#dark!riddler | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

randomcreator-09 · 3 months ago

Text

It's Cuffing Season (Jonathan Crane x Barista!Reader)

(Gif ain't mine > @breakfastonuranus)

>>>MASTERLIST<<<

>>>MINORS DNI<<<

✨NSFW [Stockholm Syndrome (Pretty self-explanatory), Abduction, Chocking, Bondage (cuffing), Oral (M!Rec), DubCon (cnc maybe?), PnV (Wrap it before you Tap it), Breeding kink, Candle Play, Overstimulation, and some other things that I may have forgotten], He fell in love with you but you didn't love him (as much) back so he had to do what any villain would do ^^, Crane's top but a softy his little princess, Crane just loves us~, Yes a lil Fluff and a bit of angst :3, also maybe mention of death (Parents)✨

🐧I'm learning my vocabs on NSFW content XD look how I'm adding up every smut warnings I know XD and it's actually not there XD. Please tell me if those are actually in the story damn :"D. Anyways this fic is for that request made, I hope this satisfies your need :3 cuz it did mine XD Although the phasing might be fast somehow... I tried putting all my ideas in one place heh, I hope I wrote it well :"D also the song comes in my mind as I wrote this is the one above... It's cuffing season~🐧

5K Words (I tried shortening it really... this is the best I could do ack)

Now... enjoy you mentally ill people (like me XD)

KINDLY REBLOG TO REACH MORE PEEPS ^^ (also heart it if you love it ^^ tnx)

-----

"Jonathan Crane!" you screamed to the top of your lungs as you read the order name on the cup. Looking around to see if anyone would answer to that name, and there he came.

A man in his well-tailored black suit, accompanied by his brown vest and black tie. A divine for any lady to look at, but for you it was the last thing you found interesting about. You didn't have time to swoon over men right now. Tuition at your college was more than the budget your parents left you before passing and you had to work your ass off to get through. Plus this business was not running well (your parent's business) so you had to do what had to be done, work to the bones.

"Thanks, Miss?" he muttered as he grabbed his drink from the counter and looked you straight in the eye. He had ocean blue eyes that were accessorized with his rectangle cut glasses which made him look more heavenly. His lips pursed and cheeks well contoured, anyone could really just fall in love with this man with one look, you thought, but not you.

You were making the next order as you spoke, "Y/N" you said without thinking of anything, flashing him a quick smile before returning to getting busy.

He smiled back, but you didn't see that as you busied yourself. He nodded before leaving the store. It was sunny that day, a busy day in Gotham City. People out and about, havoc on the neighboring store and policemen drinking their coffee in your store, this was Gotham City, bow.

-----(Jonathan Crane POV)

As Jonathan walked through the streets of Gotham City, he smirked. 'Y/N's hands were on this cup' he thought smiling to himself, as he sipped through the lid. It has been long since he was obsessed with something, not to mention someone other than Batman.

He first saw you on the day havoc happened at your store, a burglary. He was in line to order his usual coffee, clearly pissed at how the line was moving slowly when three masked men came in pointing guns at your employee. It was his first time seeing you then, the owner of the café.

You came out with a nonchalant look as you came from the back kitchen and pointed a loaded shotgun at the masked men. "Out" was the only thing you said as the masked men went running (unfortunately their guns were empty and were just actually toys). He was amused how you knew their guns were empty, even then, you exuded confidence in what you did that day, something Crane found fascinating.

From then on he went to the café from day to day (if he had the time even hour by hour). When you weren't there he would just walk away with nothing in hand, but when you were, he'd order everything on the menu to keep you standing there picking his order from the glassed window, to see your cleavage creeping out your tight V-neck shirt, as his pants would feel tight with his bulge poking it. He really should do something about his obsession with you he thought.

And think he did. He has planned to abduct you and manage your dead parent's business while you were gone, so you'd call him a 'good boy' after manipulating your mind to love him. He planned on paying for your tuition after it too! He has spoken to your school's board to give you a scholarship already (to which you declined because the head of your college was known to give scholarships to people he'd like to fuck). He had a room for you in his apartment already, complete with all the clothes you have in your own small apartment (with extra touches of clothes he likes to see you in... such as expensive lingerie and such).

'Just you wait my love' he thought as he kept the empty cup to his stash of cups with your handwriting on his office desk drawer. 'you will be mine soon', as he closes the drawer shut with a bright smile.

-----(Your POV)

You breath was a mess, your memory a foggy one, as your vision went on and off.

You only remembered the dark night enveloping the streets. As you closed the shop early today (because one of your employees had midterm examinations and you had too), you were out at the back of the shop throwing the heavy bag of trash to the bin when your sight turned dark.

In panic, you tried to fight the four arms that kept you from removing the bag over your head to no avail. Screaming was useless in Gotham, so you didn't try to do so. They guided you up in a spaced van and tied your hand back, they were being rather careful with you, you thought. Like a porcelain from china being transported to the England museum.

Before you know it you were dead asleep, as you inhaled funny smelling air (sleeping gas you presumed).

Minutes passed by as your vision went on again. Seeing that handsome blue-eyed man smiling at the sight of you, and your out again.

-----(Jonathan Crane's POV)

'She's here!' Jonathan's mind was in haywire. He was excited as he saw you being ushered in his apartment by two of his men. However his smile faltered as he sees your wrist red from the rope tied around it.

"Fuck! I told you to be careful with her! You fucking dimwits!" he screamed as he trashed around his living room, throwing anything he saw to his men. "Sorry, Sir Crane, she was a feisty one you see-" he shot the man, he had no time for explanations. "Get out of my sight" he glared at the other who ran out.

Jonathan kneeled down to untie you and remove the black bag over your head. Oh, how majestic you looked sleeping, he could stare at you forever, even maybe when the two of you are old, he smiled at that.

