#v || arkham in-patient

[rydr--system]

@the-arkham-librarian asked:

“Are you catching a cold?” (For Jack)

[random dialogue … sentence starters pt. ? - ACCEPTING]

"It feels that way. There must be something going through the ward. I saw other patients sniffling earlier." He rubs his temple, nursing a headache from the congestion and dizzying heat. "Any way you could get me something to take care of it?"

[paradiseprincesss]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝑻𝒐 𝑩𝒆 𝑬𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝑨𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 | Jonathan Crane

NOTES -> Hello hello! im gonna be in uni full time again starting first week of september so uploads will be much slowerrrr im sorry. I’ll try to write as much as i can for u my little loves!

REQUEST -> Based off the prompt 15 from this list here

SUMMARY -> Your boss, Jonathan Crane, plans on isolating you away from your old life, consuming you whole until you become nothing but devoted to him...and you're too naive to see the mind games that the expert psychiatrist is playing.

WORD COUNT -> 3.3k

WARNINGS -> Smut, p in v, soft!dark Jonathan, doctor/nurse relationship, boss/employee relationship, creampie

MASTERLIST

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jonathan felt his chest tighten as he narrowed his blue eyes behind his glasses. His focus was locked on you and only you, along with the orderly speaking to you for the last few minutes.

You were a nurse at Arkham, young and bright-eyed, so full of energy — and that caught Jonathan’s attention. Your unusually cheerful demeanour and sweet aura drew him in, whether he liked it or not. Maybe it was how you’d always give him a cute little wave every time he’d pass by you, or maybe it was how you’d smile at him when everyone else seemed to cower away from the stoic doctor. 

Or maybe it was because once he saw you leaving work in your everyday clothes instead of your usual scrubs, and when you seemingly bent over to pick up your keys which you dropped on the ground, he could see the lace of your pink panties poking out of your low-rise sweatpants — but I guess we’ll never know. 

See, that was the problem. You were so sweet, but you were like that with everyone you worked with; which made Jonathan feel inferior in many ways, but he promised himself that he’d have you eventually.

He didn’t want to hurt you by any means — oh god, no. He’d rather torture himself than watch you suffer through any anguish. However, he did want everyone around you to fall victim to a rather sinister fate if it meant they stayed away from you. 

Jonathan didn’t really consider himself a sadist, but watching those around you seemingly go missing and suddenly quit their jobs at Arkham (unwillingly, of course), derived an innate sense of pleasure within him. 

That was one of the perks of being the chief psychiatrist — he had all the power in the world to do whatever he pleased within the walls of Arkham, no matter who he hurt in the process. Jonathan would quietly fire many employees who he felt were “too friendly” with you, but he’d always tell you that they’d mysteriously quit or that they had changed jobs. 

“Perhaps they just didn’t have it in them to help the…unique patients we house here,” he’d say to you. “Not everyone is as dedicated and as kind as you are, you know?” 

Foolishly, you let his flattery get into your head; you let yourself fall for him without even realizing it.

You believed that the universe divinely guided you to him. You were sure of it — he was just so kind and understanding. You couldn’t believe the other staff of Arkham didn’t see him the way you did! How could they dislike him? Fear him? 

To Jonathan, you were like an angel that fell from above, capturing his cold, dead heart within your warm, beating, and very alive one. You were so kind to the patients, so gentle with them — and your patients only ever had good things to say about you. 

As you spoke to the orderly in front of you about what you did over the weekend, you noticed your boss looking rather tense from the corner of your eye. His jaw was clenched slightly, and his expression unforgiving. He exhaled sharply before ushering you over toward him, causing you to excuse yourself from your current conversation. 

“Doctor Crane,” you greeted sweetly, “how are you?”

“I’m rather stressed today,” he answered softly, taking on that same gentle tone that he always seemed to take with you. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Everything is fine, but I'm worried about you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently, cocking your head to the side slightly as if to emphasize your confusion. 

“I think perhaps we should speak in my office about this,” he offered. “Come with me, please.” 

Your smile suddenly faltered slightly as anxiety and paranoia ran rampant through your veins.

Your paranoid thoughts had to be put on the back burner as you took a seat across from him in his office, watching him as he sat down at his desk. His suit was pristine as always — and today, he opted for a brown sweater vest underneath it.

You’d count every thread and stitch on his suit for him if he asked you to. 

“Doctor Crane—”

“Just Jonathan is fine,” he interrupted before clearing his throat. “I wanted to speak to you in private about a certain concern of mine.” 

“What is it?”

He sighed before he took off his glasses and meticulously placed them on his desk. He leaned forward slightly, and you stayed quiet as he hesitated for a moment before his smooth voice finally cut through the silence in his office between the two of you. 

“I’m worried that you may be overworking yourself,” he explained, looking at you with his tantalizing eyes. “I notice you pick up shifts and work overtime frequently, and I worry that you may be taking on more than you can handle. As your boss, I just want to make sure that you’re not burning yourself out as that can’t be good for you, and I believe in a healthy work-life balance.”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth, unsure as to what you could say to him — that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say to you. Perhaps you had been overworking yourself, but that was just a part of you. Having a strong work ethic was something you strongly believed in, but maybe he was right. You couldn’t care for your patients if you were too exhausted to, right? 

Now that he mentioned it, you were quite tired today. You started to think about it — as of recently, you’d been slamming coffees left right and center to stay awake at work, hadn’t you? You just wanted to help out since you were fairly new around here, but maybe it was doing you more damage than good.

Jonathan saw your usually cheerful demeanour deflate in his office, and he looked at you sympathetically, “I know this is not something you’d want to hear, especially from your boss of all people — but I just want to ensure that all my staff are doing well, you know?”

You bit your lip for a mere second, hesitating to speak before you let the words fall from your lips, “You know, Jonathan, sometimes I feel like you’re the only person here who actually…cares about me.” 

He internally applauded himself — in a moment of vulnerability, you sought out comfort in him. Just like he had planned. Just like he wanted.

“I think you’re an exceptional nurse,” he mused, “and truthfully, I do enjoy working alongside you. So yes, of course, I care about you. I remember when I first started working after finishing my residency, I would exhaust myself constantly. I’ve learned through many years that it’s just not good for you.” 

Jonathan’s plan was being executed perfectly — he wanted to isolate you. He wanted you to come running into his arms, far away from everyone else around you. He was on his worst behaviour today, but he believed you brought out the best in him. 

You weren’t overworking yourself, but with Jonathan’s quick wit, years of training in psychology, and exceptional gaslighting skills, you thought perhaps he was right. Maybe you should take some time off of work, you thought.

“Tell you what,” he said softly, “how about you and I have drinks tonight instead? Forget about work and such. I think you need it.”

His words caused your cheeks to heat up. He was your boss, and this was way out of line for a boss to ask an employee. However, it didn’t help that you were very attracted to him.

“Drinks?”

“My place at eight. I have a bottle of cabernet I think you’d enjoy — If I remember correctly, you said it was your favourite?” 

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “It is.” 

“So I'll see you tonight at eight, then,” he smiled softly, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “I’ll text you my address.” 

You nodded, slightly starstruck. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Once you’d parked your car on the side of the neighbourhood street, you stepped out into the chilly night, your high heels clicking against the pavement of the ground loudly as you made your way onto his porch.

You gave three soft raps to his front door before you heard shuffling coming from inside the house. After a few moments, the front door swung open gently, and Jonathan stood there with a small smile on his face.

“Come inside,” he ushered you, “make yourself at home, darling.”

And so you did. 

You two talked over a few glasses of cabernet, bringing up the topic of work a few times here and there, but he mostly attempted to get to know the real you. What you did in your spare time, what your hobbies were, if you were seeing anyone…

“Out of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?” Jonathan asked you casually, but his voice dropped an octave as he looked directly at you, resting his hand on your thigh rather boldly. “I’m asking because I've seen the way you look at me…” 

“I-I’m sorry?” you stammered, your cheeks feeling warmer and warmer by the second with the way his hand was now resting on your leg. You couldn’t deny it now. “I didn’t mean…um, I just — you’re always so kind to me…and I–”

He shushed you softly, creeping his hand up a little further. “I’m quite flattered, darling. Not to worry,” he purred. “I figured it wouldn’t be very appropriate of me to tell you how hard it is for me to not look at you when you’re at work, but after today, I just don’t think I can help myself anymore…” 

Suddenly, his lips brushed up against yours, and as if it was instinct, your hands came to wrap around his shoulders. He let you pull him in even closer, his hands now coming to rest on your hips as you two kissed feverishly on his couch.

You and him were like a chemical reaction — explosive, unpredictable, and potentially fatal.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips in between kisses. 

A shiver ran down your spine as his hold on your hips tightened slightly, his words causing your brain to short-circuit for a moment before you could think clearly again. 

“Jonathan, I–”

“Don’t speak, just give into it, my darling.”

You let yourself get lost in the constellation that was Jonathan Crane, letting him run his hands all over your body and kiss you with an insatiable hunger. Soft moans left your mouth as he peppered kisses down your jawline and neck, nipping at the delicate skin gently. 

You would’ve been worried about him leaving marks because you wouldn’t want your boss to see the next day at work — but you had to remind yourself that he was your boss. 

But none of that mattered when it felt so right; when his lips felt so good against your skin.

“Can I take this off?” he rasped, toying with the strap of your dress. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Please, Jonathan…”

Slowly, he took the dress off of your body, gently tossing the garment to the side as he looked at you in absolute awe. It was like looking at a priceless piece of art in a museum exhibit to him — nothing could compare. Even a picture wouldn’t do the sight in front of him justice. 

“Should we go upstairs?” you suddenly asked. 

Maybe it was the handful of wine you’d shared that evening, or maybe it was just sheer arousal; you weren’t sure which one, but all you knew was that you needed him to have his way with you. 

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, taking your hand in his. “Just up the stairs to the left — I think I'll let you lead the way, darling…”

The two of you got up from the couch, hand in hand, and Jonathan’s eyes roamed your body from behind as you made your way up the stairs together. 

Of course, you came prepared — you know, just in case things were to happen. Before you left, you threw on your sexiest, laciest, lingerie underneath your dress, and it was a good thing you did because that investment certainly paid off.

He watched your hips sway in your lingerie, along with the heels you were still wearing (because we simply can’t forget about those), and he could feel his cock straining against his pants. “Pretty girl,” he mumbled from behind you. “Your body is heavenly.” 

“Shush,” you giggled, grabbing him by his tie and pulling him close once you reached the bedroom. 

He looked down at you in the dim lighting of his bedroom, noticing the way your skin was glowing under it. Your hair was slightly messy from making out on the couch earlier, and you had a small smile tugging at your lips — you were perfection if he’d ever seen it. 

Jonathan kissed you rougher this time, his hands finding their way into your hair, tugging ever so gently against your scalp. He backed you up onto the bed, pushing you down onto it as he undid his tie, looming over your delicate body which was sprawled out on his king-sized bed. 

After taking his tie off, he threw off his suit jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. You hummed softly, running your heel against his leg as he rushed to get himself out of his clothes. The tent in his pants made it all the more obvious how desperate he truly was for you, but you stayed patient. 

Once he was on the bed with you, he helped you out of your bra and panties, causing your cheeks to heat up from how exposed you felt. “You’re cute when you blush,” he commented when he noticed your blush, making you all the more flustered while he undid his belt. 

After freeing himself, his thick, veiny cock caught your attention, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. He was big — you weren’t sure how that was supposed to fit, but right now you were so wet, you were almost certain your walls would stretch out around him with ease. 

He lined himself up with your dripping entrance, giving himself a few strokes before looking at you with his lip caught between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he whispered, and you nodded feverishly. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

Your back was arched and you let out a filthy moan as he slid himself into your warm, sticky cunt with little resistance. The sheer size of him alone had you feeling so full, and he stilled as he bottomed out in you so that you could adjust to him. “Tell me when,” he said softly, his hand coming to brush up against your hips softly. 

“You can move now,” you breathlessly said, giving him the green light. Your breath got caught in your throat as he started to set a gentle but deep pace, the tip of his cock brushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust. 

“O-oh–” you moaned.

His hands found purchase on your hips, and his eyes trailed over your face as he fucked you sensually, but slowly, eventually going harder and faster as you got accumulated to him. “So fucking tight, Jesus—” he choked out. You’d never heard him curse before, and his smooth voice had you clenching around him, to which he let out another moan. “Fuck, darling — you feel so good.” 

“Mm-hmm!” you squeaked, taking his cock deeper and deeper into your soaked cunt with every stroke. “Jonathan, fuck—!”

“Right there, darling?” he cooed softly, slamming his cock into your hole much rougher now, causing you to see stars as he stretched you open on his thickness. “Feels good, baby?” 

“Yes, yes, yes — oh my god!” you chanted, grabbing onto his biceps as you felt his fat cock drilling you. You were letting out feverish moans, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you became increasingly more cock-drunk by the minute. 

Your moans were like music to Jonathan. Like the sound he would hear being played once he died and went to heaven — because to him, this was heaven. You’d come running into the arms of the man who was slowly isolating you, breaking you; cornering you into his heart. 

But there’s always something so right about something so inherently wrong, isn’t there? 

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he groaned, watching you with furrowed brows as he concentrated on your pleasure. “Are you close, darling? Fuck, you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered breathlessly, moans being forced out of you with every delicious thrust he gave your cunt. “Gonna– oh, I’m gonna cum!” 

