#why is Jonathan crane so hot | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

weirdworldofwinnie · 1 year ago

Text

Happy Halloween!🎃Here's a treat for all you Jonathan Crane lovers out there:

Face Me...

Dr. Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow x Female Reader (NSFW 18+ only smut)

Summary: You work at Arkham Asylum in Gotham and Dr. Crane has been stalking you for a while, but you are leery of him and have been avoiding him outside of professionalism at all costs. One night though as you are leaving work, he tracks you down at your car to see just what you're so afraid of.

Word Count: ~4,426

Warnings: Semi-rough car sex, non-con elements, forced oral (male receiving), dirty talk/language, slight degradation, hair pulling, slapping, stalker behavior, talk of virginity loss, birth control, Dr. Crane being kind of a creep in general

Note: Reader does not know he is actually Scarecrow! And images above are sourced from Pinterest. This story is based only on Cillian Murphy's version in the Batman films and is my interpretation of the character; I don't own him or any part of the franchise, this is just for fun.

Tonight was swathed in misty sheets of rain in the gritty darkness lightly tainted by the glow of streetlights as your car, parked a few blocks from Arkham Asylum, beeped to unlock and you slung your purse over your shoulder, sighing after a long day and wanting to get home to a hot bath and a drink or two. But a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach at a shadow from your peripheral vision made you hesitate and you squinted through the hazy shower that was tapering off to a light drizzle, dampening your hair.

A suited man, height on the shorter side, was stopped no more than twenty feet away and a jarring jolt rushed to your bones when you saw the street light glint off his narrow framed glasses and you paused, hand on the car door. He was utterly silent and you were unnerved by his stiff posture and oddly clenched fists, half thinking to jump in your four-door-sedan and peel out of his presence, but he then walked forward causally, those hands relaxing and slipping into the pockets of his black slacks.

"Good evening," he called out, stepping into view under a streetlight with a smirk and you clenched your jaw, crossing your arms defensively as he slowly approached, that sick smile never sliding off his features that were - you'd have to admit - frankly handsome... No, beautiful was a better term.

"Why are you stalking me, Dr. Crane?" you asked with edginess to your tired voice. It was late and you didn't even live in Gotham City, you just commuted here for work.

"Stalking? Oh no, I am simply observing," he replied smoothy, but it came off as more snappy and insincere.

"Right... Don't you have somewhere to go?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah, home to my apartment miles away. It's been an exhausting day and too late to be out on the town, so if you're proposing anything, I can't take it tonight."

"It's always a long, late night in Gotham."

He moved within a few feet of you and you swallowed nervously, but remembered a man like him could smell fear, so you put up a brave front.

"So when do you finally fuck off and leave me alone? It's unprofessional to follow someone without their permission, you know. Keep this up and I'll need a restraining order."

"But you always avoid me during work and now you reject my offer for simple company?"

"Company late at night at my car in the rain? And aren't you technically my boss? We aren't friends and I don't know why you're so interested in me, but I don't think you should be. I'm not looking for a man like you. Right now I'm just looking for a nice glass of red wine honestly."

"Really...?" he drew the word out to almost a parodying tone and you pursed your lips.

"Yes, really. Now I bid you goodnight, Dr. Crane." You opened the car door fully, ducking and stepping a foot in when the door caught and you looked up to see him holding it in a firm grip. He was stronger than you expected.

"Stop denying it, I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. Stop hiding and face me once and for all," he insisted darkly.

You took a breath, desperately trying to calm your beating heart and yet the horrible feeling that this evening wasn't going to end on a dull note persisted.

"Don't hurt me, I'll-" you started to warn and his eyebrows shot up with a shake of his head.

"Call the police?" It sounded like mockery from his mouth and you scowled as he continued, his pale hand sprinkled with rainwater sliding up and down the car door frame.

"Hurt you, hm? Well, only if you want me to." He chuckled and you stared at his slightly floppy dewey dark hair and raised eyebrows.

"Why the hell would I want you to hurt me?"

"You tell me. I do know you secretly want something else, don't you? Something more... erotic?"

You scoffed angrily, hating how he was worming his way past your exterior and into attraction, but you couldn't let it happen.

"Take a raincheck. I'm going home." You tried to shut the door but he was still holding it in a death grip, knuckles white and veins bursting out the back of his hand.

"Stop fucking around, I don't have time for this sh-" you cut off your sentence with a yelp as Dr. Crane shoved you inside the backseat of your own car and you landed flat on your back as he came inside to hover over your vulnerable body, wetting his pink lips.

"Please! Don't do this!" you cried out of panic and he leaned back, breathing heavily.

"Don't go anywhere," he warned and you struggled to sit up, throwing your purse up front and he slammed the side door shut, getting more comfortable in the backseat, which you were not pleased about.

"This is MY car, get out," you commanded, but he was as cool as a cucumber as he cleaned his glasses with a cloth from his suit jacket.

"I just want to talk one on one, which we never do outside of the usual board meetings and it can be so boring, always about psychiatry and stats and police reports and this patient and these crazies and-"

"Oh sure you just want to talk. I'm not some kind of naive idiot to the desires of the opposite sex," you rolled your eyes and he scoffed, settling back on the seat with a cross of his legs and looking up to the car ceiling.

"It's so cold and wet tonight, shame we aren't someplace more cozy," he muttered and you awkwardly crawled into the driver's seat with your keys and fumbled to insert them in, starting the ignition.

"What are you doing there?" he asked mildly and even that sounded passive aggressive. God, he sure was insufferable.

"Turning the heat on because you're whining about it. I just wish you'd get out of here, completely violating my privacy."

"This is a public street you're parked on, isn't it? And is this how you treat all passengers?"

"I never have any passengers," you remarked bitterly and Crane leaned forward, putting his hands on the back of the seat and peering around to you as you glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"Indeed. I know you're mostly a loner with almost no friends and orphaned from family or maybe you've lied and they aren't dead and are only estranged... Either way, no one cares and no one understands how you spend office hours in a facility full of the most criminally insane but you do it for the money and to quench your curiosity because deep down, you know - you know you're a freak too who sees no normal in what you have deemed a, oh say... corrupt kind of world."

You swallowed at his assertions and unfortunately fairly accurate reading.

"I don't need sympathy from you of all people," you snapped, putting the heat to full blast. It was freezing tonight and the defrost was battling the condensation filling up the windshield.

"I'm only trying to understand you myself, it's my job to psychoanalyze."

"I'm not one of your patients or experiments," you told him in disgust.

"Every human being is an experiment in the eyes of their creator, which is me for you because I happen to be the one who hired you in the first place. Without me, you would not have a job and therefore I created you in that respect," he replied in absurd smugness.

"Then what am I? Frankenstein's monster?"

His eyes flashed and he adjusted his glasses reflexively.

"I wish. No, you're my first prototype I have yet to diagnose."

You shut the heat off once the internal temperature was fairly toasty and cracked a window down a fraction for circulation. A beat of silence befell until he suddenly climbed into the front, dropping into the passenger seat confidently, and you realized how lithe he was, how easily he fit into spaces not designed for someone with such an overshadowing, all-encompassing ego.

"Now what are you doing?" you asked exasperatedly. He didn't answer and you hated the way looking at him was making your heart flutter despite your anger and the alarm bells ringing in your brain. Something about him was always... very off and you never could quite place your finger on it, he was a blind spot, but it was undeniable. Which was telling considering the people you were exposed to every day.

