#arkham asylum x male reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hadesrise · 1 month ago

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murder for you, baby !!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ➾ a justifiable serial killer on the loose, and jason finds himself being enamoured by him.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➾ jason todd x dbd!ghostface!male reader

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ➾ nsfw content, serial killer themes, dead dove do not eat, sexual arousal in response to violence or torture, murder, blood, deaths, gore, foul language, bottom!jason, top!reader, reader’s physique is described as tall and broad ( the slasher build ), possessiveness, choking, praise kink, blood kink, knife play ( reader carving his initials on jason ), toxic!reader ( ? ), sorta toxic relationship but also not, unprotected sex, love-making, pet names, overstimulation, dumbification, degradation if you squint, lil’ bit of manipulation, creampie, doggy style, mating press, biting, marking, oral ( r. receiving ), voice kink ( ? )

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ➾ not me coming back with halloween themed fic after halloween days have passed lol. i’m alive, y’all !! hope you enjoy this one that took a fucking month to write 😭

𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ; this post may contain disturbing contents that may not be suitable for every reader — a reader discretion is advised. MINORS DNI.

Gotham’s been terrorized by the worst people you could ever imagine, the kind that’ll stick with you forever and take residence to your nightmares if you were unfortunate enough. Many were hurt or even murdered as a result of the villains’ terrorization, with vigilantes running through the night to capture and send them to Arkham Asylum.

With the existence of a Psychopathic Clown, his equally psychopathic girlfriend with PHD’s that’s been wasted down the line, the Mother Nature freak, the ridiculously huge man with a gas mask on, the green coloured living question mark, and many others, no one would’ve ever thought anything could get any worse.

Until some criminals’ bodies turn up across the streets in such disturbing manner that haunts the witnesses to death.

One, a criminal who murdered young and homeless boys, gutted deeply to the point of their intestines hanging out. Another, a criminal known for kidnapping and selling people’s organs, mutilated with their torso torn back to expose the organs settled inside of them. Another one, a priest-turned-criminal who’s been violating women and children, crucified naked in his own church with his eyes gouged out, a Bible verse carved in his chest; ‘And if your eye causes you to sin, gouge it out and throw it away.’ Matthew 18:9; his penis cut off and body seemingly violated as well. Another more turns up, a governor-turned-criminal who’s been feeding into the rich despite their oath of generosity towards the poor, severely tortured with the skin on his back cut open, ribs severed from the spine and broken to the sides in order to create the illusion of wings, fluttering lungs pulled out from their chest cavity to resemble an eagle’s wings, with the word ‘traitor’ carved on his forehead.

The brutality and gruesome nature of the murders has set an alarming panic and fear across Gotham City that forced civilians into locking their doors at night. Criminals who were unidentified and not found by Gotham Police Department were also turning up in a form of miserable, tortured soul, along with the evidence and proofs of their crimes being carelessly laid beside their lifeless corpse.

The killer taunts those who are in charge of justice within their city each time the damned were unfortunate enough to be hunted down; pigs of failure written in the criminal’s blood right beside the drawing of a police’s logo.

However, despite how gruesome and disturbing the murders were, most people couldn’t deny that it was doing the city a favor. Justice System has failed more times than one could count to the extent of victims yearning to exact revenge themselves against their perpetrator, which causes most to react rather positively to the wrongful, unlikely hero who had seem to suddenly appear out of nowhere. The haunted finally getting the chance to slay the traumatic demons with the help of another psychopath on the loose.

Another justified monstrosity shouldn’t be the counter against one inhumane monstrosity that caused so much pain, trauma, and misery. But kindness could not vanquish one’s tainted blood. Forgiveness could not suddenly wash away the sins engraved deeply into one’s soul.

Imperfect, the victims muttered. An imperfect yet perfect way to save our burning souls wrongfully condemned by the criminals.

Red Hood has heard their murmurs.

Silent whispers of gratitude that fell on deaf ears, their previously dim soul brightening in relief and sanctuary with smiles on their faces as the Universe had finally took mercy on them and sent a Fallen Angel to slay the Demons away. He’s watched their spirit uplift, no longer chained down by the trauma and fear of the monsters that once ruined their lives, able to walk the streets carefree of tormentors. He’s watched their stiff posture visibly loosen, lively peacefulness settling itself at last within their haunted eyes. He’s watched them glow with happiness not feeling the presence of their perpetrator every couple of seconds, finally capable of living without needing to constantly look over their shoulders in paranoia and fear.

Ghostface is what the serial killer’s called, nickname born out of the mask that resembled a ghost always being left behind in crime scenes, each slightly different.

Jason has seen you. He didn’t mean to, really.

The temptation to get at least one look at you was great every-time he patrolled, wishing to just catch glimpse of an immoral hero who could make sacrifices no actual heroes could — who’s doing exactly what he wished before for Batman to do.

The Universe seems to have granted his wishes when his eyes catches the void of ghostface’s eyes, your mask tainted in splatters of blood from the dead criminal below you. Jason feels his world come to a stop as you slowly rise from crouching position and reveal your unnaturally tall height, broad shoulders visible under the black hooded leather. You hold silence and calmness despite being caught, tilting your head slightly to the side.

His heartbeat quickens yet he doesn’t feel fear. Jason idiotically steps closer as if he was in a trance, burning your existence within his eyes to engrave in his memory. Your bloody knife barely grazes his neck to stop him before using it to tilt his chin up, your figure looming and towering over him while seemingly staring into his eyes through his helmet.

A sense of peacefulness overcomes Jason being in your presence despite the absolute brutality and mercilessness that surrounded your entire being. You were deadly, silent, certainly creative with your work that it deems almost artistic, as if the criminals’ bodies were your own canvas to paint on — and Jason finds solace in you. A man he always needed, someone who’d be willing to cross the line and get rid of the actual evil for the sake of victims that’d be forever haunted if it continues to exist.

“I’ve heard things about you, Red Hood.”

Low, raspy, monotone voice speaks, sending shivers down his spine. It sounds cool and handsome regardless of the obvious use of voice changer, somehow littered with tiniest hint of flirtatiousness.

It takes him quite a while to answer, barely managing to let out a “yeah?” as he feels you drag the knife slightly closer to his pulse. His heartbeat quickens, but slows down when the cold metal was finally pulled away.

“Pleasant things,” You hummed, before your voice lowered a few octaves, “Can’t say the same about Batman.” Anger seems to seep through your tone that felt a little more than just sympathy for victims of villains Batman refused to put six feet under. Jason wondered if you’re also one of the victims his father failed.

“You… You know him that much?” Jason’s voice shakes from the nerve, your presence somehow greatly affecting him.

“I think everyone knows him enough,” You chuckled, but it sounded so empty that Jason can’t help but feel the goosebumps rise on his skin. It was quite chilling to meet someone who shows only a certain amount of emotion which could even be felt expressionless due to the monotonous pitch. The ghostface mask certainly did its job of making you seem more less human, the unmoving expression of ghost being horrified to death adding to the eeriness of your toneless mechanic voice.

Jason’s breath hitched when you took one step closer.

“But I know more about you. Your little past and the sufferings you’ve endured,” It’s spoken as if his life was one of your necessary investigation in your twisted justice. “It’s unfair, don’t you think? I would’ve gutted the Joker like a fish if it were to happen to my son.” There’s a condescending way in which you spoke, not directed at Jason but to Bruce.

“How—” Jason swallowed. “How did you—”

“I can make your dreams come true,” You interrupted him with a tempting offer, shutting him up effectively. Wide grin plastered your face despite not being seen behind your mask. “I can kill the Clown for you, Red Hood. If it means it’ll silence your troubled spirit. If it’ll bring you peace. I can hurt him on your behalf just like he deserves.”

It was like a whisper from the devil, slithering its way into Jason’s heart and mind to possess his soul, mirroring the one which whispered on Adam and Eve’s ears.

He’s been wanting — needing — to hear those words come out of Bruce. His suffering and death seemingly being brushed off as a cruel accident shattered him more than he’d ever admit, Bruce’s unhealthy coping mechanism and morality getting in the way of showing his love for Jason that left the younger man feel lesser than he was. Bruce was a complex person that’s sometimes difficult to understand, his impressive ways to stick to his morals being exactly his character, but Jason wanted for once, to actually feel how important he was to his father.

Was that too much to ask for, or was he just unworthy of the entirety of it?

“Why would you do that for me?” Confusion and subtle suspicion filled his tone as Jason narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out your intention despite the rush of hope that shot throughout his chest. He forced himself to feel nothing when you leaned in closer.

“Because you were wronged, of course.” You simply stated. “You are a victim. Not more, not less. You deserve a little more than just empty justice. And I’m a man who got tired of vigilantes that are afraid to make sacrifices for the greater good.” Then, you tilt your head slightly to the side in a way that’s somehow alluring. “But I can also say I’m intrigued by you.”

Jason’s heartbeat quickens again when your big hand seems to wrap perfectly around his throat, fingers resting just above his pulse points. It makes such filthy thoughts flood themselves into his mind, your long and quite thick fingers falling victims to his tainted imagination, and he had to give everything in himself not to bare his throat more for you. You seem pleased of his lack of disobedience and bite, having expected him to shove your hand away or flinch back before you could touch him. You’ve seen Red Hood once and how his uncontrollable rage resulted in violence, heavy burdens and extreme trauma turning him into a ticking time bomb that could explode any minute with the wrong move. He was absolutely lethal, the bullets serving as the evidence of his wrath and resentment towards the underground scumbags. It’s amusing that you have the man of violence himself now somehow completely under your control, surprisingly quiet and shy and obedient. You wondered if this is how he was before he was ruined by the cruelty of the world.

“You want it, don’t you? For me to kill the Joker.”

Jason feels as if you know everything he wants. Is this what it feels like to be important?

It takes a little while for him to answer, but he eventually came up with a “You’ll do that?” which sounded vulnerable and weak for the first time in his second life. Your heart clenched at the doubt and seemingly child-like vulnerability in which he uttered the words, as if he was afraid to trust something after being betrayed countless of times, reminding you of the sole person you’ve even began doing all of this for. They were quite similar yet so different — your older brother and Jason.

You hadn’t meant to cross his boundaries and unknowingly step into the empty hole that made home in his heart. Unconsciously slithering in like a snake by touching the subject his heart was longing for, not realizing his childhood’s still remaining within his spirit.

All he wanted was love and to feel safe again. You didn’t know the Red Hood was so adorably pitiful. A smirk plastered your face.

“I will,” You reassured and leaned your face inches away from his, the hand on his throat lifting his helmet slightly.

Jason doesn’t retaliate, blinded by a meat of hope dangled in front of him. He doesn’t move as the lower half of his face was exposed, and you lifted your own mask the same using your other hand. Jason willingly, obediently closes his eyes before your lips attached to his — a kiss of death, tasting like blood and cruelty. Warm and soft despite your rough, cold-blooded, corrupted soul. A kiss from the devil.

When Jason opened his eyes, you had already disappeared into the darkness with blood stains on the ground you stood before, a single note left behind; Hell will reopen for the Clown.

After neatly tucking the note inside his jacket and making sure no evidence has been accidentally left on the crime scene, Red Hood smiles for the first time in a long while and reaches for the comms without a heavy heart.

“Batman, I found another body.”

Whatever happens, he’ll have no knowledge of the following misfortune that’ll befall on the Joker. It’s the righteous serial killer’s doing, after all.

What was used to be a maniacal laughter turned into screams of agony and pain. Strong stench of death and blood makes euphoria rush within your mind, the feeling of slicing through flesh with your knife bringing pleasure and ecstasy that made your pants tight. There’s a certain amount of satisfaction in the way your own actions cause serious harm and scarring to criminals who once deemed themselves powerful, being reduced into nothing but a powerless prey that could easily be gotten rid of.

You feel increasingly powerful the more you strip them of their dignity and arrogance as they shed blood on the holy ground. Your existence alone striking them with crippling fear and anxiety feeds into your ego, yet you never stray away from the sole purpose or reason for your murders — making them taste their own medicine.

From what you found on countless deep dive and research, Joker preyed on Red Hood when he was still a young child full of life and joy, having been under the name Robin at the time. Second Robin to be exact, considering he was a lot different from the first one. It actually surprisingly pained you when you’d seen how much of an adorable, dorky, nice kid he was before misfortune cut his life short. You would’ve never thought you would find a kid adorable in your entire life, the little menaces often being nothing more than a headache to be around with that caused a certain dislike to grow towards them within you, but Jason was everything a cute kid was. Just excited to be there, to be fighting alongside Batman, to be relevant.

