#female reader x Cillian Murphy

[cherrycranes]

Observed (Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Judge Jonathan Crane x Fem! reader Summary: You just moved to this fancy building and your serious neighbor invites you for a cup of tea... At first... Word count: 4,749 Contents: (Minors DNI) Drink spiking (aphrodisiac), light dom/sub, degrading, spanking, p in v, unprotected sex, ass play, orgasm denial, creampie. Author's notes: A new collab with bestie @fuckiingloser! Enjoy cause we've been thirsting for Crane lately. At the end you'll find a playlist to set the mood for this specific fic made by yours truly and a Pinterest board made by @fuckiingloser!

Things had finally improved with you this past year. Your poorly paid job as a waitress was finally replaced with something that gave you much more money than what you were used to. Sure, being a stripper wasn’t exactly a career your family would be proud of, but it showered you, quite literally, in cash. The most exclusive strip club in Gotham had been so generous to you, you easily moved out of the east of town into a safer, wealthier area on the other side of the city. A nice apartment in a high rise condo much better than anything you had before.

It was definitely an adjustment, to say the least. In its pristine, minimalistic halls you stuck out like a colorful, almost nouveau riche thumb. No wonder you hadn't talked with your new, snobby neighbors yet. The most you got were dirty looks in the elevator or the hallway. Everybody could see right through you.

Even then, you tried to not let that get to you. If you could pay the rent, you belonged there, plain and simple. So you settled in. 

It was a Friday night. Surprisingly, you didn’t have to work, instead you filled your time unpacking some things and procrastinating on the rest in favor of some trashy TV. Three knocks on your door snapped you out of it. A few packages you were expecting laid on your doorstep to your surprise. You had imagined those would be delivered to the lobby. 

You brought them in. The first three matched in name, address and expected contents, the last one, however, was addressed to somebody else. A neighbor who seemingly lived right across the hallway from you but you had never met before.

Dr. Jonathan Crane.

Of course, you had to return it. You slipped into a pair of shoes and walked the small distance between your front door to the apartment number read on the package. You gave it a few knocks and right after, the door opened. 

Now, you had definitely seen him before in the hallways, and even shared a silent elevator ride with him once, but it never crossed your mind that that would be Dr. Crane. He was attractive. Beautiful, in fact. And up close he was just a visual delight. The most mesmerizing pair of pale blue eyes, plump pink lips and soft chestnut brown hair faced you from just a few inches away. Had it not been for his serious, nerve-altering flat facial expression, you would have continued in the trance his beauty put you under. 

“Hi… I’m your neighbor down the hall and I think I got your package by accident and brought it inside my place… Just wanted to return it to you...” Your voice gained enough strength the more you went on, but the slight unease didn’t disappear until his handsome features softened a bit.

Doctor Crane opened the door a little more, just enough to receive your package, his calloused fingertips lightly grazed your hand and sent an unintelligible feeling through you. 

“Ah, well thank you for returning it…” His voice was just as attractive as him. Warm, clear, elegant. No trace of any particular accent that could give away his origin and open him up for a more meaningful small talk.

“Of course, what kind of neighbor would I be if I didn't?” You smiled kindly, a spark of the desire to stop being rejected by your neighbors obvious to his eyes and ears. He smirked, the kind of smirk a scholar would give to an open beginners book of a subject he mastered.

“Well, it was nice to mee-” You swallowed the rest of your words when Doctor Crane cut you off. 

“I was actually just about to have a drink. Would you like to come in and join me as a thank you for returning my package?” His voice was monotone, ascetic. No hint of the ulterior lust you were used to from men. It honestly seemed like a great effort on his part, he didn’t appear like the kind of guy who enjoyed company. 

Before your lips could mouth an automatic rejection, a rush of thoughts crashed over you. He was a stranger but he was also your next door neighbor. You were bound to see him frequently, in the hallways or the elevator. And if he was the only one in this building who didn’t look at you like you were trash, it wouldn't hurt to accept his offer. Could it? 

“Sure, I'd like that.” You replied softly and he let you in. Your eyes widened at the sight of his apartment that was easily triple the size of yours and had multiple floors. It was difficult to believe this was in the same building, less right across from you. You had your little newfound money but this guy was definitely loaded. 

He led you into what looked like his study, a dark, minimalistic place filled with books neatly arranged in their bookshelves, a handful of framed diplomas and expensive furniture that appeared brand new from how little they must have been used. You took a seat on the leather chaise lounge armchair in the middle of the room, taking in the environment.

“Anything in particular you would like to drink?” Doctor Crane asked cooly. Fitting. He walked across to the well stocked small bar he had there, actually ready for anything you desired to drink.

“I actually don’t drink alcohol…” You started, and he was a little shocked for a split second before returning to his serious but oddly kind expression.

“Interesting… How about some tea then?” He suggested, and that suited you just fine. He asked you how you liked your tea then disappeared out of the room and into his kitchen, leaving you alone.

The dark foggy Gotham City skyline stared right at you from the big window, droplets of water ran desperately down the glass thanks to the hard rain outside, usual for this time of the year. As you kept clouding your mind with remarks about the weather, the vastness of the city and your neighbor’s way of living, he returned with your tea, sitting in the chair right across from you and handing you your cup.

“Sorry I'm not really dressed as fancy as you…” You apologized with a faint laugh, your simple tight v-neck long sleeve and your pair of black leggings stood out in comparison to his suited form.

Doctor Crane smirked very lightly, pale blue eyes analyzing your form as if he had just noticed it was there. Your neck, cleavage, visible nipples, thighs and legs laid under the microscope of his mind, and it was much more strange than the filthy looks of desire men would give you. Even in the strip club, with you barely clothed, you felt less exposed. You took a sip from your cup, hoping that the rich flavor would wash away the feelings that look from him provoked in you.

“I've observed you have a rather strange schedule… always coming and going late in the night…” His voice was so casual, so deadpan, as if he had only commented about the rain outside. You nearly choked with your tea. Observed?

“Well, my job just has different hours-“ You swallowed hard, playing the “pretend you’re not a stripper” game you sometimes played. 

“And what is your profession?” Crane insisted not even a second later, his crystal blue eyes bearing into yours and fanning the spark. You felt speechless, helpless. Why did he care so much? And why did you like it so much?

You took another sip of your tea, wondering just how appropriate it would be to tell the truth and weighing how hard it would be to upkeep a lie. Ultimately, you decided to be honest.

“I'm actually a dancer…” You said bluntly, preparing for the common shock the people you did tell always had upon their faces, and getting surprised when he showed none. There was an awkward pause in the silent and dark apartment only interrupted by the distant thunder outside. You continued to drink, your anxiety finishing with the rest of your tea and placing the empty cup on the coffee table, accidentally depriving you of something to fidget with. Your hands toyed nervously with each other in the dead silence for an eternity before he spoke again.

“Does being a whore fulfill you?”

Doctor Crane’s tone was so simple, so… Professionally mind blowing. You took a second to process it all. Nobody, absolutely nobody else would have ever gotten away with saying something like that to you. At least not without you telling them to fuck off. But for some reason that had everything to do with his voice, his eyes and his face, instead of anger, you felt your pussy fluttering beneath your leggings.

“I'm sorry… what?” You asked in an odd mix of shock, rightful offence and growing desire, unable to tell which feeling dominated. Crane, still so deadpan, leaned over, setting his cup next to yours on the table.

“I asked if being a whore fulfills you…  Dancing for old men and taking their money? Does that make you happy?” Once more, his voice was flat, medically sterile. For a moment, you weren’t a woman. You were one of the many cases he studied.

You squeezed your thighs together, maybe to remind yourself of your own humanity, and your own growing arousal. This mad man had really invited you to his house, let you sit on his fancy chaise and invited you a cup of tea just to degrade you on your face. And, instead of insulting him and defending yourself like you should have, you got wet.

“It's just my job…” That’s all you managed to utter, your energies too busy keeping the rest of your body in check. Doctor Crane nodded, an obvious habit from his consultations. 

“Do you have a relationship with your father?” He asked simply, his voice deep, not even a hint of mockery, just brutal, raw, unasked-for seriousness, and perhaps, judgement. 

“That's a very rude thing to ask…” You whispered defensively. 

“It’s really not if you do have one, which I'm assuming by your answer you don’t… Do you think that’s why you enjoy dressing in provocative clothing and dancing for men?” Crane asked, reaching over to touch your knee. You hated to admit, but his touch was electric. Just as dangerous as touching a wire with bare hands. Your pussy fluttered and clenched, your breath hitched and all the words you could have used to tell him off disappeared in your head.

There was another awkward silence in which his eyes didn’t stop looking into yours, drilling their way into your psyche. Crane smirked, as if he had actually gained physical access to it, and leaned in closer to you.

“I bet you’re already fucking soaking... I didn't even need to give you that aphrodisiac did I?” 

Aphrodisiac. 

Your head spun terribly and your heart pounded at the knowledge that he was absolutely right. Confused, nervous and horny you were. Dripping wet too. You looked down at your empty cup of tea in a futile attempt to find a trace of anything. Doctor Crane’s fiery hand slid up onto your thigh and interrupted your flimsy examination.

“What?” That was all you could muster.

“I think, in my professional psychiatrist's opinion, you’re in need of some guidance and attention from a smarter, older man…” His smooth, attractive voice pooled into a warm wet patch on your thong. Your mouth hung open slightly, watching him blink as the pieces fell together in your mind. The packages delivered straight to your apartment door, the last one being his, the insistence of getting you something to drink, the passing comment about observing you… He had set everything up to therapize you. To crack your mind open. And when he had you at your most vulnerable, when all of his uncomfortable questions and the tea had you under his thumb, to inevitably fuck you…

Testing you, Crane pulled his hand away from you, reveling in the little whine you made at the loss. He stood up and stepped right in front of you, his crotch on your face and his finger tilting your head up to meet his intense, serious gaze. Not knowing how much was the effect of the aphrodisiac and how much was your own desire, you felt butterflies for his sexy imposing presence, for the tiny smug smile he gave you and for the way he held his thumb to you before uttering the word: “Suck…” as a soft but serious command. 

Craving the approval, you mindlessly wrapped your lips around his thumb, letting the pad of his finger rest on your tongue before starting to suck gently.

“Good girl…” he murmured, and it felt like a hit of a drug. The most addictive, altering feeling of your life.

“You know, I’m rather picky when it comes to my women. I think with my help you could be the perfect little wife. You’re much too pretty for that club…  And I think you know that…” The more he spoke, the more you rolled your tongue over his thumb. You hummed in agreement, visions of you bathed in his attentions and riches making your cunt clench.

Crane pulled his thumb out of you with a sticky pop sound, running the tip over your bottom lip. He gave you a sly smile, his serious demeanor slipping a bit and revealing just how turned on he was.

“Get naked for me doll…” He rasped and you nearly moaned in anticipation. Who were you to deny him or disobey him?

With your head still reeling and the aphrodisiac coursing through your system, you pulled your shirt over your head, your tits bouncing free for his eyes to devour. He loomed over you, his cock ached in his dress pants at such perfection. 

Intently, he visually traced every contour of your naked torso as you laid back on the therapist chair and slipped your leggings off, losing them somewhere on the pristine wooden floor. Crane enjoyed the show, sitting on the edge of the lounge as your most devoted audience. Blue eyes raked over the pink lace of your damp thong and he felt the urge to do something with his hands. His calloused touch slid up your legs, mapping out his new, soft, warm possession.

Your heart beat out of your chest and through the delicate folds of your pussy, begging and pleading for contact.

“I said naked…” Crane repeated a little sternly, deciding to not trust you to comprehend a basic order in your state and doing it himself. He took hold of the pink lace covering your core and ripped it, pulling the now shredded fabric off your body.

You gasped softly, unable to hold back a moan. Your body was buzzing in anticipation and reeling under the influence. You needed him. Badly.

“Much better…” He purred in satisfaction, gazing into your eyes with a burning desire. Calloused hands pushed your legs apart and examined just what he had gotten.

“God you’re just dripping…” It was a whispered, slightly needy observation that betrayed the seriousness of his actions. You had a wet, delicious, hot cunt that invited him to touch, to part your pretty folds to get a good look at your aching hole.

“Please…” You whispered, if not begged, speaking for the first time in ages. Crane smirked triumphantly, he had you at his perfect mercy and he couldn’t feel prouder. He responded to your plea by leaning over you, chest to chest, and capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

Your arms wrapped around him for dear life, one of your hands plunged into his soft brown hair and took in the feeling of him, of his warm tongue slipping in slowly against yours in a sensual dance, of his hand that came up to cup your breast and roll your nipple. After a minute, he pulled back, leaving you breathless and looking up at him like a begging puppy. It was a perfect sight. Crane cracked a smile, soothing you with a caress to your cheek.

“God you’re beautiful…”

He whispered, almost fooling you into believing he had slipped out of the cruel dominant demeanor he had shown up to this point. The aphrodisiac, the praise and your own attraction to him had you reeling and buzzing for a second, and that was enough to drive you wild.

“Flip over…” Crane commanded. “On your knees, bent over and ass out for me…” 

Immediately, you did as he said, eager to please. It was not the most comfortable of positions, with your head turned to the side, your cheek against the cold leather backrest and your hands clutching the frame of the chair, but in all honesty, you didn’t care. All you wanted was to be fucked, and soon. 

Crane groaned a bit, moving to adjust himself behind your tempting flesh. Both needy holes bare and on display for him to use however he wanted. One of his knees rested on the lounger behind you and one foot got planted on the floor for stability.

Without warning, you felt his hand come down on your ass. Hard. You yelped, then moaned, the pain mixing with pleasure deliciously and making you desperate for more. It was a whole miracle your pussy wasn’t dripping down your thighs and onto the fine leather at this point.

Another hard smack. This time on the other cheek to make it sting equally. You stifled out a whimper with a bite to your lip, catching the sound of his belt coming undone then followed by the zipper of his pants. You nearly shook in anticipation the longer he took to fill you up, and you started to believe he was deliberately toying with you. His large hands then grabbed a greedy handful of each asscheek, spreading them apart to get a good look at both holes.

“Please, Sir…” You finally got the courage to whisper, driven by your need. You wouldn’t be able to take any more foreplay, it felt like it could kill you.

He smiled to himself at the little “sir” that left your pleading lips, and while he didn’t respond with words, you felt the tip of his cock slowly rubbing back and forth against your sticky wet folds just to tease you. Taunt you. He covered his tip in your perfect slick and made you moan, but he held back the pulsating need to slam into you. 

“You want me?” He asked huskily and simply so you could scream, obviously aware that you needed him. But he wanted you to say it.

“God yes…” You whined back to him, already out of breath. You tried to push back against him in hopes to get the tip to slip in, completely desperate for his cock. 

Then, you felt his palm coming down on your ass for a third time, the slapping sound echoing through the study and its high vaulted ceilings just to remind you of how much of a slut you were for this man. Desire and whatever it was that composed the aphrodisiac coursed through your veins .

“I’m going fuck the whore out of you…” He sneered and without another word, his thick cock slammed into you in one go. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, nearly blinding you. You let out the loudest, whiniest moan for him yet, unable to even process just how good his perfectly curved long cock hit parts of you you didn’t know needed to be hit…

His hand gripped your hip possessively, giving you no time to adjust to him as he started to piston his hips into you. As if you needed it, you were dripping wet. 

“Oh fuck- holy fuck-...” You whimpered and babbled absolute nonsense. Crane was fucking you stupid and drilling the obscene sounds of skin slapping and your pussy squelching into your mind. So filthy and erotic, you could even hear him grunting and groaning in a loss of composure. He couldn’t help it, not when he was balls deep inside this greedy slutty cunt after so much foreplay.

“This tight pussy’s getting fucked so good she’s talking to me… You hear yourself?” He asked, half satisfied, half degrading. It was like it fucking disgusted him yet it ignited him. Words failed you, all you did was moan over and over with his thrusts as a response.

“I think she knows exactly who she belongs to…” He cooed condescendingly to you, his hand coming down and spanking your ass again, leaving a sting that transformed into pleasure in its wake, adding to your already building orgasm.

“You…you… I belong to you!” You cried out stupidly, fucked so deeply, so thoroughly. His cock hit that special spongy spot inside you again and again, some drool threatened to spill down the corner of your lips from how mindlessly he was plowing you. He had really managed to erase every thought in your head, every single one except him.

“This pretty little asshole keeps winking at me…  She’s begging for my attention…” He grunted, his balls slapping against your neglected clit as he drilled into you. You babbled incoherently at his words, already so fucked out and you had’t even come yet.

You heard him gather saliva in his mouth, then, a hot wad of spit hit your asshole, you whined in response. Crane’s hand reached down until his thumb was spreading his spit around your puckered hole and pushing it into your ass.

“Ffffuuuck.” You moaned loudly at the new sensation. The burning tension of your building orgasm threatened to boil over any time now. “P-please… I'm gonna come…” You begged so sweetly, desperate for a release the harder he pounded. 

Crane’s hips then came to a stop, completely neglecting your orgasm. You felt like you could cry. 

“If you want it that badly, you can fuck yourself on my cock…  Work for it doll…” He said sternly, pulling his thumb out of your ass and making you whine. 

Immediately, you started to bounce yourself on his cock, throwing your ass back at him like a pathetic whore. It was a feast to icy blue eyes, following closely how his cock slipped in and out of your tight, wet, hot pussy. The sensation became so good he couldn't hold back a groan of pleasure that sent his head back.

Air barely filled you agitated lungs the more you bounced yourself, chasing and earning your orgasm with desperation. You could tell he was close too. You felt it from how his thighs flexed and by the grunts he made. He would never admit such a filthy weakness like that out loud however. 

A few more hard blows landed on your ass as you bounced his cock on him, making you clench hard every single time and moan like the whore he was trying to fuck out of you. Crane was even moaning himself, music to your ears and cunt.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore, equally desperate. 

“Fuck me- flip over… I have to see that pretty face when I come deep inside you…”

Thank fuck. A smirk grazed your lips at the audible desperation in his voice. You turned over onto your back, meeting his handsome face again, his hair was now a little disheveled and his forehead glistened with a little sheen of sweat. His long, painfully hard cock was coated in your arousal, and you groaned at the sight, finally seeing it after only having it inside. Crane scooted closer, pushing back into you with ease and wasting absolutely no time. 

You bit your lip gently, looking up into his intense crystal blue eyes when you moaned in unison. He gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, spread them and pushed them up into your chest until he had you at a perfect angle, hitting the deepest parts of you. Your mouth fell open and your eyes closed just as he started to pump his hips into you, picking up speed until you couldn’t hold back loud whiny moans.

He reveled in the way your beautiful face contorted in pleasure, a smug smirk forming between heavy breaths. 

“You fucking like that?” He groaned to you, making you nod frantically to the rhythm of your squelching pussy.

“This pussy is just begging me to come so deep…” His voice gave away just how little he would last. Your mind reeled at his words, at his serious and harsh personality slipping away to reveal how much he loved the feeling of you.

The pressure of your orgasm tightened in your lower abdomen as he fucked you unforgivingly hard and deep. You wouldn’t last much either.

“Please… I'm-I’m gonna come...” You whimpered, so pathetically fucked out, unable to hold it back anymore. His hips fucked you on autopilot and he smirked.

“Come for me doll…” He cooed to you sensually and that was all it took. Your orgasm ripped through you like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Fireworks went off in your brain and your body trembled in the deepest, most needed pleasure. Your wet pussy tightened around him with greed, your back arched off the chair and your eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh my God!” You cried out to him, your legs shaking as he fucked you through it. 

Crane looked down at you in amazement, his jaw hanging open and allowing heavy breaths to escape him. It was truly the best pleasure of your entire life, the junction of his devilish beauty, your need and the last rush of the aphrodisiac making you wild. He felt you milking his willpower out of him, he had no way to resist, to keep up the front.

“Jesus-“ That was all he could muster to say. A deep loud groan resonated in the study as he gave into the intense pleasure. Akin to you, something he had never felt before.

Dizzy and mind blown, he leaned over you, his sweaty forehead against yours as his hips finally came to a stop. His cock pulsed and filled you deeply with his load, drowning your cunt in him.

You both panted heavily, hot breath mingling and hitting each other’s faces until recovery from the hardest orgasm of your lives finally came. A curious, tentative hand came up to touch his cheek with newfound softness. You smiled a little, his eyes softened in a rare moment of tenderness until his lips found yours. The soft kiss soon turned into a slow, sensual makeout. His tongue slided against you sending a flood of tingles all over you.

Crane pulled back after a minute or two of melting onto you, moving back into his position and keeling between your legs. You watched in complete devotion how his half flaccid cock left your sated heat, leaving you so empty without him inside. 

“Mmm, look at that…” He marveled, inspecting your puffy abused folds as his cum dribbled slowly out of you, his middle finger caught it and pushed back inside you. You moaned at the feeling, watching intently.

“I think with the proper training and sessions like these, you’ll be the most lovely little wife…” He practically cooed to you, and it became your life mission. Your heart swelled with the idea, no matter how demeaning it was, you were under his spell even though the aphrodisiac had completely worn off  by now.

The man you wanted to please the most flashed you that perfect smile, pulling his finger out of you just to offer it to your lips. You happily obliged, sucking it clean with your gliding tongue and humming at the combined taste of you.

“You’ll stay here tonight…” He commanded quietly, and you agreed right away, your obedience and devotion coddling to his already inflated ego. He had looked far and wide for the perfect partner… Pet…. Wife… Who would have thought she’d move in next door?

“Your next session will be in the morning, you’ll show me how good you can suck a cock…” Crane’s hand stroked your cheek softly yet possessively, and despite how sexualizing and objectifying it was, all you could ever feel was excitement for what was to come in the morning. And every morning after that.

You could tell that it was just the beginning for you both…

-Pinterest board made by the lovely @fuckiingloser

-Fic playlist made by me.

[mimicmimikyuwrites]

Who You Belong To - Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow) x Fem!Reader SMUT

Summary: You and your professor share what could barely be called a relationship, but what's there is tricky and difficult to put a positive label on. When a fellow classmate successfully asks you on a date, Dr. Crane decides to make one thing clear: who you belong to.

Contents/Possible Warnings: Age Gap (Reader is in her early 20's, Crane's in his mid 30's), inclusion of original male character, student-professor relationship, unprotected sex, P in V sex, toxic relationship (?), creampie, semi-clothed sex, mentions of masturbation, degradation, semi-public sex (they fuck in an office), SMUT, MDNI

Other Notes: You can read part two here.

Some people say there's over four hundred estimated phobias, others say that number can be even higher at five hundred; no matter the number, you were sure Dr. Jonathan Crane knew every single one of them by heart. Your slightly off-putting psychology professor with a passion for fear and its workings shared a relationship with you that had breeched its professional expectations long ago. You couldn't tell what he was to you, exactly, but it certainly wasn't just your professor, not when he had been inside of you more times than either of you could count.

It wasn't uncommon for him to ask you to stay after class, leading into an invitation to his office before you found yourself bent over an expensive, wooden desk that had already been cleared off in expectation of you being pressed to it while you took him. Sometimes if he wanted to strike a bit of fear of getting caught into you, he'd fuck you right in the lecture hall, always letting you know how terrifying the consequences would be if someone else did something as simple as come back for a forgotten pen.

You may have been his favorite teacher's pet, but you were sure there were others. Jonathan was an attractive man who taught an already difficult class, it'd be no surprise to you if he had other women lined up for a chance to recieve a better grade from him in exchange for a little "extra- credit" assignment, as much as you hated to admit it to yourself. He was never yours to begin with.