Crane reached up and removed his glasses entirely with a swipe to set them on the dash and your breath caught with that simple action. You admitted how he was very visually pleasing without those lens obstructing his intense blue colored orbs were. You glanced down and fiddled with the keys when he suddenly snatched them up out of your lap and pocketed them into his own pants with a manic expression.

"Hey, give those back!" you yelled and began to wrestle with him, arms flailing as he held his own above his head, palms up and empty.

"You want those? You have to do something for me first."

"I-Okay, what is it?" You dropped your arms and glared at him suspiciously. He smirked once, speaking with a tremor of excitement.

"If I was civilized, which I'm admittedly not, I'd ask you out on an old fashioned dinner date and then walk you to your door, give you a nice polite kiss and send flowers to your desk on Monday. But I can't wait anymore for that saccharine romantic scenario, so we'll get straight down to business. I want to fuck your brains out, right here in the car."

You blinked, rather stunned.

"I... I-I no, I can't, I mean that's-"

And here was where your confidence utterly failed as he suddenly lunged and grabbed you to pin you down inbetween the passenger and driver seats, head flung upside down almost to the backseat floor and legs helplessly kicking towards the windshield.

"Please, don't do this!" you yelped anxiously.

"Don't tell me you're a virgin who has never had a dick in you before," he whispered, misreading your fearful hesitant expression. Actually, you'd had sex once with a lame boyfriend back in college and since then, avoided the dating and hookup scene, content just to masturbate when you could.

"Oh, fuck, I should've guessed. What a shocking discovery," he wrongly concluded rather sarcastically and you cringed, twisting your head away from his warm breath and ridiculously good looks.

"This makes it all the more interesting, then," he murmured with a feathery caress to your cheek and you flinched, giving him a kick and successfully wriggling out of his grasp to curl up against the door in the backseat.

"I've been waiting a long time for our encounter," he mused, utterly unfazed at the negative reaction.

You immediately went to open the door, ready to run for your life if he became overly threatening, but he hit the button that locked all the doors. You manually unlocked your one door - thank God for that safety feature - but his deadly voice made you freeze.

"Are you quite sure you want to do that?"

"T-This is my ensured vehicle and y-you are violating every right of mine by t-taking over like this," you stated, but your voice was shaking like a leaf through the words.

"That's it, you are afraid of me..." he whispered slowly and the pure delight with pride in his voice was unmistakable. You turned to look at him directly, unable to hide and deny anything any longer.

"I think you are being very inappropriate right now," you admitted nervously.

Crane moved to join you in the backseat, but you felt stuck even though you could technically open the door and make an escape. There was no way he could really stop you, was there? He didn't have a weapon on him, did he?

"If you were really frightened, you would have bolted by now," he said as though reading your thoughts and you gulped, realizing he was right.

"Dr. Crane, I-" you were broken off by him abruptly grabbing your face and kissing you, his tongue sloppily forcing its way into your mouth and you naturally reciprocated while inhaling his sharp stinging scent of expensive cologne. He pulled back with a gasp and a mischievous spark in his eyes that made something awaken deep inside.

"You kissed me," you said in a stunned voice.

"That's precisely what I did, Y/N," he answered with another touch of smugness and you closed your eyes, knowing you were in too deep now. He was going to take this all the way and you felt helpless to stop it. Did you even want to stop him?

"I knew if I exposed myself enough to you, you'd finally stop being immune," Crane told you with a sort of self-righteousness as he ran his hands down your back and shrugged your coat off before moving to your front to remove your blouse carefully, button by button.

"I hate to see such pretty tits contained and so oppressed... Let's free them, shall we?"

He unclasped your bra and removed it, tossing it to the floor and you shivered, goosebumps peppering your bare arms and neck.

"Aww, is it too cold?" He made a pout and privately you wanted to smack those stupid lips right off his condescending face but it was if you were under a spell of a sudden, entranced by his actions and his hypnotic eyes. He trailed his fingers down from your throat to your nipples and you hardened at the stimulation, closing your eyes in regret. Dr. Crane was turning you on, dammit.

"Better than I could imagine..." he breathed, taking in your appearance for a minute while groping your breasts, squeezing, and you gritted your teeth as he teasingly tickled you under your arms, making your breath hitch and a stupid giggle slipped out.

"Sensitive, are we? I promise I won't hurt you."

You leaned back, casting a fretful look out the windows in case of onlookers, but the street was empty and the glass was streaky with rain, creating a thickly translucent rippled covering not unlike a shower curtain.

"No one knows," Crane stated flatly in response to your paranoia while untying his dress shoes and pushing them under the seats. You just nodded, taking off your own and then unzipping your pants the same time he undid his own. His tight dark grey briefs were bulging with his cock and you hesitated, absolutely unsure of what to do when he completely stripped and out popped out his erect glistening-at-the-tip penis in full view.

"Take it in your mouth," Crane ordered abruptly, pushing you down beneath him.

"Um, no I think that's disgus-" Your voice was cut off as you nearly choked; he roughly shoved his cock so fast into your parted mouth. The silky end of his tie tickled your nose as he inched closer, and clearly this was much more enjoyable for him than it was for you as he groaned in building ecstasy and you kept your mouth closed around it, afraid that if you moved, you'd gag or get hurt. He forced your head up a little and bobbed, but you could feel a dribble of precum seeping down your throat and now you reflexed, yanking yourself from him with a loud noise and banging the car door open to cough and spit violently out onto the pavement below.

"Get back in, do you want someone to see us?!" Crane hissed and you felt a sharp tug on your hair as he pulled you back. You shrieked and self defensively twisted to slap him straight in the face. He gasped from the unexpected blow, falling back and banging his head on the opposite window as you spat, wiping your lips of his mess.

"Can't take it like a common whore, can you? Feel like being a goddamn difficult bitch, don't you? Think you're better than me, do you?" he seethed, rubbing his cranium and you huffed.

"I thought you'd just put your dick in me, not that bullshit."

"It's called oral and many women in fact enjoy it."

"How do you know, you've done that before?"

He had a strange expression when he replied briskly.

"I've read up on the concept, you know."

"You've studied about women and sex. Amazing. Is that what you do on your lunch break or...?" you almost laughed, but the way he was staring at you wasn't in a joking manner. He had the look of an inmate one straw away from a full psychotic behavior break down. Basing from your training, you decided to distract his frustrating anger and talk nonchalantly to calm him down.

"Okay, I'm kidding around, I get it, and I don't mean to hate or spite you. Remember when I was initially employed at Arkham, fresh out of college, and I met you for the first time? I personally thought you were extremely cocky and looked waaay too young to be a top psychiatrist in such a grand high security institution. Now I can say with certainty that while you are, um, creative in your methods with the inmates and I do admit I find you very terribly attractive, I have to say Dr. Crane... I still think you're an arrogant son of a bitch."

"Call me Jonathan," he replied, unimpressed by the insult and wrestling off his tie.

"Well, Dr. Jonathan, you sure are a pretty piece of work," you replied with ample attitude and he was fed up, dumping his jacket and shirt from his body and twisting the tie in his fingers. He held it up and a muscle spasmed in face, jaw clenching and enunciating his cheekbones.

"You want me to choke you with this?"

"I'd really prefer you didn't and it would be very nice if you weren't such a dick forcing your sex on me," you answered matter-of-factly.

"Lie down or I'll fucking fire you from your position, understand?" he snapped loudly and was extremely serious as you glared, but then reluctantly laid back obediently on the seats just to avoid complications and he came down swiftly, carefully aligning to position his penis at your entrance. He cautiously touched the moist head to your vaginal lips when you held up a hand onto his chest, stopping him.