Such a precious boy ruined for the sake of shits and giggles for the Clown. For the sake of getting under Batman’s skin. And the Bat couldn’t even make fucking amends to his flaws as a father and mentor.

Well, he didn’t need to anymore.

You’ll give Red Hood— Jason Todd —what he wants. Yearned for. Perhaps, even what the other civilians who have fallen victims to this vile criminal want. You would stop at nothing until every criminal is gurgling and choking on their own blood.

Joker’s scream shoots a jolt of electricity within your body as your knife pierce through his skinny thigh and to the ground, pinning his leg down. You had been doing an effective job of reducing the maniac into nothing but a screaming, cowering average victim by torture. Bruises, burns, gashes, and stab wounds littered his body that was done carefully enough to not be life-threatening. Fucker was laughing maniacally at first, of course. It irritated you so much that you might’ve went a little overboard.

Watching Joker heave and struggle to breathe from the pain, you tilted your head and roughly grabbed his throat. It catches him off guard and he grips your wrist, barely even having the strength to fight you off. You’re amused by the entirety of Joker’s nature, how he’s still just an average man that can easily be overpowered — nothing that makes him special enough to not be killed, becoming proof of Batman’s selfish willingness to let the victims suffer than bring them actual peace.

You’ve never uttered a word since you captured him and it unnerved Joker from the beginning, but then, words finally come out of your mouth in a form of monotonous, mechanical, emotionless, eerie voice as you lean over him; “Laugh it out, Joker. Why so serious?”

It sounded like a death sentence.

He’s right in a way, because another of your knife pierced the corner of his mouth soon as you uttered the words. Your other hand tightened on his arteries to choke him while you drag the knife to slit the side of his mouth into a grin, following the lines of his red lipstick. It was certainly not a clean cut, but an artist has their own creative ways to make their art. Tears mixed in with blood that gushes out of his face, complete horrors written across Joker’s eyes which boosts your satisfaction. You go on and do the same thing to the other side of his mouth, before finishing your art piece by carving ‘J’ on his painted cheek.

You resist the urge to moan at the sight of blood coating your fine piece, always finding it to be an amazing finishing touch.

From then on, Joker was brought to literal Hell.

Jason flinches when a playful knock sounded from his safe house’s window, cautiously approaching to see ghostface waving at him through the glass. His eyes widened and immediately opens the window to let you in, not wanting anyone to see you — your sudden appearance distracting him from the fact he’s never given anyone the location of his safe house.

He stops in track at the blood splatters across your mask, and just then had he noticed you seemed to be hiding something behind your back with one hand. It definitely strikes his curiosity, but he somehow didn’t feel like you were holding something that could harm him.

“You got something for me, ghostface?” Jason feels you grin under your mask.

“Got you a present,” Your raspy, rough voice enthusiastically quipped.

Jason’s breath hitches when you show what you were holding — the Joker’s decapitated head in a square glass container tainted by its blood. You obviously had planned to bring it barehand, but you considered the possibility of its blood dripping down on his safe house and becoming a false evidence to point him to the murder, which prompted you to put it inside the container. An unbelievably sweet gesture for a fucking psychopath like you.

Jason could feel his heart beat rapidly as he takes in the animal’s state, carved up grin and the letter J and the horrors seen in its lifeless eyes proving the absolute misery and suffering it went through before being put down. The monster was finally, finally slain and gone forever from his life. Nightmares detangles from his spirit and the past unwraps away from his soul, utter peace and relief spreading throughout his chest. Tears gathered in his eyes at the feeling of being free at last from the life long torment, breath shaking as his knees wobbled.

The child in himself, the innocent Robin that was killed unfairly, finally rests in peace.

Then he sees you, his hero, waving your seemingly new knife playfully in the air with your outfit splattered in blood without a care that you actually saved him, and Jason feels a sudden surge of arousal and will to submit. To give you everything, anything.

“Do you love it, Red Hood?”

Without answering you, Jason grabs the glass container with shaky hands and sets it aside on the counter before stepping back closer to you again, blood rushing to his veins from arousal. He removes his helmet with a thud on the floor and falls to his knees in front of you, lustful and yearning emerald eyes looking up at you.

“Let me thank you, please.”

It makes you groan as your pants significantly tightens more.

You slide your knife back into the holster before cupping his beautiful face in your hands, and thank fucking Heavens there wasn’t any blood on it that would taint his face, because he’s a sight to behold. He’s truly a gem, something precious you had never seen before. “So beautiful,” You whispered, making Jason flush. “Baring yourself to me for such a simple present, doll?”

“Not a simple present,” Jason mumbled as he snuggles on the palm of your hands. “You saved me.”

You hum appreciatively, getting the itch to bare yourself to him as well. “You wanna thank me by what?”

Jason looks back at you, face flushed with a little hint of uncertainty and embarrassment, doubts. “I— uhm,” He stammers, but encouraged by your thumb’s gentle stroke on his cheek. “By… by becoming yours.”

Your cock throbs. Fuck, he’s so fucking adorable, you just wanna fuck his guts out. You’re usually tempted to gut people, not fuck their guts— which is funny to say the least— but you weren’t going to say no when the Red Hood’s so willing to offer himself up.

“You wanna take my mask off, doll?” He seems surprised by your question as if he hadn’t thought of it, making you chuckle. “If you wanna be mine, I gotta be yours too, don’t I?” It was dangerous to reveal your identity to him, but you couldn’t care less, especially when you could just fuck his brains out to shut him up. That’s the plan, first time that didn’t include butchering or cutting a body up.

Jason fucking Todd and his effects on you.

The emerald eyed male hesitantly grasped your mask when you led his hands to it, slowly lifting it over your head. He’s met with a fucking luscious feature to ever be adorned on a man and dark, lustfully murderous blood red eyes that makes a whimper slip past his lips. You merely widened your eyes at the sound he made before immediately grabbing his jaw and smashing your lips against his, swallowing Jason’s surprised gasp.

He reciprocates the insatiable hunger you displayed, tongue dancing along with yours and moaning into the kiss when your fingers lightly tugged on his hair. You pull him up in amidst of making out and squeeze his ass, encouraging him to wrap his legs around your hips. You detach your lips from his to trail kisses down his jaw and neck as you walked towards his bedroom, questionably knowing where it is, and Jason tilts his head back to give you more access with closed eyes. Letting him stimulate both of your restrained cocks by grinding down, you sat down on the bed and sucked on his throat as Jason moaned.

“Please, please…” He whimpers, uncontrollably moving his hips in a perfect rhythm yet he seemed to want something else.

You pulled away and traced his lips with your thumb, watching as he naturally took it in and sucked, giving you a desperate look. Swiftly turning off the voice changer attached to your neck in a form of choker, you chuckled when his hands fiddled with the belt on your hooded coat. “So needy, aren’t you?” Your real voice sends shivers down his spine.

An alluring, low, slightly rough pitch and somehow more emotionless than when you were using the voice changer. It makes his cock twitch and empty hole clench down on nothing, the need to be stuffed full of your cum swarming in his belly. You’re fucking bewitching, a man made up from every guy and girl’s fantasy, wet dream, and your attractiveness mirroring the Devil’s that would tempt and lure others to sin.

How the fuck were you real?

“Speak up, pretty bird.” You smirked, “What do you want?”

“Your cock,” Jason mutters, cheeks tinted in pink. “Wanna suck your cock and make you feel good.”

“Fuck…” You shifted in place, “You’ll do that f’me? Get my cock nice and wet to take you apart? To fuck your guts out?”

Jason shakily inhales and nods, climbing off your lap and kneeling on the floor. You lean back on your hands as he unstraps your belt and slide your zipper down, slightly raising your hips to help him get rid of the excess clothes. Your thick and lengthy cock smacks against your clothed stomach, making Jason’s mouth water. Thick veins throbbed on your big shaft, the tip angry and red from arousal leaking precum. It wasn’t just big, it was long, and Jason squeezes his thighs together to keep himself from just riding your cock all day.

His hand wraps around the base, starting to stroke it with a content rhythm. God, you were so fucking big. It’d definitely split him open if you shove it in so suddenly and fill him up nice. It’d make him scream his head off from the unbearable length and girth, almost too much, and Jason wants you to force him to take it. Pin him down and fuck him despite his pleas to stop.

Jason swipes his thumb over the slit, smearing precum, pumping it for a good amount before licking a stripe up the underside of your cock. You shudder, removing your gloves to slip your bare fingers through Jason’s hair, encouraging him to take you in. He obeys, relaxing his throat first before sliding your cock inside his warm mouth, and you groaned at the warmth that surrounded you. It almost didn’t fit from how big you were, but Jason braced himself and took it in further until he gagged as the tip touched the back of his throat. Wrapping his hand around your shaft that he couldn’t take in, stroking gently as if to apologize.

A moan slips past your lips when he starts bobbing his head, tongue brushing against the underside of your dick. “Fuck… Doin’ so good,” You roll your head back. “Such a pretty face to fuck, ain’t ya?”

Jason whines, tears gathered in his eyes as he sucks and fastens his rhythm. Curses, grunts leave your lips that left him feeling all hot and bothered, his other hand moving to skillfully pull his pants down and free his aching cock.

You see him touching himself and a smirk adorns your sinful face, gently scratching his scalp with your nails which earned you a whimper from him. “Go on, fuck yourself. We both know it wouldn’t fit that easily without proper prep,” Expression twisting into a cocky one, your grip on his hair tightened. “I’ll do as I please with your mouth until you’re done.”

Without waiting for his approval, you roughly shoved your cock deep down his throat and moaned loudly, throwing your head back. Jason gagged with a loud whimper as his eyes rolled back into his skull and cum shot out from his throbbing cock, hips jutting forward and twitching due to the sudden orgasm. You chuckle lowly, amusement and lust glinting in your bright red eyes, before you pull back and ram on his throat again.

Jason’s cries and moans were muffled as you ruthlessly use his throat to gain pleasure. His mind has already turned into mush from your assaults, white cum and precum staining the floor yet he doesn’t put up a fight. Taking it all like the good, obedient boy that he is. He’s reached behind him to insert two fingers in his awaiting hole, walls clamping down on the digits from the arousal of his throat being utterly wrecked.

Yesyesyes, please. He chanted in his mind. Use me, mark me, cum in my throat, make me yours.

The moment you fulfilled your promise and delivered him the head of his enemy, he was already yours. It’s all he ever wanted. Unquenchable thirst that always gnawed on his throat and hunger that left his stomach restless, his soul practically teared in half from being battered and beaten. He matters now — mattered enough to you, that you went ahead and killed the source of his misery. The love exploding in his chest was almost unbearable; he was already high on cloud nine from the moment he’s seen you present the head so cheerfully.

You see how he looks up at you, emerald eyes almost displaying hearts with how much he was melting. He’s taken your murderous act as an affection, and you couldn’t be more happy, because it’s what you intended.

“Shit, baby… Gonna cum soon,” You panted, thrusting vigorously. Jason hums and flexes his throat to provide you more pleasure, making you tighten the grip on his hair. “You want me to cum down your throat?”

You earned a desperate whine from him, closing his eyes to prove he was waiting for it. His fingers kept their own assault on his prostate, scissoring and stretching the squishy walls, muffled moans escaping him.

God, he looked so fucking gorgeous. He’d look even more gorgeous with your dick ramming inside him.

Jason feels your big cock throb in his mouth and his fingers move more aggressively to pleasure himself, wanting to reach his high at the same time as you. Stimulating your tip with the back of his throat a few times, you moaned loudly with a curse when Jason slightly flicks his tongue over your sensitive underside, forcing an orgasm out of your body. White, thick, warm seeds spurt out from your slit to his awaiting throat as Jason whimpered in delight and shot another layer of cum on the wet stained floor, hips thrusting in the air.

He greedily swallows every drop that spilled down his mouth despite the euphoria making him feel dizzy as his body slightly trembles.

You chuckled, breathing heavily, pleased expression spread across your face. “Good boy. That was such a good throat-fuck.”

The raspy, sultry tone of your voice makes electricity and chills run through Jason’s spine as his walls clench down on his fingers, yearning to be filled. Jason certainly doesn’t have a womb — it’s anatomically impossible — yet he couldn’t help but feel like it’s there, waiting and aching to be fucked and bred. He needs your cum to be pushed so far inside him. Need to be marked entirely as yours inside and out. Need you to rearrange his guts, fuck his brains out, breed him full, then fuck your cum further back into him.