"Care to tell me why you're staring down at your closed text book instead of listening to my lesson?" Your professor questioned, breaking you out of your thoughts. Shit, how had you gotten so immersed in your little daydream that you had forgotten you were in class? You could feel the sympathetic stares of your peers burning into you as Crane loomed over you, a gleam of mischievous satisfaction in his blue eyes. You didn't respond.

"Stay after class," He said plainly, heading back to the front of the room. He'd still ask you to stay back regardless of how things went, the little show he had made out of you was his way of toying with you in just the way he liked. It was more of a tease at this point, you weren't scared, not of him. Still, you shrunk back into your seat in faux embarrassment to entertain him.

"To those who were paying attention, unlike a certain someone," he paused, gaze drifting over to you as he quickly took in the sight of what you were wearing.

While it was nothing out of the ordinary for you, you did choose to wear a skirt today, a favorite of his to see on you. How easy would it be for him to pull it up, bunching the fabric over your hips so be could get acess to what he was really after? He also took note of your gloss-covered lips, mind drifting onto how great they'd look wrapped around his cock or wide open as you moaned for him. He shifted, moving to be further behind his desk as he felt his pants tighten. He would wreck you after everyone was gone.

"You have a test on the topic of agoraphobia this upcoming Monday; today is Friday, which means you have the weekend to review the notes, which I hope you've been taking, for your own sake." He continued. "You're all free to go, except who I've already asked to stay." He really wouldn't stop rubbing that in, would he? Maybe he was trying to rile you up to make your usual "meeting" more exciting today.

As your classmates rose, you stayed seated, putting your stuff into your bag as you did. It was all routine, except for the man who had approached you before making his way out. He stood over you with a friendly smile, one that you had to admit made him look handsome. He didn't look too different from Dr. Crane in terms of basic features; dark hair and cornflower blue eyes. He was your type on the level of looks.

"Hey, I'm Ryan," He introduced himself, friendly smile remaining on his face. "I heard that you're pretty good in this class, making straight A's. I was wondering if you could help me study this weekend if you're free? Maybe we could grab a cup of coffee, too?" You looked over to where Dr. Crane was standing, the man in question observing your interaction from his desk, making it subtle by acting like he was sorting through papers.

You and your professor weren't exclusive, and if he had others lined up and waiting for him, then you could, too; it'd only be fair. Your classmate wanted to study and get coffee? He'd get what he wanted and more. "Sure! I'm free tommorrow at twelve if that works out for you," You finally replied, smiling up at Ryan. You had just met the guy and he was already doing something that Crane never did: asking you out on a date.

Ryan grinned, grabbing a notebook out of his bag and ripping out a piece of paper, writing his number on it before handing it to you. "I'll see you then!" He exclaimed happily before waving goodbye and leaving. After he had left, you stood up, pulling your bag over your shoulder before you made your way to where Jonathan was at the front of the lecture hall. He did ask you to stay after class.

"Throw it away," Crane stated plainly, moving the small, paper-filled trashcan that was under his desk to be in front of you. You looked down, not realizing you still had the slip of paper with Ryan's number on it in your hand.

"Do you even know what it is?" You retorted, shoving the paper into your bag.

"He gave you his number. You don't need the number of someone you turned down," He responded, moving the trashcan even closer to you. "Throw it away." He repeated.

"Except I didn't turn him down." You replied, watching his brows furrow in a mix of confusion, and then annoyance once your words sunk in. "We're not exclusive, you and I, are we?" Part of you hoped he'd prove you wrong, telling you that he was yours and you were his, while another part of you wanted to tell him 'fuck you" to his face. How many simultaneously lucky and unlucky women did he have waiting for him? Many, you were sure of it.

"I'm sure you have someone else in another one of your classes that you can spend your evening with, Dr. Crane." You smiled, trying to ignore the growing pain in your heart. "If you can have others, then it's only fair that I can as well."

"What makes you think that I have others?" He inquired, looking up at you with curious, blue eyes. "Do you think I'm the type of man to give out straight A's in my class in exchange for a fling or two? I don't even up your grades, darling." He chuckled lightly.

You rolled your eyes. He had to be lying to you... right? Were you really the only one and he just didn't see you as more than someone to have sex with? You didn't know what idea hurt you more, but the end result was the same: you meant little to him, and your body was all he wanted.

"I'll see you on Monday, professor." You mumbled out, feeling defeated. You already knew why he had asked you to stay after class, but the thought of him touching you while he wanted nothing more than just sex sickened you. What did you expect? That's all things had ever been. You shouldn't have caught feelings.

He watched you leave, letting out a long sigh once you were gone. You had always been a pain in his ass, but not one he'd ever get rid of.

Saturday at Twelve left just as quickly as it had come, and before you knew it, not only had you had your date, but you were also back in your Psychology class on Monday, a test on agoraphobia in front of you. Being nearly sixty questions long, it was intimidating to look at, even more so when the majority of questions were statistic-based. You were far from worried, however, having studied the topic extensively over the past few weeks.

Any confidence you had left you once you received your score later that same class period. You had failed by a large margin, the bright red ink in the corner shamefully exclaiming '34%' seeming to mock you as you stared back at it. You had yet to fail any assignment in your Psychology course, let alone one on such a common fear as agoraphobia. Your professor did this on purpose.

"Yes? Can I help you?" Crane asked, not bothering to look up as he shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk. You placed your failed test in front of the man, an angry frown on your face as you did so.

"Did you intentionally fail me because I went out on a date this weekend, you prick?!" He finally glanced up at you, his neutral expression not faltering a bit despite your obvious discontent. Then, he stood up, making his way over to his office door in the corner of the room.

"Come on, let's take this to my office so you can shout at me without embarrassing yourself as easily." The condescension in his voice only served to upset you further, much to his sadistic delight. You were the first one inside, Jonathan making sure to lock the door behind you. Before you could even open up your mouth to yell at him once more, he spoke.

"Did it feel good?" He asked nonchalantly, catching you off guard.

"What? What are you—"

"Did it feel good when he fucked you?" He finished, watching calmly as your eyes widened in shock. "You have a hickey on your neck under all that makeup you used to try and hide it. You've done the same to the ones I've given you in the past. It's just barely noticeable."

He stepped forward, closing in on you like a hungry animal would their prey, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "Did it feel good? Did he manage to fuck you better than I ever could?" His arm wrapped around you, a hand placing itself on the small of your back as he leaned into you. "Or did he leave you wanting more? Did you go home and grab that vibrator of yours, just wishing it was me that had been the one with you while you were forced to make yourself cum, because he couldn't?"

He moved, lifting you up so he could sit you on the desk. Of course, like always, it was cleared off ahead of time in anticipation of your visit.

"Maybe I need to show you who you belong to, hmm?" His hands moved down under your skirt, one resting on your inner thigh while the other gave an experimental touch to your clothed sex. You were already wet, your arousal felt through the thin cotton of your panties. "Soaking already, my dear? He must've left you worse off than I imagined." Jonathan purred.

"H-He barely touched me," You stuttered out, feeling Crane tug your underwear to the side, his deft fingers finding your clit. "All we did was make out." You let out a soft moan as he began slowly rubbing at the sensitive bud.

"I don't believe you." His hands left you, beginning to undo his belt. The prominent tent in his black slacks let you know just what was in store for you; he was starving for you. "Not when you admitted you let him touch what's mine." He continued, motioning for you to take your soaked panties off.

"What's yours?" You breathed out, slipping off the clothing in question, letting it fall to the ground below.

"You need to know who you belong to." He stated, pulling his cock out; hard and leaking pre-cum at the tip. Your pussy grew even wetter at the sight. You spread your legs on instinct as he came in closer, putting himself in between them, a hand resting on your hip while the other lined himself up with your eager cunt, the head of his cock teasing your entrance.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked staring into your eyes with his half-lidded, sultry ones swimming with lust and need. "Answer me correctly and I'll be nice and give you what you want."

"You. I belong to you. Dr. Jonathan Cra— oh, fuck!" You gasped out, feeling him thrust into you without warning. He set a quick, almost animalistic pace, wasting no time; not when he needed you so much. Every drag of his thick cock inside of your desperate cunt sent pleasure coursing through you.

"I bet he didn't fuck you as good as this," he groaned, a tight grip on your hips as he slammed into you, the lewd sounds of your shared pleasure filling the small space of his office. It had only been a few days since he had last fucked you, but with the way you were already trembling beneath him it felt like it had been months.

"You're the best I've —Oh!— ever had!" You managed to get out between your moans. It was true, too. Out of every man you'd ever been with, no man had made you feel as good as Jonathan did. "Harder– baby, please!" You begged, gripping the edge of the desk like your life depended on it.

"Look at you, begging like a slut," He growled, pounding into you even harder. "That's okay, darling. You're my little slut. Mine to fuck. Mine to ruin." He let out a loud groan as your pussy clamped down on him at the sound of his words. "Oh? Does that turn you on? The thought of me ruining you? Trust me, you're not going to want a single person other than me after I'm done with you, darling." You pulled him down, dragging him into a messy, open-mouthed kiss. Your tongue moved against his, just like you were made for each other.

"I love you," you whimpered out, feeling him nip at your neck. "Please— I want to be all yours. Only yours." You pleaded, your mind too clouded with the intense pleasure rocking through your body to fully process the potential impact of what you had just confessed.

"You already are." He responded, hips snapping against yours as he lost his rhythm. "I love you, too. I don't care what trouble I'll get into for what we've done. I don't care if I lose my job, as long as you're with me at the end of it all."

That sent you over the edge, along with the tip of his cock grazing your sweet spot. You came around him, your orgasm crashing over you as your legs shook with the force of it all. He spilled into you not long after, thick, warm cum shooting deep inside you and leaking out to drip down your thighs as he let out a long, loud groan of ecstasy.

You slumped back against the desk, feeling the cold wood against your warm, hot skin. Jonathan buried his head into the crook of your neck, pressing soft, chaste kisses to it as you both came down from your orgasmic highs. You stayed like that for a long moment until both of you calmed down, a blissful exhaustion filling you.

"There's a new restaurant that opened up in the town center," he smiled, caressing your cheek. "I hear it has some of the best Chicken Alfredo the city has to offer. Good wine, too."

You chuckled tiredly, not catching on to his offer. "You fucked me silly just so you could tell me about some Italian place?"

"I'm sure it's a better first date than whatever that guy got you," He said, letting out a chuckle of his own. "I'm free later tonight if that's not too short notice."

Your eyes shot open as the realization set in. "Wait— You're asking me out? What if someone from the University sees us, Jonathan? You could get—" He cut you off with a short, sweet kiss.

"Arkham always needs new doctors, darling. There's never a shortage of the need for psychiatrists. I'm tired of grading papers, anyway." He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck. "You heard what I said earlier, didn't you? I love you. You belong to me."

You had finally learned who you belonged to, and you couldn't have been happier.

[gingerteafairy]

𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

jonathan crane x detective!reader masterlist

summary: It's never enough. You always want more.

tags n warnings: smut/mdni, patient!reader, manipulation, probably stockholm syndrome, rough sex, accidental voyeurism, slight bdsm, humiliation kink, drugging, degradation kink, pet names. word count: 5.5k

A/N: the funniest part is that i was just making a playlist and wrote based on gimme more by britney spears.

You gripped the strap of your bag tightly, your fingers instinctively closing around the soft leather. The warmth of the sun finally touched your skin, a refreshing contrast after so long wrapped in the artificial cold of the hospital. Your smile grew when you heard the subtle jingle of the chain attached to your belt, echoing in the momentary silence before you slid into the discreet black car. Today was a great day. A perfect day. And why? Your psychiatrist, Jonathan Crane, was going to take you for a ride outside the hospital. 

Hours before, you were lying in bed, scribbling words in a small notebook – a rare privilege granted by him, which you took advantage of. Writing down all the atrocities that happened in that place. A weapon that not even Jonathan Crane could take away from you. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when the door opened without warning, and Jonathan entered the room. He was wearing that impeccable suit that molded his slender silhouette, each movement calculated as he sat on the edge of your bed. His posture was rigid, almost manic, and his eyes, cold as steel beneath the lenses of his glasses, analyzed you with the clinical interest of someone observing a guinea pig... or a pet.

And you were.

His favorite.

That was perfect.

“You’ve been a very good girl, dear…” His voice cut through the silence, tugging at your attention like an invisible thread. The notepad was forgotten in an instant. You leaned closer, your eyes shining with anticipation. “You’ve behaved well, done everything right. I think it’s time for a walk.”

“Outside?” Your voice almost trembled with excitement as you straightened up in bed.

“That’s right.” Jonathan tilted his head, the corner of his lips moving subtly, almost smiling. He liked how something so insignificant—so pathetic—could light up your face. Like you were a child receiving a gift for good behavior. And in a way, that was exactly what it was. What you wanted to be.

He held out a package. You picked it up carefully, your fingers sliding over the neatly folded fabric. As you pulled it out, your eyes widened.

A white long-sleeved blouse, delicate but reminiscent of a straitjacket in its design. A thin belt with a chain that matched the micro black skirt. Elegant shoes in the same color, and to top it off, a red bag, eye-catching against the rest of the outfit.

“Are these… going-out clothes?” Your voice was brimming with excitement, almost hesitant to believe it.

Your fingers brushed the cotton as if they were made of glass, touching the fabric with a silent reverence. None of that coarse, pale material of hospital pajamas. This was different. This was real. An opportunity.

“Are they for me?”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, that gesture controlled and studied. His face seemed serene, but his eyes? Always cold.

“Can you get ready quickly?” The question was asked with an almost disinterested calm, but you knew better.

“I can.” You answered promptly, excitedly, standing up so fast that your feet tripped over the small silver chain that was tied to your feet, supported by the bed rail. The impact was immediate, and you fell to the floor with a dull thud, dragging a cord from the equipment next to the bed.

Jonathan stood still for a moment, watching. You knew he wanted to laugh. He bent down, his long fingers sliding through your hair in a calculatedly affectionate way – but without reaching out to help you, just freeing you from the chain. 

“Very well. Get up. Let’s go.” He said in a slightly condescending tone before walking away, his polished black shoes echoing on the floor in an almost hypnotic rhythm. His last sight was the metal door closing, leaving only the promise of something beyond those walls.

Time passed quickly. Soon, Jonathan returned, opening the door to find you already dressed. His gaze ran up and down your body, unhurriedly, without needing words. You learned to decipher him over time – and he learned to decipher you.

It was impossible not to learn from Jonathan after so much time with him. Your training in the police force had given you tolerance in various situations, to decipher people, codes, even the unknown that was the Scarecrow.

However, Jonathan was a psychiatrist, years of experience, decades of practice. He saw through you like a curtain. And very well decorated. The way your blouse added an almost ironic layer of innocence to your madness. How he knew that that red purse carried nothing more than a symbolic accessory. How your hair, now arranged, framed your face in a way that pleased him.

“Here.” Jonathan held something out to you.

It was a delicate wallet, decorated with little kittens. You opened it, curious, and found a card with your name on it.

“For you to have fun outside.” He explained softly. “Do you know how to use it?”

Your fingers slid over the card, your eyes taking in every detail before you finally looked up at him, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.

“I know.”

“Sure. You’re clever.” He murmured, his voice as cold as the neutral expression on his face. But you knew. You knew you were special. Jonathan Crane didn’t hand out compliments for nothing, because he saw no point in frivolous lies.

Without looking away, he nodded to one of the guards and locked the door, his firm fingers finding your waist in a gesture guided more by habit than affection. You followed beside him without hesitation, your steps rhythmic to the black car, discreet like everything that belonged to him.

The trip could have been peaceful… if it hadn’t been terribly morbid.

There was no music in Crane’s car. There never was.

And he knew that bothered you.

The absolute silence created a vacuum where your thoughts began to multiply, trying to fill the lack of stimulation. He wanted this. To test the limits of how far you would go. To see if you had “improved” – or, more accurately, how far your mind would still wander. And, of course, he made sure to intensify the experience. 

The air conditioning was gradually reduced, lowering the temperature until the cold began to seep into your skin. It was a calculated experiment. The change in your breathing was subtle at first, an almost imperceptible mismatch, until the feeling of discomfort became evident. Jonathan noticed, but didn’t comment. He just watched. 

Precise. Surgical. Professional. 

The only sound that broke the silence was the click of his tongue before he rolled down the window and removed the parking pass. For a brief moment, this action interrupted his careful analysis of you. And then, you saw it. The mall. Of all the places in the world, you would never have imagined that Jonathan Crane would take you to such a useless place as a shopping mall.

The shock was immediate. You blinked a few times, trying to process the information. You still recognized that place, even after so much time locked away. The familiarity was unsettling, almost uncomfortable.

The age difference between you wasn't absurd, but it was enough to give this situation a... strange tone. And, of course, there was the fact that this went beyond any ethical limit. You knew you shouldn't feel what you felt. Jonathan was your psychiatrist. He had been following you for years. Session after session, medication after medication, observation after observation.

And, with each meeting, you wanted more.

"Are you hungry?" His voice cut through your thoughts the moment you got out of the car, your feet touching the asphalt as if you were stepping into the real world for the first time in centuries.

"Not really..." you lied. Your stomach protested in contradiction, but that didn't matter. This outing was too precious to waste on trivial things like food. You didn’t want to waste time. You didn’t want to lose Jonathan.

“Nonsense.” He dismissed your answer with a small smile—the kind of smile that was more a reflection of his analysis than a true gesture of affection. “I didn’t bring you here to wander.”

He held out his hand to you.

There was a moment of hesitation.

It wasn’t common for a psychiatrist to hold a patient’s hand. Right? But at the same time, you’d never met anyone who’d gotten out of Arkham like that. You’d never heard of anyone who had the privilege of walking around while still living under a regime as closed as a prison.

So maybe… maybe that was part of his method.

Your gaze slid from his hand to his face, searching for any clue. But Jonathan Crane was an enigma. Always had been. Your hand found his. The touch was a shock. A shiver ran down your spine, as if his skin was burning. Or maybe it was you.

The mall was almost empty. Few cars parked, almost no one at the entrance. It wasn’t surprising. Monday. Seven in the morning. A carefully chosen time.

Jonathan Crane always planned everything.

“Oh, we almost forgot your medicine.” He reminded you as you almost reached the entrance. You let go of your hands and clasped them in front of your body. “Close your eyes. Open your mouth.”

You did as he told you, straightening your spine and feeling the dark green, bitter liquid go down your throat in a syringe, which you did your best to swallow quickly. And since Jonathan loved your dedication, he prolonged the time he pressed the syringe’s plunger as much as possible so that each milliliter could be deposited with intention.

Jonathan cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses with a calculated movement before sliding the syringe back into the inside pocket of his coat.

“There. Now we’re ready. I’ll administer the next dose in 30 minutes.” His voice was low, precise, as if he were just recording a mental note. Without wasting time, he took your hand again, his fingers firmly around yours, guiding you back into the mall.

The sensory impact was immediate.

Smells so strong they seemed to spread across your tongue. Flashing lights, colorful posters, screens broadcasting images too fast for your unaccustomed eyes to follow. It wasn’t a crowded place, but to you, it felt like it. Too many people. Too many voices. Everything in motion, everything vibrant, so different from the cold monotony of Arkham.

Jonathan noticed. He always noticed.

“Does all this information make you feel off, somehow?” He asked, his hand firmly squeezing yours, guiding you to one of the cafes. When you arrived, he pointed to a chair next to his, waiting for you to sit down. “If I’m not mistaken, it’s been seven years since you last left Arkham.”

“Yes.” You took a deep breath, feeling the smells of the cafe mix with his perfume. “Five years as your patient.” Pride was evident in your voice, but not the kind Jonathan expected.

You adjusted a strand of hair, and from this distance, every detail of Jonathan became even clearer. The metallic shine of his glasses. The mesmerizing hue of his blue eyes behind the lenses. The warm scent that emanated from the spots where his skin warmed the fabric of his suit.

“Am I doing well?”

Jonathan tilted his head, studying you with that clinical gaze that always made you squirm inside—with fear or pleasure, you still couldn’t tell.

“Great, actually.” He admitted, a faint note of satisfaction tinging his voice. “Today is an experiment. I want to test your tolerance to…”

He paused. His eyes slid from yours to the cold steel collar around your neck—a collar he’d placed there himself a year ago.

“…stimuli.”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

Jonathan smiled subtly, a gesture more studied than spontaneous. “It’s better if you don’t know the details. It could compromise the results and create a placebo effect on your brilliant brain, my dear.”

The way he said it made your stomach turn—and not because of the coffee he had just ordered. Jonathan ordered just a black coffee, while you made your choice in silence. You had a brief moment of breathing, a moment where you could simply observe him. He seemed different here, in this strange and ordinary environment. More relaxed. More independent. More handsome, if that was possible. He finished his drink before you. 

“We have one more place to go.” Jonathan stood up, leaving some notes on the table before taking your hand again. You followed beside him, your steps synchronized as if they were one. Then, something caught your attention.

Your eyes were immediately drawn to it, the brightness of the clothes on display capturing your gaze. Your fingers gently touched the cold glass. A store with clothes so beautiful you never thought they existed.

Jonathan stopped beside you, watching your reaction with interest. You didn't need to say anything. He already knew.

Entering the store was quick, almost automatic. You spotted the perfect dress, picked it up without hesitation and headed straight to the cashier, without even going through the dressing room. Jonathan watched you closely, his hands in his coat pockets, his clinical gaze analyzing your every move.

Something changed.

Your body began to heat up in an unusual way. As if the blood was boiling under your skin, a sudden heat rose to your forehead, forming a thin layer of sweat. You blinked a few times, trying to focus, feeling your senses getting slightly confused.

“Ahmm… I think I'm next in line.” Your voice sounded a little shaky as you took the card out of your purse and swiped it through the machine. A small relief ran down your spine when you saw the purchase approved.

“What a good girl you are, knows how to buy things properly.”

Jonathan ran his hand through your hair, a light, almost casual caress. But for you, it was much more than that.

“Say more, please.” The words escaped before you could contain them. Your body acted on its own, clinging to his suit, seeking more. “Praise me more.”

As soon as you realized what you had done, you pulled away abruptly, pressing your hands against your body as if you could contain the growing need. Trying to ignore the strange sensation that was intensifying, you picked up the bag and left the store, your steps slightly unsteady.

Everything was… different.

The colors seemed more vibrant, almost blinding. The smell of the mall was a chaotic and overwhelming mix. And suddenly, an absurd hunger settled in your stomach – not a common hunger, but something deep, almost primal.

The belt chain burned your skin.

Your knees gave way for a second, and before you could fall, large, firm hands grabbed your waist.

“It’s time to take your medicine again, love.” Jonathan’s voice sounded too close to your ear, a low whisper, almost a shared secret. You felt the heat of his chest against your back, his woody scent mixing with his uneven breathing.

“Has it been 30 minutes already?” You gasped, all sense of time completely lost.

“Almost. Let’s go to the car.”

Jonathan’s steps became faster, but his posture remained impeccable. Each tap of his shoes against the floor echoed like a clock ticking away. You were dizzy, vulnerable, and he knew it.

Without effort, he settled you into the backseat, closing the door with a sharp click.

“Open your mouth.”

You obeyed without question. The syringe was positioned against your tongue, and the liquid ran down your throat. But something was different.

The taste was no longer bitter. It was sweet. Addictive. Like licorice with a slight sour touch. You held the syringe, turning the plunger desperately, pressing to see if there was any more drop left.

