really couldn't wait for this trip.

-

Part two?? Yes or no?? AHHH I HOPE YOU ENJOYED I'M SO PROUD OF THIS ONE.

PART TWO!!!

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Happy Halloween!🎃Here's a treat for all you Jonathan Crane lovers out there:

Face Me...

Dr. Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow x Female Reader (NSFW 18+ only smut)

Summary: You work at Arkham Asylum in Gotham and Dr. Crane has been stalking you for a while, but you are leery of him and have been avoiding him outside of professionalism at all costs. One night though as you are leaving work, he tracks you down at your car to see just what you're so afraid of.

Word Count: ~4,426

Warnings: Semi-rough car sex, non-con elements, forced oral (male receiving), dirty talk/language, slight degradation, hair pulling, slapping, stalker behavior, talk of virginity loss, birth control, Dr. Crane being kind of a creep in general

Note: Reader does not know he is actually Scarecrow! And images above are sourced from Pinterest. This story is based only on Cillian Murphy's version in the Batman films and is my interpretation of the character; I don't own him or any part of the franchise, this is just for fun.

Tonight was swathed in misty sheets of rain in the gritty darkness lightly tainted by the glow of streetlights as your car, parked a few blocks from Arkham Asylum, beeped to unlock and you slung your purse over your shoulder, sighing after a long day and wanting to get home to a hot bath and a drink or two. But a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach at a shadow from your peripheral vision made you hesitate and you squinted through the hazy shower that was tapering off to a light drizzle, dampening your hair.

A suited man, height on the shorter side, was stopped no more than twenty feet away and a jarring jolt rushed to your bones when you saw the street light glint off his narrow framed glasses and you paused, hand on the car door. He was utterly silent and you were unnerved by his stiff posture and oddly clenched fists, half thinking to jump in your four-door-sedan and peel out of his presence, but he then walked forward causally, those hands relaxing and slipping into the pockets of his black slacks.

"Good evening," he called out, stepping into view under a streetlight with a smirk and you clenched your jaw, crossing your arms defensively as he slowly approached, that sick smile never sliding off his features that were - you'd have to admit - frankly handsome... No, beautiful was a better term.

"Why are you stalking me, Dr. Crane?" you asked with edginess to your tired voice. It was late and you didn't even live in Gotham City, you just commuted here for work.

"Stalking? Oh no, I am simply observing," he replied smoothy, but it came off as more snappy and insincere.

"Right... Don't you have somewhere to go?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah, home to my apartment miles away. It's been an exhausting day and too late to be out on the town, so if you're proposing anything, I can't take it tonight."

"It's always a long, late night in Gotham."

He moved within a few feet of you and you swallowed nervously, but remembered a man like him could smell fear, so you put up a brave front.

"So when do you finally fuck off and leave me alone? It's unprofessional to follow someone without their permission, you know. Keep this up and I'll need a restraining order."

"But you always avoid me during work and now you reject my offer for simple company?"

"Company late at night at my car in the rain? And aren't you technically my boss? We aren't friends and I don't know why you're so interested in me, but I don't think you should be. I'm not looking for a man like you. Right now I'm just looking for a nice glass of red wine honestly."

"Really...?" he drew the word out to almost a parodying tone and you pursed your lips.

"Yes, really. Now I bid you goodnight, Dr. Crane." You opened the car door fully, ducking and stepping a foot in when the door caught and you looked up to see him holding it in a firm grip. He was stronger than you expected.

"Stop denying it, I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. Stop hiding and face me once and for all," he insisted darkly.

You took a breath, desperately trying to calm your beating heart and yet the horrible feeling that this evening wasn't going to end on a dull note persisted.

"Don't hurt me, I'll-" you started to warn and his eyebrows shot up with a shake of his head.

"Call the police?" It sounded like mockery from his mouth and you scowled as he continued, his pale hand sprinkled with rainwater sliding up and down the car door frame.

"Hurt you, hm? Well, only if you want me to." He chuckled and you stared at his slightly floppy dewey dark hair and raised eyebrows.

"Why the hell would I want you to hurt me?"

"You tell me. I do know you secretly want something else, don't you? Something more... erotic?"

You scoffed angrily, hating how he was worming his way past your exterior and into attraction, but you couldn't let it happen.

"Take a raincheck. I'm going home." You tried to shut the door but he was still holding it in a death grip, knuckles white and veins bursting out the back of his hand.

"Stop fucking around, I don't have time for this sh-" you cut off your sentence with a yelp as Dr. Crane shoved you inside the backseat of your own car and you landed flat on your back as he came inside to hover over your vulnerable body, wetting his pink lips.

"Please! Don't do this!" you cried out of panic and he leaned back, breathing heavily.

"Don't go anywhere," he warned and you struggled to sit up, throwing your purse up front and he slammed the side door shut, getting more comfortable in the backseat, which you were not pleased about.

"This is MY car, get out," you commanded, but he was as cool as a cucumber as he cleaned his glasses with a cloth from his suit jacket.

"I just want to talk one on one, which we never do outside of the usual board meetings and it can be so boring, always about psychiatry and stats and police reports and this patient and these crazies and-"

"Oh sure you just want to talk. I'm not some kind of naive idiot to the desires of the opposite sex," you rolled your eyes and he scoffed, settling back on the seat with a cross of his legs and looking up to the car ceiling.

"It's so cold and wet tonight, shame we aren't someplace more cozy," he muttered and you awkwardly crawled into the driver's seat with your keys and fumbled to insert them in, starting the ignition.

"What are you doing there?" he asked mildly and even that sounded passive aggressive. God, he sure was insufferable.

"Turning the heat on because you're whining about it. I just wish you'd get out of here, completely violating my privacy."

"This is a public street you're parked on, isn't it? And is this how you treat all passengers?"

"I never have any passengers," you remarked bitterly and Crane leaned forward, putting his hands on the back of the seat and peering around to you as you glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"Indeed. I know you're mostly a loner with almost no friends and orphaned from family or maybe you've lied and they aren't dead and are only estranged... Either way, no one cares and no one understands how you spend office hours in a facility full of the most criminally insane but you do it for the money and to quench your curiosity because deep down, you know - you know you're a freak too who sees no normal in what you have deemed a, oh say... corrupt kind of world."

You swallowed at his assertions and unfortunately fairly accurate reading.

"I don't need sympathy from you of all people," you snapped, putting the heat to full blast. It was freezing tonight and the defrost was battling the condensation filling up the windshield.

"I'm only trying to understand you myself, it's my job to psychoanalyze."

"I'm not one of your patients or experiments," you told him in disgust.

"Every human being is an experiment in the eyes of their creator, which is me for you because I happen to be the one who hired you in the first place. Without me, you would not have a job and therefore I created you in that respect," he replied in absurd smugness.

"Then what am I? Frankenstein's monster?"

His eyes flashed and he adjusted his glasses reflexively.

"I wish. No, you're my first prototype I have yet to diagnose."

You shut the heat off once the internal temperature was fairly toasty and cracked a window down a fraction for circulation. A beat of silence befell until he suddenly climbed into the front, dropping into the passenger seat confidently, and you realized how lithe he was, how easily he fit into spaces not designed for someone with such an overshadowing, all-encompassing ego.

"Now what are you doing?" you asked exasperatedly. He didn't answer and you hated the way looking at him was making your heart flutter despite your anger and the alarm bells ringing in your brain. Something about him was always... very off and you never could quite place your finger on it, he was a blind spot, but it was undeniable. Which was telling considering the people you were exposed to every day.

Crane reached up and removed his glasses entirely with a swipe to set them on the dash and your breath caught with that simple action. You admitted how he was very visually pleasing without those lens obstructing his intense blue colored orbs were. You glanced down and fiddled with the keys when he suddenly snatched them up out of your lap and pocketed them into his own pants with a manic expression.

"Hey, give those back!" you yelled and began to wrestle with him, arms flailing as he held his own above his head, palms up and empty.

"You want those? You have to do something for me first."

"I-Okay, what is it?" You dropped your arms and glared at him suspiciously. He smirked once, speaking with a tremor of excitement.

"If I was civilized, which I'm admittedly not, I'd ask you out on an old fashioned dinner date and then walk you to your door, give you a nice polite kiss and send flowers to your desk on Monday. But I can't wait anymore for that saccharine romantic scenario, so we'll get straight down to business. I want to fuck your brains out, right here in the car."

You blinked, rather stunned.

"I... I-I no, I can't, I mean that's-"

And here was where your confidence utterly failed as he suddenly lunged and grabbed you to pin you down inbetween the passenger and driver seats, head flung upside down almost to the backseat floor and legs helplessly kicking towards the windshield.

"Please, don't do this!" you yelped anxiously.

"Don't tell me you're a virgin who has never had a dick in you before," he whispered, misreading your fearful hesitant expression. Actually, you'd had sex once with a lame boyfriend back in college and since then, avoided the dating and hookup scene, content just to masturbate when you could.

"Oh, fuck, I should've guessed. What a shocking discovery," he wrongly concluded rather sarcastically and you cringed, twisting your head away from his warm breath and ridiculously good looks.

"This makes it all the more interesting, then," he murmured with a feathery caress to your cheek and you flinched, giving him a kick and successfully wriggling out of his grasp to curl up against the door in the backseat.

"I've been waiting a long time for our encounter," he mused, utterly unfazed at the negative reaction.

You immediately went to open the door, ready to run for your life if he became overly threatening, but he hit the button that locked all the doors. You manually unlocked your one door - thank God for that safety feature - but his deadly voice made you freeze.

"Are you quite sure you want to do that?"

"T-This is my ensured vehicle and y-you are violating every right of mine by t-taking over like this," you stated, but your voice was shaking like a leaf through the words.

"That's it, you are afraid of me..." he whispered slowly and the pure delight with pride in his voice was unmistakable. You turned to look at him directly, unable to hide and deny anything any longer.

"I think you are being very inappropriate right now," you admitted nervously.

Crane moved to join you in the backseat, but you felt stuck even though you could technically open the door and make an escape. There was no way he could really stop you, was there? He didn't have a weapon on him, did he?

"If you were really frightened, you would have bolted by now," he said as though reading your thoughts and you gulped, realizing he was right.

"Dr. Crane, I-" you were broken off by him abruptly grabbing your face and kissing you, his tongue sloppily forcing its way into your mouth and you naturally reciprocated while inhaling his sharp stinging scent of expensive cologne. He pulled back with a gasp and a mischievous spark in his eyes that made something awaken deep inside.

"You kissed me," you said in a stunned voice.

"That's precisely what I did, Y/N," he answered with another touch of smugness and you closed your eyes, knowing you were in too deep now. He was going to take this all the way and you felt helpless to stop it. Did you even want to stop him?

"I knew if I exposed myself enough to you, you'd finally stop being immune," Crane told you with a sort of self-righteousness as he ran his hands down your back and shrugged your coat off before moving to your front to remove your blouse carefully, button by button.

"I hate to see such pretty tits contained and so oppressed... Let's free them, shall we?"

He unclasped your bra and removed it, tossing it to the floor and you shivered, goosebumps peppering your bare arms and neck.

"Aww, is it too cold?" He made a pout and privately you wanted to smack those stupid lips right off his condescending face but it was if you were under a spell of a sudden, entranced by his actions and his hypnotic eyes. He trailed his fingers down from your throat to your nipples and you hardened at the stimulation, closing your eyes in regret. Dr. Crane was turning you on, dammit.

"Better than I could imagine..." he breathed, taking in your appearance for a minute while groping your breasts, squeezing, and you gritted your teeth as he teasingly tickled you under your arms, making your breath hitch and a stupid giggle slipped out.

"Sensitive, are we? I promise I won't hurt you."

You leaned back, casting a fretful look out the windows in case of onlookers, but the street was empty and the glass was streaky with rain, creating a thickly translucent rippled covering not unlike a shower curtain.

"No one knows," Crane stated flatly in response to your paranoia while untying his dress shoes and pushing them under the seats. You just nodded, taking off your own and then unzipping your pants the same time he undid his own. His tight dark grey briefs were bulging with his cock and you hesitated, absolutely unsure of what to do when he completely stripped and out popped out his erect glistening-at-the-tip penis in full view.

"Take it in your mouth," Crane ordered abruptly, pushing you down beneath him.

"Um, no I think that's disgus-" Your voice was cut off as you nearly choked; he roughly shoved his cock so fast into your parted mouth. The silky end of his tie tickled your nose as he inched closer, and clearly this was much more enjoyable for him than it was for you as he groaned in building ecstasy and you kept your mouth closed around it, afraid that if you moved, you'd gag or get hurt. He forced your head up a little and bobbed, but you could feel a dribble of precum seeping down your throat and now you reflexed, yanking yourself from him with a loud noise and banging the car door open to cough and spit violently out onto the pavement below.

"Get back in, do you want someone to see us?!" Crane hissed and you felt a sharp tug on your hair as he pulled you back. You shrieked and self defensively twisted to slap him straight in the face. He gasped from the unexpected blow, falling back and banging his head on the opposite window as you spat, wiping your lips of his mess.

"Can't take it like a common whore, can you? Feel like being a goddamn difficult bitch, don't you? Think you're better than me, do you?" he seethed, rubbing his cranium and you huffed.

"I thought you'd just put your dick in me, not that bullshit."

"It's called oral and many women in fact enjoy it."

"How do you know, you've done that before?"

He had a strange expression when he replied briskly.

"I've read up on the concept, you know."

"You've studied about women and sex. Amazing. Is that what you do on your lunch break or...?" you almost laughed, but the way he was staring at you wasn't in a joking manner. He had the look of an inmate one straw away from a full psychotic behavior break down. Basing from your training, you decided to distract his frustrating anger and talk nonchalantly to calm him down.

"Okay, I'm kidding around, I get it, and I don't mean to hate or spite you. Remember when I was initially employed at Arkham, fresh out of college, and I met you for the first time? I personally thought you were extremely cocky and looked waaay too young to be a top psychiatrist in such a grand high security institution. Now I can say with certainty that while you are, um, creative in your methods with the inmates and I do admit I find you very terribly attractive, I have to say Dr. Crane... I still think you're an arrogant son of a bitch."

"Call me Jonathan," he replied, unimpressed by the insult and wrestling off his tie.

"Well, Dr. Jonathan, you sure are a pretty piece of work," you replied with ample attitude and he was fed up, dumping his jacket and shirt from his body and twisting the tie in his fingers. He held it up and a muscle spasmed in face, jaw clenching and enunciating his cheekbones.

"You want me to choke you with this?"

"I'd really prefer you didn't and it would be very nice if you weren't such a dick forcing your sex on me," you answered matter-of-factly.

"Lie down or I'll fucking fire you from your position, understand?" he snapped loudly and was extremely serious as you glared, but then reluctantly laid back obediently on the seats just to avoid complications and he came down swiftly, carefully aligning to position his penis at your entrance. He cautiously touched the moist head to your vaginal lips when you held up a hand onto his chest, stopping him.

"Now hang on doctor, don't you want to warm up first?"

"I'm obviously already warmed up, Miss Y/LN."

"But I don't have lubricant on me, so you're going to have to get me naturally very wet for penetration because right now I'm dry as a bone," you warned for your own protection, but hardly expected him to listen.

"Don't tell me how to do it," he replied, snippy.

"I'm serious, you can't just stick it in there; it will be just as hard for you as it'll be for me and I don't want to end up seeing a gynecologist."

"So you aren't a virgin after all?"

"I had my hymen broken with a loser in the past," you told him and he raised one brown eyebrow, creasing his forehead with a few fine lines.

"Then how should I start, Miss doctor?"

You wordlessly took a hold of his index finger and guided it to your opening and he pressed lightly, feeling pooling liquid.

"You little liar, you're already discharging," he whispered disapprovingly and he massaged your clit in slow jerky rhythm. You nodded in approval, losing your control as he slipped a finger in and moved around enough to make you clench a bit, trapping his digit.

"How does that feel?" he asked almost clinically and you closed your eyes, urging him to put in another finger. He did and you almost orgasmed when he extracted much too soon, sighing.

"This isn't much fun for me," he whined and you made a face, shifting position to spread your legs wider, putting your arms up and accidentally smearing the fogged window with your fingertips. You looked utterly submissive, practically begging to be fucked, to get it over with (so you convinced yourself).

But for all his aggression to trap you in your own car for penetrative sex, Jonathan was now becoming oddly timid as he hesitantly closed the gap between you, realigning his bare body to yours.

