#no man's land jonathan crane

[johnsjackolantern4902]

No Man's Land Jon corruption kink

Content warning: smut

John wore a sexy nun costume because he was feeling a little more adventurous tonight. You had opened your bedroom door and were greeted with a,

"For give me father, for I have sinned by thinking of y/n in a lustful manner. I swear it won't happen again."

"Oh, but it will, won't it?" You teased. He whimpered. "Come here, you sinning slut." You teased some more.

"No!" He played along, turning away from you. You held him closer to you and began leaving open mouthed kisses on his neck. "Ahh... ahhhh! Y/n!" He moaned as you slowly snaked your hand into his thong and began stroking his dick. You let this go on for a bit. You suddenly forcefully pushed him down onto his back, causing him to yelp. You tore off his panties and began giving open mouthed kisses to his cock and balls. "Ahhhh! Y/n! Please! M- more!" He begged. You began sucking him off painfully slowly. He cried for you to go faster, his cock throbbing in your mouth. "Please! Please! I n- need you!" He begged. He whined when you stopped sucking him off as he felt the cold, unforgiving air touch his dick. You began to strip yourself, giving him a little show. He moaned and attempted to touch himself, only for you to smack his hand away. He whined again. Once you were fully nude, you prepped him and slowly made your way onto his cock again with another hole this time. His moans picked up, more enthusiastic. "Ahh! Ahh! Ahh! Y/n!" He panted as you went down on him over and over. You suddenly grabbed his face. He whimpered.

"Only cum when I tell you to, got it?" You ordered. He nodded frantically. You let his face go. But you were so tight around him and he was already dripping precum. He was already so damn close. His eyes began to water the faster you went. "Hold it in." You ordered.

"Ihi'm trying!" He sobbed.

"Try harder." You said as you picked up the pace again. He sobbed under you.

"Please! P-please let me! I- I can't!" He begged. Before either of you knew it he came inside you, crying out your name.

"Bad boy." You said before getting off of him and flipping him over. "Count." You ordered. You slapped his ass

"Ahh! O-one..." He mumbled. You whacked him again "Nnnh! T-two..." the sight of him so pathetic made you so damn horny. You only made him count to ten before putting his mouth to your genitalia to finish you off.

[masteroffearshusband49020]

No Man's Land Scarecrow cross dresses for you

You walked into your room to get something when you suddenly noticed John kneeling on your bed. He was dressed in a sexy nun costume.

"John, what..." You started.

"I have sworn my soul to the Lord and vowed celibacy. It would be such a shame if I were to sin by sleeping around with the beautiful being who just entered the room." He said as he faked a swoon. He stared at you in anticipation. You couldn't help but laugh. He looked at you unimpressed and a little embarrassed. You fell onto the bed in front of him from laughing so hard and crawled on. He crossed his arms. You hugged him and gave him kisses.

"You're so adorable baby, don't ever change." You told him before kissing him more and trailing down his neck. His expression softened and he hugged you back.

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 10

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | Jon let’s you go on a trip with him, then can’t control his weird, freaky sex fantasies lmaoo.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, kissing, consensual sex, attempted sex trafficking?? (but like not really?), fear play (but consensual this time), actually everything’s consensual this time lol, masturbation, voyeurism, bondage, degradation, verbal humiliation, praise.

Words | 4.2k

Notes | Kinky smut ahead! Beware😼 I really played into the “he hates everyone but you” trope in this chapter and I’m so here for it.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 9

“I’m going out to meet someone about something, I shouldn’t be gone long.” 

“Oh… okay. Can I come?” He examined you and after a while you couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze as you backtracked. “I- I don’t have to… I just,”

“Fine.” He suddenly said, making your face light up. 

“Really?” 

“Yes. Stop wasting time and get dressed or we’ll be late.”

“Sorry.” You hurried to change into your stolen clothes, looking a little odd next to him in a full suit. He instructed you to bring the wristband he gave you along with the gas mask and then you were leaving, walking along the docks closer to the water now. When he put his mask on, you did the same, not sure what to expect. 

“No talking.” He said quietly when a few guys were in your eyeline. You nodded in response, following him until he stopped in front of the men. 

“Didn’t know Scarecrow had a partner.” A man snickered. 

“Yeah, who’s your pet?” 

“Enough. Do you have what I need or not?” He snapped, voiced distorted by the modulator in the mask. 

“We got it. But I think we might want a different form of payment now.” The man in front smirked, the other men muttering agreements. 

“We had a deal.” 

“Yeah well, our terms changed.” He shrugged, eyeing you with a grin that made your stomach twist. 

“You’ll give me what I want and in exchange, you don’t want money, you want her?” He confirmed, making you stiffen. He wouldn’t… Would he?

“Yep. With a pretty thing like her, we’ll make plenty more than what you’re willing to give.” 

“Fine. We have a deal.” You turned to him with wide eyes, silently asking what the fuck he was doing, but he didn’t even glance at you. The main guy motioned to someone behind him who walked away to grab something. 

“C'mere, sweetheart. I wanna get a good look at you.” He sneered and your heart dropped to your stomach. Was he really going to do this?

“You can have her after I receive what I paid for.” He said sternly and as if on cue, the man returned holding a large briefcase. When the leader gestured, he handed it to the man by your side. He grabbed your arm and walked you closer to the men, making your heart rate and breathing speed up. Once he was in front of them, he pushed you forward and you landed against the leader with a startled grunt. 

“We’re gonna have some fun with you before we start selling you, don’t worry.” He smirked, making your blood run cold. Hands were running over your body as all of the men focused on you. When someone reached for the mask, a cloud of his toxin was suddenly surrounding you, making the men cough as they staggered back. A hand grabbing your arm made you jump and you turned, finding Jon pulling you away from them as they started screaming. 

You waited until you were back inside and he set the briefcase on the desk before saying anything. Starting with a shove, you ripped the gas mask off, letting it fall to the floor, then pushed him again, making him stagger back. 

“You— dick!” When you tried to push him again, his hands circled your wrists in a bruising grip. 

“Stop.” He warned, the modulator making him sound even more intimidating. “You’re mine.” He explained firmly. 

“That’s supposed to automatically make me assume that you’re not going to do what you literally said you would do?” You hissed, voice shaking from anger that was concealing fear. 

“Do you really think so little of me?” He asked, making you falter. He released your wrists then removed his mask. 

“You scared me.” You whispered with a frown. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, never breaking eye contact as you searched for any sign of a lie. “I had to improvise. If it’s any consolation, I’m planning to spend that money on a mattress for you.” He said softly, making your frown relax. 

“I’m sorry I called you a dick.” 

“You get a pass this time because I deserved it.” He chuckled and you couldn’t help but smile. “On the bright side, you seem to be coping with your fears much better now. Did you cry?” 

“No.” You furrowed your brows at his words. 

“How did you feel?” He asked, stepping into your space. 

“Scared.” You whispered. 

“Tell me about it.” He said lowly, eyes darkening with arousal. You swallowed thickly as you processed his request. 

“Tell you what?” 

“How it felt, what you were thinking. Tell me how scared you were.” He rasped and you could feel arousal pooling in your stomach from his tone. 

“I- I was shaking… and nauseous. I thought you- you… I didn’t want you to leave me with them.” You whimpered, giving him a pout that had no visible effect on him. “The last time I was that scared was when you used the toxin on me.” You whispered. He was suddenly pulling you into a kiss and you let out a startled moan as you landed against his body. He walked you back until your thighs hit the desk, then lifted you onto it, never breaking the kiss. Placing your hands in his hair, you pulled, making him groan against your lips. When he pulled back, you let out a low whine, trying to lean forward to chase his lips, but he stopped you by putting a hand on your neck. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked, tilting his head slightly to emphasize the question. When you nodded, he tightened his grip on your neck. 

“Yes.” You quickly corrected yourself. He set the mask next to your thigh on the desk, then brought his hand up to brush your hair behind your ear, keeping his hand near your face. Making sure you were watching, he placed his fingers only centimeters above the lever on the wristband he was wearing. You stiffened, swallowing thickly against his hand as you eyed the threat only inches from your face. 

“Are you scared?” He asked quietly, making your eyes snap to his. Despite the very obvious threat, you knew that he wouldn’t do it, especially because he wasn’t wearing a mask. 

“You wouldn’t gas yourself too.” You tried to sound brave and confident, but the tremble in your voice was obvious. His lips curled into a small smirk, making your stomach twist. 

“Smart girl.” He picked up the mask and put it on, then moved his hand back in front of your face. “What about now?” Your gaze moved between his hand and the icy blue eyes through the small holes in the mask. Even though, logically, you knew he wouldn’t because he told you before he couldn’t even if he wanted to… the threat was definitely still there. But instead of the nauseating twist, your stomach was twisting in a different way. A way that made your skin flush and your core ache. 

“Yes.” You whispered. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Your cheeks heated up and you looked away from him, embarrassed. 

“No.” Your voice was barely audible. The low chuckle he released behind the modulator made you shiver, not used to hearing something so ominous. He suddenly stepped back and you almost whined at the loss of his touch. 

“Strip.” He ordered, making your eyes widen. You tentatively slid off the desk onto the floor, then started undressing. Once you got to your underwear, you hesitated, but when he didn’t do or say anything, you slid them down your legs with a blush. “Sit on the desk again.” You obeyed and he stepped between your legs once you were seated, then placed his hands back the way they were, one on your neck, the other in front of your face. 

“Touch yourself.” Your eyes widened as you stared at him in surprise. When he moved his fingers closer to the lever though, you immediately brought your hand to between your legs. Staring through the holes in the mask, you watched as his eyes trailed down your body, focusing on the way you were rubbing your clit. 

“You like this don’t you?” He asked curiously, making your face flush. “Being at my mercy… Feeling humiliated, vulnerable.” He elaborated. “Knowing that what happens to you is under my control. It scares you, but it also excites you.” Letting out a shaky breath, you rubbed your clit faster, already feeling your orgasm growing. “I could use this at any moment and you’d have no choice but to take it.” You eyed his hand for a moment before looking back to his eyes. 

“Jon,” You whispered, voice barely audible. 

“No. Scarecrow.” Your eyes widened slightly, not expecting that request at all. “Say my name again and you’ll be punished. Understand?” You nodded, feeling breathless, but his hand tightened on your throat in a warning. 

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” 

“Yes, Scarecrow.” You whispered, cheeks flushing at the unfamiliar name for him. 

“Good girl.” He muttered, making your breath catch in your throat, still barely used to such praise. 

“Can I come please?”

“You think you deserve to?” You could only stare into his piercing gaze for another moment before you had to look away. 

“I- I don’t know.” You whined. When he suddenly stepped back and let his hands drop to his sides, you let out a heavy breath. 

“Get up.” He ordered as he started removing his tie. You obeyed and waited eagerly on shaky legs. “Turn around.” Once you were facing the desk, he pulled your hands behind your back and restrained your wrists with his tie. 

“Is this okay?” He asked quietly, voice no longer distorted. 

“Please don’t stop.” You whispered. The thought of him stopping was enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

“God you’re such a fucking slut, aren’t you?” His mask was back on now, modulator distorting his voice, making him all the more intimidating. He suddenly fisted your hair and yanked your head back, pointing the wristband at your face as he held you still. “I bet you want me to use this on you.” He snickered and you did your best to shake your head as you whined. 

“What was that?” He used his grip on your hair to push your head down and then back up, as if you were nodding. “‘Yes, scarecrow’? If you insist.”

“N-no,” You whimpered, pressing your body against his to try and escape the gas that could invade your senses at any moment.  

“No? I don’t know… Seems like you want it.” His hand moved from your hair to your neck, squeezing tightly and pulling your head back to rest on his shoulder. “You sure you don’t want just a small taste?” You could barely hear him behind the mask, even with his lips so close to your ear. 

“Please…” Your voice trembled in fear, but you still ached to keep touching yourself. 

“What if I said the only way I’d fuck you is if I got to have my fun? Are you desperate enough to sacrifice your sanity, my love?” You whimpered and squeezed your thighs together, just needing him to fuck you already. 

“Jon…” You whined, pushing your hips back into his, but his hand on your neck tightened significantly and he let out a low growl. 

“What did I say?”

“I- I’m sorry! Scarecrow! I meant Scarecrow— Please, I’m sorry.” You rushed out, worried you had pushed him far enough to follow through on his threat. 

“Poor thing…” He cooed mockingly. “You touch yourself for only a few minutes and already you’re too dumb to follow a simple order.”

“I’m sorry.” You cried, tears welling in your eyes, but from humiliation of the situation and his words, not because you were genuinely upset. 

“What do you think you’d see? You said you’re not scared of me anymore so what would you see, little one?” The hand with the wristband remained by your head, which made you stay planted to his shoulder. The other started dragging down your body, over your sternum, to your stomach, then teasing your thighs. 

“I- I don’t know…” You whined, squirming to try and get his hand where you wanted it. 

“No?” You shook your head with a whimper and his hand snaked back up to your stomach, teasingly rubbing the soft skin. “You don’t think you’d see yourself with my child? After all, a come hungry whore like yourself is bound to get pregnant at one point or another. It’s just a matter of time, isn’t it?” 

“J- …Scarecrow,” You whimpered, writhing against him. “Please.”

“Please what? Find out?” 

“No! Please— please fuck me.” He suddenly removed his hands from your body, then pushed you over the desk. Grabbing your hips, he pressed his covered bulge against your ass, teasingly grinding against you, making you even needier. 

“You want my cock?” 

“Yes,” You gasped out, pushing your hips back against him. He pulled back and you were about to complain, but quickly shut your mouth once you heard the rustling of his clothes as he freed his length. He swiped the head through your folds, making you jump at the sudden pleasure. 

“Beg.” 

“Please, Sc- …Scarecrow.” You whined, embarrassed. When he remained silent, you whined even louder. “Please! Please fuck me!” He relented and you choked on a gasp when he applied more pressure until the fat head of his cock was breaching your hole. He didn’t stop until his hips were flush to your ass, feeling so incredibly deep that you couldn’t tell if it hurt or not. 

“Fuck— oh my god.” You whimpered, clenching your fists behind your back as you struggled to adjust to his size. The low, distorted groan from behind you made you shiver. “Please!” You cried, trying to wiggle your hips under him. He slowly dragged his length out, then pushed back in at the same speed, maintaining that rhythm. 

“Shh, just take it. Be a good little flesh light, close that fuck hole, and just take my cock.” Despite the warning, your mouth remained open, loud moans slipping past your lips as your walls fluttered around him. “That’s a good whore— shit… Making me feel so good, little one.”

“Oh god- please,” You sobbed. He sped up a little, grabbing your hips tightly and holding you still as he rocked into you. “Faster.” You said through a moan and surprisingly, he obeyed. He sped up even more, pulling you back by your hips with each thrust until you were moaning uncontrollably and babbling out senseless pleas. He suddenly leaned over your body, his cock pushing against your cervix almost uncomfortably as he kept thrusting. 

“Can you hear how wet your fucking cunt is?” The distorted voice right next to your ear made you shiver as you let out a quiet whimper. You could hear it. The sound of your wetness was almost deafening, even with your moans and the sound of his hips hitting against your ass. “Such a fucking slut getting off on me threatening you.” As your knees buckled and weakened, you were glad the desk was holding your weight up. 

“You want it, don’t you? You want it so bad, your pussy is practically drooling for it.” He suddenly grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, aiming the wristband on his other hand at your face again. You let out a loud moan and he chuckled quietly. “Fuck- your pussy squeezes me so tight when I do this. How’d I get so lucky, huh? I mean, I have my own personal whore at my disposal. And not only is she desperate for my cock, but she’s desperate for my toxin as well.” You whined and shook your head, the humiliation and pain on your scalp making the tears in your eyes threaten to fall. 

“No..” 

“Yes.” He said simply. “You can deny it all you want, but your body knows what it wants.” 

“Scarecrow,” You sobbed, quickly approaching your orgasm. 

“I know, little one. It’s okay.” He cooed, moving his hand to your neck and lifting your torso off the desk, making you put your weight on your shaky legs. “Are you close?” You nodded rapidly with a loud moan as he kept fucking you, his cock feeling so much deeper in this position. 

“I’m going to count down from ten. If you don’t come, I’m going to use this.” He moved the hand with the wristband to your eyeline to make sure you knew what he was talking about. “Do you understand?” 

“Y-yes.” You whimpered. He sped up his thrusts significantly, making your release a startled moan. 

“Ten.” His hand on your neck tightened, making your head feel light and floaty from that and the pleasure. “Nine. Think you can do it little one?” You nodded with a whimper, already feeling incredibly close now. “Eight.” Through the modulator in the mask, you could hear the way he was starting to breathe heavily, nearing his own orgasm as well. 

“Seven… God- maybe I should just use it anyway. You’d look so pretty coming on my cock as your fears consumed you.” He said quietly, making you let out a choked sob.

“Please.” You cried. 

“Six. Do you want that, pretty girl?” 

“N-no.” You whimpered, but it wasn’t believable when you moaned before you could even finish getting the word out. 

“I think you do… Why else would you be squeezing me so damn tight? Five.” His thrusts turned frenzied as his own orgasm grew even closer. “I can’t wait to feel you milk my cock while you scream and writhe in fear. Four.” Even though you were still mostly sure he wouldn’t actually gas you, the more he spoke, the less confident you felt in your answer. Regardless, it was hard to focus on— hard to care— with his cock pistoning in and out of you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Three. I hope you’re close.” You nodded as much as you could with his hand on your neck. “Yeah, I can tell. I can feel it… Two.” Your breathing grew rapidly, from fear or arousal you weren’t sure. 