"Welcome Home, Y/N" as he kissed your forehead before carrying you princess-style to your new room.

-----(Your POV)

As you blinked your eyes, adjusting to the light of the room. You finally see the room you were in, it was not your room. Panic consumes you as you realize there were shackles on your wrist, chained to the bed.

You couldn't possibly scream now, since you didn't scream earlier where it could have been evident. You just observed the room, looking for something to get yourself free. The room was in your favourite colour, shockingly it made you more at ease than panic. Some of your missing favorite clothes were on the open closet as well, with boxes of maybe new clothes. Pair of shoes and sandals that screamed 'expensive', you thought of the possibility that maybe a girl abducted you, but some of them were visibly your size.

Before you could find a way to escape the door creeks open. You close your eyes to pretend to be sleeping, but the person to open it doesn't seem to buy it.

"Oh Darling, I mean no harm," his deep voice echoes the room. You closely open your eyes to see the same man that goes to your cafe shop and only ever smiles at you.

"You!" exclaiming as you squirm through the chain to fight him. He rushes to you as he places a tray of food on the floor. "Darling, Darling Angel calm down my Love. I am here to protect you from this dangerous world, I am your only hope in this dark world. By the time everything is in havoc, you are safe here." as he tries to sooth you, patting your head as he sat beside your bedside.

"Fuck You, Jonathan!" you hiss at him, remembering his name as he was always in your cafe, in which he chuckles. "I believe that's not how you thank your saviour love," his voice in a darker tone than earlier as he stands up and picks up the tray of food, placing it on your lap. "Now, I will remove the cuffs on your wrist and you eat peacefully without fighting your savior or..." he pauses as his fingers tickle your wrist and moving slowly to grip on your neck ever so softly "... We do it the hard way and I might punish you, which, believe me, you might even enjoy, Y/N" as he smirks at you.

It took all in you to not tear up then. You prayed to God that this was just a sick dream and that you fainted from overworking, but it wasn't. As you feel his hands tighten their grip making you look at him, you suddenly drown in his ocean-blue eyes. If you weren't a busy woman and had time to date you'd probably dated him before, but this was sick, something you never thought a man with such a political figure like him would do.

Kicking the tray of food to the floor, you squirmed again, the cuffs tightening with your every move. Swearing to his face that you will never cooperate with him and he can kiss your ass. He laughs at that, he stands up after releasing your neck as you gasp for air. He then cleans up your mess and closes the door with a rather loud bang. As you cried in the room, waiting for the inevitable 'punishment'.

Hours has passed and the room turned dark along with the night creeping in the room. The door creaked open, slow and deliberate. Your breath hitched as the sound of footsteps filled the room, heavier this time. Jonathan Crane appeared once more, but now the light was dimmer, casting flickering shadows across his face. In his hand, a single candle burned, the flame dancing in the darkness.

"You seem to have a lot of fight in you," he murmured, setting the candle on a nearby table. "But I wonder..." He trailed off, his voice low and taunting as he approached the bed, pulling a small chair closer to where you lay cuffed. "How long will that fire last?"

He dragged the chair, its legs scraping against the floor, and sat down. His eyes gleamed with a sick curiosity, studying your every move, every breath. His fingers hovered over the flame, feeling its heat before he slowly turned his gaze back to you.

"You know, fear has many faces," he whispered. His hand, now inches from your skin, tilted the candle slightly. A bead of hot wax dripped, falling closer... closer...

"Please..." You whispered staring at the falling bead of wax rolling down the candle.

The first drop landed just above your stomach, the sting sharp but fleeting. You flinched, a hiss escaping your lips. Jonathan smirked, leaning forward. "Fear, pain... they blend together. And soon, you'll understand just how much I can make you feel."

The next drop fell, then another, each landing with precision, calculated to push you further without overwhelming you. Every slight movement you made only caused the shackles to tighten, reminding you of your helplessness.

"You will cooperate," he whispered darkly, "whether you like it or not."

The steady drip of hot wax continued, each drop sending a fresh wave of stinging heat across your skin. You couldn’t help it—you began to squirm, the restraints digging deeper into your wrists as you tried to twist away. Your heart raced, fear coursing through every vein.

“P-please,” you gasped, your voice shaking as you felt the heat of the wax inching closer to your chest. “Stop, I—I can’t take it.”

Jonathan’s eyes flickered with amusement, his lips curling into a smile that sent chills down your spine. He tilted the candle just enough to let a few more drops fall, ignoring your pleas. "Begging already?" he teased, the sound of his laughter dark and unsettling.

You squirmed harder, desperate to escape the pain, but there was nowhere to go. The shackles held you in place, trapping you in his game. "Jonathan, please!" you cried out, your voice breaking. "Stop, I’ll do whatever you want, just—please!"

He stood up then, towering over you, his eyes cold and devoid of mercy. "Do you really think begging will change anything?" he asked, his voice dripping with mockery. He leaned down, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “This is only the beginning.”

He chuckled, low and menacing, as he straightened, letting another drop fall from the candle with eerie precision. “I want you to remember this moment. Every time you think of resisting me... every time you think you have any control.”

You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as the heat burned into your skin again. His laugh echoed in your ears, cruel and unrelenting, as if your suffering was nothing more than a twisted form of entertainment for him.

"You’ll break," he said, his voice eerily calm. "And when you do... you’ll beg me to continue."

Your body trembled under the growing layer of hardened wax, the pain numbing into a dull throb as you finally broke down, tears slipping down your cheeks. Sobs wracked your chest, your will shattered as you lay helpless beneath him, the hot wax pooling in small rivers over your skin, solidifying into painful reminders of his control.