“Give me more.” Your hands found Jonathan’s face, your fingers sliding over his skin, warm and perfect under your touch. “I need more.”

Jonathan didn’t smile. His gaze flashed with something dark.

“Sit down. Now.”

He pushed you back into the seat, buckling your seatbelt with a firm click. Jonathan took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair, his chest rising and falling in a heavy rhythm. Something about him was different. Distressed? No. He was ecstatic. 

Wasting no more time, he went straight to the wheel, speeding out of the parking lot. His tie was ripped off and thrown aside. His eyes met yours in the rearview mirror. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel. And you were smiling. It wasn’t exactly a happy smile that he’d done a good job in the immersive, cursed therapy he’d subjected you to. 

No, it was part of something deep, embedded in bone, soaked in blood. It was madness on the surface. One that he hadn’t expected to awaken with the substance he’d created. You had your hands between your legs, pressing them together, they were pale from the lack of blood, your thighs, red. Between the buttons of her shirt, sweat ran down your neck to the middle of your breasts,your cerise  bra blocking the way for your necklace to slide down between the gap.

Jonathan's heart was pounding loudly as if it wanted to escape through his throat and find its own way. When your fingers crossed the barrier of your panties, his breath was taken away from his lungs. Your spine arched as you touched your sex, soaked as your clothes were wet in sweat.

“Jonathan…” You mewled, pressing your legs together, the impeccable upholstery of his car being stained by your shame. The smell of sex permeated the leather and plastic-covered walls. “Oh, Jonathan… Jonathan. Help me, doctor. Please. I… I don't know what I'm feeling. I…”

“Stop it.” He roared, looking over his shoulder at you, down at the way his fingers moved quickly on your clit, punishing that spot with force. “Stop now or I swear you're going to suffer. You're gonna be committed to solitary confinement.”

“I can't. I can't.” You sobbed, moving your hips against his hand, a finger sliding gently into your channel. “Doctor, help me.”

“Fuck.” He yelled, banging his head on the seat. “We’re almost there. We’re almost there.” He tried to calm himself down when he saw the facade of the asylum.

Jonathan’s hands weren’t working well, throwing the psychiatry certification card into the doorman’s booth.

“Open this damn thing right now..” He ordered, honking the horn hard, echoing through the cold, dark walls of Arkham’s entrance, shaking the bars.

As he opened the gate, he shot the car inside, parking crookedly in the reserved space. With no time, he practically burst the car door to get out, opening yours with force and pulling you out, almost forgetting to unbuckle your seatbelt.

You were hot. Hot as the hell of Jonathan’s thoughts during the five years you were together. Not wanting to prolong it, he held your hand, leading you not to your cell, but to his office.

A kind guard, noticing the doctor’s chaotic situation, approached with concern. “Sir, what do you intend to do…”

“Open up now and get the fuck out of here.” He growled, squeezing your wrist to the point of hurting the thin flesh of your arm, firm fingers feeling your heartbeat.

The guard trembled, searching for the office keys in a hurry, turning them quickly and making room for Jonathan to enter. The guard didn’t want to know what would happen in that office.

In fact, no one would dare to know.

“Take off your clothes and sit on that couch.” Jonathan hissed through his teeth, closing the door behind him, placing a chair on the doorknob to ensure that no one would enter that place.

You nodded, your fingers doing their best to take off your chemise in record speed, but it was impossible when Jonathan Crane was approaching you not with calculated steps, but hungry, flushed.

“God, can’t you do anything right?” He complained, slapping your hands away, taking a pocketknife from his pocket and ripping your delicate shirt and bra in one go. 

“I’m sorry.” You cried, your lips trembling, your legs shaking. The burning between your legs was not enough to make you remember ethics, modesty and mission.

“Just when I think you’re getting better, you come up with this.” He growled, curling his fingers between your neck, your eyes closing as you bit your lip and the faint metallic taste appeared in your mouth. “You’re terrible. My worst patient. I can’t make you get better with this ridiculous habit of yours seeking validation.”

“Forgive me, I’ll get better.” You begged, whimpered, anything that would make him release you from the agony.

“All you know how to do is apologize? God, you’re pathetic.” He laughed, releasing your neck. Your body fell like lead onto the couch, but he pulled you behind the nape of your neck again, your face in front of the raging erection between Jonathan’s designer pants. “Do you think you’re gonna rest? No, my dear. You’re going to pay for the little show you put on in the car today.”

“I couldn’t stop, I swear.” You whimpered, moving your head over his pants, looking deep into his eyes to place a soft kiss where he was wet.

“If you can’t stop, touch yourself for me while you suck me, pet.” He murmured, letting go of your hair to unbuckle his belt and open the buttons of his pants.

Not knowing for sure if it was the adrenaline of the moment or the time that had passed until arriving at Arkham, your senses began to return. You became more aware. The worst thing. It made you more sensitive.

The veins on Jonathan’s hard cock stood out before your eyes. If you didn’t know him so well, you would say he was just excited, but no. You knew he was just like you, hungry, even worse. And that made you laugh.

“Are you finding this funny, pet?” He scoffed, but his voice betrayed his desperation. Deep, hoarse, tearful.

“It’s just that you’re so eager to fuck me. You didn’t need to drug me for that, doctor.” You replied, not in the same tone, your voice was one of control.

And Jonathan would never let that go, grabbing a handful of hair as he forced your face close to his cock, his other hand slapping it against your face, wettering your cheeks with his pre cum.

“Open your mouth.” He whispered, and he didn’t need to be asked twice. Your mouth opened, wet and hot, her eyes wide and predatory, so different from the ones he saw with the syringe.

Your hand wrapped around his hardness, following the movements of your mouth. Your fluids were uncontrollable, saliva was coming out like a fountain, eyes watering, body cooling down with sweat.

“Your mouth feels so good. No wonder you’re my favorite fucktoy. My best experiment.” He murmured, his mouth open in ecstasy. Both hands cupped your face and he established a frantic rhythm between your swollen lips. “Ah, that’s it. That’s why I wouldn’t trade you for anything. Fuck. You’re so smart. Yes, you’re smart. The best. Your mouth… Shit.”

You grabbed Jonathan’s legs, trying to balance yourself at that pace. Your free hand went to your panties, lifting your hips to get rid of them and finally touch yourself directly. He stopped, pulling away from you with his eyes still closed, his chest rising and falling as he tried to balance his nerves.

“Stand up.” He commanded, finally opening his eyes so he could see you. His eyes went to your panties hanging on the arm of the couch and a dark laugh came out of Jonathan’s throat. He sat on the upholstery, damp with your lubrication, his balls feeling the liquid and mixing with his own sweat. You were open-mouthed, your vision glued to Crane’s manhood, even more visible and hard, if that were possible. 

Jonathan Crane was fucking pornographic. 

“If you can’t stand to go a minute without touching yourself, sit on my cock and fuck yourself. I’m not gonna touch a useless little pet like you.” His voice came out as a mockery, but the desire entwined within didn’t fool anyone. 

Your answer could wait for later.  Your insides couldn’t stand the lack of him anymore. You nodded and placed one leg on either side of Crane’s hips. You didn’t take off your skirt. You knew it turned him on, you knew all his desires. Including sliding inside inch by inch to note every micro change in your face.

“Fuck.”

You saw Jonathan try to hold himself back. Maintain his posture by cursing. Not effective. His hips moved forward, his entire length still inside you, your walls squeezing his cock with no option to get out.

“Did you know I didn’t like what you did to me all these years, doctor Crane?” You began to move your hips, your voice coming out as a weak, tearful meow.

He bit his lip, his eyebrows furrowed, his fists clenched. He was still controlling himself.

“I hated it when you made me take all those horrible medicines with that syringe. You’re so fucking insane for having a kink like that.” You continued, leaning forward, towards his face, grabbing his tie with your fingers. “But I quickly built up resistance, you know? I knew you masturbated when you saw me lying down. I always knew.”

“Impossible.” He gasped, throwing his head back when you thrust harder. “You’re just saying this.”

“And you never knew, because you think I’m just your quiet little pet, doing whatever you wanted so obediently.” You laughed, lifting your thighs and leaving only his tip inside. “Tell me. Was it fun to see me pass out or are you just weird enough that you don’t have the courage to pick up any girl?”

“Shut up, cunt. You know nothing about me. Fuuuck.” He fell silent when you got down completely, continuing the slow dance with your pussy squeezing him.

“I know you, doctor. You know I do. That’s how you put me here, right? Oh, fuck. Your cock feels so good on me, it’s touching my stomach.” You moaned, taking the opportunity to move your hips against him.”Does it feel good, doc? To fuck a girl you’re so in love with?”

“I put you here because you’re fucking insane.” He replied, doing his best not to let the moans escape, his fingers white from holding back so much so as not to touch you.

“That’s not what we talked about, baby.” You laughed, now starting to move up and down to his own madness. “You put me here because you can’t stand anyone knowing about your pathetic little life. Who would’ve thought that the great doctor Crane had never dated a woman in his life? It’s so fucking sad.”

“You’re so stuck up. Do you really think I’d look at someone like you?” He spat harshly, peeling his back off the couch to look into your eyes.

“It’s amazing how the only person you’ve fucked was your drugged patient, Jonathan.” You whispered against his lips. “Are you really the Scarecrow?”

“That’s enough.” He shouted, grabbing your arms with one hand to immobilize you and turning you on the couch with your hands above your head.

“What are you doing?” You mumbled, feeling your arms ache from the force. In the blink of an eye, you only felt a cloth in your mouth. Your panties. He laughed, settling himself between your legs, fitting his cock back inside your pussy with force.

“I want to see if you can be so smart now, my pretty pet.” He whispered the last word in your ear, rising to leave his glasses on the floor and look at your face. “I don’t think you can hold me now.”

Your scream was muffled by the cloth when Jonathan’s hips began to move mercilessly. You closed your eyes tightly, each thrust being better than the last, deeper, crazier.

“What’s wrong? Do you want to say something, sweetie?” He teased. His hand pressed against your belly so you could feel him even deeper, so you knew it was him, your body writhing under the pressure. “What? Don’t tell me you’re enjoying being fucked like this… No, no. A woman as – fuck – intelligent as you? Enjoying my cock stretching you out.”

You couldn’t control your body anymore, your legs flew to Crane’s waist, bringing him closer, deeper. It was delicious and you couldn’t say a damn thing to show him. It wasn’t really necessary. He read you.

“Did you think it would end well after – hmmmg – after spying on me for months like  a plague?” He forced his thrusts even harder, the rhythm increasingly out of whack. “I knew everything. I orchestrated everything so you’d come to me. And you came. Oh, you fell into my trap like a damn pet after its owner. You’re so obedient, you even use the collar i gave you everyday without crying out. I’m starting to think that you like being corrupted by me.”

The necklace, or rather, the collar around your neck, swung between your breasts. Useless proof that you wouldn't complain for a second about being his. He started thrusting slower and harder, hearing your muffled screams matching each thrust. He lowered his face to kiss your neck, nipping the flushed skin and moving up to your ear.

“But I underestimated you, my beauty.” He revealed, returning to your face, where tears were running down unintentionally. “Now I'm gonna take this rag out of your mouth and you're gonna moan for me until everyone in this fucking asylum knows that I ruined Gotham's favorite detective for every other man in this damn city, understand?”

You nodded, watching him take the wet rag out of your mouth, freeing your red arms. “You're a fucking psycho, Jonathan Crane.” You cursed, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull his face closer and seal your lips. 

Jonathan moaned between the kiss, using both hands to hold your waist and establish the fast rhythm again. You moaned to the rhythm, but you didn't leave his mouth. That mouth that pronounced death sentences in that court, the damn one you hunted like a dog to its den, only to end up bewitched by him.

“I hate you, you damn miserable bastard.“Shit– You’re going to hell for making me so fucking addicted by you.” You whimpered, the sweet knot in your stomach getting closer, becoming unbearable beneath you. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I hate you for wanting more. You fucking destroyed me, Jonathan.”

“I did.” He nodded, biting his bruised lip. “I did and I'm gonna give you more, everything you want, because you're greedy. You always want more. You want everything from me. Do you love me that much?”

“Fuck, shut up. I—.” You sobbed, your legs shaking and he already knew what it meant.

“That’s it, cum for me. Make a mess of my cock. Fuck, make it all wet.” He begged, marking your thighs with his fingers, releasing his own pleasure inside you.

“Jonathan, you…” You moaned, arching your back closer to him as the shockwaves of orgasm hit your body, the pleasures mixing and once again, staining Jonathan’s immaculate furniture.

He kept thrusting until his cock pulsated, pumping his seed down your womb, burying his head in your neck to mark you. A reminder of what had happened. He pulled out, sitting on the couch and tossing your panties back to you.

“Clean yourself up. We have one more thing to do.” Jonathan’s voice was broken, a soft gasp escaping before he pulled on his pants and stood up.

He walked across the room, his steps precise and calculated, his eyes scanning the room until he found a mirror. He stopped in front of it, adjusting his hair with his fingers, his clinical gaze assessing his own image, as if each strand out of place was an unforgivable flaw.

“What, exactly?” Your voice came out calmer than his body actually felt, as he obeyed his command without hesitation.

Jonathan didn’t answer right away. He picked up his glasses from the floor, cleaning them with meticulous care before fitting them back on his face.

“You wanted more, so I’ll give to you.” He finally murmured, his voice low, almost indulgent. “You work for me now. I’d be a terrible person if I wasted your precious talent.”

You laughed, standing up. “You are a terrible person, Jonathan.”

He tilted his head slightly, analyzing you with those sharp eyes, full of something indecipherable. “No.” A small smile played across his lips as he lifted her chin between two fingers, his touch light but possessive. "Because this vitamin I gave you will do wonders to your body. My new birth control precisely increases the libido. I know it sounds impossible, but I'm correcting it. Did you like it?"

"As much as I enjoyed taking your virginity?" Your smile mirrored his, sharp and insinuating. Jonathan snorted, his eyes shining with wicked amusement.

"You will always be my favorite."

[pennyserenade]

One of the facts that originally endeared Cillian Murphy the most to me was his life-long love of the Beatles. He once said of them: “The Beatles are my, kind of, musical touchstone..I think they probably represent, in my mind, one of the greatest artistic achievements of the 20th century. Not just musically, but in terms of their humor and their sort of friendship and their tolerance." The Beatles have played such an incredible role in my own life, both creatively and personally, so I thought that this year to celebrate Cillian's 49th birthday, I'd write thirteen one shots starring a variety of characters Cillian has played over the years. Each story will be inspired by a song from each of the Beatles' thirteen albums, starting with Please Please Me and ending with Let It Be. I will post one a week for thirteen weeks. To Cillian, I borrow the words of Sir Paul McCartney when I say: Happy Birthday to you.

WEEK ONE: Please Please Me: Jackson Rippner, Please Please Me

WEEK TWO: With the Beatles: Tom (The Party), Money (That's What I Want)

WEEK THREE: A Hard Day’s Night: ?

WEEK FOUR: Beatles For Sale: ?

WEEK FIVE: Help!: ?

WEEK SIX: Rubber Soul: ?

WEEK SEVEN: Revolver: ?

WEEK EIGHT: Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club: ?

WEEK NINE: Magical Mystery Tour: ?

WEEK TEN: The White Album (The Beatles): ?

WEEK ELEVEN: Yellow Submarine: ?

WEEK TWELVE: Abbey Road: ?

WEEK THIRTEEN: Let It Be: ?

[lau219]

This gif was sent to me by my dear friend @novashelby for the gif-inspired drabble requests I encouraged readers to send me. Thank you for the request, Nova! Once again, this turned into a one shot rather than a drabble. 🤦‍♀️

Upon seeing this gif, I immediately couldn’t help thinking of another situation where Tommy is chasing his woman. Therefore, I ended up writing this with the idea that it’s a little prequel to It Can Wait, the other gif-inspired request I just wrote for my friend @runnning-outof-time.

So, here’s Tommy and Y/N from It Can Wait several years earlier. Notice any behaviors that haven’t changed??? 😉👀😉👀

Come And Get It

One shot: Tommy Shelby x Female Reader

No smut. Mildly suggestive.

•.•.•.•.•

Thomas Shelby never chased anything.

Or anyone.

No. Anything he wanted, he obtained through influence and power, making it happen. It was all brought to him, acquired through other means and tactics under his direction. His status? His power? His reach? He hadn’t chased it; he’d crafted and created it. He’d never had to chase anything, and he assured himself he never would.

And as far as female company went, he never had to chase that, either. The women, they all came to him. Willingly and earnestly, practically crawling to him with the yearning of an eager kitten. He could have his pick of any one of them, and he never chased a single one.

Until her.

For months now, it had been a game of cat and mouse, yet in this case, Tommy was in the previously unfamiliar position of being the eager feline.

From the moment he’d met her, Y/N had captivated Tommy in a way no other woman ever had. Something about her sparkled from the inside out, a vibrance and warmth that won over everyone she encountered. But what called to Tommy more than anything was that she was also a charming troublemaker, witty and sassy with a knack for pushing his buttons in the most frustratingly enticing way, and always leaving him wanting more. She knew the power, the influence, the status Thomas Shelby held, and yet, unlike all the other women, she hadn’t just fallen at his feet.

For months, she’d dangled the carrot, keeping Tommy on his toes and him thinking about her constantly. She’d teased him with plenty of close calls, but always pulled back, taking pleasure in his obvious frustration and always looking for new ways to push his buttons.

But, surprisingly, Tommy had discovered he very much enjoyed the chase, particularly because he knew that, despite her tormenting him, Y/N was just as drawn to him as he was to her. And with every new close call, it was clear she was closer and closer to the brink of giving in, and her little games had become unspoken foreplay between them, her playing hard to get on the verge of an ending that coincided with Tommy’s last threads of patience.

The next time he chased her, she wouldn’t get away.

And that’s exactly what he’d been doing. Chasing her.

Outside the Garrison that night, a large group of them had lingered as they chatted and smoked, the group of friends Y/N was with having finished their drinks for the night and preparing to head home. But while everyone else was milling around in the street, Tommy had remained near the door, leaning against the building as he silently smoked a cigarette. Ordinarily, the last thing he’d be doing was standing around like this, but he wasn’t going to let Y/N out of his sight when surrounded by several other men who’d been served one too many, Arthur and John included amongst that group.

Upon turning around after laughing at something her friend said, Y/N’s gaze landed on Tommy, his cap pulled low and his eyes zeroed in on her beneath it as the tip of his cigarette glowed between his lips. A mischievous smile on her face, Y/N approached Tommy and then stopped in front of him, holding his gaze as she spoke.

“Do you ever do anything other than brood, Mr. Shelby?” she asked him teasingly. “A bit of friendly mingling might do some good for that recurring moody glare of yours.”

Calmly lifting his hand to his mouth, Tommy pulled his cigarette from his lips and exhaled the smoke before replying.

“I don’t mingle, love,” he replied as they continued to look at each other. “I prefer to get right to the point.”

Rolling her eyes and giving another smile, Y/N then stepped even closer to Tommy, stopping right in front of him.

“Always so serious beneath that cap,” she said, her eyes briefly lifting to his hat before then looking at him again. “You need to learn to have some fun, Thomas.”

Flicking his cigarette away then, Tommy pushed off the wall and stood up straight, his chest just brushing hers as he did.

“I’m not sure that you’d be able to handle the kind of fun I enjoy,” he said to her then, his voice especially low.

The mischievous smile still on her face, Y/N ever so slightly pressed her chest more against Tommy’s.

“You don’t think so, hm?” she said.

“No,” he answered, his eyes burning into hers. “But trust me, love…” he fully pressed their chests together then as he paused for effect, “…I know how to have it.”

For the briefest of seconds, Tommy could see the flash of desirous intimidation in Y/N’s eyes. But once more, her beautiful orbs then twinkled with renewed mischief, and she smiled as she lifted her gaze to the top of Tommy’s head, along with her hand. Before he could stop her, Y/N reached out and quickly plucked Tommy’s cap off his head, and their eyes locked for a final moment.

“Prove it,” she said, and then she took off down the street.

It was with every slam of his feet against the cobblestones that Tommy’s determination and arousal intensified as he ran after her. Up ahead, he could hear Y/N giggling and calling out rushed apologies to the few others in the street whom she narrowly missed or bumped into as she darted between them.

Tommy’s hat still in her grasp, Y/N looked over her shoulder to see him several yards behind her, his brothers trailing him. While having no context of the situation, Arthur and John had enthusiastically followed after Tommy anyway, eager for a fight in their slightly drunken state and assuming Tommy was in pursuit of someone to beat up. But Y/N was Tommy’s only focus, and as he rushed past every spot and pedestrian that she’d dashed by just seconds before, he realized somewhere in the back of his mind that this was a woman he’d never tire of chasing.

Reaching the lively end of the long street where music was drifting out from inside the still open jazz club, Y/N had nowhere else to go but inside. Tommy still down the street about a half dozen yards, Y/N reached for the handle of the door of the club, hurriedly pulling it open with her free hand and darting inside. Pausing for the briefest moment to look around, she saw there was still a hefty amount of patrons throughout the large room and at the bar despite the late hour, and she did her best to quickly blend in amongst them, her eyes fixed on the door where she knew she’d soon see Tommy.

Having remained completely focused on Y/N up ahead, Tommy had seen her pause for a split second before rushing inside the jazz club at the end of the street. As he himself reached the door, he paid no mind to Arthur and John as they breathlessly followed behind him, still oblivious to their brother’s actual target.

He himself slightly winded and his hair disheveled from the way Y/N had pulled his cap from his head, Tommy was breathing unsteadily through his mouth as he entered the main room of the club. His eyes scanned the area slowly, carefully, intent on finding Y/N amongst the crowd and ignoring the several odd looks he was getting from the club’s patrons as he made his way through the room. Walking with slow intention, Tommy’s eyes looked everywhere and his head was turning in all different directions as he searched for Y/N, determination once again coursing through him as he did.

Already distracted by some other women who had caught their eyes, Arthur and John soon lost interest in Tommy’s endeavor, and they no longer followed him as he prowled through the room.

But as soon as Tommy had entered the club after her, Y/N had spotted him, and when she saw him making his way closer and closer to the bar as he searched for her, she subconsciously gripped his cap more tightly in her hand.

It was when a small group at the bar shifted and moved that Tommy finally spotted her, the group’s minor commotion enough to have grabbed Tommy’s attention. His cap still in her hand, Y/N stood at the bar, her cover now blown, and as Tommy spotted her and their eyes locked, his parted lips were suddenly forming into a predatory smile as it was clear Y/N realized she now had nowhere else to go.

Or so Tommy thought.

But as he was still holding her eyes and closing the remaining space between them, Y/N suddenly moved again, stepping away from the bar and making her way back towards the entrance, once again dodging people as she wove through the crowd. She and Tommy’s eyes remained locked the entire time, and as Tommy made his way back though the room as he yet again followed her, he was thinking about the one hundred and one ways he’d show her just what a big mistake she’d made by testing him once he had her truly without an escape.

Nearing the front door of the club once more, Y/N was walking backwards to keep her eyes on Tommy as he followed her, the two of them in a silent showdown. But just before she reached for the door, Tommy spoke, his voice heavy with threatening desire.

“I’m going to need that back, love,” he said, gesturing to his cap still in her hand. “And if you know what’s good for you, you won’t make me come after you for it again.”

Her smile unfolding across her face once more, Y/N lifted her hand that clutched his cap.