"Wait, have you done this before?" you asked suspiciously and he was sheepish in answering.

"I told you, you are my first prototype."

"Shit, you're the virgin here?!" You laughed as though this made this experience any less stressful or partially contrived.

"Do you masturbate?" you then asked and he rolled his eyes.

"What kind of man of do you think I am?"

"Is that yes or no?"

"Doesn't matter, Y/N. Now, let me ask you a more important question: are you on birth control of any type?"

"I..." you hesitated to answer because if you told him 'no' would he go any further? You had pills at home as a precaution, but neglected to ever take them, assuming you'd be remaining single. But you had no intention of getting into a full relationship and certainly not being impregnated by this man.

"I left them at home," you finally answered truthfully.

"I have something for that then," he assured and you stared as he leaned back and rummaged in the pockets of his clothes on the floor. He produced a tiny pill container and dropped a pill into your open palm. You didn't ask why he was carrying around birth control pills, but assumed he had indeed been planning this for a while.

"Don't want any unnecessary side effects of something that I'll have to end up terminating anyway," he muttered bitterly as you popped it in and climbed into the driver's seat to swig some water from your plastic bottle in the cupholder, feeling grateful that at least he didn't administer that Fear Toxin he was always messing around with in the asylum.

"Now can we get started?" Jonathan asked impatiently and you took a breath, easing the front seat down so you were lying parallel to him. Jonathan clamored on top of your naked flesh and straddled you, his cock rubbing up against your thighs, then vaginal area and you squirmed, clutching onto his back. He pushed in gradually, but densely, and you whimpered at the stinging pain and then the growing pleasure bubbling around his cock within your walls and you clenched hard, much harder than you had with his fingers.

"Oh... Fuck, Jonathan..." you groaned and he bounced up and down lightly, thrusting with slaps of skin and you felt your bottom sticking with sweat to the leather seat as he kept at it for several minutes, gripping your hips and nearly plowing you apart. It hurt, no getting around it, and he wasn't privy to what you were feeling as he seemed entirely in his own zone, racing for his pleasure until you moaned loud enough to cause him glance down, realizing you were getting close to free falling off the edge.

"C'mon, you're so close with that pretty little pussy of yours, almost..." Jonathan breathed in your ear and as he hit the spot, finally the climaxing orgasm came with a bang and it was so intense, probably fueled by adrenaline and stress more than actual love, that you emitted a high pitched shrieking whine which trailed into a low moan of relief while it tapered off and he grunted, somehow thrusting even further. Yes, you had minimal experience, but had never ever been penetrated this far before and you dreaded how much longer he could rail you, but thankfully his own orgasm came with a grunting groan as he spilled into you and you held on, digging nails into his shoulder blades and nearly biting his neck. He panted heavily in your ear and his tickle of breath made your stomach flip.

He laid still on top of you for awhile, cock twitching and warming your insides. The windows were fogged up completely and the cold was now non-existent with the heat you and him were creating out of friction alone.

"You enjoy yourself?" you whispered hoarsely to Jonathan as his breathing slowed sluggishly and he looked like he was falling asleep, so you shoved him off your aching body and he blinked, rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah, that was satisfactory. Maybe I should bump up your paycheck."

"I'm not a prostitute, but thank you."

He smiled lazily, eyes rather unfocused, and you pulled your seat up with the lever, reaching for his glasses on the dash and handing them back to him. He, in turn, retrieved the car keys from his pants and tossed them back to you with a clanging jingle.

Casting a look around your car, there were streaky handprints on the fogged glass, thin swipes of fingers and imprinted palms decorating the back windows and you reached over to one and drew a heart outline in a patch of blank space. Jonathan's own finger speared through it, making a arrow.

"Very romantic," you commented sarcastically and moved to join him in the backseat as he started to draw a creepy face reminiscent of a familiar spooky icon (a clown? Maybe a scarecrow?) when he stopped and checked his watch.

"I need to go," Jonathan coldly stated out of the blue and began to hastily gather up his clothing, awkwardly dressing before he stepped outside and zipped up his pants, and inhaled the late October city air, somewhat out of breath. The rain had stopped and the skies were clearing, the full pearly white moon slicing through the curtain of storm clouds, and you drew your blouse around yourself with a shiver before sliding into underwear, realizing you'd never look at Dr. Crane the same since this intimately raw experience.

"So I'll be seeing you around tomorrow...?" you wondered aloud and although you meant for that to be purely work related, he clearly took it the other direction.

"Oh, I'll be seeing you." He smirked knowingly and then slammed the car door closed in your face, leaving you sore and to reel from whatever the hell this twisted specimen of a man just put you through. Did you like it?

Maybe.

Thanks for reading 🖤 First time writing for Jonathan Crane, so I hope this was halfway decent!

[mysaintkitten]

hii first of all i just wanna say your writing is amazing & you are so very talented 🤍!!!! every time i see you’ve posted something i can’t wait to read it :]

anyway!! i was hoping i could request a jonathan crane x reader fic in which he gets jealous and protective over his gf <3 reader is really pretty (like one of those pinterest or ig baddies) and not the type of girl people typically picture a doctor dating lmaoaoao but he gets jealous n stuff bc people hit on her 😭 ugh i’m rambling now but ty ily 🤍

thank you so so much !! you are so kind !! i appreciate it very very much !! ilyt !!

Claimed | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

prompt: someone tries to flirt with you at an event, and jonathan doesn’t take it lightly (NSFW!! NO MINORS!!)

WARNINGS: brief awkward interactions with pushy men, mentions of spiked drinks/possible death, implications of murders/killing, unprotected sex (p in v), jonathan and reader are both possessive, breeding/pregnancy kink, squirting, creampie

word count: 4.3k *not proofread*

“sweetheart, we’ve gotta go soon!” jonathan calls out to you from the front room. he stands in front of a large full body mirror making some final adjustments before he leaves. he takes a deep breath and slides a small syringe into his pocket. hopefully he won’t have to use it, but tonight could be hectic.

there’s a large event in gotham tonight and jonathan wants to make sure he looks his absolute best before showing up. though, he doesn’t think he’ll have to worry so much. with you on his arm, he doubts anyone will be paying much attention to his looks.

jonathan wasn’t an ugly man by any means, but you’ve lost track of how many times people told you that you’re out of his league. you didn’t see it. he’s handsome, smart, and sweet. well, sweet towards you, at least. and that’s what mattered.

“i’m coming, just hold on!” you shout back from the bedroom as you slip on your heels. you quickly walk towards the vanity before flattening our your dress and shifting it around so it hugs your body just right. once you’re happy, you head out and meet jonathan in the front room. as soon as he sees you, his anxiety begins to fade and a proud grin appears on his lips.

“darling ..” he coos as he begins to take a few steps to meet you in the middle. he runs his hands along your arms and kisses you softly, making sure he doesn’t ruin your makeup in any way.

“do i look nice?” you ask, jonathan chuckles breathily. “you look stunning, my love. now come on, we’ve gotta go.”

you sigh as he lightly grabs your wrist and starts to lead you outside, “nothing wrong with being fashionably late, jon.”

the drive to the event is rather quiet, you stare out the window, jonathan stays fixated on the road with his hand on your thigh. after a few minutes pass and you begin to arrive closer to the event jonathan decides to give you a brief rundown of what to expect.

“all right, these people will be obnoxious. and pretentious. and dull. but all you have to do is smile and nod and look pretty, okay?” jonathan asks sweetly. he’s not exactly asking you, he’s telling you. but you don’t mind, this is his event after all, you’re really just there to be eye candy. a subtle little ‘fuck you’ to the people who doubted him and his abilities to find love. jonathan was perpetually single for years until he met you, and the people around him made it their mission to never allow him to forget it. but you flipped a switch within him. his soft, gentle side began to spill out more and more. although he still definitely kept his cold and calculated side, he just tried to keep it away from you as best he could.

jonathan pulls up to the gotham museum where the event is being held. there’s a handful of people outside, standing and talking, but the real business is going down inside. you start to feel a bit nervous, you knew this event was going to be big, but this was more than you had anticipated.

you glance over to jonathan and flash him a smile, hoping to convey authentic happiness, but when you see him frown slightly in response you realize you weren’t very convincing.

“it’ll be all right, darling. i promise. you can cling to my arm the entire night, no one will bother you.” he whispers, petting the side of your face gently, “they know what i’m capable of.”

the implication of violence gave you chills. it was hot knowing how evil and dangerous he could be, while on the flip side be so affectionate and loving. he’d get down on all fours for you, kiss the ground you walk on. he had never felt that way about anyone, not in the slightest. in fact, he held partial animosity towards most people. some stronger than others. after years of being picked on and ridiculed, it’s not surprising he felt this way.

you nod at his words and form a genuine smile, making jonathan smile in return.

“let’s head inside.” he hums.

you exit the car with jonathan and begin to approach the museum, already noticing people look your way and whisper amongst themselves. you wrap your arm around jonathan’s, holding him close as you enter the event.

as you’re inside for merely a few moments, taking in the scenery and people around you, you hear someone shout from afar.

“crane!”

you and jonathan’s heads shoot over to the direction of the shout, where you’re met with a man you’ve never seen before. you feel a bit worried, but then you look over at jonathan who’s smiling. you begin to relax, if he’s not worried, you’re not worried.

the man is finally face to face with jonathan, where he grins widely and sticks out his hand. jonathan laughs and shakes the man’s hand, “been a while, hasn’t it?”

jonathan notices your confusion and breaks the handshake to speak to you, “darling, this is a friend of mine from university, his name is dr. fiske.”

you’ve heard of dr. fiske before. jonathan said he was his only friend throughout university. it’s nice to finally put a face to a name. you smile shyly at him and stick your hand out to shake his hand, “pleasure to meet you.”

he shakes your hand and nods, “same to you, miss.”

“is this your girl, crane?” dr. fiske asks, a smirk forming on his face as he drops your hand.

jonathan nods while grinning proudly, “she’s all mine.”

“look at jonny go!” he exclaims happily, smacking jonathan’s arm playfully. jonathan laughs and shrugs, “i know, i know. i got very lucky.”

you can’t help but smile at his words, he always made sure you knew how much he appreciated you and how lucky he got with you. but to hear him tell it to others really solidified his love for you, you’d never been put on such a pedestal by a partner before.

“well, i won’t hold you guys up. it was nice to see you crane, and it was nice to meet you ma’am.” dr. fiske adds before leaving to head to another area of the event.

the night goes well. jonathan talks to people, and you do as he asked. smiled, nodded, looked pretty. and he was right, these people were like parasites. energy leeches. it was becoming more and more difficult to feign this contentment when your annoyance was beginning to boil inside of you. you can only hear so many rich pricks ramble about how great they are in one night.

luckily, the conversations begin to fizzle out.

“would you like to get a drink?” jonathan questions, already knowing what your response will be.

“yes, please.” you sigh with relief. it would be much easier to pretend to be interested if you were drunk, but having to do all this sober was really putting your acting skills to the test.

jonathan chuckles and leads you to the bar, “stay here for a moment, darling. i need to use the restroom. don’t move, i’ll be right back. order yourself whatever you’d like.”

he gives you a quick peck on the cheek before heading off to the bathroom. you really didn’t want to be alone surrounded by people you didn’t know. but you’re grown, and you remember what jonathan said. they know what i’m capable of.

“gin and tonic, please.” you order politely, the bartender mumbles and begins to make your drink.

as you stand there, clicking your nails against the counter while you wait, you’re disrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

“here all by yourself, hun?”

you quickly swing around with a confused expression on your face, and you’re met with an extremely tall stranger that reeks of alcohol. you have no idea who this man is, or why he’s decided to talk to you out of all people. of course this would happen the moment jonathan leaves your side.

“uh .. no, actually. i’m here with my boyfriend.” you respond flatly as you hear the sound of the bartender placing your drink down behind you, you thank them and grab your drink, bringing it up to your lips and taking a small sip.

“well .. he doesn’t seem to be around, love.” the man noticed while slurring, “doesn’t he know better than to leave a pretty thing like you unattended?”

“he’ll be back soon. and trust me, he will not be happy to see you talking to me.” you warn, feeling irritated at this man’s inability to take no for an answer.

he clicks his tongue and tilts his head, “aw. can’t even have a conversation with you? that’s too bad .. i’ll give him something to get angry over ..” he laughs as his hand begins to meet your hip, you push his chest back firmly, spilling a bit of your drink in the process.

“don’t touch me!” you snap, hoping to god that jonathan hurries up and saves you.

“sweetheart ..” the man chuckles lowly, putting his hands up defensively, “relax, now. what your little boyfriend can’t see won’t hurt him, right?” he whispers as he reaches to touch your hips again.

you go to push him again, “i said don’t touch me!”

in the midsts of your rage, your eyes meet with jonathan. he may be far away, but you can tell he’s fuming. he nudges people out of the way and quickly strides over to you, his expression becoming angrier by the moment. suddenly, he’s behind the man’s back with a drink in his hand. his gaze burning into the back of his head.

“is there a problem here?” jonathan growled, the man turns around and scoffs. jonathan’s visibly shorter than the man, but that doesn’t faze jonathan in the slightest. the man scoffs at him, “not at all, man. just chatting with this lovely lady.”

jonathan’s gaze switches to you, and you shake your head slightly, trying to convey to jonathan that you didn’t want to talk to this man at all. he knew what you were trying to say, and he knew this wasn’t your fault.

“interesting,” jonathan responds unamused, “well hopefully you’ve said all you needed to say. come on, darling. let’s go.”

he reaches his hand out for you and you quickly latch onto him, avoiding making eye contact with the unfamiliar man.

he laughs, “wait wait, this is your boyfriend? jesus.”

jonathan wanted to leave as soon as possible to avoid causing a scene, but these little digs were making it harder for him to think rationally.

“yup. she’s all mine.” jonathan sighs, “feel free to look. but you cannot touch.”

the man laughs, not realizing how scarily serious jonathan is being. the energy is making you extremely uncomfortable. he swallows and forces a smile, “here, man. no hard feelings.”

jonathan hands his drink over to the man, to which he accepts it and nods. “yeah man, no hard feelings.” he mumbles while taking a sip. you’re confused. jonathan has never behaved like this. normally, he’d resort to getting violent, yet he gave this man a drink like it was some sort of reward.

you clench harder on jonathan’s arm and the two of you turn to leave, you hear the man make one final comment from behind you;

“keep me in mind, sweetheart. i know you’ll be thinking about me.”

you shudder from discomfort, speeding up your pace as you head towards the door.

once in the car, you sit awkwardly in the passenger seat, unable to relax.

jonathan gets into the drivers seat and slams the door, “goddamn prick ..” he groans, aggressively putting on his seatbelt.

“baby, i’m sorry, he came up to me and he wouldn’t take no for an answer ..” your voice trails off as you can’t figure out what else to say

“no, no, darling, it’s not you ..” he assures, “it’s that stupid fucking bastard in there. who does he think he is? what makes him think he’s worthy of your attention?” though jonathan knows you wouldn’t betray him like that, he’s irritated at the man’s attempt.

you rub jonathan’s arm, “he’s arrogant. and he’s probably never been told no in his life .. he couldn’t win me over if he was the last man on earth.”

jonathan huffs and begins to drive off, you remember how jonathan gave him his drink.

“baby?” you whisper, interlocking your fingers with his,

“hm?” he responds, not taking his eyes off the road,

“why’d you give him your drink?”

he grins while remembering, “well, i couldn’t drink it anyway. i had to drive us home.”

that makes sense now that you think about it, maybe he was offered a drink and accepted it to be nice.

“and i slipped something into the drink.”

your expression drops, “what?”

jonathan just shrugs and continues to grin, “he needs to learn a lesson. i guess he just didn’t know what i’m capable of, but now he’ll know.”

what you didnt know at the time was as jonathan began to approach you, he slipped the syringe out of his pocket (which you didn’t even know about to begin with) and squirted the concoction into the drink hastily. your heart starts to race a bit, a mixture of fear and admiration. he really would do whatever to protect you. you don’t know how severely he’s hurt this man, whether the drink will simply knock him out or flat out kill him. you didn’t know, and that gave you a rush. he was already tipsy anyway, whatever happens to him won’t get pinned on jonathan.