Jonathan watched in a mixture of pure bliss, awe, and satisfaction as you fell apart in his very hands. Yes — this is where he wanted you. He just wanted to love you, to show you how perfect he was for you, to take care of you and make you see that everyone else around you was just a waste of time. 

No more talking to orderlies who’d flirt with you, no more going out for after-work drinks with the other nurses. No, none of that. He was going to make sure that you’d work under him only, figuratively and literally.

“Gon’ cum,” he groaned, feeling his cock spurting ropes of cum into your warm, tight hole as he gave you a few more lazy thrusts, not bothering to pull out. Your mind went blank as he filled you up wholly, stuffing you with his sticky, warm seed as you lay there fucked out from what just happened moments prior. “Why don’t you stay over tonight?”

You looked up at him groggily, mind still foggy from your orgasm. “What? I work tomorrow–”

“Take a paid day off,” he shrugged, pulling his softening cock out from your worn-out hole. “Use as many as you’d like darling, I won’t tell.” 

His teasing words caused you to throw your head back into the pillows blissfully with a sigh, genuinely believing that he only had your best interest at heart — he just didn’t want you to overwork yourself. It’s not like he was planning on totally locking you away from every living being in Gotham besides him or anything…

“I feel bad though,” you murmured sleepily. “I feel like I’m – I dunno – abusing my privileges.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty girl,” Jonathan assured you softly, turning off the lights so that only the moonlight was dimly shining into his bedroom. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head as he pulled the covers over you both, cradling you in his arms like you were made of fine china. “You know I only want what’s best for you.”

“You’re so lovely, Jon. You truly have such a kind soul.” 

“Surely nothing compared to yours, my darling,” he whispered against your hair as you closed your eyes. “Now, get some rest. We can talk about moving your things in here in the morning…”

Unfortunately, you had already dozed off in his embrace; too busy being washed away by sleep to hear his words. Jonathan smiled to himself — he’d never let you go now. You’d lost all control the moment you stepped into his house, unknowingly making yourself a hostage of some sort.  

In the end, as you clung to him, believing he was the saviour from your exhaustion, you failed to see that it was his “love” that had slowly consumed you whole, leaving you nothing but a hollow shell, devoured by the very hands that promised refuge.

Sometimes, the most dangerous traps are the ones we walk into willingly, thinking they’re the key to our freedom, as they say. But the cruel irony of it all is that we think we’re being saved from the jaws of this terrible world, only to be eaten alive by those who we call our saviours. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Taglist -> @girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebellebarnes @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love @cranecat

[mothhball]

Positive Reinforcement

Pairing | Jonathan Crane x delusional!Reader (fem)

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

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

Words | 6.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then I'm not doing it."

Crane sighs, pulling out his work phone.

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

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

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

Damn. Did he have to make it domestic?

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Understand what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I mean it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Loyalty. Another pillar of an unbreakable bond.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?”

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jonathan…”

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

“Fuck – “

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C… can you – “

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

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

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

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

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

“There we go… stretched open so well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“N… no…” you whine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you…”

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

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

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

SCAREDY CAT

KINKTOBER DAY 14 - PET PLAY WITH JONATHAN CRANE

Pairing.| Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary.| You are Catwoman, you’ve heard word of Scarecrow’s fear toxin and want it for yourself. However he had already anticipated this and desired a kitten of his own.

Warnings.| Dubcon, p in v, head f!receving, rough sex. scratching, pet play (not extreme), stockholm syndrome, abduction, drugging, pet names.

Word Count.| 2.3k

Notes.| I really did have the most fun writing my Jonathan stories, I won't lie. But this one is for you my love, @paradiseprincesss

Jonathan huffed as he slammed the door behind him, He shook his damp, dark hair, droplets of rain sprinkling onto his clean floors and walls as he slid off his coat. After a long draining day at work, there was only one thing that could make him feel better. Relaxing with his kitten. But returning home always started off as a game of hide and seek.

As he called out your name, his voice echoed down the hall. There was never a blissful response from you. After taking off his shoes and neatly placing them by the door, Jonathan picked up his briefcase and wandered down the floorboards in search of you. “Here, kitty kitty” Jonathan clicked his tongue as he dropped his suitcase on the kitchen table. 

Poking his head around many rooms, he ended up in his office, smiling as he spotted you from the gap under his desk. Not wanting to frighten you, he called out your name calmingly. Turning the corner, he poked his head underneath his desk. A wide cheshire cat smile grew on his lips. “There you are kitten” Jonathan chuckled at you, his head tilted and blue eyes wide as he looked down at you.

Once upon a time, you were the infamous Catwoman of Gotham City. The rumors of a mad Doctor possessing an anxiogenic drug which induces intense irrational fear to its users felt too good to be true. In Gotham City, you had too many enemies. Getting your paws on that toxin would literally scare those enemies far away. 

The plan was foolproof, break into his office and still a couple (or more) of doses. Arkham Asylum was a nuthouse, the Doctor would never have any time to reside in his office, surely. But, your accomplice ratted you out for an easy paycheck. Turns out that the Doctor of Fear admired your work immensely, and found joy in you wanting a taste of his fear toxin, so he obliged in that personally. 

Jonathan kept you in a hidden room in the asylum for weeks, months even. His other patients lacked treatment on his behalf, because he was too obsessed with experimenting with you. However, when he’d return home after a long day, he found himself missing you. The big house he comfortingly slept alone in, suddenly felt empty. So, he trained you to act more domestically for him. This way he’d be able to focus on his other areas of work and feel the gleeful emotions of coming home. 

Therefore, you were curled up into a ball up against the wooden boarding as you batted your glossy eyes at him. Wearing nothing more than a short black skirt, cropped white blouse and black collar with a clear jewel dangling from it. The heating wasn’t on so Jonathan pouted his sympathy for your coldness as your body shivered. He should have dressed you warmer for today. 

With his hand out towards you, as if you call you towards him, Jonathan made kissy noises. Fingers rubbing together, Jonathan tilted his head forward, a warning for if he had to crawl under to get to you. Gradually, you got on all fours and crawled out from the desk.

“Let’s take your medication” Jonathan announced as he opened his arms for you. 

Timidly, you reached out for him and he lifted you up, your legs wrapped around the small of his back as he carried you to the kitchen, your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck as he hummed in satisfaction. His hand rested just below your bare ass, Jonathan didn’t want you to ever wear panties. 

Placing you on top of the island in the kitchen, he pulled a key out of his pocket for a locked hanging cabinet. He unlocked the door and retrieved a small white plastic pill container. To accompany your medicine, he grabbed a fresh water bottle from the fridge and cracked it open. Willingingly, you drank from the water bottle and slipped the blue pill into your mouth, swallowing it after a few seconds. Cautiously, Jonathan inspected your mouth, nodding his head with a wide grin of satisfaction afterwards. 

He didn’t want to, but he had to keep you drugged up. Because one time you almost scratched his eyes out. The faint scar on his left cheekbone can prove that. Even though Jonathan admired your robustness, he couldn’t risk going to work with a clawed up face everyday. So, he produced a unique sedative mixed with a sliver of fear toxin to keep you physically delayed like a fat cat. But mentally on all four paws, just like a scaredy cat. 

The variation of the fear toxin was intriguing however. Whenever Jonathan displayed negative emotions towards you, his figment would appear sinister. Yet, if he was warm towards you, the illusion of him would urge the thought of being looked after by him. 

Jonathan looked at the cat bowl on the floor, still full of the food he filled it with this morning. Slowly his eyes turned back onto you and you hid your face in between your hands. His fingertips slipped underneath your collar as he pulled your neck closer to him. 

“You haven’t eaten today, kitten?” Jonathan cocked an eyebrow at you, sighing softly in disappointment. 

“The medicine rids my appetite” you mumbled, your voice hoarse due to a lack of speaking. Sniffling at him, you felt the fresh dose of fear toxin prick at your nerves. 

“Bad kitty, what did I tell you?” Jonathan tutted towards you, his voice turned sinister as the toxin took effect. 

“But it makes me feel sick” you whimpered back, blinking your prickling eyes at him. 

“Because you haven’t eaten properly in days” he shot back harshly, his white fangs flaring at you. It was the toxin, but you always struggled to see the lining between real and illusion.  

However, it was more so weeks, months, since the moment of your abduction really… This new accidental diet of yours has made you drop a fair amount of weight. The drugs suppress your appetite frequently, not that you were ever keen to be on all fours as you ate below him. 

You tried to slip off the bench, a growing urge to satisfy him by forcing the food down your tightening throat. But Jonathan blocked you in between him with his arms. 

“No, no… It’d be stale and sickening now. Gonna have to wait until dinner time kitten” Jonathan explained, his nose running up your neck slowly as he inhaled your scent. 

Goosebumps populated over your cold skin. The sound of his breathing echoed down your eardrums as you closed your eyes. Gently, Jonathan kissed your jawline, casually making his way over to your soft lips. The kiss was passionate yet tender. Hesitantly, your arms wrapped around his upper back. When he didn’t react, you tightened the hold, exhaling in relief. 

“Was thinking of just ordering something in, I can’t be bothered cooking tonight, it was such a stressful day kitten, work can be really draining sometimes” Jonathan spoke in between kisses. 

Honestly, he didn’t have much of an appetite either. His hunger was craving you instead. With his hands running over your bare stomach, your ass slipped to the edge, legs wrapping around his stomach due to his shorter height. 

“I can cook something for you” you offered in a shaking voice, your hands holding onto his upper body for support. Jonathan cocked an eyebrow to you and pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose. 

“Really? Oh that would be so kind of you, my good kitty” Jonathan complimented as he brushed your hair behind your ears.  

You’d need his assistance, or at least to be watched over. He still didn’t trust you, especially with a knife in arms reach. But the thought of you willingly wanting to do something for him was sweet. Speaking of sweet- 

“Let your owner feel your sweet pussy” Jonathan grumbled as bent over his body, hands cupping underneath your cheeks. 

“Yes Jonathan” you sighed, propping your elbows behind you in support. 

Jonathan bent his hip down as he admired your pussy, his own claws dug into your outer thighs. Firstly, he deeply breathed in your sweet scent. Then stubbornly, his tongue ran up and down your cunt. Jonathan was always too eager to eat you out. The skills and methods of his tongue could not be taught. This was pure talent which could never be duplicated. It was humiliating to admit that Jonathan was your best lover. The cocky bastard knew he was as well, no other man would even try to compete if they saw the movements of his tongue alone. 

You never bothered to shy away from your moans. Jonathan told you from the beginning that you might as well make the best out of your new living conditions. Your nails scratched over the marble as you tried to find something to grip onto. Needily, your hands slipped into his dark locks, tugging roughly at his roots. 

“You like this, yeah? Being taken care of by me?” Jonathan groaned against your cunt, his cock desperately twitching in his pants as his hips squirmed. 

You quickly nodded your head to him, purring out your answer. But you whined out when his cold lips popped off of your dripping lips. His lean body raised up, already smirking at you as he unbuckled his belt. As you propped yourself back onto your elbows, Jonathan’s pants dropped to his knees, his boxers scrunched up at his mid thigh as he stroked his cock slowly. You’re pulled off the island and flipped around, your chest pressed into the cold marble as you stood on your tippy toes. 

“Yeah… You love my big cock too don’t you?” Jonathan murmured as he lined up his throbbing length to your entrance. 

“Yes Jonathan, I love your cock so much” you purred deeply. 

With a cheeky grin, Jonathan pushed his tip inside of you. After a few seconds of smiling to yourselves, Jonathan pushed himself into your warmth, inch by inch. Biting at his lower lip, his hands rested on your lower back, ready to pound into you as if life depended on it. 

When he did commence his rough thrusts, your arms snaked back to hold your hips up as your claves felt like they were on fire. Jonathan huffed and flipped you around once more. As you were pulled up by your thighs, you wrapped your calves around his lower back as yours was shoved into the edge of the bench. Hissing out, your hands slid up the back of his button up shirt. Your claws dug into his bare back, Jonathan snarled out, but the smile was euphoric. The sound of his balls slapping against your sensitive skin echoed throughout the kitchen. The both of you were panting as you felt your orgasm climb up your walls. 

“Ugh! I’m so glad you broke into my office! Can’t believe the infamous catwoman fell into my arms. I couldn’t report you, no, no… They’d treat you like an animal” Jonathan whined out, his cock twitched in your velvet walls. 

Being his little pet was a privilege, in his devilish blue eyes at least. He’d feed you (as if he’s drug wasn’t an issue), bathe you, cloth you (sort of), caress you and most importantly, fuck you. Everyday he’d make sure that you’d experience multiple orgasms. Because his kitten deserved the finest life. 

All you had to do was, well, act like a cat for the most part. Yes, there were times where he would allow your humanity to show by walking on two feet, or eating at the dining table. And gosh, he'd never by a bag of cat litter for you. But Jonathan wanted you to stick to your alter ego. Some days he’d let you wear your mask, just to remind you of your past. My, sometimes he'd even wear his own mask too to really get into the scene of it all. It was tormenting however, it made you want to search for a way out of this prison. But you knew the consequences of that by now. If you were disobedient, he’d discipline you, more humanly though. A proper spanking always got his point across. 