Jason pulled his fingers out, whimpering at the loss of contact, before looking back up at you with begging eyes. “Can you-?” His voice cracks as he swallows, “Take me apart, please. Make me yours, fuck, I wanna be yours.”

You noticed tears gathering in his eyes, as if being rejected of his want to be your possession would be an ultimate heartbreak in his life; a life-threatening, gnawing thorn in his heart that’ll tear him apart piece by piece and shredding his soul. Jason thinks he can’t live without becoming yours, his savior’s. He can’t live without the source of his safety, the man that fulfilled his silly little dream and sacrificed his own sanity for it.

It absolutely amuses you that he’s become so attached just because you’ve driven him away from harm’s way. A little dumb, but he was your little dumb doll.

You gently caress his face and Jason leans into your touch, making your lips curl upwards into a smile. “Of course, doll.”

It leads to Jason being pressed face first on the mattress as you rail him from behind, sinful and alluring noises leaving his lips stained in drool. Your name escapes him like a chanted prayer, hands gripping the sheets, electricity sparking within his mind that left him dumb and unable to think coherently.

“Fuh-fuck! mgh, ah- yes, oh my god—!” He cries out when you pulled almost entirely back and rammed your cock roughly into him, almost seeing stars in his vision.

The roughness in which you handled him, the perfect angle of your hips allowing you to force pleasure out of his body every-time you thrust, the way you push his back down on the mattress to make him arch more into your merciless tactic, leaves Jason absolutely delirious. You didn’t just fuck him good; you fucked him with absolute vigor and violence, occasionally biting strongly on his shoulder to draw blood, showcasing your natural instincts as a serial killer. He feels your big fucking dick throb and gets impossibly bigger inside him each time his blood seeps out the broken skin, and Jason’s head spins at how much it drove arousal in his core.

“Good fuckin’ sex toy,” You grunted, roughly slamming your hips against his and causing a sharp moan to erupt from Jason.

“B-big—! s’too big- fuck!” Jason whines, tears spilling endlessly down his cheeks.

You smirk as you feel your ego skyrocket at being able to reduce a rather muscular man into nothing but a whining, blabbering bitch. “Yeah? I do split you open, don’t I? But you love it since you’re such a fuckin’ slut.”

“oh- aghn! y-yours— hnngh! Your s-slut! No one else’s-!” He chokes out, desperately reaching for you behind him.

“So fuckin’ adorable,” You chuckled and grabbed his hand, pinning it back to the mattress as you hover over him. You seem to fit against each other perfectly well, your large and tall body able to encage him that left Jason’s stomach fluttering. He’s taken a lot liking of the fact you’re bigger than him, considering he’s never been the smaller one when he was with others. It gives him a sense of shelter.

“p-please— pleaseplease- oh! cum— fuck… cum in me again!” Jason blabbered.

You can’t help but comply to his request, fastening your pace and drilling more into him. Incoherent sentences spill from his drooling mouth when he feels your cock pulse within his walls that signified your soon release. There’s a purpose in which you thrust your hips now — more sharp and angled yet a little sloppy, aimed to brush against his prostate and make him feel utterly good.

“Shit… Cummin’, doll.” You grunted right in his ear before shoving him on the mattress by the back of his nape and slamming all the way down on his already gaping hole.

Jason nearly screams, voice cracking, as his orgasm hits like a strong tide of wave at the same time you spilled thick layer of white semen into his fucked out guts. You ride out your orgasm by thrusting slowly a few times as Jason’s body violently shakes from the aftershock. He subconsciously whines in annoyance when some of your previous cum seems to overflow and replaced by your recent one, bucking his hips as if to use your big cock as a plug to keep them all in. His belly felt full from how much you’ve been filling him with your seed yet it still didn’t feel enough. Jason wanted more; he knew you weren’t going full on him yet.

You swiftly turned him around on his back without pulling out and kissed him roughly. Jason mewls into the kiss when the position makes you push more deeper into him, his hands immediately clasping at the back of his thick thighs to pull them up and make it easier for you to fuck.

“My cute little thing,” You murmured against his lips and bit the skin to draw blood, Jason’s hole squeezing down on you from both the pain and pet name. He greedily whimpers your name, holding onto you for life and yearning for more of you despite already receiving what he wants.

It was so fucking adorable and arousing to see him desperate for not just you, but your entire being as well, willing to welcome such darkness with open arms and tearful smile. You weren’t really a desirable person; so many people have thrown themselves at you for your conventionally attractive features and masculine body type that swoons hundreds yet cower away in fear and speak of you in disgrace when shown the demons living inside of you. No one could seem to look past your murderous, cold-blooded psychopathy — some have attempted to, which only resulted in your darkness growing bigger when they break their own promises. You weren’t meant to be loved. Your destiny was written in the stars and the Gods have cursed you with eternity of living in loneliness and madness without cure. You were meant to be feared, a lonely and violent soul that couldn’t be tamed, your sole purpose of existence being a destroyer; nothing more or less.

Jason, however, seems indifferent to your fate.

Instead of running away in disgust and fear at your acts of violence around the city, he was seeking for you. He’s seen what you’ve done, what you could do without feeling remorse, what monsters lie beneath your existence — and still, he graciously opens his heart (and legs) for you. There’s love and desire within his eyes where distaste should be, touch so soft and warm it baptizes your tainted skin. You’re soaked in blood yet Jason takes his time with you to clean them up. Born with thorns yet he willingly prickles his fingers on them.

You’re a danger everywhere you go, but to him, you were home.

It makes your heart clench; he’s broken the Gods curse and it costs him his freedom, because now he’s caught up in your webs. You wouldn’t let him go, like a snake that’s wrapped itself around its prey in a death grip.

Jason wanted to be yours. What better ways to fulfill his wish if not possessing his body, soul, and spirit?

“Sweet dumb thing,” You purred, hips thrusting slow and sensual, unable to forgive parts of his walls that weren’t touched by your cum. “Mine to fuck, ruin, or make love to. That’s right, yeah?”

Jason nods, moaning softly. Your hands now replaced where his were on the back of his thighs, bending him almost in half as you roll your hips to gently brush against every weak spot he has. The sudden shift in rhythm and atmosphere confuses Jason for a bit, his fogged mind unable to comprehend the situation at hand, but the intimacy strikes a further pleasure that was nearly mind-breaking. He’s been reduced to a moaning mess, blood, sweat, tears and cum coating his body.

“p-please,” Jason keened, like it felt agonizing to be loved ever so gently. “I— ah… I want- I want you,” He stuttered out between moans.

“You’re having me, aren’t you?” Replying, you nipped on his neck and sucked, leaving behind a purple bruise.

He nearly cries, shaking his head. A waterfall of tears streamed down his face, and you find yourself captivated by them. It was almost ethereal despite being one of human’s responses to most things imaginable; your victims always shed one or two accompanied by begs of mercy, but all you’ve ever thought of them was amusing. It’s been used as an escaping tactic from you before, which was never successful due to your lack of morality and sympathy towards your target. They were pathetic, but Jason was divine. Tears suited him— not tears of fear, but tears of pleasure and utopia.

Your focus snaps back on reality when Jason suddenly pulled you down by the nape and bit down hard on your shoulder. A pleasured groan leaves your lips at the pain, hips bucking, making him whimper.

“Jason—”

“Please,” He cuts you off and finally murmurs; “Wanna f-feel how… mhm-! how you actually love…”

It strikes something in your core. Despite your perfect skills of hiding your true nature and never being caught, Jason saw it right through you, how you were holding yourself back for his sake. Quite ironic to witness a cold-blooded killer care for someone enough to go soft, even though it looked like you were going rough on him, and it warmed Jason’s heart. But he was a greedy, fucked up human being who wanted all of you. It wouldn’t be enough until he knows he’s taken you fully.

An amused laughter erupts from your chest. Eyes darkening in lust, Jason feels one of your hands wrap around his throat warningly as the other pushed his torso flat down on the mattress. “You… You’ll be the fuckin’ death of me, Todd.”

You pull all the way back before ramming in, making Jason let out a loud, choked up moan as his eyes rolled back into his head. Your thrusts relentless and powerful, slamming against Jason’s body with an intensity that made his head spin, your hand holding his throat as a leverage. Your name spills from his lips like a prayer, something that seems to ignite a possessive feeling within you. Jason can’t help but mewl when your grip tightened on his arteries, throwing his head back to let you gain fully control.

The way he’s so obedient and putty in your hands despite knowing you can kill him if you truly meant to makes you love him even more, fucking him and taking away his ability to breathe wasn’t enough. Greediness turning overboard with the darkness and psychopathy that lies within your existence; you almost wanted to cut him open and crawl inside his guts so you could truly claim Jason, inside and out. You wanted to be more closer to him, see how far you can go without Jason pushing you away or getting disturbed.

Jason’s eyes widened when a cold metallic silver touched his cheek, seeing you holding your signature knife through blurred vision from his tears. However, he doesn’t flinch away like you expected him to, instead his walls squeezes down on your cock and his own twitched against his stomach. The unexpected reaction pulls a loud groan out of you, your hips bucking.

“Shit, Jay… You lettin’ me kill you or somethin’? Good fucking cunt just tightened on me,” You rasped, thrusting your cock against his prostate.

Jason gasps, his hands grabbing the mattress and holding it in a tight grip. It’s so shameful how turned on he was at the danger that lurked around you, his usually sharp instincts relinquished to be replaced by naiveté and stupidity for love. He must’ve gone insane; getting killed was one of his triggers because of his past yet his soul yielded nothing in retaliation to the possibility of your blade slicing through him. All of him seems to have come to love and trust you too much just because you’ve decapitated the beast his entire existence feared, which a part of him found utterly ridiculous and idiotic, but not enough to stop.

He wouldn’t stop himself from loving you — not when you’ve given him the love he always yearned for.

You lean in and ghost your lips over his as you dragged the knife on his torso, lightly scraping him. Jason’s breath quickens, his pupils blown wide in lust and need, anticipation seemingly running through his body as his moans turned into desperate whines.

“p-please…!” He chokes out a whisper, rolling his head to the side and whimpering when you snapped your hips warningly on his. “feels— fuck! feels g-good—! c-carve me… hngh! carve me u-up-! shit… make me fuckin’ bleed…! please,” Jason nearly cries for you.

Groaning out a curse, you reflexively bite down hard on the crook of his neck and push more of your cock inside him, causing a loud keen to erupt from Jason as he squirms and cums on his own stomach at the addictive sense of pleasure and pain shooting through his body.

You licked the blood that seeped out from his skin, satisfied at the clear bite mark you’ve left visible before sensually grinding your hips. Jason whimpered quietly, his body still trembling from the aftershocks of his orgasm.

“That’s it, doll. Let go, feel good. m’not gonna hurt ya, sweetheart. It’ll all feel good,” Whispering sweet words, you slowly press the tip of the knife just above the v line of his hip and drag it down. Jason hissed at the prickle of pain and tensed up, but the pleasure of your cock stimulating his sensitive walls was too great that forced him to relax. “It’s alright, doll. Jus’ carving you up with my name, so you’ll be mine forever. Isn’t that what you want? Be fuckin’ mine?”

Jason moaned softly, nodding his head. Series of pleasepleaseplease blabber out of him accompanied by heavenly noises he’s been making since you started taking him apart, his brain too fucked out that forcibly twisted pain into pleasure as all he could think about was becoming yours. You, his savior, his God, claiming him by marking him up with your name. Jason feels like he could fucking squirt from just that thought alone.

His blood seeping out from the letters of your name arouses you to no end, your cock throbbing inside him while you continue to move, the darkness within you being thoroughly fed of its bloodthirsty hunger. This is the first time it doesn’t gnaw at your skin to drive your knife deeper, pull the guts out, and splatter redness everywhere; instead, it wanted to be gentle, as if Jason was a significant existence too precious to hurt even for the Devil. A proof that Jason was always meant to be yours, the only one who the monster inside you would rather love than kill.

Carving the last letter, you laughed breathlessly in satisfaction and stabbed the knife on the headboard before slamming your lips against his, devouring his pleasurable noises. Jason whines, arms wrapping around your neck to pull you impossibly closer, arching his back when you switched into a much faster and rougher pace.