"Now hang on doctor, don't you want to warm up first?"

"I'm obviously already warmed up, Miss Y/LN."

"But I don't have lubricant on me, so you're going to have to get me naturally very wet for penetration because right now I'm dry as a bone," you warned for your own protection, but hardly expected him to listen.

"Don't tell me how to do it," he replied, snippy.

"I'm serious, you can't just stick it in there; it will be just as hard for you as it'll be for me and I don't want to end up seeing a gynecologist."

"So you aren't a virgin after all?"

"I had my hymen broken with a loser in the past," you told him and he raised one brown eyebrow, creasing his forehead with a few fine lines.

"Then how should I start, Miss doctor?"

You wordlessly took a hold of his index finger and guided it to your opening and he pressed lightly, feeling pooling liquid.

"You little liar, you're already discharging," he whispered disapprovingly and he massaged your clit in slow jerky rhythm. You nodded in approval, losing your control as he slipped a finger in and moved around enough to make you clench a bit, trapping his digit.

"How does that feel?" he asked almost clinically and you closed your eyes, urging him to put in another finger. He did and you almost orgasmed when he extracted much too soon, sighing.

"This isn't much fun for me," he whined and you made a face, shifting position to spread your legs wider, putting your arms up and accidentally smearing the fogged window with your fingertips. You looked utterly submissive, practically begging to be fucked, to get it over with (so you convinced yourself).

But for all his aggression to trap you in your own car for penetrative sex, Jonathan was now becoming oddly timid as he hesitantly closed the gap between you, realigning his bare body to yours.

"Wait, have you done this before?" you asked suspiciously and he was sheepish in answering.

"I told you, you are my first prototype."

"Shit, you're the virgin here?!" You laughed as though this made this experience any less stressful or partially contrived.

"Do you masturbate?" you then asked and he rolled his eyes.

"What kind of man of do you think I am?"

"Is that yes or no?"

"Doesn't matter, Y/N. Now, let me ask you a more important question: are you on birth control of any type?"

"I..." you hesitated to answer because if you told him 'no' would he go any further? You had pills at home as a precaution, but neglected to ever take them, assuming you'd be remaining single. But you had no intention of getting into a full relationship and certainly not being impregnated by this man.

"I left them at home," you finally answered truthfully.

"I have something for that then," he assured and you stared as he leaned back and rummaged in the pockets of his clothes on the floor. He produced a tiny pill container and dropped a pill into your open palm. You didn't ask why he was carrying around birth control pills, but assumed he had indeed been planning this for a while.

"Don't want any unnecessary side effects of something that I'll have to end up terminating anyway," he muttered bitterly as you popped it in and climbed into the driver's seat to swig some water from your plastic bottle in the cupholder, feeling grateful that at least he didn't administer that Fear Toxin he was always messing around with in the asylum.

"Now can we get started?" Jonathan asked impatiently and you took a breath, easing the front seat down so you were lying parallel to him. Jonathan clamored on top of your naked flesh and straddled you, his cock rubbing up against your thighs, then vaginal area and you squirmed, clutching onto his back. He pushed in gradually, but densely, and you whimpered at the stinging pain and then the growing pleasure bubbling around his cock within your walls and you clenched hard, much harder than you had with his fingers.

"Oh... Fuck, Jonathan..." you groaned and he bounced up and down lightly, thrusting with slaps of skin and you felt your bottom sticking with sweat to the leather seat as he kept at it for several minutes, gripping your hips and nearly plowing you apart. It hurt, no getting around it, and he wasn't privy to what you were feeling as he seemed entirely in his own zone, racing for his pleasure until you moaned loud enough to cause him glance down, realizing you were getting close to free falling off the edge.

"C'mon, you're so close with that pretty little pussy of yours, almost..." Jonathan breathed in your ear and as he hit the spot, finally the climaxing orgasm came with a bang and it was so intense, probably fueled by adrenaline and stress more than actual love, that you emitted a high pitched shrieking whine which trailed into a low moan of relief while it tapered off and he grunted, somehow thrusting even further. Yes, you had minimal experience, but had never ever been penetrated this far before and you dreaded how much longer he could rail you, but thankfully his own orgasm came with a grunting groan as he spilled into you and you held on, digging nails into his shoulder blades and nearly biting his neck. He panted heavily in your ear and his tickle of breath made your stomach flip.

He laid still on top of you for awhile, cock twitching and warming your insides. The windows were fogged up completely and the cold was now non-existent with the heat you and him were creating out of friction alone.

"You enjoy yourself?" you whispered hoarsely to Jonathan as his breathing slowed sluggishly and he looked like he was falling asleep, so you shoved him off your aching body and he blinked, rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah, that was satisfactory. Maybe I should bump up your paycheck."

"I'm not a prostitute, but thank you."

He smiled lazily, eyes rather unfocused, and you pulled your seat up with the lever, reaching for his glasses on the dash and handing them back to him. He, in turn, retrieved the car keys from his pants and tossed them back to you with a clanging jingle.

Casting a look around your car, there were streaky handprints on the fogged glass, thin swipes of fingers and imprinted palms decorating the back windows and you reached over to one and drew a heart outline in a patch of blank space. Jonathan's own finger speared through it, making a arrow.

"Very romantic," you commented sarcastically and moved to join him in the backseat as he started to draw a creepy face reminiscent of a familiar spooky icon (a clown? Maybe a scarecrow?) when he stopped and checked his watch.

"I need to go," Jonathan coldly stated out of the blue and began to hastily gather up his clothing, awkwardly dressing before he stepped outside and zipped up his pants, and inhaled the late October city air, somewhat out of breath. The rain had stopped and the skies were clearing, the full pearly white moon slicing through the curtain of storm clouds, and you drew your blouse around yourself with a shiver before sliding into underwear, realizing you'd never look at Dr. Crane the same since this intimately raw experience.

"So I'll be seeing you around tomorrow...?" you wondered aloud and although you meant for that to be purely work related, he clearly took it the other direction.

"Oh, I'll be seeing you." He smirked knowingly and then slammed the car door closed in your face, leaving you sore and to reel from whatever the hell this twisted specimen of a man just put you through. Did you like it?

Maybe.

Thanks for reading 🖤 First time writing for Jonathan Crane, so I hope this was halfway decent!

1K notes · View notes

dilf-issues · 4 months ago

Text

Fuck or Die | Jonathan Crane & Jackson Rippner

Synopsis; You’re stuck in a locked cell with the twins, a mysterious gas emerged

Warnings; Sex pollen, non-con/dubcon. Smut, threesome. PWP. LIKE NO PLOT AT ALL, DOUBLE PENETRATION, breeding kink, anal

A/N; Sorry for being M.I.Im so busy OML but here is a gift <3

A loud hiss can be heard in the air as the three of them snap their heads up to see what is going on. The confusion was written all over their face, they could only hear the sounds but they couldn’t exactly see what was occurring. Jonathan was the first one to realize it as the panic struck across his face, walking towards the door they once entered he tried opening it but to no avail, it was locked shut. He cursed to himself not wanting anyone to panic, especially Y/N who’s most anxious when things like this happen. Jackson caught on, as he walked towards his brother, trying to pull open the steel door but it was still latched shut.

They were trapped.

��Wait, what’s going on?” Y/N questioned, trying to see what the fuss was with the two as they stared at each other hesitantly and then back at her, “What?”

“We’re trapped” Jonathan stated as he could see the color of the girl’s face pale as she took a step back. “Calm down, Y/N. We’ll find a way out. We always do, alright?”