Jonathan liked to have you sleep at the end of his bed every night. On some nights -if he was feeling rather generous- he’d allow you to crawl up and sleep on his chest. The sound of his heartbeat easily got you to sleep. He’d often wake up to you purring against his chest. 

Yes, being Jonathan’s kitten wasn’t your worst outcome. It was thoughtful of him, to indulge in your past life. It was much better than being one of his patients in Arkham, that's for sure. Gotham City was a fearful city, he was just protecting you from the many dangers at the end of the day. You were his to protect now, to love and own. 

That mind of his was ingenious, he always knew how to time it for you both to finish in unison. Jonathan moaned out as his ropes of white shot deep into your canal, his head fell against your neck as he suckled at your heated skin. You held onto him for dear life, feeling the aftermath waves of pleasure from your own orgasm. The fresh claw marks would add to the personal art piece of your creativity. But Jonathan loved it, his back and his chest were the only areas he gave you permission to mark. 

As Jonathan took in a deep breath, he lifted his head from the crook of your neck and lowered you to your feet. Jonathan smiled down at you as he readjusted his glasses, lenses all foggy from your activity. You nuzzled your nose against his face, a soft smile on your lips. 

“Come on then kitty, make us a lovely meal before I get hungry for you again” he purred by your ear.

[kiss-me-cill-me]

hear me out:) reader wants to try vanilla sex with Dr.Crane since he always has some kind of twist or experiment when it came down to it. And he ends up doing her against the wall and it’s just really intimate. love your works, and it’s totally fine if this isn’t something you would write🤗

I love a challenge haha ;) And I always enjoy getting to explore different sides of a character. While he might not be nice in most of my fics, I do think that Crane has a sweet side. Somewhere in there lmao. Thank you for requesting, anon!

V. planifolia

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: Your boyfriend comes home unexpectedly early, and you take the opportunity to try something new.

Warnings: Smut, dom/sub dynamics, mentions of bondage, mentions of edging, slight overstim, dirty talk, dumbification if you squint, dare I say... some domestic fluff? (in MY Jonathan Crane?!), established boyfriend/girlfriend relationship

A/N: The biggest mental hurdle I had to overcome in writing this was referring to him as "Jonathan" instead of "Crane" lmao. He's just always Crane in my head. And while things are pretty vanilla, he's still sassy, because... well, it is me writing him lol

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

You were so used to your boyfriend coming home late that it was almost a surprise when he showed up just thirty minutes after you'd finished dinner.

“Jonathan?” you called, cautiously getting up from the couch to investigate.

You'd heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, so logic dictated that it couldn't have been an intruder. But it was barely seven o’clock, and Jonathan didn't usually get home until after you were already in bed. He worked long hours; he always had. So you were shocked to see him standing there in the entryway, setting down his briefcase as he closed the door behind him.

“Baby? What are you doing home early?”

At the sound of your voice, he looked up. A small smile fluttered over his face; his eyes pale and tired, until they caught a glimpse of you. There was that mischievous little spark that you loved.

“Sorry to startle you,” he replied. “I can leave if you'd like.”

He was joking, and you laughed a little as your arms wrapped around his waist. Your bodies found each other easily, and you felt yourself sink against him in that comfortable way that you knew so well.

“No way - you're not getting away from me that easily,” you teased.

Your lips brushed against his, and Jonathan pulled you in closer until you were kissing him. As you sighed happily, you realized that it had been - approximately - forever since the last time you'd had an evening alone with him. You pulled away and looked back at him softly; gentle concern tinting your eyes.

“I'm happy you're home, but is everything okay?” you asked. “You really are back early.”

“Everything’s fine,” he assured you.

Jonathan gave you one more squeeze before he gently broke the hug, trailing off in the direction of the living room. You followed, a small skip already creeping into your step. Your smile threatened to break out at any moment. It was so good to have him home.

You watched from the doorway as Jonathan dropped heavily onto the couch, leaning his head back to look up at the ceiling as he sat. His jacket was already thrown over the back of a chair, and he rolled up his shirtsleeves, not watching what he was doing.

“I know that I haven't been home much,” he continued. His voice seemed to fill the room, making the small space feel even more intimate. “Work has been eating me alive.”

“I hope not literally,” you joked.

Though you could never be sure. Some of the patients he worked with at Arkham were… unique, to say the least.

“Not yet.”

He lifted his head to look over at you, briefly, before reclining again and throwing an arm over his face. Even with his eyes shielded, you could still feel the lingering, icy cold rush of his gaze. You walked over and knelt at his feet, helping him to remove his shoes.

As you tugged at the laces, you felt a surge of devotion wash over you. Jonathan always worked hard. Even though, yes, he wasn't around much during the week, he made sure to provide for you. In fact, you were sure that was all part of the reason why he so often worked late. 

Once his shoes were off, you let your soft fingers drift up his leg, brushing against the fabric of his trousers.

“Did you have dinner? Do you want something to eat?”

“Maybe later,” Jonathan replied, as he took hold of your wrist.

Gently, he pulled you until you were standing up, and then until you were straddling him, your knees pressed into his sides.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” you asked, settling into his lap.

As you spoke, your hands came up to rest on his shoulders. Kneading into his tension, you could feel as his arms relaxed under your touch. 

“I just want to spend time with you.”

His fingers trailed over your thigh, and you knew instantly what he meant.

“Oh, so that's why you're home early,” you teased.

You leaned in to kiss him again, this time slipping a finger to hook under the knot of his tie, pulling him closer to you. His tongue brushed against yours, and it sent an electric jolt down your spine.

“Aren't I allowed to miss you?” he teased back.

You felt your cheeks heat up. Both of you knew very well that Jonathan was always the one in charge in the bedroom, and hearing him talk as if you were the one who imposed rules on him made you feel flustered.

“You have no idea,” he continued, “how hard it is to work late, when all I can think about is how you’re here all alone. Waiting up for me. You've been good though, right? Haven't been touching yourself without me?”

The heat on your cheeks deepened, traveling all the way down to your core. 

“O-of course not,” you replied, cursing the way your voice caught in your throat. It was just like him to somehow have you wrapped fully around his finger less than five seconds in. “You know I wouldn't.”

Jonathan hummed, and pushed your hips up and off of his lap as he brought a hand down to brush softly over your clit. You jumped, even feeling him through all your clothing, and your knuckles stretched tightly over his shoulders. 

“Seems like you're telling the truth…”

And you were. You melted into his touch as Jonathan swirled his fingers against you, pressing them roughly. After going without for so long, every nerve felt as if it was on fire in between your legs.

“Ohh…”

Your soft sigh earned you more pressure from Jonathan; his fingers nearly digging into your clothed cunt. You rocked your hips, desperately throwing your head back as you held onto his shoulders for support.

“Stop,” he ordered.

“Mmmmmph.”

Your petulant whine filled the room, and your frustration only grew as Jonathan took his hand away. His command had been gentle, but you were so needy that it felt like torture.

Swiftly, Jonathan stood up and took you with him. Still holding onto your hips for support, he made sure your feet were on the ground before stepping forward. He backed you up with him, until your shoulder blades hit the far wall.

“I really have been away for too long, haven't I?” he breathed, filling your mouth with the taste of anticipation.

“It's okay… I know you're busy at work.”

“You're too nice,” Jonathan sighed. “I want to hear just how badly you’ve missed me.”

Almost instantly, he got what he wanted as you cried out, shocked by the way his leg pushed eagerly between yours. He pressed harder, still looming over you.

“That's better.”

“Jonathan-”

“Want me to tie you up like I did last time?” he interrupted. “Or do you want to try something new?”

It was impossible to miss the hint of excitement in his deep voice. You moaned as he dragged your hips down even harder, pressing your bodies together with an intensity that was almost too much.

“I- was thinking it might be nice to try something a bit different,” you answered, your voice slightly fragmented as he unbuttoned your pants.

“Mmm. You have any ideas?”

You took a deep breath. What you had in mind probably wasn't the same as whatever twisted idea was running through Jonathan’s head. It wasn't that you didn't like experimenting. It was just… you didn't like doing it all the time. 

“I was thinking… what if we just took things slow?” you ventured.

“What? Like you want me to edge you?”

“No, not… exactly like that.”

It was getting harder to articulate, as Jonathan’s mouth latched onto your neck, sucking and biting as he moved up toward your jaw.

“Like what, then?” he whispered wickedly, right in your ear.

“Like… what if we were just kinda… gentle?”

Jonathan pulled back to look at you, the slight hint of a frown on his lips.

“But you like when I'm rough with you.”

“I do!” you rushed to agree. “It’s just that… sometimes I want you to be slow and sensual.”

Your arms inched up to hook round his neck, and you pulled him in for a soft kiss, trying to show him what you wanted. Jonathan was stiff at first, but eventually he melted into the slow movement of your lips.

When the kiss broke, Jonathan took a step back, removing his thigh from between your legs. He pushed his hands under your waistband and started to, very slowly, shove the fabric down over your hips.

“We can try that,” he relented. Then added with a mischievous wink, “But if you get bored… just let me know.”

You hummed as his hands slid over your curves, dragging your pants down with them. Jonathan never did anything halfheartedly, and if you wanted it slow, then that was exactly how he would give it to you. Even if it did drive you crazy in the process.

Your slacks fell, pooling below you on the hard floor. Jonathan paused for a moment, before planting a kiss on the exposed skin below where your blouse had started to fall away. He pushed back your collar, to kiss more and then send a shiver right after, as he breathed over the wetness that had been left behind by his mouth.

He stood up straight, pressing an airy kiss to your forehead as his fingers trailed over the lace of your panties.

“Am I doing it how you want me to, darling?” he asked.

You felt yourself swoon again. You weren't used to him following your lead quite like this, but you liked it. A lot.

As was clearly evidenced by the wet spot that had started to seep through the fabric that Jonathan was toying with. He found the trace of your arousal easily enough, and pressed two of his fingers into the damp cotton.

“Nevermind. I have my answer.”

Slipping your already-ruined panties to the side, Jonathan brushed his fingers over your core before bringing them up to your clit. Swirling with just the right kind of pressure, he dragged a soft moan from your lips.

“Oh my god,” you sighed. “Keep going.”

He kissed you, slowly but sinfully, swallowing all of your breathy sighs and words of admiration as they slipped out. It was impossible to contain them, especially when you started to feel his own arousal as it pressed up against your hip, seeming to grow more impatient the harder he got.

“Jonathan- so close,” you whined, breathless already.

“You sure you don't want me to edge you?” he asked, maybe a little hopefully.

“No - please, let me come.”

The pressure was already building. Soon, neither of you would have any choice in the matter. You just had to get him to keep going, long enough for you to push past the point of no return.

“Well, if you're asking so nicely…”

Another searing kiss sealed your fate, and you scrambled to hang onto Jonathan as you felt yourself start to crumble.

He held you, still pressed firm against the wall, and you heard a deep chuckle resound from his throat.

“Good to know even this kind of stuff makes you a mess,” Jonathan droned. “Or maybe you're just so used to me doing everything I want to you, that this actually counts as variety now.”

You were barely listening to him; still too distracted by the delightfully sore feeling that seemed to permeate your whole body.

What you did notice was him slipping your panties the rest of the way off, letting them fall at your feet before gently guiding you to step out of them. With that done, he turned his attention to your blouse, delicately removing it and then tossing it to the side.

Your hands came up clumsily to paw at the buttons on his shirt, trying in vain to release them. Jonathan saw you were struggling, and gave you a small, knowing smile.

“Let me help, darling. It seems like you're having some trouble.”

You moved your hands to let Jonathan take over. He loosened his tie easily, and popped three of his buttons. But, quickly, he lost interest, and instead moved to unzip his pants.

When he finally sprang free, his cock hit your still-throbbing clit.

“Ah!” you hissed.

“Still sensitive?” Jonathan asked, rubbing himself leisurely against you.

Your only response was a whimper, but that was answer enough. Jonathan’s lips curled into a wicked smile, as he hovered close to your ear.

“Hold still,” he teased, reaching down to line himself up.

You squirmed, fighting within yourself as half of you wanted to scream at the sensation while the rest of you, conversely, needed to grind down harder. Every contact made you jump, and as he pressed in, you saw stars.

“Jonathan…”

You had expected him to start moving, but instead he held off. Staying right where he was, Jonathan paused so that you could feel just how completely he filled you. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, sickly sweet voice dripping into your ears.

“Fuck,” you replied.

He laughed.

“You’ve lost quite a bit of your usual eloquence.” He started to drag himself out. “But okay. Since you asked nicely again…”

As he pressed back in, slow but rough, you couldn’t help letting out an undignified sound. Jonathan smirked.

When he did it again, your whole body shifted, pressed up by the force of his thrust. Your head rolled back, hitting the wall lightly before lolling off to the side. 

“You’re so pretty,” he sighed.

As he spoke, he reached down to hook one of your legs up and over his waist. The new angle caused you to let out another choked whine, which earned you an even harder thrust.

“Maybe we should do this more often. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you like this.”

You could only imagine how you must have looked. Mouth hanging open and eyes half-shut, rolling back into your head from the pleasure as your chest heaved and your knees gave out. Jonathan smoothed a thumb over the edge of your jaw.

“Even though I can’t stop thinking about all of the other things I’d like to do to you,” he added, punctuating the sentiment with his hips. You swore you felt him shudder.