“Cummin’, fuck!” You grunted, to which Jason wrapped his legs around your hips to make sure it stays in.

“I-in— in me… fuck- oh my god— please… please, cum in me. Make me full again, p-please…” He begs, clenching his walls around you to push you over the edge, his own orgasm nearing.

Seeing him covered in his own tears, sweat, blood and drool fills you with nothing but pure ecstasy knowing it’s all because of you. The most appealing, ravishing man being a slutty mess right beneath you, begging to be bred and full of your cum, does feed too much into your ego. No one can do anything to take you away from him now, because you’re wrapped around his fingers as much as he is around yours.

“Anythin’ for ya, doll.” You chuckled, thrusting a couple more times before shoving your twitching cock deep into his guts with a moan and releasing your load. Jason mewls, his hole throbbing and squeezing down on you as he throws his head back, tainting his abdomen once more.

Riding out both of your highs, you let out a raspy groan and kissed his lips again, Jason weakly reciprocating due to the overstimulation. His body trembled hard, mind almost shutting down from the exhaustion and too much euphoria. “So good, doll. Took me like a good fuckin’ boy. Fuckin’ amazing.” You praised.

Jason could still see darkness in your eyes, the murderous devil, but there’s a hint of happiness he didn’t recognize before. Love and adoration filled your expression despite the violence engraved in your soul, and Jason finds himself smiling against your lips lightheadedly.

He whispers your name like a forbidden secret, then a curse that completely binds you to him; “I love you.”

You could get used to this, you suppose. There’s nothing more poetic than violence meeting love — two opposites can’t coexist with each other, but perhaps it’ll be forced to. After all, the Devil in you decided he was an untouchable divinity no one shall ever harm, not even yourself, despite its never-ending monstrosity towards humanity.

“I love you too, my Jason.”

When Joker’s decapitated head on a makeshift spear turned up that night, stacked upright in front of Arkham Asylum with blood splattered across the ground in words ‘True Justice for the Tortured Souls’ and a bloody ghostface mask laid aside for everyone else to see, Jason knew he was now in safe hands.

People say, never make a deal with the devil.

They never said he couldn’t love one, did they?

915 notes · View notes

mothhball · 10 months ago

Text

Positive Reinforcement

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x delusional!Reader (fem)

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, DUB-CON (bc Jon is playing a little hard to get), L-BOMB, fingering, oral sex (both m + f receiving), deepthroating, brief breathplay, mutual body worship, p in v sex, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, overstim, clothed male/naked female, threats of drugging, violence mention, reader is a little unhinged

Summary | You’re convinced he’s the one, but you’ve been causing nothing but trouble for Jonathan. Maybe it’s time to switch up the strategy.

Words | 6.2k

Notes | FILTH. Jon may be ooc, whoops. Honestly, this is very self-indulgent and was a struggle to write lol

Arkham certainly has its charms. From the noisy, dark hallways to the scratchy and shapeless patient uniforms - there’s something for everyone here. As far as you’re concerned, you’re here for no reason. At least no serious reason. You’re a lover and a fighter. Literally just a girl. Even though the GCPD certainly didn’t agree when they arrested you for attempted murder, assault, breaking and entering, and a bunch of other rude accusations.

Your ex broke your heart, so you crashed your car into him in an attempt to get back at him, breaking both his legs in the process. He may never walk again – big deal! A crime of passion, your honor! Revenge for the two years that you’ve wasted on a person, only for him to break up with you once he noticed the tracker sown into the bottom hem of his favorite jacket. Bummer.

But life goes on, and as long as your heart can beat, it can love. And the person who made you believe in romance again is sitting right in front of you in his office, narrowing his eyes as he stares you down over the rim of the coffee cup he’s sipping from. If only you could trade places with an inanimate object. Jonathan Crane in his entirety is worth the stay at Arkham. He’s worth the uncomfortable bed, colorless food and horrible daytime television that’s always running in the recreation room. Who needs freedom when you have love?

Crane was the first to listen to you. The first person to let you speak and philosophize about the nature of your devotion and the way you love people. And he didn’t judge you. At least not out loud.

But now, two months after being admitted to the asylum, he’s grown tired and agitated. Unhealthy attachment and mood-natural delusionships involving someone who wants nothing to do with you. That’s the addition to your diagnosis that Crane is currently rattling off right in front of you, but you’re too busy staring at every detail of his face, trying to manifest his hands on your skin and his tongue down your throat.

“Are you trying to go for a new record in weeks spent in solitary confinement?” Crane sets down the cup to have a free hand to rub his temple with.

The question makes you smile. Oh, he’s always so funny. So charming. But being sentenced to solitude wasn’t the goal you had in mind when you smashed another patient’s face into the cafeteria wall, not easing up until her teeth were scattered around like the shiny pearls of a rich lady’s ripped necklace. Even though you were hosed down by a guard and received a fresh set of clothes, the other woman’s dried blood is still crusted under the nail of your left ring finger. A secret little sign of your devotion. You didn’t do it out of anger or jealousy either. You did it because you knew that Crane would be forced to sit you down for an emergency therapy session. It’s his own fault for reducing your sessions to only once a week.

A playfully coy smile pulls at the corners of your lips, and you lean forward a little, wanting to get a better look at him even though you’ve already perfectly memorized every detail of him after just the first two days of being here.

“She shouldn’t have provoked me. I was defending myself. You understand me. Right, Jonathan?”

You slowly inch your hand across the table, almost making contact with his fingertips until he opts to grab your file instead. It’s a pointed gesture, and you quietly mourn the chance for physical contact with him. Crane clears his throat to bring your focus back to the here and now. And of course, the first thing he does is correct you.

“Whistler?” You furrow your eyebrows. “What does she have to do with this? I thought… I thought you were trying to help me.”

“It’s Dr. Crane for you. And I understand that you have very little self-control.” He pauses for a moment, struggling with a sudden surge of anger before he manages to continue. “I’ll be honest. My patience is wearing thin. You’re a danger to the other inmates, and Dr. Whistler of all people already offered to take you off my hands.”

This revelation makes you perk up suddenly, and there’s a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s thinking of giving you away?

“Yes, emphasis on trying. But as you can see, we’re not getting anywhere, are we? And Whistler mentioned how optimistic she is about your case. If you want my opinion, I think she’s itching to test out some new sedatives we’ve added to the catalog.” Crane adjusts his glasses, and the way he speaks almost makes you think he doesn’t care. But you’re sure he does. Of course he does. He has to. Nevertheless, the mere thought of not seeing him on a regular basis makes anxiety crawl up your spine, and you absently pick at your cuticles until you tear a little too deep, and another line of red pools around your fingernail.

“You can’t do this,” you try to argue, searching your brain for any good reason for him to keep you aside from the fact that you two belong together. You briefly lick your lips, daring to appeal to his pride. “If you hand me off, everyone will know that you failed. They’ll all know that you gave up on me because you couldn’t handle me.”

Crane’s eyes narrow into cold slits, and his grip on your file tightens. Uh-oh. That’s a very ugly expression on your darling doctor. He’s quiet for a moment, silently reigning himself back in. The rage that’s simmering beneath his skin dissipates a little when he has a sudden idea.

Maybe a different approach could work better. Realization sets in, and he almost wants to smack himself for not thinking of this sooner. Evidently, you don't care that much for punishment. Solitary confinement and restriction from activities do little to keep you in check. But how about a different motivation? How about reward?

"Alright, here's what we're going to do. We'll keep up the weekly frequency of solo therapy sessions." He thinks out loud, crossing his arms over his chest and occasionally tapping his fingers on his biceps. You want to voice your protest about not getting more sessions with him, but he continues with this lovely, rumbly tone that he uses whenever he's planning something and getting matter-of-fact with you. It's like catnip for your ears, almost making you melt in your little grippy socks.

"And if I don't hear any complaints about you from the other members of staff, you'll get a reward each time. So, be a good girl for a week and you'll get a treat. Easy, right?"

His eyebrows are raised expectantly as he waits for your reply, and you think about his offer, picking at your sleeve as you weigh out the pros and cons.

"Do I get to pick the reward?" you eventually ask, looking back at him with a glint in your eyes that he immediately recognizes. Crane firmly shakes his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"No. Because I know what you'll choose."

"Then I'm not doing it."

Crane sighs, pulling out his work phone.

"I'll give Whistler a call," he states, concentrating on trying not to smirk at the way your expression falls. Like threatening a child by calling Santa.

"Wait! No, I - ... how about a compromise?" You plead, not missing the parallel either. But if you don't want to settle for coal (or in this case, withdrawal from your man), you'll have to suck it up.

Crane looks up from his phone, thumb hovering over the buttons for another moment before he tucks it back into the pocket of his suit jacket. "A compromise? Doll, we’re not arguing over who does the dishes and brings out the trash. You have no say in this aside from agreeing to either a good or a bad time.”

Damn. Did he have to make it domestic?

“Let me burst your bubble for a moment,” He continues, not allowing you to fantasize over his choice of words for longer than necessary. “You have no power here. No agency, no privileges. You’re not ‘doing’ anything, you’re having things ‘done to’ you. You may think you have me in the palm of your hand, because I’m forced to see you every time you get yourself into trouble, but I could just as well keep you drugged and docile for the rest of your indefinite stay here. So,” he leans forward, resting his palms on the table and clearing his throat.

“No more nonsense. This is your very last warning. If you lash out again, I’ll hand you over to Dr. Whistler, advise her to keep you sedated and move onto other much more interesting and agreeable patients, my reputation be damned.”

The silence that follows his words is deafening, and you can hear the blood rushing in your ears as the air suddenly feels thinner. Tears well up in your eyes. Bitter tears of shame and disappointment, and you feel like a petulant child, but it does nothing to stop them from rolling down your face and dripping onto the table below.

Crane stiffens, visibly taken aback by your sudden display of emotion. He thought he’s seen it all from you. The smirks, the winking, the way you bite your lip in an attempt to seduce a man who’s as emotionally available as one of the brick walls making up this very building. Part of him wants to escape the conversation immediately, but it’s his job to at least attempt to help you through your issues, and leaving you in a state of distress is the entire opposite of that.

“Listen,” he starts, almost tentative. “I don’t want to do any of that. Not really. I want to keep working with you. And I believe you’ve made a little progress so far, but you’d be even further along if you’d stop antagonizing everyone for a chance to speak to me.”

“But I need to. You don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

You sniffle, unable to articulate properly. He should know. He should understand from a single second of eye contact. Yet here you are, forced to spell it out for him. Crane’s eyes soften ever so slightly, and he pulls out a pack of pocket tissues, sliding it across the desk so you can dry your tears. His tone is calmer now, almost gentle.

“Why are you doing this? All of this resistance… the altercations with other patients… your life could be so easy. So why?”

“To make you notice me,” you sniffle, gingerly patting your cheeks with one of the paper tissues. Crane’s eyebrows furrow in response.

“You don’t think I would’ve noticed you without all of this mess?” He tilts his head, slightly amused by your melodramatic performance. You scoff at the question, frowning when he actually smirks at you this time.

“No, you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t notice me if I were a model patient. You wouldn’t spare me a single glance if I was docile like the others… I want you to think about me even when your shift is over.”

Crane shrugs, letting out a sigh through his nose as he does. A corner of his lip twitches, and you can’t tell whether it’s in amusement or disgust. The fact that you tried to manipulate him by being a ‘bad’ patient irritates him, but he has to admit that your strategy worked.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t notice you. You have no idea how difficult and repetitive this job gets… how much the faces start to blur together after a while. You’re not very special at all, if I’m being honest.”

The comment and the monotony in his voice sting, and just for a split second, the mask of sweetness slips to reveal the anger and hurt in your eyes. You quickly manage to reel yourself back in, and you clear your throat as you look away from him. At least he’s being honest with you. The basis of a good and healthy relationship.

“I could… make myself special to you.” A pause.

“Do you think you’re capable of doing that? I mean, so far, you’ve just been causing problems and it’s getting stale. Can you really do something better for me?”

“I can be good… I could show you how I feel for you.” It’s a gamble and you know it. But the possible reward outweighs the risk. At least to your infatuated brain. Crane shifts in his seat, deciding to humor you.

“How do you feel for me? Enlighten me a little bit.”