“You want it, Thomas?” she said seductively as she dangled the cap tauntingly in the air. She then used her other hand as well to grasp the cap and smugly tugged it down onto her own head.

“Then come and get it,” she finished.

His gaze unrelenting, Tommy replied.

“You’re on incredibly thin ice, darling,” he said in a warning tone. “Now, am I going to get what I want, or do you plan on running again?”

They both knew that they weren’t just talking about Tommy’s hat.

“What do you think?” Y/N replied with a smirk, and she pushed the door of the club open partially in indication that she planned to take off again.

“Alright, go on then,” Tommy said, and he jerked his head towards the door, “I’ll even give you an intentional head start this time. But keep in mind that wherever you lead us next, you’d better hope it’s warm inside.”

Her self-assuredness slightly faltering at Tommy’s words, Y/N furrowed her brow in confusion, her head tilting.

“What? Why?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking.

At that, Tommy gave her a look that would have stopped a lesser woman’s heart, and upon hearing his next words, Y/N was squeezing her thighs together and quickly trying to think of the next nearest place she could lead him that offered some secluded warmth.

“Because, love,” Tommy said, his voice lower than she’d ever heard it and his devilish smirk returning, “once I catch you, that hat is going to be the only piece of clothing that I leave on your body.”

@novashelby @runnning-outof-time @xsweetcatastrophe @meister95 @toobusyshrimping

@ennui-whimsy-and-me @ryecosse @teawonderfultea-blog1 @febris-amatoria @allie131313

@garrison-girl-08 @beastofburdenxo @zablife @evita-shelby @wonderlanddreamer

@breakthestereo @mrs-bond @cillmurphyslover @cillianbabe @bleakmidwinter00

@bouquet-and-pearls @nyxxie-pooh @fuseburner @neonpurplestars89-blog @alltoowellbeneaththemangotree

@mischievouslittlecreature @fkmarrycill @vastcapacity @galactict3a @pkmonka

@birdaquarius @mostly-marvel-musings @hairica

[darlingsfandom]

Camboy

anon: Can you write something about Neil, where he works in Gumshoe during the day but at night he works as a cameraman for a pornstar (the reader is there), who else is his favorite. As time goes by, the reader realizes that his cameraman, Neil, is a very interesting man and decides to experience him, very interesting, since he is still a virgin. So yes I want something smut and also sex tape.

TW: loss of virginity , p in v, unprotected sex, camera sex.

Not proofread.

Neil Lewis, a simple man with a simple life. He loved his job, his friends and his family. He was always at Gumshoe because he owned it and ran it with pride, but that didn’t always pay the bills so by night Neil had his own little secret that no one knew about until now.

The sun was setting on the horizon as he finished picking up around the store until the little bell above the signaled someone walking in. Neil looked up to see you standing there and it was as if an angel had walked in because you were being bathed in the sunlight.

“Welcome to Gumshoe!” He spoke up making you look in his direction.

“Hi! I have a return!” You dug through your bag before you handed him a vhs tape.

“Oh okay, thanks.” He took it from your hand. “You know I’ve never seen you before , I’d remember a face like yours… so you’d you end up with a return.”

Your cheeks turned pink as you tucked your hair behind your ear. “I was doing a favor for a friend.” Your hands ran nervously over your stomach while Neil took the return to put it back into the system.

“You’re a good friend.” He spoke up and everytime he spoke to you there was something you couldn’t place your finger on but you swear you knew him. You said a goodbye and waved as he waved back but it wasn’t goodbye because as you walked down the sidewalk it hit you where you’ve heard his voice before and why he looked familiar.

You ran back through the door making Neil jump a little when you came back in a hurry. He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Did you need something else?” He gave a half hearted smile before you thought it over one last time.

“I.. you… you’re on camboy.net!” You grinned ear to ear. Neil’s eyes went wide, cheeks dark red and his mouth hung open because he never told anyone about that so how did you know? He furrowed his eyebrows because you’re a stranger who knows his secret.

“How did you know that?”

“Because I watch you! I’d recognize that voice and plus your hands.” You pointed at his hands that he quickly tried to hide. Neither of you spoke a word for what felt like ages when in reality only three minutes had passed. Neil looked around before leaning in to you.

“Please, no one knows and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Your secret safe with me.” You batted your eyelashes at him while running your finger up his arm which gave Neil goosebumps. As confident as he was as a camboy he still had never touched a woman in a sexual manner. “But can I ask something that’s a little selfish?” Neil nodded before you pressed your hand onto his chest. “Will you call me a good girl?” Neil’s cock twitched. He nodded before placing his hand on your waist, pulled you close which made you giggle and his cock twitch again because you were too damn cute.

“Such a good girl.” He whispered into your ear and thighs clenched tightly as his lips gently brushed against your ear lobe. You whined softly. Neil couldn’t help himself when you made such a pretty sound. “Do you always make those noises?” He asked. You nodded a little bit before stepping back, smoothed out your dress and smiled at him.

“You know if you’d ever want a partner for your videos…” you pulled out a piece of paper from your bag and a pen so you could write down your address. “Don’t be afraid to stop by.” You handed him the paper to which Neil smiled when his fingers brushed over yours.

“I get off in twenty…” he blurted out making you stop in your tracks. “If you want to…”

You sat down on the couch in the store and Neil quickly finished up cleaning , making sure everything was all set to go and double checked everything in his office. He went in there to also calm himself down because it was happening ! He was going to be touching a woman in more than just a make out session. He came back out to see you sitting and he wanted to take you right there!

“I’m all set if you are.” He rubbed the back of his neck before you stood up, grabbed his hand and squeezed it.

Once you got back to Neil’s place he was over the moon. His place was closer and you didn’t mind. This was a dream come true. He opened the front door for you making you smile. Neil put his hand on your hip to help you up the stairs and into the room that he made his porn in.

“I take it, this isn’t where you sleep.” You laughed making him laugh too.

“No , that’s across the hall and maybe you’ll see that too.” He lead you into the room before guiding you to the bed. Neil grabbed his camera and set it up how he normally does while you sat swinging your legs. “That’s all set up and ready to go when you are doll.”

You stood up and threw your bag to the side before turning your back to him. “Unzip me.” You looked over your shoulder with soft eyes that made Neil almost pass out. He stumbled over his own two feet before he unzipped your dress slowly. His eyes stared in awe as the fabric pooled around your feet.

“Sweetheart, what is your name?” Neil’s hands ran over your curves.

“Y/N but you can call me whatever you want.” Neil bit his bottom lip before he walked back to the camera.

“Do you want this to be live honey?”

“I have no problem with that.” Neil had his own camera set up before he turned on the computer and got everything set up on the website. You waited on the bed in your red panties as he did what he needed to do. Soon as he was live all the little “dings” that let him know people were watching was going crazy. Neil didn’t say a word before he walked back over to you and sat down next to you. His hand rested on your thigh before giving it a squeeze. You looked at him before cupping his cheek in your hand. His eyes looked right into yours before he kissed you. His lips were soft moving against yours.

His fingers trailed up your thighs until he moved between them and felt your wet panties. He smirked against your lips.

“I’ve barely touched you darling and you’re wet.”

“That’s what you do to me.”

Neil spread open your legs, held them there and looked at the camera before winking at it. His fingers moved to grab your panties and pulled them down to show off your wet pussy. “Fuck! Look at you! Such a pretty little pussy.” His thumb ran over your folds making you gasp before he put his index finger inside of you slowly. Neil watched how your face scrunched in pleasure and it was better than any porn he’s ever watched,

Neil waisted no time before getting on his knees in front of you, holding your legs open and shoving his face deep between your thighs to lick at your pussy.

“Such an eager boy! That’s its baby! Fuck!” You praised Neil as he licked up and down your pussy. He’s never ate pussy before but he’s doing a good job. He’s watched enough porn to figure it out. Your hands gripped the red sheets below you as Neil looked up at you through his eyelashes. He looks so pretty. His tongue flattened out so he could taste every inch of you. You bit your bottom lip holding back your moans until Neil pulled away to stand between your legs.

“Can’t wait to fuck you sweetheart.” He laid on top of you so he could kiss you heavily. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. The two of you were gabbing at each other like horny animals. As the two of you made out Neil pulled away to whisper into your ear that he’s a virgin. Your eyes went wide and you laid there looking at him before he started to pull away, you grabbed his face and pulled him down for a kiss.

“Anything you don’t want to do…” you started as he looked into your eyes.

“I want this.” Neil dragged his hands over your body before he stood up, dropped his own pants and boxers letting his cock spring free.

“Jesus…” you gasped looking at his cock. It wasn’t the first time you had seen it but seeing it in person was much different. Neil stroked his cock in front of you slowly before waking to the dresser but you grabbed his hand. “No baby, I want it raw.” You blew him a little kiss and Neil jumped back onto the bed. He pulled you closer , grabbed your leg and wrapped it around his waist as he lined up the head of his cock to your cunt and pushed in gently.

A soft moan came out of your lips. Neil’s cock was average in length but the girth was the biggest you’ve had. He pushed his cock all the way in making him groan because he’s finally loosing his virginity to such a pretty girl even though he had only known you for a few hours in person, he knew that you had been supporting him for awhile. How could a pretty girl like you be attracted to him? He wasn’t going to question it now! He was too busy fucking you like a gentleman.

You looked into his eyes as he fucked into you. You laid face to face on your side which Neil enjoyed too, he loved watching how your eyes would roll , the way your lips twitched before a moan fell out and god those moans of yours were driving him crazy. To be fair hearing a girl actually moan for him was going to kill him but he didn’t care. Your hands grabbed his arms as he picked up the pace.

“Shit, I’m not going to last!” Neil whined as he felt his climax quickly approaching .

“That’s okay honey. Cum for me!” You kissed him hard yet passionately and that’s what took Neil out . He squeezed your waist tightly as he came inside of you with a loud whimper.

“Aww good boy! Good boy.” You ran your fingers through his hair as he panted looking up at you but he wasn’t done. Neil fucked his load into you. He gave it his all , the room smelled of sex! The sounds of his load squelching inside you echoed along with all the dings from the computer reminding you that people were watching it was a lot and your nails dug into his skin as you cried out that you were cumming as well. Your organs hit hard, which made you squeeze his cock and Neil whined again since he was still overstimulated.

Both of you laid there panting with soft grins on your faces. He pushed the hair on your forehead out of the way so he could place a loving kiss to it. Very slowly Neil pulled out of you, got up, ended his stream, turned off the camera and looked back you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” You perked up on your elbows.

“I know it’s a little early to ask this, but would you want to do that again?” Neil asked as he helped you to your feet

“What? Have sex?”

“Yes but the live again… well no all of it !”

“Of course.” You smiled at him before he wrapped his arms around you tightly and took you with him to clean up the mess you two had made.

[shewrites444]

arranged - part 2 [thomas shelby x reader smut]

[ this is part 2 of my first thomas shelby fic, arranged, which you can read through the link. i will say this storyline is a bit heavier in terms of tommy’s tv character, given he can be, well, toxic. also, this fic is like extremely detailed, just as a fair warning. ]

word count - 3.4k

[ summary - months after their wedding night, the reader and tommy experience their first real issue at arthur’s birthday dinner. there’s much more to their relationship than they realize, as they physically prove to each other how deep their affections go. ]

[ warnings - jealousy, accusations of cheating, dirty talk, slight bondage, unprotected & rough sex ]

-

shockingly, the morning after tommy and i first slept together, we grew much closer to each other, so much so that i had a trusted role through the peaky blinders when it came to their finances and arrangement of meetings. tommy was reluctant at first, but given that i was the reason they were five times wealthier and also had much more property now, my points were well made to him and his family.

i wouldn’t say i was bossy, but i knew what i wanted, and despite tommy’s attitude in front of his family, he sure seemed to like it when we were alone. i thoroughly believed i knew him pretty well, even if we had only been married for four months now.

i knew i didn’t want to be the type of woman who stayed back home and let their husband do all the work, but there were days where i was exhausted, wether it was from staying up late working on the money distribution, or making sure tommy’s son was asleep before the sun was up. overall, i wanted to work, and i wanted to have a place in not necessarily the peaky blinders, but his family, because they were now mine too, and truthfully, the only people i had now that my father was gone.

something polly and i agreed to work on together was arthur’s birthday dinner. i wasn’t very close to arthur, which was perfectly fine, but i wanted tommy’s family to know i cared. polly needed the help anyway, given how busy the boys had been lately, so i kept my promise to help her set up, plan the guest list, and get the gifts for arthur. from what tommy told me, he seemed to be having a rough time lately, but a party would probably cheer him up and help him get out of such a negative headspace, even if it was only for a few hours.

after we finished setting out the utensils, i rushed upstairs to get myself ready before tommy came home. part of me was hoping tonight wasn’t all about business for tommy, because while we had grown much more fond of each other lately, his mind was still so enclosed in his work. i knew we weren’t in love, but we had something there - more than just physically.

as i was slipping on my evening gown, i hear the bedroom door creak open, turning around to see tommy, who looked up to me with a drunken smile. my eyes widen a bit, more confused than shocked to see him in such a drunken state so early, as i walk towards him, helping him slip off his jacket onto the hanger next to the door.

“arthur insisted we start the party early. i promise this wasn’t intentional, [y/n]. i don’t want to be in too much trouble so soon with you.” tommy said through a suggestive smile, taking my face in one hand before pulling me into a kiss, the taste and smell of whiskey heavy against his lips.

i return his kiss, but lightly push him off of me, walking back to the dresser to grab my necklace from the jewelry box. tommy walks over and takes it from my hands, brushing my hair off my neck and clasping the metal for me. i smile softly, looking to him through the mirror and shaking my head in disbelief, amazed that he even agreed to get drunk so early in the evening.

“i may have to monitor you tonight, tommy. how many drinks have you had?” i question as i turn around, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him into another kiss.

i feel his hands slide down my back and to my ass, attempting to lift me onto the dresser before i stop him once again. i shake my head, pecking his lips again before pulling away. “that gives me a pretty clear answer.” i tease, leaning down to slip on my heels. “i didn’t think i’d have to be babysitter tonight, especially for my husband, the most serious man i know.”

“oh, [y/n], you and i both know i can loosen up when i choose to.” he took my hand and walked towards the door, opening it and gesturing for me to walk through first. he snaked his arm around my back, holding me tightly, and protectively, as we walked down the wooden stairs. “who knows, maybe i’ll loosen this tonight too.” he pats my ass, tugging at the fabric of my silk dress, which only made me blush at his suggestion. i roll my eyes and link our arms together, opening the front door to begin our short walk to the brewery.

a fairly large crowd of tommy’s family and friends were already there, surrounding the bar and drinking more alcohol than what i’d ever seen in my life. there was a side of tommy’s family i wasn’t fully exposed to yet, and i knew i’d receive quite the introduction to it tonight.

“there’s some people i’d like you to meet tonight. is that alright?” he asks in a more serious tone, despite his drunken appearance. even with alcohol in his system, tommy still knew how to conduct business, and the room around him.

i nod at his question, to where he then takes me to the bar and gestures me towards several people, business colleagues and family friends, who were all very kind to me, and addressed me never by my first name, only “mrs. shelby”.

i felt someone bump into me, averting my eyes from the woman i was speaking to and to none other than arthur, who was so drunk that i was almost surprised polly wasn’t having a nervous breakdown at the sight of the much more than tipsy birthday boy. i give him a soft smile and shake my head, taking his arm and helping guide him to one of the round tables.

“i think you need water, arthur. let me go get you one.” i say, standing up and staring to walk towards the bar again, before his hand unexpectedly grabs me by the waist, forcing me down onto his lap. my cheeks go red in the matter of a millisecond, immediate discomfort and anxiety rising to the surface.

“stop it, arthur, please. just let me go get you something to drink.”

arthur chuckles, keeping his grip so firm on my waist that i genuinely couldn’t get up without causing a scene. “[y/n], i always thought you were too good for tommy, from the day i met you. change it up a bit, eh? he wouldn’t mind it for a night.”

i scoff, glancing down to the drunk arthur before aggressively pushing myself off of him, taking the drink he was holding in one hand away and setting it on the table across from him.

“fuck off, arthur. you’re his brother. i know it’s your birthday, but i am the last thing you’d be getting as a gift tonight.” i run my hands down my dress to brush off the wrinkles his grip created. “sober up.”

i turn around and walk away with a quickening pace, opening the brewery door and heading back to the house. a part of me was hoping tommy didn’t see that because i knew he’d make a scene, and tonight wasn’t the night to cause any trouble.

i walked into the kitchen and grabbed a cigarette, lighting it the second i sat down at the dining room table, sighing as i blew out the smoke and rested back into the chair. it wouldn’t leave my head, the whole situation. i knew i had to tell tommy because he’d be upset if he found it out from anyone but me, and i knew this was going to be some sort of trust test - if arthur was lying, or if i was. fuck. either way, i had to go back, or they’d be confused as to where i was, and the last thing i wanted tonight was for the attention to be on me.

walking back to the brewery with a cigarette in hand, i opened the door and returned to the reeking smell of alcohol. i wince as it hits my nostrils, forcing myself into the room that now felt so suffocating.

i feel a light tap on my shoulder and glance down to see polly, a frown on her face as she guides me to the corner of the room.

“you know have to tell me what happened, dear. i’ve got arthur in the other room, far away from tommy. i don’t think he’s aware of the whole situation, but arthur didn’t seem to help explain your side.”

i sigh, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall. “of course he didn’t. he tried being suggestive with me and pulled me onto him, made it look like something it definitely was not. i went back to the house to cool off. i don’t want tommy to think it was my doing. i would ne-”

“i know you wouldn’t.” polly gave me a small smile of reassurance. she look my hand and walked me towards the private room in the back, one part of the brewery that was set up more like a meeting room. “tommy’s in there, i think it’s best you go to talk to him. i know you’re being truthful, and i do think he believes you, dear, but he needs to hear it from you. not me.”

i nod, biting at my bottom lip as a pit began to form in my stomach, knowing that this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. while i do think tommy believed me, or i at least hoped so, his image and my own was at stake. people who didn’t know me so well that saw arthur and i’s interaction may take me to be a cheater, and tommy to be carefree towards our marriage, even with his own brother coming into it. the entire situation wasn’t good for anyone.

i creak the wooden door open, meeting tommy’s eyes immediately upon entering the room. i shut it behind me and walk over, standing before the long table he was sitting at, silently. i sigh.

“you know i would never hurt you, tommy. he grabbed me, telling me he wanted me and that i was too good for you. you know i pushed myself off. i wouldn’t do that, ever.” i justify, crossing my arms and looking down at him as he stares at the table. “you, and your entire family, mean a lot to me. i would never want to put this arrangement, or us, in jeopardy.”

tommy sat up, walking towards me and reaching over to hug me softly, where i return his gesture by wrapping my arms around him tightly. i sigh, leaning my head onto his shoulder with relief. after a few seconds, he pulled away, grabbing me by the waist and helping me to sit on the table.

“you know how this looks for me, you, and my family though, right?” tommy begins, sliding up my dress, just enough for it to rest on my lower stomach. “i know you, [y/n], and i trust you, but members of the peaky blinders and others we work with don’t yet. they see you as more a placeholder for the void i haven’t been able to fill in years. do you understand that?”

i frown, looking up to tommy and reaching down to pull my dress back down. “tommy, that’s really not a nice thing to say to me. i don’t think anyone sees-”

“well, they fucking do.” he interrupts, grabbing my hands and setting them on the table.

he loosens his tie and pushes me down on my back, sliding the fabric off and onto my wrists, hastily tying them together above my head before pulling me down, my legs now fully hanging off the table, my heels falling down and onto the floor due to the angle i was laying at.

“you and i both know i don’t care much for what others think, but when it comes to this, to you, i care. you and i aren’t ever going to be perfect, but i think we have something, and i know you agree.” he says, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants down, the sound of the metal clashing against the wooden floor. “we have more than just this,” he says, gesturing to our bodies, “but right now, i’m more focused on those people out there knowing at least apart of us is together.”

i gulp, a rapid heat forming in my core as i watch him undress himself into nothing but his half buttoned dress shirt. he pumps himself in one hand, the other reaching over to rub my clit, causing me to moan loudly upon touch.

he grinned at my response, looking between my legs and watching himself touch me. “you are mine, mrs. shelby. no one else’s. i know you know that, but it seems that i’ll have to prove it to everyone else in the world, too.” he walked closer, grabbing my panties that hung on one leg and slipping the off, before gesturing for me to open my mouth, shoving them inside.

“can you be quiet for just a few minutes, love? i don’t want to fuck you like a whore, but it seems that i have to.” he leaned down to kiss my forehead softly, lips then trailing to my ear. “if you can take it, i’ll let you have your fun with me after, hm? i’ve been so busy lately, we haven’t had much time together. i bet you want my cock inside that pretty mouth of yours, [y/n].”

i nod to my husband, feeling him grab my body and turn me around in response. he helps me to lean against the table, my arms still tied and now laying in front of me as i arch my back, pressing myself against tommy while he aligns himself with my pussy. i feel him slide inside me, moaning through the fabric in my mouth, as tommy does the same, but more freely, of course.

he grabs me by my waist, fucking me like there was no tomorrow for either of us. his hands hold my hips firmly, the sounds of our sweating skin slapping together filling the room, along with the accompaniment of my muffled moans. yet my mouth, being hung open, made my panties to fall out and onto the table, which only caused tommy to slap his hand harshly against my ass, making me yell at his touch.

“you really can’t control yourself, [y/n]? am i going to have to stop?”

“fuck - no, tommy, please don’t stop!” i shout, my hands flat against the table and my face resting on top of them while he rocked my body back and forth. “i-i can put them back, baby, just please don’t stop..”

“this isn’t like you, love, so fucking desperate.. although you always get what you want, so i can’t be surprised. are you getting fucked like you want? you like taking me from the back? it’s not your usual style.” he teases, reaching past me to grab the underwear, tossing them to the floor. “keep talking and they won’t have to go back. i never hear you like this, [y/n]. i like when you beg. i didn’t know you could act like such a slut.”

i shake my head, burying the side of my face into my hands as he only pushes himself deeper, his fast-paced strokes calming down and his rhythm changing into something so much slower, but so much deeper than before. i feel him in my gut, my eyes closing as i savor every thrust he gave me.

“i-i think about it like this, sometimes…” i mutter, leaning my head up and gasping, feeling tommy grab the back of my head with one hand. “you fucking me from behind, so fucking deep, practically torturing me through my orgasm… fuck, tommy, i want it to hurt so much that it feels good.. i want you to make me sore..”

tommy groaned, leaning down to angle himself in a way that he was so deep inside of me that his balls slapped against my clit with each movement. he wiped the sweat off his forehead before moving that hand to my ass, the other holding my waist firmly. “you have a way with words, don’t you, mrs. shelby? i can make it hurt, if that’s what you’d prefer. i can make all those people know how much my wife wants to be treated like a little slut.”

i blush, nodding at his words and resting my chin against the table. “fuck me like you own me, mr. shelby.”

“i think you’re going to have to prove yourself if you want me to do that, love.”

tommy slowly pulls himself out of me, my pussy rapidly pulsating as i adapts to his release, his hands helping assist me into leaning up and onto the floor, where he then laid on his back, erection in the air. i lay on top of him, where he unties the tie and sets it on the ground. he kisses me passionately, taking me by the waist and leaning me up.

“bounce on my cock until you can’t anymore, hm? you wanna hurt, right? this is the best way to do that.” he tilts his head, assisting me into sliding onto his length, causing both of us to heavily moan into the new position, which somehow, brought us both to an even better feeling than before.