Kissing your suddenly-warm neck, Jonathan thrust into you again. Your hips snapped back weakly to meet him, and you heard yourself start to moan. You held onto him tighter, dragging your nails down his arms.

“I thought you wanted to be gentle?” he teased.

He hadn't been going very fast, but now he slowed down entirely. For a moment, the two of you stood, face to face, your breath and his in a sweltering mix, pooling out in the scant space between you.

Jonathan’s forehead came to rest against yours, and you looked up into the blur of his eyes. Two hazy pools of blue ice that were filling your vision completely.

“Want me to speed up?”

“No, this is nice,” you replied. A bit dreamily as your senses took time to adjust. Your skin prickled at his touch as he brushed a hand lazily up your arm.

“I can be slow then,” he laughed. “But it might be too hard if you keep looking at me like that.”

“How should I look at you, hm?” you teased.

“Like you’re pretending you don't want to be turned around with your wrists pinned up against the wall,” he teased back.

He pressed into you, exploring how deep he could go before you started writhing against him. Your leg on his waist tightened, pulling him in and holding him firmly in place for a kiss. 

You knew he might take some convincing, but you were prepared to take all night to show Jonathan just how good things could be, after practicing a little patience.

[mydear-corinthian]

Rivals || Jonathan Crane x reader

Synopsis: You and Crane are both fighting for the asylum's new head of the psychologist department. Pairing: Jonathan Crane x reader / Jonathan Crane x psych! reader / Scarecrow x reader Warnings: SMUT +18, unprotected sex, p in v, rivalry Notes: RUSHED, there will be lots of grammatical errors. Click here to see the MAIN MASTERLIST Click here to see the CILLIAN MURPHY MASTERLIST

Today is the important day of your career. The head medical chief will now announce who will be the head of the psychology department.

You were working for nearly 5 years in Gotham's asylum, Arkham Asylum. You've seen many patients; juveniles, sadists, serial killers, and other more. It wasn't easy at first but slowly, you got the hang of it, being able to adjust the unusual environment of the hospital.

You had barely any interaction with anyone else when you were an intern except for Jonathan Crane. He was your age, a fellow psychologist committed to helping Arkham Asylum's needy patients. Your relationship with Crane developed with shared experiences and shared loyalty, creating a firm connection during the psychological obstacles of the asylum.

The pressure between you and Crane was intense and serious considering there were just the two of you. You will both keep track of the number of patients you see each day, the number of consultations and interviews you do, and of course, the journey toward becoming the department head of psychology.

Now, the both of you standing in front of the head chief resident, waiting for him to announce the result.

Even though you appeared calm and collected on the outside, there was a stream of anxiousness running through you. Jonathan Crane was just as calm as you were, but in opposite to you, he was so confident and at relaxed that there was no trace of nervousness.

"Doctor Crane, Doctor (Y/n), I want to say that the both of you did a wonderful job here as Arkham's psychology resident. I saw both of your performance since your first day and I can see the massive progress that you guys done for the past 5 years," the head chief resident said, lowering down the papers that contained both of your performances and records.

"Thank you, chief." a smile was plastered on your face as you thanked the chief resident.

"You both did an excellent job. I hereby congratulate our new chief..," the chief resident slowly announced, making your heart flutter, a wave of anxiety rushed over your spine.

"Doctor Jonathan Crane,"

Your eyes widened. You looked at your workmate, his eyes glowing as he shook the hands of the chief resident, thanking him.

You were left cashing by the shock that went through you like a voltage, and your hopes were buried in a deep sense of disappointment. A dream set back in the face of unexpected defeat, the pain of longing for this desired position, grown throughout your time at Arkham, suddenly seemed to resonate down the corridors of your mind.

Jealousy was starting to spin all over you as you shook Crane's delicate hand, muttering a 'congratulations'. You left the office after, giving the both of them privacy as they started a new conversation about Crane's new responsibilities and duties to the hospital.

Your gloomy walk echoed through the asylum's corridors. You immediately walked to your office and harshly opened and closed the door.

"What the fuck!" you yelled loudly in frustration Your palms curled up together like a ball. "What the fuck do you mean that Jonathan got the position and not me?" slapping your wooden table harshly as you threw a big tantrum.

"Fuck you, Jonathan!"

Good thing that your office was soundproof so all the staffs and patients passing by won't hear a single sound of you bursting into frustration.

Your tantrum stopped when you heard a knock on your office's door. Assuming it was the head chief resident, you fixed your hair and your outside, composing yourself.

You opened the door with a smile but it was gone after you see who it was-- Jonathan Crane.

"What are you doing here, Crane?" you spitted, your arms folding each other on your chest.

"May I come in?" he asked.

"Fine," you groaned in annoyance, opening the door widely so he can enter your lightly-dimmed office.

He scanned your office, looking at the picture frames on the hanged shelf, books that were neatly stored beside your frames, and your Ph.D and awards that hanged over the white walls of the office.

"Now, what do you want, Crane?" you asked again, sitting in front of the wooden table, both arms still locked in your chest together, your eyes piercing through his.

"I just want to congratulate you for having the chance to compete for the position," he teased, a small grin plastered on his soft cheeks.

"Oh fuck off, Jonathan. Yeah, I got it, you got the position," you rolled your eyes, getting angry and annoyed every time Crane breathes.

"Won't you congratulate me, (Y/n)?" he asked, moving closer and closer to you, until your faces were only centimetres apart.

"Fuck no! Just go and flex your position to somebody else because I don't care about you,"

Your response made him chuckle. He took a deep breath as he adjusted his clear eyeglasses. "Mhm, I don't think so. You care about me. You have feelings for me, don't you?"

Your eyes grew wide at what he said. Was he aware that you like him? He's your rival, and you were beginning to feel something for him. He's a perfect man - well for you. He's good looking, smart, and works with you but you kept it as a secret, ashamed that you're in love with someone you compete with. His words caused you blushing leaving you speechless.

"I - What? Funny, Jonathan. I don't even like yo-"

"Not according to your journal here," he cut you off, he took a small brown notebook out of the pocket of his blazer, showing it you.

Then you realized what it was: it's your missing journal book. You remembered leaving it at your desk a week ago but after that, it just suddenly disappeared like that. You kept on finding it, you searched everywhere, your apartment, your bag, your office, your cabinets: none.

"Where'd you get that! Give it back!" you gasped, attempting to grab it from his hand but he sways his arm back further away.

"God look at this. You were imagining stuffs like this huh? Lusty images and scenarios of me," he teased, opening the journal and scanned the pages.

"Fuck you, Jonathan," you cursed.

"If that's what you want," he said before he crashed his lips to yours. Tasting every spot in your lips. You gasped at the sudden action but it was true, you fantasized about this.

You returned the passionate kiss, wrapping your arms over his neck and then his now messy hair, pushing your lips deeper to him.

His tongue traveled deeper into your tempting mouth, the passionate kiss becoming more messier and messier. His hand held tightly to your delicate body, pulling you closer him. Your lips softly moaned, each one begging for the kiss to get even hotter and more intense. You could feel the heat building as you both gave in to the burning desire that was dominating over. 

Crane's lips started to trail down on your neck, kissing the sweet and sensitive spots all over, earning a loud moan from you.

"You know, I fantasized about this too," he confessed, sucking your sweet spot that will likely leave a mark. Your back arched, your cunt getting more and more wet. "It's just that I don't write about it."

"Oh god, Jonathan," you moaned. His hands found your tight long sleeve shirt, unbuttoning it one by one. Crane tossed your shirt on the floor, continuing kissing you.

"Look at you. So fucking sexy," he said, your breasts now exposed after he unhook your bra only using two of his fingers.

Crane's trousers stretched out revealing his bulge and how he was hard already. In not much time at all, you unfastened his belt and took off his underwear, causing his hard cock to spring out, pre-cum leaking all over it.

"See what you did to me?"

"I need you, Jonathan," you begged, showing how wet you were when you removed your trousers. Your black panties were now stained with wetness.

He removed your panties with his soft hands before aligning his cock into your hole. "So wet for me, huh?" his tip teasing your wet and impatient hole as you moaned softly.

"Please.." you begged, getting more and more impatient.

He slowly entered you, earning a low grunt from him. Stretching your small hole as you took him.

"You're so tight, fuck," he cursed, starting his pace slow. His cock pushing in and out of your needy cunt, letting you a loud moan.

"Is this what you imagine me doing to you? Fucking you? Taking my cock?" he asked, his hands gripped your hips harshly as his pace fastened. A small dash of sweat was starting to form on his forehead as he grunt out loud from the sensation.

"Yes - oh god, Jonathan!" moaning, your eyes shut as you rolled your head back, taking him deeper and deeper. Allowing him to penetrate all the sensitive spots down there.

All you experienced was nothing but pleasure. You felt a rush feeling of thrill wash over you, seeing only sparkles. A huge mess was made as your skin flapped loudly, the table moved around, and some of your materials items fell off the table.

"Look at me while I'm fucking you, sweetheart." Crane hissed, harshly gripping your jaw to make you look at him.

His pace was immeasurable. The sound of his and your skin slapping together echoed inside the room as you let out a series of pornographic moans.

"Good thing your office is soundproofed," he laughed. "You don't want them to hear you moan while I fuck you, huh?"

Crane's right hand gripped your thighs, giving him support as he fucked you harshly.

In a short while, you felt your orgasm starting to form. Your legs trembling as you locked his back with it, allowing him to penetrate deeper at your sensitive spots.

His icy-like eyes met yours, mesmerizing him. His eyes. His mouth. His jaw line. Everything, admiring him.

"Jo - Jonathan, I'm close.." you breath shaking, feeling your orgasm coming near and nearer.

"Yeah? Come then, cum on my cock, love," his pace remained fast. His grunts were getting louder and louder.

After a few more thrusts, your orgasm came and so did his, staining the inside of walls with his seed as he came inside. The both of you continuously let out a few grunts and moans while reaching your high.

He didn't pulled out until every drop of his cum pours inside of you. The both of you pant hard, your cunt clenching on his hard cock.

"I like you, Jonathan," you confessed.

"Oh sweetheart, you belong to me," he said, pulling out slowly before he kissed you again but this time he did it passionately.

"I'm still mad at you for getting my desired position," you admitted, glaring at his sweet features as he chuckled with your response.

"Well, I can request the chief to make 2 psychologist the heads of our department," he remarked. "But before that, let me.. enjoy what belongs to me."

[saintmuses]

❝𝙣𝙤 𝙖𝙢𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙤𝙢 𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙣❞

Pairing:

Judge!Jonathan Crane x Arkham Fugitive!Reader

Summary:

It had been several years since Gotham as society obliterated into pieces. Several years since Jonathan had seen his favorite Arkham patient escape from the asylum with a promise on her lips.  

Warning(s): SMUT. P in V. Mentions of violence. Implied attempted assault (not from Crane). Brief description of threat. Minors, dni! Note: I realized that I haven’t been giving Jonathan especially Judge!Crane some love lately! That being said, it’s sorta set in the final installment of The Dark Knight Trilogy with allusions of Batman Begins scenes.

Word Count: 1.7k

The city of Gotham’s corruption was never ending; endless explosions, crimes and more deaths continued.

It had been two years since he had last seen Y/N. Echoes of her boots surrounded him as she sprinted away from him and the rubbles that was the Arkham Asylum; never looking back after whispering to him while he was bounded in an unoccupied cell that she was going to kill him was still fresh in his mind ever since.

She was indicted for bashing a stranger’s head with a brick after he tried to take her in the alley. When he saw her in the courtroom, he was simply enthralled by how she was stoic and yet her eyes were filled with fire. He then knew he had to admit her into the asylum so he could be closer to her, and his words held power in swaying the judge to prompt the sentencing.

That was why she was his favorite subject; he could tell she despised him by the way she refused to look at him. The tone of her voice was hard and colder than ice, and he reveled in the feeling. Of course, she would indulge him in sessions, out of fear he would use fear toxin on her. It was their deal, if she talked then he wouldn’t have to take his scarecrow burlap mask filled with his experiment out of his metal storage briefcase.

His feelings for her, whatever he could classify as much as he could since he despised emotions that connected to romantic sense, had developed during his tenure as her psychiatrist that he was angry when she escaped after Batman showed up, destroying the restoration of future order of Gotham with his creation. 

"Let go of me you son of a bitch!" 

His eyes widened at the familiar sound of a woman seething, and he had to settle for a stoic expression before turning around just in time to see two of his henchmen with their hands wrapped around the woman's body dragging her down the hallway.

She cursed out loud when they dropped her aggressively, still folding onto her upper body, and her hair swayed wildly as she jerked her legs and bounded wrists.

He could see that his henchmen had to use ropes to put her in binds, which indicated she tried to attack them, and was unsuccessful with her mission.

Of course, she still had the fire in her. He thought wryly.

"Gentlemen, what is the meaning of this?" He inquired, taking a step forward which made Y/N stop thrashing in their grips.

Eyeing her stilled form, he smirked at her when her eyes widened as she looked up at him.

"Leave her," he ordered, glaring at two young men until they released her arms allowing her to kneel on the floor.

Waiting until he heard the sound of a click to indicate his henchmen left the room, and he turned his head to look back at her when the sounds of footsteps faded away.