Jonathan finally paused, watching the tears fall with a look of satisfaction in his cold eyes. He placed the candle back on the table, its flame still flickering faintly. His gaze drifted down your body, where the wax now covered your skin in thick patches. He licked his lips, the silence between you heavy with unspoken tension.

Your eyes flickered downwards, catching the unmistakable bulge in his pants. The air shifted, heavier now, as he undid his belt with a slow, deliberate movement, the metal buckle clinking softly in the oppressive quiet.

His voice was low and dangerous as he looked down at you. "You've been such a defiant girl, Y/N," he said, his tone almost casual. "Now… you’re going to make it up to me."

He tugged down his pants, his eyes never leaving yours as he stood there, commanding and unyielding. "I think you know what comes next," he murmured, stepping closer, your eyes never leaving his as you tried to keep it there. "And listen very carefully—if I feel your teeth, you'll wish I had only used wax." you gritted your teeth as he aligns his length to your lips, making you look at his pink veiny cock.

He leaned in, grabbing a fistful of your hair to force you to meet his gaze. His grip was firm, but the smirk on his face was even crueler. "Now," he ordered, his voice deepening with lust. "Take me. And don't make me regret giving you this chance."

As you slowly opened your mouth to accommodate his grit. He slowly moved in your mouth. Soliciting a quiet moan out his lips as he slowly thrusts in and out your mouth, hands still tangled on your hair. "Good... Good girl," he hissed as his head bobs back from pleasure.

Tears ran down your cheeks as your throat chokes on the tip of his cock. Shackles still on your wrist as he slowly picks up his phase, making you squirm again, moaning at how his restless speed in your mouth made you feel soaking wet down below, bucking your knees together to create friction.

His speed was ethereal now, you hesitated, your throat tightening as you leaned forward, but Jonathan’s grip on your hair tightened, his warning clear in his eyes. You started, gagging slightly as he pushed you to take him deeper, but there was no room for hesitation. The pressure built, and just as you choked, he pulled back slightly, his hand flashing across your face with a sharp slap.

"Don’t stop now," he growled, dragging you back roughly. The force left no room for escape as he pushed you to take him fully, his breath quickening, his control slipping as you obeyed, doing your best to keep up. His pace quickened until the tension broke, and you felt him reach his climax.

"Ah! Fuck! Fuck! Take it! Take it, love!" Jonathan groaned, his body shuddering with release as he rutted into your mouth, the taste of him thick on your tongue. He held you there for a moment longer before finally pulling away, leaving you gasping for air, your throat raw and your body trembling.

Silence filled the room, broken only by the sound of your heavy breathing. Slowly, Jonathan's hands moved to the cuffs, undoing them with a gentleness that sharply contrasted the earlier brutality. As the restraints fell away, your sore wrists ached from the pressure, but you barely registered the pain.

“Shhh, it’s alright now,” he murmured softly, easing your arms down to your sides as you panted weakly, exhaustion washing over you. He wiped the sweat and wax from your skin with a damp cloth, moving with surprising care as he cleaned away the hardened remnants from your body. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he wiped the corners of your mouth, his fingers brushing lightly against your lips.

“You did so well,” he whispered, his voice now gentle, devoid of the harsh edge it had held moments before. “You’re perfect.” His words were soft, almost affectionate, as he covered you with a warm blanket, tucking it around your body as if wrapping you in a cocoon of safety. "My fucking perfect angel." as he kissed your forehead.

As your eyes fluttered closed, too tired to fight sleep, Jonathan leaned down, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Rest now. You're mine, and I’ll take care of you," he whispered, stroking your hair soothingly until you finally drifted off into unconsciousness.

-----(Months after abduction, Batman is dead)

You couldn’t help but laugh quietly to yourself as you gazed out the window, your reflection staring back at you. Months ago, you had cried endlessly, resisting every touch and command Jonathan gave. Now, those tears seemed so distant, almost laughable. The ‘punishments’ he promised had turned into something you craved—each session pushing you to new heights of pleasure. And afterward, the aftercare was so tender, so sweet, you had never felt so wanted. So cared for.

He had taken over everything: your safety, your business, and even your education. Your café ran smoothly under his careful management, leaving you to focus on finances from the comfort of his condo. The outside world? It felt foreign now, just a backdrop beyond the glass. Here, with him, was all you needed.

The door clicked open, and you immediately recognized the soft footsteps crossing the threshold. You didn’t turn around, but you could feel his presence before he even touched you. Jonathan was back.

A pair of arms wrapped around you from behind, his grip firm yet gentle, pulling you against him. “How was your day?” he murmured into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. You leaned back into his chest, feeling the weight of the day fade away as you melted into his embrace.

“Hard,” you groaned, thinking about the lessons. The professors he hired for you weren’t easy, and today had been especially draining. “College was hard... why do they make it so difficult?” (The professors came to the apartment, Jonathan doesn't want his princess to walk or drain herself to go out).

Jonathan chuckled softly, his hands trailing up and down your waist and hips in slow, soothing movements. "Difficult?" he whispered, pulling your head back gently so that your lips were inches from his. "I’ll have to deal with that professor, then... make sure they know better than to push you too hard."

Before you could respond, he captured your lips in a kiss, his grip firm as he held you in place. The tension melted from your body as you sank into him, the world outside completely forgotten. The kiss was slow but possessive, his lips claiming yours with an undeniable hunger that left you breathless.

When he finally pulled away, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice was a low, commanding murmur. “Let’s go upstairs.”

You nodded, your body already responding to his words, anticipation building as he guided you up the stairs to the room, knowing exactly what was coming next.

As you reached the top of the stairs, Jonathan didn’t lead you toward his room. Instead, he pulled you toward yours. The familiar space, the one place that was entirely yours within his domain, now felt smaller with him so close. The moment you entered, he pressed you firmly against the wall, his body pinning yours in a way that made your breath hitch.