“Ready?”

“Please— please, oh god.. please let me come.” You cried, trying to make yourself come, but struggling without his explicit permission. 

“One. Come, baby. Squeeze my fucking cock like your life depends on it, because it does.” You let out a loud sob that turned into a moan when the knot of arousal in your stomach finally snapped. He fucked you through it, hand tightening on your neck as he held you close, fully pressed to his body. “That’s it. Do a good job and make me come.”

“Oh god,” You sobbed walls fluttering around his length, making his hips stutter. “Please- please come. I need it… Need you to fill me up.” You whined as the tears in your eyes finally started to fall. They weren’t from fear, but rather desperation with a hint of overstimulation as you came down from your orgasm. His hand moved from in front of your face to around your stomach, pulling up against his body as he rutted into you eagerly. 

He stilled with a low, distorted groan and you could feel his cock twitching against your walls as he obeyed your request. You panted heavily, doing your best to ignore the new fire growing in your belly as he moaned and whined, trying to bury himself even deeper in your warmth. 

When he finally stilled and his moans died down, he removed his hand from your neck and wrapped it over your chest, still holding you against him. 

“Jon?” You asked quietly, making him startle as if he forgot you were there. He took the mask off, then pushed your hair behind your ear to place a kiss on your neck. 

“Are you okay?” He mumbled against your skin, both of you still panting. 

“Better than okay. But if you let me go, my knees are going to give out and I’m definitely going to fall.” He chuckled quietly as he stayed buried in your neck for only a moment longer before reluctantly pulling back. 

“Let me help you onto the desk, then I’ll carry you to the couch, okay?” You nodded and he maneuvered you to sit on the desk, both of you wincing when he pulled out. He settled between your legs then reached around behind you to undo his tie. “I wasn't too rough?” He discarded the fabric on the desk then lightly grabbed your wrists to pull them in front of you and massage them gently. 

“I loved it, Jon. Honestly. It was perfect.” He didn’t respond and instead just wrapped your legs around his hips to lift you and carry you over to the couch. He gently laid you down then took off his shirt and pants, laying them neatly over the back of the couch. When he grimaced as he started tucking his softening cock, still wet from your arousal, back in his underwear, you stopped him. You moved forward enough to wrap your lips around it, moaning at your combined tastes. 

“What— oh fuck… What are you doing?” He asked, hissing as you licked his sensitive cock. After a few more licks, you pulled back, giving him a saccharine smile. 

“There. All clean.” You said, tucking his semi back in his underwear. 

“Tease.” He muttered with a small smile, laying down and pulling you into him. He was quiet for a while as he stroked your hair and let you trail your fingers over his torso, but eventually he broke the silence. “Are you sure it was okay? I didn’t mean to do all of that. I- I shouldn’t… have done all of that. Not when you were on the verge of tears after what happened.” Honestly, you had forgotten about what happened until he mentioned it. You leaned up so he could look into your eyes as you spoke. 

“I loved it, Jon. We’ve never.. done anything like that,” You meant the consensual part of consensual non consent, “and I really really liked it. It was fucking hot.” He didn’t react to your confession as he studied you carefully, searching for the hidden truth behind your words. “And honestly, you made me a little curious about how your toxin would affect someone who’s that horny. Almost enough to make me want to try it.” 

“Are you mad?” He asked in disbelief, making your cheeks flush in embarrassment. 

“I- I just… It would be interesting to study, don’t you think?” You said sheepishly, feeling more foolish the longer he looked at you like you truly belong in Arkham. “Sorry… Forget I said anything.” You laid back down, feeling incredibly embarrassed. 

“I was only referring to you wanting to try it yourself.” He explained. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” 

“It was stupid anyway. I’ll leave the sciencey things to you from now on.” You tried to lighten the mood, but your tone didn’t convey the lightheartedness you meant for it to. 

“Would you like to be involved in the.. sciencey things?” You were only mostly sure he wasn’t making fun of you. “You can’t help with the chemistry behind it obviously, but if you want to be involved in the rest, I wouldn’t mind.” 

“I- I don’t know… I didn’t handle myself very well tonight. It’s probably not a good idea.” You muttered despondently. 

“Can I ask you something?” You nodded in response. “Was that the first time you’ve ever attended an illegal deal as a fugitive?” 

“…Yes?” Obviously it was. 

“That is my point. You’ve never done anything like that before, of course you didn’t handle it very well.”  

“Oh. Yeah I guess that’s true.” You trailed off into silence as your thoughts consumed you. Should you? It sounds… not necessarily fun, but like it could be something you wouldn’t exactly hate. You’d get to spend more time with him too. 

“Think about it for a while.” He said, dragging you out of your thoughts. 

“Okay.” You sighed. Then, “Jon?” He hummed, telling you to continue. “Why did you take off your clothes when you were already dressed?” You asked, continuing trailing your fingers over his bare chest. You didn’t mind it— not even a little bit. You were just curious. 

“I assumed you’d prefer it.” He said simply, minding his tone. 

“Why do you think that?” You asked, then, “Not that you’re wrong— I’m just wondering.” He let out a quiet sigh and you laid your palm flat against his chest to feel his heart that was beating only slightly faster than normal. 

“Because I prefer it.” His heart pounded faster and harder, but so did yours. “It’s different like this than being dressed.” Jealously, you wondered who else he’s laid like this with. Surely with any previous girlfriends, maybe even his mom. But at the same time, you’re not sure if you believe that. The way he expresses physical touch is almost awkward, unpracticed, as if he doesn’t have any previous experience laying with anyone but you. While the thought made your stomach flutter, it also made your chest ache with sympathy. “Falling asleep on me?” He suddenly asked. 

“No- sorry. Just thinking.” You said quietly, picking up the motions of your fingers against his chest again. You couldn’t believe that Jonathan Crane— the Scarecrow— was such a softy. But not just a softy in general- only for you. The thought was enough to make you almost nauseous with butterflies. 

Part 11

Taglist

@arcanebabe @quietnymph11 @dynamitehacke @pedrisgatorade @mandowhatnow @thefandomdiaries07 @itsalwaysbetternottoknow @mrkdvidal1989 @nx-0w @yrluvvr @arieslost @some-clever-username @itsalwaysbetternottoknow @geekmom3 @pleasant-meadow (didn’t let me tag —>) @imlikefrhungry @melanieani @oopy @slay-walker @annalauras-stuff @anakin-dilf @riddler-zs @tumblin-theworldaway @fire-treasure-iii @ephiiphanyy

[saintmuses]

❝𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙜𝙡𝙤𝙬 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙗𝙤𝙖𝙧𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩❞

Pairing:

Jealous!Jonathan Crane x Reader

Summary:

Despite they were not even together, Jonathan Crane made her suffer the consequences for flirting with Bruce Wayne.

Warning(s): implied future SMUT. Slightly Dub-con. Dominant and implied possessive Jonathan. Spanking. Minors, dni!

Word Count: 954

The steering wheel groaned slightly under the pressure of Jonathan’s hands that were curled into fists around it.

He couldn’t stop the moments from spilling over in his head like flashbacks in a film reel on the screen.

She was…so gorgeous tonight. In that sparkly dress that drew the attention of everyone.

Even Bruce Wayne walked up to her with intentions in his eyes to take her home with him.

Jonathan didn’t…he didn’t think she would be the one to flirt back with that godforsaken man who considered himself as the savior of Gotham, to feed the fuel to the fire of brimstone and ashes inside of his mind.

He was violently screaming inside of his head, unraveling as his rationality fell apart by each word that repeated back to him as a sacred prayer he refused to kneel for.

One of the things he dealt with on a daily basis as a symbolism of insanity that sometimes shone in his icy blue eyes, through words from his tongue, or even in his laughter when he was alone in empty space with four walls around him.

Jonathan was breathing heavily, the pure rage within him having reached its height.

No one had a claim to her, but him. He had always been secretly possessive over her in many forms. When they were in college, she became his friend, and he went so far as eradicating her other friends that way she could only go to him in the name of friendship. However, he had always knew he wanted her, but never as far as doing anything because he never had to worry about her finding other people to be with.

Now that chain that held them together was weakening as it was clear the bond was going to be threatened by others.

She was his.

He steered the car toward the edge of the dirt off the road, then he slammed his foot on the brakes causing the tires to screech as he did so. He pulled the vehicle to a sudden stop causing her to turn her head to look at him with confusion in her gaze.

Jonathan turned towards her but said nothing, his eyes locked on her as his body trembled from the intense rage and he felt like he could burst.

“You really are something special, you know that?” He finally said something, although icily, eyes blazing with brimstone as he stared straight at her.

He was furious to the point that he couldn’t see or think clearly, but he couldn’t deny how much of a lure she was to him.

“I’m not sure why I haven’t given you a good spanking yet,” he huffed, storm began to take over his irises as his lips curled into a snarl.

Her breathing hitched as her eyes widened before narrowing it. “I dare you.” She hissed, eyes narrowing in fury as she challenged him.

Oh, she should know he would accept it.

He heard her yelping when he reached across the passenger seat and dragged her over onto him in the driver’s seat where she was forced to accommodate her knees around his thighs on the leather. He then dragged the hem of her dress just under the curve of her ass, and she gasped when he landed a hard smack on the back of her thigh.

He wasn’t going to stop with one spanking, and he continued to slap one of her thighs until she started to let out little gasps, ending with whimpering.

“You deserve every red mark that’s going to be on your skin, sweetheart.” He said lowly, informing her with monotonous tone.

He reached for her thighs to grab the hem of her dress, pushing it up until it bunched up around her waist. He did all that too quickly that she did not have time to react to his ministrations. She hissed in surprise when his hands grabbed her ass; fingers squeezing her flesh firmly in a possessive hold, ignoring the lace of her panties before using one of his hands to land a harsh smack on her ass. “You’re mine.”

Of course, he knew she was surprised by his behavior since he had never acted like that towards her. He continued to alternatively swat her thighs and her ass, enjoying every second he could spend making her feel the sting of his slaps.

“Am I making myself clear to you, sweetheart?” he growled, glaring at her through the glass bounded by his metal frames.

He withdrew one of his hands from her ass until he reached between them, reaching down towards her legs. His lips curled into a smirk when he smacked her hard between her legs, enjoyed hearing her gasp.

Jonathan noticed the sudden change in her body language and the way her eyes widened as he crossed the line.

Her eyes were a bit strung out, and before she could respond, he reached behind her and grabbed her ass with his fingers, digging into her raw skin with his fingertips which made her thighs quiver in response while whimpering. 

He knew he was getting to her, and he was enjoying it. A part of him could never see himself taking this far, but he couldn’t stop himself now.

He looked at her with a slight maniac grin and continued to slap the inside of her thigh, then he reached for the thin fabric of her panties, curling his fingers into the underwear before pulling it aside until her cunt was exposed as he gave her another slap. He mentally noted a slick sensation that came from her cunt.

“Enjoying this, sweetheart?” he said condescendingly, his voice growing lower and more deeply with each word.

[supercap2319]

"Why don't we skip the song and dance, Jase, and go straight to the fun part?" Y/N landed on the same building as the infamous Red Hood. The ruthless and the most dangerous criminal and vigilante in Gotham City.

Jason had been teaming up with Jonathan Crane, and despite Dicks's warnings to stay away from Jason, Y/N couldn't. Even now, with a gun pointed at him. Jason cocked his gun. "I don't know. Blowing your brains out seems like fun to me." Jason said.

"Yeah, until my canary cry stops your bullets." Y/N told him. "Why don't you really tell me why you're so angry and scary."

"Keep talking, and I'll show you just how angry and scary I can be."

"You know, Jason. They say when a man is pissed, he needs to either take a load off or blow a load. Which one are you? A guy with poison inside his mind or a horny criminal who needs to get off?"

Jason chuckled. "Why don't you come closer and find out?"

Y/N smiled. "I will."

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... Pt. 3 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

notes: And the plot and smut continues hehe. In this installment I used Lady Arkham as inspiration. She is originally a DC character/villian. The backstories that I included here are all based on the original DC comicbook/nolanverse lore. I literally used Batman wiki for additional research.

Summary| Crane brought a woman home. That was definitely not something he ever anticipated that he would ever do. He needs to trust her and she's starting to have second thoughts. Was leaving Gotham the right thing for her to do? Yes, she likes Crane but does she like him enough? What is he hiding from her? Oh honey, he was hiding a lot...

Warnings| Fire, mentions of a gun, drugs, smut- fingering, teasing, masturbation, dubious consent, the word "r*pe" is used once, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving). Violence, death, insanity, overdose (no death), infidelity, murder, police violence, trauma, abandonment, general unpleasantness.

word count: 8086k

Lonely Day- System of a Down 🎵

Love Song- Jack Off Jill 🎶

Superstar- Sonic Youth 🎵

Please please please read warnings for this one- we're going over childhood trauma

i 

The helicopter landed in an open field in the outskirts of the city. She and Crane climbed out and ducked beneath the blades as they crossed the pasture. 

“We’re outside the city now. We’re safe here and depending on how Ra’s plan goes, we can stay here.” Crane looked down at the girl beside him. She watched the helicopter, distractedly, as it rose into the air and flew away. The field around them immediately quieted without the presence of the aircraft and they could hear the other breathe for the first time in a while. 

“Where do we go now?” She looked around them at the expanse of pasture and wild flowers hidden in the dark. 

“Over this hill.” Crane started walking and she followed, staying a few paces behind him. When they reached the top of the hill, she saw an old scarecrow standing in a field, empty of crops. The man was made of burlap and covered with rags. Straw exploded out of the scarecrow’s body. She looked at Crane who’d stopped to look at the scarecrow. Sensing her beside him, he glanced back at her and clenched his jaw. He gave no explanation or story and she didn’t want to ask because she didn’t want to cause him more pain. They walked a little farther and as they did, a large house came into view. Crane pointed it out to her with a sneer, directed at the house, not at her, “and there’s my father’s house.” 

The lights inside the mansion were on and it leaked light across the landscape that separated them. 

“Is your father home?” She asked and he chuckled darkly. 

“No, I had the housekeeper open the house for us. Just like with the helicopter, I find it is always useful to play your cards carefully. I was suspicious of Ra’s because I’m suspicious of everyone, even you,” he nodded down at her and she frowned slightly. “I don’t make friends easily, they often disappoint me.” He smiled at his own self-effacing humor. 

“Have I disappointed you?” She asked him. He turned his icy blue eyes to her and shook his head.

“No but we aren’t friends,” he laughed lightly and looked back at the house in the distance. 

“No? Then what are we?” She pouted a little, looking down at her feet and then to his face. 

“We’re more,” he answered evenly and began to walk again. She blushed and hurried to follow him, hiding her smile. Crane even smiled, blocking out the bad memories of the place they now found themselves in. He was no longer scared of the scarecrow but the memories he associated with the figure in the field did little to comfort him. They walked on until they reached the front gate and Crane typed in a passcode on an elaborate screen. The gates were black iron with sharp spikes fixed to the top and they opened with a long and droning squeak. The driveway changed to gravel as Crane led her up to the front door and he pulled on the lion’s head door knocker, releasing a loud door chime inside the house. One wing of the house, she noticed, was burned. 

“You’re right, I’m starting to realize that I really know nothing about you.” She looked up at the large gothic mansion above her.

“That,” Crane turned his head to her and sighed as if it were obvious, “is what a second date is for.” 

The front door opened and a man in a tuxedo greeted them coldly, reminding her of Crane. 

“Welcome back, doctor.” The butler deadpanned and Crane pushed past, wiping his feet in the entryway. She followed suit and nodded to the butler, smiling excitedly. 

“This is Miss —; Miss Y/N Y/L/N.” Crane gestured his hand carelessly between them and continued on into the reception hall. All the walls were carved from solid wood into even square panels. 

“Welcome to the Crane House, ma’am.” The butler bowed his head briefly and followed them. She nodded her head in thanks and became immediately enraptured by the spooky house. “Shall we serve dinner now or would you like to change?” 

Crane turned and cleared his throat, his eyes trying to focus on the room without his glasses. “We’ll change first, Hobbs.” 

“There are clothes laid out in the bedrooms.” The butler bowed and disappeared behind a swinging door. She turned to Crane and laughed. 

“What the hell is this place?” She asked in a bewildered whisper. Crane chuckled, finding the girl adorable in her amazement. 

“This is my childhood home.” 

“So this is where the famous Dr. Crane was raised. I’m intrigued.” She batted her eyelashes and ran up some of the stairs, her fingers trailing the thick banisters. Crane smiled and followed her. 

“Do you like seeing this side of me? Does it thrill you?” His voice prodded her heart and her legs became wobbly. 

“Everything about you does that,” she stood one step above him and cupped his face. She ran her finger down his angular cheekbone and swiped across his wide chapped lips. She kissed his neck and beneath his jaw before finally kissing his lips. 

“For now,” he whispered as she pulled away. They climbed the rest of the stairs up to the second floor and Crane led her down a tight hallway. Animal heads were mounted on the walls and she studied them with a mixed sense of appreciation. Crane pushed open a door with a crystal doorknob. 