“i’d do whatever for you, darling. anything.” he hums, clenching your hand harder, “i know, i know ..” you agree, “i’d do anything for you, too. i’m yours.”

he groans and loosened his grip on your hand, shifting your hand down lower between his legs, “all mine, pretty girl. all mine.”

you gasp softly as he guides your hand to his growing bulge, “you get so many men all worked up, baby .. yet i’m the one that gets to touch you, and hear all those pretty noises you make as you come undone.”

you run your hand along his clothed cock without his guidance and you feel yourself becoming aroused as your thighs tense together, the intensity of the situation was making your heart pound and your mind foggy.

before you know it, he’s pulled up outside of the house.

“get inside, go into the bedroom. i expect to see you ready by the time i get there.” he purrs, you hum while taking your hand off of his bulge, quickly heading inside and shutting the door behind you before kicking off your shoes. before you’re even near the bedroom you begin to unzip your dress, giggling quietly as you hear jonathan enter through the front door, locking it behind him while sliding off his shoes.

as you stand in the bedroom, you fully slide the dress off, tossing it on top of the hamper before quickly unclasping your bra and sliding off your panties. you scramble, slightly breathlessly, onto the bed, and lay back as you wait patiently for him.

a few moments later, jonathan enters, sighing at what he sees.

“oh, my girl ..” he purrs, walking over to the bed before crawling onto it, planting kisses on your ankles as he works his way up your legs, “so well behaved .. all for me ..” he praises as his kisses make their way to your thighs, where you slowly spread your legs apart for him. he groans at your pussy, continuing his desperate kisses along your inner thigh.

“look at that pussy ..” he hums lowly while using his index and middle finger to spread your lips apart, “god. i’ve killed men over this cunt, you know that, darling?”

you whimper at his tone as you shake your head, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth while staring down at him.

“well ..” he coos while sliding a finger inside of you, “i have. i’ve kept track of the men that have harassed you, hurt you, annoyed you, hell, even the men that looked at you the wrong way. notice how you’ve never seen them again?”

the more you think about it, the more you realize you never had to deal with these men more than once. the incident would occur, you’d tell jonathan, and he’d take care of it. it’s sickeningly attractive to know how far jonathan will go for you, knowing how absolutely pussy whipped you’ve made him.

you gasp as he slowly fucks you with his middle finger, your mind finding it hard to focus on one specific thing.

“for .. for me?” you whimper, feeling yourself becoming slicker

“all for you, my love.” he sighed against your thigh as he continues to place small kisses along your inner thighs, his lips inching closer to your swollen clit, “all for you.” he whispers one last time before suckling gently on your clit while continuing to finger you, sneaking a second finger in while you writhe beneath him.

“o-oh ..” you moan, “jonathan, please ..”

your pussy clenches around his fingers and he hums against your clit, slipping a third finger in as you whimper loudly,

“j-jonathan, please!” you mewl, snaking your fingers down into jonathan’s head and tightly locking your fingers into his hair, he briefly pulls off and continues to finger you while groaning “let me taste your pretty pussy for a bit longer, darling ..”

your cheeks burn at his praise, your thighs beginning to twitch around his head as you become wetter, the sounds of his slick tongue and drenched fingers become even louder. lewd squelches and soft whimpers are all that can be heard, along with jonathan’s occasional hums against your clit.

he can feel you become close, he’s able to recognize your involuntary jolts and twitches all too well. he pulls his fingers out and takes his lips off you, huffing quietly as he brings his slick fingers up to his mouth and sucking the arousal off.

the dirty act makes your chest flutter, he’s so desperate to taste each and every drop of you, trying his absolute hardest to make sure none of it goes to waste. once his fingers are cleaned, he brings his hands down to his zipper and button, where he urgently unbuttons and unzips his pants.

“who do you belong to, baby?”

“‘m yours, jon ..” you moan, batting your lashes at him. he groans as his jaw hangs slightly slack while he tugs his pants down, his cock nearly bursting out of his boxers. he palms himself while staring down at you, “‘n who do i belong to?” he smirks,

it rarely crossed your mind that the possessiveness went both ways, you were normally so enamoured by jonathan and his admiration for you that you rarely considered anyone else as a threat. but occasionally, jonathan would get hit on in front of you, and it would make you immensely angry and insecure. he’d barely even look in the same direction as other women, yet they’d still somehow think that was a sign to approach him. he’d shoot them down harshly. even the women that you felt could easily take your place, jonathan’s loyalty towards you never faltered. he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t have to go to the same limits that he would to keep outsiders eyes off of you.

you shake those thoughts aside to respond to him while biting your lip, “you’re mine ..”

he hums in approval while sliding down his boxers, both the boxers and his pants now sitting at his mid thigh, “that’s right, darling.”

he inches his hips forward and runs his cock head along your folds, spreading the slick around before teasing your clit with his tip. pressing against the bud and gently moving his cock side to side, watching as you wriggled at the teasing.

he chuckles and dips his cock back to your opening, slowly sliding just his tip in before pulling it back out, fucking you agonizingly slow with the head.

“d’you know how many men are gonna be jerking off to the thought of you? ‘n how many of them wish they could just get a glimpse of your pussy .. let alone sit here and tease it ..” he breathed, beginning to slowly side more of his cock inside you. your breath hitches at the developing fullness, “more .. please ..”

“aw, poor baby,” he coos almost condescendingly, “you want me to fuck you properly?”

you nod mindlessly and huff, purposefully clenching around him in hopes of getting him to put his full length inside. it partially works, you think, as he groans and slides more inside, still not bottoming out yet.

“use your words, darling.” jonathan commands, halting his movements again and leaving just his tip inside once more.

“please, jonathan .. please fuck me properly ..” you whimper embarrassingly, as those words leave your mouth he laughs breathily before sliding his full length in, nearly knocking the wind out of you as he thrusts back out and pounds into you again. he forms a quick, rough pace that makes you nearly cry with pleasure.

“o-oh, mmh, fuck!” you whine loudly, your back arching as jonathan’s cock forcefully hits your most sensitive areas.

“this cunts all mine, you hear me?” he groans while gripping your thigh with one hand and grabbing your face with the other, “if i wanna fuck it, slap it, breed it, abuse it, whatever i want. it’s mine. right, baby?”

you nod quickly with furrowed brows, pathetic little mewls falling from your lips as you stare at him through your lashes. you loved this duality about jonathan. sometimes you’d purposefully rile him up just to get him to fuck you angrily and almost animalistic. sometimes, he’ll make love to you and praise you the entire time like you’re a goddess that’s a blessing on this earth, other times he’d fuck you like you’re a filthy whore that’s sole purpose is to be stuffed full of cock. you needed both in moderation. right now, you were long overdue for one of his dirty rough fucks, so it’s kind of nice the way things panned out tonight.

“wanna breed this pussy so goddamn bad .. you like how that sounds, sweetheart? you want me to fuck a baby into you?” he purrs, his grip on your face and hip still tight, you nod and moan loudly, “y-yes, jonathan!”

he chuckles before quickly switching to a low groan as he feels you become slicker around him, “god .. you’re gonna look so fucking good all nice ‘n full .. i’ll make you my wife .. you want that, hm?”

“yes, yes!” you ramble as your mind goes blank, it feels nearly primal. like deep down, you’re just two ravenous, hungry creatures who need each others bodies and want to reproduce. that’s all humans are really meant to do, isn’t it?

“good girl .. such a good girl .. i’ll take such good care of you and our baby, darling ..” he hums, “open your mouth for me ..”

you lazily open your mouth and stick out your tongue, small whimpers being punched out of you as you do so. after grinning at how malleable you are in his hands, he spits in your mouth. he doesn’t even need to tell you to swallow, you do it anyway.

“that’s it, god you’re fucking perfect ..” he praised, it made you feel so dirty, your mind running on overdrive at the intense amounts of pleasure. you hadn’t even realized how close you were until you felt yourself beginning to slowly tip over the edge. this didn’t feel like your normal orgasms though, you felt something different within you.

suddenly, through jonathan’s harsh thrusts, your orgasm spills out of you while you whimper loudly. the clear liquid poured out of you and dampened the blanket beneath you along with jonathan’s pants. you twitch at the after shocks of your orgasm and jonathan’s pace never slows, “look at that .. drenched my fuckin’ pants baby ..”

“i’m sorry, ‘m sorry i couldn’t control it ..” you apologize as your cheeks flush from the embarrassment, you had never squirted before, and now you feel partially guilty for ruining his pants. not too guilty, though, because your other senses are still being dulled by the feeling of his cock pounding into you.

“no, don’t apologize, sweet girl .. ‘s cute .. made you feel so good, you made such a mess ..” he soothes, loosening his grip on you face and sliding his hand down to grip the other side of your hip with his now free hand.

his thrusts begin to get shaky and his breaths get heavier, “gonna come- fuck, baby, ‘m gonna come ..” he huffs through gritted teeth, his eyes shutting tightly as his grips get harsher. after a few more pumps, he’s coming inside you. groaning lowly as he holds your hips tightly against his, making sure he shoots his load as deeply inside of you as he can.

he thrusts a few more times to really get his come in there before slowly pulling out his softening cock. he leans back on his knees, you scan him up and down from between your legs. his cheeks are pink, his hair is messy, his forehead is sweaty, his glasses have slid down the middle of his nose bridge, his chest rises and falls laboredly, and his almost fully soft cock sits between his legs, his pants still around his thighs with a large visible damp mark from when you had orgasmed.

once he’s caught his breath, jonathan speaks;

“maybe other men should flirt with you more often.” he chuckles.

—

i have to be honest, i don’t think this is good at all, but i hope you guys at least like it! i’m sorry it’s taken me a while! i’ll be back on track soon! :)

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Masterlist (Cillianmesoftlyyy)

Last updated: 3/16/24

As requested, here yah go my lovelies! Series are indented separately to keep them together. One-shot stories are listed in numbered format. Requested fics have a "⭐️"

Neil Lewis:

The Gumshoe is a Girl's Best Friend (fluff)

Horror Movies (smut) Horror Movies Pt 1 Horror Movies Pt2

As You Wish (smut) As You Wish Pt 1 As You Wish Pt 2 ⭐️

Tommy Shelby:

In Love, in War (smut): In Love, in War Pt 1 In Love, in War Pt 2 In Love, in War Pt 3 In Love, in War Pt 4 In Love, in War Pt 5

At the Cabaret (smut): At the Cabaret Pt 1 At the Cabaret Pt 2 At the Cabaret Pt 3 At the Cabaret Pt 4 At the Cabaret Pt 5

Cillian Murphy:

Under the Weather (fluff)

Method Acting (smut)

So New (fluff)

Like a Good Neighbor... (smut)

Cut the Shit-delusion, Sweetheart (fluff)

Nerves (smut) ⭐️

Dr. Jonathan Crane:

The Experiment (smut + my first work) The Experiment Pt 1 The Experiment Pt 2 The Experiment Pt 3

I Can Fix That... (smut) I Can Fix That Pt 1 I Can Fix That Pt 2 I Can Fix That Pt 3

Jonathan Breech:

The Ward (smut) The Ward Pt 1 The Ward Pt 2 The Ward Pt 3

Tom (The Party 2017):

Sweet Revenge (smut)

Agent Lenny Miller (Anna 2019):

How About It, Agent Miller? (smut)

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

God made girls lethal, when he made monsters of men.

Jonathan Crane x psycho!reader PART TWO

PART ONE

warnings - blood, gore, attempted sexual assault, death.

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN - request here

*************************

You’re sessions with Jonathan began to dwindle. No matter how much you screamed, bit, scratched and attacked the other shrinks, demanding to see Jonathan, no one would let you. Always claiming that he had other patients he deemed more severe.

“BULLSHIT!” You screamed. If he wanted dangerous, boy, was he gonna get dangerous.

That was how Jonathan Crane sauntered down the hall and into your cell where he saw you, straight jacket on, strapped down to a wooden chair, held by three guards. Your smile dribbled blood out of your red mouth.

“There are easier ways to get my attention than biting off a guy’s ear.” He sounded almost bored and this made you whimper.

“Well they clearly weren’t working as I asked for you a million times and you NEVER CAME!” Your voice rose into a shrill scream for the last words. But he didn’t even flinch. Instead he kneeled down in front of your shaking form and stroked your soft cheek.

“Now, now darling. There, there. I haven’t been a very good psychiatrist have I?”

“No.” You softly whimpered out.

“No. I’ve been neglecting you haven’t I?" He cooed. Your body softened at his caring words. You meekly nodded.

The guards around you were confused but one sharp glare from Jonathan shut them up and they daren’t look at your intimate moment any longer.

From then on, Jonathan allowed the two of you to have weekly meetings. But they weren’t designed to analyse you, but rather to court you.

He would come and sit down with you and you would talk for hours. About movies, books, games etc.

Some days he would bring you little treats. Secret chocolates, a teddy bear. One day he even brought a hairbrush and he sat behind you and the whole session consisted of him lightly brushing out the tangled locks of your unkept mane. No words were said. But it was ecstacy.

Your favourite gift was when he presented you with a white rose.

“What are those red splotches?” You enquired looking at the streaks which littered the pure base.

“You see I cut myself on the thorn and some dropped on the rose. I was going to get you a new one but I couldn’t help but be so intrigued by it. It really adds something, don’t you think?”

In lieu of a reply you merely reached forward and grabbed his hand where you could see the healing scar. Without breaking his gaze you leant forward and took the whole finger into your mouth. Jonathan struggled to hold back a moan as you salivated at the still iron taste.

In his time with you, Jonathan had noted the keen interest some of the male guards had in you. He sometimes laughed it off believing their stupidity knew no bounds if they were willing to take you on. But he couldn’t help but worry for you.

“God I wouldn’t mind taking a bit of that ass.”

“Are you serious dude? That bitch is crazy. Proper stone cold psychopath.”

“Don’t worry, she’s being sedated well enough, or at least she will be soon. She won’t give us any problems.”

Jonathan overheard the guards from the outside of the break room door.

Since meeting you he had become enraptured. Enchanted by your very being. He viewed you as the most sacred relic he could ever dare to possess. He knew your strength was unimaginable. But you were his. And no one messed with his Queen.

One day you were being transported from your session with Jonathan, who had now deemed it fit to have the sessions in his office rather than your cell. The two guards, who flanked your sides, spoke over you in silent code. Once they had deemed the corridor completely empty. They grabbed your sides, still held in the straight jacket, and began to drag you towards an abandoned closet. Taking your pants and underwear off on the way. Their intentions clearly immoral.

It took you by such surprise that you barely had time to react. You were not used to being manhandled but the shock of the moment meant you couldn’t clear your head enough to launch a good enough attack.

Before the three of you were over the doors precipice, a loud voice announced their exit from their office.

Jonathan called out to ask the two men a question, to which they responded after manoeuvring you out of a compromising position. He shot you a single glance before explaining how he would prefer to walk you back to your cell as well, as, in his words,

“I don’t want her to give you any problems.” with a knowing glint in his eye.

That night the two same guards were summoned to your cell.

They stood to the side of where you sat slumped in your chair. The previous encounter had scarred you and weakened your own sense of self. They were just men, you had killed them before. Why was it so hard now. What was this weak feeling and why did it make you want to scream.

However, your self-sabotaging thoughts were halted the minute Jonathan’s lean frame entered. His soft smile landed on your frame which appeared to have shrunk in the presence of the two guards. This lit a fire deep within his heart.

He brought his briefcase up to the table and popped it open. He pulled out a macabre clown mask, decorated with black and red. He walked forward, whistling as he went, and placed it on your face. You were unable to resist, but deep down you didn’t want to. You trusted Jonathan.

He returned to his briefcase, sat down, took off his glasses, and looked deep into your eyes.

“Would you like to see my mask.” He condescendingly teased.

He pulled out a ratty burlap sack which you noted had stitching which resembled a face. He placed it on his head and immediately pressed a hidden button which released a sulphuric green gas into the air. It was then you noted the breathing device attached to your own mask.

Jonathan bared his knuckles on the table and used it to raise himself into a godlike stance.

You were startled by the bloodcurdling screams which erupted from the two men behind you. You whipped around to see them collapse to the floor, writhing about in pain. Both looking and pointing up at Jonathan in pure god-fearing terror.

Suddenly, they both seized. Their last moments of fear etched onto their faces like stone. Their hearts had gone.

You tilted your head to look down, interestedly, at the two corpses. You turned back around when you felt a presence at your back.

Jonathan stood over you, masked and all. His hand outreached.

“Scarecrow will never hurt you, my love.”