His lips captured yours again, more intense this time, his hand snaking around your waist as he deepened the kiss. You could feel the controlled desire in the way he held you, as though he was fighting to maintain his composure. When he finally broke the kiss, his eyes darkened as they roamed over you, a quiet hunger simmering beneath the surface.

With deliberate slowness, Jonathan reached for the silky coat draped over your body, sliding it off your shoulders with one fluid motion. The fabric fell to the floor, pooling around your feet, leaving you standing there in the black lingerie you knew he adored. His breath hitched, his eyes widening ever so slightly as he took in the sight before him.

The lingerie clung to your curves, the sheer black fabric leaving little to the imagination. Intricate lace patterns adorned the cups, framing your chest in a way that was both delicate and provocative. Thin straps crisscrossed over your torso, highlighting your waist, while the sheer fabric cascaded down, barely covering the tops of your thighs. The black lace was cut in such a way that it hinted at more, teasing him, daring him to explore further.

Jonathan’s breathing became shallow, his eyes locked onto you as if he were seeing you for the first time all over again. "You really do know how to get under my skin," he murmured, his voice hoarse as he stepped closer, his hands tracing the outline of the lace. “You wore this... just for me?”

You nodded slightly, your skin tingling under his touch. His fingers trailed along the delicate fabric, his restraint faltering as he admired every inch of you. "Good girl," he whispered, the praise low and possessive, sending a shiver down your spine.

Without breaking eye contact, Jonathan leaned in again, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that made your heart race. This kiss was different—fiercer, more demanding—as he poured all his desire into it. You melted against him, feeling the weight of his body against yours.

In one swift motion, he removed his vest and necktie, letting them fall carelessly to the floor. The smooth fabric of his shirt clung to his form as he slipped it off, revealing the taut lines of his chest and arms. Your breath caught at the sight, his body a perfect blend of strength and control.

Before you could fully process what was happening, he took your wrists, binding them together behind your back with his necktie. The gesture was possessive, a reminder that you were his, and the thrill of being restrained sent a rush of excitement through you.

With a gentle push, Jonathan guided you back toward the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. The moment your back hit the mattress, he hovered above you, a predatory gleam in his eyes. He leaned down, pressing soft kisses along your abdomen, trailing up to your neck, where he nibbled lightly, teasingly, as if savoring every moment.

“You have no idea how perfect you are,” he whispered against your skin, each word laced with fervent desire. He continued kissing his way back to your lips, his voice low and filled with promise. “I could breed you right now, make you mine in every way.”

His lips found yours again, deeper and more passionate, as he whispered more pleasurable words that made your skin tingle and your body ache for him. “You were made for this,” he murmured between kisses, his hands exploring the curve of your waist, igniting a fire within you that was impossible to ignore.

As Jonathan continued to kiss you, his hands roaming your body, you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you. Your knees began to buckle, the sensations overwhelming as you squirmed beneath him, searching for more friction, more connection. Each subtle movement sent sparks coursing through your veins, and you could feel the heat pooling low in your stomach.

Jonathan noticed immediately, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. He pulled back slightly, his eyes glinting with amusement and desire. "What do you want, love?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, relishing the power he held over you.

You bit your lip, your breath coming in quick gasps as you looked up at him, eyes filled with need. “Please,” you begged, your voice trembling with urgency. “I want you... I need you to take me.”

His smirk widened, satisfaction radiating from him at your plea. “Is that what you really want?” he taunted, leaning in closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. “To feel me inside you?”

“Yes! Please, Jonathan,” you begged, the desperation in your voice making it clear just how much you craved him. You felt vulnerable, yet utterly alive, and the anticipation sent a shiver down your spine.

“Good girl,” he murmured, leaning down to capture your lips again, the kiss a mixture of passion and possession. “I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

With a low, sultry laugh, Jonathan’s hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness. You watched, breathless, as he pulled his belt free, the leather falling to the floor with a soft thud. Next, he unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down his hips until they pooled at his ankles, leaving him clad only in his boxers.

He stepped closer, the heat radiating off him as he locked his eyes onto yours. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through you, the air thick with anticipation. “Now, tell me again,” he said, his voice a deep growl, “What do you want?”

Your heart raced, the need for him consuming your thoughts. “I want you, Jonathan,” you replied, your voice a soft plea. “I need you to take me, to claim me as yours.”

"Fuck," he says with a low growl, Jonathan removed his boxers, exposing himself fully as he stepped closer. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, the intensity of his gaze sending a thrill through you. As he aligned himself with your entrance, he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “You were just made for this, weren’t you, love?”

Without warning, he pushed into you hard, filling you completely. A gasp escaped your lips, a mix of surprise and overwhelming pleasure as he bottomed out. You felt him stretching you, the sensation igniting a fire within you.

“Jonathan,” you moaned, your body arching to meet him as he began to move, he placed his arms behind your back as he thrusts deliberately and powerful. The world around you faded away, leaving only the rhythm of his body against yours and the electric connection between you.

His thrusts became faster, harder, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You could feel your climax building, as his thumb drew circles on you clit, the tension coiling tighter with each movement. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You feel so good around me.”

As you neared the edge, he leaned down, kissing you deeply, swallowing your moans as you spiraled into your first climax. Your body quaked, waves of ecstasy washing over you as he continued to thrust, riding the waves of your pleasure.

“Look at you,” he growled, watching your face with a predatory gaze. “So beautiful when you come apart for me. I want to see you do it again.”

The words sent another shock of pleasure through you, and you felt yourself approaching another orgasm. Jonathan picked up his pace, his hips driving into you relentlessly, urging you closer and closer. “Come for me again,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “I want to feel you clench around me.”

With a final thrust, you tumbled over the edge again, your body quaking as your second climax took you by storm. You cried out, a mixture of pleasure and desperation, and Jonathan’s grip on your hips tightened as he surged deeper.