“This is your room,” he swept his hand through the room and she gasped in awe. The one room was nearly the size of her entire apartment in Gotham. The walls were painted with elaborate murals. She stepped hesitantly into the room and twirled, wanting to see every inch of the place. Crane looked on from the door, his lips spread into a smile. 

“I’m glad you like it,” he laughed and she ran into his arms, smiling. 

“I love it! I am officially living out one of my dreams.” She pulled down on his collar and kissed him. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and kissed him deeper, her fingers now brushing across the soft skin on his neck. Crane sighed through his nose and found her waist, resting his hands on the indents of her hips. The excitement of the day prompted a sense of adventure and need inside her and she communicated that through her kiss. She bit playfully on Crane’s bottom lip and moaned (intentionally) against him to fluster him. She felt his body shutter from the suggestive sounds she made against him. Her cunt throbbed wantingly and she could feel her heartbeat in her upper thighs. 

“Mhm!” She hummed and caught her breath as Crane’s hands slipped to the base of her back. 

“You never get tired, do you?” He muttered against her huskily and she shook her head. 

“No, Dr. Crane.” She whispered with a soft whine and licked his bottom lip before kissing him harder. She felt his cock twitch on his pants as he pressed himself against her. 

“Good, because neither do I,” he bit the point of her jaw gently and kissed over the hickies he had already made on her neck the night before. He looked all rumpled and hot in his suit after the action of the day and she desperately wanted to undress him. She wanted to fuck him like a normal couple, not tied down to a mortuary slab where she couldn’t even touch him. God, she wanted to touch him. She dragged one hand down to his crotch and cupped his cock through his pants. She rubbed her hand against the half-hard bulge and moaned pitifully as if she were the one getting touched. 

“You’re pathetic,” Crane smirked and pulled her head back gently by her hair. She nodded with a pleased smile, happy that he saw her for what she really was and what she really wanted. He kissed her hard, taking her breath away, and sucked on her tongue so deep she felt like she might choke. When he pulled away and dropped his hold on her neck, his lips were pink and his eyes heavy with lust. She knew her face was flushed and that it turned him on but instead of acting on it, Crane leaned back against the door jam and jerked his head at the bed. 

“Hobbs laid out some clothes for you. I hope they fit, I went through your closet to find your size but I trusted Hobbs and his wife with the shopping.” He smirked, proud of himself for leaving the girl so horny, it made him even harder. He left the room and closed the door, his erection still pressing against his pants. 

ii 

She went down the stairs and looked around for the dining room, turning her curious head left and right. The clothes that had been laid out for her were simple and elegant. A long black dress with a boat neck that she wore with the burgundy stockings set beside it. She’d worn her black mary janes and run a brush through her hair, knowing that would be enough to help her look put together. She followed the sound of a crackling fire and polite conversation through a far door. Crane looked up as she entered and looked her up and down, his eyes sticky against her curves. 

“What do you think?” She gestured to her dress and gave a slow twirl. The butler and his wife stood to the side, watching her with small, pleased smiles. Crane leaned forward, resting his elbows on the white tablecloth. 

“Apparently, my housekeepers have extraordinary taste.” He smirked and stood as she walked to her place at the table on his right. 

“High praise,” she smiled at Hobbs. As they sat together, Hobbs served their dinner of smoked ham. She took a long sip of the gin martini from her glass and swirled the stem with her wrist.

“It’s hard to believe that we were in Gotham just an hour or two ago.” She took in his body dressed in a black suit without his usual tie. His face was clean and he’d refreshed his hair with some gel, the smell was comforting. 

“Tonight could have ended very differently…” he looked at his food. The butler and his wife left the room, going back into the kitchen.

“Thank you for what you said this morning,” she flicked her eyes up to his. He looked back and caught his breath. She looked stunning and he felt the need to pinch himself to remember where they were and how they’d gotten there in the first place. He remembered telling her to do as he said because he wanted her to live and he worried that Ra’s would go back on his word, and as he suspected, Ra’s had, just not with her. 

“I’m just glad that we came to our agreement when we did, before Ra’s. I’ll admit that my desire to keep you alive was more selfish than chivalrous because I needed you for my own reasons.” 

“Like what?” She raised her eyebrow and cut a piece of meat. It melted on her tongue and she swallowed it slowly, watching him. 

“I have plans for Gotham, plans that would involve you,” he cocked his head towards her, adding, “of course. I don’t know yet how Ra’s plans will play out but I suspect that he will fail. Batman will think that he’s saved the city from ‘bad guys’ but,” he leaned in closer, “I’m not so easily defeated and I suspect that we’ll run into each other again.”

“Are you sure that you can trust me with these plans of yours,” she opened herself up to him and stood, looming over Crane in his seat,” these plans that also include me?” She rested her knee on the edge of his seat between his legs, straddling his thigh. Crane looked up at her calmly, unmoved by the position of her knee against his crotch or the heat of her cunt hovering above his thigh. Crane watched her for a moment, letting a heavy silence fall between them before inhaling and shifting his torso closer as if he were going to whisper something to her. 

“Like I told Ra’s,” he started quietly, his eyes dark and harsh at the candlelight table. His hand squeezed the bottom of her thigh above her knee, she gasped quietly, “I’ll make sure that I can trust you…” his hand snaked up the inside of her thigh beneath her dress. He pulled the edge of her stocking away from her thigh and let it snap painfully back against her skin. “Won’t I?” He asked darkly as his forehead creased slightly. She gasped again as his hand found her underwear and stroked her clothed cunt. “Won’t. I?” He sneered and she remembered to nod. “Answer me,” he snapped and brushed his fingers past the crotch of her underwear, spreading the wetness between her legs with the pads of his fingertips. 

“Yes,” she hissed breathlessly, closing her eyes as he rubbed her cunt, creating a dangerous friction. 

“You’re pissing me off, detective.” He growled and roughly began to finger her, shoving two fingers harshly inside. She yelped and looked down at Crane, his eyes flashed. 

“Why, Dr. Crane?” She wrapped her fingers around the base of his neck, her thumb sitting right below his adam's apple. She smiled when his other hand gripped her thigh harder. She moved her hips on his fingers and he watched with interest as she dripped around his fingers. “How can I fix it for you?” She purred against his cheek, moaning softly as he fingered her and teased her clit with his thumb. She began to pant and instinctively moved her thighs together as the pleasure became too much. She squeezed around his fingers and her hands tightened around his throat, about to cum.  

“Behave,” he whispered seriously and removed his fingers before she could finish. She groaned in frustration and held his face between her hands. 

“You’re such a tease, Jonathan.” She scolded him and he smiled. 

“And you’re a horny little slut.” He whispered close to her lips and she shook her head, smiling giddily. 

“I’m just a horny little slut for you.” She ran her tongue across his lips, dragging it up to his nose. She let go of his face and plopped back into her chair, crossing her legs pointedly. Crane rolled his eyes and raised his fingers to his mouth. He sucked her juices from his hand as she watched and then finished his drink, ignoring her when she whined with lust. 

“You’re like a dog,” he rested his elbow on the table, “you think you’ll get what you want if you whine enough.” He delivered the sentence with a knowing look and returned to his food. She didn’t want to admit to herself how much that turned her on. She huffed and tucked her hair behind her ear and finished her martini hungrily. She finally had a moment to glance around the room and when she did, she saw a beautiful fire burning in a stone fireplace. 

“That’s beautiful,” she gestured to the fireplace carved with cherubs. Crane looked and nodded. 

“I think so too. We haven’t had fires in the fireplace since I was a child. You may have noticed that part of the house was destroyed.” 

She nodded.

“That’s because the house almost burned down when I was…” he frowned as he thought, “five or six?” He shrugged and sighed, looking into the blazing fire. “My father never let us use the fireplaces after that. It made for cold winters,” He flicked his eyes up to hers and she shivered. 

“I can imagine,” she thought back to her childhood in the orphanage, freezing at night during any season that wasn’t summer.

“The house will be a lot warmer now,” he said casually and allowed a small smirk to tug at his lips. 

“What happened to ‘behaving ourselves’?” She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow in fake disapproval. Crane chuckled and leaned back in his chair. 

“I have no idea what you mean,” he lied and they went back to eating when Hobbs entered with dessert. 

iii 

It was nearly 2am when they finally climbed the grand staircase to return to their rooms. There was a large common room that separated the two wings of the house on the second floor. The wing to their right was burned and stood empty. 

“Where’s your room?” She furrowed her brow as they walked down the hallway, passing the laundry chute. Crane pointed to a room at the mouth of the hallway, near the top of the stairs. Her’s was at the opposite end of the hallway. She smiled and spun around, facing her side of the hallway. She let him watch her walk away, moving her hips as loosely as she could manage. When she opened her door, she turned slightly and gave him a closed-mouth smile, her eyes teasing him. He crossed his arms and leaned against his door, his expression unreadable. She closed her door and did a few extra happy-spins for good measure. She kicked off her shoes and explored the bathroom, finding herself in a mood for a bath after not showering the night before. She turned on the bath’s faucet and filled the large tub with hot water. As she undressed, she spotted a row of cosmetics set out for her use, and included in the assortment was the shampoo that she used at home. A small part of her found it scary that Crane had obviously gone through her home to find the things she liked but more than that, she felt honored that he had planned his backup plan with her in mind. He’d asked the housekeepers to prepare her a room and stock it with clothes and shampoo, all just in case she came with him. He’d imagined her coming with him, and that nearly made her cry. She slipped into the hot water and scrubbed every inch of her body, trying to remove all of the sweat, dirt, and debris that had stuck to her skin over the past 24 hours. She washed her hair with the mint shampoo as Crane had guessed she used correctly before. The suds ran down her hair and between her shoulder blades as her hands worked the shampoo into her head. She ducked her head beneath the water and watched as her hair floated out around her head. When she came up for air, her hair stuck to her back and she sighed pleasantly. 

The bathroom was cold when she left the security of the hot water so she quickly wrapped herself in a thick towel and brushed her hair. She rubbed lotion into her dry skin and toweled off her hair. The housekeepers had given her numerous sets of pajamas in different styles. She guessed Crane had decided against going through her underwear drawer, what a gentleman. She liked soft lounge pants and t-shirts so she changed into the dark blue set they had provided for her and unmade her bed. The wide windows on the side wall looked out on the field and she could just barely see the outline of the scarecrow. The house itself had a strange and suffocating feel. She wondered what Crane may have endured here, what secrets he hid inside himself. 

She bit the inside of her cheek and found the gun that she’d brought with her from Gotham. She hid the gun behind the headboard of her bed and sat with her knees pressed up to her chest on the mattress. She wrapped her arms around her legs and shivered, goosebumps rose on her legs and she rocked back and forth, resting her head on her knee like a child. Should she feel guilty for betraying her precinct? Should she worry about Sgt. Gordon and Gotham itself? What had Gotham given her? How had it protected her? She felt torn between a route of righteousness and one of passion. Crane offered her a path to her own future set outside the laws of society where she could create her own identity. She didn’t want to be the good girl cop anymore, she wanted to be everything else and she wanted Crane. 

Crane was testing her. He wanted to see how badly she actually wanted him, how much she would fight to be with him. He needed her to be obsessed, foaming at the mouth at the thought of him. Maybe he was psychotic, sure (he was). His father certainly was and it usually runs in families. Crane’s manic obsession was her and he needed her, but before he could trust her, he had to be sure that she was totally and completely loyal to him. He knew she had her gun and he assumed she’d suffered more internal dialogue since escaping Gotham (he was a psychiatrist, so of course he knew these things). If he pushed her away would she cling to him more or feel the need to betray him? He had to admit that this test was grueling for him too. He didn’t think that he was capable of love or real attraction, he was a psychopath, literally. He’d studied himself as much as he had the subjects in his textbooks in school and he checked all the boxes but this- this- was a new development that he didn’t quite understand. It almost made him angry when he thought of the power she could wield over him if he got too close. She’d spoken so much of trust and he wanted to trust her. He did. But he’d trusted Ra’s, he’d trusted his father and at one point in his life he’d trusted Sgt. Gordon. Those relationships had not ended well. Then this prissy young detective comes along and confronts him with feelings he didn’t think he could have. That was why she was the subject of his fear toxin reaction. She’d found a way to matter to him and losing her had already become his worst fear. He wanted… oh god there were so many things that he wanted from her. He hoped that it wouldn’t take much longer because he was starting to lose patience. 

She stared at the ceiling above her bed and tried to touch herself. She didn’t have her vibrator and Crane had made a point of pushing her away, so she was left to rough it out with her hands. She hadn’t been stuck with just her bare hands since college. Her vibrator had obviously spoiled her and she felt nowhere near as much pleasure without it, though Crane had come extremely close the night before. She dug her heels into the mattress and bit her lip, concentrating as hard as she could on Crane. She remembered the way he spoke to her as he fucked her, how calm and direct he’d been with her body. They both had needs and desires and he hadn’t let insecurities or formalities stand in the way. Her body was craving a release that she’d teased it with twice already that day and she couldn’t fall asleep without trying to appease it. After ten minutes of heavy breathing and a sore arm she collapsed in frustration across her bed. She desperately wanted him and nothing was going to cut it unless it was him inside her. Something- anything. She groaned into her hands and kicked the blankets off of her. 

The door handle creaked and Crane shifted in his half-sleep haze. The bed moved around him and he was startled awake by the girl, straddling his hips. He kept a smile from his lips as he looked up at her. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He got out before her hand clamped around his mouth. She shushed him. 

“Listen here, Crane. Since we have an understanding,” she used his word for their relationship, “I’ll tell it to you straight. I want you. I need you. I have very few needs because I’m a simple girl, but right now, you’re one of them. I’ll ask you nicely and if you humor me, I won’t cause trouble.”

“Trouble?” His voice was muffled against her hand as he raised his eyebrow. 

“I have a whole round of trouble tucked away behind my headboard.” 

“Nice threat. So, you what? Want to rape me?” He propped himself up on his elbows. 

She hooked her finger around the collar of his black t-shirt and sighed. 

“You have such a dirty mind. Why do you have to make it sound so perverted?” She held his chin tightly in her hand and dragged her other hand down his chest stopping at the waistband of his pants. 

“That’s what it is, detective.” He cocked his head to the side and rested it on his shoulder. “Are you really going to do that to me?” 

“Says the man that strapped me to a slab and drugged me three times,” she held up three fingers to stress her point and shifted her hips on his crotch. 

“We both have problems, what do you want me to say?” 

“That you’ll fuck me,” she started to grind her hips and he withheld his sinful exhale. 

“Oh?” He said instead, “what if I’m too tired? Fucking is hard work.”

“Then let me do it,” she shrugged with a smile, “I’ll make us both feel good.” Crane raised a skeptical eyebrow and smirked. 

“You really didn’t get enough at dinner did you?” He teased and she shook her head. 

“You have no idea.”

He watched her rub herself against him and then slowly allowed his eyes to meet hers. She moaned just looking into his eyes and he laughed. 

“Ok, let’s see how you do.” He allowed her casually and watched as she bounced happily on his lap and scooted down to his knees. She pulled down the blanket and worked her hands below his waistband. He was already hard and she scoffed, pissed that he hadn’t admitted how turned on he was too. He smirked as she pulled his cock out of his pants and rolled her tongue around the tip. When she took him in her mouth he sighed softly, his mouth open as he watched her give him head. She swirled her tongue around his length and she bobbed her head up and down. She sucked and dragged her mouth slowly over him until he bucked softly into her mouth. She felt her stomach get hot with excitement and she worked harder, humming against him as she took him deeper. Crane clenched his fists and groaned. She pulled her mouth to the top of his cock and sucked hard, teasing his climax which she could tell was fast approaching. His forehead was creased and he squeezed his eyes shut, allowing his head to fall back with a low gasp. 

“Fuck alright, that’s enough,” He sat up again and smirked, “get what you want out of me.” He panted and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. She licked her lips and crawled off the bed. Crane watched her as she stepped out of her bottoms and straddled him once more, naked from the waist down. His erection rested against her stomach and he swallowed, staring at her bare cunt. 

“I hope you like what you see,” she whispered and removed her top. Her breasts shifted slightly against her skin as she moved and her hair fell around her in a sultry mess. “Because it all belongs to you now,” she pressed her hands against his stomach for balance and leaned closer. “But this,” she looked him up and down, landing on his beautiful eyes and smiling, “this belongs to me.” 

“Silly girl,” he barely shook his head as his eyes trained on her, “I don’t belong to anyone.” 

“We’ll see about that,” she shrugged and bit her lip as she lowered herself onto his cock. She whined in relief and moved her hips slowly. She was so wet he could her himself move inside of her as she fucked him. Crane’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he released a tight breath. 

“Fuuuuck…” he hissed and she squeezed around him, nearly orgasming just by hearing the pleasure in his voice. She panted breathlessly as she started to move up and down, her hands balanced on his navel where there was a thin dusting of hair. He thrusted up involuntarily and they both moaned. She sped up slightly, moving her hips back and forth. Crane’s hands found the fleshy handles of her hips and dug his fingers into her skin. He had laid back completely making it so that he had to raise his head when he wanted to watch how she snapped down on him. She let her head fall back and moaned loudly as his cock hit the right place each time. The pleasure was so good between her legs that her release felt like the desire to pee. When her climax snapped, her eyes rolled back and she gasped, riding it out and enjoying the pressure of him inside her as it carried her through the high. Her climax triggered his as he felt her cum around her. 