“I’m in love with you. I love you.” Your sweetheart bristles like a cat, and you feel let down by his reaction. During the countless times you’ve fantasized about this moment in the showers, scrubbing yourself with cheap soap, he was elated by your confession. But the real-life Jonathan Crane just looks at you with mild pity. Pity that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“That was… fast. Didn’t even waste a moment to admit it. But I suppose it’s expected from you,” he sighs, shaking his head as he writes something down in your file. You’re quick to defend yourself. This isn’t a joke to you, after all. You’re laying your heart completely bare, ripping apart skin and flesh to expose the bloody, weakly beating thing to his unimpressed eyes.

“I mean it.”

He lets out a low whistle, and his eyebrows raise ever so slightly. For an agonizingly long moment (about 30 seconds), he punishes your honesty with silence before he finally sets his pen down and looks at you.

“Then do something to prove it.” He says it so nonchalantly. As if he’s not really expecting anything at all. But he’s severely underestimating how deep your devotion runs for him. Your chair screeches across the floor as you get up, and Crane looks alarmed for a fleeting moment before you lower yourself to your knees and crawl under his desk until you come up between his thighs. Your sweetheart’s eyes soften, and he reaches down to brush his fingers through your hair almost instinctively.

“I’ll show you…” you murmur softly, running your hands over his thighs and lightly digging your nails into the fabric of his slacks. Crane lets out a barely audible sigh, shifting a little in his seat to part his legs for easier access. So considerate. Your man really is such a darling.

Looking up at him from beneath the table, you make quick work of his belt and zipper before you pull up his shirt that he kept tucked into his pants. Your mouth waters at the sight of his skin, and you lean in to kiss his stomach while your hand moves to palm his cock through his boxers. Crane hisses softly, keeping his eyes locked on your devoted form between his thighs, and a shiver runs down his spine when you pull down his underwear, exposing him to the cool air of his office.

“God… your cock is so beautiful… you don’t know how long I’ve been dreaming of sucking you off…” you murmur, eyes lighting up as you wrap your hand around him. Crane licks his lips, unsure how to feel about the compliment. You’ve been his biggest headache for months now, and yet here you are, sweettalking him while you’re sitting under his desk with your fingers around his dick.

“I bet you taste as sweet as you look.” You giggle, gathering some saliva in your mouth before you let it dribble down onto his tip so you can pump his cock more easily. Crane’s brows furrow, and you smile up at him before licking from his base up to his tip, causing him to twitch against your tongue. You know he’s always pent up, always stressed, and you don’t really have to worry about him seeking release elsewhere since he’s always focused on his work. And, in some abstract way, always focused on you.

Loyalty. Another pillar of an unbreakable bond.

You can feel him hardening within your grasp, and you swear you can hear an almost silent breath of relief when you finally take his cock into your mouth. You start off slow, moaning at the feeling of his length on your tongue, and you continue to caress his thighs and stomach in an effort to worship him like he deserves.

“No teeth, doll.” He smirks down at you, smoothing his thumb over your cheekbone as you continue to suck the precum from his tip. The taste of him makes your mind fog up, and you nod eagerly, pulling away from him for just a moment to answer properly.

“Cross my heart, Jon.” Your mouth is back on him within seconds, and you bob your head up and down, taking him deeper down your throat every time. Crane hisses in response, and his grip on your hair tightens.

“It’s still Dr. Crane to you…” His protest is half-hearted at best, and you witness his composure crumbling in real time as you suck him off like you’re trying to devour him whole. You’re on a mission. A mission to drive him to the brink of insanity like his mere presence does you. Crane huffs out another sharp breath, and his hips twitch forward, generously helping you to breach your throat barrier and causing you to splutter around him. Tears well up in your eyes, but you stay down on his cock, pushing down all the way until the neatly trimmed hair on the base of his length tickles your nose.

“Fuck… You’re so pretty when you gag on it.”

You pull off of him, only managing to swallow half the spit that gathered in your mouth while the rest drips down your chin, but he doesn’t seem to mind at all. Crane’s hand massages the back of your head encouragingly, and you flash him a bright smile before you go back down at him with a little more vigor.

After a while, you go to catch your breath, but before you can pull away completely, both his hands shoot out to grab your head and push you back down on his cock. Your eyes widen, and you let out a slight noise of protest as he begins to fuck into your throat. Drool dribbles down your chin, soiling the shirt of your patient uniform while your nails dig into Crane’s thighs in an attempt to ground yourself. He clenches his jaw, moaning through his teeth while your throat contracts around him.

“Perfect little cocksucker… so eager to show me your love…” He cuts himself off with a little grunt, and his grip on your head tightens as he moves your skull up and down. “All the way down… yes, keep your tongue out…”

You continue to gag around his length, trying to keep up with the rhythm of his thrusts as he forces his cock down your pharynx, enjoying the way your muscles clench and contract. His soft moans become more urgent, and pride makes your heart swell. He’s making these noises because of you.

“That’s it… good girl. Eyes on me. I want you to look at my face when I cum down your pretty little throat...”

You whine in response, nodding your head as best as you can, and you start to work in tandem with him as he gets close. The moment you feel him pulse on your tongue, he pushes you down all the way again, and his hand reaches around to your face. You catch a dark glint in his eyes when he suddenly pinches your nose shut, constricting your airflow completely as he chokes you on his cock. You struggle against him, but he doesn’t budge as his eyes fall shut and he grunts out more praise. Panic rises in your chest, and your muscles convulse in a desperate attempt to get air into your neglected lungs. And it’s exactly this panic in your eyes that pushes Crane over the edge and he shoots his load directly down your throat, giving you no other option but to swallow the hot ropes of cum that he lazily continues to fuck into your mouth.

Finally, he lets go of your head, and you immediately flinch back to suck in some much-needed air. The both of you are panting, and you keep your watery eyes locked on his satisfied expression while strings of spit still connect your swollen lips to the flushed head of his cock.

“You okay?”

“Yeah...“ you breathe out in reply, trying to swallow the soreness in your throat. Crane’s hand reaches out to you again, caressing your head like a cherished pet, and he chuckles to himself.

“Catch your breath, doll. That was one hell of a way to prove yourself…” He murmurs, reaching across the table to retrieve the pack of pocket tissues and hand it to you. Your fingers are a little shaky as you wipe the mess from your chin and neck, and you slowly return to your chair. Crane’s brows furrow when he watches you retreat, and you blink at him.

Immediately, your thoughts begin to spiral. What are you doing? Sitting back down, that much is evident. Did he want you to stay and keep on sucking him off? Were you supposed to keep the spit on your face intact? Does he – Crane effectively snaps you out of your mental gymnastics routine by brushing his foot against your calf, and you’re immediately focused on the butterflies that fill up your chest.

“What?”

“What are you doing?” He asks, not bothering to elaborate.

“As far as I’m concerned, you behaved very well just now. So, I’d like to keep my word and reward you.”

He points over to the leather couch in the corner of his office, and you find yourself standing before he can even fully extend his arm. Crane follows after you, leading you with his hands on your hips until your knees softly bump against the furniture. He’s pressed up behind you, breathing in the scent of your skin while his hands begin to trail all over your body. You tilt your head back, resting it on his shoulder as his touch slips under your shirt, and you can feel the way his fingers are trembling against your flesh. Crane clicks his tongue as he pinches your nipples, slowly rolling the hardening bud between index and thumb in a way that makes you jolt in his grasp.

“Let me see what I’m working with, doll,” he murmurs, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it aside before the cotton bustier that the asylum provided follows suit. Your first instinct is to shy away, but he grabs your shoulders and spins you around to get a good look at you. His gaze is detached. Clinical. And you can feel yourself shrinking away until he finally decides to open his mouth. “Fucking hell… maybe I should’ve indulged you sooner.”

It isn’t much in terms of a compliment, but to you it might as well be a marriage proposal. Your breath catches in your lungs as Crane leans in, sucking your nipple into his mouth while his hands wander lower to push down your pants and sneak into your underwear. He chuckles when his fingers dip into the mess that has built up between your thighs.

“Did sucking my cock make you this wet already?”

“I mean… it is a pretty cock…” you try to defend your already half-unraveled state, and he lets out a laugh. A genuine one of honest amusement, and the noise makes your heart soar up into the sky.

“Quiet. Lie back on the couch for me, sweetheart.” The new pet name almost makes your body collapse in on itself. Your back meets the cold faux leather, and you let out a quiet hiss of discomfort as you sink a little into the cushions. Crane pulls your pants and underwear off completely, letting them join the already existing pile on the floor before he gets on the couch with you. He grabs your thighs, pulling you a little closer so he can rest your legs over his shoulders while he lies flat between them. His breath ghosts over your pussy, and he spreads your folds open with his thumbs to get a good look at your drooling entrance.

“Pretty… so, so pretty,” he murmurs, kissing up the insides of your thighs before he circles his tongue around your eager hole, savoring your taste with a deep, guttural groan.

You reach out your hand to hold his, but he swats it away, causing you to give his hair a harsh tug when he doesn’t do as you want him to. This, however makes him answer with a rough bite to the meat of your thigh, and you’re almost embarrassed by the wanton noise that slips past your lips. Pain tingles down your spine, and you try to sit up, only for him to push you back down. In a second attempt, you manage to catch his hand and immediately link your fingers together so he can’t escape your clammy, possessive grip. To your absolute delight, he’s not even trying to this time around. You knew he’d come around.

His tongue dances around your dripping entrance yet again, licking a stripe up your pussy that makes your grip on his hand tighten and your toes curl. Finally, finally, he sinks a finger into you, already sliding in to where his digit meets his palm, and he moans along with you when he feels how your pussy flutters around him.

“Jonathan…”

For the first time, he doesn’t correct you. Instead, he chooses to lean in and devour you, eagerly lapping at your juicy cunt as he presses the pad of his fingers against that sweet spot inside of you. He’s insatiable, parting your folds with his tongue and groaning at your taste as you grind your clit against the diligent muscle. And his eyes. Oh, God his eyes. He’s almost crushing you beneath his heated gaze, keeping you pinned while he eats you out like a starved man. Now, it’s Jonathan’s turn to get messy, and he doesn’t mind in the slightest as your saccharine slick coats his chin. He adds another finger into your cunt, pulling away from your clit to bite and suck on your thighs while he stretches you open.

“Fuck – “

“Just another finger, doll. Let yourself go for me…” He murmurs between licks and gentle bites as he returns to your pussy, his glasses fogging up from the heat.

Your hands are still intertwined, even as your back arches and you continue to pant and moan out his name. Even as your breath hitches when he latches back onto that sensitive bundle of nerves. Even when he adds a third finger and you finally come on his tongue with a wail that sounds as blissful as it does delirious.

Your brain is clouded by euphoria, and your bite your lip to keep quiet as he continues to pump his fingers inside of you. You can hear the mess he’s made between your thighs. A mix of his saliva and your juices, and Jonathan is not wasting a single drop of it. Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you only faintly register the little laugh he lets out at your state.

“Christ, I want to kiss that expression off your face… Actually, don’t mind if I do.”

Jonathan leans over you, laughing again when he gets a closer look at your expression. And then months of yearning and dreams of romance become reality when his lips meet yours. Fireworks go off in your head, and you immediately pull him closer, almost causing him to topple over on top of you. It’s messy and overly excited on your part, but you couldn’t care less as your teeth clash a few times and you lick against his tongue and taste yourself on it.

Jonathan pulls back for a moment, despite the vise grip you have on his shoulders, but he calms you by pressing his lips against your brow, whispering like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Easy there… come on, be good.”

You whine in response, but when his thumb brushes over your clit again, your body jolts and you immediately shut up. Jonathan pushes his own pants down further, freeing his leaking cock again and giving himself a few pumps before he pushes his hips forward to coat his length in your slick. Every time the heard of his cock brushes up against you, you let out a soft little noise, and it’s in that moment that Jonathan decides he’d like to hear a lot more of it in the future. He grits his teeth, slowly sinking into your cunt while keeping his eyes fixed on yours.

Once upon a time, you were nothing special. You have an interesting backstory, sure. And your obsession with him does wonders for his ego. But right here, right now, something cracks the stony façade and he silently dares to venture a little further into the dreamworld you’ve built around the two of you. He sees parts of himself in you. The obsessive, volatile behavior. The inability to love in a way that’s considered normal. The desire to possess something or someone in its entirety.