He took a step toward her, crouching before her as she eyed him warily. He then reached out with his fingers to her face, relishing in the feeling of her skin; he trailed his fingers over her cheeks and up her jaw where he pinched her earlobe between index and thumb. He gave it a little tug, experimental, though sharp enough to incite a sting. "I didn't expect to see you," he paused, a smirk grew on his lips. "Thought you were smarter than to get caught."

Before she could fight against him vehemently, he clasped her arms, dragging her up along with him as he straightened his form, and he marched across the room until he reached for the door that led to the sitting room.

He pushed her aside before slamming the door and pushed the lock button to ensure no one would come in especially the rogues. 

"What the hell are you doing?" He heard her speaking up from behind him before he turned towards her.

He didn't answer her, although he did stare at her for a few moments before reaching for her arm and pushed her along until he reached another door that led to the room where his office resided.

Once they crossed the threshold, he pushed her against the wall after he activated the lock for his office.

Her eyes widened when he brought his face close to her, he reached between them to unfasten the rope around her wrists before he brought one hand around her waist to push her body against his after dropping the rope to the side.

She was embarrassed to hear a slight mewling sound escape her own lips as the arm that had been around her waist slid up; he let her slide a few inches down the wall before his hand entangled itself in her hair. 

Tugging her hair firmly, Jonathan pulled her head back so that her mouth fell open and her throat was exposed. He leant forward and ran his nose up the side of her neck and her chin, nuzzling her ear.

"You're going to lay on the desk, and I'm going to do what I should've done before you escaped from me." He muttered; a command etched in his tone.

She nodded; her eyes wide. His authoritarian tone was such a turn on, she didn't think she would have been turned on by the authority in his voice since she had never liked his tone during their sessions before she had escaped, but that was not the case.

He lifted her arms once again, carrying her across the room until he placed her onto his desk unceremoniously.

He leaned back to unbutton her pants before pushing them down from her legs. Once it hit the floor, she lifted her legs to spread before him, only panting in her underwear and t-shirt in the room.

He then reached under her shirt, ghosting his fingers across her skin as he slid his hands towards her breasts. 

She gasped into his mouth as he palmed her breasts, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples that were becoming erect before drawing his hands back to remove his ragged blazer that seemed to confine him.

He was thankful that he had requested a large ornate desk as he propped himself on top of the furniture, leaning over her. Sweat began to dampen his skin as well as hers. Chest touched chest as he planted a hot kiss to her jaw, then her chin as he trailed his lips across her face. She squirmed as he dipped two fingers into her cunt and withdrew only to bring them to her lips where he traced her mouth leaving a slick trail behind.

He pushed her underwear aside, away from her slit, before reaching with his other hand to unbutton his pants, unzipping it, and his cock sprung free. Before she could reach for it with her hand, she squeezed her eyes shut when his cock filled her up with a single hard thrust, leaning with his forehead against hers as he savored the feeling of her walls milking his cock. 

He withdrew his hips slightly before slamming back into her, relishing in the feeling over again.

The way she breathed against his face, the tiny whimpers leaving her mouth, the way she adjusted her hips to allow him better access, the way she reacted to every thrust, every push and pull, it hurt him inside in a most magnificent manner.

"Fuck," he rasped as he pulled out again. He hovered for a moment, with just the head inside her, and she felt empty. He gripped her hips and slammed inside of her, causing her to cry out and arched her back off the desk.

Her hands pulled him closer, gripping his back with her nails. Her legs still wrapped around him; she pushed her heels into his ass. He fell on top of her, holding himself up by his forearms and leaning his head down into the crook of her neck. She could feel him planting sloppy kisses on her neck and shoulder. He curled his lips and reached for the curve of her neck to dig his teeth into her skin, and she gasped as the sensation went right to her clit, pushing her higher which made her throw her head back.

He pounded into her brutally in abandon, riding her orgasm as she continued to recite his name like she was spellbound. 

He spontaneously wrapped an arm around her waist and reared back upright on his knees, holding her against him and thrusting up harshly. He gave several more thrusts before groaning hoarsely, chasing his own release. Her head fell forward on his shoulder, and she moaned softly at the feel of him filling her.

He slowly descended them back to the desk, caressing her abdomen softly, and panting in her ear, still buried deep inside her. He kissed her temple, her cheek, then urged her to meet him in a lazy kiss, which she complied in daze. Her lips were swollen and torn from his previous kisses and her own teeth as she had bit them down harshly as he fucked her.

Withdrawing from her, wincing slightly at the sensitivity as his cock slipped out of her cunt. His tongue swiped the bottom of his lip as he spotted his cum trickling out of her hole.

Fuck.

He inhaled deeply as he eased himself off the desk before placing himself on the leather chair before tucking his softened cock back in his dress pants.

Bringing his gaze to the ceiling of his office, he traced on the skin of her calf absentmindedly, only to snap his eyes to her face when he heard a sharp noise.

She held a knife, fingers wrapped around the finely detailed handle as she angled it towards his jaw where it was sparsely with light hair sprinkled across his skin.

"What are you doing?" he asked, unamused as he gripped the back of her neck.

Her eyes flickered to his nonchalantly before moving them to the metal before her.

Tracing the grooves of the weapon, she lightly wetted her lips before closing the inches between them, only to pause when her lips barely brushed his.

"Fulfilling my promise, Doctor Crane."

[finniestoncrane]

2.5k Event Request - Arkham!Scarecrow x Fem!Reader word count: 715 a/n: what is the point of having a big soft open maw if you can't clamp that thing down on a hole and start sucking like your life depended on it? cw: oral sex, so much pussy eating like it's literally just that, possessive/needy behaviour 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie2.5k (to follow or to block)

Jonathan's breath was warm against your skin, heating your inner thighs where his cold, clammy hands had once been pressed, fingers digging into the ample flesh before he pushed your legs open, spreading them apart. He pulled back the hood of his jacket, freeing him to bury his face between your chubby thighs, to feel your warm, skin against his cheeks, to be as close to you as possible.

And then he moaned. Inhaling your scent, the vibrations of the sound leaving his throat seeming to travel through the air, breath tickling you, heart thudding as you waited patiently.

His tongue pressed out over his ragged lips, pushing past the strands of thread that held his skin together. Pointed and firm, he parted your folds with the muscle, long laps following as he teased your cunt, coating it in his saliva as he drooled almost uncontrollably. Taste buds triggered, senses heightened as he took you in.

Once he was satisfied that every bit of you had been licked once over, he pointed his tongue once more, flitting from side to side over the folds that lined your entrance, prodding inside of you. With his tongue buried deep, he sucked and moaned, catching the taste of you all the way at the back of his throat.

Pleasures of the flesh were almost unknown to him before meeting you. His body only brought pain, reminded him of the cruelty of others. Yours was sweet and soft, giving him a reason to worship, to enjoy. It gave his own body a purpose other than suffering or violence.

Noting that those thoughts were lingering, he pulled back to share them with you.

"You taste sweet, divine. Like a direct hit to the adrenal glands."

It felt romantic enough, more of a confession than he intended it to be. And yet, there was so much more he wanted to say. Like how he loved smearing your slick over his mouth, having you drip down his chin. How your delicious cunt felt like a source of power to him, a Lazarus pit in it's own right with the way it seemed to breathe life into him.

And how you always felt like you were his. Only his.

Spreading his fingers apart into a 'v', he placed them against you, holding your folds apart and leaning in before he stopped, looking up at you with his clouded, milky eyes.

"This belongs to me, yes?"

"Yes."

"Who does it belong to?"

"You, Jonathan."

"Mine. All mine. Something that can't be taken."

Diving back in, he clamped his lips around your plump mound, tongue angled so he could swirl it around your clit, teasing the sensitive bud with his chipped teeth. Resting his forehead on your abdomen, he sank what was left of the damaged bridge of his nose into the soft, cushiony fat as he pushed his face further into you. He shifted it from side to side, rubbing into you, covering himself in your slick, your scent.

His hands reached up to grab at your stomach, fingers digging into you as he held you tight. The ragged, blackened nails created little, uneven semi-circles in your skin, holding you, jiggling you as he kneaded the flesh like a cat trying to find comfort in a lap. His hold on you was so needy, so demanding, so possessive, like he was attempting to keep you there. As though he thought you would ever think of going anywhere, of being anywhere but right there.

With his lips suctioned around yours, he collected your folds into his mouth, sucking hard and long, letting them go with a lewd, loud smacking sound before collecting them again, the action punctuated by his repetition. A sermon, a testament to his own needs and demands.

"Mine... mine... mine..."

The only other sounds, apart from your own pleasured moans, were his whimpers, his gasps, the groans of satisfaction, akin to someone finishing a gourmet meal, full of delight.

With his fingers soaked in your juices, he ran them along your thighs, skin glistening as he wet it, his face still buried intently between your legs with no sign of him stopping. Ragged breaths, shuddering groans, told you that despite running low on energy, Jonathan was far from ready to give you up.

[caesariawritesstuff]

Be Quiet

Summary: As Jonathan Crane's therapist, you're required to have weekly sessions with him. Good thing for you that those sessions involve more than talking.

Content Warning: Therapy Sessions, P in V Sex, NSFW

Word Count: 2.2k

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ● Read on Ao3 ● Masterlist ●

You walked the halls of Arkham, a clipboard tucked tightly to your chest. Your heart hammered furiously against your ribcage, and you bit your lip. Anxiety twisted in your belly, a desperate ache pulsed in between your legs. The Arkham guard escorting you was completely clueless to the utter desire coursing through your veins. You snuck a quick glance, studying him head to toe: he was dressed in the traditional black and blue uniform of all the Arkham security staff; his expression was stoic, and one hand wrested at his side, near his taser.

You frowned; Here you were, dressed in a short skirt and blouse, a long, white doctors coat hanging down to your knees. As a therapist in Arkham, you never thought you’d be in the position you were in now: falling in love with your patient, Jonathan Crane.

God, just the thought both filled you with arousal and shame. Who did you think you were? Harley Quinn? And everyone knew what happened to her. Her fall from grace as she became the Joker’s sidekick and lover. At first, you’d judged her. Didn’t understand how she could fall for such a maniac. At least, not until you began your sessions with Jonathon almost three months ago.

And in those three months, you’d come to learn just exactly how a therapist in Arkham could fall in love with their patient. At first, your sessions with Jonathan had been less than productive. He danced around the idea of fear, spouting his theories and philosophies on the very basis that people did what they did because they were driven by fear. And you were desperate to prove him wrong. To show that he was incorrect. That people didn’t always do things out of fear, and for other reasons entirely – money, lust, power. Fear wasn’t a motivator for everyone.

And yet, he always had a counter.

“You crave money because you fear what it’d be like to live without,” he’d said. “You crave sex because you fear a life without intimacy. You want power because you fear losing control of your life and the people in it.”

Each time, his conversations had not only left you speechless, but wondering what you could do to get through to him. And slowly, over time, you began to fall in love with Jonathan Crane.

You’re not even sure how it happened, exactly. Not sure how, as he slowly opened up about more of his theories, he had come to ensnare you under his spell. But he had, and now here you were: heading into another therapy session with him, one that wouldn’t actually consist of much therapy at all. You sucked in a breath as you reached the room, where Jonathan awaited. The guard unlocked and opened the door, staring at you with stern, serious eyes.

“Thank you. You may go now,” you said. Your cue that he didn’t need to stand there and listen in. The guards knew your rule by now: their presence was unwanted and unnecessary, and only served to upset the patients. But, he nodded and waited until you were securely inside before he closed the door behind you.

It shut with a heavy bang, and you slowly turned your attention to Jonathan, sitting there at the desk. Wrapped in a straitjacket, his cold, steely eyes studying you. His mask-like face was unreadable and unrelenting. You were never sure what he was thinking. The room was cold, sending a chill across your flesh. You waited until you heard the guards’ footsteps drift down the hall and out of ear shot. When you were certain he was gone, you didn’t hesitate to walk around Jonathan and begin undoing his straight jacket. It was custom now, between the two of you. And he hated having his limbs confined and restrained. When it was off enough for him to slip his arms through, he flexed his fingers and rolled his neck.

“Better?” you asked, your heart thundering in your chest.

“Much,” he answered, his voice cold. Emotionless.

You wandered back to his front. The straitjacket hung off just enough at his waist that in case you needed to quickly secure it, you had easy access. But your hands were trembling, and you clenched your fists at your sides, trying not to show your fear. Heat crept across your cheeks, and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

He noticed, his eyes dropping to your fists. “Trembling already. You’re not afraid, are you?”

“No,” you answered quickly. Perhaps too quick. Like a child pretending they were confident in their own emotions.

He studied you, his eyes examining every inch of you. Today, you’d chosen an especially short skirt and more revealing blouse that exposed even more of your cleavage. Your intentions were fully on display: what you wanted. What you wanted him to do to you. Jonathan Crane was not a stupid man, and the very subtle hint of a smirk appeared on his mask-like face. He rested one hand on your waist, and the other snaked up to grab your chin. You gasped as he pulled you on top of him so quickly that you had no choice but to straddle him. You rested both hands on his shoulders, locking eyes with him.

“I can practically smell your fear,” he whispered lowly, bringing your mouth to his. He kissed you gentle – but his lips were rough. Patchy. You didn’t care. The feel of his tongue on yours made you relax into him; you pressed your body further into his. His hand tightened on your waist and his other hand fisted at the back of your lab coat, before tangling in your hair.