“Fuck, take it!” he groaned, his own climax building as he thrust into you one last time. “Take my fucking seed, princess. Be filled with my seed and carry my child, angel.”

As he released himself deep inside you, you felt the warmth spreading, a final wave of bliss washing over you. Screaming as the world blurred at the edges, leaving only the two of you in that perfect moment of connection, pleasure, and possessiveness.

As the tension in the room began to dissipate, Jonathan huffed and puffed, catching his breath. He looked down at you, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “You’re absolutely perfect,” he said, his voice low and warm. “The way that lingerie hugs your body, it was made for me. Your breasts bounce just right for me to enjoy.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your skin as he pressed gentle kisses to your breasts, savoring the way they felt beneath his mouth. Each kiss sent a thrill through you, and your breath hitched, the sensation making your heart race. You loved being worshipped like this, the feeling of his admiration washing over you, igniting a fire of desire deep within.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with reverence. He pulled back slightly to admire the way the lingerie framed your figure before carefully removing himself from you. You felt a rush of emptiness at his absence, but he quickly set to work, cleaning you off with gentle hands, his touch almost reverent.

After making sure you were taken care of, he leaned down again to press a soft kiss to your lips, lingering just a moment longer. “Such a good girl,” he whispered against your mouth, his tone affectionate and possessive. He reached behind you, deftly untying the necktie that had bound your wrists, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you.

With a smile, you wrapped your arms around him tightly, relishing the warmth of his body against yours. “How was your day?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“It was long,” he replied, nuzzling against your hair. “But coming home to you makes it all worthwhile.”

You both lay back against the bed, the night wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. As you nestled into his side, the warmth and safety enveloping you made you forget all about the world outside—and the circumstances that had brought you together.

In that moment, it felt like everything was perfect, just as it should be, and you let the worries of the past fade away into the night, content to simply be with him.

-----

🐧Damn... Rollercoaster it was to write this XD I hope it gave off Stockholm syndrome aha :"D Anyways I loved Jonathan Crane on this fic :"3 his the possesive I need >:D but at the same time its kinda... lovely how he abducted us like we were a stray cat and never letting us go out but also respecting our privacy by having his own room too. Yeah he has his own room but he comes to yours becuase he likes sleeping with you better. Anyways hope you enjoyed it hehe ^^🐧

Tags are in the comment

256 notes · View notes

cillianmesoftlyyy · 2 months ago

Text

Moth to the Flame Pt. 1 | Dr. Crane x Reader

summary: Dr. Jonathan Crane isn't the only 'crazy' in Gotham City and he's about to meet his match. When confronted with an unpleasant secret from his past, he's skeptical to trust the strange young woman who calls herself Victoria Vale, the rightful heiress to Arkham Asylum (and maybe his downfall).

warnings: none yet but oh baby just you wait...

A/N: I really enjoy using the original DC comic lore so if you've been following me for a while, you'll recognize the backstories in this but I've tried to make a completely different plot line.

bury a friend- Billie Eilish 🎶

“Professor Crane?” You poke your head into the small office, the heavy door slightly crushing your body against the doorframe. The raven-haired man looks up from a stack of research papers on his desk and cocks an unwelcome eyebrow.

“Come back during my office hours.” He waves you off with his free hand as he grades a paper with a red pen. His voice has the strange ability to both attract you and put you ill-at-ease at the same time. You step inside and let the heavy door close behind you. You don’t need to lock it, yet. Dr. Crane looks you up and down quickly, his lip curled in displeasure and disinterest.

“It’s a quick question, I promise sir,” you lie through your teeth, your dimples showing beneath your full cheeks as you smile. Dr. Crane looks up at you from over the rim of his harsh rectangular frames. He stares at you for a moment, his blue eyes shifting as he thinks, then finally he sighs and sits back in his desk chair.

“What’s your name?” He removes his glasses and wipes the lenses clean with the corner of his suit jacket. He puts them back on as you sit down opposite of him, the desk between you. You glance down at the research papers, an action that is barely noticeable, if at all.

“Victoria,” you answer and watch as Dr. Crane sighs again, impatiently. He rolls his eyes after a moment of silence and leans forward, gesturing his hand through the air to get you to continue.

“What did you want to ask me?” He asks pointedly, losing whatever patience he had left.

“Well we’ve spoken once before but it was just a brief exchange after one of your lectures,” you start and Crane watches you, barely paying attention now. His eyes seem to glaze over. “I asked you about the chemical components of fear. I’d like to hear your answer.” You say slowly, your hands playing with the edge of your seat. Dr. Crane barely cocks his head to the side before he clucks his tongue and looks away.

“Did you not like the answer I gave you before?”

“I’d forgotten what you said,” you explain as you wipe your clammy hands on your thighs. Dr. Crane threw his gaze back to you and raised an eyebrow, his expression one of obvious judgment.

“Fear is an emotional response to a threat. It’s a basic evolutionary survival mechanism. The two primary parts of the brain that deal with fear are the amygdala and the hippocampus…” he answers dully, regurgitating what every psych student already knows.

“Respectfully, sir,” you start, your voice steady, “I’m talking about the chemical components of fear, not the anatomical.”

Dr. Crane regards you with an unreadable expression and then removes his glasses, sighing deeply again. He looks down at his glasses and then clears his throat.

“You’re interested in fear chemistry, are you?” His tone is low and dry, like he’s mocking you.

“Interested isn’t exactly the right word.” You answer with a small shrug.

“What is the right word then, Victoria?” The way he says your name is sharp, like a door closing when you aren’t expecting it. He finally looks up at you again.

“I’m…” you search for the right word and then wet your lips, “... attracted to the concept of fear. It’s almost like a passion project that can’t be satisfied.”