You carefully lifted up your own mask to reveal a teeth-chattering grin plastered over your sadistic expression.

*************************

PART THREE

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite @jellyzelek @kaylamarie306-blog @bloodcanbehot @lazybot @raineeace @thearieunhinged @multifans-things @queenofterrasen418 @bey0ndne0 @justanotherkpopstanlol @iamliterallyspidergwen @frozenhuntress67 @alice2612 @slut4thebroken @akiratoro420 @astheni-a

[prettypeppermint]

jonathan.

for dr. j. crane.

You looked like a fairy cuddled up in a perfectly curved, perfectly velvety petal as your naked peaks and valleys cradled into his strong figure. You felt safe in his firmness. He felt like home.

His hand tapped at your thigh, matching the rhythm of his heart, as his other hand gripped an open book by the spine. Your knees were tucked; cheek and palm on the ebb and flow of his lungs; breaths steady and deep. You could lay here for hours: naked and languid and melting into his stalwart huskiness.

You looked up at him--at the slight crescents between his brows and the piercing focus of his irises as they glided across the page. Something in his jaw would twitch every now and then, and his Adam's apple would bob as he swallowed a stoic thought. He felt your head move and peered down, and all he saw were your eyes--that ravishingly, undeniably feminine gaze.

Your love would've been a dangerous game with anyone else. But with him, you felt like nothing could ever hurt you. You felt invincible. Because he was the one who held you at night--who you would cry on and nestle up to when you had a nightmare.

"What's on your mind, pretty girl? Hm?" He brought his arm up to your small head and petted your hair, his long eyelashes dampening his gaze as it melted into yours.

The way he looked at you; it was as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Oh, and his voice--rugged with fatigue and slick from hours of silence. You loved hearing your name slip from his throat and jump off his tongue as if it belonged somewhere deep in his core.

You felt your eyelids grow heavy as his palm continually smoothed your hair down in gentle herculean motions. Protection and safeness radiated from his every fiber. You never felt so treasured.

"Nothing," you sighed, breaking eye contact as you rested your cheek on his chest once more. His lips made their way to the top of your head as he gave you a soft peck before continuing to glide his palm down your shiny hair. After a moment of silence which swelled with the intermingling of your peaceful breaths, you added, "I want to stay like this forever. With you." It came out groggy as you drifted off in his arms.

A quiet smile tugged at his lip. "I'll make sure of it. Just for you."

It was the last thing you heard before waking up to cold sheets and an empty bed. You knew he had to flee in the middle of the night. You knew it was to keep you safe. You sat on your knees with your calves splayed out, your wispy locks of hair tickling your bare shoulders. On the pink, satin pillow next to you was a note:

My girl,

I'm sorry for yet another late-night disappearance. Trouble in paradise, it seems.

I've left you a gift underneath your pillow. Use it when you need me and I'm not there.

I love you always, Jonathan.

Your fingers slipped under the mound of satin and prodded at something cold and metal, but not foreign in your grasp. Pulling it out from underneath the pillow, your slender fingers wrapped around the barrel of a Weble-Fosbery automatic revolver.

A single pink ribbon had been neatly wrapped around the grip, adorning it with a small, powder pink bow. As you brought the firearm closer to your face, you noticed your initials carved into the frame in pretty, cursive letters.

Just for you.

x.

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

Office Hours/Bells - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (Part 1)

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 12 640

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, Professor x Student, mild body horror, fear gas, lowkey prey/predator kink (chasing), kidnapping

Summary: Y/n, a university student, forms an unexpected friendship with Professor Jonathan Crane. But are his intentions what he says they are?

A/N: This one accidentally became a bit of a slow-burn but hey! it is what is~ I didn't know which one to call this so I just did both 💀 My initial plan for this was just a short one, around 2k-3k words... guess that didn't work out. A lot of it may be repetitive, so apologies A/N: This one accidentally became a bit of a slow-burn but hey! it is what is~ I didn't know which one to call this so I just did both 💀 My initial plan for this was just a short one, around 2k-3k words... guess that didn't work out. A lot of it may be repetitive, so apologies - (Part 2) (Part 3)

-

Y/n entered the psychology lecture hall, the familiar scent of old textbooks and the low hum of whispered conversations enveloping her as she took her usual seat near the front. The lecture hall was spacious, rows of worn-out seats filled with few students, as most dropped the class within the first week, due to the Professors harsh attitude. As she settled in, her eyes wandered to the front of the room, where Professor Crane's desk stood. He usually entered on the dot so it wasn’t strange to see his desk empty. 

The sound of the office door's wide swing echoed through the hall, Professor Crane walking in, his presence evoked a collective hush in the lecture room. As if choreographed, he navigated the room with an air of precision, placing his meticulously organized files and papers onto the desk.

Professor Crane wasted no time, setting the tone for the day's lesson. It became immediately apparent to every student that patience was not a virtue Professor Crane indulged in. The swift, deliberate motion of his hand grabbed a piece of chalk, and with a decisive sweep, he began writing the day's lesson on the board.

-

As the lesson drew to a close, marking the end of another lengthy lecture, Y/n found herself grappling with the weight of the information presented. Despite her best efforts to remain focused, the sheer volume of content in today's lesson proved to be a challenge for her to fully absorb. The struggle to grasp the concept left her feeling both mentally fatigued, yearning for a moment of rest.

“If there’s any trouble, my office hours are available for help,” Professor Crane finished, as the students left. 

Despite being aware of the option to attend Professor Crane's office hours, Y/n hesitated, daunted by the intimidating presence of the man. The memory of him calling on classmates during class, casually degrading them when they struggled to grasp concepts, lingered in her mind. The thought of engaging in a one-on-one conversation with him only stirred up anxiety. Opting against visiting Professor Crane's office, Y/n retreated to her dorm. 

-

Back in her dorm, Y/n sank into her desk chair, frustration evident on her face. The psychology book lay open before her, its pages a source of bewilderment. Despite her earnest attempts to comprehend the material covered in class, the concept continued to slip through her grasp. With a sigh of exasperation, she tossed her pen onto the desk, leaning back into her chair.

The struggle was real, and Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of being lost in a sea of incomprehension. Even reaching out to fellow classmates had proven futile, as they too found themselves in the dark. The weight of confusion hung heavy in the air, leaving Y/n grappling with the unsettling realization that she may have to push her anxieties away for help.

Glancing at her class calander she made at the beginning of the year, Y/n noticed that Professor Crane had office hours scheduled a couple of hours before tomorrows class. A moment of contemplation ensued, marked by the rhythmic bouncing of her leg. Eventually, she reasoned that giving it a shot couldn't hurt. After all, even if Professor Crane were to belittle her, at least there wouldn't be an audience to witness any potential humiliation.

-

The following morning, Y/n gathered her books and essentials, preparing for another day at the university. As she stepped onto the campus, her destination clear, she headed towards Professor Crane's office. Each step felt burdened, her legs heavy with nervousness that clung to her as she approached the looming encounter.

Standing in front of Professor Crane's office door, Y/n took a shaky breath before knocking. The response came swiftly, "Come in," in Professor Crane's authoritative voice.

Twisting the handle, she entered the room. Professor Crane, engrossed in some papers, looked up as she stepped in. Y/n found herself at a loss for words, her shyness momentarily stifling her thoughts.

Breaking the silence, Professor Crane inquired, "Can I help you with something?"

Caught off guard, Y/n stammered, "Uh, yes, sorry. I was, umm, trying to go over the things we learned yesterday, but I had trouble trying to grasp the concept. I was wondering if you could help me go over it?"

Jonathan regarded her for a moment before gesturing towards the seat opposite him, a silent invitation for her to sit. Y/n promptly took the seat, positioning herself across from him.

Y/n looked around the room, taking in the surroundings. Bookshelves adorned with a myriad of psychology titles graced the walls, that offer a visual journey through the expansive world of the mind. Disheveled piles of papers and folders, likely files from Arkham, added an air of mystery to the atmosphere. The walls were adorned with various academic accolades and framed degrees. The inviting couch, a standard feature in university offices, seemed strangely pristine and untouched.

"Do you have anything for me to look at? Anything specific?" Jonathan inquired, shifting his papers to make room for her.

Nodding, Y/n retrieved her textbook and a few of her own papers. As she handed them over, Professor Crane asked, "What part did you not understand?" The question, though genuine, had a way of making her feel a bit foolish, and a sudden warmth crept into her face.

"Well...I had trouble with the start of it so...I didn’t understand...any of it," Y/n admitted, a tinge of embarrassment coloring her words.

Avoiding eye contact with her professor, Y/n couldn't help but feel small in his presence. She felt like a complete idiot.

"Well..." Crane sighed, surprising Y/n with a comment that sounded unexpectedly friendly. "Looks like we got a lot of work ahead of us."

Despite the friendly remark, Y/n remained on edge. Professor Crane pulled the book closer, running his pen tip over the first couple of sentences. Reading them aloud, he delved into more depth, echoing the teaching style she was familiar with from his lectures.

Y/n clung to his words, processing and understanding the material more with each passing moment. Her notebook lay open beside her, writing brief notes that she intended to expand upon during her own time. To her surprise, Professor Crane exhibited an unexpected gentleness and patience, allowing her the space to ask questions and guiding her through the material at a measured pace.

In this one-on-one session, Y/n found herself gaining more information that surpassed what she could have achieved on her own. The personalized attention and the chance to delve deeper into the subject with Professor Crane were proving invaluable to her comprehension of the challenging concepts.

"Has that helped?" Professor Crane inquired, reclining in his chair.

"Yes, thank you. This makes so much sense now," Y/n replied, unable to contain her smile.

"Glad I could help," Professor Crane acknowledged. "Thanks for coming in; don't hesitate so much next time," he added.

Y/n couldn't help but be pleasantly surprised by Professor Crane's kindness throughout the entire session. The encounter left her with a newfound appreciation for his approachability and willingness to assist.

Y/n finally looked up at him properly, meeting his gaze for the first time in that half-hour. She was taken aback, realizing the striking blue hue of his eyes, a detail she had never noticed before as she avoided looking at him in lectures, hoping he wouldn’t call on her.

Quickly averting her gaze, she began packing away all her materials. "Thank you again, sir," Y/n expressed, her smile lingering.

"Feel free to come back after today's lesson too if you're having trouble," he suggested, offering her a slight smile in return.

The unexpected kindness from Professor Crane left Y/n pleasantly surprised. "I will, sir. Thank you," she replied before leaving the office, carrying with her a newfound appreciation for the approachability and support she hadn't anticipated.

With a newfound sense of confidence, Y/n practically skipped her way to the library to finalize her notes. The weight that had initially clung to the prospect of talking to Professor Crane had lifted, and she discovered that he wasn't as intimidating as she had initially thought.

-

As class approached, Y/n felt a wave of optimism about the upcoming lesson, knowing she now had the option to seek more help later. The prospect of understanding the material became less daunting.

When Professor Crane entered the class, the usual hush fell over the room. Unfazed, he seamlessly resumed his routine, initiating the lesson with his familiar writing on the board. The air was charged with anticipation, and Y/n felt a renewed sense of readiness to tackle the subject matter with the newfound support at her disposal.

Not even 10 minutes into the class, Y/n watched as Professor Crane once again questioned a student's intelligence, a sharp contrast to the kindness she had experienced earlier. It caught her off guard — his demeanor seemed to shift dramatically when addressing individuals in front of the class. She wondered if he found enjoyment in embarrassing people publicly or if there was another motive behind his approach. Y/n instinctively shrank back into her seat, hoping not to be the next target.

-

As the lesson concluded, Y/n made a quick move toward the door, only to find herself intercepted by Professor Crane stepping in front of her.

"Understand today's lesson?" he inquired, hands clasped behind his back. His slight smile surprised her, considering the belittlement she had witnessed throughout the class.

"Yeah, I think I got it," Y/n responded quickly.

The Professor nodded. "Alright, just don't be scared to ask for help," he advised before strolling back to his office. Y/n stood there, grappling with the unexpected duality of Professor Crane's demeanor, thankful for the support she had received earlier but still perplexed by the contrasting experiences in the classroom.

-

Regrettably for Y/n, the intricacies of today's lesson eluded her, slipping through the gaps in her understanding during the last 10 minutes of class. Her meticulous note-taking proved insufficient, she clearly didn’t get the last part of the lesson. The idea of seeking help at Professor Crane's office hours lingered, but a sense of unease settled in after the day's earlier interactions.

The peculiar contrast in Professor Crane's treatment of her versus the rest of the class left Y/n feeling unsettled. Was he kinder to those who sought help, or was there a different dynamic at play? It remained uncertain, casting a shadow over the prospect of returning for assistance.

Yet, the urgency of understanding the material prevailed over any reservations. Realizing the potential consequences for future lessons, Y/n knew she would have to get help. Y/n considered asking another classmate again, but preferred the way in which Professor Crane was indepth and had more to offer. She acknowledged the necessity of visiting Professor Crane's office hours the next day, and it didn’t feel as daunting as it did the day before.

-

Approaching Professor Crane's office for the second time, Y/n hesitated for a brief moment before knocking on the door. 

"Come in," Professor Crane's voice called out.

Y/n opened the door, offering a tight-lipped smile as she entered. "Thought you'd come back," Professor Crane remarked, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

Taking the now familiar seat across from him, Y/n observed as he pushed aside his work to focus on her. Placing her books on the table, she turned to the last page of the chapter, the faint rustle of paper filling the room.

"It was just the end bit that I kinda lost track of," Y/n admitted, her voice portraying a hint of uncertainty.

“This should be a lot quicker than yesterday, then,” the Professor smiled, joking lightly.

Leaning over the book, Professor Crane again took her through the paragraphs slowly, picking them apart one by one, making sure she understood each thing he said.

As she attempted to maintain focus, the alluring scent of Professor Crane's cologne began to weave its way into her senses, creating a subtle distraction. The close proximity, both of them leaning over the desk to study the book, allowed the fragrance to unfold in intricate layers. The cologne, not noticeable the day before or perhaps just more subdued, now revealed itself with greater prominence.

The scent was strong, but not unpleasant. The fragrance enveloping him carried a sophisticated blend of notes that gracefully danced in the air. A distinct combination of musky undertones and woody accents created an aura of timeless masculinity. As he moved, subtle hints of citrus and spice gently emerged, adding a layer of complexity to the scent. 

"Y/n? Did you get that?" Professor Crane's voice pulled her back to reality.

Y/n shook her head, attempting to refocus. "Oh, sorry, could you repeat that last part?" she squinted, her face warming with embarrassment.

Professor Crane patiently reiterated the information, ensuring she grasped it this time. Internally, Y/n chastised herself, questioning how she could be so easily distracted by a man's cologne.

"You want to write that down?" he suggested, studying her expression.

"It might take a while..." Y/n admitted, well aware of her heightened distraction today.

"That's fine; we have all the time in the world," Professor Crane assured, leaning back in his chair.

"But another student might need help," Y/n hesitated, considering the potential impact on others.

"That's not a problem. No one comes to office hours. Just you," Professor Crane revealed, a statement that slightly shocked Y/n. She had assumed his intimidating demeanor might keep some students away, but the revelation that she was the only one who sought assistance caught her off guard. "O-oh," she stammered in response.

Y/n focused on her notebook, diligently transcribing the information provided by Professor Crane. As she carefully jotted down the details he emphasized, she couldn't shake the feeling of being exposed, a vulnerability that crept in unnoticed.

Glancing up, she caught Professor Crane looking directly at her. Despite the file in his hands, his gaze remained fixed on her. The realization left Y/n feeling a bit uneasy, unsure of why she suddenly felt so exposed under his scrutiny. Opting to dismiss the discomfort, she decided to concentrate on her writing, pushing the unease to the back of her mind and assuming it was just a fleeting moment of self-consciousness.

Having finished writing her notes, Y/n placed her pen down and looked back up at her professor. As he set his file aside, he directed his attention to her notebook. "Finished?" he inquired.

Y/n nodded in confirmation.

"Any more questions about yesterday's lesson?" Professor Crane asked.

She shook her head, indicating her understanding.

"Well, I suppose you're free to go then," Professor Crane remarked. Y/n began packing her belongings when, unexpectedly, he continued, "Unless... would you like me to teach you today's lesson?" The offer hung in the air, leaving Y/n momentarily surprised by the unexpected opportunity for additional guidance.

"But... office hours end in like half an hour," Y/n pointed at the clock, expressing her concern.