You kissed him harder, fiercer. Desperate to taste him. Wetness pooled in between your legs, and you moaned into the kiss. You grinded your hips into his, feeling the erection confined in his white, prison suit. You reached up, tangling your hands into his dark hair, tugging slightly on the strands. Massaging his scalp. He groaned and pulled away, staring at you.

“On your knees,” he said. One simple command. He didn’t need to elaborate.

Your entire body was on fire as you crawled off him and lowered to your knees. Your heart beat so hard you could hear it thrumming in your ears. Slowly, you helped his cock free of its constraints. Swollen hard, precum leaking from the tip. The head bright red with blood and desire. You glanced up at him once; he still gazed at you expressionless, but his eyes were full of need and want.

You smiled and leaned forward, darting your tongue out to lick at the tip. His breath suddenly hitched, his cock twitching in your palm. You smirked, satisfied and absolutely turned on you. Slowly, you continued the slow, teasing movements of your tongue. Up and down his shaft, swirling around his cockhead. Above, his breathing grew quicker, in a way you hadn’t heard from him before. But, you leaned forward and took him fully into your mouth. He tasted of sweat and salt and skin as you leaned forward, taking him even further. A low, guttural groan escaped his throat, and he twisted his fingers into your hair. You rose up, then back down, repeating the bobbing motion with your head. You sucked harder, feeling a wetness in between your own legs. You wrapped your fingers around his shaft and pumped slowly in tandem with your sucking.

“Stop,” he said, his voice curt. Quick. A command.

You immediately did as he said, pulling him from your mouth. By the tone of his voice, you had a feeling he was close. But you smirked and licked your lips. He brushed a lock of hair behind your ear, his expression just as emotionless as before.

“So obedient,” he said. His fingertips lowered from your temple down to your cheek, slowly stroking your skin. “Turn around.”

You nodded and stood, doing as he said and spinning on your heels. His chair scraped backwards as he stood; carefully, he grabbed your shoulders and lowered you down onto the metal desk. You grasped it carefully, heart hammering against your ribcage. Slowly, his hands wandered downwards, until they reached your ass; he caressed your skin softly, before they wandered further downwards – further, further – until his fingers brushed against your slick, warm wetness. You whined slightly, biting your lip, anticipation building in your stomach.

Then, he pushed your panties aside and sunk two fingers into you, and you groaned as he pumped them in and out, slowly. Carefully, as if studying every reaction you gave. The soft moans that escaped your lips as his fingers filled you and pumped in and out, a vulgar wetness filling the room. You rested your head against the table and closed your eyes, drowning in the feeling.

Suddenly, he removed his fingers, and you whined at the absence – but before you could protest further, he sunk his cock into you. You gasped at the intrusion; the feel of him against you was like heaven. He filled you completely, stretching out your walls. You moaned as his hands placed themselves on your waist, nails digging into your flesh, and he began to thrust.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath. His hips slammed into you, his balls slapping against your ass. You gripped the edge of the table until your knuckles turned white. Soft mewls of pleasure escaped your lips. You gasped with each thrust, your voice growing louder, lewder.

Suddenly, his hand snapped forward. He leaned forward, his powerful body overtaking yours. His hand snaked forward, and he wrapped his fingers around your throat, forcing your face upwards.

“Be quiet,” he hissed into your ear. His rough skin was scratchy against yours. His tongue snaked out, licking at your earlobe and you gasped again, trembling against him. “Ssh…you don’t want them to hear us, do you?”

No, God, no. You were already balancing on a dangerous line. Your job was already at stake. Being caught with Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, fucking you would absolutely destroy your career. You shook your head in answer.

“Good girl,” he whispered. But he didn’t release your throat. Instead, his lips traveled down your jaw, across your flesh, teeth nipping at your flesh. His thrusts increased harder, faster, quicker. His cockhead rammed right into your sweet spot, and you gritted your teeth, trying hard not to cry out in ecstasy.

You closed your eyes as the ultimate pleasure built in your core. In the center of your womanhood, building higher and higher until you were seeing stars. You bit your lip, and slowly reached downwards, rubbing your clit. The heightened sensation was just enough to send you over the edge and a loud gasp escaped your mouth as you came. Your climax wracked through your entire body, spasming every muscle, every part of yourself. You moaned and writhed as Jonathn snapped his hips once more and groaned, spilling himself inside of you. His cock twitched and pulsed, as you felt his seed fill your insides.

For a moment, there was nothing but your heavy breathing in the room. He released his grip on your throat and you fell onto the desk, exhausted, clit still aching with pleasure. He pulled out of you, and his cum dripped down your thighs. You swallowed, trying to gain your composure, and spun back around to see him tucking his cock back into his pants. Your own panties were soaked wet; you were glad you’d stuffed an extra pair into your purse just in case.

You ran a hand through your hair and glanced at the clock. Shit – time was almost up for your session. You had about ten minutes until it was over, and you needed to make yourself look presentable.

“That was…” you couldn’t even say the words. When was the last time you’d had sex so good?

A low chuckle rumbled from deep within his throat, but, he sat back onto his seat. You wandered behind him and began strapping him back into his straitjacket. “Sorry I have to do this,” you whispered, voice low. When he was securely fastened in, you walked back to his front.

“Jonathon—” you started to say, but stopped. How could you tell him how you were feeling?

He studied you carefully. “Speak. Whatever you fear, you can tell me.”

“It’s not what I fear,” you said. “It’s what I don’t. Because I don’t fear you. I love you, Jonathon.”

If he was surprised by your declaration, you couldn’t tell. Not with his mask-like face. But he looked you up and down and said, “My dear. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

You smiled, heart thundering in your chest. You were desperate to kiss him. Desperate to throw yourself on him, take his face in your hands—

But suddenly, footsteps echoed down the hall. You hurried back into your seat and flipped open the file in front of you, pretending you’d been taking notes. By the time you were settled, the door swung open.

“Time’s up, doctor,” the guard said.

“Very well,” you sighed. You didn’t need to feign your irritation. But, you gathered your things and tucked them under your arm. “I’ll see you next week, Jonathon.”

He nodded, and you followed the guard out into the hall, a giant smile plastered on your face.

You couldn’t wait until next week.

[jcilyxx]

Since your post about The Scarecrow being the main antagonist in a Batman movie was so brilliant I wanted to take my time with my response! 😊 In my personal opinion a Batman movie with The Scarecrow in it would be great if it was both about Bruce and Jonathan not just Bruce. I've heard many other Scarecrow fans often complain how poor Jonathan is sidelined, and used as a mere plot device in most cases. Thus his character has never been truly represented except for a few rare occasions in the comics. I have to say though their relationship was nicely established in Kings Of Fear. The movie should be split 50/50 between Bruce and Jonathan if that makes sense. They should utilize Jonathan's New Earth origin not his Prime Earth origin. Show him growing up in poverty in small town Georgia. A ideal way of showing Jonathan's character would be flashbacks of his childhhood plus life as a Psychologist/Psychiatrist and Professor. Kind of like his Year One comics. Flesh out his character more showing what motivates him like his desire for power and taking control of his life. His addiction to fear is a desperate attempt to overcome his own fears/insecurities. That's both the horrific and tragic part about Jonathan. His addiction started ever sense he felt power after causing Bo Griggs and Sherry Squires's car accident, and most likely after killing Mary. It's as though watching fear in other people induces a state of euphoria for him. One of the similarities between Bruce and Jonathan they don't touch on much is how they both suffer from Atychiphobia (fear of failure), and being seen as weak or inadequate. Bruce's own fear of failure is shown multiple times in BTAS episode Nothing to Fear, Arkham Asylum, and Kings Of Fear, etc. Their identities, Batman and The Scarecrow, are physical manifestations of their psychological states due to severe trauma. They both use their identities to instil fear as well. I think Jonathan's battle with Batman is a dark reflection of his own inner turmoil and struggles. Jonathan believes if he defeats Batman he can at last conquer his demons. Hence the reason why Jonathan hallucinates "Batman" when he's exposed to his own fear toxin every time Batman defeats him.

Though fear toxin is a formidable weapon it shouldn't be Jonathan's main weapon. Jonathan's true weapon is his genius intellect and psychological manipulation. A great comparison is Dr. Hannibal Lecter who's also a master Psychologist/Psychiatrist. Out of all of Batman's Rogues Gallery Jonathan is the most intriguing for sure, because of how unique he is from the rest. There's a video I highly recommend watching titled Why The Scarecrow should be Batman's Arch Nemesis. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=9vdyQumKjsc&pp=ygUTbXIgcm9ndWVzIHNjYXJlY3Jvdw%3D%3D The Youtube channel in general, Mr. Rogues, is great! The main guy, plus a few other people, even created their own Arkham Patient sessions. https://m.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbs0iJWwehs9a2HqqPu4ijxjneb3bmcY8 I personally enjoy his version of Dr. Jonathan Crane a ton. ❤️

Your depiction perfectly captures my vision!

I'd absolutely love to see his backstory developed further. Unlike most other villains, Crane's past hasn't been thoroughly explored, except briefly in Year One. Flashbacks to his upbringing would be a fantastic way to illustrate the bitterness and resentment that has likely been simmering within him. Including key moments from his childhood, such as his experiences with bullying and his early fascination with fear, would add depth to his character. Additionally, exploring his academic journey and the pivotal events that transformed him into the Scarecrow would provide a richer understanding of his motivations and the darkness that drives him.

Moreover, his fear toxin shouldn’t be his main weapon. While it is a significant aspect of his character, relying too heavily on it can overshadow the psychological and manipulative brilliance that truly defines him. Showcasing his strategic mind, his ability to exploit people's deepest fears without the toxin, and his mastery of psychological terror would create a more nuanced and formidable villain.

Crane should be the main antagonist of a movie because his unique brand of psychological horror sets him apart from other villains. His ability to instill fear and manipulate his victims' minds offers a fresh and thrilling dynamic for a storyline. His complex character, driven by a tragic and tormented past, provides ample material for an engaging narrative. By focusing on Crane, the movie can delve into deeper themes of fear, trauma, and the human psyche, offering viewers a more cerebral and emotionally gripping experience.

Additionally, Crane's methods can lead to visually stunning and haunting scenes. The hallucinatory effects of his fear toxin (if were to be used), combined with his eerie Scarecrow persona, create opportunities for striking cinematography and memorable, terrifying sequences. His psychological manipulation can also drive intense, character-driven drama, pushing Batman to confront his own fears and vulnerabilities.

Crane's presence as a villain would also allow for exploration of contemporary issues such as mental health, the impact of fear on society, and the consequences of trauma. These themes resonate with modern audiences, making the story not only entertaining but also thought-provoking.

Interestingly, Jonathan Crane and Batman share several similarities that makes their conflict even more compelling. Both are products of traumatic childhoods, with Crane experiencing bullying and isolation, while Bruce Wayne witnessed his parents' murder. This shared experience of early trauma drives their obsessions—Crane's with fear and Batman's with justice. Both characters are also highly intelligent and use their knowledge to achieve their goals; Crane through his expertise in psychology and fear, and Batman through his detective skills and technological prowess. Additionally, both operate in the shadows, using fear as a tool—Crane to terrorize, and Batman to combat crime. This parallel between them, which I think was excellently shown in Kings of Fear (which you mentioned), highlights their complex relationship and the thin line between heroism and villainy.

Anyways sorry if this is long—I just have so many ideas for this, and the way you described it so perfectly really sparked even more interest in me! 🫶🏻❤️

[rydr--system]

verse || arkham in patient

Jack Ryder, after returning from South America, has forgotten the presence of The Creeper due to the trauma of digging himself out of a mass grave. He has visions of a yellow-skinned maniac pointing to his wrist, and has has several episodes of fight or flight because of it. He's checked himself into an in-patient program at Arkham, where he's being treated by Dr. Skolos. Skolos is a hypnotherapist, and secretly one of Jack's most personal enemies.

Just below the surface, the Creeper waits to surface again and escape Arkham.

[paradiseprincesss]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝑻𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒅𝒐 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Jonathan Crane

NOTES -> Hi I'm back! Sorry for being so inactive. I’m trying to write whenever i have like a min to breathe from uni...anyways i wanted to write something that feels like fall? Does that make sense? Probably not LOL

SUMMARY -> The best thing to do to pass time in a power outage is sex, obviously.

WORD COUNT -> 1.3k

WARNINGS -> Smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f!receiving), super soft lover boy jonathan, fluff

MASTERLIST

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Oh.”

Your voice cut through the silence in Jonathan and yours’ shared, cozy bedroom as the previously dimly lit room was now consumed in total darkness. “I don’t like this,” you said to your boyfriend who was beside you in bed as you tossed your book down, “I was trying to read.” 

A tornado warning for Gotham was issued earlier, but they said that’s all it was — just a warning. However, the turbulent wind clearly had some effect on your home, as the power was now out. Like you said to Jonathan; you were just trying to read, but it seemed like Mother Nature had other plans. 

Plus, you weren’t a big fan of the dark. Couldn’t the power have gone off at any other time besides nearly midnight? 

“You’re funny, you know that?” Jonathan said with a chuckle, and if you could’ve seen him right now, you knew you’d see him smiling. You heard some shuffling as Jonathan reached over, presumably to grab his phone, and turning on the flashlight. “Stay here, I’m going to grab some candles to light.” 

“I’m scared,” you whined. “I hate the dark.”