“Attracted to fear?” Crane repeats slowly, though his face doesn’t change.

“Fear is one of the most fascinating phenomena in the creation of our universe, don’t you think?”

Dr. Crane regards you differently, his breath shifting to a new rhythm. He wets his lips before he answers, his words measured.

“One could debate that. I’d say pleasure or desire are more complex and powerful. Why fear?”

“It’s the power of control over both the mind and body,” you respond without batting an eye.

“Is it power that fascinates you, Victoria?” Crane asks softly, his hands clenching and relaxing in his lap. “One could say that pleasure can have a similar effect.”

You allow yourself to blush, knowing it’ll look more believable if you do. “Well, it’s also about control…”

Dr. Crane looks down at his hands again and thinks for a moment before responding, his voice still calm and even despite the shift in the room.

“Do you find control attractive?”

“Well, don’t you? Isn’t that why you became a teacher? The role gives you control over the development of new minds,” you smile sweetly.

A rare smirk creeps across Crane’s face. He looks up at you and puts his glasses back on, the silver frames catching the light of the fluorescent bulbs.

“You’re very perceptive,” he trails off and folds his hands on the desk in front of him. “Control is a powerful and attractive aspect of fear.”

“And what’s so fascinating about fear specifically is that it is universal. Everyone has something that they’re afraid of… even you. And that’s what led me to ask myself this question: what are you, Professor Crane, afraid of? And for the life of me, I can’t figure it out.” Your eyes meet his with an obvious change in intentionality. Crane doesn’t react but feels himself leaning forward slightly like a snake rearing its head.

“I have a few guesses but it doesn’t matter for right now,” you continue when he doesn’t respond. “I read your old thesis about fear in mammalian species and it’s given me a lot of insight into my own mind.”

“You’ve read my thesis?” Dr. Crane cocks his brow again and grips his hands together painfully. His body goes cold in warning like a lightning rod in a thunderstorm. “Most of my students barely attend class, much less decide to read my work.”

This is the moment. You lean forward slightly, your hair falling off your shoulders, your eyes wide with excitement.

“Oh, I never said I was a student, Professor Crane.”

Dr. Crane freezes, his cold heart stuttering in his chest. He swallows slowly, trying to collect his thoughts before he responds.

“Then who, may I ask, are you?”

“I attended one of your lectures on radical treatment of phobias, which is where we spoke for the first time, and yes, I did sit in on one of your classes and left with additional reading materials and a better appreciation for your work. Your thesis however,” you tilt your head away in a show of shyness, “that’s available for any ‘crazy’ to find.”

“Mmm so, you’re just a ‘crazy’ then?” Crane hums cooly, “But that still doesn’t answer how you managed to get a copy of my thesis. It was pulled from circulation and all hard copies that I was aware of were destroyed.”

“I’m good at getting answers and it helps when people find you attractive…” you shift in your seat, looking away. You can feel Crane’s eyes on you as he considers your answer.

“And I guess that means you think that I find you attractive?” Crane guesses cooly, his eyes not leaving your face. You look back at him and take note of his guarded expression. Taking a breath, you fix your hair and meet his eyes.

“I think you’re attracted to my mind.”

“Who are you?” He asks again, leaning closer against his better judgment, like a moth to the flame.

“I’m surprised you’re so unconcerned with my presence here, late at night when everyone else has gone home…” your posture is rigidly still as you speak. Dr. Crane smirks softly.

“You are a very beautiful and intelligent young woman, and you don’t look very dangerous to me. Why would I be concerned?”

“Because I think I know what you’re afraid of, doc.” You whisper and Crane freezes again, his heart jumping in his chest at your thinly veiled threat. Despite his feelings of unease, Crane smiles. He studies your lips as you speak and the way your body is angled towards him.

“And what is it that I’m afraid of?”

And just like that, it’s become a game.

You smile a little, wanting him to feel safe and comfortable. He isn't intimidated by you yet and you want him to take you seriously. You lean closer, ducking your head in a whisper.

“Being found out…”

“About what, pet?” Crane asks pointedly, in a challenging tone.

“Well…,” you sit back in your chair casually and tuck your hair behind your ears. “I’ve always had a natural inclination towards crime. That’s what made me become a detective. I thought what I wanted was to restore justice in Gotham, but I’ve quickly learned that justice is a jealous mistress and maybe my interest in crime has other motives… Are you following me so far?”

Dr. Crane massages his mouth with his hand, listening intently. His lips are pursed beneath his fingers, his eyes void of any telling secrets.

“So far,” he sighs.

“You and I share something very important. It’s made us both who we are today. I just realized it before you did.”

“Oh? And what do you think we share?” He furrows his brow skeptically.

You stand and brush the hem of your dress over your thighs. As Crane watches you, you trail a finger over the books on your bookshelf, stopping at one and pretending to read one of the pages.

“Thomas Wayne.”

You toss the book in front of him on the desk. The book is open to the author bio. It’s a picture of your parents, the authors of a book on criminal psychology. The Arkhams.

"These are my parents. My name was Victoria Vale when I was born. Thomas Wayne murdered them and they put me in an orphanage. I didn’t know they were my parents until I started looking into the Waynes. And then I found you…” You keep your story short and to-the-point, not wanting to reveal too much. Dr. Crane looks between the photo and you, his brow furrowed as he works it all out in his head. Maybe for the first time in his life, he finds himself speechless.

“So you really are crazy, aren’t you, pet?” He covers the shaky tone of his voice with a sneer. You ignore him and close the book, pushing it aside on the desk.

“Tell me, what did Thomas Wayne do to you?”

Dr. Crane looks up at you and scoffs. He removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and his thumb until the pressure between his eyes fades.

“And why would I tell you that?”