“That’s the thing. You found a way out. I’ve never been in a situation like this before…” Y/N could feel her heart pounding violently in her ribcage as her lungs started to constrict, limiting the air as her breathing started to pick up. Jackson walks towards the girl, carefully placing a hand on her back, trying his best to calm her down. The last thing they need was her freaking out. She needs to be as calm as possible so that she can think straight and find a way out.

Jonathan motioned Jackson to look up and pay attention to the noise and mist coming from above them, Jackson nodded as he caught on to what Jonathan was trying to say. “Do you know what it is?” Jackson asked as Jonathan speculated a few answers in his head.

“It can be a few things, non-lethal… doesn’t kill it’s subject until they were tested” Jonathan answered as Jackson received the information while looking around the room. Y/N was in the corner, trying hard to calm herself down and not be a burden to them. She barely heard what they were saying, she was too focused on healing herself.

They monitored this facility for months and months and nobody was here. They came here to collect more information on the organization. This room was probably automated.

The hissing in the air lasted for about three hours and they still had no idea what it was. It wasn’t making them feel dizzy or pain or sleepy, at least it hadn’t kicked in just yet.

Jonathan’s best bet was that the door would open by tomorrow, it’s what they always did with prisoners. It’s automated so a door towards their observing room would probably open up, it explains why there was a big ass mirror staring right back at them. They didn’t stop looking for an escape whatsoever, for all they know this gas could carry diseases—if it was that, they were in big big trouble.

But oh boy, were they wrong.

Jackson was the one to feel the symptoms first. The room was cold but he was excreting a crazy amount of sweat that made him take off his jacket and toss it to the floor as he shags his hair, feeling it growing damper and damper by the second. It felt like his blood was boiling, his skin was burning. Jonathan eyed him carefully, studying his manners to see if it was anything he was familiar with. “Hot?”

Jackson nodded, wiping the sweat on his forehead as he took a seat right next to Y/N, checking up on her once again. She was calmer now, at least now that Jackson explained what Jonathan told him they should be fine.

Jonathan starts to get what Jackson is saying. The room was hot. It was getting hotter and hotter for both of them, they were sitting in a goddamn oven.

“Hey, is it just me or it’s literally burning?” Jackson asked as Y/N shook her head, furrowing her brows in confusion as she stared at both men back and forth. “It’s fucking boiling in here” Jackson unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, he wanted to take off all of his clothes but he didn’t want to make Y/N feel uncomfortable.

The second symptom came in when both of their throats suddenly went dry, their mouth was dry but it wasn’t producing any saliva to lubricate their throat. Jonathan’s eyes widened when he starts to realize what was going on.

“Jackson, we gotta get out!” He shouted suddenly, startling Jackson and Y/N as they stood up quickly. They wanted to walk towards him but Jonathan pointed at Y/N to stay where she was. “Don’t fucking come near me!”

“Jonathan, what’s going on?” Jackson implored as he told Y/N to stand down. “You’re acting weird…”

“It’s not fucking safe, Jackson! We gotta get out of here, right now!” Jonathan saw this one too many times. He was so sure it was what he thought it was. Hell, he even managed to create this himself once.

The thing they were inhaling wasn’t gas. It was pollen. It is a stimulating pollen that made humans turn into sick monsters. These people used the pollen for breeding purposes. They wanted to make an enhanced being without needing any serum. They wanted someone gifted to exist biologically. Jonathan had experienced this himself but he had never seen what it did to other people. He was lucky enough he had an antidote before he went completely feral.

It was terrifying.

“Y/N… Y/N’s not safe” Jonathan swallowed the nonexistent liquid as he took shallow breaths for himself. Jackson started to feel the same thing Jonathan was feeling and it made him frantic. Jackson forced Jonathan to tell him what was going on or he was going crazy. Their stomach churned and they felt hungry.

Only this time it wasn’t for food.

“J-Jackson… We need t-to… Get o-out… Y/N’s not safe” It was getting harder for him to talk now. He was starting to feel it. They were starting to feel it. It was coiling in their bellies, growing hot and heavy. They were goners now.

“Jonathan, you’re freaking me out. Stop talking about me like I’m not here! At least let me help…” All she did was stood closer to him and touched his back but Jonathan’s response was beyond feral. He grunted, taking her wrist with his arm as he gripped on it, not wanting to let her go. Jonathan pushed her against the wall as she whimpered, feeling the wall colliding with her back as she whined in pain. “J-Jonathan?”

His other hand took her free wrist. Pinning both of them beside her head as he buried his face in her neck. He took a long whiff her scent—fear. It fueled him to the brim with the desire to absolutely destroy her, break her into tiny little pieces.

“J-Jackson, help… It h-hurts…” She pleaded but Jackson did nothing. He stood there, watching Jonathan feel her up and he liked it. He liked seeing his brother grope her, feeling up her perky breasts, rubbing her pussy through her pants.

God, he loves it.

Y/N felt the lump in her throat growing as the tears start forming in the corner of her eyes. Y/N stands no chance against Jonathan, she couldn’t do anything. All that is going through her mind was that maybe Jonathan was triggered but she had no idea why Jackson just stood there, watching her and did absolutely nothing.

“Why are you d-doing this, Jonathan?… Jackson!” She exclaimed, wanting him to do something, anything. Jonathan’s hand traveled down to her pants as he eyed them down. With a swift motion Jonathan effortlessly tore her pants off as he immediately kneeled in front of her, letting go of her wrists because he was positive she wasn’t going to go anywhere. He stared at the sheer cotton covering the most prized possession and out of nowhere he went and darted his tongue out, licking the nub of her clit as she whimpered to herself. Jackson stood there, his cock was dripping and heavy in his pants. He took them off, palming himself through his boxers as he watched his brother licks Y/N’s pussy softly, wetting the garment as her knees starts to become weak.

Jackson then steps forward, tearing her suit off of her torso and so does her bra. She cried when Jackson groped her breasts, leaning down to lick her pebbled nipples that had hardened from the cold air. Jonathan took off her panties, and his fingers attacked her swollen and puffy clit, rubbing it harshly as she thrashed against the wall, not having the power to even help herself up. She fell down to the ground, naked and afraid as Jonathan spreads her legs and starts entering his fingers inside her tight little cunt.

“Jonathan, Jackson... Please... Stop!” The stretch was excruciating and Jonathan didn’t show her mercy, he pumped his fingers in and out of her hole at a rapid pace, earning a scream of agony that had only made them even more feral. When she looked to her right, she can see Jackson, stroking his big and hard cock to the sound of her crying and being molested on the floor. Y/N was ashamed, there was nothing more than humiliation, fear, and disappointment running through her mind. She was drenched, leaking onto Jonathan’s fingers as she kept looking at Jackson’s cock that was dripping with pre-cum. She was ashamed that her body was enjoying what was happening to her.

Jonathan curled his fingers inside her pussy as she felt the pit growing inside her tummy, her pussy was tingling and she knew what was going to happen.

She was going to cum.

“J-Jonathan…!” She shouted as she let it all out, her thighs shaking and her body quivering as she moaned out loudly. Despite him being emotionless, the subtle smirk on the corner of his lips can be seen and there’s nothing more sinister than that. “Please… S-stop… Jonathan… Jackson… This is not like you…”

Both of them completely ignored the words that were coming out of her mouth. Jonathan stripped off of his clothes and pants, showing him and all of his glory. His cock was hard, deep purple veins were poking out as the tip leaked with clear pre-cum. They both hovered over her body like predators as Jonathan picked her up. Y/N didn’t fight, she didn’t say anything because nothing she said can change anything. She doesn’t know why this was happening to her.