You shiver when he bottoms out inside of you, his hips meeting yours and slightly squishing you into the faux leather cushions of the couch. You’re still tight and sensitive from your previous climax, and Jonathan can feel your pulse in the velvety walls of your pussy that’s clenched around him. Despite your heightened sensitivity, his thumb returns to your clit, rubbing a tight figure eight into it that makes your head spin. His other hand leaves yours, grabbing your jaw instead to keep you from squirming.

“You’re gonna come for me again,” he states, rubbing you a little faster and applying more pressure along with it. Your muscles tighten, and your heart hammers in your chest as you stare up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“C… can you – “

“Move?” he finishes for you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Only if you cum again, I’m afraid. It’ll be another reward.”

You sob out a moan, face scrunching up when that familiar pressure begins to build inside of you for a second time. Jonathan keeps his hand on your jaw, watching every twitch and flinch of your expression with a look of genuine fascination.

“God, why would anyone ever leave you…” he murmurs, and his word pierce right into your heart and the black depths of your lonely little soul. “Pretty thing… if you didn’t break his legs, I’d recommend for him to get a cell on the opposite end of the hall…”

Your breath hitches as he continues to rub your clit and softly speak to you. “Insanity, I tell you… abandoning such a cute toy... It’s beyond me.” He lets out a soft groan when you tighten around his cock. “That’s it… thaaat’s it.”

You reach the edge again, clenching your eyes shut as you come a second time. Jonathan captures your lips with his own yet again, and while you’re stuck on cloud nine, he pulls his cock out all the way only to slam back inside with an intensity that pushes the air from your lungs. You cry into his mouth as he picks up a consistent, slow rhythm of deep thrusts that make your eyes clench shut. Jonathan releases you from the kiss and gives your jaw a little warning squeeze, wanting your eyes to stay on his while he’s rearranging your anatomy with his cock.

“There we go… stretched open so well.”

You squirm back on your elbows, looking up at him with dilated pupils and burning cheeks, but he grabs your waist and pulls you back right to the base of his cock. A truly sinful noise spills from your lips and for a moment you don't even register that it came from you.

Crane chuckles as he starts to roll his hips again, his right hand hovering dangerously close to your poor, abused clit again. A silent threat almost. Then again, he's quite literally threatening you with a good time.

"S'too much...," you groan out, your body rocking every time he spears you open with his girth.

"Shh... no, no.." he tuts, tightening his grip to prevent you from escaping. "You're gonna stay right here and take it. Stay right. Fucking. Here."

Every word he speaks is empathized by a sharp thrust into your drooling cunt, causing you to howl in pleasure and claw at his back. Every nerve in your body is on fire, drowning you in sweet, sweet agony.

"You wanted this, right? For months you've been begging. And now it's suddenly too much?"

You can only nod, babbling some incoherent nonsense in response. Crane lets out a condescending laugh which quickly twists into a moan when you clench around his cock. No matter how much he tries to pretend, he's just as close as you are.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, clinging to you like you're a lifeboat in a storm as he keeps on thrusting into your slick heat.

"So good for me... God, you're so beautiful when you're sweet and obedient... accepting your reward like a good little patient."

You look up at him, trying to focus on his flushed face even though your eyes are rolling back in your head. Crane leans down to capture your mouth in another heated kiss, nipping at your lips and tasting your tongue while he moans down your throat.

The rhythm of his hips stutters when he pulls away to press his face into the crook of your neck, and suck and bite at your skin in a desperate attempt to leave traces of himself.

“Are you going to cum again?” He groans into your skin, flattening his tongue against your pulse.

“N… no…” you whine

“No? This –“ He’s cut off by a moan of his own, and it takes a moment for him to pull himself together to finish his sentence. “This is your reward, doll… We’re going to have to work on – fffuck – on gratitude…”

“I can’t...! Please… please…” you beg, but you’re not sure what you’re even begging for. Certainly not for him to stop.

“You can’t? Well… you’re going to.” His thrusts begin to get faster and more erratic as he tries to fuck into you as deeply as possible “Do it for me, hm? Just for me…”

“No- fuck, please! Jonathan -!!” Tears well up in your eyes from the delicious pain, and you actually scream when he starts to rub your clit again. Colors explode behind your closed eyelids. “Please, please, please- “

“I know you can do it… one more time, doll… Just one more time…”

And you finally do as you’re told, cumming around his cock with an intensity that feels as if someone punched you in the gut. Your brain short-circuits, and you’re not even making noises anymore as he fucks you through your climax like you’re a toy that was handmade for his pleasure.

“Fuuuck – Christ, fuck -“ Jonathan’s voice completely lacks the air of authority and superiority that you are so used to when he whimpers into your neck, his hands tightening around you. It feels like you’re wrapped in cotton, and you can only hear him faintly due to the volume of your pulse that’s hammering in your ears. Finally, his hips still, and he sinks down on top of you as he finishes inside of your fluttering cunt. Rational thought is absent in this moment, and you’re absolutely certain that this is what paradise must feel like. Connected to the one you love so dearly. Overwhelmed by pleasure.

For a long while, the office is silent aside from the rugged breathing that’s coming from both of you, and you bask in his warmth, absolutely content to stay like this for the rest of time. Jonathan clears his dry throat, lifting himself up onto his elbows as he looks down at you, and you’re struck by overwhelming affection once again.

“I love you…”

“Shut up…” But there’s no bite to it. He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, and for a moment, there’s a very real glimpse of fondness in his eyes. Crane stays silent, taking in your features like it’s the first time he sees you properly, and his hand comes up to gingerly trace over your cheekbone and eyebrow before he brushes a strand of hair out of your forehead. Then finally, he lets out a soft breath before he murmurs gently, intimately.

“Looks like I’ll have to come up with more rewards in the future.”

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x y/n #smut #.moth writes

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thealtoduck · 10 months ago

Text

Eye for an Eye

Tim Drake x Riddler Sidekick!Male Reader

Batfamily x Riddler Sidekick!Male Reader (kinda..)

Warnings: Superhero stuff

Riddler Sidekick!Male Reader: Masterlist

Summary: You get another visit in Arkham…

——

The door to your cell was thrown open revealing one of the Arkham guards. You threw an annoyed glance towards him. ”What?” you questioned. ”You have another visitor” the guard said making you confused. ”It’s past visiting hours” you stated but the guard came up towards you and cuffed your hands anyway.

He then led you out of your room and through the hallways of Arkham but he didn’t lead you to the visiting rooms, he led you out of the inmate section and towards the staff section of the Asylum.

You however didn’t question it as you were curious to see where he would lead you. Then he stopped you outside the warden’s office belonging too ”Jeremiah Arkham”. The guard knocked and there came a muted ”Come in” from the inside.

The warden was sitting at his desk but he wasn’t alone, Batman and the Red Hood were also waiting for your arrival. Where was Tim? Had they not managed to save him. ”Welcome Clue, have a seat?” the Warden Arkham said. You did as told. ”You’ve already met our guests, Batman and the Red Hood” the Warden stated.

”I brought you here because they are in need of help as Riddler seems to have taken a hostage” he explained. ”I already helped them they were here this morning” you said. Batman then spoke up ”The Riddler wasn’t where you thought he’d be we need you to help us track him down”.

”I can’t do that from here” you stated. ”We know, we’re bringing you with us” Batman explained. You turned to the Warden and asked curiously ”Really? You agreed to it?”. ”Of course, we need to do whatever we can to rescue that poor hostage” the Warden said.

”And… what do i get for my help?” you questioned. ”Clue, i will personally look to have your sentence shortened” the Warden offered. You nodded and said ”Alright, i’m in” with a satisfied smirk.

——

You, Batman and the Red Hood made your way out of the Asylum. Your hands were still cuffed to make sure you wouldn’t try anything. The two vigilantes led you to the Batmobile. They opened the door to the back seat for you.

You sat down in it and looked around the inside of the infamous Batmobile. As the other two entered you found yourself saying ”This isn’t as cool as i thought it’d be”. ”What were you expecting?” Red Hood questioned already annoyed by your presence.

”I don’t know, just something more exciting…” you told them, they didn’t respond. The three of you sat in silence as Batman started driving, leaving Arkham behind. ”So what’s the plan? Where do we start?”.

Bruce let out a sigh and said ”We did manage to find Riddler or at least a message from him, he demanded you in exhange for Tim or else he’d kill him”. ”So you- YOU lied to the warden, you didn’t need my help, you needed me for a trade” you realised.

Their silence told you that you were right. ”Damn Bats, freeing a criminal, what would the comissioner say?” you teased. The Batmobile eventually stopped outside a telephone booth. Batman and Red Hood got out, Red Hood opened the door for you and you got out.

”What are we doing here? Eddie dosen’t have a lair here” you questioned. ”We know, you’re giving him a call” Batman said pointing at the phone booth. ”He wanted to make sure we actually got you out before he revealed the location” Batman explained and handed you 50 cents and a note with a phone number written down on it.

You entered the phone booth, Red Hood squeezed himself in behind you, creating an uncomfortable closeness. You gave him a wondering look and he said ”Just so you and Riddler won’t plan anything”. You rolled your eyes and stated ”You’re lucky i won’t punch you, i didn’t even let him Tim stand this close to me and we were dating”.

You fed the 50 cents in to the payphone and tapped the number on the buttons, you held the headset to your ear as it dialed. Soon enough someone picked up. ”Batman! Is that you?” Eddie questioned. ”Wrong” you told him. ”Clue!” he exclaimed excitedly.

”I take it Batman got my message, tell him this riddle for to find my location ”I stand tall in the water surrounded by boats of all sizes, what am i?” Eddie said giddily, you rolled your eyes at the Riddle and said ”Come on Eddie, that’s the best one you can come up with, see you at the docks”.

”No you little- Batman was supposed to figure it out, don’t make me regret-” Eddie tantrumed as you hung up the phone. You and Red Hood exited the phonebooth, you turned to Batman and said ”He’s at the docks”.

The three of you got in to the Batmobile and Batman started speeding towards the docks.

——

You found Tim and Riddler waiting for the three of you at the docks. Tim’s body was battered as he was tied to a chair, a bomb strapped to the chair as well. Eddie stood a couple of feet away at the edge of the dock holding the detonator to the bomb, behind him in the water was a speedboat captained by Query and Echo, waiting for the two of you to be able to make a quick getaway.

”Welcome” Eddie said loudly. ”Thank you, Batman and Red Hood for reuniting me with my dear Clue” he tanked them mockingly. ”So here’s how this is gonna play out, Clue is gonna come over to me, we’ll boat away and leave you to rescue Robin, okay?” Eddie demanded madly.

Batman answered with a ”Alright”. Red Hood gave you a little push and you walked forward. You came closer towards the middle where Tim was sat, seeing him like this hurt. You knew you were meant to walk past him and join the Riddler in freedom but you still cared about Tim no matter everything that had happened between you.

You stopped in front of him and got down on your knees, Tim looked at you with a small smile. ”Uhm, what’s happening?! Clue, what are you doing?!” Eddie questioned confused but you ignored him. ”Are you okay?” you asked Tim brushing some hair out of his slightly bruised and dirtied face.

”I’ve been better” he answered humorously. ”Y/n, i’m sorry, i should’ve listened to you when i found Riddler’s plans instead of accusing you” Tim apologised. You cupped his cheeks and placed a kiss on his lips.

”It’s in the past” you uttered to him and remembered something. ”Hey, you know we never got to see that movie after the night at the motel, maybe we could see that together?” you suggested making Tim chuckle and say ”It’s a date”.

You gave Tim another kiss and stood up. ”Gotta go, my boat is waiting, don’t blow up while i’m gone” you said and walked to the Riddler. ”You’ve got some explaining to do” Eddie stated suspiciously from what he had just witnessed.

”Shut up Eddie” you muttered. ”Oh, that’s nice, i rescue you from Arkham and all i get is attitude, not even a thanks!” he ranted as the two of you climbed on board the boat and sat down behind Query and Echo. The boat then sped off, you spared Tim, Batman and Red Hood a glance as they faded in to the distance.

#tim drake x male reader #tim drake x male!reader #robin x male reader #robin x male!reader #red robin x male reader #red robin x male!reader #dc x male reader #dc comics x male reader #batfam x male reader #x male!reader #male reader #x male reader

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strangeshoepatrolbandit · 2 years ago

Text

Batfam x GN!Bat!Reader.

Summary: Bruce had another kid in Arkham asylum that nobody knows about.

Warnings: Murder, Suicide, Arkham asylum, Reader can see the dead, Bruce being a bad father, mentions someone who can "hear God".