“You’re going to cum inside me,” she panted and whimpered through the sensations. 

“Is that an order?” He gritted out, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips. He was trying to hold off his orgasm but as she nodded and squeezed him again, he let himself cum inside her with a loud groan. She sat for a second longer as he finished and finally moved off. She cleaned him off, sucking his swollen cock and swallowing all of the excess cum and discharge that had collected along his length. He covered his face with his hands as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are you going to leave it in?” He asked in a deep, tired voice. 

“Your cum?” 

“Yes, are you going to leave it in you?” He removed his hands and watched as she crawled up the bed to sit beside him. 

“Do you want me to?” She let her hair fall around them and he twirled the end of one of the pieces. 

He thought for a moment before nodding his head, “yes.” She curled up beside him and draped her leg between his. He exhaled slowly and wrapped his arm around the back of her head, resting his hand on her shoulder. She rubbed her nose against his chest, breathing in the clean smell of his t-shirt. Crane closed his eyes and waited as her breathing became more regular and slow. She started to fall asleep, her hand clasped against his ribs. When she was asleep, he propped himself up on one arm and watched her. Words couldn’t describe how good that was, what she did for him. It was better than their first time when the roles had been reversed. He liked that she could touch him and explore him with a needily innocence like a horny teenager. Crane thought about his cum still sitting inside her, collecting around her inner-thighs. He kissed her as she slept deeply, licking the salty taste from her lips and swallowing. She made a noise in her sleep and he drew his hand around her perfect breast, admiring her body in the dull glow of the moon. Gotham would be no match for them once they were united. No one could stop them, not even themselves. Once they started they could never stop, they had to take everything from each other. His head fell back into his pillow and he kissed the curve of her throat before allowing himself to fall asleep beside her. He’d never slept with a woman after sex. She was the first. 

iv 

They woke up late in the morning and dressed warmly, both wearing sweaters and long pants. Crane had traded in his suit for more casual wear though his attire was always oozing with old money aesthetic. After a breakfast of eggs benedict and black coffee, Crane asked if she wanted to see the house. 

“Of course,” she smiled and nodded excitedly. There were some questions she still had for Crane and she had her own list of theories and thoughts that the house inspired inside her. She worried what the house would reveal and more importantly, what it may say about Crane. She wondered if he had lived a childhood similar to hers, one of trauma and violence, even if he had lived in a huge mansion with every monetary item he could ever desire. 

They started outside the house, walking the grounds. The exterior of the house was set in elaborate stone carvings. The roofs were made of dark terracotta, framing widow peaks at the top of many of the towers. Crane watched her reaction as they rounded to the side of the house with the destroyed wing, still black from the burning. She could even still smell the charcoal made from the house’s old paneling. 

“Your father never rebuilt it?” She asked, curious. Crane studied the crumbling structure and shook his head.

“No, he died before making plans for a renovation.” She looked at him quickly and met his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” 

“But you understand.” 

She nodded slowly, “I was an orphan, I never knew my parents.” 

“So was I.” He clenched his jaw and looked down at the ground. 

“Your mother?” She asked hesitantly. 

“She died, here, in this wing.” He pointed to the second floor of the burned wing. “That was her room.” 

“You were young then too,” she remembered and he nodded. “Do you remember your mother?” 

“Some things but nothing that brings me much comfort. I remember how she died and I remember how my father mourned her.” 

“So she died in the fire?”

“Yes,” he nodded and folded his arms across his chest, “she was trapped inside after the fire started. They weren’t able to save her. My father was never the same after that.”

“When did your father die?” 

“Before I went to college…” he trailed off and they stood in silence for a moment. “He was a chemist, you know.” 

“No, I didn’t know. Did he teach you?”

Crane chuckled darkly, “I guess you could say that. He used me for his experiments.” He scowled. What he had said back in Arkham came back to her mind and she risked asking more. 

“Jonathan?” She started. 

“Yes?” He asked, his voice hard and protective like a layer of ice. 

“What did he do to you?” 

Crane swallowed and turned away from the house, forcing her to hurry behind him to keep up. His hair was tousled by the wind as he walked through the icy field. As the slope curved downwards, he finally started to speak. 

“He was the one who first came up with the idea for the fear serum. After my mother’s death he became obsessed with it and started to test it on himself like a lunatic. It messed with his head and made him relive my mother’s death over and over again until he finally had to stop and find a new subject. His new subject became me.” He darted his eyes angrily around the ground as he spoke, spit flying from his lips. “He would give me the toxin and at the time, it was 10x more dangerous. He used me to gauge the body’s reactions to fear and kept track of what the brain imagined during that state of panic. He wanted to create a cure for fear, a way to remove the body’s reaction to it. At some point he made a breakthrough in the case using people he’d kidnapped and found a way to remove a person’s ability to be afraid. He used it on himself and after that, his natural instincts became mute. When I was sixteen he brought me here,” he stopped suddenly and she looked as he gestured at the scarecrow hanging from its perch, “and he administered the drug one last time.”

“What happened?” She whispered, her blood going cold. 

“I overdosed on the serum and hallucinated that the scarecrow was alive but the fear I felt was multiplied from the large dose of toxin. Your old boss, Sgt Gordon, found us out here having come to arrest my father for kidnapping and murder. Because my father no longer feared anything, he charged Gordon and Gordon shot him. He died where we’re standing… and I watched it. I watched it all happen.” He stared at the scarecrow, his face set. He didn’t show any emotion as he recounted his father’s death, his own trauma. 

“What did Gordon do?” She stepped closer but left him a small circle of space, a safety net. 

“He took me to the hospital and once I recovered, they brought me back here.”

“You were so young,” she whispered sadly, wanting to cry for him. 

“So were you, weren’t you, when you were left at the doors of Gotham’s orphanage?” She nodded. 

“I was a baby.” She hugged herself and stared down at the ground beneath them.

“That’s why I think we’re so similar. We raised ourselves- you and I.” He smirked, “it would explain our similar psychology.” 

“The fact that we’re both deeply disturbed? Sure, I’ll give you that,” she laughed lightly, her nose burned in the cold air. 

“Mm… deeply disturbed,” Crane sounded out the words with a soft hiss. 

“Psychotic?” She offered. 

“Psychopathic.” 

“Deranged.” 

“That’s not a medical diagnosis I’m familiar with,” he looked down at her, taking in the profile of her ruddy cheeks blistering in the wind. 

‘But not far off is it?” She smiled and looped her fingers in the front of his sweater, her hands brushing the hard muscle beneath. 

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I’ll have to conduct more thorough examinations.. I’d kill to have a look inside your head.” His fingers traced her hairline and pulled gently on her hair.  

“I have a few ideas for other places you could examine,” she teased and he smirked, coming back from his temporary emotional lag. 

“Intriguing offer, detective.”

“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” she returned his smirk and pulled him away from the scarecrow. He followed her. “Why did you choose the scarecrow as your alias?” she brought the conversation back and his forehead creased again as he thought. 

“I was forced to face my fear and after I returned here with just Hobbs and his wife to keep me company. I decided to take back the power that the scarecrow took away from me that day. Embracing my fear made me stronger, more powerful,” He answered seriously and she nodded. 

“Why did you improve your father’s fear toxin if you knew what it was capable of?” She asked quietly, watching for his reaction. 

“I made it because I knew what it was capable of. People like us have suffered, we’ve been wronged, we’ve been abandoned and ignored. There are people in this world who have the privilege of never being afraid because they have nothing to fear. I made it originally to use on the city’s elite, the people who think they’re better than me because they think they’re wealthier than I am, smarter than I am. Ra’s distracted me from my plan and I know now that I was right from the very beginning, Batman and his like need to be dethroned. We can be the ones to do it.” 

She looked into his eyes and kissed him, drawing his face down to hers by the rough collar of his sweater. His lips were dry from the wind. When she pulled away he held her face between his hands and looked at her seriously, his nostrils flared. 

“Do you still trust me after everything I just told you? Do you still want to be with me?” He asked her calmly, a dark glint in his eye. She dropped her head to the side and he caught it easily in his palm. 

“Yes, yes.” She nodded. 

They walked in silence, their hands brushing against each other and their hair blowing in the short gusts of wind. 

v 

“There’s still something you should know,” Crane began as they crossed through the door into the grand entry hall. 

“Like how you learned to ride a horse?” She joked but Crane didn’t smile. His face was hard again as it had been before. Her smile faded slowly and she felt her heart shutter and drop. “What?” She whispered and Crane left without another word, so she followed him hesitantly. He led her down into the basement, taking a stone staircase hidden behind a wall panel that also served as a door. Their steps echoed in the small space, electric sconces burned along the creepy passage. Finally Crane stopped at the door at the bottom of the stairs. The door was made of solid steel and Crane had to enter a passcode to open it. 

“Through here,” he guided her through the door and closed it behind them. The room was large and cave-like, lined with bookshelves and lab equipment. She gave an appreciative gasp, taking in the room that served as Crane’s office and private lab. “This was my father’s lab and when he died, it became mine.” He walked around to his desk and rummaged through one of the bottom drawers, removing a few small folders and placing them on his desk. He rested his knuckles on the cherry wood surface and sighed, finally meeting her eyes since they got back to the house. 

“Back to our topic of trust, I should tell you that I did a little snooping, if you will, into your past when we first started crossing paths. I wanted to know who I was dealing with, which is why I did this and now that we’ve ended up here together, I feel that it’s only right,” the word tasted bitter on his tongue, “to show you what I found. I’ve always told you that we’re alike, that we understand each other but I’ve never explained why. This is why I know we’re alike, Y/N.” He opened the front flap of each folder and pushed them down to the front of the desk. “You should know what happened to you as a child, the things they never told you at the orphanage.” He waited as she swallowed and looked between the papers and Crane. 

“What do you mean?” She whispered, “the things that happened to me?” 

“How the Wayne family ruined both of our lives.” His voice was slow and dark like syrup and it took her a few seconds to process what he was saying, what he was implying. She looked down at the folders again and took a step closer. When she reached his desk, she scanned the documents with blurred vision. “What… what do they say?” She rubbed her eyes and stepped away. Crane took the first folder, his jaw clenched. 

“Y/L/N, Y/N was born into the Arkham family, the founders of Arkham Asylum. Her parents were known to have had numerous disagreements with the Wayne family over the inappropriate use of the criminal justice system by moving people whom the Waynes didn’t like into the asylum. The Arkhams did not believe that the Waynes should have had the right to imprison their political enemies and opponents and tried to inform the public. The message to the press and other government officials was intercepted by the Wayne administration and destroyed, though one draft of the letter was salvaged from the Arkham’s trash and archived in the police station, it was never investigated. The Arkhams, both in their early 30s, were found dead a week later in their home. With no other living relatives, the baby, named Matilda Y/N Arkham by her parents, was discreetly handed over to Gotham orphanage by people closely connected to Wayne following the murder.” He paused, his eyes flicking up. She had gone white and her hand was clamped around one of the shelves on a nearby bookshelf. She looked up at him when he stopped and tried to speak but nothing came. He still waited, giving her time to speak but when she didn’t, he continued. 

“My private investigator found this from government records, including records still housed in Gotham orphanage. They knew this whole time and never informed you even after you became a legal adult. They never investigated your parents’ death and Thomas Wayne, the father of Gotham’s famous playboy, Bryce Wayne, never paid for his actions. He continued to imprison his enemies and without your parents there to run the asylum, it fell into its current state. Nothing I could have done with Arkham would have ever salvaged it after what Wayne’s administration did. So, you see now why I said that we were alike in so many ways. The Wayne’s have too much power even now and someone needs to do something about it.” Crane sighed and walked back to the front of his desk and leaned against it, his eyes lowered to the ground. She inhaled deeply. 

“You said something about Wayne ruining both of our lives. What did he do to you?” She asked him, her face red from stress and emotion. 

“He killed my mother,” he answered evenly and they met each others’ eyes. Her questioning eyes prompted Crane to explain. “He visited my mother whom he’d been seeing for a few months. She wanted to end things because she had me and I was getting older, and her marriage was starting to improve; she no longer wanted to be his mistress. He got angry and locked her inside her bedroom and then he lit a fire, right outside her room. He left before anyone realized what had happened. They found the key in her bedroom door, still inside the lock, locking the door from the outside. They knew that something had happened and the people in the police department knew the rumors, the secret love affair between Mrs. Crane and Mr. Wayne. There was a whole case but the police commissioner closed it and it was never solved. My father was a good man before that day, my mother’s murder drove him insane. For years it led him to do things that he shouldn’t have done. Wayne had a hand in my fate too, setting up my parents’ demise. I would have ended up alongside you at Gotham’s orphanage if Hobbs and his wife didn’t agree to look after me for those last two years before I was old enough to be my own guardian. Thomas Wayne died when I was eleven and yet, he still managed to kill my father from the grave. So, we’re connected by a chain of discord welded together by the Wayne family.”

“Yes…” he whispered and sank down into a dusty armchair. “So my real name is Matilda Arkham?” 

“Technically speaking, yes.” 

“And so that means Arkham Asylum also belongs to me?” 

Crane smiled with his wide lips closed, “technically.”  

Realization clicked in and she couldn’t help but laugh. She covered her mouth with her palms and laughed hysterically. Crane smiled down at his feet and scratched the side of his face. Though she suddenly realized that her entire life had been a lie, she laughed because now, everything made sense. And by some disturbed twist of fate, she and Crane had been bound to be together all because of Thomas Wayne. She pulled herself from the chair and looked at the family picture included in one of the folders. Crane leaned over her shoulder, breathing calmly against her neck. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she studied the picture. Lying in the arms of a woman with strawberry blonde hair, was her. Her father held her foot in between his fingers, smiling down at her with brown eyes. She’d seen their portrait in passing in the asylum and yet she’d never placed why they managed to look so… familiar. They’d been celebrated psychiatrists in their time. She looked at Crane, still leaning against the desk beside her, his blue eyes were trained on her face. So that’s why she had a thing for psychiatrists, she realized. 

“Are you ready to hear my plan now,” he asked her with a smirk, “... Miss Arkham?” 

[nocturnest]

Omg now imagine Y/n seeing his picture in the newspaper after he testifies his medical expertise for a trial (definitely to get more thugs into his grasp to experiment on at Arkham 😅) and she’s like “It’s him!!” After recognizing that he’s the man who saved her from her ex, and for reasons she herself can’t explain, she finds herself nervously walking into Arkham to thank her savior, lightly knocking on his office door and he probably answers roughly at first, but the minute he sees that it’s her, he softens in a way that he himself is shocked at🥹 He is extremely thrilled that she came to visit him but he would also be fascinated because she had witnessed him use his fear gas, and it was probably very clear in her mind that he is probably connected to the things she has been hearing about in the news with “The Scarecrow”, so he’s also surprised to see her willingly standing in front of him😯 (There are 100% feelings growing hehe)

@kpopgirlbtssvt OHO there's feelings alright! you keep on coming up with such AMAZING ideas! YES YES AND YES! i hope he's not too ooc in this - i just wanted to portray his softer side because i don't think we see enough of that in fics! sometimes he and the reader just need comfort. please enjoy!

It's him.

You were flipping through the pages of the Gotham Gazette haphazardly, your eyes widening when they landed on a familiar face. Right there was a photo of the mysterious man who had saved you from your ex, and now you finally knew his name: Jonathan Crane. The headline touted his testimony in a high-profile trial, emphasizing his expertise in psychology and his pivotal role in the proceedings.

Your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. Jonathan Crane—the man who had intervened when you needed help the most, the man whose actions had left you both grateful and curious. As you read further into the article, you learned more about his background, his accomplishments, and where he worked: Arkham Asylum.

Some of the sources in the article were members of the DA's Office, a Rachel Dawes being quoted as finding Crane's opinions on the mental state of many members of criminal syndicates "questionable" and "extremely convenient."

Your mind was slowly making connections about Jonathan's connection to Arkham Asylum and the rumors surrounding The Scarecrow, a figure well-known in Gotham City for spreading his fea toxin on his victims.

It's him.

You should have been scared, terrified even. You should have simply remained content with keeping your life and your sanity after your encounter with him. But you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude toward Jonathan. Even if he was this Scarecrow, there was obviously more to the man. The way he had shown you such care even though you were merely a stranger. You wanted to get to know him, and it had nothing to do with the fact that you couldn't stop thinking about the shade of his eyes and his brown locks that you wanted to graze your hands through. No, not at all.

With a mix of determination and trepidation, you made a decision—to thank your mysterious savior in person.

~

With each step towards Arkham Asylum, your heart pounded in your chest. What if he didn't remember you? Would he even want to see you? Were you imposing by showing up to his work? The large building loomed before you, casting a shadow over your surroundings. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you made your way along the path to the front gates.

As you approached the imposing gates of the asylum, a knot formed in your stomach. Security guards stood sentinel, their expressions stern and unwavering. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were making the right decision by coming here.

Summoning your courage, you stepped forward, your hands clammy with nerves. "Excuse me," you said tentatively, addressing one of the guards. "I'm here to see Jonathan Crane."

The guard regarded you with a scrutinous gaze, his expression unreadable. After a moment of silence, he reached for a clipboard, scanning the list of names. "And you are?" he asked, his tone brusque.

You gave your name, hoping that somehow Jonathan had not erased your existence from his memory.