“Because I already know the answer, I’m just giving you the opportunity to say it.” You lean against the bookshelf and cross your arms over your chest. Dr. Crane regards you with suspicion and shakes his head.

“You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” You bite back. You stare at each other, eyes narrowed and blood pumping. Dr. Crane finally sighs through his nose and puts his glasses back on. His eyes bore into you, punishing you for asking him this question. He holds your gaze with a mixture of pain, bitterness and cold rage. He speaks as if the words are acid in his mouth.

“Thomas Wayne destroyed my family and my childhood. He was a ruthless and cruel man and I’m glad he’s dead.”

You stare back at him and notice the original tension between you changing, shifting as your power shifts.

“Then we’re kindred spirits, you and I. It was only a matter of time until I found you, the famous criminal psychiatrist with-” You lean over the desk, looking directly into his eyes,” startling blue eyes.” You take a breath before continuing, not waiting for him to respond.

“Because I’m a good detective, not like any of my ignorant male peers, I looked into a string of unusual robberies and I noticed that most of Falcone’s men were being moved to Arkham Asylum… on your orders.”

Crane is silent for a moment, impressed by your intelligence and deduction. He feels his heart starting to pound a little faster again. He does not deny it, but doesn’t confirm your suspicions either.

“I may have had some influence in those transfers.”

“Don’t worry, Crane, I’m not here to cause trouble for you. I just wanted to meet the man I’ve admired for so long and see if I can be of some… help.” You smile and pass your fingers over the research papers organized across the desk. You’re catching him off guard on how well you know him and he can’t tell if he likes it or not. His eyes flick across your face again, taking in the sight of your dark eyes and darker eyelashes.

“You admire me?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“How does a young, beautiful girl like yourself become so interested in a man like me?” Then he pauses and wets his lips before adding with a smirk, “why, exactly, do you admire me?”

“Your work, it’s impressive. And what can I say… ” You look back up at him with a serious look on your face as you drag a finger across the research papers, pulling out a piece of scratch paper. “I like your style.”

On the corner of the paper, there is a drawing of a scarecrow. You drag it slowly across the desk until it sits in front of Crane on the desk. You don’t need to say anything else. He looks down at the drawing, swallows, then looks up at you.

“Stop acting dumb, doc. I know more than you think. Like I said, I’m good at finding information and sticking my nose into places where it may not belong.”

Crane’s pulse quickens at the edge in your voice, his fingers reaching for and clutching the paper tightly. He wants to be irritated, but somehow you’re bringing out a different, a darker and playful part of him.

“Once again, you’ve proven yourself to be a very observant and talented young woman. Maybe too talented. I think you’re too dangerous to keep around my office, Miss Vale. You’re a liability.”

“What are you going to do to me, Crane? Are you going to use your… little fear toxin on me?” You smile, leaning further across the desk where Crane hasn’t moved from his seat. He looks up at you, smirking slyly.

“Maybe I will.” Dr. Crane starts to stand, and when he does, he’s taller than you but not by much. He isn’t a very tall man, you could easily take him if you needed to. You’re still separated by the desk but you’re close enough to smell his cologne.

“Impressed by my skills of deduction?” You ask, clasping your hands behind your back.

Crane walks slowly around his desk to stand in front of you, looking you up and down intently. He tilts his head to the side, his voice distant and distracted.

“More than a little impressed, yes. You’ve figured out an awful lot about me in a very short time.”

“Now don’t you want to know why I’m here? Your survival instincts are annoyingly slow, Crane,” you tease.

Crane bristles, displeased with your slight to his intelligence. He crosses his arms over his chest and sits back against the desk, clenching his jaw. “I would love to know why you’re here. You’ve been very coy about that point.”

You nod and move away from him to continue looking at the books, organized meticulously on the bookshelf. “I have a proposition for you. I want to be… business partners.” You can see Crane watching you from out of the corner of your eye. Crane chuckles a little, stunned.

“Business partners, huh? And what exactly would that entail?”

Crane’s eyes sweep over your figure again as he imagines what kind of ‘business partners’ he’d want to be.

“I’ll help you with your grand plan for Gotham and in return I get two things…” you keep your eyes on the spines, your fingers following the edges of each book.

“Mm?” Crane hums, listening carefully now that you have his full attention.

“1. I get to lead beside you when you successfully turn Gotham upside down and 2. I get what’s rightfully mine… Arkham Asylum.” You turn back to look at him, refusing to be intimidated by him even when he looks at you like something he’d like to eat.

Crane’s eyes widen and he almost starts to laugh. His navel warms, aroused by your attitude and threats. He chuckles softly and moves his hands to grip the desk on either side of his body.

“Gotham city flipped upside down, and Arkham Asylum in your hands. Your terms are surprisingly bold, Miss Vale.”

“What can I say, Crane? I’m in the business of retribution.” You shrug, not backing down.

Crane chuckles again and shakes his head, “Touché.” He imagines himself pinning you against the bookshelf and feels himself get hard just at the thought of it. He watches you closely, noticing your unwavering resolve. “And how can you be sure I won’t use my toxin on you?”

It’s your turn to laugh now. You smile and step closer to him, meeting his cool eyes. You let your eyes look him up and down, admiring the way his lean body hides beneath his expensive suit.

“I’ve prepared for that possibility… but I like playing with fire.” You pull a lighter out from your pocket and strike a flame. It glows between your faces.

Crane smiles in amusement at your audacity then his eyes dart between your face and the flame separating the two of you.

“You are playing a dangerous game, Miss Vale.”

“My favorite,” you respond coolly and play with the flame in your hand. Crane’s eyes follow the flame and he swallows. “So? What say you?”

He should stop you, he should kick you out of his office and ignore you, but the fire in your eyes and the confidence in your words makes him want to take a risk. He reaches out quickly and takes hold of your chin, tilting your face up so that he can see it clearly. His voice is a low whisper.