Part Two

~☆~

Nineteen.

Nineteen miserable years that you have been alive. Five of which you have spent in the hell hole, that is Arkham Asylum. Thrown in here with the approval of the man known as your father. The man Gotham city praises. The man who does nothing but help those around him, even going as far as adopting a group of orphans. Bruce Wayne.

You had always had an "overreactive" imagination as the people around you called it. When you were around twelve, you started having "outbursts", claiming things that weren't there actually existed, things that happened actually were caused by another being, one that only you can see.

So when your mother was unexpectedly murdered, and Batman walked onto the scene, you told him you weren't even home. But the journals your mother kept that had scribbles all about your claims made them believe it was you who killed her, only, you were believing a delusion, so you didn't remember. Of course you remember, you were out running the streets to get yourself just a scrap of food from wherever you could get it from.

The city wanted a DNA test before they threw you in Arkham, trying their best to put a face to the empty signature on your birth certificate. You could always tell your mother knew who your father was. Her dismissive attitude that presented whenever you would ask gave it away.

When the test came back and told you that you were the Prince of the city's kid, you told yourself that he's unreliable and not to be trusted. Your mother had to have a reason not to tell the man that she was carrying his child. She wouldn't have raised you in your shitty one bedroom apartment for nothing. Maybe she did tell him, and he just told her to get lost?

You just know that as he watched you get dragged away and thrown in one of the most vile places, you had decided that he was the worst thing you would ever see.

He never one visited or called. Even when the DNA came back and he was allowed a short meeting with you, he denied wanting to see you. A far different man than his TV persona.

"This piece goes over there.." A female voice spoke from over your shoulder.

"Thank you, Alice."

"Mhm"

Alice was a nice girl. She had shaved off brunette hair and a pair of strikingly blue eyes. There were marks that stuck to the temples of her head from years of electro-therapy. She had been a patient at Arkham years before you were thrown in. She had even died there. She had whispered a story about her time awaiting her death through her electro-therapy...it was almost the same as the electric chair.

"And this one goes here." A young male who sat in front of you pointed at the puzzle you were putting together.

Mathew. He, too, had dark brown hair and matching blue eyes with Alice. Siblings that came from the same rotten seed. He had killed himself in Arkham after he found out about Alice's death.

Nothing was really wrong with them, they had been transmitted to Arkham at a bad time in the world. The both of them were just severely traumatized and scared.

Far different than Ruby, who claims God was talking to her, but his whispers stopped when she strangled herself.

"They have brownies in the canteen today." Mathew whispered, watching you with his usually wide eyes. The brownies happened to be the only good thing in this entire facility.

"Finally, I've been waiting all week." You mumbled, looking down at the table in front of you.

"Y/N." The familiar voice of Dr. Conley spoke. "It's time."

Wordlessly, you abandoned your puzzle and left your room, following her all the way to the bare office that they would bring the catatonic patients. Your breakdown last week had landed you to not be able to leave the main building.

"Please sit." She instructed you. You did as told and reached for the sickeningly white chair that waited for you.

You watched as she took in a sigh and looked around the room. "I thought you were getting better-"

"There is nothing to recover from." You interrupted her, growing defensive. "I'll name off a patient who died here, and you can go see if you can find their papers!"

You know you should've given up explaining by now. None of them would ever believe you. "Y/N, you know that's not possible-"

"But fucking aliens are!?" Your breathing became heavy as you looked at her.

"Look, Y/N-"

"I want to go back to my room." You mumbled, interrupting her for the third time.

You could hear her sigh yet again before she tried to speak, but you only banged on the table in front of you. "I WANT TO GO BACK TO MY ROOM!"

Dick had been searching through Bruce's at home office for the past few hours. Looking for his adoption papers because of some stupid shit at work. With a sigh, he closed the filing cabinet he was looking in and went to go find Alfred instead.

As he approached the dining room (where he expected the older man to be), he not only found Alfred, but a giant box filled with papers as well.

"I believe you were looking for this." Alfred stated as he turned to look at Dick. "Master Bruce keeps all of your legal documents in a safer place." Of course, he was talking about the other adoptees and blood child that lived in the Manor some point in their life.

"Yeah, thanks, Alf." Dick smiled as he started sorting through the papers. The older man only nodded his head and walked off.

Alright here we go..Jason, Tim, Damian, Jason again, More stuff for Tim, a copy of his own birth certificate, Y/N L/N, Jason- Hold on..Y/N L/N?

Dick had loudly entered the batcave, making a b-line straight for Bruce.

"Who is Y/N?!"

"Wha-"

"Who the fuck is Y/N, Bruce?!"

Bruce let out a sigh as he stepped away from Dick, watching as his son waved a handful of papers in his face.

"Father, what is he talking about?" Damian (who just happened to be in the cave) asked.

"He has another kid- one that he's kept secret!" Dick yelled, looking over at his younger brother. He knows it's not really any of his business, but he can't help but feel angry over how you might have not even existed in Bruce's eyes. "Another ACTUAL kid of yours!" He put emphasis on the 'actual' trying to hint to you being another blood child like Damian.

"Go get ready. I'm calling Tim and Jason." He told Damian, already grabbing his phone from his pocket. Damian hesitantly got out of his seat and did what Dick asked.

"Dick, you don't have to make this serious." Bruce slackly tried to grab for the phone.

"Don't make it serious?!" Dick yelled, shocked at Bruce's words. "They're your kid?!"

"They're a murderer!"

Dick let an ebrupt laugh fall from his lips, slowly lowering the phone from his ear. "Jason's a murderer."

"B-but-"

"Damian's a murderer, Tim's a murderer, I'm a murderer!" He yelled out the last part.

The two of them continued to stare at each other for a few seconds before Dick brought his phone back up to his ear. "Yeah, Tim, I'm here."

~☆~

Hehehhe, just something I came up with. I'm going to post another ArkhamPatientBatkid!Reader later. It's gonna have a different plot and stuff, but it's just stuck in my head.

#batfamily x reader #batfam x reader #x reader #bruce wayne x reader #dick grayson x reader #batfam x batsis #batboys x batsis #batsis!reader #batsiblings #batman #batboys #batbros #jason todd #damian al ghul #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake

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writers-wrongs · 8 months ago

Note

Hey!! Could you please do yandere hc's for Arkham Scarecrow x male reader? God I love me a man with a rotting burlap face 🖤🖤🖤

as do i. tbh, when i was playing arkham knight, id sometimes die on purpose just to see his little taunt thing :P

yandere!arkham!scarecrow x male!reader

-fuck it, im making you crazy. you meet him in arkham asylum, after wandering into his lab once you get out of your cell

-he honestly doesnt have any interest in testing on you, as most people in arkham all fear the same thing: batman. but youre not disruptive, so he supposes you can stay in his lab

-you start asking questions about his toxin, and while he doesnt show it, he really appreciates it. most people dont care about the science behind his work, they just want to weaponize the effects, so its nice to have someone curious about the work hes done

-eventually, he has to go do the "screw with batman and get bodied by croc" thing, so he leaves you behind. and then you dont see him for a long while

-ill be real, i havent played arkham city yet, so we're just gonna skip to arkham knight.

-its just before the attack is launched on gotham, and youre just doing your thing in the city when you get kidnapped. once the sack is finally taken off your head, youre at ace chemicals face-to-face with scarecrow (whos looking a lot worse for wear)

-"ah, there you are. ive finally found you, my little inmate."

-he explains that youve stuck in his mind since that one time you met and he couldnt get you out no matter how hard he tried. he gets fixated on things very easily, you see, and he hasnt been this obsessed with something since he first discovered the wonders of fear. so hes going to keep you secure at his side, whether you like it or not

-if youre ok with this (whether you actually like him or if you just want the safety from all the destruction), hes incredibly doting. whenever hes sitting, youre snuggled up on his lap. whenever he has to go out and leave you, hes got the nicest room he can find in a chemical plant ready for you, with multiple guards keeping you secure. as he works, he talks to you, trying to get all the information he can about you

-if youre not accepting of this arrangement, hes going to be more than a little pissed. you dare deny his protection? why shouldnt he just throw you back out into gotham and let the cloudburst consume you? he wont do that, hes far too invested to let you lose yourself like that, but he might just give you a dose of toxin. and another dose. and another. as many doses as it takes for you to start clinging to him for comfort

-hes not super physically affectionate (mostly bc i headcanon him with chronic pain after the croc incident), but he does love to hold you. seeing you secure in his arms, unable to leave unless he lets you... he loves the feeling of control. as for kisses... he cant do much in that department, since he doesnt really have lips anymore. but occasionally he'll sort of bump his mouth on you, which gets the point across

#writing the wrongs #yandere x reader #jonathan crane x reader #yandere scarecrow #scarecrow x reader

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6rookie-writer0110 · 1 year ago

Text

The days we have at night

Garfield Logan X Male Reader

Request - Garfield Logan x poison ivy male reader, Gar being absolutely mesmerized by how beautiful reader looks.

Garfield is patrolling the city alone and it's a slow night. He is on the roof and he starts to look down and not many people out tonight. Then he heard a loud noise coming from the laboratory owned by Lex Luthor. Garfield transformed into a cheetah and starts to run towards the laboratory. He noticed the fire on the tenth floor, then he transformed into a hawk and starts to fly. Once inside he transformed back to himself.

He walked towards the vault and you turned around. He is smitten by your looks and he gives you a small smile.

“And who are you?” You asked.

“My-my… my well my…”

“Do you have a stuttering problem? You do know they have therapy for that” You said.

You start to walk away then he starts to follow you.

“My name is Beast Boy! But I have to take you to jail” Garfield said.

You smiled and he likes your smile.

“Sorry, but that won't happen. I hate that big companies don't use their resources to help people. So I'm taking it so I can help people” You said.

“What’s your name?” Garfield asked.

You used your powers to control the plants from the lab. Garfield transformed into an animal and starts to rip the plants apart, but you managed to escape. He runs outside to try and find you but you are far gone.

“Damn!” Garfield mumbled.

You got away and you go to your hideout. Garfield can't stop thinking about and that was the first time he met you.

——

Days and nights went by… Garfield kept hoping he would run into you. He doesn't know much about you, the only thing he knows is that you can control plants. Then he starts to think about how to search for you.

“Dick, can I use the bat cave computer to do research on someone?” Garfield asked

“Yeah, sure. Bruce is away so he won't be back until next week but I will let Alfred know that you will go to the bat cave” Dick said.

“Thanks!” Garfield smiled.

Hours later… Garfield went to the Batcave and starts to do research. First, he looked up Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley aka Poison Ivy. She is connected to you then he clicked on your profile. He starts to read your profile and it's kinda long, your picture is on the screen and he takes a picture of it with his phone.

“Who is that?” Dick asked

That made Garfield jump and his heart is racing.

“You scared me!” Garfield said.

“Sorry,” Dick said.

“That is Y/n. I'm trying to find him” Garfield said.

“Why?” Dick asked.

“Why are you here?” Garfield asked.

“I thought you would need my help, but I guess not. Looks like he went to Arkham Asylum a while back but -” Dick said

“I’m done. I got what I need but thanks” Garfield said.

He walks away and Dick turns off the computer. Garfield went home and he is looking at your picture and he hopes to find you again.

✫ ✯ �� ✫

Garfield knew where all the bad guys hang out, but he couldn't just go in. So, he asked for a favor from the bartender and he agreed to it. He told Garfield where you will be next and Garfield knows the place. He starts to get ready then he starts to brush his hair. Now, Garfield puts on cologne that he stole from Dick because he always buys expensive brands. He left and headed to Gotham Botanical Garden and He is feeling nervous.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“To stop you from stealing,” Garfield said.

“I didn't steal anything. I'm just here to take what is mine” You said.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” Garfield smiled.

“I thought you were going to arrest me,” You said.

“I’m here alone. I have been trying to find out because I really like you, Y/n. I was hoping we can get to know each other and stuff” Garfield said.

“Wow, I didn't expect this to happen,” You said.

“It took a while for me to find you. So?” Garfield said.

“Okay, I will go on a date with you,” You said.

“Awesome!” Garfield smiled.

You used the plants to tie him up.

“What are you doing?” Garfield asked.

“I will still go on the date with you, but I couldn't risk you stopping me from stealing,” You said.

You walked by him and took his phone from his pocket. Then you typed in your phone number then put it back in his pocket.