"They're my office hours; I can change them however I want," Professor Crane replied, his words softened by the friendly smile adorning his face.

"Are you sure you want to waste your time teaching me? I'll just hear it in a couple of hours anyway," Y/n expressed her uncertainty.

"I'd like to teach you; no one's more eager to learn than you are, my Dear. I insist," Professor Crane insisted, the endearment slipping into his words. Y/n almost missed it, caught off guard by the unexpected warmth in her professor's tone. It was a side of him she hadn't anticipated, and the kindness he displayed left her pleasantly surprised.

Y/n sighed with a mix of relief and gratitude. "You're too kind, sir. Thank you," she expressed, recognizing this as a valuable opportunity to get ahead in the class.

"Don't need to thank me, Dear," Professor Crane replied, a slight smile playing on his lips as he again tested the newfound name.

As she retrieved her books, Professor Crane opened them to the latest chapter. Patiently, he guided her through each part, allowing her the time she needed to take thorough notes. Engrossed in the material, Y/n's awareness was focused on the subject at hand, and she failed to notice Professor Crane's not so subtle staring for the second time.

Unbeknownst to her, he watched as her hair gracefully sat behind her ear and took note of the delicate way her fingers held the pen. The Professor's attentive gaze added an unexpected layer to the lesson, one that went beyond the academic content and into the realm of unspoken dynamics between student and teacher.

Y/n looked back up at Professor Crane, anticipation in her gaze as she awaited the next part of the lesson. As the professor spoke, Y/n found herself gazing up at him, absorbing only fragments of his words. Amid the intricate details of the lesson, her thoughts drifted to a deep appreciation for the professor and the invaluable assistance he was providing.

Glad she had returned to his office hours, Y/n reflected on the decision to have him teach her this lesson. The material was notably more information-heavy than previous lessons, and she couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude. Without this one-on-one guidance, the complexity of the subject matter would have left her utterly lost in the classroom setting.

Professor Crane skillfully condensed what could have been a two-hour lesson into just over an hour. The efficiency of the session left Y/n feeling remarkably more confident in her understanding of Psychology.

"Thank you so much, Professor," Y/n expressed her gratitude with a genuine smile.

"Don't have to keep thanking me, Dear. Just doing my job," Professor Crane replied, returning her smile with a warmth that surpassed the formalities of a typical teacher-student interaction.

Checking the clock, Y/n realized class would commence in 20 minutes. "I should head off to give you time to prepare," she suggested, preparing to rise from her seat.

Professor Crane, however, suggested otherwise. "You might as well just wait here. You won't get in the way."

Unsure, Y/n hesitated before asking, "You sure you don't want a break before teaching? You're probably tired of me."

"Not at all... I could use the company," he reassured, his smile indicating a genuine desire for her presence rather than any sense of obligation.

Y/n couldn't help but smile. "Feeling lonely?" she teased, a newfound comfort allowing her to engage in a more playful manner.

"You could say that," Professor Crane replied, meeting her teasing with a genuine smile.

Reclaiming her seat and settling in, Y/n sought to initiate a conversation. "So... not many students come to your office hours?" she inquired, curious about the dynamics of student-teacher interactions.

"None... you're the first to come," Professor Crane admitted.

"Oh..." Y/n's realization set in. When he mentioned earlier that no one attended, she assumed it might be an exaggeration. Now, it became evident that she was indeed the sole student seeking assistance during his office hours. 

Y/n had an realization; perhaps the reason Professor Crane treated her so nicely was that she was the only student attending his office hours. It occurred to her that he might genuinely appreciate her active approach to seeking help, recognizing her passion for the subject.

"I guess the other students are just too intimidated, or don't care," Professor Crane mused, his words carrying a subtle tone that hinted at his sentiments towards the rest of the students.

She sensed a certain disappointment in his words, an unspoken judgment on the other students who, for various reasons, didn't take advantage of the opportunity to seek additional guidance. The realization left Y/n feeling a mix of gratitude for the personalized attention she received and a touch of sympathy for the potential missed opportunities by her peers.

"Gee, you think very little of them, don't you?" Y/n quipped, her tone half-joking. It was her subtle way of delving into why Professor Crane sometimes treated the class so harshly.

She recognized that she might be overstepping, but a genuine curiosity about the man behind the professor prompted her to seek more insight.

"The class is full of imbeciles. They don't know a thing about psychology. The lot of them couldn't tell a psychopath from a sociopath," Crane vented, a hint of frustration in his words.

"Hey, they're not all idiots," Y/n tried to offer a more different perspective.

"You haven't read their papers," Crane rolled his eyes, a touch of exasperation evident in his response. The exchange revealed a layer of dissatisfaction with his students' grasp of the subject, providing Y/n with a glimpse into the source of his occasional sternness in class.

Though Y/n recognized the impossibility of psychoanalyzing her professor, curiosity had taken a firm hold, compelling her to want to understand more about the man behind the lectern. The enigma of Professor Crane's demeanor and his candid assessments of the students intrigued her, prompting a desire to unravel the complexities that lay beneath the surface.

"Well... what about my papers?" Y/n inquired, a mix of anticipation and curiosity evident in her expression. She was eager to hear how Professor Crane would describe her work.

His gaze intensified as he began, "It’s clear through your writing that you’re passionate about psychology. You beautifully discuss topics in a way that engages readers and sparks interest. Your ability to convey complex concepts with clarity and enthusiasm is truly commendable. It's evident that you not only possess a deep understanding of the subject matter but also a genuine passion for sharing that knowledge."

His words hung in the air, the intensity of his gaze holding a weight that went beyond mere academic assessment. Professor Crane's thoughtful analysis revealed not only an appreciation for Y/n's proficiency but also a recognition of the passion that fueled her exploration of psychology. It was a validation that made her feel proud of herself, creating a moment of mutual understanding and acknowledgment.

Y/n was taken aback, her eyes darting all around the room as her face warmed with disbelief. Praise of such magnitude was unfamiliar territory for her, and coming from Professor Crane, renowned for his exacting standards, it added an extra layer to her astonishment. "Gosh, my work couldn't have been that good, sir. You're too kind."

"You know I'm not kind just for the sake of it. I don't praise just any student's work, dear," Professor Crane responded, his expression serious, the weight of his words emphasizing the sincerity behind his commendation. The gravity of the moment lingered, leaving Y/n grappling with a mix of surprise and gratitude for the unexpected recognition of her efforts.

Y/n acknowledged that Professor Crane wasn't the type to dispense niceties without genuine merit, intensifying the authenticity of the moment. "I... I just don't know what to say," she confessed, her words laced with a mix of humility and gratitude.

"You don't have to say anything; just know that you're a brilliant student, and I'm glad to have you in my class," Professor Crane asserted, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped together.

"Thank you," Y/n replied with a genuine smile, the warmth of the professor's acknowledgment lingering.

He nodded politely, reciprocating the smile. "So, what would you be doing right now if you weren't here with me?" he asked, a subtle inquiry into her interests without directly posing the question.

Indulging the curiosity, Y/n shared, "Usually, I'd be back at my dorm studying or maybe out with friends."

"Are these of yours friends taking different courses? It's just that I never see you sitting with anyone in class that much," Professor Crane probed further, expressing unexpected interest in the dynamics of her social circle.

She hadn't anticipated his curiosity about her friends. "Yeah, most of them are taking things like English Literature, History, Biochem," Y/n answered, providing a glimpse into the diverse corses her friend were taking.

"I see... and are all of them…just friends?" Professor Crane asked, his gaze intense, as if searching for something beyond the words.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, a touch of confusion coloring her expression. "I'm not sure I understand the question," she admitted.

"Are you seeing anyone?" he asked, taking the conversation into unexpected territory. It caught her off guard. Why was he interested? What prompted such a personal question? Despite her surprise, Y/n chose to keep the conversation flowing, steering clear of awkwardness. "No, I'm not," she answered. Professor Crane nodded, his focus unwavering.

Feeling a degree of boldness, Y/n decided to reciprocate, nervously asking, "How about you? Any wife or anything?" There was a hesitancy in her voice, a fear of overstepping.

"Nope... just me," Professor Crane replied, his tone casual yet offering little insight into his personal life.

Wanting to explore a topic outside the realm of teaching and relationships, Y/n sought a new avenue of conversation. "So you're also a Doctor at Arkham. What's that like?" she inquired.

Professor Crane sighed, a subtle chuckle escaping him. "Every day's a new challenge. I do enjoy my work there, but the patients can be a handful sometimes," he shared, offering a glimpse into the complexities of his dual roles as a professor and a practitioner at Arkham.

"From all the news, it sure sounds like a lot," Y/n remarked, sharing a laugh at the intriguing tales surrounding Arkham Asylum.

"You could come see it for yourself if you'd like. I can take you," Professor Crane offered, extending an unexpected invitation that caught Y/n off guard.

"W-wow, really?" Y/n's eyes widened with excitement. The prospect of exploring the infamous Arkham Asylum, even with it’s poor repetuation, was a dream come true.

"Of course, it would be a good learning experience," Professor Crane affirmed, his smirk hinting at a certain familiarity with the inner workings of the institution.

"Are you sure it's allowed?" Y/n inquired cautiously.

"I'm pretty high up in that place, so I can pull a couple of strings," he responded with a confident smirk, revealing a hint of his influence.

After a quick glace at the clock, Professor Crane rose from his seat. "People should be coming in right about now."

Looking at the time herself, Y/n gathered her belongings and prepared to leave. "We can talk more later about showing you Arkham if you'd like," Professor Crane suggested, holding the door open.

"That sounds perfect. Thank you, Professor," Y/n expressed her gratitude, making her way to the door.

"Talk to you after class, then," he said, smiling at her before returning to his desk.

Walking out of his office, Y/n couldn't fathom the extraordinary opportunity that had just presented itself, and the thought that such an experience might await her left her both thrilled and intrigued.

-

The class came to a close, and Y/n eagerly approached Professor Crane, who had already neatly packed his things, a shared smile bridging the distance between them. 

"Let's talk about Arkham, then," Professor Crane suggested, leading the way to his office, Y/n following in tow.

"Do you have any lectures tomorrow?" Professor Crane inquired, his voice carrying an air of anticipation.

"Not tomorrow, no," Y/n responded.

"Then that sounds like the perfect time for me to take you," Professor Crane declared, a warm smile playing on his lips.

The reality of the situation began to sink in for Y/n. It was happening — the chance to explore the mysterious Arkham Asylum with Professor Crane as her guide. The thrill of the unexpected adventure filled her with a sense of wonder and disbelief.

"Oh my god, thank you so much, sir. This means so much to me," Y/n exclaimed, genuine gratitude painting her expression.

"You deserve it," Professor Crane replied, his assurance carrying a sense of sincerity.

"So umm... how will we go about this?" Y/n asked, eager to plan the logistics of the upcoming adventure.

"I'm assuming you stay at the university dorms?" Professor Crane inquired.

"I am, yes," Y/n confirmed.

"I suppose it would be easiest for me to pick you up from there. I can come get you at 8, if that works for you," Professor Crane suggested, offering a practical solution.

"Of course," Y/n agreed, the excitement bubbling within her, the prospect of exploring Arkham Asylum with Professor Crane creating a sense of giddiness that was hard to contain.

"Perfect," Professor Crane remarked. "Now, I should let you get back to your dorm and get a good rest; tomorrow's gonna be a big day for you," he added with a confident smirk.

Y/n chuckled in agreement. "I could imagine. Thank you, sir. Goodbye."

Professor Crane nodded politely as she exited his office. Y/n practically floated back to her dorm, the anticipation building within her. Following his advice, she decided to rest for the remainder of the day. The excitement of visiting Arkham Asylum, coupled with the mysterious allure of the institution, fueled her imagination.

As night fell, sleep proved elusive for Y/n. Her mind buzzed with anticipation and curiosity about the impending visit. What would she discover within the walls of Arkham? The prospect of the unknown, guided by Professor Crane, fueled her restless excitement, and she could barely contain her anticipation for the extraordinary day that awaited her.

-

The rhythmic buzz of Y/n's alarm clock greeted the new morning, a herald of the exciting day that awaited her. Brimming with anticipation, she practically bounced out of bed, fueled by a burst of energy that could only be described as a cocktail of nervousness and exhilaration. The bathroom became a sanctuary for a swift but thorough morning routine, cleansing her senses and preparing her for the significant day ahead.

As she perused her wardrobe, each garment held the weight of consideration. Y/n recognized the importance of making a favorable impression, especially considering the potential encounters with the discerning doctors at Arkham Asylum. She chose an outfit that balanced professionalism with a touch of her own style, a subtle nod to the gravity of the impending visit.

A glance at the clock revealed that she was ahead of schedule. It was 7:48, and uncertainty lingered about Professor Crane's punctuality. She realised she had no way of telling when he would arrive. Determined not to keep him waiting, Y/n decided to head outside, leaving the dormitory corridors.

The university grounds welcomed her with a subdued ambiance, the early morning calm only disturbed by the distant hum of city life. Y/n found a spot on a sturdy bench at the front of the dorms. The atmosphere was draped in the typical Gotham gloom – a ceiling of gray clouds stretched endlessly above, holding the promise of impending rain. Yet, for now, the air bore only a biting chill, a forewarning of the unpredictable Gotham weather.

Seated on the bench, Y/n couldn't escape the palpable excitement that rippled through her. The visible breaths she exhaled added a tangible layer to the anticipation, creating wisps of mist in the frigid air. The quietude of the campus seemed to magnify the significance of the moment as she patiently awaited the arrival of Professor Crane, the orchestrator of this extraordinary excursion into the unknown.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/n was blissfully unaware of someone approaching until a familiar voice cut through her reverie. "Good morning, Y/n," Professor Crane greeted her, his presence catching her by surprise.

Looking up from the ground, Y/n beamed a warm smile at him. "Good morning, Professor," she responded instinctively, the habit of addressing him formally ingrained in her.

"We're outside of class, my Dear, you don't have to call me Professor. Just Jonathan is fine," he suggested, a rare invitation to familiarity that caught her off guard. Testing the waters, she hesitated for a moment before tentatively trying out his first name. "Okay, Jonathan."

His smile in response conveyed a subtle warmth, as if sharing this piece of himself with her was a gesture of trust. "My car's just around the corner," he mentioned, and she rose from the bench to follow him.

As they made their way to the car, Y/n couldn't shake the peculiar nature of the situation. Getting into her professor's car in full view of her dorms was certainly out of the ordinary, but the sense of trust she felt for Jonathan quelled any reservations. The gentlemanly gesture of him opening the car door for her only added to the surreal atmosphere.

"Thank you," she expressed her gratitude with a smile as she settled into the car. Jonathan circled the vehicle and took his place in the driver's seat, the engine humming to life. As he secured his seatbelt, he shifted the conversation to a more mundane topic. "Have any breakfast before leaving?" he inquired, glancing over at her.

The realization struck her – breakfast had slipped her mind in the whirlwind of excitement. "Uh, no, I didn't," she admitted, a slight sheepishness in her tone.

“Well we can’t be having that,” Jonathan said, looking at her with his piercing blue eyes behind his glasses. 

“Oh, it’s fine really,” Y/n tried to reassure him. 

"You're in for a long day; you need food," Jonathan remarked, his concern for her well-being evident in his words. "Besides, I haven't eaten yet myself. I know a lovely cafe on the way; don't worry about it."

Grateful for his thoughtfulness, Y/n smiled and responded, "Thank you."

"Not a problem, my Dear," he assured her, his use of the endearment somehow making the situation feel even more surreal. With that, he skillfully maneuvered the car into the flow of traffic.

To her surprise, the chaotic Gotham roads seemed unusually cooperative, allowing their journey to unfold with an unexpected smoothness. The city, notorious for its perpetual hustle and bustle, offered a brief respite as they cruised toward their destination. In the serene confines of the car, Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the contrasting calmness outside. 

Jonathan expertly maneuvered the car into a parking space just outside a charming diner nestled on the outskirts of the Narrows. Exiting the car, the duo made their way into the cozy establishment.

"Seat yourselves, I'll be right with you," greeted a friendly waitress.

Jonathan gestured towards an inviting booth, Y/n slid into the seat, the comfortable booth promising a relaxing start to the day's adventures.

As they settled in, Jonathan reached for a couple of menus discreetly tucked beneath the cutlery. He handed one to Y/n with a casual smile. "Choose anything you'd like—drink and food. I'll pay," he generously offered, his gaze shifting to his own menu.