The guard's eyes flicked down to the clipboard once more, and then back up to you. "Ah, yes," he said, his tone surprisingly casual. "You're on the list. You can go inside."

Relief washed over you as you realized that Jonathan had, in fact, remembered you—or at least deemed you worthy of access to the asylum. But as you made your way past the gates and into the dimly lit corridors beyond, you couldn't help but wonder about the implications of your presence here.

Perhaps Jonathan had put your name down out of courtesy, or maybe he truly did want to see you again. Either way, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this encounter than met the eye. And as you ventured deeper into the heart of Arkham Asylum, you resolved to uncover the truth behind Jonathan Crane's enigmatic presence in your life.

~

It took some asking around from some stern nurses, but you had made it. Nervously, you approached Jonathan's office, your hand trembling as you raised it to knock on the door.

"Come in."

Jonathan's voice echoed from his office. You had forgotten how much you enjoyed hearing his voice. He had this calming effect around him.

You padded tentatively into the office, your hands restless with anxiety.

The office was a nice change from the bland halls of the asylum. There were bookshelves behind a desk filled with texts on psychology, fear, and the like. Your eyes grazed over a title that read A Comprehensive History of Phobias.

And there Jonathan was, again in the same suit and tie as when you saw him last but pristine as ever. He hadn't bothered to look up yet, and his expression remained stern, his eyes scanning over what were likely medical reports.

His gaze was sharp as he looked up towards you. But then, as his eyes met yours and recognition dawned, something shifted in Jonathan's demeanor. His features softened, a hint of warmth creeping into his gaze. If you had looked close enough, you might have even been able to detect a light blush across his face.

He said your name softly, and it rolled off his tongue with unexpected familiarity, "What brings you here?"

He stood and beckoned you to sit with a wave of his hand.

You swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his penetrating gaze. "I, um...saw you in the newspaper," you began, your voice wavering slightly. "I just wanted to thank you for helping me that night."

Jonathan's expression softened further, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It was my pleasure," he replied, his voice warm with sincerity. "And I'm glad to see you're doing well." He stumbles through his words, "At least I hope you are. Are you?"

You smile, "I am."

As you stood there, facing each other in the dimly lit office, a palpable tension hung in the air. You couldn't deny the inexplicable pull you felt towards Jonathan, regardless of the potential of him indeed being The Scarecrow.

"I have a question though."

"Yes, my dear?"

You look over your shoulder before whispering, "Is it true? Are you...The Scarecrow?"

He stilled, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. For a moment, the air in the room seemed to grow heavy with the weight of unspoken truths, and Jonathan suddenly felt much more imposing. You couldn't tell if you liked it or not.

Finally, Jonathan spoke, his voice low and measured, "And if I were?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to process his response. The rumors, the whispers—they had all led you to this moment, standing face to face with the enigmatic figure before you. But now that the truth hung in the air between you, you couldn't help but feel a surge of fear mingled with a strange sense of fascination.

"Well, I suppose that would be okay," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. Despite the gravity of the situation, you couldn't help but feel a strange sense of acceptance wash over you.

Jonathan's eyes widen and he makes a poor attempt to conceal his surprise. His expression softens and a hint of relief flickers in his eyes.

"Thank you," he said sincerely, his voice barely audible above the quiet hum of the room.

As the tension in the air began to ease, Jonathan cleared his throat, his gaze flickering towards the window where the fading light of dusk filtered through the blinds. He looked hesitant, contemplative. "My work day is over," he said, his tone casual yet tinged with anticipation. "Would you...care to join me for coffee?"

You blinked in surprise, caught off guard by the sudden invitation. But as you met Jonathan's gaze, a spark of curiosity ignited within you. Despite the mysteries surrounding him, there was something undeniably intriguing about Jonathan Crane, something that drew you to him like a moth to a flame.

"I would like that," you replied, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

Jonathan returned your smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Excellent," he said, his voice laced with a newfound warmth.

"Shall we?"

You take his hand into yours and give him a shy smile, "We shall."

Jonathan's hand enveloped yours, his touch gentle yet firm. With a shared smile, the two of you stepped out of his office, leaving the weight of unspoken truths behind.

~

As you entered the café off of 17th street, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you, accompanied by the gentle hum of chatter from other patrons. Jonathan led you to a table by the window, where sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the scene.

You were seated across from each other, each with a coffee in hand.

Jonathan took a sip of his coffee before leaning in with a smile. "So, tell me about yourself. What are you studying at Gotham University?"

You stirred your own coffee nervously, then met his gaze. "I'm studying psychology, funnily enough. It's always fascinated me, understanding how the mind works and how we perceive the world around us."

Jonathan's eyes lit up with interest. "Ah, psychology. I know a thing or two about that."

You giggle and he smiles back almost mischievously in response.

His face lights up as he continues, "I have a particular interest in phobias myself. The way fear manifests in the human psyche is truly fascinating."

You nodded, intrigued. "That's interesting. I've always been more drawn to brain chemistry and medications, though. I'm curious about the physiological aspects of fear."

Jonathan leaned back, taking another sip of his coffee. "Different approaches, but equally valid. It's the beauty of the field, isn't it? So many perspectives to explore."

As the conversation continued, you found yourselves discussing your shared love for reading. Jonathan enjoys older works whereas you enjoy a mixture of book classic Gothic literature and newer psychological thrillers. He has quite an affinity for works by Edgar Allan Poe.

Beautiful, intelligent, and well-read?!

You find yourself quickly falling for this man. You both talk about everything and nothing. And you may or may not find yourself sometimes staring at Jonathan's lips for too long, wondering if you could get to know this man in other ways as well.

As you speak with him, the hours melt away and afternoon quickly turns into evening.

~

There's a cold chill in the air as you walk alongside Jonathan. It begins to snow gently and you start to wish you had brought a heavier jacket with you.

Jonathan's utterly sweet yet insistent when he insists on walking you home from the café. You don't even attempt to dissuade him from it because you find that you don't want to leave his company just yet.

Snowflakes began to drift lazily from the sky, settling on the ground and catching in Jonathan's hair. His brown locks, illuminated by the soft glow of the streetlights, appeared almost black, but you could discern the true color beneath.

He speaks passionately, gesturing with one hand while the other grasps your own firmly. It seems almost natural to him, to be so close to you.

"The snow is quite beautiful, isn't it?" Jonathan remarked, glancing up at the swirling flakes. "There's something serene about it."

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's peaceful. Makes the city feel quieter somehow."

Jonathan chuckled softly. "Yes, exactly. It's like the snow has a way of muffling the noise of the world, if only for a moment."

As you continued walking, Jonathan's cheeks reddened with the cold, adding a rosy hue to his features. Yet his enthusiasm seemed to ward off the chill.

"I hope you don't mind me insisting on walking you home," Jonathan said, his tone earnest. "I just couldn't let you brave the cold alone."

You squeezed his hand gently, grateful for his thoughtfulness. "I don't mind at all. In fact, I'm glad you're here."

With each step, the distance between the café and your home seemed to shrink, yet you wished the journey could last forever. There was something undeniably comforting about being in Jonathan's company, something that made you reluctant to part ways.

As the snow continued to fall gently around you, you found yourselves engaged in conversation, sharing stories and laughter in the midst of the wintry night. And as you reached your doorstep, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected companionship that had brightened your day.

"Thank you for walking me home," you said, turning to face Jonathan with a smile.

"It was my pleasure," Jonathan replied, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "But I must confess, I'd much rather stay here with you."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, the warmth in his eyes sending a rush of butterflies through your stomach. Without hesitation, you leaned in closer, your breath mingling with his in the crisp winter air.

"Then stay," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a tender smile, Jonathan closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. In that moment, beneath the softly falling snow, you knew that you had found something truly special—a love that had blossomed unexpectedly, yet felt destined from the start.

@kiss-me-cill-me Hope you enjoy this as well!

[batmanie]

Playing doctor - Scriddler ff

The two tons of metal fell down from the ceiling and crashed to the ground with powerful impact, shattering a nearby riddlerbot into tiny pieces and lifting a cloud of dust into the air.

Riddler viewed this scene seemingly unfazed, completely ignoring the fact that the heavy panel landed a mere three feet from him. If anything, Edward looked irritated.

"You useless piece of electronics, can't you be more careful when handling my machinery," he yelled at the other robot that was working on the hydraulic arm that was supposed to hold the pressure plate in place.

The riddlerbot turned its metal head to its master and blinked its green vision-diodes at him, but it didn't answer, of course, and Scarecrow doubted it was capable of understanding a thing.

Much like its creator…

"It could have been you, you know," the hooded man nodded his head at the smashed riddlerbot, now invisible under the heavy panel.

A loose screw from the wreck rolled across the uneven flooring and right in Riddler's direction, stopping at the tip of his boot. Edward kicked it aside, disgusted.

"Do NOT patronize me, Crane. I'm perfectly capable of keeping this place a safe work environment for myself, thank you!" He put his gloved hands into his pockets, now slightly offended, and not caring to look at his interlocutor at all.

Scarecrow would have sighed at this, if he had more fucks to give. "Are you sure about that?"

"What are you implying?"

"I think, you're not careful enough, Edward."

As gentle as Scarecrow wished to put that, it still must have felt like a punch in the guts for Riddler's giant ego. The man in green clenched his jaw, his shoulders tensed, and his arms trembled slightly. As he turned to grace Crane with a furious glare, Jonathan already knew he was walking on thin ice.

"Are you saying my work is sloppy?" Lips pursed, and with the corner of his mouth contorted by an angry grimace, Edward stepped forward, moving dangerously close to Scarecrow, his index finger ready to jab at him with an unnecessary force. "Do you, by any chance, accuse me of being unqualified to do what I'm doing? Are you doubting my skills? MY skills!" The finger was there already, jabbing at Jonathan's chest. "And what gave You, of all people, the right to judge my competence, doctor? Do you think you're better than me? What possibly made you assume I'm not…" The jab "Being..." Another jab. "CAREFUL!"

Before the last jab could ever come, Scarecrow caught Riddler's hand with his own. Edward pulled away, or at least he tried to, but Jonathan's grip was a force to be reckoned with.

"Perhaps, my way of wording it was a little misleading." His voice was as calm as possible, not betraying any of the amusement that sure was there, watching Riddler struggle to get his hand free. "It has nothing to do with your formidable skills. I just thought," He pulled at Edward's arm, pulling the man with it, forcing him to press his body against Scarecrow's toxin vials. "It would be a shame if you lose those skillful fingers of yours in some freak accident," he finished with a soft whisper, aimed for Riddler's ear.

Said ear got a little redder at this comment, and so did Edward's neck, and cheeks.

Scarecrow's grip lightened but Riddler stopped struggling with him anyway. He even allowed a moment of silence between them, wordlessly watching Jonathan.

After a short pause, Scarecrow let the other go, and Edward moved away from him, looking partially confused, and partially flustered, as if he had expected something more to happen.

"Well, that's very thoughtful of you, Crane. But I'm careful, really."

This sounded silly, especially after what had happened to his robot just a moment earlier.

"You have burn marks all over your right forearm," Jon stated flatly, his eyes still searching Riddler's face for a reaction.

Edward shrugged. "I had a little quarrel... with my computer's transistor... But hey, you should have seen the 'other guy'," He let out a short, neurotic laugh, his attempted joke clearly a defense mechanism to brush the whole thing off. A method that didn't work with a qualified psychologist like Doctor Jonathan Crane.

"There is a band-aid on your neck," Scarecrow tried to make his point yet again, and yet again it failed.

"Merely a scratch from shaving."

"You're not shaved."

"What is this!?" Edward snapped. "An interrogation?"

"I'm simply worried about your well-being. Care to tell me where you got the cut above your left temple from?" He reached to touch Edward's fresh scar, but the man jumped away from him, as if Crane's hand was a white-hot iron.

"That's none of your business," Nigma barked back at him like an angry dog, obviously protecting himself from the painful facts. "A spring might have snapped and scratched my forehead," he added, apparently compelled to answer the truth.

"And you didn't wear a welding mask, did you?"

"I..." This seemed to be a dead end for Riddler's reasonable argumentation, and now he decided to change his tactics and attack. "Look who's talking! The man who had himself handed to a crocodile on a silver plate!" Riddler spat out quite hatefully, some spit shooting out of his mouth as he did.

Scarecrow knew Edward Nigma and this was rather expected, offending others when feeling threatened. Jonathan didn't mind. His skin was tougher than that, Edward's words, no matter how harmful, couldn't hurt him.

"I had the doubtful pleasure of experiencing the close proximity of your fully exposed body. I remember your every defect, I can recall every little scar on your broken frame, including the one on your left wrist, quite telling evidence of your weakness, I'd say."

As far as Jonathan remembered, this “doubtful pleasure”, as the man kindly phrased it, had been received by Riddler quite enthusiastically. By insulting his partner, Nigma was only insulting himself.

Despite all that, there sure was an unexpected pang of bitterness in Jonathan’s heart. He shouldn't have let this man under his skin like this, yet alone into his bed, but here they were, discussing one of the two most sensitive topics for Jon like it was Gotham’s yesterday weather.

Perhaps, he had been too trusting toward the other rogue, naively hoping Edward would be more decent than this?

Edward had been anything but decent. "Riddle me this, Scarecrow," the man went on, now fully confident of his victory. "Which one of us is not careful enough? Which one of us went into the sewers of Gotham without a decent plan, hoping for the best? Which one of us was stupid enough to get himself mauled by a mindless crocodile-man? YOU!" Edward ended his little tirade pointing a judging finger at Jonathan, a triumphant, unhinged grin stretched across his wrinkled face.

Inhaling deeply through his mutilated nose, Scarecrow tried to swallow his resentment toward the other. It wasn't Edward's fault, he told himself, it was simply how his fragile ego functioned. And Edward was a sick man, it was the only way he could operate at all. If anything, he needed help, not logical arguments, and not a heavy hand, but just a little support.

At this point, however, it was really a charity on Scarecrow’s side to even consider giving him that much.

"You're right," Jonathan told the man, not without some spite. It felt like a thousand and the first time he had done this same old thing. One of them had to be smarter, if they didn't want to end up tearing at each other’s throats, and unfortunately, it was never Edward. "I must admit, I didn't plan my sewer escapade as thoroughly as I should have, and it has cost me dearly, which you are aware of. But you're not like me, Edward, you know better than being reckless. That's why..." Slowly, he pulled a little paper slip out of the pocket of his brown, stitched-up coat.

"What's this?" Riddler eyed the slip suspiciously.

"Take a look for yourself," Jonathan offered, outstretching his arm, and handing the paper to the other man.

A mix of curiosity and distrust was painted all over Edward's face as he attempted to read the note in the dim light of an underground train tunnel.

"Are you kidding me? Is that a prescription?" Nigma's voice was basically shaking with anger as he figured out the words scribbled on a little paper slip. "Are you prescribing me medication, Crane? What are you? My psychiatrist?"

“More than you know,” was hanging on the tip of Scarecrow’s tongue but he didn’t allow it to slip through. "Well, I am a doctor, so I..." he wanted to explain but he was cut short by another one of Riddler’s angry outburst.

"I don't want your medical opinion, and I don't need your help," he shouted, enraged once again. "Not yours! Not Batman's! And especially not that from those dolts back at Arkham! When will it sink in to your two-cells brains! I'm-not-CRAZY!"

“Mentally ill.”

“What did you just…”

“I said,” Scarecrow kept perfectly calm, savoring the precious image of Riddler’s furious expression, “the correct medical term would be: ‘I’m not mentally ill’. ‘Crazy’ is not exactly the professional way to put it. And of course, you’re not crazy." Crane decided to dodge the incoming tantrum. He walked toward the man, placing his hand on the other's shoulder as if to console him. "But you're stressed, overworked, your body tense, I can sense that much."

It was unlike Edward, not to instantly fend away the intrusive hand resting on his shoulder.

"I'm just.." Nigma was searching for the right word to express himself, his anger getting in his way. "Since when are you so observant? You’re nearly blind, from what I know. Last time you had to ask me to thread a needle for you.”

“…so I could stitch up your favorite shirt.”

“That’s beside the point!”

“It’s fine if you don’t want it,” Crane referred to the prescription, now crumpled into a small ball of paper within Riddler’s clenched fist. “It was a friendly gesture, don’t read too much into it. I simply assumed you might want some of the good stuff to help you relax.”

He pressed a little harder, showing Edward how painfully tense his neck muscles were. Before it could start to hurt, he undid the pressure and gave a little massage instead, trying to release the tension.

Nigma exhaled audibly, his breath a gust of hot air as if he literally let out some steam from his overheating system.

Scarecrow watched him closely, observed how his eyelids lowered just slightly, and how his facial muscles relaxed, giving his otherwise sharp features a calmer expression.

He circled him, never breaking the touch, until he stood behind him with both his hands over Edward’s shoulders.

It was almost unthinkable, how the two cruel villains had learned to accept the touch of the other. As violent as it had been at times, as bizarre, or as clumsy – they both had grown to appreciate the attempted intimacy, and even to seek it in their lonely hours.

And accepting the touch didn’t come easy to people like them, to ones who had been abused, scarred, beaten, traumatized, and forced into straitjackets, or strapped down to a cot in the asylum one time too many. Physical proximity didn’t spark positive feedback in their brains, and yet, they somewhat craved the comforting warmth of another body.