“touch yourself for me, love. i wanna see how much you can take.” tommy commands, reaching over to hold both of my breasts, playing with the nipples as i move one hand down to my clit, rubbing the sensitive bud as i grind on top of him, his cock hitting my insides perfectly.

i chew my bottom lip, looking down to tommy as i fuck him, nothing but a plain look that still displayed pleasure on his face, watching me move up and down, my fingers pressing onto my skin while he plays with my tits.

i felt like i was melting, so overstimulated that i wasn’t sure how much longer i could even move. my eyesight was clouded by the sweat on my eyelashes, my entire body drenched in sweat while i fucked my husband through my own touch, my orgasm climbing to the surface and in a matter of seconds, reaching its peak.

“fuck!” i moan, riding it out as i came, my own fluids mixing with tommy’s while he pushed himself up, the two of us thrusting at each other, our bodies clashing through each of our climaxes. i feel tommy fill my insides, my own fluids leaking from between us as he cock blocked anything further.

i pull myself off of him, his orgasm dripping from between my legs as i slowly stand up, holding the table as support, watching tommy walk over to hold me, kissing me gently and leaving love bites across my neck, and chest.

“i’d prefer our motivation to fuck like that not be caused by an outside source the next time, mrs. shelby. if you want to be fucked like a whore, just say it. i think you know i don’t mind.” he grinned, kissing my forehead before walking over to a cart of drinks, grabbing a few towels and sitting me on the table, starting to wipe down my body.

“i don’t think i can be fucked like that for some time, tommy. i don’t think i’d be able to get out of bed in the morning.” i blush, watching him slide the towel down my inner thighs to wipe himself off of me. “we’ve been gone for awhile anyway, don’t you think we should get back to the party?”

“in just a minute, [y/n].” tommy says, setting the towel down before spreading my legs a bit further. he kisses between my thighs, before gently rubbing my clit, causing my back to arch at the touch. “i think my wife needs to cum again, don’t you think?”

i sigh, leaning back against the table and holding the sides of it. “fuck, tommy.” i moan feeling his arms wrap around my thighs, his face now buried between my heated skin. “i think so, too.”

[fel-09]

Your touch and Tights

Jonathan crane x reader

+16

Jonathan really likes your tights and one day he couldn't resist taking them off from you

You're sitting on the couch, the weight of Jonathan Crane's gaze pressing down on you harder than the air in the waiting room. He's crouched on one knee in front of you, deliberately slow, as if he's not just approaching, but taking over the territory. His cold eyes-the shimmering ice beneath the glass of his glasses-into yours, not letting you pull away, not letting you look away even for a moment.

His fingers barely touch the fabric on your thigh-a light, almost intangible gesture, but it makes your breath hitch. He guides his palm higher, tracing the line of the stocking with the pads of his fingers, pressing slightly, making you feel every inch of the movement. Then slender fingers sneak under the fabric, and where a second ago there was taut material, there is only the burning cold of his skin.

He takes his time - prying the fabric just above his knee, pulling it down slowly, savoring the moment. The tights gradually slide down, revealing soft, warm skin, and his fingers follow, lingering in the curves, exploring each line as if memorizing it.

You're barely aware of your hand reaching up to his face on its own. The glasses on the bridge of your nose glisten in the semi-darkness, hiding part of your gaze, but you want to see more. You take them off slowly, with deliberate care, letting the thin temples slide along his temples. In that instant, he freezes-allowing you this action-but a subtle smirk touches his lips, as if he's giving away power but really just playing with it.

And then, as the glasses slide down, his palms grip your thighs tighter. He leans in, his lips touching the inside of your thigh-at first innocently, a ghostly, barely perceptible touch, then deeper, hotter. The kiss leaves a trail that makes it feel as if your skin has memorized his touch.

My breath is cut short. He continues-lips, tongue, a hot, lazy touch, digging deeper into the burning desire.

His lips slid higher, leaving invisible marks behind, traces of heat that spilled over her skin. He teases, taking his time, letting the tension build like a taut string ready to break.

Your fingers, still clutching his glasses, tremble, but he intercepts your hand, snatches them from your fingers, and drops them carelessly on the couch beside you. Something predatory and dark flashes in his gaze, and before you realize the movement, he's pushing you deeper into the soft cushions.

- Hold on to me," his voice is husky, a little lower than usual.

You obey. Your palms find support on his shoulders, feel the tension beneath the fabric. He moves lower again, returning to the spot where his lips just touched you. His tongue runs over the sensitive skin, his fingers pressing into your hips, holding you in place.

You feel his breath against your skin-hot, ghostly, lingering. The tights finally slide down, slipping off your fingertips, and he tosses them aside without a second's hesitation.

- Much better," he whispers, running his lips higher, letting you feel their softness before his teeth clamp down on the most sensitive point of your thigh.

That bite makes you arch up, your fingers clenching harder on his shoulders. He laughs-quietly, with a touch of smugness.

- Sensitive," he notes with a touch of satisfaction, leaning in again to cover your skin with a new, even more searing kiss.

Jonathan took his time. He was looking at you with the kind of lazy concentration that made your heart beat faster.

He moved forward, and before you realized what was happening, his palm was on your chest. One precise movement and you're already falling back against the soft cushions of the couch.

His body looms overhead, making the air around you feel like it's thickening. His breathing is heavy, deep-as if he's holding himself back, letting the moment stretch out.

His hand rests on your knee, his fingers tightening slightly, feeling the warmth of your skin. Slowly, leisurely, his palm slides higher, up the inside of your thigh, until his fingers are between them. A barely perceptible movement, and your legs spread apart, as if succumbing to that heavy, lazy power.

He leans lower, his breath against your skin, his gaze keen, as if he's studying your every emotion, savoring it,

And the tights had been lying on the floor for a long time.

[cillianssweet]

OH MY FUCKING GODDDDDDD

A Female Y/N / Cillian fanfic (Part Fifty Seven)

Absolutely not based on anything real at all, all totally fictional, fanciful and is all total bollocks.

Warnings for sexual references and language. Adult themes. Not suitable for under 18s.

We Got Issues

Part Fifty Seven: Y/N finds an article online after their shopping trip and isn't impressed, but Cillian is distracted. When she finds out why he's so distracted, she's met with something life changing. [Fluff/Anxiety]

@cherrycilly @whatcjdidnext @aesthetic0cherryblossom @meister95 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @watermeezer @meadowshelby @strangeions @borntodiemp3 @lavender-haze-01

“Have you seen this?” You say, sitting on the edge of the bed. You don't wait for an answer, and you continue talking as you stare at your phone. “Peaky Blinders front man Cillian Murphy, who is expecting a baby with partner Y/N in the summer, was seen scoping out baby items at a local Dublin shopping centre. The couple were approached by eager fans, though the Tommy Shelby actor was less than willing to engage.” You shake your head, “Y/N was allegedly pushed by an all-too-eager fan which sparked a sharp reaction from Murphy, 48. The pair were then seen with shop staff as they loaded their car with baby items, before later being spotted enjoying lunch at Russino’s burger bar.” You scoff and finally look up. “It's bullshit, and it's not even fucking news.” You sigh. “Cillian?” You moan his name when you realise he isn't even listening. 

“Hand me that…fucking thing.” Cillian says, looking up at you. He's sat on the bedroom floor, legs spread wide, attempting to screw together the folding legs of the Moses basket you had settled on at Smyth's on Saturday. He had planned on getting Aran and Malachy involved yesterday, but when both boys turned down the usual dinner and asked for a weeknight instead, he had taken it a little to heart and moped around the house a little in their absence. But today he seemed past it, and had insisted he got on with the fairly simple job by himself. It's ten am, and so far he has been staring at the cross-over action of the legs for thirty minutes trying to work it out. 

“You know, I can do it if you're finding it impossible.” You say, standing up to hand him the small bag of screws, bolts and fixings. “Love?” You say when he doesn't respond. “You're terrible at this.” You add, smirking. 

He looks up at you again, where you're standing at the side of the bed, and the firmness in his eyes is hilarious. “I can do it.” He says, raising a single eyebrow. You want to laugh. His cheeks are flushed, he's clearly frustrated, but he's determined that he's building the stand. “He grunts as his hand slips, attempting to line the two holes up for the screw to be fixed, and he sighs with moan. “Fuck it.” He tuts. “Okay, I can't do it.” He does laugh at himself, though, as he groans and pushes himself up off the floor, but you can see he's annoyed at himself too. You don't know why, though - you both know he's terrible at this sort of thing. 

“I'll do it, Cill. Or, if you want, we can wait until the boys come on Wednesday evening and you can do it with them.” You suggest. 

“Ah, yeah I know, but…like, you said about wanting the place ready. If she decides she's coming, she needs this to be her home.” He says, looking at you with a strange frown. 

You give him a soft smile and set your palm down in the centre of his chest. Lifting your face, you kiss him softly. “I know.” You say quietly. “But we have the basket, so she has a place here now. And the dining room is full of boxes - her car seat, the pram, the steriliser, the bottles…” you smile softly. “She has a place here.” 

His eyes soften and he reaches up his hand, cupping it around the back of your head. “Yeah,” he inhales as he whispers the word, and it's still one of your favourite Irishisms. He smiles softly, and grants himself a kiss, kissing against your bottom lip with his mouth parted slightly. It's an insistent kiss, a needy kiss, a kiss that says ‘lets take this further’, and as his other hand settles around your back and quickly travels down against your arse, your inference is confirmed. He pulls your body as close as your bump will allow. But he pulls back his head, looking at you with wide pupils and a soft, alluring smile. 

“What?” You ask, brows twitching curiously. 

“I've to ask you something,” he says, and there's a nervous edge to his words. 

You laugh at him, “If it's for a threesome, then it's a definite no.” You tease. He smiles, but you can see he doesn't want to joke. You frown a little. “What is it?”

He takes a deep breath and swipes his tongue across his bottom lip. His eyes move side to side as he struggles to choose which of your eyes he'll settle on. “Will you marry me,” he says clearly. 

Your mouth bobs open and you struggle to find your breath, never mind words. “You…ma…w-what?” 

He smiles a little, “Marry me.” His hand against your backside moves up to the middle of your back, and he brings the hand on the back of your head around to your cheek. “There's so many reasons I would never want to do it again, Y/N, but you and this baby are the reason I do want to. I love you so fucking much. I want you to be my wife.” He raises his eyebrows slowly as you stare back at him, wonderfully dumbfounded. “Is that a no?” He smirks nervously. 

You shake your head quickly, “Of course it fucking isn't! Yes! Fuck, Cillian, yes! If course I'll fucking marry you!” you pull him closer and kiss him firmly, your hands cupping around his cheeks to hold him there until you've had your fill of snogs. “You're serious?” You ask him when you finally pull your lips from his. “You really want to get married?” 

He pulls a face, “No. I really want to marry you.” 

Somehow, that's an even better answer. You smile softly, but it soon broadens. “So I'm your fiancée now?” 

He smirks, “I suppose y’are, yeah.” He drops his arms from your and pushes his left hand into the front pocket of his jeans. “You'll need this then.” He says, drawing out a small blue box. 

Your jaw drops open, “Cillian…” 

He brings the box to his chest and slowly opens the lid. Inside, on the bed of black velvet, is a silver band with three emerald stones set side by side. He reaches his right hand into the box and picks up the ring. You hold your left hand out to him, your eyes beginning to fill with warm tears, and your fingers shake as he carefully slides the ring onto your finger. “You're definitely gonna marry me then?” He smiles at you, cupping your newly decorated hand in his. 

You nod your head, sniffling softly. “Name the fucking day,” you say, and you push yourself as close to him as you can. You kiss him tenderly, and his hand snakes around your back to hold you close. Waking up this morning, this would never have been on your bingo card. It takes mere seconds for your anxiety to hijack your happiness, and you feel the hard thud of your heart in your chest. Why is he asking now? He was against the idea before - look at your birthday gift! So why? Was it truly the cementing of his wants in the promise of the baby that had changed his mind? …or was this because Yvonne and Adam were getting married? You stare at his face as every thought passes through your mind, and your silently scream at every one of them to fuck off and stop ruining this. He wants you to be his wife, to give you the same surname your daughter will have… fuck off, every bad thought! 

“Will we take this to the bed, Mrs Murphy to be?” He grins at you. You smile at him, but you know your eyes must belie the gesture. His face settles into a concerned frown. “What's the matter?” 

You shake your head slowly, “Nothing, love.” You say quietly. You can't utter the silly thoughts - it'd ruin everything. “I'm happy.” 

“You are?” He asks, needing to be sure. 

You nod your head slowly and smile as convincingly as you can. “So happy.” 

[boiohboii]

A mini heart attack: sponsored by YN and Cillian

(Cillian murphy x driver! Fem reader)

masterlist // part 1

Faceclaim: Angelina Jolie

Liked by lance_stroll, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 1,718,042 others

mickschumacher: I do sometimes calk them mom and dad

username: IT'S YOU!!!

username: you had every single yn and cillian fan lose their mind FOR A FUCKING WEEK!!!

username: it's me, hiii, I'm the problem it's me

username: he was watching twitter burning down with a smile

username: noooo!!! I just got emotionally ready to see yn and cillian's children, you can't do that to me!!

landonorris: can I call yn mum too?

lance_stroll: no

oscarpiastri: sure, if you want a repeat of what happened last time

landonorris: I hate you guys, I still get nightmares

lance_stroll: it was actually mick's idea

landonorris: @.mickschumacher you evil human being, how do you even come up with something that traumatising!

mickschumacher: if you want a doll talking to you at 3 am keep going

[peakyscillian]

Cillian Murphy | Reader Insert Masterlist

I'm no longer writing reader insert fics - so this is just a place to find all my previous ones.

Main Cillian Masterlist | Divider by @/strangergraphics

One Shots ◦Date Night - Boyfriend!Cillian

◦Break - Based off writing prompts, Cillian & Y/N break up.

◦Unexpected - Everything that’s worthwhile comes unexpectedly.

◦Magic - The worse period pains of your life so far? Soft!Cillian can help.

◦Away - Cillian is living in Manchester for PB filming & that results in cute Skype calls.

◦Practice - Cillian needs help with a tricky scene.

◦Hitched - It's your wedding day & Cillian finally gets to see your dress.

◦Backseat - Expanded on my NSFW alphabet wild card.

◦When I kissed the teacher - Cillian has a fantasy

◦Storm - Fluffy!Cillian x Reader.

◦Needy - maybe you’re just a tiny bit needy.

◦Scars to your beautiful - an Angsty Cillian One Shot

◦I miss you - Cillian needs to prove he only has eyes for you

.◦Normal - Sometimes Cillian gets to lead a normal life.

◦Six Months - It's been a long six months for Cillian

◦It's My Birthday - Birthday fic for @janelongxox

◦Solo - Cillian needs some alone time

◦Spice - Twenty years of marriage, maybe things need spicing up.

◦Rebel - Cillian is trying to get his teenage daughter to like him again

◦Man Like You - Is Reader too young for a man like Cillian?

◦Love Affair - Cillian and Reader fell in-love on set, can they keep it a secret on the red carpet.

◦First - There's a first time for everything.

◦Fright - Why did you decide to say yes to Cillian when he suggested watching a horror movie

◦Explosive - Sometimes you just can’t wait.

◦From The Start - Christmas is the perfect time to tell someone how you’ve felt from the start.

◦This Christmas - Starting new traditions this Christmas.

◦Drifting - You and Cillian have been drifting apart lately. Part One | Part Two

◦Caught - Mutually checking each other out - can only lead to one thing, right?

◦Anxious Darling - Sometimes you just can’t shake the anxiety

◦Valentines - Cillian doesn’t believe in Valentines Day, but y/n is determined to make him see sense!

◦Easter - Easter with the family.

◦Match - The perfect match.

◦Daddy's Home - Cillian’s been away filming for months, finally he’s home.

◦Proposal - Cillian is finally popping the question.

◦Sharing - “Because we drank too much last night” Part One | Two

◦Medicine - Cillian and family time is the best medicine

◦Pink - Cillian arrives home early from filming.

◦Canvas - Reader has an idea, Cillian is definitely on-board.

◦Merry Christmas, Baby - The christmas party ends with an early christmas gift.

◦Relax - Cillian knows how to make you relax

◦Perfect Valentine - Cillian does something he really doesn’t want to do, so reader gives him something he really likes.

◦Quickie - A short smutty One Shot

◦Kiss Me At Midnight - Everyone needs a kiss at midnight

◦A Quiet Christmas - All Cillian & Celine want is a quiet Christmas

Ficlets, etc

◦Thighs - Filth from my mind ◦Hands - More flith from my mind ◦Moving in - A little drabble requested ◦Cringe - A drabble ◦Back - A little Cillian drabble ◦Rain - rainy days in with Cillian & your dogs ◦Guest - Wedding Guest Cillian ◦Thirst - Reader introduces Cillian to thirst tweets about him ◦Snack - Cillian just wants to eat! ◦WAP - Cillian hears that song for the first time ◦Morning - Cillian smutty drabble ◦Ready - Writing prompt ‘tying your lovers tie’ ◦But..what is a dilf? ◦Sweethearts - Young Cillian x Reader. ◦Selfish - Secretly dating Prompt, for Alex ◦NSFW Alphabet ◦Fluff Alphabet ◦POV: Cillian is your boyfriend this is your camera roll: Part One | Part Two | Part Three ◦Memes: Cillian is your boyfriend/husband you send him these memes

Series

[slvtrlv]

~ Master List ~

Rafael Barba x fem!Reader

ONE SHOTS

Say it again (smut).

Rain. Street. Night (fluff). - request

Take you to infinity (fluff). - request

Wanna be yours (fluff/smut).

Diet Pepsi (smut).

Vacation (fluff/smut). - request

White dress (fluff). - request

SERIES

Why didn’t you tell me? (on going).

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10

What we left behind (on going).

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10

Cillian Murphy x fem!Reader

ONE SHOTS

That’s my baby (smut/angst).

Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

SERIES

Ultraviolence (on going).

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14

Tyler Joseph x fem!Reader

ONE SHOTS

Third verse, same as the first (fluff). - request

[lau219]

Tell Me The Truth

•• Jonathan Crane x Reader ••

Story note: Thiopental is the proper name for what’s more commonly known as “truth serum.” It works by slowing the brain’s higher levels of functioning, making coming up with lies or fabricating complicated stories difficult for a person.

***!!!Warning: Mature sexual content, mentions/use of needles, blood, drug administration/drug influence, reader vulnerability/loss of some defenses and control, 18+ readers only, minors DNI!!!***

…………………………………………………………………………….

“Y/N! Wait up!”

Looking over her shoulder, Y/N saw one of the lab technicians, Terry, jogging towards her down the wide hallway. He was coming from the lab office where they’d just been talking, and as he approached and got closer, Y/N smiled, and when he stopped in front of her, she raised her eyebrows.

“Is there something we forgot to review?” she asked him, still smiling.

“No,” he shook his head, catching his breath after the jog through the wing of the building, “but you forgot this,” he said, lifting his hand and revealing her access key card he held between his fingers. “You left it on the counter in the lab.”

Her eyebrows raising again in surprise, Y/N reached out to take the key card from him.

“Oh, gosh! Thanks so much! I’m gonna need that later.”

“You mean tomorrow,” he suggested in correction. “You’ll need it tomorrow.”

“No,” Y/N replied with a shake of her head. “I mean tonight. I’ve still got some work to do after I drop these documents off in Dr. Crane's office. I need to sort through the results of the latest trial he conducted for that proposed new version of Thiopental, and then I have to go back to the lab and begin dosing out the vials of it for the next trial.”

“How many trials is he going to do?” Terry asked.

“Just these two,” Y/N replied. “The first was to track the physical effects and duration of those effects, as well as efficacy. This next trial is to assess the intensity of effect and the average recovery time. We’re hoping this version of the drug won’t leave patients feeling as spacey and out of it for as long as the original version typically does.”

“I see,” Terry replied with a nod of his head. “Who else do you have working on this with you?”

Y/N shook her head.

“No one; just me,” she then replied.

“Geez, Crane really likes to work you, doesn’t he?” Terry responded.

“It’s not like that,” Y/N said. “He allows plenty of other people to be involved in running the trials and collecting the data. It’s just that when it comes to interpreting the data and getting everything organized for the trials, he wants me to do it.”

“He keeps you on a pretty short leash,” Terry countered.

“No,” Y/N said again. “He’s giving me the opportunity I need, which is to gain firsthand experience and knowledge. This is exactly the kind of stuff I need to be involved in as I work towards my PhD. It’s what’s entailed in being a research assistant.”

“I don’t see him making anyone else work after 5:00 p.m. on a consistent basis,” Terry said then. “But you’re always here late.”

“He doesn’t make me; I do it on my own accord.” Y/N replied.

“Why?” Terry asked with a skeptical raise of his brow. “It’s not like he’s a joy to work with. It surely can’t be his personality that keeps you hanging around. The guy couldn’t be less inviting or more clinical. Has he ever even thanked you or acknowledged what you do?”

“Terry,” Y/N said, admonishing him for criticizing Dr. Crane. “He’s a brilliant doctor and an ingenious pharmaceutical developer. It’s only natural for him to be very clinically focused. But, truly, he’s not as cold as you make him sound. He’s just...focused.”

“You know, your face always flushes whenever you talk about him,” Terry said teasingly with a smirk as he looked at Y/N. “In your eyes, he can do no wrong. Does your defense of him have anything to do with the fact that you so obviously have a crush on him?”

Blushing even deeper than she apparently already was, Y/N’s jaw slightly dropped in surprise.

“I do NOT!” she insisted, hugging the files she was holding to her chest.

“Please, Y/N, it’s all too obvious. We all work in pretty close quarters in that lab; it’s hard to miss the way you look at him whenever he’s in there with us. And if that’s so obvious in the lab, I can only imagine how much more you fawn over him when it’s just the two of you in his office.”

“I do NOT fawn!” Y/N denied again. “I’m his assistant. I’m supposed to pay close attention to him and help him in any way that I can.”

Of course, though, Terry was right. Y/N’s loyalty to Dr. Crane and his work was genuine, but it was one hundred percent correct that she had a hopeless crush on the doctor as well. He was incomprehensibly smart, dedicated to his work, and constantly developing something new in the field – he was so accomplished. He was also insanely handsome and sexy (although he seemed to be unaware of that fact), and although he displayed a quite cold, clinical demeanor ninety-eight percent of the time, there were glimpses of affection that he’d shown Y/N here and there over the last year, and it was enough to get her imagination running for all sorts of different scenarios. How many times had she imagined those lips of his on hers? His hands gripping her waist while she was bent over the lab counter?

Admittedly, although she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, there was something else about him that spoke to her as well. He had a kind of...intimidating way about him that made her feel things. Almost like a slight hint of menacing or danger that made her both nervous and excited when around him. It was like he was balancing between remaining composed and becoming something a bit darker...equally as ready to either praise her or punish her, depending on whether or not she pleased him. And she always tried very hard to please him.

“You’re like his little pet, you know?” Terry continued then. “He snaps his fingers, and you—”

“Mr. Hall!” a very familiar voice suddenly called out from down the way, cutting into their conversation, and both Y/N and Terry turned to see Dr. Crane standing several yards away, briefcase in hand as he looked at Terry.

“You’re supposed to be in the lab right now, are you not?” he spoke again, his voice still raised slightly for them both to hear. “I don’t believe we’re paying you to ignore your responsibilities and distract my staff, so kindly say your goodbyes to Miss Y/L/N and get back to work.”