"Oh, I can't have you pay for me. You're already doing so much for me," Y/n insisted, a hint of guilt tainting her expression.

Jonathan chuckled warmly, his eyes reflecting a genuine understanding. "You're a university student staying at the dorms; money is not something you should be throwing around. I, however, am well off with my jobs. Don't worry."

Despite his reassurance, Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of indebtedness. "I just feel bad that you're doing all this for me," she confessed, her sincerity evident in her eyes.

"If you want to so badly, you can pay next time," Jonathan suggested, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

"I'll hold you to that," Y/n responded with a smile, the lighthearted banter momentarily easing the weight of gratitude she felt. The easy camaraderie between them made the ordinary act of sharing a meal feel like an extraordinary moment. 

She appreciated the effortless flow of their conversation, finding an unexpected camaraderie with Jonathan. The notion of befriending a professor initially seemed peculiar, but with each passing moment, it felt surprisingly natural. Their discussions swayed seamlessly between topics, and Y/n discovered a side of Jonathan beyond the classroom, making her appreciate him not just as an educator but as a genuinely pleasant individual.

As the morning sunlight streamed through the diner's windows, casting a warm glow on their table, Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the ease with which they interacted. The atmosphere was friendly and unburdened by the typical student-teacher dynamic. In that little diner booth, they were just two adults enjoying each other's company, forging a connection that went beyond the confines of academia.

The array of options on the menu presented Y/n with a delightful dilemma. The diner's atmosphere was lively yet intimate, with the aroma of brewing coffee and sizzling breakfast filling the air. 

The waitress gracefully returned to their table, pen poised over her notepad. "What can I get for you two?" she inquired with a welcoming smile.

Jonathan was quick to respond, "I'll have a coffee and a breakfast bagel." His eyes then shifted to Y/n.

Feeling more on the sweet side, Y/n replied, "A berry smoothie and a brownie, please."

The waitress, attentive to details, followed up, "Would you like cream or yogurt with the brownie?"

"Yogurt, please," Y/n said.

The waitress jotted down their orders. "Is there anything else?" she asked, awaiting their final decisions.

"That'll be all," Jonathan confirmed, and Y/n nodded in agreement. With that, the waitress gracefully glided away, leaving them to resume their conversation in the cozy diner booth.

Jonathan chuckled at Y/n's choice, "A brownie at 8 in the morning?" he teased playfully.

"I know, it's a bit sweet," Y/n admitted, laughing along with him. "But treats like this are rare for me."

"Everyone deserves a morning indulgence now and then," Jonathan responded with a smile.

Their conversation continued to flow effortlessly, exchanging bits of information about their lives, particularly revolving around university.

Around 10 minutes later, the waitress returned with their orders. "Here you go," she said, placing the plates in front of them.

"Thank you," Y/n expressed her gratitude, eagerly eyeing the delicious spread in front of her.

As the waitress left, Y/n took a moment to appreciate the aroma of the coffee and the vibrant colors of her berry smoothie. Jonathan sipped his coffee and leaned back, a relaxed smile on his face. The atmosphere was comfortable, the diner buzzing with the low hum of conversations and the clinking of cutlery.

Jonathan leaned forward, taking ahold of his bagel, a faint smile on his face. "I hope you don't mind the detour for breakfast. It's good to start a day like this every once in a while."

Y/n chuckled, feeling the ease of their interaction. "Not at all. It's a pleasant surprise, actually. I didn't expect today to begin like this."

Jonathan nodded. "Well, sometimes it's the unexpected moments that make the day memorable."

Jonathan took a sip of his coffee before speaking, "So, tell me more about your interest in psychology. What drew you to the field?"

Y/n took a moment to savor her smoothie before answering, "I've always been fascinated by the human mind and how it works. It's like this intricate puzzle, and psychology helps me unravel its complexities. Plus, the idea of helping people through understanding their thoughts and behaviors would also be pretty cool."

Jonathan nodded, "It's a noble pursuit. Psychology has the power to make a significant impact on individuals' lives. Do you have any specific areas within psychology that you find most intriguing?"

“I won’t lie, Arkham has always been an interest of mine. Not necessarily the famous rogues that are constantly escaping, but the more troubled souls that had a rough start,” Y/n shared.

“Not so interested in the Joker then?” Jonathan teased.

“God no,” Y/n responded.

Jonathan chuckled, "Can't blame you there. The Joker is a whole different level of chaos."

Y/n took a sip of her berry smoothie, enjoying the refreshing taste. "But seriously, the idea of helping those who are struggling mentally, especially the ones society tends to overlook, that's where I want to make a difference."

Jonathan nodded, sipping his coffee. "Mental health is often stigmatized, and people don't realize the impact it has on individuals and society as a whole. Your dedication to understanding and helping is commendable."

The conversation continued, effortlessly weaving between casual banter and more serious topics. The comfortable atmosphere of the diner, coupled with Jonathan's easygoing nature, made Y/n feel at ease discussing her aspirations.

-

As they drove toward Arkham, Jonathan and Y/n continued their conversation, Jonathan sharing about the intricate workings of the human mind. The cityscape changed as they delved deeper into the Narrows, with its dodgy alleyways and poorly lit streets, which even in the dark made it difficult to see, creating an atmosphere of unease. The air felt heavy, carrying the weight of the stories locked within the walls of Arkham Asylum.

Jonathan glanced at Y/n. "It's a unique place, Arkham," he remarked, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. The legendary reputation of Arkham Asylum had always fueled her curiosity, and now, with the prospect of exploring its mysteries, she couldn't contain her anticipation.

Securing a parking spot proved effortless in the vast, desolate parking lot. Stepping out of the car, Y/n gazed up at the imposing structure – a stone fortress that housed some of Gotham's most notorious criminals. Jonathan, an experienced guide in this ominous environment, approached her and led the way inside.

With a swift display of his ID, Jonathan gained entry, Y/n following suit without a single question. He grabbed a visitor badge for her before securing it around her neck.

The echoing clang of the heavy metal door closing behind them filled the entrance hall. The dimly lit corridor stretched ahead, lined with security personnel stationed at various checkpoints. The cold, sterile air of the facility sent shivers down Y/n's spine as she adjusted the visitor badge Jonathan handed her.

The corridor seemed to wind endlessly, each turn revealing another layer of security. Jonathan led her through the labyrinthine structure, his familiarity with the layout evident. The occasional distant echoes of unsettling sounds from within the facility heightened the tension in the air.

As they passed by the barred cells, Y/n couldn't help but steal glances into the shadows, catching glimpses of faces that seemed to hold a myriad of stories. The residents of Arkham Asylum, each with their own struggles and torments, observed the visitors with a mix of curiosity and detachment.

Jonathan explained the varying levels of security, detailing the procedures in place to ensure the safety of both staff and visitors. Y/n absorbed the information with a mix of fascination and a growing sense of apprehension. The weight of being surrounded by some of Gotham's most troubled souls pressed down on her.

They eventually reached a central area, a hub of activity where staff members bustled about their duties. Y/n observed the dynamics, the interplay between doctors, guards, and the patients who moved within the confines of their respective spaces. The atmosphere was a blend of tension and routine.

Approaching a door, Jonathan turned the doorknob, revealing the door marked with his name – Dr. Crane. The office, his domain, welcomed them, and Jonathan efficiently navigated around his desk to retrieve a couple of files.

Jonathan gathered the necessary files and responded, "Just a regular in-patient for the first session, but the second might be less conventional."

"Will they be okay with me being present?" Y/n asked.

"Well, if you're concerned, you can always ask them. Consent is important," Jonathan replied.

"Thank you," Y/n expressed her gratitude.

Jonathan guided them through the dimly lit halls of Arkham, arriving at the room where the first session would take place. They waited at the door, observing the tense atmosphere. Soon, a guard led a patient down the corridor, and from Jonathan's focused gaze, Y/n assumed this was the individual they were there to see.

"Mr. Wilson, you seem to be in good spirits today," Jonathan remarked, his tone carrying a sense of monotony.

“Mhmm,” Mr. Wilson responded, his eyes wandering around the hallway.

“I have a student from Gotham University joining us today. She's here to observe the session. Would that be acceptable to you?” Jonathan inquired.

Mr. Wilson finally looked up, his gaze meeting Y/n's. It appeared as though he hadn't encountered a woman in years. After a moment's contemplation, he nodded slowly.

“Great,” Jonathan said, holding the door open for everyone to enter the room.

The room was clinical, with pale walls and minimal furniture. Jonathan guided Y/n to a seat near the back, gesturing for her to take a comfortable position. Mr. Wilson settled into a chair across from Jonathan's desk.

As the session began, Jonathan engaged Mr. Wilson in conversation, discussing various topics. Y/n observed the interaction closely, trying to discern the nuances of the therapy process. She noted the controlled detachment in Jonathan's demeanor, a stark contrast to the patient's erratic and paranoid behavior.

Throughout the session, Y/n was captivated by the exchanges between therapist and patient. Mr. Wilson's responses were often fragmented and disjointed, revealing the complexity of his mental state. Jonathan navigated the conversation with finesse, probing gently into sensitive areas while maintaining an air of professionalism.

As the session concluded, Jonathan thanked Mr. Wilson for his time, and the patient was escorted back to his room by a guard. Jonathan turned his attention to Y/n, who had been silently observing.

“What did you think?” he asked, his expression betraying a genuine interest in her perspective.

“You're a really good doctor,” Y/n chuckled softly.

"I appreciate that," Jonathan replied modestly. "It's crucial to establish trust and understanding with the patients here. Each case requires a unique approach."

Y/n nodded in agreement, absorbing the gravity of the therapy session she had witnessed. Jonathan guided her out of the room, and they continued to explore different areas of Arkham, with Jonathan sharing insights into his work and the challenges he faced.

As they walked through the eerie corridors, Y/n couldn't help but feel a mixture of fascination and trepidation. Arkham held a dark allure, and she marveled at the intricate dance between the staff and the troubled individuals confined within its walls.

"So, your next patient?" Y/n inquired curiously.

"I'm sure you've heard of Edward Nigma, otherwise known as the Riddler—a real piece of work, that one," Jonathan remarked.

Y/n felt her heart skip a beat. The Riddler, notorious for creating horrifying traps and puzzels for his victims.

"I'm assuming you're going to sit out on that one?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, please," Y/n replied.

Jonathan chuckled, understanding her hesitation. "Not a fan of riddles, I take it?"

Y/n smiled nervously. "Let's just say I prefer my challenges to be in textbooks, not in the form of elaborate mind games that may or may not get me killed."

"Well, you're not alone in that sentiment," Jonathan assured her. "Nigma is... unique, to say the least. We'll proceed cautiously, and you can observe from the safety of the mirrored room."

They continued down the hall, passing by cells where other inmates were confined. Each face carried its own story, and the air was thick with an unsettling atmosphere.

As they approached the next room, a heavy door with a small window, Jonathan peered inside. "Edward, good afternoon."

The Riddler, a man with sharp features and an air of arrogance, looked up from his seated position. "Crane, always punctual. Who's this?" He nodded toward Y/n.

"Edward, meet Y/n, a psychology student from Gotham University. She's here to observe our sessions," Jonathan explained.

The Riddler's eyes narrowed as he examined Y/n. "Ah, another curious mind seeking the secrets of the human psyche. Fascinating."

As they entered, Nigma looked up, his eyes locking onto Y/n through the window. A sly smile crossed his face. "Are you here to solve my riddles?"

"She'll just be observing," Jonathan explained, gesturing towards the second room—the observation room.

Y/n's discomfort grew at the Riddlers staring, but she managed a polite nod. Jonathan guided her to the observation room, assuring her of the safety measures in place before going in to talk with Nigma. 

From behind the one-way mirror, Y/n observed the intricate dance of intellect between Jonathan and the enigmatic Riddler, realizing that the challenges in the academic world seemed trivial compared to the complexities of Arkham Asylum.

The atmosphere grew more uncomfortable, and Y/n felt a chill run down her spine. She could tell Jonathan was reaching his limit with Edward's antics, his patience visibly waning.

"Riddle me this... how much does the Doll behind the window know?" Edward provocatively inquired, locking eyes with her.

Edward, ever the provocateur, threw a cryptic remark Jonathan’s way, using the unsettling nickname "Doll." She couldn’t understand how he knew where she was behind the window, considering it was a mirror from his side, but he was looking right at her.

Jonathan's reaction was subtle but telling. A momentary pause in his movements, a flash of irritation across his face, and then he composed himself. "My, my, getting lousy with the riddles, are we?" he retorted, his tone laced with thinly veiled frustration.

Edward, undeterred, pressed on, "Then let me ask a question..Why did you really bring her here?...Does she know about Scarecrow?" His tone held a hint of malevolence, making Y/n acutely aware of the dangers potentially surrounding her.

Jonathan decided that enough was enough. "That's it for today, I believe," he declared, swiftly closing his file and rising from his seat.

Edward, seemingly amused by the exchange, reclined in his chair, his laughter lingering as the guard escorted him out of the room. Jonathan approached Y/n, his expression a mix of exhaustion and determination.

-

Even after that chilling session, Y/n found herself increasingly drawn to the complexities of mental health and the delicate art of psychiatric treatment. As the last session concluded, Jonathan silently walked her back to his office, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

Packing away his last thing, Jonathan moved over to Y/n, “Come on…” Jonathan's voice broke the quiet, quietly guiding her out of Arkham, his hand resting on the small of her back.

Reaching his car, Jonathan moved to her side first, holding the door open for her.

"I hope this was an insightful experience for you," he remarked, opening the door for her.

"Absolutely," Y/n replied. "Thank you for the opportunity, Jonathan." She hopped into the car, and Jonathan closed the door behind her before taking his place in the driver's seat.

The day at Arkham had left a lasting impression on Y/n, sparking a newfound interest in the intricacies of the human mind and the challenges faced by those dedicated to healing it.

The occasional streetlight cast shadows across his face as she looked at him from her side. However, her mind couldn't shake the lingering questions from the Riddler's cryptic words at the end of the session. Did Jonathan have another motive for bringing her to Arkham? And what was he referring to with Scarecrow? What was Scarecrow, and what role did Jonathan play in it? The mysteries lingered, casting a shadow on the experience that, despite its profound impact, left Y/n with a sense of curiosity and unanswered questions.

She hadn’t even noticed Jonathan pulling up in front of the University dorms. It took a moment for her to realize that they had arrived, and Jonathan's gesture of opening the car door for her snapped her out of her daydream.

Jonathan opened her door and extended his hand to help her. "Thank you," she expressed meekly as she accepted his assistance.

“Don’t mention it...” Jonathan replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

“...You’ve been so kind to me, Jonathan. I really appreciate it. I honestly couldn't thank you enough,” Y/n conveyed, looking up at him.

“I’m just giving you what you deserve,” Jonathan responded, a warm smile still playing on his lips.

Jonathan walked her to the stairs and as Y/n stood by the entrance of the dorms, she hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was appropriate to ask what had been lingering in her mind.

"Jonathan," she began, "about what the Riddler mentioned... Scarecrow, and your motive for bringing me to Arkham. Is there something more I should know?"

Jonathan's expression shifted ever so slightly, and for a moment, it seemed like he was carefully choosing his words. He leaned against the car, a thoughtful gaze in his eyes.

"The Riddler likes to play games with words," Jonathan began, "and sometimes, the less you know, the safer you are. It's part of Arkham's peculiar charm."

Y/n nodded, understanding that some things might be better left untouched. "Okay..Thank you, Jonathan."

He nodded in return, a sense of mystery lingering in the air. "See you Monday."

With a final nod and a friendly smile, Y/n made her way into the dorms, the encounter at Arkham echoing in her mind.

-

Monday came around, and Y/n hadn’t stopped thinking about her indirect encounter with the Riddler. The weekend had been filled with a mixture of fascination and apprehension. She went about her usual classes, but the questions surrounding Jonathan's involvement with the Riddler and the cryptic mention of Scarecrow lingered in her mind.

As she entered Professor Crane's psychology class, she couldn't help but wonder if he would address anything related to their visit to Arkham. The room filled with students chatting, the usual buzz before the lecture, but Y/n found herself scanning the room for any signs from Professor Crane.

The door to the classroom swung open, and in walked Professor Crane, looking as composed as ever. He started the class without acknowledging Y/n at all, diving into the lecture material as if it were any other day. Y/n's curiosity grew, but she decided against pressing further, at least during class hours.