“You’ll live,” he teased, getting up before leaving the room for a few minutes until he returned, candles in hand. “Good thing you insisted we go to Target and get all these candles for fall.” 

For someone as malicious and unhinged as he was, his tough exterior would crack (more like completely shatter) when he was around you. Since Jonathan is constantly consumed by his work, he likes to spend time with you as much as he can when he isn’t at Arkham (and poisoning Gotham) working late. So, that means if you want to get Starbucks and go shopping for fall candles at Target — he’s there. 

No questions asked.

Sure, he may have been a corrupt psychiatrist as well as a hardened criminal and one of Gotham’s many rogues, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to do domestic things with his girlfriend. On Saturday nights, he would be working till the early hours of the morning with his patients and his toxin — only to spend the following Sunday wrapped up in bed with you watching silly Netflix shows.

The best of both worlds is how Jonathan would put it. 

“You always say I have too many,” you huffed, to which he laughed softly, lighting the 3-wick candles.

“That’s because you have like, what, fifty? Our entire house smells like maple pecan waffles all the time, twenty-four-seven — but you get so excited over them. It’s cute. I love watching you get all excited over this kind of stuff.” 

You blushed at his words, looking over at his handsome face, now illuminated by the dim light of multiple lit candles placed throughout your bedroom. “Shut up,” you mumble, watching him get back into bed with you. “Just come here and love me.”

He looked at you with those heart-stopping blue eyes of his, pulling you in for a soft kiss. Instinctively, you wrapped your around his shoulders, deepening the kiss. “I’ve missed you,” he said between kisses, dragging them down your neck and nipping gently at the delicate skin. “Hate when work keeps me away from you, my dear.”

“I know,” you said quietly, eyes fluttering shut from the feeling of his lips against your skin. “I hate it, too. I…” You felt yourself losing your train of thought as his hands roamed your body, settling on your waist as you two lay cozied up in the bed. 

“Let me show you how much I’ve missed you, my darling,” he whispered, squeezing your waist gently as you rested your head comfortably against the pillows, lying back. “All I could think about at work was you. All alone at home…waitin’ for me.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He left a trail of kisses all down your body, slowly building up to where you wanted him to go. Luckily for Jonathan, tonight — even amid a tornado warning — you decided to wear your favourite lace slip to bed with nothing underneath, making it all the more easy for him to access every part of you. 

Within minutes, he had you slipping out of your lace as you tossed the delicate garment somewhere onto the bedroom floor with only one thing on your mind right now. The rather intimate and romantic lighting from the collection of candles dimly lighting up the room wasn’t helping your case either. 

Jonathan’s intoxicating touch brought you back to reality, and you weren’t sure how it happened (not that you care how it came to be), but his hands were gently resting on your thighs as he lay between your legs, his crystalline blue eyes filled with hunger. 

At this very moment, you sent a silent thank you to Mother Nature for causing this to happen during ovulation week because yes, you were so horny that your glistening cunt was dripping onto the bedsheets underneath you and he hadn’t even touched you there yet. All you knew was that you needed to be touched, to be fucked, to be loved right now and thank god Jonathan was here to satisfy that primal need in you. 

“Please, Jon — we haven’t had sex in like two days,” you whined, causing him to let out a breathless laugh as he smiled sweetly at you. He may have found it funny that you were this desperate (after only 48 hours…) but you didn’t find a thing about this situation humorous. With your hormones clouding your judgment, you started to beg your loving boyfriend. “Come on Jonathan, I–”

Before you could muster up any more whines and pleas, he licked a fat stripe up your already soaking cunt, swiping his tongue through your folds as you arched your back and let out a guttural moan.

“O-oh—“ 

He lapped up your cunt skillfully as his hands kept a firm grip on your thighs, making sure that he was eating you out until you couldn’t take it anymore. “Delicious,” he mumbled against your cunt, continuing to lick, nip, and eat your pussy out as if it was the last thing he’d ever get to do in this lifetime. 

Mere minutes in and you were already arching your back, breathlessly saying his name over and over again — he could never get tired of hearing you like this. The way you’d feverishly moan “Oh, Jonathan,” and occasionally if you were exceptionally into it, you’d sometimes call him “baby,” and that always wound him up. Jonathan could spend ages with his face buried between your thighs, but it seemed that you were already close to coming pretty quickly. 

“Yes! Please–” you frantically moaned, feeling the waves of your release starting to wash over you with his tongue deep inside your soaking hole, lapping up all your juices. “Jon, baby, I’m gonna…”

Jonathan continued to eat you out as if he were a starved man through your orgasm, letting you ride it out and rut against his face until you were pushing his head away softly from the slight overstimulation. After getting up from between your legs, he wiped your arousal off of his chin, looking at you as if you were the answer to his every prayer. 

“God, you’re like a dream,” he said softly, causing your cheeks to heat up. 

Before any more romantic words could roll off the tip of his tongue, you were helping him out of his black pyjama shirt and his checkered pyjama pants (and yes, you found his love of checkered pyjama pants adorable). As soon as you tugged his pyjama pants down, his cock sprung out, slapping his stomach lightly.

“Fuck, look how hard you get me, darling,” he praised, stroking himself a few times before lining himself up with your drooling hole. He smirked as he teased the tip of his cock against your folds, watching you make a mess of the sheets underneath you just from how wet you were alone once again. “Looks like you’ve been missing me too, hm darling?” 

“So bad,” you agreed with a whimper, which turned straight into a moan as he started to push the head of his cock in. He let you get adjusted to him as you slowly took him inch by inch until you were full with his thick cock, walls stretching to accommodate his size.

“F-fuck, so f..full,” you choked out as he started to move slowly, warm hands coming to hold your hips as he gently started fucking you in the candlelight. 

“But you take it so well, darling,” he cooed softly, fucking you with a bit more force now. “Such a good girl, fuck. Look at you, taking my cock so deep.” 

“Mmm,” you mindlessly babbled, his fat cock causing you to lose all inhibitions as he (literally) fucked you stupid. “Oh, b-big–” 

As you squeaked out whatever words you could form, he let out a low groan himself, starting to really pound your warm, tight hole. You could feel his tip brushing up against that spongy spot inside of you, which in return caused you to start moaning almost helplessly.

“Right there?” He teased, watching your face contort in pure bliss and pleasure. “That feel good, darling? Jesus, you’re so pretty…”

He choked out a few incohesive curses as he felt you tighten up around him while he talked you through it, clearly already close from him plowing your cunt for just a few minutes. This was usually the best type of sex between you and Jonathan — whenever you two would just ravish each other in bed all…lovingly. Extra points if it was romantic like this; under the candlelight in a power outage. 

“Yes! Fuck, keep going, Jon,” you hoarsely screamed out as he fucked you raw, slamming his cock into your tight little cunt as you got close to your second orgasm and he was following right behind you.

“So tight,” he mumbled. “Perfect fucking pussy, so fucking good—” 

“Gon’ cum..I’m gonna–!” You whined before your vision went white, cunt clenching down around his length as you drenched him and the sheets. 

Jonathan looked down in awe as a clear liquid poured out of you, spilling all over him, his cock, and the sheets. The sight of you squirting that much sent his brain into overdrive as he gave a few more sloppy thrusts before spurting his warm, sticky cum onto your plush walls. As he filled your cunt, he let out a rather loud groan, gripping your hips so tight it almost hurt. 

For a moment, all was still and silent as the two of you caught your breaths in the now slightly stuffy bedroom that smelt like a mix of sex and whatever pumpkin-spiced and cinnamon-scented candles you had going. Jonathan was the first to speak as he finally pulled out of you, careful not to hurt you, and pulled you close into his arms the second he laid back down beside you. 

“I’m never going to stop you from getting your candles ever again,” he decided jokingly, kissing the top of your head. 

“See,” you said proudly, “they set the mood and they smell good.” 

“True,” he said, pausing for a moment before looking down at the soaked bedding then back at you with a smile. “So, we should probably clean the sheets…”

ੈ✩‧₊˚

taglist ->

@girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebellebarnes @wiseyouthinfluencer

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love @cranecat

@hfidnnf

[nyhti]

I’ve been listening the Arkham patient interview series by Mr rouges on YouTube and now I can’t imagine Jerry sounding different 😭

https://youtube.com/watch?v=0io_wvjfXV0

I personally have trouble imagining voices for any of the characters. Since they are comic book characters, they are silent by default. But now that I think about it, I think Jerry's voice would be very normal. Like there's nothing distinct about it. I prefer the way Norm Breyfogle drew Jerry, because the very plain and boring design makes sense for a character who's greatest fear is people thinking he's ”crazy”. Like, of course he'd want to look as normal as possible. And it would follow that his voice would also be very average and unmemorable. It would also be fun if he forced his voice to be more ”normal” and that the way he speaks with people he's comfortable with would be more lively and have more personality.

[themovieblogonline]

Joker: Folie à Deux Review: A Dark, Chaotic Dance of Madness

Todd Phillips returns to Gotham with Joker: Folie à Deux, a riveting sequel that builds on the disturbing, gritty foundation laid by its 2019 predecessor. This time, Phillips takes the film into daring new territory by embracing a jukebox musical structure, creating a disturbing symphony of madness that deepens the psychological exploration of Arthur Fleck’s transformation into the Joker. With Joaquin Phoenix reprising his Oscar-winning role and Lady Gaga delivering a haunting performance as Harleen “Lee” Quinzel, Joker: Folie à Deux expands the psychological thriller into a darkly operatic spectacle. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_OKAwz2MsJs Premise: The film picks up two years after the events of Joker (2019), with Arthur Fleck now in custody at Arkham State Hospital, awaiting trial for his gruesome crimes. This transition is significant, as Arthur’s mental state has deteriorated further, with his personality fragmenting into different identities, one of which is still the Joker. Phillips and co-writer Scott Silver present Arthur not just as an agent of chaos but as a man deeply embroiled in a personal battle against his own psyche. Arthur’s story is grounded in psychological horror, but the musical interludes—where reality often distorts—add an unexpected layer to the narrative. Songs become moments of intense emotional release, giving insight into Arthur’s fractured mind while making a bold stylistic statement. These sequences could have easily disrupted the film’s tone, but Phillips integrates them seamlessly, balancing the dark, grounded moments with the dreamlike, melodic ones. Lady Gaga is terrific: A major highlight of Folie à Deux is the introduction of Lady Gaga’s Harleen Quinzel, or “Lee,” as she prefers to be called. Gaga’s performance is magnetic, capturing the essence of someone equally broken, though in a very different way from Arthur. Lee is an enigmatic figure—a psychiatric patient whose past is filled with lies and half-truths. Her manipulative relationship with Arthur is simultaneously seductive and disturbing, as she admires the Joker’s violent persona while seeking connection with Arthur’s fragile, vulnerable side. Gaga’s musical prowess is also on full display. In several poignant musical sequences, her voice carries an emotional weight that conveys Lee’s deepening infatuation with Arthur and her descent into her own brand of madness. One standout moment involves a duet between Arthur and Lee, where the music contrasts their chaotic romance with tender melodies, reflecting their shared instability. It’s a twisted love story that feels doomed from the start but is engrossing nonetheless. A dark universe: While the film retains the bleak, oppressive atmosphere of Gotham from the first Joker, Folie à Deux feels even more suffocating. Arkham State Hospital, where most of the film takes place, becomes a central character in its own right—its cold, institutional halls mirroring the psychological confinement that Arthur and Lee experience. The hospital’s cruel reality is punctuated by brutal sequences, particularly Arthur’s interactions with the guards, led by Brendan Gleeson’s Jackie Sullivan. Gleeson’s performance as Sullivan—a sadistic authority figure who relishes in his power—adds another layer of tension to the film, serving as a stark contrast to Arthur’s unraveling mental state. This sense of powerlessness and systemic cruelty amplifies the film’s already heavy themes of societal abandonment and institutional failure. Yet, Phillips doesn’t allow the film to drown in hopelessness; instead, he uses the chaos and violence as a backdrop for Arthur’s inner transformation. The film’s climax is particularly hard-hitting, with an explosion of violence that is more chaotic and unpredictable than the first film’s slower, more calculated brutality. Arthur’s final confrontation with his identity and the Joker persona is both harrowing and cathartic. Themes: At its core, Joker: Folie à Deux is a film about identity—specifically, the fractured nature of Arthur Fleck’s sense of self. Phillips explores the boundaries between reality and delusion, often leaving the audience unsure of what is real and what is a product of Arthur’s dissociative mind. The inclusion of Harvey Dent (though not in the traditional form that fans of the comics might expect) adds an interesting legal angle to the narrative. Dent’s role in the trial forces Arthur to confront his actions, and it’s in these courtroom scenes that the film delivers some of its most emotional moments. Arthur’s relationship with his lawyer, Maryanne Stewart (played by Catherine Keener), offers glimpses of empathy, but it’s clear that even she cannot reach him. The revelations about Lee’s true background—her lies about her past and motivations—further underscore the theme of unstable identities. Just as Arthur is lost in the Joker persona, Lee’s obsession with him becomes her own downfall, making their relationship as toxic as it is compelling. The music: The jukebox musical format could have been a significant risk, potentially clashing with the dark, gritty aesthetic of the Joker universe. However, Phillips uses music as an emotional release valve, creating sequences that reveal more about Arthur’s internal world than words or traditional scenes could. The contrast between the film’s grim, violent tone and the often dreamy, whimsical musical numbers adds a surreal quality that draws the viewer deeper into Arthur’s psyche. Lady Gaga’s songs, in particular, stand out, as her performance adds a theatrical flair that works within the context of the musical numbers without undermining the film’s dramatic stakes. The music enhances rather than detracts, making Folie à Deux feel like a more complete and multifaceted exploration of its characters’ psyches. A risky movie: Joker: Folie à Deux takes significant risks, but it’s those very risks that make it an unforgettable experience. It builds on the groundwork of the first film but pushes the envelope in terms of style, tone, and narrative complexity. Joaquin Phoenix delivers another masterclass in acting, portraying Arthur Fleck’s tortured mind with heartbreaking vulnerability, while Lady Gaga proves to be an inspired addition, bringing both passion and madness to the film. Overall: For fans of the first film, this sequel is a bold evolution of the story. With its blend of psychological thriller, musical interludes, and deep character study, Joker: Folie à Deux is a unique cinematic experience that resonates long after the credits roll. While not without its flaws, it is a thrilling, disturbing, and ultimately satisfying continuation of Arthur Fleck’s descent into madness. Read the full article

[mydear-corinthian]

Unsaid Feelings || Jonathan Crane / Scarecrow x reader

Synopsis: Jonathan Crane is your psychologist and you're starting to have feelings for him in which you thought was wrong. Pairing: Jonathan Crane x reader - Scarecrow x reader Warnings: SMUT +18, mentions of abuse & alcohol, p in v, dirty talk, breeding kink, SPOILERS AHEAD Notes: N/A Click here to find the main masterlist. Click here to find the CILLIAN MURPHY + his character masterlist.