Turning back to face Terry, Y/N gave him a look that was a cross between apologetic and sympathetic.

“Don’t worry; I’ll tell him you were just bringing me my key card,” she whispered to him.

“Won’t matter,” Terry replied with slight resentment, briefly eyeing Crane again over Y/N’s shoulder. “But maybe if you slip in a good word for me when the two of you are making out later, that might change his mind.”

“Shh! Don’t say things like that! Someone could hear you!” Y/N said in a somewhat panicked voice. “If a rumor starts going around that he and I—”

“Miss Y/L/N!” It was now Y/N’s turn to be called on by the doctor, but when she turned her head again and looked at him, he said nothing further, just gave her an expectant look and remained firmly where he stood.

“I gotta go; thanks for bringing me my card,” she whispered again as she quickly turned back to Terry for the last time. Then she grabbed the key card from his still outstretched hand and closed her fingers around it, turning around once more and briskly walking towards Dr. Crane with her files still clutched to her chest with her other arm. Crane continued to hold her gaze as she approached him, and as she reached him, instead of staying where he was, he began to walk again, Y/N following alongside him with still hurried steps as she spoke.

“I’m sorry, Dr. Crane, that was my fault, not Terry’s,” she said as they made their way down the hallway. “I left my key card in the lab, and he was bringing it to me, that’s all.”

“And it took you ten minutes to take a card out of his hand?” Jonathan replied, still keeping his eyes forward. “We have a schedule to keep, Miss Y/L/N.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Swallowing somewhat nervously, Y/N glanced sideways at him. He seemed even more no-nonsense than he usually did, and while she had just defended him to Terry, Jonathan’s aura was admittedly chilly today – she could feel it coming from him, and it was beyond just being clinical. He almost seemed mad that she’d been talking to Terry. But then again, he was never what one would call “warm”, except for the very rare occasions when he’d show Y/N the slightest bit of fondness. Something she’d never seen him reveal to anyone else.

As they continued through the building and made their way to Crane’s office, they discussed some details of the latest trial for the Thiopental, Y/N thumbing through several papers while speaking. As she spoke, Jonathan was only half listening, more so occupied with the anger and jealousy he’d felt upon seeing Y/N with Hall. And even though he knew that Y/N had no interest in the man, that didn’t stop the green monster from peeping its ugly head out. Even the doctor most trained in the reasoning behind mental and emotional responses still couldn’t stop himself from getting jealous, and the fact that he knew Y/N had a loyal devotion to him didn’t make it any less anger-inducing when he saw the way Hall had looked at her. The rat had been trying to pick her up for months, and he just wouldn’t take the hint. Well, it was finally time to hammer home to both Y/N and Hall exactly who she belonged to.

Jonathan was fully aware of the secret interest Y/N had in him. He’d picked up on it almost immediately upon her employment with him. While she was very good at keeping it to herself and maintaining a professional front, Jonathan was an expert at assessing, evaluating, and teasing apart every small mannerism, tone of voice, nervous habit, trail of thought, unspoken implication, and a million other things a person might display. And while she was very work-driven and dedicated, he had still caught every stolen glance, every flush of her cheeks, bite of her lips, and inviting bit of body language from her. She’d unknowingly, unintentionally given herself away months and months ago, and Jonathan hadn’t overlooked one tiny bit of it.

He hadn’t acted upon it, though, and he’d – for the most part – maintained an extremely stoic, clinical demeanor with her; the same he offered the rest of the staff. Only rarely did he allow himself to slip slightly and express a tiny bit of affection towards her.

No; he hadn’t acted upon it — yet. Because he’d decided long ago that when he did act upon it, it would be with the knowledge and the tools to make sure she wouldn’t be able to do anything other than give in to him. She’d be open, helpless, submissive, and melting underneath every touch he gave her. That was exactly how he wanted her. That was how he’d wanted her from the start.

Normally, Jonathan was unaffected by most women. Typically, to him, they were dim, whiny, annoying, faint-hearted things that were inconvenient but ultimately necessary. Most of the women he encountered simply made his life more difficult in some way, and weren’t worth wasting his precious time or intelligence on. Sure, he had needs like any man did, but those were commonly satisfied with minimal talk and a quick fuck with a random stranger he’d meet at some psychology seminar, or an audience member at one of his lectures. He could force the charm in order to have the itch scratched, and then go back to mostly ignoring them.

But Y/N was an exception — an incredibly beautiful, innocent, intelligent, and devoted exception who had taken Jonathan by rare surprise as the first woman he’d met whom he couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried. Beyond her beauty, it was her obvious, sweet innocence and warmth that was a stark contrast to his clinical, calculated life. And he couldn’t let her get too friendly with anyone else, because as soon as he’d acknowledged to himself the effect she had on him, he immediately decided she’d be his. She was pure, innocent perfection who was always dying to please him, and no way would he lose this rare gem of a woman to some pathetic, average moron. No; she’d be his, and his alone.

His to corrupt, control, and break apart. Never before had the desire and the urge to possess a woman been so strong as it was with Y/N, and he wanted her to fold for him the same way he got each and every one of his patients to fold. Except with Y/N, she’d break down and surrender not from the suppressed memories Jonathan would make her recollect or the trauma she’d work through, but from the way he’d adoringly groom her perfection and desire to please while also calling out each naughty desire and secret thought she assumed he was completely oblivious to, but was, in fact, all too well aware of.

And he knew that that right there was why he was so drawn to her. A gorgeous, innocent woman he could groom and corrupt, who would hang on his every word and be naughty only for him. In Y/N, Jonathan saw the alluring contrasts in her of being so pure, yet also having such lustful, sexual desires. She was sweet yet tempting. A good girl, but with the yearning to be corrupted. It all tapped into his own exact fantasies and desires.

Of course, none of this had ever been voiced by her, but Jonathan had spent the last year analyzing everything about her, and he just knew that Y/N had a yet-to-be-tapped sexuality. He knew she was no virgin, but she also clearly had never let all her inhibitions go. And who better to help her do that than him? And their latest trial project would only help along the way. After all, as brilliant as Jonathan’s methods were, he had no qualms about a little liquid assistance to get Y/N there faster.

As they entered Jonathan’s office, Y/N did as she always did and sat at the computer at his desk. When they were together, Jonathan rarely sat there, instead having Y/N enter information and type up notes of whatever he would dictate to her while he sat in one of the chairs opposite his desk instead. Then she’d leave to hurry off to the lab to complete whatever work he’d assigned for her there, where he’d then check on her progress later on.

“Pull up the results of the latest trial for the Thiopental,” Jonathan told Y/N after she’d situated herself in his desk chair. “I want to compare the males’ reactions versus the females’.”

Obediently, Y/N clicked through a few screens before pulling up the records Crane was asking for. But upon opening the file, Y/N noticed that the total number of participants had been lessened by one. Rather than results from one hundred individuals – fifty males and fifty females – the final line in the female column had been deleted.

“Ummm, Dr. Crane, did the results get edited recently?”

Turning from across the room, Jonathan looked at Y/N as he replied.

“Why do you ask?” he said.

“Well, there are no longer fifty female entries like there were when we first received this data,” Y/N answered him. “There are now only forty-nine.”

Walking over to where Y/N sat, Jonathan stopped beside her and leaned over the desk. Of course, he knew exactly what was going on — he’d deleted the last female entry — but he hovered over Y/N and gently but firmly laid his hand on top of hers as he gripped it and moved the computer mouse with her.

“Let’s have a look,” he said softly beside her.

Y/N’s heart was pounding and her hand was warm beneath his. With him standing this close, she could smell his cologne and feel the heat from his body. It was both unnerving and inviting, and she dared not move as he remained close, although it was taking all her strength not to turn her head into his chest.

Jonathan could sense every nerve in Y/N’s body pulsing. It was the exact reaction he expected from her, and it was clear she was both nervous and aroused. As his eyes darted to her, he could nearly feel the softness of her hair in his fingers as he’d sweep it behind her shoulder and expose her neck. That porcelain skin of hers would have a trail of goosebumps wherever he’d touch her.

After briefly scrolling through the file with her and acting somewhat surprised, Jonathan stood up and pulled back, and then Y/N finally moved again, looking at him questioningly.

“Open my emails; perhaps there’s an explanation from someone in there,” he said to her.

Doing as he said, Y/N opened his emails and quickly found one with the subject line: “Thiopental Participant Withdrawn.” Upon reading it aloud to Crane, Y/N learned that one of the female participant’s results had been discarded due to the discovery that she had consumed alcohol within an hour of her participation. That wasn’t allowed, as they wanted results from people who had no other influencers in their systems at the time of the trial.

“Does this mean the entire study will have to be discarded?” Y/N asked Jonathan after she’d finished reading the email. Little did she know that he’d composed and sent the email to himself.

“No,” Jonathan replied as he looked at her, her beautiful face looking crestfallen. “We’ll just have to collect results from a new female participant within the same parameters of all the others: non-pregnant, non-smoking, without any heart defects or complications, and a system free of any other influencers, approved by their primary physician and conducted in a controlled environment.”

Nodding, Y/N looked down at her watch, noticing that it was already nearly the time most people went home for the day.

“I can ask around the lab tomorrow if any of the female staff would be willing to do it,” she said to him. “I’m sure I can find someone.”

“I’m sure you can,” Jonathan replied then, looking at her with that rare smile that left Y/N feeling both excited and nervous. “You never let me down, Y/N.”

Blushing fiercely with a shy little smile, Y/N could only hold his eyes for a moment before she had to look down. Only on the rarest occasions would he call her “Y/N” instead of “Miss Y/L/N”, and it always had the same effect on her.

“Well, I should get to the lab then and start preparing the vials for the next trial,” she said as she pushed his chair out from the desk and stood up, her face still flushed as she closed his laptop.

“Don’t forget your key card this time,” he said to her with another rare moment of affectionate teasing.

Lifting her eyes to look at him, Y/N once again gave him that shy little smile.

“I won’t.”

•.•.•.•.•

Despite the trial only requiring one hundred vials of the Thiopental, dosing them out was time consuming work. Not only did Y/N need to transfer milliliter after milliliter of the clear liquid into one hundred empty vials with a dropper, but they each then needed to be capped, sealed, labeled and packaged with an accompanying syringe needle.

After three hours of work, she’d finally made it to the last tray of empty vials, and she sat up straighter in her stool to momentarily stretch her back and rotate her neck. She shivered beneath her lab coat, the chilly air of the sterile, empty lab offering little warmth. She was just about to resume her work when she heard the door to the lab open behind her. Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw Dr. Crane walk in, allowing the door to close behind him before he headed her way. What she didn’t realize is that he also ensured it was locked. Despite the fact that it was past 8:00 p.m. at this point, he wanted the guarantee of absolutely no interruptions.

“How’s it coming?” Jonathan asked her as he approached and then came to a stop beside her.

“Nearly finished,” Y/N replied, glancing back down to the vials before looking at Crane again.

“Well, perhaps it’s time for a little break,” he said as their eyes met once more. “I think I’ve come to a solution for our issue with the previous trial that will keep you from having to find a new participant.”

“Oh?” Y/N asked with interest, sitting up straighter in her stool. “How so?”

Looking at her intently, Jonathan spoke again.

“You can do it,” he said.

Furrowing her brow, Y/N shook her head in confusion.

“I can do what? You mean...me be the participant?” she asked in surprise.

“Yes,” Jonathan replied firmly, stepping slightly closer to her.

“But I...” Y/N began. She would never have expected Dr. Crane to suggest her being involved in this way. Wasn’t it some kind of foul for the individuals running the trial to be involved?

“But I’m involved in the study,” she continued then. “I can’t be a participant.”

“This is a study that’s simply tracking effect and reactions,” Jonathan replied, keeping his tone matter-of-fact. “There’s no issue of conflict or biases. We’re simply seeing how your body responds.”

Suddenly, Y/N’s heart began pounding. He was speaking as if he’d already decided she was going to do this, and it had her feeling nervous for some reason. Not unsafe, but just…

“I...I don’t think I should,” Y/N replied. “I mean, when would we even do this?”

“Right now,” Jonathan answered with certainty.

“Right now? But…but who’ll track the results? We have no one else here to record anything.”

Jonathan gave her an amused smile.

“I think I’m more than capable of keeping track of one woman’s responses to a single, one-time use drug, Y/N,” he said to her. “We don’t need anyone else.”

Her heart was still pounding, and she didn’t miss the fact that he used her first name again.

“I don’t have an approval from my primary physician — we have to provide that for them to consider the results valid and prove that it was done safely.”

Jonathan gave her another look.

“I’m a doctor, Y/N. I can properly administer a shot, and I can attest here and now that you’re in a safe environment and are a valid participant. That is, unless you’ve suddenly become pregnant, had a pacemaker implanted, or begun smoking since you were last in my office.”

Despite her nerves, Y/N couldn’t help but release a short laugh at Jonathan’s little joke as she looked down at her lap. It was odd to see him suddenly so...casual, but it was also very appealing. Her cheeks rosy, she looked up at him through her lashes.

“No, none of those things,” she said with a shy little smile.

“Then there’s no issue. I’ll administer it to you, observe the effects, and we’ll add the results to the trial. This way, we won’t waste time finding someone else and waiting for their physician’s note.”

“I…” Y/N didn’t know how to respond. She badly wanted to appease Jonathan, but she was also nervous. The idea of being so vulnerable in front of him was nerve-wracking. Granted, he would only be keeping track of things like her pulse, blood pressure, and reflexes, but what if she accidentally said or did something embarrassing?

“You’re perfectly safe with me, Y/N,” Jonathan assured her, his tone soft. He looked in her eyes and he could see the slight uncertainty, but more so the desire to please him. Just like always.

To Y/N’s surprise, Jonathan reached out then and gently laid a hand over hers.

“You know you can trust me, don’t you?”

Looking down at his hand on hers, Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. The mood in the room had changed entirely, and she wasn’t quite sure what was happening. But she knew she could never say no to him.

“Do you trust me?” Jonathan asked as she looked back up at him.

Taking in a deep breath, Y/N pulled herself out of falling into those eyes of his and quietly answered him, her hand still beneath his.

“Yes,” she said.

Slowly smiling, Jonathan squeezed her hand.

“Good girl,” he said.

Y/N blushed fiercely at his words, feeling incredibly nervous but also giddy and pleased at his praise. Again, this was a side of him that had only ever appeared in her private fantasies, and the fact that he was suddenly looking at her the way he was felt almost surreal.

Reaching up behind her on the shelf where the leftover vials of the Thiopental from the first trial sat, Jonathan pulled one down and set it on the lab counter. He then opened the container of supplies kept beneath the shelf and retrieved an alcohol swab and some rubber gloves. Still sitting in her stool, Y/N watched his every move.

Jonathan had her right where he wanted her, and he was even more in tune than usual with every silent signal Y/N was giving off. As he placed the supplies on the counter, he looked at her again.

“Sit up on the counter,” he softly ordered her. “Then your arms will be level with mine.”

Self-consciously, Y/N shifted, trying to be as graceful as possible in the skirt she was wearing. Bracing her palms behind herself on the ledge, she then hoisted herself up from the stool onto the countertop, scooting back slightly as her legs dangled over the edge. She was now at the same level as Jonathan, and she awkwardly cleared her throat as their eyes met again.

“Let’s lift this up, shall we?” Jonathan then said to her as he reached forward for the sleeve of her lab coat and pushed it up to reveal her forearm, folding it behind the bend of her elbow.

Goosebumps immediately appeared where Jonathan’s fingers brushed her skin as he adjusted her sleeve, and Y/N blushed, not looking at him but knowing there was no way he didn’t notice her reaction.

“Will you…I mean…we’re just tracking things like my vitals, right? That’s it?” Y/N asked him quietly as she watched Jonathan put the gloves on.

“Why?” he teased her then as their eyes met again. “Keeping some secrets, are we?”

Blushing again, Y/N couldn’t speak, instead only pursing her lips as she shook her head.

“Don’t worry,” Jonathan said then, “something tells me we’ll get the answers we’re looking for.”

Y/N’s heart pounded again at his words, not even knowing how to respond. She felt the way she always felt around him, both nervous and protected, but it was magnified by about a hundred, and although his words and actions were soft, Y/N still picked up on that hint of intimidation and danger he brought her. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she acknowledged the fact that she was squeezing her thighs together beneath her skirt.

He could see her pulse point at her neck jumping, and he spotted the tightening of her muscles as she squeezed her thighs together atop the counter. As he reached over her once more to grab a syringe and needle, he intentionally lingered, and he heard her inhale near his neck as he did, smiling to himself at her response to him.

Donning the rubber gloves, Jonathan then assembled the needle and syringe, then loaded it from the vial, Y/N's eyes on his every move. Setting the prepared syringe down momentarily, he then opened the packet containing the alcohol swab and then removed it, swiftly swiping it across Y/N's skin as she looked down at her arm. Goosebumps appeared again as she felt the cold piece of gauze on her skin.

Quickly disposing of the swab, Jonathan then retrieved the syringe once more, and just before bringing the needle to her skin, he gently grasped Y/N's arm with his free hand and looked at her.

"Ready?" he said, although it wasn't really a question.

Meeting his eyes, Y/N nervously bit her lip, but as she felt Jonathan gently squeeze her arm, she found herself nodding her permission.

Wincing at the sudden sting from the prick of the needle, Y/N briefly squeezed her eyes closed, but forced herself to inhale steadily as she felt the liquid enter her vein. Jonathan lifted his eyes from her arm to her face as he finished pushing the last of the dose through the syringe, and he smiled to himself once more as he knew it was now only a matter of minutes before he'd get everything out of her.

Gently retracting the needle from her arm, Jonathan placed a clean square of gauze over the site on her skin to catch any small bit of blood that may have followed, and Y/N automatically lifted her other hand to hold it there as Jonathan disposed of the syringe.

"Don't be nervous, sweetheart," Jonathan said as he saw Y/N watching him again, her face slightly pale and her nerves clearly affecting her. "You know exactly how all of this works."

Completely taken aback by the unexpected term of endearment, Y/N's heart raced again, and she felt both giddy and hazy. While it was supposed to take several minutes for the drug to reach full effect, she'd had no idea how quickly it would begin taking over her system. She already felt somewhat like she was functioning in slow motion, but with Jonathan's unexpected affection, her heart was still pounding like crazy.

"We'll just give that a minute to take full effect," he said then, very nonchalantly.

Still speechless, Y/N watched as he opened a cabinet off to the side and pulled out a pulse oximeter and electronic blood pressure cuff. Preparing to use each of them, Jonathan then shifted again and stood directly in front of her, and Y/N lifted her head to meet his eyes.

"How do you feel?" he asked her, the clinical tone back in his voice.

It took her a moment before she could respond, the words taking their time to travel from her brain to her lips.

"Slow," she said simply as she looked back at him. "Everything feels slow."

Nodding, Jonathan picked up the items he'd retrieved from the cabinet. He spoke as he placed the oximeter on her finger. Although he had no real intention of tracking any of this, he wanted to give her another minute to absorb everything. After the oximeter beeped with her numbers, he placed the blood pressure cuff on her wrist.

"How about now?" Jonathan lifted his eyes from the display on the cuff to Y/N's gaze. "Your heart's racing. Not common, seeing as this typically causes the opposite effect on heart rate. What's got you so nervous, hmm?"

Y/N felt somewhat cloudy, still fully functional, but once again in almost a slow motion way, as if everything she thought and did took twice as long. After registering his question, she answered Jonathan with the first thing that came to her mind.

"You," she said simply.

Jonathan smiled, giving her a look that only intensified her pulse, and he then reached up and removed his glasses, placing them in the breast pocket of his blazer.

"Me?" he questioned her teasingly. "Do I make you nervous, Y/N?"

"Yes," she answered after a beat, still looking at him. She found that if she tried to turn her head too fast, it made her feel woozy.

"Hmm," said Jonathan, and then he reached down and slowly unstrapped the cuff from her wrist.

Thoughtlessly lowering her arm, Y/N took another deep breath, feeling her pulse in her veins.

"Let's just start with the typical questions," Jonathan said then, and although he'd told her they'd only be monitoring her vitals and outward reactions, Y/N had no ability or desire to stop him from asking her anything.

"Tell me your full name and date of birth," Crane said as he looked at her. After a moment's beat, Y/N responded with the (obviously) correct answers.

"And what's your home address?"

Again, she rattled off the information after a second's pause.

"Now tell me, how long have you worked for me?" Jonathan said then, his tone changing slightly.

"Just over a year," Y/N replied, and then she noticed somewhere in the back of her mind that she was beginning to feel very hot.

"Right. And for how long of that year have you had sexual thoughts about me, Y/N?"

Despite her body heat, Y/N could feel her face suddenly blanching, but as she processed his question, there was only one possible outcome: the truth.

"The entire time," she said, and she felt the blush creep back over her skin as the words left her mouth.

"Are you surprised that I just asked you that question?" Jonathan asked then, that smile of certainty taking over his face again.

"Yes," Y/N answered, her heart skipping a beat as she saw him smile. She was now fully aware that she was powerless to say anything but the truth.

Reaching out to her then, Jonathan gently laid a palm on Y/N's thigh and slowly slid it up her leg, over the fabric of her skirt. Then their eyes met again.

"You thought I didn't know, didn't you?" he affectionately teased her, his voice soft and his gaze intense as he looked at her. Somehow, his entire aura was contradictorily both soothing and intimidating, and Y/N's breath hitched in her throat as he stepped even closer.

Automatically, and feeling somewhat hazy, she spread her legs to allow Jonathan to stand between them, and as he did, he reached up and gently grasped her chin, stroking it with his thumb as he looked down at her. Nervously, Y/N's eyes kept darting between his eyes and his lips, her heart pounding and her body flushed as he spoke again.

"Trust me, sweetheart, I knew. I've known all along."

His affectionate words and his touch once again caused Y/N's heart to race, and she felt both embarrassed and helpless, but also immediately aroused.

"I'm sorry," she heard herself say suddenly, and Jonathan, still grasping her chin, looked at her with that unnerving affection.

"Sorry for what?"

"For thinking about you like that," she said. "I tried not to."

Chuckling, Jonathan released her chin, instead planting each of his palms on top of her thighs.

"You don't have to apologize," he spoke soothingly, giving a small shake of his head. "After all, why apologize for something we both want?"

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, and she felt a dampness forming in her panties as Jonathan squeezed her thighs.

"You're quite the little eye-catcher yourself, Y/N," he responded. "I've spent the last year watching every move you make, every look and unspoken hint. And never before has anyone caught my attention quite like you."

Floored at this admission, Y/N could only say one thing.

"Really?"

Chuckling again, Jonathan leaned in closer to her.

"Isn't that what you were always hoping to hear?" he asked her.

Her eyes quickly darting to his lips, Y/N then responded.

"Yes," she answered him. "I wanted to be perfect for you. I wanted you to want me."

Immediately, Jonathan's cock twitched in his pants at her admission. Despite knowing this information already, nothing beat hearing it come straight from her lips.

"And is that still what you want now?" he pushed her.

She nodded her head.

"Yes."

Smiling again, Jonathan pulled back from her slightly, noting the heat radiating from her body.

"You're burning up," he said as his eyes dropped to the buttons on her lab coat.

"I'm hot," she confirmed mindlessly.

"I can see that," Jonathan replied.

"Is that bad?" she asked, concern momentarily replacing the desirous look on her face.

"It's expected," Jonathan dismissed with a shake of his head. "Your body's trying to compensate for the delayed response signals by sending blood through your system more quickly."