After the lecture, as students filed out of the room, Y/n lingered, waiting for the opportune moment to approach Professor Crane. Once the room emptied, she approached his desk.

"Professor Crane," she began, "I've been thinking about our visit to Arkham. I know I shouldn’t, but I haven’t stop thinking about what the Riddler was talking about?"

Professor Crane looked at her, his gaze unreadable for a moment. Then, he sighed, realizing her curiosity wasn't easily deterred.

"Y/n," he started, "Arkham is filled with various personalities, each with their own stories. The Riddler is among many. Some tales are better left in the shadows. Focus on your studies and leave the mysteries of Arkham where they belong."

It was a cryptic response that left Y/n with more questions than answers. She felt unsettled in the way Jonathan was dismissing it so easily. 

Jonathan sighed, observing her detachment. "Just forget about it, Nigma is in Arkham for a reason. Don’t take what he says seriously... He’s just trying to mess with your head," Jonathan said.

Y/n nodded. "Okay... sorry about that. I won’t ask again."

"No need to apologize," Jonathan replied, his eyes showing a hint of understanding.

“I’ll be off now,” Y/n said, sensing a slight awkwardness in the air.

“You don’t want to stay?” Jonathan asked, his expression softening.

“Uh... would you like me to?” Y/n inquired, feeling a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty.

“Only if you wish to,” Jonathan said, leaving the decision up to her. The room held a lingering tension, a silent invitation for more conversation or perhaps a shared moment of quiet reflection.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, considering the unspoken offer. Eventually, she decided to stay.

"I don't mind staying for a bit," she said, offering a tentative smile.

Jonathan gestured toward one of the chairs in his office. "Please, have a seat."

As they settled into a conversation about various topics, the atmosphere became more relaxed. Y/n found herself opening up to Jonathan about her experiences and interests, and he reciprocated by sharing anecdotes from his work at Arkham. The initial professional boundaries started to blur, and a genuine connection began to form between them. It was an unexpected and refreshing turn of events for Y/n, adding a new layer to her academic journey.

-

In the following weeks, Y/n continued to attend Jonathan's office hours, not just for academic assistance but also for the engaging conversations they shared. Their discussions spanned beyond the realm of psychology, delving into personal stories, interests, and even occasional light banter.

As the semester progressed, Y/n found herself becoming more captivated by both the subject matter and her professor's unique approach to teaching. Jonathan's guidance extended beyond the classroom, as he recommended additional readings and shared insights that went beyond the standard curriculum.

-

The day that followed unfolded in a way Y/n hadn't anticipated. Making her way into Jonathan’s office for their customary daily discussions, she greeted him with a warm "Hiya," bearing a takeaway tray adorned with a coffee and a smoothie – their usual indulgences.

"Evening, Dear," Jonathan reciprocated, his smile adding a touch of warmth to the comfortable atmosphere of his office.

Choosing the inviting couch over the formality of the desk, Y/n settled in, and Jonathan joined her after finishing up his paperwork. The shift in seating only enhanced the coziness, turning their daily talks into a more intimate and relaxed exchange. Y/n handed the cup of coffee to Jonathan, a small gesture in their routine. She indulged in the refreshing sips of her smoothie as Jonathan accepted the coffee.

"Thank you, my Dear," he expressed with a grateful smile.

"Anytime," Y/n responded, the casual exchange feeling comforting.

Sipping her smoothie, she rested her head on the back of the couch, facing Jonathan. 

"..I know I said I wouldn't ask again, but.. I just can't shake off what the Riddler was saying..back at Arkham" Y/n said, slowly looking up at Jonathan.

Jonathan huffed, a hint of frustration showing in his expression. "What the Riddler said is not important," he dismissed.

Y/n sat back up, "I know that's not true. I don't understand why you can't just tell—" Y/n was abruptly cut off.

"There's nothing to talk about!" Jonathan suddenly snapped.

The sudden outburst startled Y/n, witnessing a side of Jonathan she wasn’t used to being directed at her. She could feel the tension in the air. Jonathan, realizing his sharp reaction, sighed. Removing his glasses, he rubbed his face with his hand, frustrated.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm just... trying to protect you, okay?" Jonathan explained, his voice softer, revealing an undercurrent of concern.

"..How is this possibly protecting me? The Riddler was taking about me... I need to know," Y/n insisted. She realized she had pushed too far, but this seemed like something serious that Jonathan was intentionally keeping from her.

Jonathan stood up slowly and approached his office door. Y/n heard the distinct sound of the lock clicking, sending fearful shivers through her body.

"What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room," Jonathan stated with a gravity that heightened Y/n's anxiety.

As Jonathan turned around to face her, setting his coffee down, he sighed and began tapping his feet with his hands on his hips—an unusual display of nervousness. Y/n, taken aback, had never seen Jonathan appear so uneasy.

"I will admit, Y/n, the feelings I have for you are not entirely appropriate," Jonathan confessed, avoiding direct eye contact.

Y/n let out a shaky breath. "What?"

"The real reason I brought you to Arkham was to make you feel special... to show off, even," Jonathan revealed.

Y/n's mind raced back to the Riddler's insinuations about Jonathan's potential ulterior motives for bringing her to Arkham. The revelation left her bewildered and unsure of how to respond.

Y/n tried to push aside Jonathan's unsettling confession, focusing on the second thing the Riddler had mentioned. "So what is Scarecrow?" Y/n inquired, curiosity driving her to seek answers.

She could sense Jonathan's breath hitch. "Scarecrow... is an individual with a fascination for fear," Jonathan explained, his gaze fixed on the ground, hands still on his hips. "I'm sure you've been hearing about the recent patients being admitted to Arkham with strange yet similar symptoms of hallucinations."

"So what does this individual have to do with me?" Y/n pressed further.

"Let's just say... his fascination doesn't stop there," Jonathan replied cryptically.

With each passing moment, Y/n's tension heightened. "Jonathan... who is Scarecrow?" she asked nervously.

"I think you already know," Jonathan responded, finally meeting Y/n's gaze with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine.

Y/n found it difficult to catch her breath as her eyes darted around the room. Setting the forgotten smoothie on the ground beside the couch, Y/n stood up.

"I should probably go," Y/n attempted to make a quick exit past Jonathan, only to be halted by his firm grip on her arm.

The touch made her jolt, but his grasp didn't loosen. "I can't let you leave," Jonathan declared.

"P-please, I promise I won't say anything," Y/n pleaded, feeling tears welling up in her eyes.

"How do I know that?" Jonathan questioned.

Her blood ran cold. "I promise you, I'll do anything," Y/n begged.

Jonathan looked at her curiously. "Anything?"

Y/n gazed at him, her stomach jumping. Acting on an impulse she couldn't quite comprehend, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. His eyes widened in shock, but the desperation in the air forced him to give in.

Jonathan couldn't resist, kissing her with a passion he had suppressed for months. His hands moved to Y/n's waist, pulling her closer. In that moment, Y/n thought, this was the perfect distraction.

She slowly moved one of her hands behind her, fumbling for the doorknob. Finally getting a firm grasp on it, she slowly turned the knob to open the door. However, luck was not on her side when the lock clicked loudly, the sound echoing in the room. Her heart dropped, and Jonathan's eyes shot open. Just as Y/n was about to hastily open the door, Jonathan pushed her back, causing her to scream as her body slammed against the door, keeping it firmly closed. Harshly grabbing her arms, he held them above her head.

He stared down at her as tears streamed down her face. "Trying to distract me, huh?" Jonathan said, an evil glint in his eye.

Y/n tried to yank her hands out of his grip, but it proved impossible given the strength he had over her.

"Please, Jonathan! You can't do this!" Y/n cried.

Jonathan brought his face closer to hers, she turned her head in fear, closing her eyes tightly. Jonathan dragged his nose up her neck, breathing against her skin. "I'll do what is necessary," he whispered.

In a desperate attempt, she brought her foot up, trying to stomp on his foot, but that only seemed to anger him more. Jonathan aggressively threw her around and shoved her over his desk, holding her down by her hands again. However, this time, he stood between her legs, preventing her from using them.

Y/n whimpered beneath him, but he remained unyielding. "I never wanted this to happen, but you don't leave me much of a choice," Jonathan spoke through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, I'll be nice, but you have to let me go," Y/n pleaded.

"That's not going to happen, my Dear," Jonathan said.

Before Y/n could react, Jonathan swiftly brought his sleeve-covered wrist up to her face, a faint hiss preceding the release of a mysterious puff of gas. Y/n's immediate response was a piercing scream as the unexpected spray hit her face, sending shivers down her spine. The gas had an acrid smell, and as she inhaled, an unsettling sensation crept over her. The world around her started to warp and distort, as if reality itself was bending to the whims of her deepest fears.

Y/n's vision blurred, and her surroundings became an eerie dreamscape. The once-familiar office now transformed into a haunting image. Jonathan's figure morphed, his features elongating and contorting, creating a grotesque visage that sent chills down Y/n's spine.

A sense of dread settled over her, intensifying with every passing moment. As the fear gas took hold, Y/n felt a chilling coldness crawl up her spine. Her body became increasingly heavy, and the room seemed to close in on her, suffocating her in a nightmarish reality. The longer she stared at Jonathan, the more the lines between nightmare and reality blurred, until the gas finally overwhelmed her. Y/n's consciousness waned, slipping into the abyss of her deepest anxieties, and the world around her faded to black as she succumbed to unconsciousness.

-

Waking up was excruciating, her head pounding with unbearable intensity. Fear pulsed through her, her heart racing in tandem with the throbbing ache in her temples. As she reluctantly opened her eyes, a disorienting mix of darkness and blinding light assaulted her senses. Surveying her surroundings only deepened her confusion; it appeared as though she had awakened in some kind of forest, a surreal landscape that contradicted Gotham's urban reality. Yet, her vision played tricks on her, rendering it impossible to discern between what was real and what was illusion.

“It’s good to see you’re awake, my Dear,” a voice echoed beside her.

Startled, she turned towards the voice, recognizing it but struggling to reconcile the distorted tones with its origin. The person wore a burlap mask, concealing their identity.

“J-Jonathan,” Y/n stammered, feeling a profound sense of weakness.

“I’m giving you a chance to run,” Jonathan declared.

Confused and disoriented, Y/n attempted to question him, but Jonathan interrupted her.

“I'll give you a 30 seconds headstart. If I can't find you, I’ll leave you alone. But if I catch you…I won’t let you go,” he ominously proclaimed.

“J-Jonathan, I can barely see!” Y/n cried.

“Get up, Y/n,” Jonathan commanded.

“Jonath-”

“Get. Up.”

His authoritative tone sent shivers down Y/n's spine. Trembling, she maneuvered to kneel on her knees, only to be met with a searing pain radiating from her ankles. A guttural scream escaped her lips as she gazed down, her vision still distorted. Through the haze, she discerned the ghastly reality – two bells, meticulously sewn into her flesh on either side of her ankles. The skin threaded through them, attempting to heal around the foreign objects. The grotesque sight made her stomach churn, and she screamed in sheer horror.

“What did you do to me! My fucking feet! You fucking bitch!” Y/n cried, her voice filled with rage and terror as she screamed at Jonathan.

He sighed before grabbing her by the arm roughly and pulling her to her feet. She sobbed, attempting to push Jonathan away, but his strength prevailed, keeping her on her unsteady feet.

“Listen, Y/n... I’ll give you a minute to get ready, but after that, you have to run... I don’t want to hurt you,” Jonathan said, his voice carrying an unsettling mix of calm and sincerity.

“You fucking liar! You put bells on my fucking feet! You gassed me! You have no fucking intentions of letting me go!” Y/n tried shoving Jonathan, her desperation evident, but his unwavering strength proved impossible.

Y/n felt a mix of fear and desperation as the distorted voice of Jonathan haunted her in the dark forest. The minute he gave her felt like an eternity, her mind racing with confusion and terror. She could barely comprehend what had happened to her – the bells on her feet, the agonizing pain, the disorienting surroundings.

As the seconds ticked away, Y/n attempted to collect herself. She fumbled to her feet, the pain shooting through her legs with each movement. She desperately wiped away her tears, trying to focus on her surroundings. The distorted voices in her head urged her to find a way out, to escape from this nightmare.

"Jonathan, please!" she pleaded, her voice shaky and weak.

But Jonathan remained silent, hidden behind the burlap mask, his presence lingering in the shadows. The ominous silence amplified Y/n's anxiety as the countdown continued. The forest seemed to close in on her, each shadow playing tricks on her mind.

As Y/n continued to struggle against Jonathan's grip, he finally let her go. She stumbled backward, her vision still blurry and disoriented. Tears streamed down her face as she realized the gravity of her situation.

“Your minute is up, Y/n,” Jonathan said coldly.

Panicking, Y/n attempted to move, but the pain in her ankles was excruciating. The bells on her feet jingled with each step, amplifying her fear. She could barely see the distorted figures of trees around her, unsure of where to go.

Jonathan's distorted voice echoed, “Run, Y/n. Run if you want to escape.”

With her heart pounding in her ears, Y/n turned around and limped forward, desperately trying to navigate the nightmarish forest. The fear of being caught and the pain in her feet merged into a tormenting symphony.

Every step felt like agony, the pain from her ankles shooting through her with every move. Determined, Y/n forced herself to pick up the pace, only to be met with the relentless jingle of the bells on her feet, echoing through the unsettling silence of the distorted forest. Her screams of frustration reverberated, a desperate attempt to drown out the haunting sound. Uncertain of the reality around her, Y/n pushed herself forward, driven by the primal instinct to escape from the unknown horrors lurking in the shadows.

The echoing chime of the bells attached to her feet seemed to resonate through the eerie forest, an ominous soundtrack to her desperate flight. Despite the seemingly impossible task of escaping undetected, Y/n pressed on, fueled by fear and rage.

Tears streamed down her face as she navigated the distorted landscape, grappling with the stark contrast between the professor she respected and this nightmarish pursuer. Regret and self-blame consumed her thoughts as she questioned whether she had unknowingly unlocked a darker side of Jonathan Crane or if this twisted game had been his true nature all along.

As the forest blurred around her, Y/n couldn't gauge how much time had passed, but the feeling of being hunted intensified with every breath.

The shadows danced around her, but Y/n had more pressing concerns. The closest forest was on the outskirts of Gotham, and by her knowlegde, this wasn’t it. The trees surrounding her didn't match the familiar landscape. Adding to the surreal experience, the echoing sounds of concrete beneath her feet contradicted the visual illusions that played out around her.

Although the effects of the gas were gradually diminishing, the horror lingered. Trees transformed into buildings, and lampposts seemed to sprout from the ground, creating a nightmarish dreamscape that defied the logic of Gotham's familiar streets.

Navigating the unnaturally morphing terrain was challenging on its own, but the addition of bells sewn to her ankles introduced a cruel twist to Y/n's desperate attempt to escape. A sharp turn around a building resulted in the bells grazing against a rough surface, tearing at her delicate skin. Agonizing pain shot up her legs, forcing her to collapse in sheer torment. A cry of pain escaped her lips, quickly stifled in the realization that Jonathan could be lurking anywhere, ears attuned to her distress.

As she sat on the ground, cradling her injured foot, hot tears streamed down her face. The sight of her foot revealed a troubling scene – it was red, irritated, and blood slowly trickled to the ground. Cursing under her breath, she was foolishly leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, marking her path for Jonathan to follow.

Defeated and desperate, Y/n closed her eyes, surrendering to the overwhelming hopelessness that enveloped her. Resting her head against the wall behind her, she weeped. She damned from the very beginning. Jonathan's idea of escape left her grappling with uncertainty – was his definition of ‘escape’ merely leaving this immediate area, contacting the police, or leaving Gotham altogether? Didn’t matter, she didn’t know.

Even if Y/n managed to ‘escape’, she knew all too well that Jonathan wouldn't simply let her be. Having spent months in his company, she had learned that determination and obsession defined him. The prospect of escaping his clutches seemed increasingly elusive, leaving Y/n trapped in a sinister game of hide and seek.

Refusing to succumb to hopelessness against the wall, Y/n gathered her remaining strength. She couldn't accept this as the end; she needed to keep going. Rising to her feet with deliberate determination, she carried on moving. Instead of running, which would only amplify the bells' noise and her exhaustion, Y/n pressed on with a steady walk. She was determined not to let Jonathan's twisted game break her spirit.