Jonathan lined up his cock on her dripping entrance as Jackson came behind her, and what he did next made her scream the loudest she had ever scream.

Both of them impaled her holes at the same time, thrusting together at the same time, and she can feel herself psychically break. Their huge cocks filled her up to the point where they can see the curve of their bulges in her belly, moving up and down. Y/N hides her face into Jonathan’s neck, whimpering and pleading, hoping that the real Jonathan was still there to stop all of this.

Both of the men groaned and grunted loudly, loving the way how tight and warm her holes were. Their mission was still clear in their mind.

They wanted to fill all of her holes full of their cum. So full until it leaked onto the floor.

Jackson held her neck lightly choking her as she strained from her breath. They were both having the time of their lives, having their cocks stuffed into a pretty little cum rag all for them to use.

The noise they made was a mix of pleasure and pain, Y/N couldn’t form words out of her mouth anymore, she only screamed and screamed as she felt every inch of their dicks thrusting inside her.

Y/N could feel them twitching inside of her and she knew this was finally going to end.

Jackson and Jonathan grunted at the same time as the warm liquid was released inside her, painting her walls white as she could feel them filling her up. The small bloat in her tummy can be seen, she was so full of their cum.

When they were done, hey laid her onto the floor as the tears start pouring down her face. The cum inside her pussy seeped out onto the floor, pooling underneath her.

Jackson and Jonathan watched their seed escape her pussy and her ass as they felt themselves hardened again. They both stood up, picking her back up to repeat what they were doing.

Y/N was going to spend the next twenty-four hours with all of her holes filled with Jackson’s and Jonathan’s cum and there’s nothing she can do about it.

388 notes · View notes

lau219 · 2 months ago

Text

Summaries for Current Kinktober Lineup

🎃🤍🔥🎃🤍🔥🎃🤍🔥🎃🤍🔥🎃🤍🔥🎃🤍

🔥🤍🎃🔥🤍🎃🔥🤍🎃🔥🤍🎃🔥🤍🎃🔥🤍

🔥 Completion of Every Inch of You — Tommy finally acts on his long-time desire for Y/N, completely surprising her and showing her that not only can the right man make sex amazing, but that a real man not only admires a woman’s curves, but thoroughly enjoys them.

🎃 Cillian Murphy x Reader — Cillian is all for charity, but not for the pointless soirées that go with it. But when the charity he’s most tied to throws a gala, he’s expected to be there. Ordinarily, he finds any theme or gimmick incredibly stupid, but this particular event’s masquerade theme means at least he can disappear among the other attendees and not be hounded. When he meets an elegant, beautiful stranger with an adventurous side, he seizes the opportunity to finally enjoy one of these events.

🤍 Jonathan Crane x Reader — Y/N has been Jonathan Crane’s research assistant for a year now, and despite his extremely stoic and clinical demeanor, she has a hopeless crush on him. But she also wants badly to impress him, and she’s constantly striving to be the ideal assistant. Little does she know that Jonathan has spent the last year carefully assessing and analyzing her, not only because he’s secretly wanted her all along, but also to learn her desires and the ins and outs of exactly how to make her fall apart for him.

🔥 Jackson Rippner x Reader — Even the bad guys have to eat, right? And the local diner is where Jackson goes for a bite at least twice a week. Of course, the beautiful yet feisty waitress who always ends up being stuck serving him has nothing to do with his frequenting there, right? Fed up with Jackson’s sexist, arrogant attitude and asshole remarks, Y/N always tries to get him out of her diner as fast as possible, despite the fact that he’s the sexiest man she’s ever laid eyes on. This toxic back and forth comes to a head when Y/N finally pushes Jackson a little too far, and he has to teach her a lesson and show her just how much of a mistake it is to test him.

🎃 Tom Buckley x Reader — How can such an insanely hot man seem to have no personality and no interests in anything other than his work? That’s the question Y/N wonders on a daily basis about Tom Buckley, her professor’s TA and colleague. But when Dr. Matheson recruits Y/N to help with a new project due to her incredibly impressive performance in class, she and Tom are suddenly spending a lot of time together outside of class. Is there more to Tom than Y/N thought? Maybe there’s a personality behind those gorgeous blue eyes after all, and perhaps Tom’s prior behavior was simply how he’s kept himself in check, and not because he hasn’t noticed this star student.

🤍 Cillian Murphy x Reader — The theater has a different energy all its own, which is why Cillian is so passionate about it, always returning when the opportunity presents itself. With the latest invitation to perform as the lead actor in a new show filled with heavy drama and romance, the actor is surprised to learn that his female co-star is very fresh, not expecting a new actress to be able to take on such weight. But besides being unbelievably impressed with her sophistication and acting abilities, Cillian also can’t stop wishing that every romantic scene between them was happening in real life. But since Y/N has followed and admired Cillian for years as she made her own way in the acting world, the fondness is definitely mutual. Not to mention the fact that she nearly melts every time he touches her. Upon the wrap of closing night, will restraint and professionalism finally give way to desire and passion?

🔥 Modern Tommy Shelby x Reader — Tommy always calls the shots; it’s the only way he knows how to operate, and that includes in the bedroom. But outside the bedroom, Y/N needs to remember that Tommy still controls her. After several busy weeks with no sex between them due to crazy schedules and commitments, Tommy decides that tonight, the foreplay is going to begin before they even make it back home. Due to her recent slip in attitude and getting sassy with Tommy, Y/N is going to quickly be reminded that she’s completely at Tommy’s mercy (or lack thereof), and he has an intimate little gift for her to remind her of just that fact.

🎃 Jonathan Crane x Reader — If there’s anything Dr. Jonathan Crane despises, it’s a whiny patient. Yes, we all have problems, trauma, and fears, but rather than complain, he believes the best treatment is addressing those fears and facing them head on. So when he has yet another draining session with Y/N, his beautiful yet whiny therapy patient, he decides that the best way to finally make progress and address her fear of pregnancy and childbirth is to do some very personal exposure therapy.

🤍 Tommy Shelby x Reader — Lingerie mood boards and Tommy head canon on exactly what seeing you in lingerie does to him, and how he responds.

🔥 Jonathan Crane x Reader — Drs. Jonathan Crane and Y/F/N Y/L/N have been colleagues for over a year now, and it’s very much a love/hate relationship. Although title-wise, they’re equals, Jonathan seems to always think he’s in charge, and he enjoys bossing Y/N around. Fed up with his attitude during their latest collaboration, Y/N decides to teach Jonathan a lesson. When he instructs her to see how patients react to a new drug, she slips it to him instead, and a shift in control occurs that Jonathan was not expecting.

🎃 Modern Tommy Shelby — It’s a particularly busy time at work for Tommy lately, and much to both he and Y/N’s dislike, he hasn’t been home much, let alone had time for any intimacy. Seeing as they typically never go more than a day without sex, Y/N is feeling very deprived for her man. When he yet again isn’t home when he promises he would be, Y/N decides that a little distraction for Tommy is needed. But she’s thrown for a loop when Tommy’s attention doesn’t stray from his work and his tolerance for cockwarming lasts much longer than she anticipated. What is she gonna do now?