"I'm hot," she repeated dumbly, unable to comprehend enough of what Jonathan had said, as her brain was processing everything slower.

"We can take care of that," Jonathan replied, and he reached up and began undoing the buttons on her lab coat. He intentionally went slowly, savoring the moment of finally undressing her as he'd imagined a million times.

After her coat was open, Jonathan reached up again and slipped his hands underneath the shoulders, slowly pushing it off her and down her arms. Silently, Y/N turned her head and watched as his hands pushed the coat off her body. But instead of stopping there, Jonathan then lifted his hands once more and hovered them over the buttons of her blouse.

"Should we take this off, too?" he asked her — again, less so for permission and more so just to hear her response.

"Yes," she replied, and nodded her head.

As Jonathan worked at the new set of buttons, the porcelain skin of Y/N's chest and the lace of her black bra was gradually revealed, causing Jonathan's cock to stiffen further.

“Have you thought about me undressing you before, Y/N?”

She could feel his cool fingertips grazing her skin as he worked down her chest.

“Yes,” she replied. Her heart was pounding and her nipples stiffening at his question.

“And when you think about that, how does it make you feel?”

Of course, there was still nothing she could do but tell the truth. As badly as her mind wanted to come up with an answer that wouldn't embarrass her, she couldn't form the fib; she could only voice facts.

"Excited," she replied, "but nervous, too. I like to think about it."

"What else do you like to think about?" Jonathan urged her as he undid the last button on her blouse. Y/N's face flushed again as she answered him.

"You kissing me and touching me. I think about having sex with you and what it would be like."

"And do you enjoy those thoughts?" Jonathan placed his palms back on her thighs, her blouse hanging open.

"Yes," she replied.

"Why?"

"Because I like you. You’re so smart and accomplished, and you’re intimidating, too, but I like that. And you’re so handsome and sexy. When I’m around you, you make me feel safe but also scared at the same time. I like that. I think about what you'll do to me."

"And what do you think I'll do to you? Tell me."

Again, Y/N was helpless to anything but the truth.

"You'll kiss me. Touch me everywhere. I think about your hands on my breasts. Or your lips on me. You'll put your fingers inside me, and then your cock. You'll pull my hair or spank me. You'll fuck me and make me come. Then you'll come inside me."

He could see the shock and embarrassment on Y/N’s face as she heard herself uncontrollably admit everything out loud, and after each mini declaration she made, Jonathan's cock stiffened further.

Lifting his hands to Y/N’s shoulders once more, he slipped them under her blouse and pushed it off her, fully revealing inch after inch of her flawless skin, enhanced by the contrast of her feminine, lacy black bra. Her breasts molded perfectly to the cups and he could see her hardened nipples through the material.

"And how about if I tell you to do something? Would you do it?" Jonathan prompted her.

"Yes," Y/N said.

"You want to please me, don't you, Y/N? Make me happy with you? Do anything I say?"

"Yes."

"You just want to be my good girl, don't you?"

"Yes," Y/N nodded at that, feeling her body flush again. "I want to be yours."

Lifting his hands to her face, Jonathan cradled Y/N's cheeks in his palms and looked in her eyes as he spoke.

"I want that, too," he said. "And we can make that happen. Would you like me to fuck you right now?"

Y/N nodded again, having a hard time believing this was actually happening. "Yes."

Lowering one hand from her face and moving the other lower, he grasped her chin again and held her eyes as he spoke.

"You're going to be a good girl for me, Y/N. You're going to let me do everything to you that I want. You're going to show me how much you enjoy it. You belong to me, do you understand that?"

"Yes," Y/N replied, her heart pounding at Jonathan's words. Unintentionally, she slightly arched her back, subtly pushing her chest out towards him.

Jonathan smiled again.

"So eager," he cooed. "You've been mine all along, haven't you?"

"Yes; always," Y/N said.

At that, Jonathan lifted his hands once more and reached behind her, making quick work of opening her bra clasp. As the garment loosened around her, he traced his fingers up her arms and hooked them under her straps, hesitating for a moment as he savored her reaction.

"Shall we take this off?" he teased her.

"Yes," she answered quickly, her voice sounding desperate. "Please!"

Jonathan shook his head with another smile.

"Always so well-mannered. My good girl."

Pulling the bra from her chest, Jonathan dropped it to the floor and his eyes were glued to her breasts. They were plump, pert perfection, her nipples hardened from equally both arousal and the chill of the cold, sterile laboratory.

"Do you want my hands on you, Y/N?" he asked her, his palms already only centimeters away from touching her.

"Yes," she nodded fervently.

Immediately, Jonathan cupped her breasts, squeezing her flesh as it filled his hands and stroking her eager nipples with his thumbs. With every swipe along her buds, Y/N released a tiny gasp, arching into his touch.

"You like that, don't you?" Jonathan asked her as he lifted his eyes to hers. He could feel his cock straining against his pants as he watched her arch into him again.

"Yes," she replied. "I don't want you to stop."

Jonathan shook his head.

"We're not stopping until I have you coming, sweetheart," he said to her soothingly. "That's what you want, isn't it? For me to make you come?"

"Yes," she replied, and she squeezed her thighs together again.

"Then let's make that happen."

His hands still on her breasts, Jonathan leaned forward and pressed his lips to Y/N's, her eyes fluttering closed as he came closer. As soon as his lips came in contact with hers, she released an audible sigh with a little whimper, and when Jonathan stroked her nipples again as their lips moved together, she leaned into him even more.

He started off gentle, but soon, Jonathan was kissing her with more aggression, the sounds of her desirous desperation and her needy reaction spurring him on. After a moment, he felt her squirming beneath him, and he pulled back to look at her.

"What is it?" he asked her.

"I..." Y/N blushed again. "I want to touch you."

Jonathan smiled.

"Then touch me," he said, then leaned in again and connected their lips once more.

Whimpering again, Y/N lifted hers arms to Jonathan's neck, wrapping them around his shoulders as she scooted closer to him. Her bare breasts rubbed against the scratchy fabric of his blazer, and as she leaned into him, Jonathan lowered his hands to her hips and pulled her to the edge of the counter. Her fingers hovering over the nape of his neck, she suddenly tangled them in his hair and tugged in surprise as she felt Jonathan squeeze her hips.

Pulling away from her once more, Jonathan grabbed the fabric of her skirt and slowly began pushing it up her thighs, watching her every reaction as he did so.

"Let's see just how excited you are," he said. He then pushed her skirt the final inches to bunch it up around her hips, revealing her smooth thighs and the black panties clothing her pretty little mound.

"Spread your legs for me, Y/N," Jonathan ordered her, and she obediently responded, parting her thighs fully to reveal herself. The subtle yet obvious patch where her arousal had temporarily stained the fabric of her panties darker immediately causing another smirk to cross Jonathan's face.

"So wet, aren't you?" he affectionately teased her. "So wet and so ready." He hovered his fingers over her. "Do you want my fingers?"

Her breath hitched slightly before she answered.

"Yes," she said in a breathy reply. "I want them inside me."

Slowly, Jonathan skimmed his fingertips over the fabric of her panties, eliciting a whimper and a thrust of her hips as Y/N felt him touch her. He then lifted his fingers to the hem of her panties and hooked them inside. Instinctively, Y/N briefly lifted herself off the counter to allow him to remove them, but then her mind was completely blank when she suddenly felt Jonathan's fingers delve inside her dripping folds.

"Ohhhhh," she moaned, and her hips thrusted again as Jonathan curled his fingers inside her, the lewd sounds of her wetness accenting the air as he began pumping his fingers in and out of her.

Her pussy was soft, pink perfection, and Jonathan curled his fingers again as she moaned over and over.

"You're not just wet; you're soaking," he said to her, his cock now rock hard as he watched his fingers moving in and out of her. Whining again, Y/N grasped the edge of the counter with her hands and slightly leaned back, pushing her lower half closer to Jonathan, seeking more of his touch.

"Such a needy girl," Jonathan said. "You want more, don't you?"

"Yes," she nodded, her face twisting in pleasure as Jonathan pumped his fingers faster. "More." She was panting now.

"Just wait until you get my cock, sweetheart. You're going to let me fuck you, aren't you?"

"Yes," Y/N answered, her pussy clamping around his fingers. When Jonathan curled them inside her once more and moved his index finger back and forth, an embarrassingly loud moan escaped her, the pleasure incredible as he hit that spot inside her.

"Next time, you’re gonna be bent over my desk," Jonathan said to her as he withdrew his fingers from inside her and swiped his thumb over her clit instead, eliciting another loud moan from her. "From now on, you’ll let me take you whenever and wherever I want. Do you understand me, Y/N?"

"Yes!" she cried out desperately as he swiped her clit again. Her head was still slightly foggy, and Jonathan's words had her ready to do anything he said. Her heart was racing as she met his eyes.

"You pretend to be so proper, but you're not. You want to be a naughty girl, don’t you?" Jonathan said.

"Yes!" Y/N cried again, Jonathan's thumb repeatedly circling her clit having her eyes practically rolling to the back of her head.

"You sound like a broken record,” Jonathan said then. "So beautifully pathetic." He ceased his ministrations then, and at the loss of his touch, Y/N was practically crying.

"Jonathan..." she breathed out in need, feeling so delirious that she didn't even realize she'd said his first name, which she'd never done before. "Jonathan, please!"

At the sound of his name falling from her mouth in that desperate, whiny voice, Jonathan was moving his hands to his belt, unfastening it and opening his pants, the clinking sound of the buckle sounding louder than it actually was in the otherwise empty lab. He then reached out and grasped Y/N's wrist, pulling her hand to his briefs and slipping her hand inside, guiding her palm to feel his bulging firmness.

"Please, what?" he said as he held her hand in place. "Is this what you want, Y/N? You want my cock?"

"Yes!"

"Where do you want it? Tell me."

"I want it inside me. I want to feel you fill me up."

Feeling the heat of Jonathan's stiff shaft, all she could think about was having him fuck her, and she knew that she would forever do whatever he told her as long as she could feel him inside her.

"I'm going to fill you," Jonathan assured then, roughly pulling her closer again and hovering his mouth over hers as he spoke. "And you're going to take everything I give you, do anything I tell you to. You're going to be my good girl. Always."

Jonathan caught the obedient little nod Y/N gave just before he connected their lips again, and as he did, he raised a hand to grasp one of her breasts again, massaging her and pinching her nipple before doing the same to her other breast, and then moving his mouth to her neck, sucking her flesh and following it with a soft kiss.

"Jonathan..." she breathed again.

"Are you ready, Y/N?" he said lowly against her neck. "I think you are."

"Yes," she breathlessly whispered again for what felt like the hundredth time that night, and Y/N felt her wetness nearly ready to drip from her folds as she heard Jonathan draw himself out of his briefs. But her weeping pussy was then immediately met with the feel of his hot tip prodding her entrance, and she whimpered again.

"You're so ready," she heard Jonathan say, and then she was suddenly momentarily thoughtless from the insane pleasure of his cock slamming inside her.

"Ahhhhhh!" she cried out, feeling like she was being split in two as Jonathan's hips became flush with her inner thighs. She desperately reached up and grasped the lapels of his blazer, the stars in her vision slowly disappearing as she continued to adjust to the feeling of him inside her.

"Ohhh, fuck, sweetheart," Jonathan groaned as he felt her walls clamp needily around his shaft. She milked him without even trying, and he immediately began thrusting in and out of her, unable to go slow any longer.

"Oh, God!" Y/N panted as she gripped his jacket tighter, instinctively wrapping her legs around Jonathan's waist as he began to move in and out of her. She clamped around him with each thrust, and she felt his fingers digging into her hips as she began to meet each of his thrusts with a rutting of her hips.

"That's my girl," Jonathan said roughly as he continued to fuck her. “Taking me so well."

Her chest was heaving, and Jonathan was having a hard time deciding where to focus his eyes — on her beautiful breasts bouncing with each thrust, on her plump, parted lips as she gasped again and again, or on the sight of his thick cock slamming in and out of her drenched pussy. But he relished in knowing that he'd now have countless opportunities to see each of these delicious sights again and again. He'd fuck her silly before he'd ever have enough.

In the future, Jonathan would draw everything out, make her squirm, whine, and downright beg for release. But tonight, he'd make it easy on her, to show her just how good he could make her feel...if she earned it.

Returning his thumb to her clit, he again stroked her over and over, and as he watched her face beautifully contort in pleasure again, he grabbed a fistful of her hair with his free hand, tugging it roughly enough to force her to look at him, her eyes widening in surprise and mild pain as his pull on her strands stung her scalp, causing her to whimper again.

"Do you want me to make you come, Y/N?" Jonathan asked her as she met his eyes.

"Yes! Please!" She thrusted her own hips into his once more, seeking what he was offering her. "And...and..." she couldn't think anymore.

"What?"Jonathan asked her. "Say it."

She clamped around him again.

"And I want you to come inside me."

Jonathan gave her a devilish smile.

"That was happening whether you asked or not," he replied. "You're going to take everything I give you."

Her heart racing, Y/N nodded obediently once more, and with a final, sloppy kiss between them, Jonathan then resumed his previous pace, fucking her hard and fast as he alternated between stroking her clit and pinching her nipples.

With every touch and thrust, Y/N could feel herself unravelling more and more, and she reached up and desperately gripped Jonathan's shoulders as she felt herself nearing the edge.

"I...Jonathan, I..."

"Are you close, sweetheart?" he urged her.

"Yes," she panted.

Jonathan once more pulled her closer, his hands on her hips like a death grip as he prepared to bring her over the edge and finish inside her.

"You're going to come now, Y/N," he commanded her.

In a final push of thrusts and strokes, Jonathan had her mewling in desperation, and when he lowered his mouth to her neck and nipped her skin as he thumbed her a final time, he felt her suddenly clamp around him with insane tightness as a high-pitched squeal escaped her and her body tensed.

Her eyes squeezing shut and her heart pounding in her ears, Y/N was once again thoughtless, only registering her reactions and responses to how Jonathan fucked her with intention, and when he commanded her in that voice and bit at her neck, she was gone. As his thumb stroked her a final time through her wetness, she came with an uncontrollable squeal, gripping his shoulders so tightly that her knuckles were white against the fabric of his jacket.

Hearing her desperately pleasured whine, Jonathan let himself go, pounding into her with determination until he himself was coming, releasing inside her with rope after rope of cum, imagining each bit of his release painting her walls and marking his territory as he finished inside her, hearing her still panting against him as he groaned deeply.

Eventually, the sounds between them lessened, and finally, Jonathan pulled himself out of her as Y/N's hands slipped from his shoulders, whimpering a final time as she felt him leave her body. After tucking himself back inside his briefs, Jonathan fastened his pants again and re-buckled his belt before looking up at Y/N, who still sat on the counter before him, slightly shivering with her naked chest still exposed and her legs still spread, her bare pussy leaking with his cum.

When Y/N lifted her eyes to meet his, Jonathan reached up and stroked her cheek before he spoke again.

"It shouldn't be long now before the effects fully wear off," he said, reaching for her lab coat on the counter, picking it up and encouraging her to slip her arms through the sleeves as he helped her put it back on, never minding about her discarded bra or blouse. He buttoned it for her before then lowering his fingers to her pussy and pushing his escaping cum back inside her. Y/N's thighs quivered as his fingers briefly entered her again.

"Once you're feeling back to normal, I want you to go home," he continued softly. "Don't wash yourself until the morning. Then I want you to come straight to my office tomorrow, and I want you wearing nothing but that lab coat. Do you understand?"

Pressing her thighs together, Y/N silently nodded, her heart still pounding.

"Good girl," Jonathan said, and he stroked her cheek one more time before leaning closer once more.

"You'll always be my good girl, won't you?" he said to her, already knowing her response.

"Yes," Y/N breathed out, nodding slowly. "Always."

With a satisfied nod, Jonathan leaned forward a final time, placing a soft kiss on Y/N's lips before backing away. Then he turned and walked out of the lab, Y/N looking after him as she slowly began to feel like herself again, but with a renewed desirous anticipation, wondering just exactly what Jonathan had in mind for her next.

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[gingerteafairy]

𝙊𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣’𝙨 𝙉𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙁𝙚𝙖𝙧 (𝙅𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝘾𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙚 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧)

A secret sharing conversation with your favorite villain.

tags n warnings: scarecrow x batgirl!reader, forbidden relationship, batmanverse, age gap, mentions of sex and experiments, drugs, alcohol, scents. word count: 5.1k

Luxurious candlelight illuminated the grand saloon, casting golden hues on the polished surfaces. Jonathan Crane stood among Gotham's elite, his piercing blue eyes scanning the crowd with disinterest. He’d met you once before, during a chaotic mission investigating Scarecrow while Bruce dealt with the Joker. That memory burned vividly in his mind—the taste of his own blood as you knocked him to the cold floor, the sharp sting of your boot pressing against his back.

He’d been… fascinated. Your strength, your determination, and the fire in your eyes as you cornered him—it was mesmerizing. Even in the pain, he found himself enthralled, his mind dissecting the dichotomy of your character: brutal in combat yet delicate in presence. That day, your mistake was turning your back on him. One breath of his toxin, and you’d fallen into his arms like a fragile doll.

He’d taken you to his lab, removing your mask with reverence. You looked invincible in your suit, yet your face was soft, like porcelain. When you woke, confused and scared, he wasn’t the monster you expected. Instead, he was calm, methodical, tending to the bruises you’d sustained in battle.

“You’re art,” he had whispered, his icy gaze locking onto yours. “And art is worth protecting with one’s life.”

You’d never forgotten his words, nor the unsettling way they made you feel. And now, here he was again, standing in Wayne Manor at Bruce’s lavish birthday party, dressed impeccably in a navy suit that fit him like a second skin.

Jonathan scanned the room, searching for something—or someone. Then, he saw you. Gone was the tactical suit; in its place, a flowing emerald-green gown that hugged your form perfectly. The pearls on your gloves gleamed under the soft light, and the low-cut back of your dress teased him with every subtle movement. He couldn’t look away.

His fixation was interrupted by Rachel Dawes approaching him with her usual pleasantries. Polite but disinterested, he responded with measured words, waiting for her to leave. When she introduced him to Bruce Wayne, he hid his irritation behind a charming smile.

“Dr. Jonathan Crane,” she said, her voice formal. “Head of Arkham Asylum. And this, of course, is Bruce Wayne.”

Bruce extended his hand, his grip firm—too firm. “It’s good to have someone keeping an eye on Arkham. I’ll be keeping mine as well,” he said pointedly, his tone laced with distrust.

Jonathan smiled thinly, unbothered. “I’d expect nothing less, Mr. Wayne. The asylum demands constant vigilance.”

It was then he noticed your subtle shift. You stood beside Bruce, your posture rigid as your eyes darted nervously to his face. Jonathan’s lips curled slightly, testing the waters.

“Got into a fight, Dr. Crane?” Bruce asked bluntly, earning a sharp glare from you.

“Not exactly,” Jonathan replied smoothly. “My job demands much more than sitting behind a desk. A patient had an outburst.”

He looked at you as he spoke, savoring every flicker of recognition in your features. “I had to sedate her. Alone. She’s a lovely girl, despite her… condition.” His voice, velvety and slow, seemed to seep into your skin.

Your throat tightened. “N-Nice to meet you, Dr. Crane,” you managed, introducing yourself with a shaky hand, the man that haunted your mind between pleasure and fear standing in front of you.

Jonathan took it with deliberate slowness, lifting it to his lips. “The pleasure is mine, Ms. Wayne,” he murmured, brushing his lips against your knuckles.

The gesture left you breathless, and your cheeks flushed a soft pink. Bruce cleared his throat loudly, snapping you back to reality.

Rachel interjected, pulling Bruce away. “Come on, Bruce, I have something to show you.”

Jonathan watched you as Bruce departed, his expression amused.

“He’s overprotective” You comment, your voice wavering despite your attempt to sound composed.

“Emeralds deserve protection,” He replied, Jonathan smirked, his gaze lingering.

"So, you're Wayne, huh?" he mocked, his lips curling into a half-smile as he slid his free hand into his pocket, eyes never leaving yours. "Big deal."

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing grin forming on your face. "Scared?" you joked, the words slipping out before you could stop them. But as soon as the challenge left your lips, you regretted it.

Jonathan’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with amusement. Without breaking eye contact, he took a step closer, leaning in just enough for his breath to tickle your ear. His voice dropped to a low whisper, a velvet caress that sent a shiver down your spine. "Oh, darling," he murmured, the words both a question and a statement. "You know damn well that’s my job."

You swallowed hard, the words sticking in your throat as his presence seemed to consume you. You instinctively stepped back, trying to create some space, but his gaze never wavered. He noticed the subtle tension in your shoulders, the way you clenched your fists, fighting the urge to give in. His smirk widened.

You cleared your throat, desperately trying to regain control. "Does your brother know about your little secret life?" he asked, the question hanging in the air like a challenge.

You scoffed, playing with the necklace around your neck, anything to keep your hands occupied. "You must be kidding me, Crane. He would trap me here forever if he knew."

Jonathan’s gaze softened for just a moment, the flicker of something almost… tender passing through his eyes. But it was gone too quickly, replaced by that dangerous glint. You knew what he was doing—probing, testing—but somehow, it only made you want to push back even harder.

The "fragile sister" act was something you perfected over the years, and it worked on almost everyone, but not on him. He saw through it like a pane of glass.

You locked your arm with his, the sudden contact sending an electric jolt through your body. His suit fabric brushed against your forearm, the sensation sharp and crisp. You led the way toward the bar, aware of how close you were to him now, the space between you shrinking with each step.

"Cosmopolitan," you ordered, keeping your voice steady despite the storm of nerves swirling inside you.

Jonathan mirrored your choice, but when he spoke, his voice was as smooth as silk. "Irish Coffee," he said, the words languid, deliberate.

You watched him, unable to tear your eyes away as he brought the glass to his lips. The way his Adam's apple moved as he drank, the muscles of his throat working with each swallow—it was almost too much to bear. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck, a strange mix of desire and frustration clouding your judgment.

“Arkham? Seriously?” you jeered, taking a sip of your Cosmopolitan, rolling your eyes at the taste. It was your favorite drink, something familiar to ground you, but in this moment, it was only making your head spin more.

Jonathan’s lips quirked as you rolled your eyes. “What can I say? It’s my art,” he said, his voice tinged with something almost tender. His gaze lingered on you, studying the subtle shift of your expression, the way you seemed to battle with your own feelings.

Your heart skipped a beat when you realized how much attention he was paying to you. "What? You're a psychiatrist?" you asked, trying to sound nonchalant, but your voice wavered slightly.

“Guilty,” he replied with a mocking innocence, raising his hands in playful surrender. His signature smirk never left his face. You caught yourself staring longer than you should, your eyes lingering on the sharp lines of his jaw, the way the suit fit him so perfectly.

“Is there anything you don’t know how to do, Crane?" you asked, your voice betraying just the slightest hint of a tremor.

"Plenty," he replied with a quiet chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours. "But I’m certainly very good at reading people."

You couldn’t help but chuckle, despite yourself. “And what do you read when you look at me?”

He leaned in just a fraction closer, lowering his voice to a whisper that sent a jolt through your chest. “I see someone who’s much more complicated than you let on,” he said, his lips almost brushing your ear. “Someone who likes to play at being untouchable, but is only a few steps away from giving in.”

You felt a flutter in your stomach as he pulled back, watching you with that predatory, calculating gaze. It was almost like he knew exactly what you were thinking, exactly what buttons to press to make your breath catch in your throat.