Undoubtedly, the blood marked her path, but Y/n had no other choice. Pressing forward was her only option. The effects of the gas seemed to have worn off, revealing a less distorted reality, albeit no less grim. She recognized that she was now in the Narrows, but the specific location remained a mystery.

As she moved cautiously ahead, a voice, dripping with malevolence, echoed from behind her. "I see my Dear has hurt herself..." Her blood ran cold. She didn't need to turn around to know she was in deep trouble.

The tears flowed freely down Y/n's face. "Why are you doing this?"

Jonathan remained silent, a chilling stillness in the air. He took a step forward, and instinctively, she took one back.

"Please..."

Suddenly, Jonathan lunged forward, catching her off guard. Y/n had no time to react as he tackled her to the ground, his weight pinning her down. She screamed and thrashed, the muffled sounds of her distress lost in the indifferent hum of Gotham's background noise. People in nearby buildings likely heard, but in a city like Gotham, such cries often went unanswered.

"Like a doe that's been shot," Jonathan spoke in a low, unsettling tone near her ear.

A syringe emerged from his pocket, and panic surged through her. She squirmed and fought, but his hold was unyielding. The needle pierced her upper thigh, and a sudden rush of paralysis coursed through her body. As consciousness waned, she heard Jonathan's remorseful voice.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," he uttered, holding her captive on the unforgiving ground.

"I thought you were my friend.." Y/n cried, her voice echoing in the desolation of the Narrows.

The world around Y/n blurred as the drug took effect, robbing her of control over her own body. Jonathan's mask became an indistinct smudge, but his unsettling presence still lingered. The last words she heard before succumbing to unconsciousness were Jonathan's remorseful apology, leaving her with a sense of betrayal and a haunting question: What had she done to deserve this? -

A/N: I think it's pretty clear by now I have a chasing(Prey/Predator) kink🧍‍♀️I don't know about you guys, but I want that adrenaline rush of being chased by an obsessive man 😫🤚 Thank you for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it. My requests are open for feel free to request 💚

[darthannie]

day seventeen: praise kink with jonathan crane

pairing: Jonathan Crane x f!reader word count: 532 warnings: not much really, lots of praise, oral sex a/n: Finally got around to writing a shorter one! I really like the idea of Jonathan being all sweet and shit. Really makes me Think. kinktober masterlist

Your boyfriend, Jonathan, was usually stressed when he got home from work. Being a doctor in one of the most infamous places in Gotham did a number on him. He entered your apartment and hung up his coat and traversed the apartment to find you. You were in the bedroom, lounging after a long day. You got up and gave him a hug and a kiss. 

“I missed you today,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” 

“Yeah, what about me?” 

He smiled and stroked your face. His voice was soft. “I kept thinking about you on your knees for me.”

“Like this?” You knelt in front of him and pulled out his cock. You licked along the length before putting it in your mouth. He quickly hardened as you sucked. You moaned as he twitched in your mouth. “Good girl. You’re so good at that,” he whispered. Jonathan stroked your cheek, feeling himself through it. 

He took some control back, thrusting deeper into your mouth. You gagged slightly and he laughed lightheartedly. “Come on I know you can take it.” 

You closed your eyes and relaxed your throat, moaning as he finally put his entire cock in your mouth. He pulled out and gestured for you to get on the bed. You sat up on the bed and he curled a finger to coax you closer to him. You slid towards the edge of the bed and took off your underwear and silk slip, leaving you completely bare. 

“Open up for me,” he said. You’re jaw unhinged and he immediately stuck two fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. He slid his fingers in and out of your mouth, making you suck. You coated them in your spit. “Beautiful. Look at those absolutely gorgeous lips wrapped around my fingers. Perfect.” 

Once he was satisfied, he took those same fingers and stuck them inside of you, bending them at the knuckle. He got down on his knees and ran his tongue around your clit. He licked and sucked like he needed it more than anything. He pulled away after a few minutes. “I need to be inside you. Now.” 

He didn’t even bother taking off his clothes. He lifted your legs and helped you move further onto the bed. He entered you swiftly, tossing his head back as he felt you squeeze around him. He wanted you cum soon, setting a fast pace. “I’ve been waiting all day for this. You’re taking me so well.” He moaned as he watched you underneath him. “You’re so pretty when you squirm. Do you wanna cum, pretty girl?”  You nodded rapidly and he rubbed your clit with his thumb, quickening his pace. His voice was saccharine, “Cum for me.”

Your body shook as you reached your peak. “Look at that pretty little face. You’re so pretty when you cum.” When your body calmed he pulled out of you and stroked himself before spilling on your stomach. He groaned, “Look at how much you made me cum. Fuck, what a good girl.” You felt your face get warm. He was being particularly sweet today, there must have been something in the water. 

Taglist:

@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylum, @anasanthology, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting,@queenofstresss, @flwrs4aust, @mrkdvidal1989, @00hsv, @laylasbunbunny

(If something is up with your tag or you would like to be added, let me know!)

[laxi0v0]

I guess I'm posting this sneak peek incase everyone thinks I'm dead again.

Who thought what would motivate me to draw again are boobs

[vintagepvssy]

(Mostly) NSFW Headcanons - Part II

Disclaimer: Slight spoilers ahead so be warned. Just covering movies I have seen before or know a decent amount about the character. Overall, just my own personal opinions. This is just for shits and giggles so feel free to disagree. I’m also very aware that I’m being a hater rn.

Red Eye (2005) | Wes Craven - Jackson Rippner

• FREAKY ASS DUDE

• probably would learn everything about you before asking you out

• mean asf, like definitely the type to pick on you and call you a cry baby

• loves, loves, loves roleplay, specifically: CNC (Burglar x Sleeping Victim)

• big on humiliating you, probably the type to hold your head down while giving head. Likes his balls being sucked..

• feral mf, loves to use his teeth (ankle biter energy) and eats pussy like a champ [insert slurping noises]

Perriers Bounty (2009) | Ian Fitzgibbon - Michael McCrea

• top contender for best in bed

• grimey little dude.. but hey, bums know how to lay pipe like it’s their god given purpose

• not attached to any particular fetish or kink just very experimental and kinky

• 3 words: tongue in ass. There I said it. Specifically from the back, he will stick his tongue in places god hasn’t even seen.

Broken (2012) | Rufus Norris - Mike Kiernan

• spontaneous and sensual. Probably an exhibitionist lowkey

• can be a bit selfish at times, but definitely makes it a priority to make you cum.

• could definitely see him having a thing for stockings or thigh highs

Inception (2010) | Christopher Nolan - Robert Fischer

• if a boy was a princess it would be him

• DADDY ISSUES

• all bark no bite, he’s a bottom if I’ve ever seen one. Loves being told what to do and how to take it

• big fan of praise and humiliation

• will dom at times but definitely is not his preference

Watched the Detectives (2007) | Paul Soter - Neil Lewis

• Puppy

• horny teenager vibes, probably would fuck you in his office while your bent over his desk

• loves roleplay but in the vanilla way like: cop x criminal, stepsiblings 🤭, strangers, Bonny and Clyde. Just overall loves recreating cheesy pornos.

• loves when you’re all natural down there

• definitely likes to think he’s the one in charge but you would absolutely wear the pants in the relationship

• whiny asf, likes to whimper and pout. Big on theatrics.

Breakfast on Pluto (2005) | Neil Jordan - Patricia Kitten Braden

• the queen herself 👸

• another top contender for best sexual partner

• pillow princess, loves to be taken care of but will absolutely do the same for you. Definitely giving switch vibes

• super tender and sensual, could definitely see a friends to lovers trope here

• LOVES to tease and loves sexual tension. Wandering hands and subtle glances kind of shit

Sunshine (2007) | Danny Boyle - Robert Capa

• needy little freak but in a subtle way

• you would probably have to make the first move

• would probably zone out during sex ngl

• classic fan of gripping hips and neck kisses, relatively vanilla but open to exploring

• nonchalant lover but good bf overall

The Dark Knight Rises (2012) | Christopher Nolan - Jonathan Crane

• say it with me now— Mommy Issues

• don’t be afraid to join in— daddy issues

• probably grew up with his grandma or two loving parents that he despises deeply

• sick little gremlin, probably into sounding or golden showers

• two words: doggy style 😎

• he’s a switch, but mostly doms because he gets off on the thought that he’s better than you

• big on quickies, hump and dump kind of dude. Casual sex, but not super big on multiple partners

• so repulsed by the thought of sex that either the utter crippling shame of it turns him on so much that he acts like a deranged animal

• or is so repulsed that it hinders him and only does it when absolutely necessary

28 Days Later (2002) | Danny Boyle - Jim

• Jim, Jim, Jim — I love him with my whole heart and my whole pussy

• hear me out.. probably the best sex out of everyone HEAR ME OUT

• this man is DEVOTED okay!! Bro would take out an army base of 20 men just to get a lick of pussy (more so, a gentle sensual kiss, shared between two troubled lovers)

• you know he’ll eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Probably would bring his own bib and cutlery js 🙄

• not overly kinky, in fact probably a bit inexperienced, but satisfaction is guaranteed.

[mydear-corinthian]

MASTERLIST : Cillian Murphy + characters

Main masterlist here.

Notice: This will be updated once every new post is posted. Last Update: 4/14/2024

THOMAS "TOMMY" SHELBY - Peaky Blinders ★ Attention - smut ↳ You're a jazz singer and you were invited to Tommy's brother's wedding and you caught his attention. ★ A Peaky Blinder - fluff ↳ You encountering an assaulter while drinking on the Garrison pub. ★ Fainting - angst & fluff ↳ How they react when you faint. ★ Protection - angst & fluff ↳ You were protecting your son, Charlie when Billy Kimber's men ambushed your shared home.

JONATHAN CRANE / SCARECROW - The Dark Knight Trilogy ★ Unsaid Feelings - smut ↳ Jonathan Crane is your psychologist and you're starting to have feelings for him in which you thought was wrong.

LENNY MILLER - Anna ★ upcoming

ROBERT FISCHER - Inception ★ upcoming

[cillianhead]

Sitting Pretty || Jonathan Crane x Reader

summary: Needy and so incredibly horny, you seek out your boyfriend to treat your ailments.

Here's a little short thing for y'all <3

Warnings: Smut, cockwarming, graphic language, swearing, unprotected P in V, slight degradation, praising, there's a bit of slapping but nothing too serious, adult content.

18+ Minors DNI.

Seeking out Jonathan was pretty easy, he finally had a day off of work for once but he was in his study anyway, reading over medical documents, prescriptions, legal forms, and all that boring stuff you didn't particularly care for. He hadn't paid any attention to you all day, a small peck in the morning before he slipped out of bed and went into his home office to work was all he had given you today.

"Jonny?" You asked meekly, creaking the door of his study open. You were in one of his button up shirts, though none of the buttons were done up, leaving your bare chest and stomach on display. He looked up from his work, quirking an eyebrow at you. Just the sight of him, his glasses sitting on his pretty nose and still in his pyjamas as he worked. He looked so handsome, it made you squeeze your bare thighs together.

"What is it, bunny?" Jonathan tilted his head at you, waving you over with a curl of his finger. Your feet padded over to him and you could feel his hungry eyes on your tits, nipples hard from the cold air.

"Need you..." Was all you could get out as you sat on his warm lap, an arm of his slipped around your waist. "Please... you've barely... given me any attention at all today, Jonny..."

Jonathan just smirked as he signed off another bit of paperwork, humming, not giving his full attention to you. You frowned grumpily. "Is that so?" He knew you were all worked up, he knew it from the second you walked into the room with that sad little look on your face. "Well too bad, too busy with work, my love. Maybe later." He mumbled dismissively.

"Please!" You cried, leaning your head into the crook of his neck, squeezing your eyes shut. Whining like a needy brat. "I'll take anything you can give me please... please... just need you inside of me, I'll be good, Jonny..."

Jonathan sighed, knowing how you were when you were horny. You wouldn't leave him alone until you got what you want, got what you needed. "I'll tell you what, you can sit on my cock but you're not allowed to move, do you hear me?" He grabbed you by your chin sternly, pen still slotted between his fingers. "No playing around, sweetheart." You just nodded feverishly, you quickly pulled down his pyjama pants, his cock was already hard and red for you. Biting your lip, you slipped down your underwear, letting it fall onto the floor as you ground your wet cunt against his head until you sank down on him, back pressed against his clothed chest. You let out a low moan, squeezing around him, you could hear him take in a deep breath through his nose as he kept writing, knowing your pussy had an intoxicating effect over him.

"F-Feels so good, Jonathan... thank you," You mumbled, trying your best to keep your aching hips still. Your clit throbbed with need as the head of his dick pressed snugly against your cervix in the most deliciously painful way.

"Now you've got what you want you can just sit there and look pretty for me, darling." Jonathan pinched your sensitive nipple, you gasped at this, clenching around him causing him to let out a throaty groan. "You've gotta stop doing that, baby, or you won't be allowed to sit here anymore." You squeezed his cock again at the nickname which earned you a hard slap on your clit, making you cry.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... you just feel too good..." You whined, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder. He could tell you were struggling to sit still, could tell you still needed more.

You sat there for a little while longer, being good, being obedient while he did his work and his dick sat inside you, cunt hugging it tightly and needily. But you were growing more and more restless by the second.

"Touch your clit f'me," Jonathan whispered deep into your ear. "Want you to cum while sitting on my cock."

"C-Can't..."

"Don't tell me you want me to do it for you too?" He grunted, clearly displeased with your answer. You shook your head with embarrassment. "Pathetic slut, can't even touch yourself, takin' my cock but you also need my fingers too? Greedy bitch." He gave you a smack on your cheek, face stinging, as he slipped his fingers between your sticky folds and rubbed perfect circles on your swollen clit. He was so hot when he was mean.

"Thank you... thank you so much..." You were a stupid mess, wanting to bounce on his cock so bad. He was touching you so perfectly and you hated how it turned you on even further how he continued to do his work even with you sitting on him, his cock fully sheathed inside you and his fingers working your clit, working you closer to your oncoming orgasm. You were thankful for whatever he gave you. Shifting your hips, trying to readjust, to get more friction of some kind, as you felt yourself on the brink of cumming, you got another hard slap on your clit before he continued touching you. "Ow!"

"Remember what I fucking said about no moving." Jonathan grumbled, you felt his dick twitch inside you, you knew he was close too, getting off in the way your pussy perfectly squeezed him.

You were dripping all over him, so wet for him. He twitched inside of you again and suddenly before you could really process what was going on he slammed his pen down and pushed you down over the desk, pushing your face down into the expensive mahogany as he pulled his hips out before slamming right back in. Jonathan couldn't take it anymore, couldn't take the way your pussy squeezed him, he was holding back bucking into you that entire time, so he finally gave in and started fucking you.

"Oh!" You felt yourself unraveling, creaming around him. "Yes!" Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he fucked into you roughly.

"Fuckin' take it, that's it, little girl, take my big cock," Jonathan groaned, slamming in and out of you, his cock hitting your cervix perfectly and heavy balls hitting your clit with a perfect rhythm. "That's a good girl, so fucking good for me, gonna fill you with my cum." You were writhing on the desk, your pussy gushing for him. "So wet, so wet for me, gonna cum... fuck... gonna cum...!" He groaned, spilling his seed into you, filling you with his sweet cum. Stilling his hips completely as he let out his own whiny sounds of pleasure, despite his rough treatment of you, his whines were high pitched and a bit pathetic, it only turned you on further the way his rough exterior melted as he came. You squeezed him further, your own orgasm still going on, milking him of all he's got and smiling to yourself, knowing you got what you want. "Fucking hell." He whispered.

"Thank you... thank you!" You moaned and you could feel his nails digging into your hips as he breathed deeply, coming down from his high. Your clit throbbing and your head spinning, you gasped for air. "Thank you so much... Jonny... love you..."

"So grateful for my cum aren't you?" He hummed, pulling you down with him, down onto his office chair again, softening cock still inside you. Cum dripping out of you slowly. "What a sweet thing you are..." He sniffed your hair, burying his nose in your neck. You just leaned back on him, fucked out and all dumb. Your mind was blank with pure contentment. "Such a dumb pretty little girl... gonna make you my wife." He praised, placing a sloppy kiss on your lips before he slid the chair over to his desk and continued his work.

-

I hope you enjoyed!! <3