🤍 Modern Tommy Shelby — If Tommy could have you walking around topless 24/7 for him, he would. Of course, he adores ALL of you, but your breasts are a distracting favorite of his. When you meet him at a fancy event being held for some of his work colleagues, he’s thrown to see you wearing a dress that shows more of your chest than he wants any other man to see. How dare you put on display his two favorite features of yours that are meant to be for his eyes only?

@nyxxie-pooh @xsweetcatastrophe @allie131313 @betty21rose @febris-amatoria

@hannibellector @fairytale07 @meister95 @alltoowellbeneaththemangotree @beastofburdenxo

@runnning-outof-time @aphroditeslover11 @galactict3a @natalie--rushman @wild-rose-35

@judig92 @cillmurphyslover @ladyvenera @karah-bear @k1ng-l3on

@ceirinen @peskybinders @fuseburner @shaddixlife @neonpurplestars89-blog

@garrison-girl-08 @devotedlyshadowytheorist @emotionalcadaver @muhahaha303 @mostly-marvel-musings

@darklydeliciousdesires @mamawiggers1980 @honeymoon8 @novashelby @wonderlanddreamer

@cardan-official @fmo166 @vastcapacity @mspookington-blog @teawonderfultea-blog1

@shopgirl6us @fkmarrycill @mrs-bond @sl-newsie @lyarr24

@cillianbabe @vervainandspritz @pkmonka @myers-meadow

#tommy shelby #cillian murphy #jonathan crane #jackson rippner #tom buckley #modern tommy shelby

141 notes · View notes

kiss-me-cill-me · 11 months ago

Text

Devour

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 5k

Summary: When you accept a ride home from your colleague, Dr. Crane, the last thing you expect is for him to drug you. Crane is surprised as well, however, as his fear toxin has a very... unusual effect on you.

Warnings: NON-CON smut, non-consensual use of fear toxin, sex pollen-esque situations, kidnapping, S&M themes, dacryphilia, fear play, breath play

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

You were having an extremely bad day.

There was really no use mincing words about it. From the moment you’d woken up this morning, it had felt like the universe was conspiring against you. A cold shower, thanks to the hot water breaking yet again; facing what should be a criminal amount of traffic on your commute to work; and overall just a miserable shift full of difficult patients and unfriendly coworkers. It seemed like everyone had woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

And now, as this long day was finally coming to an end, there was one more problem to face.

“Crap, crap, crap, where did I park?” you muttered.

The parking lot was dark. It was raining - of course it was raining. And the result was that you had been unable to find your car for the last ten minutes, and were now soaked through to the bone.

You raised an arm to shield your eyes from the relentless downpour of water, and scanned over the cars in front of you, again. You could have sworn you’d parked in your usual spot, but you had been in such a rush from being late because of the traffic that you must have carelessly parked somewhere else and forgotten.

Just as you were about to give up and go back inside to call a cab, you spotted the silhouette of a familiar make and model. Well, somewhat familiar - it looked like the car was listing to one side, at an odd angle to the pavement. As you approached, you instantly saw why.

Two of your tires had been slashed. The front and rear left wheels were completely deflated, causing the car to lean down and scrape its metal rims on the asphalt. There was no way you could drive this home.

“You have got to be kidding me!” you yelled, frustration crumbling into the beginnings of a sob.

It had been hard to hold it together at work, but you were always careful to project a certain sense of stability in front of the patients, and you had done so today as well. But now, in the privacy of a parking lot crowded with cars but devoid of people, you allowed your walls to come down and a tear to escape the corner of your eye.

“Everything okay over here?” asked a voice behind you.

You spun around, suddenly self conscious, to find one of your colleagues, Dr. Jonathan Crane, standing a few feet away from you. It was hard to see the expression his eyes might have held, behind the glare of his glasses and the sheeting rain between you - but you imagined it must be pity. You probably looked like a soaked rat, standing here clutching your briefcase, clothes plastered against you from the rain. Meanwhile, Crane was perfectly dry under an umbrella, his suit crisp and well-fitting as usual.

“I… no,” you admitted. “Some asshole slashed my tires.”

Crane had taken a few steps toward you, and now was holding out the umbrella to you. It wouldn't do much good at this point; you were already completely drenched and shivering. But you appreciated the gesture. You took the handle he offered, freezing cold fingers brushing against his for just a moment.

“Let me take a look,” Crane offered.

You wanted to tell him to not bother. That the damage was done, and there was no reason for him to get soaked, too, when at this point all that could remedy the situation was to call a cab. But before you had the chance to say anything, Crane was already stepping out from under the umbrella and leaning down to examine your front tire.

He kicked it with the toe of his fancy leather shoe a few times. Seemed to consider something with his hand to his chin for a moment. And then turned back to you and held his hand out for the umbrella. You gave it to him.

“Doesn't look like you'll be able to patch that up,” he confirmed.

You had already known that, but resisted the urge to tell him so. He was just trying to be helpful; you weren’t going to snap at him.

“Do you have any other way to get home?”

You shook your head.

“The bus line that goes by my apartment has been out of service for weeks. Something about an investigation,” you told him. “They found chemicals or a potential bomb or something. I don't even know. Just my luck, I guess.”

Crane’s voice had a soft lilt of amusement as he responded, or maybe it was just in your imagination.

“Sounds like Gotham for you,” he said.

For the first time, you looked up at his face. Crane wasn't particularly tall, but he had an imposing presence all the same. It was his intelligence - obvious from the moment you stepped in the same room as him - and his eyes - a hollow, piercing blue even behind his glasses - that gave him an air of authority. You were familiar with him as a colleague, but hadn't spent much time actually working with him. He was the Head of Psychiatry at Arkham, and you were one of the general physicians on staff. There wasn't a great amount of overlap in what you did. Crane made policies and studied the patients’ minds. You just tried, desperately at times, to keep them from succumbing to outbreaks of lice and flu.

As he looked back down at you now, you felt oddly comforted by Crane’s presence. He was intimidating, yes, but he also seemed to hold real interest in your predicament. Like he was concerned about what would happen to you, a coworker he barely knew and probably hadn't said more than a dozen words to before this. You recalled something - just an aimless piece of gossip - that you had heard from one of your nurses a few weeks ago.

“Crane is such an unbelievable creep,” she’d said.

He didn't seem creepy to you. A little awkward, maybe, coming to play the white knight and offer his opinions on a car tire that you could clearly tell needed to be replaced. But friendly; kind. It felt like he was your first piece of good luck all day.

“Tell you what,” Crane said, lowering his head to yours just a bit so as to be heard over the rain. “My apartment isn't too far from here. Why don't I drive you there, and you can dry off and change into some clean clothes while I call a tow?”

Gratitude flowed through you. Okay, you decided, he could play the white knight if he wanted to. If pretending that chivalry wasn't dead meant you could get out of this awful rain, you would take it. Still, part of you felt bad for making him go out of his way.

“Are you sure?” you asked. “I wouldn't want to trouble you.”

“It's really no trouble at all,” Crane assured you.

He motioned for you to walk with him, and set off toward a dark corner of the parking lot. You trailed alongside him, eager to stay under the shelter of his umbrella.

Crane’s apartment felt strangely secluded. It was quiet; with none of the usual bustle of other people coming and going, having arguments over dinner, smoking on the patios. No neighbors, Crane explained to you. He had the fourth floor all to himself, for the time being, due to renovations in the other two apartments. You weren't sure what they could possibly be renovating. The whole apartment building was spotless and modern; expensive-looking in a way that told you Crane had a lot of money. More money than anyone who worked at Arkham Asylum should have, considering the paltry wages they paid. But, you weren't about to judge; maybe he just came from a wealthy family.