You tried to shake the feeling, focusing on the drink in your hand, but you were keenly aware of every second that passed, every inch closer you stood to him.

“You don’t belong here,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

He swirled his glass, the dark liquid catching the light. “You’re too real for this place. Too vibrant for these hollow, glittering distractions.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. For a moment, you wondered if he saw you more clearly than anyone else ever had.

You shifted uncomfortably on your feet, suddenly hyper-aware of how much space there was between the two of you—and how much of it you wished was gone. Jonathan’s eyes narrowed in on your movement. “Worried about Bruce?”

“Yeah,” you said, trying to sound casual, “He’s probably wondering if you’re planning my kidnapping.” You laughed lightly, though the words didn’t sit right. You knew the game you were playing, but part of you wasn’t sure how far you wanted to go.

“Probably I am,” Jonathan grinned, leaning just a little closer, his eyes never leaving you. “I’ll make some outrageous, diabolical experiments with you in my lab, little bat.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way his words affected you, but the heat growing in your belly was undeniable. “Cut the villain chat. We did it two weeks ago.” You tried to sound harsh, but the sharpness of your tone was offset by the way your heart raced.

In a last-ditch attempt to push him away, you placed your hand on his chest, thinking it might create some distance. But instead, his chest was firm beneath your palm, and your hand didn’t budge. He didn’t move either, letting you rest there, his body as unyielding as his stare.

“Shit,” you thought, feeling your pulse race. You were too excited, too overwhelmed to rationalize. You cursed yourself inwardly, not just for the way he made you feel, but for how much you craved it. The way he made everything about this situation feel dangerous, thrilling. “Stop doing…it.”

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “What if I don’t stop?” he murmured, the words hitting you like a thunderclap.

Before you could even gather your thoughts, his hand gently grabbed your wrist, his fingers delicate but insistent, drawing you closer. You didn’t step back this time. You didn’t want to. His chuckle was low, a sound filled with satisfaction. You were finally becoming exactly what he wanted—submissive, vulnerable, and willing.

“You would be pretty as a picture,” he continued, his voice thick with desire, “laid down in my office divan…”

Your breath caught. The heat in your chest surged, and you unconsciously bit your lip, fighting the urge to surrender to the intoxicating tension between you. You couldn’t look away from him as his tongue slid over his lips, his eyes dancing with something you couldn’t quite name—but it made your pulse quicken.

“Then I would have to handcuff you” your sultry voice made his smirk even darker than before. You were overpassing dangerous limits. And you were loving it.

“I'd love to see you try.”

The space between you had disappeared entirely now. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the raw energy in his every movement. He was close—too close—and yet you couldn’t pull away.

"You really like to play with fire, don't you?" you whispered, almost to yourself, as his grip tightened just a fraction around your wrist.

“I don’t play with it, darling,” he whispered back, his voice silky, dangerous. “I control it.”

You were both standing on the edge now, teetering between what you were supposed to do and what you craved, the tension between you so thick it felt suffocating. And still, neither of you moved, locked in this dance, waiting for the other to make the next move.

The air around you seemed to thrum, charged with everything unsaid, everything undone. You finally dared to meet his eyes, and in that moment, you saw something dark, something longing, reflected in his gaze. Something that made your heart race even faster.

Perhaps this was the twisted fate of Gotham’s heroes—falling for the very thing they should fear the most: the alluring, dangerous villains who thrived in the shadows. You couldn’t help but wonder if Jonathan could sense the heat rising in you, the craving that had been building ever since he stepped into the room. You could feel his gaze sweeping the saloon, sensing his quiet triumph as Bruce remained absent. Your breath caught in your throat as you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could form a single word, Jonathan’s hand found the bare skin of your back, sending a shock through your body.

“I may kidnap you now. Can you be quiet for me, love?” he whispered, his divine scent playing with your senses. You nodded, following him like a pet obeying his owner.

To your surprise, Jonathan led you to the garden of Wayne Manor. It was quiet here, far from the bustling party yet still close enough for Bruce to find you if he bothered to look. The low, ambient lights in the garden created a serene atmosphere, and the crisp, cool air of the night seemed to settle around you like a cloak. It was like something out of a movie—beautiful, intimate, and impossibly far from the world you knew.

You watched him sit down on a bench, his posture relaxed, as he caught the amused glint in your eyes. You frowned, not hiding your disappointment, and reluctantly took a seat next to him. Your knees brushed together, the contact enough to make your pulse quicken despite yourself.

“I thought you were going to kidnap me, Crane,” you said, crossing your arms, attempting to shield yourself from the growing tension between you. Your voice was steady, but inside, you could feel your thoughts unraveling. There was no escaping it now. He had a way of making everything feel too real, too easy. You cursed your eagerness, the part of you that wanted this to continue, to sink deeper into whatever game he was playing.

He chuckled softly, a sound that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Oh, I certainly could, my darling,” he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours. His hand brushed gently against your back, the contrast of his rough fingers against your delicate skin making you shiver. “But I think I’ll play the long game. I need your brother’s trust first.”

You tilted your head, bewildered by his answer. “Good luck with that,” you teased, the words more out of habit than belief. You had expected anything but this—anything but the calm, almost gentlemanly side of Jonathan Crane. You had prepared yourself for danger, but instead, you were faced with something even more unsettling.

His hand traced a slow, deliberate path to your arm, gently pulling you closer into his side. You stiffened at first, but when his arm settled around your shoulders, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, it was hard to resist. Your head instinctively leaned against his shoulder, and you inhaled deeply, your senses overwhelmed by the intoxicating scent of him—something sharp, chemical, and deeply familiar.

"Do you make your own perfumes?" you asked softly, the question slipping out before you could stop it. The closeness, the intimacy, made you more vulnerable than you'd ever felt.

He seemed amused by the question. “Is that so obvious?” He adjusted his glasses, the movement casual but purposeful, as if he were both aware and unconcerned with how his presence affected you. “I suppose it’s my... little secret. A hobby, more than anything. I’d rather spend hours in my lab than anywhere else.”

You let out a quiet laugh, your voice warm and sincere. “I’ve never smelled anything like this before,” you said, feeling the truth of your words. "It’s... captivating."

Jonathan’s expression shifted, just slightly, as if your simple compliment had caught him off guard. For the first time that night, you saw a flicker of something deeper behind his cold exterior—a crack in the armor he wore so well. You had always seen him as untouchable, a force of nature, but in that moment, your kindness had unsettled him.

"You're talented, Jonathan," you added, your voice softer now, genuine in a way that made him hesitate. He didn’t respond immediately, as if weighing the impact of your words. The usual mask of confidence and control slipped ever so slightly, his eyes searching yours as if he could see more than you were willing to reveal.

"You’ve no idea how much you charm me, Ms. Wayne," he said quietly, his voice low, almost affectionate. The change was subtle, but it was there—an admission, a crack in the unbreakable façade he so carefully maintained.

You felt something shift between you in that moment, something that went beyond the physical. It was as if you were both trapped in a dance neither of you had chosen, neither of you fully understanding the consequences.

“What makes a woman like you fight against crime and the bad guys in this town?” Jonathan asked, his voice tinged with curiosity as he cleaned his throat. The tie around his neck seemed to tighten, as if the tension between you was becoming too much to ignore.

“A woman like me?” you raised an eyebrow, your gaze locking with his, focusing on his piercing blue eyes behind the lenses of his glasses.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “You’re smart, wealthy, independent, beautiful…” He whispered the last word, making you smile despite yourself. You flipped your hair, feeling the weight of his gaze as his eyes lingered on you.

“Beautiful?” you teased, crossing your legs. The slit of your dress gave him a glimpse of your skin, and you noticed his eyes tracing the curve of your leg, resting on your ankle adorned in golden heels.

“Ravishing,” he corrected, a flicker of something intense passing through his gaze as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The touch sent a ripple through you, and you quickly broke eye contact, your fingers unconsciously curling against the fabric of your dress.

You cleared your throat, the air between you thickening. “I’m an orphan,” you said quietly, your gaze drifting to the ground as you rubbed your arm.

Jonathan tilted his head slightly, his attention fully on you now. He didn’t press, just waited, and you continued, though it wasn’t easy. “I lived in several foster homes. Ended up on the streets at a very young age. I saw a lot of things I shouldn’t have… had to do whatever it took to stay safe.” You paused, taking a deep breath, trying to steady the quiet sadness that crept into your voice.

Jonathan’s expression softened, his eyes studying you closely. He reached out, gently brushing the backs of your hands, and for a moment, the sharp edges of his usual demeanor seemed to melt away, replaced by something more—human. You noticed the subtle change, the tenderness creeping into his touch.

He leaned back slightly, a quiet chuckle escaping him. “Bruce adopted you?”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. He said he saw something in me that he didn’t see in anyone else in this city. Something... special.”

Jonathan’s eyes flickered with something like recognition. “He’s right,” he said, a faint smile touching his lips. He seemed distracted for a moment, watching you with a kind of reverence, as if your words had unsettled him more than he cared to admit.

You could feel his gaze, and when you laughed softly, you saw a change in him—something more human. You noticed the subtle change, the tenderness creeping into his touch.  He leaned forward again, studying you closely. “So, what makes a man like you become Scarecrow?” you asked, a playful challenge in your voice as you gently poked his chest.  

“A man like me?” He scoffed, his eyes narrowing, amusement dancing in his gaze. “You don’t want to know, trust me.”  

He sighed, his attention turning to the flowers in the garden, a distant look in his eyes. “It’s a long, sad story. Terrible for a date, I presume.” A wry smile crept across his face as he adjusted his tie, his expression darkening slightly.

“I’m all ears,” you breathed, your voice softer now, coaxing him to continue, your hand finding its way to his, the coolness of his skin surprising against yours.  

He held your hand with hesitation, his fingers brushing against yours, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze. His breath caught as your skin met his, and he found himself drawn to the warmth you offered. No one had ever cared about him like this—not in the way you did. He’d always been the observer, the one who stayed hidden, but now, in this moment, with your hand resting in his, the walls he’d carefully built around himself started to crumble.

“All you need to know now, my dear, is that I was a child trapped in a world of dysfunction. A hopeless place where surviving was the only thing I could focus on.” His voice softened, a hint of sorrow creeping in. “I feared everything. And I learned to make fear my weapon—make it serve me, beneath me.” His throat tensed as he spoke, the words raw, stripped of the usual coldness.  

He fell silent for a moment, his gaze turned downward. You watched him, heart pounding as you gently kissed the knuckles of his hand. The gesture wasn’t just tender—it was understanding. In that small, quiet moment, you recognized something in him that mirrored your own hidden pain. His self-doubt, his isolation—they were the same as yours. The dark, haunted parts of him that no one saw. You realized then, with sudden clarity, that you were more alike than you had ever imagined.

Time seemed to slow as you both sat in that silence, the weight of unspoken truths filling the space between you. His hand tightened around yours, grounding you, his touch steady and reassuring.

The cool breeze shifted around you, the night darkening as the minutes passed. It was late, and the chill in the air seeped deeper into your skin, but the warmth from Jonathan’s presence kept you tethered, drawn into the magnetic pull of everything unspoken between you.

“I should go,” Jonathan said reluctantly, his voice heavy with unspoken longing. He tightened his grip on your hand, as if afraid to let go, but there was something else too—an overwhelming need that he couldn't ignore. He had come this far, obsession pulling him toward you, and now, the thought of you walking away felt like a betrayal, an unbearable distance that threatened to consume him.

“Please,” you begged, your voice raw, your eyes swollen from the emotions you were struggling to hide. Jonathan froze, his eyes tracing every flicker of feeling on your face, his carefully constructed facade starting to slip. In that moment, he wasn’t Dr. Crane, nor Scarecrow—the manipulative villain. He was simply Jonathan, the boy he buried deep within, hidden from the world. He wasn’t sure how to be anything else.

“Don’t cry, my dear,” he said softly, the words almost foreign to him, yet he felt compelled to say them. “You don’t want to ruin this beautiful makeup of yours.” His voice trembled slightly as he spoke, but he forced himself to swallow it back. The pain in his chest was growing unbearable, but he wouldn’t allow it to break him. Not in front of you. Not now. “I’ll be back.”

“When?” you whispered, your voice cracking.

“Soon, my dear. You know where to find me.” He stood up slowly, lifting you with him, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. His touch, now almost tender, guided you through the empty saloon. The soft click of your heels on the floor echoed in the quiet, each step toward Bruce feeling heavier than the last, each step pulling you further from Jonathan.

Bruce was waiting at the bar, his eyes locked on you as you approached. He sighed, a subtle, dismissive gesture, but you couldn’t ignore the weight of his presence. The air between you and Jonathan grew colder, thicker. Every step you took meant another inch between you and the man you had just shared something unspoken with.

“I was in the garden,” you said quietly, your hands raised slightly in a gesture of surrender.

“I know,” Bruce replied flatly, his tone cool, almost annoyed. “We have cameras all around here. In every corner.” His eyes shifted to Jonathan as he spoke, a subtle warning hanging in the air.

But Jonathan didn’t flinch. He didn’t step back. He stood tall, his posture as impeccable as ever, his gaze unwavering. Unlike everyone else in Gotham, he wasn’t afraid of Bruce Wayne. And Bruce respected that—more than he would admit.

Jonathan’s voice was smooth, almost bored. “I absolutely concur about proper security,” he said, his words carrying an edge of sarcasm that only Bruce seemed to pick up on. “Besides, security is something humans think they can achieve. But a man like you, Mr. Wayne, must be well aware of the dangers outside this mansion.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, a quiet approval in his expression. “I couldn’t have said it better,” he agreed, his mocking tone clearly present in his words. 

Jonathan chuckled softly, the sound low and almost amused as he stretched his neck, his gaze flicking back to you. “I shall go now. Have a good night.” His words were sharp but not unkind, and yet, the tension that lingered in the air spoke volumes.

As Jonathan turned to leave, the space between you and him seemed impossibly vast. The warmth of his touch still lingered on your skin, and yet, you were left alone with Bruce, a silent reminder of the distance between you and the man who held your attention in ways you couldn’t quite comprehend.

“He’s dangerous.” Bruce finally says after seeing Jonathan cross the heavy door of the saloon. 

“Don’t make me mention that minx cat of yours, Bruce” you shrill, making your steps to your room, hearing Brue complaining with Alfred about your reckless behaviour. 

You lock your bedroom door, wanting nothing more than to shed the revealing dress that had spent the night clinging to your skin. In your pajamas now, you sit on the bed, running your fingers over the stitches on your bare arms. His words echo in your mind, about how the marks on your skin matched his perfectly, as if your pain and his were somehow connected. You’d never expected to feel so… understood, not from someone like him.

Then, a notification chimes from your phone, slicing through the quiet room. You glance at the screen, a frown tugging at your face when you see an unknown number. Bruce had warned you about these late-night calls—how dangerous they could be. He’d always been protective, always vigilant. You take a steadying breath, trying to push away the lingering sense of unease, before you tap the screen to answer.

"Hello?" you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I hope you don’t mind my stalking, little bat," comes the voice on the other end, smooth and confident. "You’ve made your enemy obsessed with you."

Your body goes limp, the heat from his words radiating through the phone. The honeyed voice, so familiar and yet so intimate, wraps around you, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine. Jonathan Crane had a way of making everything feel unnervingly personal. You hadn’t seen him, but you could hear the satisfaction in his tone as if he were lounging comfortably, just waiting for this moment.

"I hope you didn’t find my number on the dark web or something like that," you continue.

Your pulse quickens, and despite yourself, you can’t help but smile a little. He always had a way of making you second-guess everything.

"Will I be less scary if I say that I was with Rachel minutes ago?" he adds, the nonchalance in his voice almost making you laugh.

You pause for a beat, then answer, "You were never scary to me."

Jonathan’s laugh is soft, almost pleased. "Oh, I know how brave you are, my dear. That’s why you’re so charming to my eyes."

The words leave you breathless, and for a moment, you find yourself clenching your fists to steady your racing heart. "You’re too sweet for a bad guy, Crane."

"Only for you, my darling." His voice softens, becoming almost tender.

"But Rachel? Couldn’t you just ask me?"You raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

"I fear my reputation would be ruined if I said I was too scared to ask for your number."

A warmth blooms in your chest, and your lips curve into a smile you can’t suppress. The man who had terrified Gotham—and even Batman—was shy, flustered by the simplest thing: you. You shake your feet in excitement, a little giddy at the thought that this powerful, cold-hearted villain was human in ways no one had seen before.

"Now, get some sleep, hm?" Jonathan says, his voice low, laced with something like affection.

"Yeah, I’m so tired," you admit, your words heavy with a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration.

"I bet you are," he replies with a playful, almost affectionate tone. "Goodnight, little bat."

"Goodnight, Jonathan." You linger on his name, savoring how it feels on your lips, a softness in the air between you now.

The call ends, and you sit in silence, the weight of the conversation settling over you. Jonathan Crane had hung up, but for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t Scarecrow or Dr. Crane to you. He was Jonathan. And for the first time in ages, he felt like a person again—like someone who could feel, who could be human, if only for a moment. His name sounded so sweet when you said it, and for him, it was the first time in a long time that anyone had said it like that.

[yourmomsawh0r3]

M A S T E R L I S T :

S E R I E S M A S T E R L I S T

dividers: @cafekitsune

PEDRO PASCAL:

✿ the oscars

✿ the after party

✿ the era’s tour

✿ espresso ✿ thunderstruck

Javier Peña: COMING SOON

Frankie Morales:

i’ve got you

ghost ✿ you’re home

Joel Miller:

✿ I love you

✿ You’re Mine

✿ Parenthood

✿ The Proposal

✿ Family Emergency ✿ haunted corn maze ✿ tiktok ✿ late night snack ✿ pampering day ✿ first date ✿ barbecue ✿ bowling ✿ the grand life

BRIDGERTON:

Colin Bridgerton:

✿ Jealousy Jealousy

✿ Welcome Home

Anthony Bridgerton:

✿ Dual of wits

✿ Lost ✿ desire

Benedict Bridgerton:

✿ A Bridgerton Wedding

✿ Paint

✿ Picnic

✿ Knight and shining armor

✿ Steamy

✿ Family ✿ jealousy ✿ stargazing ✿ beautiful ✿ game night ✿ masquerade ✿ quality time ✿ sting

CILLIAN MURPHY: COMING SOON

Tommy Shelby:

✿ heated

✿ suprise

RILEY GREEN:

✿ you look like you love me

Zach Top: country christmas

TYLER OWENS ✿ long time no see ✿ music video ✿ panic attack ✿ santa baby Glenn Powell: ✿ baby fever ✿ fuzzy pink handcuffs ✿ can you keep up? ✿ Juno

[fel-09]

"I need your attention "

Reader x Jonathan crane

His glasses

You knew this was bound to happen. It was too hard to resist. He’s completely engrossed in his work, sitting there with such a focused expression, as if the world around him is nothing more than sounds and lines on a screen. You could watch him get lost in it for hours, but today… today you can’t stand it any longer.

With a quick movement, you take his glasses from his desk. Oh, he hasn’t noticed? Well, that’ll be taken care of.

You put them on your face, trying to figure out how they fit. Silly? Of course. But you know he’s not going to like it. Suddenly, his gaze shifts up, and you catch that piercing mixture of indifference and annoyance in his eyes. He freezes for a moment, as though unsure whether to even react. And then…

"Really?" His voice is cold, but there’s something mocking in it. You remain silent. What’s there to say? It’s better to just enjoy the moment.

He walks over and takes the glasses off your face, and you feel his breath catching you off guard. He slows down, his lips almost brushing yours. You definitely didn’t expect that… And just like that, the moment is brief but so intense. It’s as if all the anticipation, all the irony, all this playful tension ends in one kiss. He pulls away, his face returning to its usual stone-like expression.

You stand there, heart racing now, but you know this isn’t the end. He doesn’t even realize that these moments… they’re just the beginning. Yes, you’ll do it again, and again.

"When you decide to toy with his nerves."

You’ve noticed how Jonathan always seems lost in his own world, where everything follows a strict order and logic. And then there's you — a bit of chaos, in the best sense. You've been trying for several minutes to break him out of his thoughts, using all the charm at your disposal. And now, you’ve got the perfect weapon. You don’t say a word, just leave his favorite book on his desk... upside down. Oh yes, you know how much he values order.

When he finally notices — of course, muttering something under his breath — you approach and, without saying a word, carefully correct the book. He goes quiet, and you can’t help but notice the slight twitch of his lips, a hint of irritation. But then his eyes change, something playful in them, as if he’s figured out your game.

“You know, that could have led to catastrophic consequences, right?” His voice is softer than you expected, but the sarcasm is unmistakable.

You don’t answer, just lean in close to his ear as you settle back in your seat. “But I think you’re exactly the type who wants to be aware of everything that happens, even when it’s not all that important, right?”

"When you won’t let him relax."

For Jonathan, every day is a tightrope walk between his structured world and the darkness he feeds off. He values silence, order. And you? You love to interfere with his world with ease. Right now, you’re sitting next to him, holding a pencil and sketchpad. You start drawing something completely unrelated to whatever’s on his mind. He continues working, occasionally glancing at you, but you keep drawing, deliberately leaving little details unfinished.

“Aren’t you planning on printing your thoughts anytime soon?” His voice has a hint of weariness, but you can tell his attention is already shifting toward you. You smile, enjoying how it’s starting to bother him that you’re encroaching on his space, and yet he can’t look away.

“You probably don’t realize how difficult it is to just sit here and keep quiet, do you?” you finally say, and he breaks his focus, looking you over.

"When you decide to be his ‘assistant’."

You’ve always known that his research is his weak spot. So one day, instead of just sitting and waiting for him to finish, you decide to help. But you do it your way. You take his pen and casually start scribbling odd words, mixing them with his usual notes. You know his obsession with order hasn't faded, but you're ready to tear it apart. You even start joking about his notes, rearranging letters or adding strange comments.

He realizes something’s off immediately but remains silent at first, watching you continue your work. He’s the idealist in this world, and you’re the disruptor.

“You think you can just change my work?” His voice is quiet, but there’s a faint smile on his lips, as though he knows this game is just beginning.

You don’t rush to answer, merely raising your eyes and teasing, “You know you can't exist without this, right?”

"When you invade his personal space."

He’s so used to being alone, and you know it. So you just can’t resist approaching him while he’s sitting in his chair, settling yourself on his lap without asking permission. His expression is one of surprise, and he goes silent for a moment, but then his lips curl into that familiar smirk. He doesn’t push you away, because he understands — If he refuses, you will become even more stubborn than before.

“You know this isn’t going to help, don’t you?” His voice still holds sarcasm, but there’s a hint of appreciation for your boldness.

You don’t answer immediately, simply raising your hand to gently touch his face. “You know I need a little... comfort, Jonathan. I think you don’t need to be so tense. You're not that closed off, are you?” You pull him closer, catching his gaze.

When you just can’t stay quiet."

Silence is his domain. It matters to him. But once you decide to break that silence by doing something absurd, he can’t ignore it. You start humming quietly, right next to him. Simple notes, an offhand melody, but he can’t block it out.

He falls silent, and you watch his face shift. His reaction? Hard to say. He didn’t know your voice could be this persistent. And still, you don’t stop, while he waits in silence.

“Is this some kind of joke?” His eyes gleam, and you don’t know what will happen next. But that moment — that small flicker of power — makes something shift in his gaze.

You glance at him, and once again, you’re on the edge — between play and reality.