“You should put a code in your phone,” You said.

“Bye, Y/n” Garfield smiled.

You walked away but eventually, the plants let him go.

——

You met Garfield at the carnival. When he saw you, he couldn't stop smiling at you. He did stutter a little bit but you want to get to know him. While walking, he gently grabbed your hand. He is happy that you will let him hold your hand.

“They do sell veggie pizza. Do you like vegan food?” Garfield said.

“Yeah, I have tried a few vegan foods. It's hard to find a decent place in Gotham” You said.

“I know what you mean,” Garfield said.

You and Garfield start to eat the vegan pizza. After that, you and Garfield went to play a few games. You and Garfield get in the bumper cars and you are having fun with him.

Later, you and Garfield went to play basketball. You tried to win a plush shark but you lost

“Don’t worry I will win it for you” Garfield smiled.

You watch him play and he did miss the first shot. But in the end, he did win the plush shark for you.

“Thanks. You are really good at basketball. And I'm having fun with you tonight” You said.

“Me too, Y/n. I'm really glad you said yes to the date. I was so nervous to ask you” Garfield smiled.

You and Garfield are smiling at each other. Later, you and Garfield sat down by the grass to watch the fireworks. He moves closer to you then you felt his lips on your lips. You start to kiss him back and he has his hand on your thigh.

“Do you want to be my boyfriend, Y/n?” Garfield asked.

“Yeah,” You smiled.

He starts to kiss you again.

#titans imagine #Garfield Logan imagine #garfield logan x reader #Garfield Logan x male reader #x male reader #male!reader #male reader #Garfield Logan fluff

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insomanic-fanfication · 2 years ago

Text

🍃🌹The Tower XVI: Bruce Wayne x Male Reader 🌹🍃

The request:'I was wondering if you'd be intrested in a request where either Bruce or Jason fall for Joker's son. Being raised by Joker would be a terrifying childhood. Maybe they do something unexpected like save one of the batfam from an explosion by controlling the flames, a last second decision that gets them hurt instead but makes Joker mad enough to state/imply his son will be punished later?' - @xweirdo101x

CW: Child abuse, normal Gotham violence, Joker being comic Joker, drug abuse (Reader), Mention Abuse, mention of wounds and blood, Unhealthy/ toxic relationship (Bruce x Reader).

Viewers discretion is advised: this is a very heavy fanfication, only read it when you are in the right headspace too. Do not report: don't like, don't read. These type of fanfics can help some people cope with truama. Dead Dove Do Not Eat!

------Fanfic is under the cut------

You weren't actually Joker's son, you were an Asylum baby, meaning you were born in the Asylum from one of the patients. While living in Arkham Asylum, at some point after the events of Jason's torture. Harley still wanted to be a mother figure, hence why everyone calls you the son of Joker.

They made you into their little plaything, forcing you to playhouse with them. You were a god damn adult and yet here you were sitting at a table made of rotting wood with two pieces of insufferable trash. The fake blonde holding your head to her chest while, her "puddn'" tells the events of the day. The action would have been comforting, it would be, if it was a welcomed touch. It wasn't, but at this point you knew, it didn't matter what you wanted.

They had you wear a painted and chipped clown mask to hide your face, you wouldn't complain about this. it's something you can control, of who can know your Identity, your true self. At least they allowed you to paint it how you wanted.

Bandages were another staple of your body. They protected all of the cuts and bruises that were inflicted on you, along with that protection they were sobering reminders of your life. When you did something wrong, Joker would torture you similarly to how he did with Jason, each time you felt more of yourself slipping away. Leaving in it's absents, a sense of hopelessness.

Your screams echoing from the walls, that chased the sounds of bones cracking. The man, your punisher, lecturing you on how, it's your own fault for him causing pain, because you were bad. To remind you that you will always get hit, by the ones who don't get the joke. 'What joke is there?..'.

It was Nightwing that first found you during one of your benders. You were laying on the floor dazed staring at the ceiling, mistaken for dead, if it wasn't for your weak breathing. Syringes with similar greenish residue scattered around the room, a liquid version of the gaseous fear toxin? Your bandages barely wrapped anymore and many of your scabbed wounds and healed cuts visible. Some as new as yesterday and others older than years. Blood dripping on to the floor from the newer wounds, the colour showing you were alive, at least physically.

All you, yourself could register within sensory, was the illusioned world your own mind created with the help of your only true friend. The walls moving like startled bugs, while the floor was trying to swallow you whole. Your head feeling full of cotton. It's hard to feel scared, when this world was better than your own. It's so peaceful, so blissful. You felt water leaking from your eyes, slowly.

Nightwing had no idea how to handle this situation, he has dealt with drug addicts a couple of times. During his career at the Gotham Police Department, though it was always the paramedics that took care of them. The sickening dread growing in volume as his senses take in the room. After some thinking, he comm 'ed for Batman to come to his location, after he left the room, you were in, to wait in the living room of the rundown house.

He didn't want to walk too far away, but he also knew if he wanted to keep himself to together, he had to step back. He thought about talking to Jason first, but snice you were in contact with Joker. Decided against it, as it may end up with a fight or screaming match. Either way, it would make it worse not better.

When Batman arrived at the crumbling tome of the house you stayed in, Nightwing gave him the rundown. He had been looking into reports he found about odd activity around the area. When he saw you enter this building, he decided to wait to see if others would show up. No one did, so he went to investigate, only finding you in a drug altered state barely knowing what's happening outside of the drug trip.

'Have you checked for a pulse yet?', the detective masked tone didn't go unnoticed to Nightwing, 'Uh, no, I haven't. I was concerned if I did, he would attack, and I had no back up. Though, he's still breathing.', the only reply he got was a low grunt of acknowledgment. The Bat's eyes not looking away from the entrance of the room.

'Before, you go in. I feel like I should mention, it looks like he used a liquified fear toxin to get high.', he paused to let the information sink into his former mentor, 'it's odd to say the least'. A deep questioning sigh leaving the bat, himself. 'The fear toxin normally doesn't have that affect, not even to Scarecrow or Joker.'. with purpose of investigating, the older man enters the room.

As Batman's eye scanned the room, his mind was analyzing everything about the situation. The liquified fear toxin, the dried blood splatter on the floors and walls. The blood coated weapons that undoubtably would match some of the wounds on your person. The location and angle of the wounds meaning you didn't do them yourself. It made his nerves stand on end. It was a living picture of past memories.

While crouched, he made it a point to stay at a respectable distance. Gently shaking your shoulder to identify how responsive you were. Instead of an expected attack, the reaction the bat received was a flight response. A trembling man scrambling to the corner of the room. Crying out and pleading, rambles that were barely decipherable.

The only words he was able to make out, were concerning in themselves. Joker, no more, I won't be bad again. Your overall mental distress was more so. The bat dressed hero began his attempts in calming you, all the while feeling his son's eyes on him. Statically, it was unwise to bring you back to the Batcave, instead they chorused you into staying at Dick's apartment. You were still safe, Though Dick was the most feral of the Robins, he had mellowed out tremendously with his new title of Night wing.

In the beginning of your stay, your behavior very much mirrored that of a newly adopted cat. You were allowed anywhere in the apartment, though you mostly preferred to stay in the guest bedroom. Slowly, you opened up, talking more and being more comfortable in the apartment. On the other hand, staying sober wasn't as easy as it sounded, along with unlearning bad habits. Dick and Bruce, on more than one occasion finding food hidden in your room.

A lot of your habits, Bruce has helped with before, though his sons were barely teenagers. While helping you, he was able to talk to you on the same level. Bruce tried to keep an emotional distance from you, the analytical half of his personality, fully aware you couldn't develop a healthy relationship in your state. The softer side of his personality, however, didn't stop your advancements. His emotions auguring that your advancements weren't serve enough, to have you stop them.

They weren't harmful, you weren't trying to seduce him like Cat Women, or Poison Ivy. No, your advancements were more sensual, than sexual. Often being cuddled into his side, your face being buried into his neck. Why should he tell you to stop? For you to close back into yourself? After the years it took for you to become this comfortable around people. No! He doesn't want that to happen, for your progress to decline. You can learn proper boundaries, later on.

Bruce wasn't sure how-to response the first time it happened, it caught him off guard, something very few people could do. Bruce had been visiting the apartment, to log any possible progress from you. The black-haired male, wanting to begin the next steps in your rehabilitation. During a conversation between him, and his oldest son, you had been painting. Some point, within the conversation both of their attentions had been pulled away from you. Only returning, when the feeling of your weight resting on Bruce's side became present.

You had cuddled into him to take nap. The action in itself was simple, however the implications of it was weighed in gold. It meant you trusted him; you find comfort in him. His breathe hitched as his body went ridged, almost as if he was placed into an ice bath.

'He just fell asleep on you, ya know? He didn't stab you.', his son chirped with amusement. The sharp look his father gave him in return, might as well as stabbed Dick. Although, he has seen that look far too many times for it to have an effect. Dick's shit eating grin being apparent of that.

Once it was agreed you were trustworthy enough, i.e. too many of the gremlin children banded together to complain that they haven't said hello to you yet. A visit to the Wayne Manor was set up for you, unbeknownst to you it was actually a test to see if you could handle living at the manor. Snice, the sensory within the manor could possibly be too overwhelming for you. The manor would be better suited for accommodating you, especially with the needed security. That being said, it was only your choice to make and no one else.

As for what everyone thought of you, the opinions were mixed, from some seeing you as a victim, to others seeing you as a threat. Mostly, it was in-between a victim needing support, and someone that should keep distance from.

One of the fully fledged opinions, Jason was enraged just by the fact that Dick got Bruce involved in general, as he sees Bruce as being at fault for you being a victim in the first place because, Bruce let's Joker live. Damin, thinking is black and white, you have hurt quite a few of them during battles, you shouldn't come to the manor, let alone know who they all were. It doesn't matter if you were forced to in his eyes.

That was until they actually talked to you, some of the opinions changed, mostly the more negative ones. Jason couldn't even look at you though, you reminded him too much of what happened to him. The rest in their own ways gave you a chance, or to at least to hear you out.

For the most part, you were glued to Bruce's side like always, either sitting in the chair next to him or attempting to fuse to his side. Tim pointed out to the bat themed hero, that he isn't helping your recovery, if Bruce didn't teach him healthy boundaries. With that in mind, Bruce isn't known for listening to what other's voice to him.

He wouldn't say that he was obsessed with you, he was just protective of you is all. You had been hurt without him, so you need to stay with him for it to not happen again. At least, that's how you understood it, that was your thought process. You needed protection, you needed comfort; Bruce was both within your eyes, your savior.

On the black-haired male's point of view, he was conflicted to the highest degree. He felt it was his fault Joker got his hands on you, it didn't matter that he couldn't have known you existed. It was still his fault! It was another flaw, another mistake for him to stab into his memory. To torture himself, to harm himself in a way no one could stop or detect.

Those were the thoughts whirling in Bruce's mind as he held your sleeping body, his heart pounding. You had voiced how the vast expanse of coldness, that was your Manor room, made your skin crawl with anxiety. To ease your distress, he offered for you to sleep in his room with him, which you eagerly accepted.

Nuzzling yourself close to his person, the scene causing his breathe to catch in his throat. This was far from the first time he shared his bed with someone, though this instance, felt much more intense, more intimate. This trumping even his passionate moments, with that night's wayward lover.

The cold room, shrouded in darkness. Besides the soft bedding, your bodies so close together, indulging in the others warmth. The comfortable silence, only being filled with relaxed breathing. No expectation of a sexual favor, only basking in each other's presence. It was a stark difference; the brooded man wasn't ready for.

Even if he wasn't ready for it, nor saw this blooming within his future. He wouldn't change it for the better, he knew it wasn't his healthiest relationship to date. But it was fulfilling for the both of you, so why change it?

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note: I am very sorry your request turned into this, if you didn't like it. I'm a huge psychological horror fan, and your request gave me feral ideas. I felt That I might never get a chance to put into words again. I'm so sorry this took so long!

Liked what you just read? Please like and Reblog! Check out my blog for similar content like this! I also reblog other Writer's works, so you can check them out too! #Crow!Found!Thing is my personal blog tag for other works I enjoyed from other blogs! #Crow!Writes is my personal blog tag for my original works.

#crow!writes #bruce wayne #batman x male reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #dc fanfic #batman fanfiction #dead dove do not eat

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