“Would you like some tea?” Crane asked, shrugging out of his damp suit jacket and running a hand through his hair.

“Sure. Thank you.”

Crane filled a kettle with water, took two mugs out of a cupboard, and dropped two tea bags into them.

“Hope chamomile is okay,” he said, as he set the kettle to boil. Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “Let me get you some dry clothes. Wait right there.”

And with that, he disappeared into one of the rooms.

You took a quick survey of the space around you. It was bright in the kitchen, but in a strangely clinical way that reminded you more of an operating room than a place drenched in sunlight. Maybe that's what they were renovating in the other apartments. For all the expensive amenities this place seemed to offer, harsh white fluorescents seemed an odd choice.

Crane reappeared with a few items in his hands.

“Nothing fancy,” he explained, “but these should fit you. And here’s a towel if you need it.”

He offered what he was holding, and you took it. The logo on the t-shirt was for the Gotham PD. Strange. As far as you knew, Crane wasn’t connected with the police. It seemed a bit odd for him to have this shirt, but you didn’t question it too much. You didn’t really know him well at all, you reminded yourself. Who could say what he got up to in his free time?

“Guest room is down the hall and on the left,” he told you.

You thanked him and shuffled away to get cleaned up. You were dripping onto the linoleum of his kitchen floor, and you felt bad, again, for all the trouble you were causing. Crane surely had his own errands and hobbies to get to after a long day at work, and they almost certainly didn’t include looking after his errant coworkers. You smiled to yourself. Maybe after all this was over, you could do something nice to thank him.

Crane’s shirt was only a little bit too big on you. He’d given you a pair of lounge pants as well. It was hard to imagine Crane wearing anything like this, even in his free time. He was always so well put-together in his suits and ties. Even though you mostly only passed him in the hallways, it was hard not to notice someone who so clearly took pride in appearances.

As you reentered the kitchen, Crane snapped his phone shut. He looked up from where he was sitting at the table, one mug of steaming tea in front of him and the other at the chair perpendicular to his. He smiled, and you took your seat.

“Tow truck is on its way,” Crane told you. “It’s all taken care of. Drink your tea and then I can drive you home.”

“Thank you… again,” you said. “I really feel bad that you’re doing all this. What do I owe you for the tow?”

“Don’t worry about it. Nothing.”

Crane waved a hand. He was still in his dress shirt, but had rolled up the sleeves. You noticed for the first time how muscular his arms were. Not absurdly so, but more like the tense, lean muscle of a jungle cat. He still wore his tie, but reached up to loosen it a bit.

“Drink up,” Crane continued. “It was cold out there. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

You raised the mug to your lips. Crane watched you, maybe just a little too intently, and you suddenly understood the nurse’s comment about him. He did have a disconcerting quality, just below his carefully curated surface. But still, he had been nothing but nice, and so what if he was a little socially awkward? The tea passed smoothly over your lips; the perfect temperature, but still hot enough to warm your throat.

“Delicious,” you commented. It felt like the warm tea was snaking its way through your body, mending aching joints that you hadn’t even realized were tense until now. “What did you put in this?”

Crane’s expression didn’t waver as he answered you.

“Just tea… some sugar…”

It almost seemed like he was about to say more, but didn’t.

“Just sugar?” you asked.

You took another sip. The flavor was unlike any tea you’d had before; there was a complexity to it that you couldn’t put your finger on. A sweetness that somehow tasted different than usual.

Crane smiled, and said nothing. He took a sip of his own tea, carefully replacing the mug when he was finished.

A rumble of thunder shook through the apartment, and you jumped in your seat.

“Afraid of storms?” Crane asked. Casually, but with a glimmer of interest.

“Not really,” you replied, embarrassed. “Just a little jumpy, I guess.”

You took another long gulp of your tea. The mug was already half empty, and you could still feel the warm liquid soothing you. You were getting more relaxed by the minute. Strangely so. And something else was happening, too. A flutter in the very bottom of your stomach; like you were back in middle school at your first co-ed dance, building up the trembling courage to talk to a boy you liked. You looked up from your mug at Crane, to see that he was staring intensely at you.

“Um, I’m sorry,” you began, not quite sure where you were going with the sentence. “I’m just…” “Feeling okay?” Crane asked.

There was concern in his voice, but his tone didn’t match the expression on his face. He was rapt; observing you like a rat in a maze. Like he was trying to read what was going on behind your eyes, which now felt like they were bugging out of your head.

“I…”

A new sensation rippled through your body, ending in a sharp pang right between your legs. You gasped, and your eyes went even wider. With shaking fingers, you reached out toward the mug in front of you.

“What the hell did you put in this?” you whispered.

Crane ignored your question. Your heart was pounding as he dragged his chair closer to you, leaning in so that his blue eyes were level with yours.

“What are you seeing?” Crane asked. “Rats, spiders? Does the room look normal to you?”

“What??”

He wasn’t making sense. You didn’t understand his words - and yet, you did, because as you looked around the room, it did seem to swirl in front of you. The bright fluorescent lighting took on an impossibly harsh tone, making shadows appear in all of the far-off corners. They started creeping closer to you, darkening the sides of your vision.

“Snakes are a pretty popular one,” Crane continued, his voice now clinical. “Do you see snakes?”

What was he talking about? Rats, spiders, snakes? Either this apartment needed way more renovations than you’d thought, or Crane had lost his mind.

“I don’t know what you’re- ah!”

You were cut off mid sentence as another wave of something moved through you. Horrified, you finally recognized what it was. Desire.

Crane seemed to realize it at the same moment, watching you miserably cross and squeeze your legs.

“Fascinating…”

His eyes trailed over you almost lazily as he took in your whole, writhing body. You weren’t sure how you had managed to stay in your chair this long. As whatever had been in the tea took hold of you, your heart raced faster and faster, and you felt an ever-building need to be touched. By yourself, by anyone. Even… The idea of it repulsed you, but that didn’t stop the want.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Crane observed. “Tell me: do you have a fear of intimacy, or does being afraid just turn you on?”

You wanted to spit insults at him and tell him to fuck off. But you were immobilized by a pressure that seemed to squeeze all the air out of your lungs. You had never felt such pure terror before. Your body was too hot; a weightless, flaming heat pulsed through your every limb. And woven through all of it was that gnawing, primal hunger that started deep inside of you and seemed to try and claw its way out.

Crane sat calmly across from you. He took off his glasses and folded them neatly in front of him on the table. His eyes shined with something that looked like lunacy; ten times brighter now, without the thin pane of glass obscuring them.

“Based on the way that you don’t seem to be bothered by anything else… I’m going to assume it’s the first one,” he said.

It infuriated you that he was right. You’d had bad experiences with intimacy, and they had shaped you into a woman who was fearful of her own sexuality. You had no idea what Crane had spiked your drink with. But whatever it was, it was bringing those fears to the forefront of your mind; forcing you to face them instead of pushing them down deep - where they belonged, you thought bitterly. You couldn't ignore the arousal that creeped through you, clouding your mind even as it terrified you. And the worst part of all of this was that Crane was here to watch. There was, ironically, no greater intimacy than fear. Your fear was the most personal, private part of you.

You took a deep breath, and pushed up from your chair, hands still shaking as you braced them against the table. You were going to get out of here, you promised, even if you had to do it through clenched teeth.

“Impressive,” Crane remarked. “You’re actually trying to fight through it.”

He stood up, easily, and hovered next to your hunched form. You looked up at him, trying to force as much hatred into your eyes as you could, despite the intense pain and arousal that wracked your body. With great difficulty, you stood up straight to face him. It felt like you were about to pass out, but you stood your ground.