“You’re a dangerous little thing, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” You snap the lighter closed and tuck it into Crane’s breast pocket. “Regards from Thomas Wayne. I thought you should have it.”

Crane looks down at the lighter, dropping his hand away from your chin. His eyes dart back to your face, assessing the weight of your words. Your demeanor is cold and almost amused. Crane swallows, his skin growing cold where the lighter now sits.

“Where did you get this, Miss Vale?”

“Not only do I want what’s rightfully mine, you deserve what they took from you too. Think of this as my promise and a peace offering.” You pat his breast pocket, your face getting dangerously close to his. He flinches when you touch him and clenches his jaw. He looks down to your hand patting his pocket and raises a sharp brow.

“And you’re willing to help me get my revenge?”

“It would be mine too.”

“Against Thomas Wayne?”

“Against the whole city… but especially the Waynes.” You whisper, managing to take a step closer. Crane chuckles, admiring the way your eyes darken when you speak so severely. He leans down a little closer to your ear, his breath ruffling your hair.

“A pretty, vengeful vixen. I’m starting to like you, Miss Vale.”

“Now, now, now-” You push him back with a sly smile, your teeth showing, “We’re business partners, not fuck buddies. You’ll need to behave yourself if you want to make this work.”

Crane actually laughs, though the sound is raspy and dark, it’s still a laugh. He allows you to push him back and holds up his hands in mock surrender, sitting back on the edge of his desk.

“Feisty. Ok, I’ll play the part. No need to worry, Miss Vale�� though the thought is… tempting.”

“Not intoxicating? I’ll just have to try harder next time,” you smile as you pull on your coat from the chair. Dr. Crane watches you from his desk, his eyes following your arms as you slide into the quilted coat.

“Oh you know exactly how intoxicating you are. Don’t be coy, Miss Vale.”

“Maybe I’m just a Jack of All Trades,” you shrug and move to the door. Crane crosses his arms over his chest again and nods slowly.

“Yes, I’m starting to see that now. You’re full of surprises.” He can’t help but look you up and down again, his eyes lingering on the shape of your thighs or the angular way you hold your head. He wets his lips, wetting his pallet.

“Well, here’s another one,” you smile, fully aware of his arousal, “Falcone was taken into custody today. Someone, and I’m not saying who, may have given him a razor blade. He’ll need a psych evaluation and you need to be the one to do it. I don’t trust him to keep his mouth shut if this goes to trial.”

Crane raises an eyebrow, impressed by your thoroughness.

“Falcone in custody. Hmm. A razor blade? What a coincidence...” he starts to wonder exactly how far you’re willing to take this revenge of yours. He can feel himself getting excited in more ways than one.

“You’ve got the right idea, Miss Vale. I’d be more than happy to take over his evaluation.”

“Good. I’ll arrange for you to administer it between your lectures. You’re such a busy man. Professor by day, psychopath by night. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve made a lot of sacrifices,” he answers cooly, calmly, “As have you, it seems.”

Something passes between you, something shifts once again in your eyes.

“Goodnight, Dr. Crane.”

You start to leave but turn around briefly to speak, your eyes growing softer. You’re actually capable of feelings too, not just well-worded threats. “Don’t lose the lighter… it’s the one he used…”

You leave the sentence in the air between you, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. Dr. Crane seems to freeze again as he processes what you’re saying. He puts his hand against his breast pocket to feel the outline of the lighter. He clenches his jaw and finally nods.

“Goodnight, Miss Vale.”

You nod once and open the door, pushing against its heavy weight.

“I’ll be in touch,” you say over your shoulder and Crane fixes his glasses.

“I’m sure.”

Only when the door closes behind you and you’re walking down the dim hallway do you allow yourself to exhale. Dr. Crane was so much more impressive in person… and so much more attractive. You had almost faltered on your plans until you remembered how much you needed him, and how important it was that the two of you meet. Though you must admit, acting unbothered has never been harder. You run your hand through your hair and slip out of the science building on campus. You’re wearing a quilted coat, more for professionalism than warmth. It’s late Spring in Gotham and it’s too warm for a coat. In fact, there’s a heatwave coming in the next week. But you keep the coat on because the color is dark, helping you blend into the shadows of every building in the city.

The moment the door closes, Crane finds himself almost unable to breathe. He’s nearly shaking and feels strangely off-balance like you’ve completely turned his world on its head. He walks back around his desk to his chair and slowly lowers himself into the seat. He exhales shakily and pinches the bridge of his nose above his glasses. Part of him wants you, the other part wants you gone. With a sigh, Crane pulls the lighter out of his pocket and places it on the desk, looking at it while his thoughts run wild.

You hadn’t needed to say the words for him to piece it together: this was the lighter that Thomas Wayne used to kill his mother, and by extension, his father. The knowledge of what you’ve given him finally sinks in and he takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching again. He feels a cold shiver rush over him, a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once. He can’t tell if he wants to cry or scream or laugh. Crane reaches out and grabs the lighter, his knuckles turning white. He thinks of you, of your audacity to crash his carefully constructed life with your own plans of revenge. He plays with the lighter, his lips pulled into an unhappy snarl. But the longer he thinks about you, the more he feels himself growing to like you. As much trouble as you could cause him, he liked how fast you thought on your feet and how good you looked in that dress.

Hours seem to pass before he can slowly regain control of himself enough to clear his head a little. He’s trying to understand you… he wants to trust you but there’s a very loud part of his mind that’s screaming not to. He can’t deny the fact that you’ve completely enthralled him, in fact, the thought of seeing you again makes his heart pound in perverse excitement. He tosses the lighter back on the desk and runs a hand over his face.

“Damn you…"

177 notes · View notes