SMUT AHEAD !

Being one of the best psychologist's patient in the city of Gotham made you feel lucky. For more than a year, you were a patient of Dr. Jonathan Crane. You were referred to him because of the difficulties you encountered following your breakup with an abusive partner, Henry.

During the consultation, you will explain to your now-ex-partner how terrified you were of him on a physical and emotional level. Henry allowed you to move into his apartment and took you on dates during the initial stages of their relationship, but it was before he began drinking. When he started going to bars and returning home late, you were initially okay with him drinking not until in your previous shared apartment, the fridge was stocked only with alcoholic drinks. Unfortunately, Henry began to harm you on a physical, mental, and verbal level. He continued to abuse you, call you horrible names, and strike you in the face, stomach, and every other part of your body.

When you eventually got up the nerve to say no to Henry, you ended your relationship with him. You packed up all of your things and left from the shared apartment right away. You asked for for help because you have suffered and you don't know what to do. You visited a hospital where Jonathan Crane, a well-known psychologist, was employed on a short-term basis. Renowned doctor Jonathan Crane works in Arkham Asylum, the city's asylum. It went nicely the first time you went to see him. He was kind, soft, sympathetic, and of course, charming. He spoke to you in such a delicate manner that it seemed as though you were fragile the moment it was touched. You were comforted by his words.

After a handful of sessions, your view of him changed. You were beginning to concentrate more on his appearance. His glasses, his well-groomed hair with a few strands of his bottom hair poking out—all of which you thought were adorable—and his icy-blue eyes shine. His warm touch made your heart skip a beat.

This is Crane's fifteenth consultation with you. Over time, the topics of conversation shifted from your ex to yourself. You were final that you were having feelings for him, but it doesn't feel right. Perhaps Jonathan is your comfort person in real life, or at least he seems to be. However, the fact that he is a psychologist makes it feel wrong. He simply carries out his duties. You felt sorry knowing that he was providing his other patients with the same comfort that you were receiving.

Shaking the negative thoughts in your mind, you arrived at his clinic, which was located in a different building from the hospital and the doctor's office. Breathing deeply, you walked into the clinic. The smell of the air freshener in the room made you feel at ease and at comfort. Normally, his secretary would be right outside the consultation room, but after checking all over, you couldn't find her. As you waited for Jonathan to call your name, you took a seat in the empty black cushion with your tiny black purse resting on your lap. Your white heels tapping echoed through the silent clinic as you anxiously tapped your foot.

After a few minutes of waiting, a man with a black suit and clear glasses went outside the consultation room. 

He smiled as he found you, "(L/N)." he called your name. 

You immediately stood up from your seat, smiling and nodding at him before you entered the consultation room first. The smell of his men's perfume flowed to your nose, making you blush at his sexy scent. 

His office wasn't that much, it was brown and it has blinds at the back, getting the view outside of his clinic. Instead of sitting down, you walked around the room, gazing at the decorations, his awards, and him. He did the same but he just stood in front of his long brown table, his back hip leaning against the table. 

There was a few seconds of silence before he started speaking. "How are you now, (Y/N)?" he asked. 

Hearing him call your first name sent shivers all around your body. It wasn't the first time he called you by your first time since the both of you were now calling each other your first name basis, but it just felt new. 

"I'm doing fine, Doctor Crane." you replied, looking at him, your body straightening up. 

Crane smiled, his blue eyes looking at yours. "'Jonathan' is fine, remember?" His posture straightened, not leaning against the table anymore. His right hand was tucked in his right pocket trousers. "I might need a more specific answer to that, (Y/N)."

You chuckled nervously, "Ah r - right. Well um .. I'm actually doing fine. Henry isn't in my mind now rather than before. But there's this something that stiffs me. A feeling, maybe." 

His head tipped slightly to one side, indicating that he was actively listening to you, and his eyes blinked irregularly, showing that he was paying close attention. Crane was obviously relieved to hear that you were doing better, but his face turned puzzledly curious when you spoke what you said next. His eyes kept returning to your face, mesmerized by the seductive features of your features and the vivid red color of your dress. A small smile twitched the edges of his mouth, a subtle nod to the way the red material framed you and traced the graceful curves of your body with easy ease. He was stunned for a time by your breathtaking appearance at that very moment.

Walking up towards you, he asked, "And what is this feeling? Is it something new?"

You felt anxious like your body was paralyzed. You cannot just go and straight up told him that you are in love with him especially that he is your doctor. 

"I'm not sure, Jonathan," you spoke "But it's definetly not new." 

"Interesting," he replied, walking towards the window, shutting the blinds off, giving the both of you more privacy. "Tell me more." 

"I feel stiff, maybe both in a good and bad way. This guy's different from Henry at all, this guy understands me. He makes me feel safe. He's just so .. different," you explained, gathering up your emotions on him in your mind. "I think I love him, Jonathan. But I think I can't. It feels wrong, I mean look at my state?" 

His eyes widened at your response, making him walk towards you again, his left hand adjusting the frame of his clear glasses. 

"And why does it feel wrong to love this certain man?" he wondered. He couldn't help but pout to himself. He didn't know who you were referring to caused him pain. 

His eyes have been fixed on you ever since you entered his clinic. He thought you were interesting and slowly began to feel something for you. He is doing his best to understand you, but he cannot help but feel heartbroken whenever you mention that you still can't move on from Henry. As he gently observed your improvement and how you're beginning to shine and feel free, he was happy. He despises Henry so much that he considered using his fear-toxin to kill him first. He hates how he handled a kind lady like you. He would prefer that you spend time with him, instead.

The distance between the both of you is now getting smaller and smaller. You can smell his perfume better and he can hear your deep breaths.

"I - fuck! It's you, Jonathan! I'm in love with you and it feels so wrong! You're so caring and you make me so comfortable it weakens me. It feels wrong because .. I'm your patient and I a hundred percent sure that you don't even love me ba-" you snapped your feelings out but you got cut off when his lips crashed into yours.

Your eyes widened at what's happening. He gripped your hips, deepening the slow and sensual kiss. Your hands found its way to the back of his neck, wrapping your hand gently.

The both of you broke the kiss, catching your breaths. You were shocked, your eyes locked his crystal ones. A sweet smile was planted on Crane's face.

"I waited for so long for you to say that." he said, holding your delicate palms and interlocking it with his.

You were so confused, does he like you too?

"I - I'm confused, Jonathan.." you said.

He chuckled, "I'm in love with you too, (Y/N). From the moment I saw you, I know there was something with you that interests me."

You kissed him again but more harshly this time. The kiss was getting hotter and messier, his tongue slipping inside your lips, tasting you.

His strong arms carried you, bringing you to his table, sliding the papers and other things that were occupying it, giving you room to sit down.

Crane was desperate to taste you more, but the kiss didn't break at all; instead, it grew more intense. His mouth moved to your neck, nibbling it and leaving his mark on you. Your legs bucking up his hips, you whimpered as he sucked your soft spot.

"God you're so beautiful," he said in between kisses.

Crane's fingers unzipped your dress from your back, exposing your breasts from your white lace-y bra.

He fully removed your dress, exposing your soaking wet panties. He licked at the sight, "Wet for me already, huh?"

He wasted to time and rub your clothed clit in circling motion, pleasuring you down there. Moaning, his pace became faster and faster.

"Fuck! Jonathan.." you moaned at the pleasure that he was giving you. Your back arched as your hands were gripping his shoulders, your head throbbed back.

You felt your orgasm coming as you moaned his name loudly, your legs trembling.

He knew you were close but his fingers stopped, edging you. You frowned at him.

"Now now, let's not rush shall we?" he said.

Crane started to unbuckle his trousers and removed his underwear, his huge hard shaft sprunged out.

You started to fully take out your panties and bra, tossing it to the floor, letting it join yours and Crane's clothes.

"Jonathan, please .." you lustfuly begged. Spreading your wet folds, begging him to take you.

"Please what?" he teased.

"I need you. Please, fuck me,"

A grin was plastered on his face before he aligned himself to your entrance. Stroking his shaft thrice, he slowly pushed himself inside you, his cock taking your needy cunt.

"Holy shit, you're so tight," he groaned as your wet folds was starting to take him.

He let you adjust his size first before he started to thrust inside you. His arms gripping your hips at every thrust he makes.

You let out a series of pornographic moans as you take him, your nails dugging his back, enough to leave some small scars.

Crane's thrusts became faster and faster, letting out a loud groan. The clapping noise of your body slapping each other echoed the room.

Waves of pleasure coursed through your entire being with each thrust of his rigid cock diving deep into your hungry, wet cunt. His lips were gentle yet persistent, giving you love bites all over your neck that made you want to cling to him even more. Your senses were controlled by a piece of delight and pleasure at that very instant, dominating you with an intoxicating balance of satisfaction and yearning.

"Good girl, taking my cock so well, that's it baby," he praised, hitting your sensitive spot multiple times.

You moaned and cursed out loud, your legs trembling and raising up, allowing him to penetrate deeper. His cock reaching those sensitive spots that you never knew existed.

"Henry doesn't make you feel this good, didn't he?" he asked, an evil smile decorated his face, looking at the hickeys that he made on your neck.

"You feel so good, yes!" you moaned. His lips crashed into yours again, desperate for each other's taste as the both of you took each other.

Your cunt squeezed around his pulsating cock as the appealing threads of ecstasy started to curl inside you, causing him to release a husky groan. Your stomach clenched with anticipation, ready to burst at any second due to Crane's tireless aim of your most weak spots. With every well thrust, your body shivered with ecstasy, increasing the release that was just around the corner.

"I'm close, Jonathan.." your loud moans echoed the room, his pace was going faster and faster.

"Me too baby, me too. Where do you want it?" he asked, his orgasm reaching anytime too.

"Inside, please! I need you.." you begged and begged as you clenched again. Your sweat dripping from your jaw.  

"Cum on my cock, love. That's it, take it fucking all."

After a few thrusts, you and Crane both reached your orgasm. His seed planting inside you, not pulling out until every drop gets inside of your fucked cunt. Your white creamy cum decorated his shaft.

After a few seconds, he finally pulled out, your shared cum oozed out of your cunt, staining the table. The both of you panted, catching your own breathes.

"I love you, Jonathan."

"You have my heart, (Y/N)."

[gothamdad]

Here’s a list of stupid, shitty writing that ARE NOT CANON TO MY BLOG. I’ll be adding this to my rules, too. 

-Hitting his kids. Sorry, but Bruce is the type of person who, unless sparring or absolutely necessary, won’t fight back against his kids. He understands if they lash out, and honestly? He can take the punches. He knows he’s the better fighter, and he knows how to dodge and let someone tire themselves out.

-Xenophobia. Bruce doesn’t trust anyone until they earn it, and twisting that into oh he just trusts humans is stupid. His best friend is an alien, and so is Kori who becomes part of the family with her relationship to Dick. 

-Morrison’s depiction of his relationship with Talia al Ghul.  Why do people still accept this as canon? It’s not. It was shitty writing that retconned a beautiful relationship. Bruce and Talia got married, their relationship was consensual. 

-ALL of rebirth. Tom King is a shitty writer. 

And here’s a list of things that ARE CANON TO MY BLOG: 

-Good heart. Say it with me, Bruce is a HERO. He doesn’t think it himself, but every one of his actions depict this. He’s emotionally distant and an asshole, yes, but it’s because he’s seen more death and madness than anyone should and wants to guard himself and others. That’s a fault, and one I play out often, but at the end of the day he’s still a man who is morally one of the best men there is, and will fight for justice and fight for his city until his last breath. 

-Justice League Animated and Batman: The Animated Series. If you want to know what he’s like for the most part, watch these. They show him before the phase where DC didn’t take away characterization for the sake of shock factor