“I can’t just…rest. I have so much to do. One hundred and seventy-five riddles to write, two more racetracks to finish, and the bomb needs to be tested…” Riddler rambled on, and Scarecrow could basically feel his stress, so tangible under his fingertips.

“I know, Edward,” He lowered his voice, making the words come off as gentle, almost sympathetic. His hands were still on Riddler, giving a small massage to his neck, through the soft fabric of his green cotton shirt. “It must feel like suffocating, this overwhelming need to finish what you started. And the thought of something going wrong…” His hands slid to the front of Edward’s chest, as Scarecrow rested his chin on the other man’s shoulder. “Does it terrify you?” He murmured into his ear, eyes narrowed like a content cat. “Do you want this to stop? To silence all those voices in your head telling you that you might fail again, and it will be your own fault?”

He could sense Riddler’s chest raising and falling with sharp in- and exhales. He could feel his heart rapidly pounding as he held him trapped in the cage of his bony arms.

Was his embrace pleasant to the other, he wondered, or was he just preying on Edward’s insecurity again, only making things worse? They both had their compulsions, and while Riddler’s were flashy, and all over the place, his own were more subtle but definitely present.

The way he interacted with people, always treating them like test subjects in his never-ending studies of fear, Jonathan would have lied to himself, if he claimed he controlled that habit. It ran deeper than his conscious mind, it was in his nature, just like it was in a wolf’s nature to devour a sheep.

Scarecrow was a monster who had to sink his claws into his victims, and slowly tear them apart until he saw their innards, whether he wanted that or not.

“You’re wrong, Crane. I’m not afraid,” Riddler’s lies came out a tad too weak to be believable. “I’m going to win this time, I won’t let him beat me…”

“He did us both enough harm.” Crane’s palms traveled over Riddler’s body, finding no resistance. “You work night and day preparing your challenge, letting him sharpen his mind on your ingenious contraptions like on a whetstone, and what do you get in return? Mockery, humiliation, and pain…”

He knew he should stop himself before he would send Edward’s mind spiraling into the depths of his worst intrusive thoughts, but it was tempting, so bloody tempting to explore his fear of failure, to see him crippled by it, unable to act.

“You deserve better than that, Edward,” Scarecrow surprised himself by saying this.

Perhaps he had some self-restraint left in him after all?

“You deserve some rest.” His finger brushed over Riddler’s lips and moved to stroke his cheekbone. It was this kind of soft gesture that Edward really hated, and yet, he allowed himself to melt under Jonathan’s touch. “You deserve a good night’s sleep, and a calm mind to work on your projects. That’s why you will send one of your goons to get you those meds I prescribed you. Can you do this much for me, Edward? And if not for me, can you do it for yourself?”

The man in his arms let out a small sound, something between a grunt and an incoherent confirmation.

Then he shifted his position to face Jon directly. “I don’t work with people anymore,” the man muttered, throwing his arms around Crane’s neck. “They weren’t worth my time. I prefer the company of my riddlerbots… Or you, doctor.”

Crane would have smiled at that, if not for his face. He had to admit, he had never met a man with a gaze so brutally intense as the one of Edward Nigma. But then again, everything about this obnoxious bastard was so damn intense, so vibrant and lively, screaming desperation and insanity. And Jonathan loved that with all his might.

“You must be awfully lonely, my dear,” he teased, holding the other close and gently rubbing his back.

Riddler’s left hand held the back of his hood, eagerly roaming across the thick fabric, while his right was still keeping the prescription.

Jon would have kissed him already, hell knew he would have – lack of damn lips could be a bitch sometimes.

“You have no idea,” Edward confirmed with a haunting whisper, his breath provocatively warm on Scarecrow’s wounded face hidden beneath the burlap. “In fact, I don’t think you can even begin to comprehend how lonely it is at the top, above everyone else...”

“Don’t worry,” Crane pulled him further in, forcing their groins to collide. “With me, you can indulge yourself with being at the bottom.”

“How generous,” Riddler sounded almost offended, however, that didn’t really stop him from rocking his hips slowly, creating more friction. “You may have lost your face, but apparently not your terrible sense of humor. Perhaps you could even replace the Joker?”

“I wasn’t joking,” Jon assured him as his palms found their way down to Edward’s backsides. “If you behave, I will offer you ‘something extra’ to help you relax. What would you say?”

The man in his arms smiled at him flirtatiously. “I… might take you on your offer, dear doctor.”

Would Nigma take the meds afterwards, or not – it didn’t really matter. Even if Jon could fix him, he wouldn’t change a single thing about Edward. He didn’t wish for Riddler to get better, he wanted him alive, yes, but not a compulsion-free, and mentally stable man.

After all, if not for Riddler’s mental issues, the two of them would never have ended up in this unhealthy relationship, and would never have shared any of their precious, intimate moments together.

Had Edward been sane, he’d have cut all ties with Crane faster than one could tell a riddle.

The Master of Fear was not a man easily frightened, but the sudden thought of Riddler slipping through his fingers filled his heart with dread.

Jonathan couldn't afford it. He was ready to suffer Edward’s horrible temper only to keep this thing between them going, because in all honesty, Edward was the best that had happened to Jon his entire life.

Ironically, Jonathan was one of the worst things for Riddler’s mental health.

Fortunately, Edward didn’t seem to mind that.

[lily-radiance]

Random fic headcanons and ideas:

TWD season two Daryl Dixon with an S/O who's in trouble

Both loners

MC is not from Georgia

Early 20s MC dating mid-30s Daryl

She knows how to shoot archery bows but not crossbows

Touch-starved

Andrea considers MC like another younger sibling

Everyone advises Daryl not to go for you and vice versa

When Rick, Hershel, and Glenn go to the bar, MC accompanies them. Daryl only goes when Lori tells him that you are in danger.

Carol gives him advice

Andrea and Lori warn him if he breaks your heart, he's a dead man.

RE4 Leon with a high school best friend who became an Umbrella Scientist.

MC was initially training for the force with Leon but dropped out to find another passion

She wants to help people but gets pulled into Umbrella’s dark research

Leon caught a glimpse of her at the end of RE2 but couldn't be sure if it was her.

Ashley doesn't trust MC, but Leon ignores it

Both have combat experience and have undergone physical conditioning

MC does not have Las Plagas

Krauser spars with MC, causing Leon to jump in.

Krauser asks Leon to choose between you and Ashley.

IDK if Leon would be sweet here or a Yandere.

Arkham Movie Trilogy Jonathan Crane, Harley Quinn, and Poison Ivy x Psychiatrist reader

This story is currently in progress!!!

Reader works at Arkham Asylum

Friends with Bruce Wayne

Knows about his alter ego and occasionally helps him solve cases

Reader believes Bruce should do more with his money to benefit Gotham

Combines Heath Ledger’s Joker with Margot Robbie’s Harley Quinn

The reader was in the same major as Harley in college, and the two dated briefly

Harley constantly teases the reader when she catches wind of a new crush

You try to ignore her, but eventually can't as she warns you that the doctor is deadlier than he lets on

You brush it off, too fond of your coworker to accept the notion that he can hurt you

Bruce doesn't like your new counterpart, picking up a destructive energy that screams guilty

In defiance, you decide to bring your beaux to one of many parties and get on your friend’s last nerve.

A kiss is shared in front of the crowd, some murmuring complaints while others smile. You wish to stay in Jonathan’s arms, but the moment is interrupted as Bruce pulls you aside

Naturally, two upper-class socialites fighting in front of an audience calls for bad publicity, but not on your part

“If you keep this up, you'll become a sewer rat criminal just like the rest!”

Luckily, you decided to wear a few rings to accentuate your outfit. Not only do you look stunning, but you reel back and land a brutal slap on his cheek. Yet that doesn't hurt as much as your following words.

“How dare you, Bruce. How dare you scrutinize what you can never understand. Thomas and Martha would be ashamed of you, and you, of all people, know they were difficult to rattle. Next time you need anything, ask someone who gives a shit.”

Your friend has to watch in shock as you exit the home, arm linked with a man he despises. Even in disagreeable situations, you manage to exhibit grace and elegance. It's the beginning of a new era and the opportunity to forget the complex life of the wealthy.

“Is your hand alright, (Y/N)? Better yet, are you okay?”

Never underestimate a psychiatrist to get into your head. He walks you to the car, watching your lips tremble in the darkness. You meet his stare, and one thought crosses your mind: kissing him sounds lovely. The doctor is efficient at picking up social cues, leaning down to meet your lips, and extinguishing the frigid temperature.

“As long as I'm with you, Jonathan. I can do anything with you by my side, no matter the risks.”

I want to make the reader an anti-hero vigilante with the “Grim Reaper” theme. Supernatural powers in Batman don't really occur so I will brainstorm. Most villains are the work of genetic experiments gone wrong so maybe I'll work with that?

JD(Heathers 1989) dating the reader

You are friends with Veronica and the despicable Heathers

Instead of going along with their charades, you often argue and challenge Heather Chandler

She constantly threatens your social standing but knows that the campus would easily choose you over her.

Purple color coded

JD can't help but admire your tenacity as you begrudgingly follow Veronica to the table, attempting to stop the girl from doing Heather’s bidding.

When you walk over, he seems uninterested in the girl speaking to him, instead transfixed on your disinterested attitude. Unknowingly, you lick your lips, tasting lip gloss and wiping some glitter away. When you lock eyes, you swear your heart stops beating, drawn to his carefree attitude.

Veronica says a few words to you, trying to convince you to let her administer the lunch poll

As she talks, you playfully roll your eyes, causing the delinquent to smirk in your direction. He hides a chuckle from breaking out, finding your careless joking funny given the circumstances. When Veronica walks off, it allows you to sit across from the newcomer, albeit a little too eagerly.

“Mind if I ask for a smoke? I'm dying from boredom.”

“Sure, I could never say no to a girl like you. I’m guessing you’ve been trying to break from those devils all day.”

He lights your cigarette as you take it between your teeth, enjoying the visual more than he lets on.

“It's all thanks to you, my knight in obsidian armor.”

[brooklynislandgirl]

10 Fandoms / 10 Characters / 10 Tags

Tagged By: my loves @kylo-wrecked and @tangleweave Tagging: Anyone who feels like they need one more Sunday this weekend.

~*~*~*~

I. Marvel: Beta-Ray Bill, Eddie Brock/Venom, Doctor Strange, Phil Coulson, Vision, Groot, Spider-Man {Peter Parker}, Gambit, Doctor Morbius, Bucky Barnes. M'Baku {Hate the moniker of 'Man-Ape'}. Magneto. Loki. Night Crawler. Frank "Punisher" Castle. Colossus. Danny "Iron Fist" Rand. Foggy Nelson. Ghost Rider {Both Johnny Blaze and Robbie Reyes, "Caretaker" Carter Slade}. I know that's more than 10. Whatever, I do what I want. >.> II. DC: Lex Luthor, Nanaue {King Shark}, Martian Man Hunter, John Constantine, The Joker, Jonathan Crane, Morpheus {Dream of the Endless}, Death of the Endless, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Swamp Thing, Green Lantern. Cisco Ramon. Hunter Zoloman.

I absolutely blame @nightmarefuele for at least two of these.

III. Star Wars: Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader. Admiral Piett. Kylo Ren. Wedge Antilles. Kit Fisto. Han Solo. Chewbacca. Jocasta Nu. Darth Rivan {not to be confused with Darth Revan}. Jos Vondar. Jango and Boba Fett, and of course, all my 10,000,000,000 Clone children. No I will not be taking questions.

IV. Star Trek: Worf, Martok, Gowron, Chancellor Gorkon, Kurn, Dr McCoy, Uhura, Sulu, Chekhov, Chris Pike, Ortegas, Nurse Chapel, Geordie La Forge, Riker, Data, Lore, Chief O'Brien, Q, Benjamin Cisco, Garak, Gul Dukat, Quark. V. Firefly: Mal Reynolds, Jayne Cobb, Hobun Washburne, Zoe Washburne, Shepherd Book, Kaylee Frye, YoSafBridge, Adalai Niska, Badger, Jubal Early Take my life, take my land, take me where I cannot stand. I don't care 'cause I'm still free, you can't take the sky from me. {{My coat has always been a little...brownish.}

VI. The Walking Dead: Shane Walsh, Daryl and Merle Dixon, Michonne Hawthorne, Abraham Ford, Glenn Rhee, The Governor, Bob Stookey, Ezekiel, Dwight, Aaron, Morgan Jones. VII. Justified: Raylan, Boyd, Ava, Art, Rachel, Tim, Dewey Crowe, Johnny Crowder, Loretta McCready, Robert Quarles, Ellstin Limehouse, Mags Bennett, Devil, Jean Baptiste, Boon, Willa, Carolyn, Sweety... oh so many. VIII. Yellowstone: John, Jamie, Beth, Kayce Dutton, Rip Wheeler, Jimmy Hurdstrom, Thomas Rainwater, Mo Brings Plenty, Lloyd, Colby, Teeter, Jake, Ethan, Angela Blue Thunder, Malcolm Beck. IX. Law & Order- Alphabet Soup: Captain Cragen, Lenny Briscoe, Mike Logan, Anita Van Buren, Jack McCoy. Rey Curtis, Ed Green, Arthur Branch, Cyrus Lupo, Kevin Bernard, Frank Cosgrove, Jalen Shaw. Elliot Stabler, Olivia Benson, Odafin Tutuola, John Munch, Chester Lake, Melinda Warner, Amanda Rollins, Rafael Barba, Dominick Carisi, Peter Stone, Bobby Goran. I have seen literally every episode of the American Law & Order franchise Original, SVU, CI, OC, etc...with the first three watched multiple times. While I often wouldn't call it my most favourite show...it's probably my most favourite shows.

X. The Lord of the Rings: Boromir and Faramir, Éomer and Éowyn, Theoden King, Theodred, Gimli, Pippin, Sam, Meriadoc, Fangorn {Treebeard}, Beorn, Celebrimbor, Bard the Bowman, Dwalin, Celeborn, Denethor, Gil-Galad king, Fingolfin, The Watcher in the Water, Maedhros, Finwe, Manwe...and I could go on for years. My first true fandom as we know it {probably Arthurian Legend was my first and truest fictional love}, and one I have been faithful to for over 25 years. Honestly never please talk to me about it, because I have rabid opinions about literally everything. And lastly, I only included tv/movies here because books and rpgs would require an entire three or four Long Ass Posts all of their own. Much Love.

[permafrown]

ok. irene churchill beloved gotham s/i semi-official chain of events.. below the cut

SO HOW THESE THINGS GO DOWN (in most variations)

-> irene churchill moves to Gotham after getting their Mortuary Science degree, picking up a job at the GCPD morgue (rent's cheap, they get to move away from home, job pays well.. life is good!)

-> shortly into the job they get a case file with all of Gotham's villains for them to study up on, and what to expect, since they're not in the loop.

-> one of these files is missing, funnily enough, and it's Scarecrow's, so Irene doesnt know about him!

-> a few months later, halloween rolls around and The Event* happens, and they find themselves infatuated with Scarecrow, thinking he's just a scare actor at the time LMAO

-> shortly after they track down Jonathan Crane, asking him questions about the fear-related crime. not because they knew he was scarecrow (though they might've had an inkling) but because if anyone in this town could answer any morbid curiosities they had regarding fear toxin, it'd probably be a psychologist.

-> this causes them to hit it off! and irene gets attached

-> until.

-> ANOTHER scarecrow attack happens that actually lands him in arkham, and Irene learns through a news segment that jonny is scarecrow.

-> and they're just kinda like. "uh oh." because someone's. feelings did NOT go away

-> BUT ANYWAY.

-> they take the confiscated fear toxin from the GCPD and use it to start their own experiments, specifically modifying it to bring back the dead (a la reanimator)

-> the science behind this is some like mumbo jumbo about the fear component being strong enough to kickstart the brain. it's not real but its gotham so we're gonna say this works

-> they are successful, but only at making aggro zombies since the juice puts the undead in a constant state of fight or flight

-> so, they make a modified serum that would HOPEFULLY restore the person to their former self.

-> they never actually get to test this though because for one reason or another, Irene is killed !

-> their body is not buried in gotham, instead sent back to their home state for identification and all that other jazz

-> their new serum is used to bring them back, presumably by their family, and they spend a while back at home getting used to being 'alive' again

-> when they return. they're a new man!

-> they overthrow a city-wide event to announce their resurrection, along with a demonstration of their re-animation juice, and that's their humble villain beginning

-> their lair/hideout is a crypt on the outskirts of Gotham. btw

-> I do think Irene carried their feelings about Jonathan with them to their grave, and hoped that well, since they were alive again, maybe those feelings were buried with them the first time.

-> but they WEREN'T and it agonizes them to no end.

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 12: Destined to Do This Forever

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: Things had to go wrong for them eventually.  

Word Count: 886

Notes: Takes place during The Dark Knight. Warnings for depictions of violence.

Masterlists: Main • Series

Previous Part • Next Part

“You sure that it’s a good idea to be doing this at night, boss?” asked one of the goons, glancing around the parking garage anxiously. Tires squealed as two black vans pulled up and parked.

“We’ll be fine,” Jonathan said, adjusting his mask on his head. Even if the Bat decided to show his face, he wouldn’t do much more than rough them up and leave them for the police. Everyone knew that Batman didn’t kill.

The doors to the black vans opened, Chechen, with his greased back hair and ratty brown leather jacket, stepped out, glancing at the bat symbol shining in the sky, going around to the back of the van to coo at the dogs he and his people had brought with them. From the other van, Chechen’s goons pulled out a twitchy, whimpering man.

“Please! Please! They’re crawling in my mouth. Please, I beg you,” he sobbed. Jonathan waved his hand, and his men opened up the back of the van they were all hunched in, his goons stepping out with their guns half raised. He remained standing in the back of the van. For dramatic purposes. Wearing her goggles and her gas mask, Vanessa stepped out of the passenger’s seat, leaning against the side of the van. “Get them off,” Chechen’s men dropped the still whimpering man to the ground. 

“Look what your drugs did to my customers!” Chechen said.

“Buyer beware,” Jonathan stepped out of the back of the van. “I told you my compound would take you places. I never said they’d be places you wanted to go.”

“My business, repeat customers,” Chechen fretted. Jonathan shrugged.

“You don’t like what I have to offer, you can buy from someone else. Assuming Batman left anyone to buy from.”

The dogs began to bark, pulling against the leashes. Ah. Seemed like they were going to have company tonight after all.

“My dogs are hungry!” Chechen shouted, glancing into the shadows and smiling. “Pity there’s only one of you.”

There was thud and a yell from behind Jonathan’s van, and then another cry from the other end of the garage. And then the echoing boom of gunfire. Jonathan leapt backwards, abandoning the goons and pushing the open doors to the back of the van out of the way.

“That’s not him,” everyone knew that Batman didn’t use guns. The dogs were barking, goons clamoring. One of the Batman impersonators shot bullet holes into the side of his van. Asshole. Another one tried to press a gun into his back and Jonathan whirled, spraying him in the face with a helping of toxin, grinning to himself as he went down screaming. From the other side of the van, he was pretty sure that he heard the audible thunk of a head smashing into concrete as Vanessa slammed another to the ground.

And then a massive black tank rolled into the garage.

“That’s more like it,” he could almost say that he was relieved. At least Batman would deal with the idiots with guns.

“Time to go,” Vanessa called to him, already sliding back into the passenger seat. He couldn’t agree more, jumping in and revving the engine. As he spun the van around, something collided with the side of it. “Oh, really?” Vanessa sighed, glancing out the window at where he could only assume Batman had latched onto the side of the van. No matter, he made sure to drive closer to the wall on that side, almost scraping the white paint off, but managing to shake the vermin off.

The car’s tires squealed unpleasantly as he began the descent down the circular exit ramp to the ground floor. Not long now…

BAM!

Oh, seriously? 

Vanessa groaned as the van’s roof all but caved in when Batman landed on it. They were plucked unceremoniously from their seats and dumped with the other goons and copycat Batmans. His mask was ripped off and Vanessa’s goggles and respirator pulled away. Then, just for good measure, Batman yanked the bobby pins out of her hair and took them. 

Damn. Apparently he’d gotten wise to that old trick of getting out of handcuffs. 

“Don’t let me find you out here again,” Batman growled at one of the copycats.

“We’re trying to help you!” the one to Jonathan’s right complained. 

“I don’t need help!” Batman shouted, sounding, Jonathan thought, very much like a petulant teengager as he jumped up onto his tank.

“Not my diagnosis!” Jonathan called back to him.

“Same time next week, Bats?” Vanessa laughed, side shaking beside him with it. 

“What gives you the right?” the copycat was still yelling. “What’s the difference between you and me?”

“I’m not wearing hockey pads,” Batman said, disappearing within the dark depths of the tank. Wow. He almost thought that might have been a joke. Who would have thought the vermin had it in him?

As the tank pulled away, the sounds of approaching sirens started to grow closer. Vanessa let her head rest on his shoulder, pouting. He kissed the top of her head. It might be a while until they were able to be together like this again.

It could have been worse, he supposed. One of the idiots currently sitting beside them could have shot them. At least they were both alive.

That was something. 

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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[masteroffearshusband49020]

Cuddling with No Man's Land Scarecrow

You and John both sat on the couch next to each other. You gently placed your hand on his and looked at him, waiting to meet his gaze. He turned to slowly and a little hesitantly. Your expression was soft, but it was clear you wanted something from him.

"Yes, dear?" He asked you wearily. You held his hand in both of yours and kissed it. His muscles relaxed and he smiled at you feebly.

"I want to get closer to you, is that ok?" You asked, stroking his hand. He tensed a bit.

"How far do you want to go?" He asked hesitantly.

"I just want to hold you, to cuddle you." You reassured him. His expression softened. "Is that ok?" You asked again. He swallowed and nodded 'yes'. You cupped his face. He looked at you, a bit anxious. You gave him a smile to reassure him. His anxiety fizzled away and you both leaned in to kiss one another. You let him lie on you as you ran your fingers through his hair. You very slowly began running your hands across his body. You started off slow and didn't go very far at first, easing him into it. You touched your forehead with his, proving to him that there was nothing to be afraid of.

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 2

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | Your first day as patient 23250.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, rape, non con, dub con, rough oral, p in v sex, fear play, crying, rape (again. I'm really emphasizing this lol), forced breeding, unprotected sex, involuntary admission to asylum, non consensual use of fear toxin, drugs, coercion.

Words | 4k

Notes | This is rape. Just straight up. Again. Final warning. If you won’t like it, don’t read it.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 1

When you woke up, the first things you noticed were how dry your mouth was, how much your head hurt, and the aching pain between your legs. You forced yourself to open your eyes under the bright fluorescents, finding a silhouette sitting across from you. You weren’t able to distinguish who it was as your eyes adjusted to the blinding lights, but the second you could see, your heart dropped to your stomach. You instantly tried to get up, to escape, but your limbs were all restrained by the examination chair you were on. The noise alerted the man across from you and he closed the file he was writing in as he looked at you. 

“I’m sorry about the restraints. I couldn’t have you trying to harm me again.” 

“No,” You shook your head, eyes quickly filling with tears. “Please let me go.” You whimpered. 

“Don’t cry. It’s been a very long day and I don’t have the patience to pretend I care.” He sighed, crossing his hands and resting them on the table. “Now that you’re awake I’d like to start the evaluation. Do you know why you’re here?” 

“Because you fucking kidnapped me.” You spat, thrashing in the binds again as your breathing picked up. He grabbed the pen and opened the folder again to write something down. 

“Patient suffers from delusions,” He muttered under his breath. “Still volatile.” 

“Are you serious? You can’t do this!” He sighed and took off his glasses, then raised his brows as if to say ‘really?’

“The more you cooperate, the easier this will be for you.” 

“You’re a fucking psychopath.” You hissed. He stared at you for an uncomfortable amount of time before sighing and putting his glasses back on.

“I think I have all I need from this evaluation. A guard will be by to take you to your cell and give you the medication I’m prescribing to help with your… outbursts.” He said, collecting his things and standing up. 

“No!” You yelled, pulling on the restraints so hard that your wrists started to burn. “You can’t fucking do this!” He ignored you as he left the room, two orderlies entering soon after. When they worked on uncuffing you, you started thrashing around, trying to not let them get a good grip on your arms, but two against one and with no muscle? You lost easily. 

“Get the fuck off of me!” You screamed, trying to yank yourself out of their grip, but they were unfazed as they dragged you down a few hallways before stopping in front of a door. One of the men opened it and the other threw you inside, making you land on the hard floor with a grunt. 

“Change into those before we get back or we’ll do it for you.” One of the orderly said, giving you a smirk before closing and locking the door. You glanced at the pile of clothing on the tiny bed, then looked around the rest of the room. There was a metal toilet right next to the bed, but other than that, it was bare. You sighed and got up, trying to ignore how the tiny room was making you panic a little, and changed into the clothes- cotton underwear, scratchy pants, and a scratchy shirt. Not even any socks. As you sat on the bed, you weren’t sure how much time went by before a nurse opened the door, carrying a small paper cup. 

“Take this.” She said, zero emotion in her tone and expression. You eyed the pill in the cup, then looked back up at her. “I’m not going to tell you again.” She sighed. 

“Fuck you.” You muttered, looking at the wall. 

“Take it or I’m going to have to force you to take it.” You glared at her and she only waited another second before moving forward and grabbing your cheeks to tilt your head back and open your mouth. You panicked and blindly kicked at her legs, making her flinch back. 

“Fucking bitch.” She spat, then left, slamming the door behind her. You let out a heavy breath and leaned back against the wall, closing your eyes. 

The sound of the door being flung open made you jump and multiple orderlies walked in, one holding a straight jacket. You panicked and fought, but they easily held you down and put it on, tightening the buckles uncomfortably. When someone forced the pill in your mouth, you immediately spit it back out. 

“Whatever. Crane can deal with her.” He scoffed, tossing the empty paper cup on the floor and leaving with the other orderlies. 

“How are you doing today? I heard you assaulted a nurse and spent your first night in restraints.” He glanced down to the straight jacket binding your arms. “And you refused to take your medication, is that correct?” You stayed silent, glaring at the floor, making him sigh. 

“From now on you are only to see me, no other doctors or nurses. I will administer the medication myself, by syringe if I have to, and we will resume our normal sessions.” The last part made your breath catch in your throat. You had been so preoccupied worrying about everything else that was happening, you forgot that’s the whole reason he brought you here. 

“Need I remind you that should your poor behavior persist, I will take away your contraceptive privileges, regardless of our daily sessions.”

“Fuck you.” You muttered dejectedly. 

“Fine.” You watched out of the corner of your eye as he scribbled something out. “We will continue your treatment until the withdrawal bleeding starts, then resume when it is finished.” Despite the fact that your stomach twisted at the thought, that fear had been replaced by something else- someone else. 

“I’m not proud to admit I’ve grown quite impatient so we will start with the experiment before moving on to your treatment.”

“Experiment?” He ignored you and opened the briefcase on his desk. He put on a burlap sack that was made to look like a scarecrow and before you even realized what was happening, a cloud of gas was invading your senses. Your lungs burned as you coughed, heart pounding harder in your chest, hands quickly becoming clammy. 

“What was that?” You said through a cough, closing your eyes and trying not to inhale, but the damage was already done. When you opened them again, Dr. Crane was in front of you, hands on the arms of the chair, caging you in. Only this time it wasn’t just the uncomfortable twist in your stomach that you felt. Your heart rate was faster, as was your breathing, and all you could remember was how he was in a similar position as he made your worst fear come true. 

“What do you see?” You squeezed your eyes shut again, shrinking back into the chair. “Open your eyes.” He growled and you let out a choked sob as you obeyed. “Good. Now tell me what you see.” He repeated, harsher this time. 

“You.” You whispered, gaze rapidly moving between his icy blue eyes. 

“No. Tell me what you see.” He enunciated his words condescendingly, quickly becoming impatient with your lack of a proper answer. 

“You- I see you.” You cried, making him tilt his head questioningly. 

“Who?”

“Dr. Crane.” You whimpered and he moved back slightly. 

“You see my face?” You nodded, watching his features blur with unshed tears. “Fascinating.” He said, then pulled back completely. “Though I would’ve liked to study how a fear of a situation would’ve manifested, rather than a fear of an object.” He said, mostly to himself, ignoring your sobbing. 

“Was the change because of these specific circumstances or would you have seen anyone who raped you?” You sobbed harder as he mentioned it, vividly picturing that memory. “I’ll have to test that by repeating the incident with someone else.” He muttered, then spoke up as he gave you his full attention. “As of right now though, I gave you a very diluted dose, the effects should wear off soon. Don’t go anywhere.” He said, almost amused by his ‘joke’, then walked to the door and left. 

Blinking away tears, you stood on shaky legs and made your way to the door, but the handle was circular, not something you’d be able to just push down without hands. You let out a choked sob and fell to your knees, feeling utterly defeated and hopeless.   

Dr. Crane was in front of you suddenly, pushing you back and tearing the cheap fabric of your pants to free your cunt. You whined and tried to back away from him, but he just dug his nails into your thighs and held you still. 

“No- not again. Not again- please,” You whimpered. He positioned his cock at your entrance and wasted no time forcing his length in your underprepared hole. You screamed at the burning pain and writhed beneath him, only stopping when you heard the door open and shut. Was someone here to help you? Turning toward the door, you found Dr. Crane examining you. When you turned back to the man between your legs, there was no trace of him, even your pants were fully intact again. 

“What did you see?” He asked eagerly and you tried to clear your head enough to figure out what was going on. “Was it me again?” He added impatiently.  

“I don’t- What was that? What did you do to me.” You muttered, brain still foggy. The man swiftly walked over to you, then dropped down into a squat to be at your eye level. When you started trying to move backwards, he just grabbed your ankle and yanked you toward him, making you land on your back. 

“Tell me what you saw.” You just stared at him, confused and scared. He grabbed a buckle on the straight jacket and lifted you up to a sitting position. “Now.” Swallowing the lump in your throat, you tried to answer him so he wouldn’t get mad. 

“Y-you.”

“What was I doing? Why were you on the floor?” 

“You- you were…” You trailed off into a choked sob, not wanting to say it let alone think about it. 

“Tell me.” 

“You tore my- my pants and-“ You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. 

“Did I rape you? Is that what you saw?” You nodded with a silent sob and he released the straight jacket. “Interesting. So it’s not only me specifically.” You watched him walk over to his desk, scribbling something down. As you sniffled, you could feel your heart rate and breathing slow down drastically. 

“And you had no hallucination of being pregnant or giving birth?” He asked, actually talking to you this time. You shook your head in response and he wrote something again before moving toward you. You flinched back as he reached for you, but he managed to grab you and pull you to your feet anyway. He escorted you to the chair you were previously in and pushed you down, then sat in his desk chair. 

“We will resume the experiment after your first treatment when you’re not on birth control. I have a feeling your hallucinations will be centered around that instead.” He said, still writing before looking back up at you. “Was that all you saw or was there something else?” 

“That was it.” You said quietly.  

“Next time I’m going to give you a higher dose so it lasts longer.” 

“What did you give me?” You croaked. 

“A very diluted version of my fear toxin.”

“Fear toxin?” You said quietly and he gave you a small smile. 

“Yes. I use it in my experiments.”

“I don’t wanna do it again.” You whimpered, not looking at him. 

“Unfortunately you don’t have a choice, but you should be grateful. I don’t plan on giving you as much as the other patients. I need you sane enough for our normal sessions.” You didn’t feel grateful. You felt sick to your stomach. 

“From now on we will do the experiment, then your treatment, because I have a feeling everytime I watch you under the influence of my toxin, I’m going to get as hard as I did today.” You stifled a gasp as he stood up to walk toward you, his bulge now very obvious. He grabbed the straight jacket again and moved you from the chair to your knees on the floor. You stared blankly as he unbuttoned his pants, then took his cock out. 

“If I even feel the slightest brush of your teeth, I’ll take you to one of our medical rooms, tie your legs to the gynecological examination chair, and accidentally leave the door unlocked. If a few guards happen to come in… I won't be there to stop them. Do you understand?” You nodded silently, staring up at him with wide, fearful eyes. “Good.” 

He brushed his fingers through your hair, then tightened his grip, holding you still. You tentatively opened your mouth and he slowly slid inside, not stopping until he met the resistance of your throat. He started a slow pace of thrusting in and out, holding your head still and only moving his hips. When he let out a low groan, you looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Good girl. Suck it- Use your tongue.” You obeyed, pressing your tongue against the under side of his cock and hallowing your cheeks. “Oh fuck- just like that, good girl.” He said through a moan. 

He suddenly pulled out, giving you a chance to catch your breath, which you took eagerly. After a moment, you took a deep breath and opened your mouth, waiting. He gave you a proud smile as he slipped back inside, starting a slightly faster pace. He built you up to it, letting you get used to the speed before increasing it just a little more. 

“God- you’re so good at this. Feels almost as good as your pussy.” He whined, losing control over the motions of his hips. He snapped into you faster, ignoring the way you started to choke. When he pulled your head down his length, he let out a choked groan. The lack of oxygen made you panic and writhe beneath him, but he ignored it. He kept pulling you closer until the barrier of your throat gave in and your lips were at the base of his cock. You wanted to claw at his thighs, push him away- anything. But you couldn’t because of the straight jacket.  

When he let you pull off, you coughed violently, trying to move away from him despite his grip on your hair. 

“Open.” He said sternly, making you whine and keep trying to back up. He stared at you a moment, then sighed and let you go. He walked over to his desk, picked something up, then walked back to you. “You can open or we can continue the experiment, this time with a significantly higher dose.” You recognized now that what he picked up was what he sprayed you with earlier. 

His threat worked though and you let your mouth fall open, nervously eyeing his hand that was still inches from your face. His free hand grabbed your hair again, holding you still as he resumed fucking your face. Your gaze anxiously moved between his eyes and his hand, until a particularly rough thrust made you gag and squeeze your eyes shut. Despite that, you forced yourself not to try and pull away, but the longer you choked and couldn’t breathe, the harder that became. When he eventually yanked you off of him, you panted heavily, looking up at him through blurry eyes. 

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry. I’m trying,” You rasped, trying subconsciously to move away from the toxin still pointed at your face. 

“Do better.” He spat, putting his length back in your mouth before you could respond. His pace turned brutal, fucking you so hard that you knew the back of your mouth was going to bruise. As he fucked you, his moans got louder until he buried his cock deep in your throat again. You thought he was going to come, but he just held it there until the tears in your eyes fell down your cheeks. Only after you started thrashing, desperate for air, did he yank you off his length, letting go of your hair. You coughed and sputtered, taking in heavy breaths, trying to get more oxygen.  

“Get up.” Not meeting his gaze, you stood on shaky legs, waiting for the next command. But he just turned you around and pushed you toward the desk, then slammed your torso down on it. You landed with a wince and turned your head to the side, watching him place the canister in your eyeline. Your arms were squished uncomfortably beneath you, but that was the least of your worries as you felt him slowly drag your pants down your legs. You let out a quiet sob as he pulled your underwear down, then groped your ass, pulling your cheeks apart. His breath fanned your ass as he released a dark chuckle.  

“Look at that. So wet and I haven’t even touched you.” He swiped his fingers through your slit, groaning at the sight of your arousal. “I won’t take long so I’m not going to bother preparing you any further.” You stiffened as the head of his cock swiped through your folds, moving down to your clit, then back up to your hole. He pushed in slowly, letting out a low groan as he savored the feeling of your walls practically sucking him in. Placing both hands on your hips, he pushed forward until his thighs were flush with your ass. He cursed under his breath and gave you a moment to adjust as you trembled beneath him. 

It hurt. More than last time. Presumably because you’re still sore from last time, but also because he didn’t do anything to prep you this time. You could feel tears growing in your eyes and you willed them down, not wanting to feel even more pathetic and weak than you already do. When he slowly pulled out, then slammed back in, you let out a hoarse scream. 

“You’re hurting me.” You cried, trying to lift yourself up, but he placed a hand on your back and shoved you back down. “Please, Dr. Crane- you’re hurting me!” His pace sped up significantly as he chased his orgasm. 

“Keep begging like that.” He moaned. Placing both hands on your shoulders for a better grip, he started pounding your hole agonizingly hard, using his grip to pull you back on his cock with each thrust. 

You realized that you found yourself wishing he would just come already. You didn’t even think about the consequences, you just wanted him to stop. Maybe he really is helping you get over your fears after all. 

You could tell he was getting close as his thrusts turned frenzied and his moans got louder, so you stayed silent, not wanting to accidentally do something to make him drag it out. He didn’t give you a warning before pulling your body closer, impaling you deep on his cock. His hips still pushed forward, trying to bury his length deeper in your aching hole. While part of you wanted to scream and cry, another part was starting to associate his orgasms with relief from the pain of him fucking you. 

His sounds died off until all you could hear was him panting. He pulled out slowly, then immediately pulled your underwear back up so his come wouldn’t drip out. 

You laid there, exhausted emotionally and physically, as he pulled your pants back up, then righted his own pants. Lifting you by the collar of the straight jacket, he moved you back to your chair, then sat down on his own. 

“I’m going to give you something that should make tomorrow's treatment a bit easier on you. Unfortunately that means you’ll have to keep that on so you don’t interfere with anything.” He motioned to the straight jacket and you furrowed your brows, not understanding what he meant. 

“However, that does mean you won’t have to take the other medication today. It shouldn't affect the drug I’m giving you, but since you haven’t started taking it yet, you might as well wait one more day.” He explained, then pushed a button on the phone on his desk and leaned into the speaker. “Bring in what I prepared for patient 23250.” He said, then released the button on the phone, giving you his full attention. “I will give you one last chance. Don’t fight this and you can continue taking your birth control.” The door opened and a man walked in, carrying a syringe. Dr. Crane got up to take it from him, then stood next to you. 

“Thank you. Wait by the door.” He said to the orderly, who nodded and stepped back. “Well?” He asked, leaning down to look at you. You eyed the syringe nervously. He’s going to give it to you whether you fight or not…

“Okay.” You said quietly, then reluctantly barred your neck to him. 

“Good girl.” He said, then walked back to his desk to retrieve it- He already had it ready? He didn’t offer you any water so you had to dry swallow it. The second you were done, he was taking your cheeks in his hand and turning your head to the side. You winced as the needle pierced your skin, but he finished quickly. 

“Take her to isolation and remove the bed. No one is to see her but me. Bring her back here at 8 am tomorrow.” 

“Yes, sir.” The man said, walking over, then lifting you to your feet by the straight jacket. You were all but dragged down the hallways until he opened a door and shoved you inside, making you land on the floor with a grunt. At least the floor was padded this time. He walked in and grabbed the “bed” from the corner of the room before exiting. 

“Good luck.” He snickered, then closed the door, the lock clicking loudly in the otherwise silent room. You sat up and eyed the small space. It was just white padding and a single light overhead. Nothing else. You sighed and decided to lie down, it seemed like it was almost night anyway so you might as well try to sleep. 

As you laid there, desperately trying to sleep under the bright luminescent, you suddenly felt your whole body break out in a sweat. Your skin grew warm and flushed- then you felt it. The unmistakable feeling of arousal pooling in your stomach, traveling down to between your legs. You tried to just breathe calmly and let it pass, but it wouldn’t. It just got worse. 

Writhing on the floor, you tried to find a way to stimulate your clit besides rubbing your thighs together- no wonder he took the bed. You sat up and crossed your legs, trying to grind on your heel. It was barely an improvement. Letting out a long, needy whine, you pulled on the straight jacket, trying to free your arms. When you were unsuccessful, you let out a choked sob, looking around the room. The padding on the door got rid of the edge so it was just a normal wall. There was literally nothing you could use. The realization brought tears to your eyes, so you laid back down and tried to will it away, even though it was only getting stronger. 

Part 3

[dercolaris]

His Eyes

Fandom: Batman

Characters: Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane

Relationship: Edward & Jonathan

Genre: Romance

Word Length: 2078

Warnings: No Warning

Status: Complete

Short Summary: His eyes see him in a different light. Always.

A foul-smelling drop of oil fell off the rusted car frame and landed on the tinkerer's nose after a short fall. Edward rubbed the back of his hand across his by now slightly dirty face and groaned a bit too loud, blindly groping around for his welder with his free hand. The unfavourable hole in the oil tank had already made itself felt a few weeks ago during a dangerous escape from Gotham City, but this was quickly forgotten after arriving safely at the shelter. The Riddler slid down his welder's shield and began welding the reasonably stainless metal into the right place. The seams certainly wouldn't last forever with this inferior material, but it shouldn't be able to leak any more liquid for at least a couple of weeks.

 Edward sceptically checked his work again and again and corrected failed passages all over again in his need of perfection. He probably couldn't count on two hands how many times he'd repaired his old Ford Mustang, but the tinkerer was attached to his trusty vehicle. Many things in his life had let him down - but never his machines. Of course, that included the aging car with the scuffed leather seats and hideous rust-green paintwork. A vehicle as marked by life as its owner. The Riddler finished his work after a few minutes and rolled out from under the car, then slowly removed the welder's shield from his face.

 The tinkerer got up unsteadily, searched on his workbench for a new license plate. He had pressed and coloured it last night so that it was indistinguishable from the originals, at least from afar. Edward grabbed his cordless screwdriver and put the sign in place. It was of course only a matter of time before the GCPD would uncover the fake plate on a spontaneous sighting, but for a few quiet shopping trips it was sufficient. The black-haired man wiped the sweat from his forehead and got down on his knees again, carefully inspecting the repaired area again. Dry as a dessert.

 Edward stretched once after standing up again and looked down at his greasy hands. He grinned slightly as he spoke softly to himself: "Motor oil on your skin is a good replacement to the most expensive body lotion." The Riddler loved the smell of all the liquids that brought his machines to life. It just smelled honest to him. The tinkerer wrinkled his nose a bit and went to the sink in his workshop to wash his dirty hands with a special soap. The water turned black for a long while, interrupted occasionally by rainbow-like ripples towards the outlet. Unfortunately, his roommate had little sympathy for his love of strong-smelling engine and lubricating oils.

 The black-haired man left his workshop with reasonably clean skin and was greeted by the last rays of the evening sun as he left. The ramshackle house bathed in the soft orange glow. It was still a mystery to Edward why nobody was renovating the old buildings in the outskirts or at least considered the generous building land valuable enough to risk a new start here. Everyone seemed to be drawn to the stinking, overcrowded, and in garbage drowning city centre. The tinkerer yawned behind his hand. He didn't want to complain about being able to spend most of his life without disturbing neighbours. Edward strolled across the front yard to the porch.

 He no longer knew how much time he had already put into the renovation and partially necessary refurbishment, quite apart from the money he invested. However, his intensive work did not seem pointless to him. The house thanked the black-haired man with his unique beauty and a certain charm. He was already counting the days they had spent together in the building. A new law in Gotham had, for the first time in the tinkerer's life, caused genuine joy about the rule of law: after three years of vacancy, a plot of land could again be expropriated and reallocated. That was the great opportunity to officially acquire this house completely legally. Their ticket out of the sordid underground life!

 Edward walked into the house, visibly smiling and took a deep breath in the entryway. Instead of unhealthy black mould, it now smelled like a mixture of coffee and old wood. The Riddler hardly dared to say it, but it smelled like home. A home that he had always wanted from a young age on. The tinkerer listened in the corridor for a moment. It was eerily quiet. He hung his jacket on the coat hook on the wall by the front door and called out loudly: "Jon, I'm done! The car is repaired!” Silence.

 The black-haired man went up the stairs to the upper floor. Jonathan was not a friend of loud noises and avoided shouting even at home. It didn't fit into his picture of a civilized, peaceful coexistence in a tight space. Edward had a very different view on that topic. Two and a half years ago, two worlds had collided almost brutally here and it had taken a lot of time to find a suitable middle ground for the relationship to work nicely. For example, it was only allowed to scream in the entrance area and in emergencies, otherwise an appropriate volume had to be selected in the rest of the house.

 In return, Jon had taken to the fact that there was a bit of chaos everywhere and he didn't have to clean up after the Riddler like a maniac. At some point, the item would find its right place – sometimes it just took around three weeks and what felt like twenty reminders to put it away as soon as possible. Edward strolled down the hall, clearly surprised to find that the library door wasn't locked as usual. Jonathan must have been desperate for company tonight. The tinkerer entered without knocking and looked around, then frowned. Jon wasn't sitting at his desk as usual.

 Before he could call for his boyfriend, he heard the low voice between the bookshelves: "I'll be right there, Edward. Take a seat, please and we can talk in peace.” The black-haired man smiled at his partner's precise choice of words and then sat down in one of the two comfortable reading chairs. An almost empty coffee mug was on the side table. As a matter of principle, Jonathan drank his coffee unusually strong, bitter and, of course, without sugar. In the eyes of the tinkerer, the liquid really deserved the name 'tar broth', especially since the former psychiatrist's favourite coffee beans didn't necessarily flatter the fine coffee aroma. Actually, it only made everything so much worse.

 Jonathan suddenly emerged from a row of shelves. His gaunt figure in the shadow of the furniture looked intimidating and almost frightening as usual, but the Riddler had gotten used to the sight by now. The professor couldn't help his grotesque demeanour or his stubborn manner. He was a scientist and there was an infinitely long list of things that were more important to him than his looks and behaviour. The brown-haired man sat down in the second chair and put some books on the table, accidentally knocking over his coffee mug.

 Edward reacted quickly, gripping the porcelain tightly. A few drops of the black broth still ran over the rim of the mug. Jonathan's surprised expression gave way to a small smile. He spoke with a certain amusement in his voice: "I wouldn't know what to do without you regarding my clumsiness." "You would probably need to get into the habit of carrying at least one roll of kitchen paper around with you at all times," Edward teased with a broad grin. His partner was silent for a moment, but then, after a moment's thought, started laughing out loud. The Riddler chuckled at the gesture.

 When he met the sinister professor over eight years ago, an honest laugh was almost an event of the century. Because of all the strokes of fate, Jonathan hadn't been able to have fun and simply enjoy life with a certain ease for a long time. Only by working more closely with the tinkerer had he finally been able to find his smile again. "My solution would probably not be drinking near documents and books, but I respect your pragmatic solution-orientation," replied the former psychiatrist, clearly amused.

 Edward rolled his eyes slightly and set the coffee mug down a safe distance from the books. He said calmly: "That's why I better repair our car and not you. In your case, I wouldn't be so sure whether you wouldn't simply dump the old car into the nearest river and buy a new model after 'theory-based cost-benefit analysis of a wheeled vehicle on two axles with four rubber-coated wheels'.” Jonathan frowned and growled a little bitterly: "I would certainly not buy a new vehicle right away. There is always the option to hire a mechanic, you buffoon.”

 The Riddler had to suppress a laugh convulsively. This kind of unnecessary discussion made life with the sinister professor all the more enjoyable. The black-haired man shrugged his shoulders in response and added cheekily: "Fortunately that's not necessary, is it?" Jonathan didn't reply to this rhetorical question. Instead, he fished a pack of matches out of his pocket and lit the candle on the side table, then shook out the burning wood. On the upper floors, not all the electronic lines worked reliably, and especially on the dark winter nights, darkness often engulfed entire parts of the house.

 The former psychiatrist rested his head on his hand, staring at the gradually darkening corridor for a while. He looked tired but not unhappy. A definite improvement from before they fled the city to the outskirts together. Jonathan needed a certain distance from society and the constant hustle and bustle around him had noticeably influenced his mood - above all, of course, negatively. The gaunt man's voice broke the silence: "Sometimes I really wouldn't know what to do without you, Edward." The tinkerer blinked in surprise, looking at his partner in irritation.

 His friend seemed absent-minded, immersed in an unfamiliar world that he was still forbidden to enter. Decoding Jonathan's mind was almost impossible. Such surprising statements only underlined this impression. How had he come to that conclusion, and why did he suddenly feel the need to say it out loud in front of the Riddler? They were lovers, there was no doubt about that, but there was always a certain rivalry between them. No one wanted to openly admit weaknesses to the other.

 Edward looked down at the frayed rug on the wooden floor. He blushed a little and replied uncertainly: "Very funny, Jon. You'd get along just fine without me.” The person addressed broke his rigidity and took one of the books from the side table. He leafed through it for a while, then found a certain page. Jonathan read some of the lines out loud: "Love lets you find the secret places in another person, even the ones we didn't know existed, even the ones they themselves didn't think they could call wonderful." The sinister Professor lingered on the lines with his index finger and added quietly: "Who should show me these invisible places inside me if not you, Edward? Without your eyes, I'm nothing but a bundle of doubt, fear, and sadness whose anger occasionally manifests itself in violent outbursts. Your eyes put my figure in a different light.”

 The Riddler swallowed hard at this profound statement. He crossed his arms over his chest and replied sheepishly: "I actually only saw what was always there, Jon." The former psychiatrist shook his head slightly and carefully closed the book. He spoke softly: "No, you didn't just see it - you said it and showed it to me. Without these steps, I would still be clueless to these days." The black-haired man sat down a little forward and stretched out his arm, finally laying his hand on his partner's. He gently squeezed the thin, bony fingers. Jonathan smiled softly at the gesture, allowing this very intimate touch without questioning it further.

 At that moment, in addition to the smell of coffee and old wood, there was also the smell of motor oil in the air. A mixture that many people would judge differently, but Edward and Jonathan were more than in agreement on this one point: it smelled like home for both of them.

[crowpocrypha]

Farmer Jon Headcanons

I was trying to sleep, but it is Farmer Jon time.

I was thinking about a Jonathan Crane shortly into retirement.

Trying to stay low-key, instead of buying some land himself I imagine he'd take up an offer to help around someone else's farm and stay there for a short amount of time.

It'd be a little family owned farm, maybe a couple with their caretaker, one of their kids, struggling to maintain the farm, seeking more help to mend the land.

Jon stays in a guest room in the house and wakes up before everyone else to get started on feeding animals and cleaning stalls. Some alone time for himself.

The caretaker probably gets annoyed with Jon's seeming inability to wake them or ask them for help, but nothing more than "stubborn old man."

Jon likes to feed all the animals, and became fast friends with the crows that hang around the crops.

The family he stays with occasionally jokes how he does look like a scarecrow in the field.

He takes it in good spirits.

Jon reads in his spare time, however fleeting that has become on the farm.

He operates a lot of the machinery, though, stubbornly, he prefers to manually do many things.

He walks the hay bales up the stairs to the hayloft instead of using the lift because "that's what I've always done".

He uses a scythe and sickle to cut corn, because he's stubborn.

He's surprisingly good at milking cows, and again, prefers to do it manually.

He enjoys the hard work on the farm, it gives him something to do. A way to take his mind off of his history and his, by now, former obsession.

Jon grew on the caretaker and was a quick snare for their parents. They respect his work ethic and adore his straightforwardness and reprieve. Of course, everyone was antsy when The Scarecrow wanted to work their farm--but it was a quick turn around in perspective.

The caretaker was, of course, particularly concerned. Their parents? Living with the Scarecrow? Who in their right mind wouldn't be?

Alas, Jonathan Crane became a genuine friend and confidante. With a history in psychology his advice was valuable and informed.

One of the parents, easily a stubborn farmer through and through, convinced to let the younger, more capable, work the farm via logical tongue and convincing reinforcement--something only a therapist could successfully manage.

Jon is good help and a frankly honest person, a perfect helper for a struggling family farm in an era where farmers wear thin.

A recovering, reassimilating Jon helping around a family farm is just a really cute idea to me. I think the tone fits him well :)