“I really don’t know where you think you’re going, though,” Crane said calmly. “I’m not even close to being done with you yet.”

Just as you were wondering what he could possibly mean by that, Crane's lips came crashing into yours. You let out a muffled cry - half of shock, but half, to your ever-growing horror, of need. You mewled against his mouth, disgusted with yourself, but unable to stop. Your eyes were blown wide. Crane’s were closed, his brows furrowed almost in concentration, as he wrapped his arms around you.

When Crane finally broke the kiss, you could feel your lips starting to bruise. He smiled wickedly down at you.

“I’m going to have a lot of fun with you,” he growled. “Does that bother you?” The drug - whatever it was - still had a powerful hold on you. But you could feel yourself slowly regaining control of some of your faculties. Probably, you could have answered him. Still, you refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing that, yes , what he'd said had terrified you.

“Well, it should,” Crane replied to your silence. His tone was still clinical, almost detached, as he continued. “You’re going to do whatever I want you to, or else this is going to get a lot worse for you. Do you understand?”

You didn’t want to answer him, but something within you was starting to slip. You were losing the fight to stave off your own submission. You nodded.

“Good.” Crane kept smiling at you, his eyes now blazing. “You know, I think you like it when I’m mean to you.”

You hated the way that your thighs clenched around his words. The way you could feel the blood rush to your clit. You were practically throbbing.

“That’s good for me to know,” Crane continued. “But maybe not so good for you.”

You yelped as he lifted you up, forcing you to straddle his waist. Crane was a lot stronger than he looked. Outside, the storm continued to rage; you could hear the rain roaring against the windows.

“I have to say, I really didn’t expect things to go like this,” Crane said as he carried you through the apartment. You were heading down the hallway, but not into the guest room you had been in earlier. “I’m usually not the type to put out on a first date,” he joked. Suddenly, you were thrown down, landing roughly on what felt like a bed. “And I doubt you are either. You know… considering…”

As you lay on the bed looking up at him, Crane pulled at his tie and took it off, throwing it down next to you. Next came his belt. He untucked his shirt and started to work on the buttons, his hands moving nimbly down the front of his body. He wore no undershirt, and you hated yourself for staring at the way his bare chest peeked out from behind the fabric. Leaving his white shirt on but unbuttoned, he climbed onto the bed to hover over you.

“But I think we can make an exception just this once - don’t you?” His lips hovered inches away from your ear, and you could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

The rage that you felt momentarily pushed aside the fear that was still swirling inside of you. Scrambling to grab at the moment, you pushed his body with all of your might, trying to throw him off you.

You might as well have been pushing against a brick wall. Crane stayed exactly where he was, chuckling as he shrugged your hand off.

“Oh, honey,” he said, his voice full of pity. “I like it when you fight.”

He kissed you again, even more roughly than before. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip, and you swore you could taste blood. You thrashed below him, trying to kick out but unable to because of how tightly his body was pressed to yours. You scratched at his back, but that only made him moan greedily. Out of other options, you tried to bring your hands to his throat.

“Oh.” Crane broke away from you, just slightly, enough to snatch your hands away and slam them against the bed. “So that’s what you’re into. You can just use your words, you know; I want this to be good for you, too.”

With one hand keeping both of yours pinned, Crane brought his other hand down to your neck. Your eyes widened with fear, and he seemed to drink in your desperation. Frozen, you willed yourself to fight back, but couldn’t. Crane’s fingers ghosted over the soft skin of your neck for a moment as he looked at you.

With a wicked smile, his hand clamped down on your throat. Your vision was already clouded from whatever drug he had slipped to you, and now the sides of it seemed to close in, trapping you in your own body as his hand tightened. It wasn’t enough to actually hurt you, but the panic it caused made your heart rate spike more than you would have thought possible. You felt your pulse thump against his fingers. You squeezed your eyes shut and started to breathe quickly, in short, desperate gasps. Crane’s hand that was holding your wrists in place came down to tug at the hem of your pants.

“Shhh,” he soothed. “Breathe through it and focus on me.” His voice, gentle but commanding, was in stark contrast to the way his hands hungrily moved over you. You opened your eyes to see his cool blue ones staring back at you. He had somehow wrestled you out of your pants - the ones he had given you less than twenty minutes ago - dragging your underwear down along with them, and you lay beneath him in nothing but your borrowed shirt, tears streaming down the sides of your face.

“You’re so pretty like this,” Crane said, one hand still on your neck. The fingers of his other hand started to trace small patterns on your hip. “Scared, such a mess, crying for me. Sorry if I cum too quick; it’s just hard not to get riled up when you’re like this.”

Crane unzipped his pants and pushed them down to his thighs. You didn’t want to look at him, but you could feel him pressing against the inside of your leg. He was clearly enjoying this.

You let out a choked sob, and Crane’s smile grew. He was pressing against your entrance, threatening to take you at any moment he wanted.

“You’re wet,” he commented. “You’re actually turned on by this.”

No, you told yourself. No, you weren’t; it was just the drug he had given you. Some kind of fucked up aphrodisiac that was making your body function independently from your mind. You didn’t want this. But then, why did you feel such a rush every time his hands brushed against you?

“Fear is exhilarating, isn’t it?” Crane said quietly, still hovering just on the edge of penetrating you. “Some people find it addictive. Seems like you might be one of them.” He let out a short laugh as he pressed just a bit more into you, inch by devastating inch. “It makes the mind so malleable,” he continued. “Just think: less than an hour ago, you were so afraid and alone that you agreed to come with me - a man you barely know - back to my apartment, alone. That was a bad choice. I’m sure you realize that now. But in that moment, you were so pathetic and vulnerable, I think I probably could have gotten you to do anything.”

You tried not to listen to him; to block his words out. This wasn’t your fault. He was your coworker - a senior member of the staff, for fuck’s sake. You should have been able to trust him. But you had, and look where it had gotten you.

“Now here you are,” Crane continued. You realized with a gasp that he was fully inside of you. “Still just a scared little girl, shaking in my bed. Crying her eyes out.”

“No,” you said weakly, tears still streaming down your face. “No, no, no…”

Crane removed his hand from your neck, and placed his elbows on either side of you, caging you within his arms.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like this,” he spat. “I feel you clenching around me. Maybe I was wrong; maybe it is just being scared that gets you off.”

Now that your hands were free, you brought them to grip at his shirt collar, trying again desperately to push him off. You tried to wriggle away from him, but all that did was make Crane moan at the friction and laugh at your struggling.

“Slow down, honey,” he warned you, his voice thick with sex. “I already warned you how fast you’re gonna make me cum.”

One of his hands found your hip, stopping you and holding you in place. Once he had you submissive again, Crane started to move his hips in slow circles, relishing the feel of you. Despite yourself, you arched your back and grabbed at the sheets with your fingers. He felt good. A fresh round of tears sprang to your eyes as you moaned loudly.

“That’s it,” Crane praised. “Cry for me. Beg me to stop, hit me, scratch me - it doesn’t matter. None of it changes the fact that you’re enjoying this.”

Again, you hated him for being right. Even through the fear - even knowing how horrible what he was doing to you was - somehow, you only wanted more. The room swirled around you, shadows creeping in on your vision again.

You gasped as Crane’s thumb found your clit. You had been on the edge of an orgasm practically since Crane’s drug had entered your system, and it took everything in you to fight the feeling that was building as he pressed on your most sensitive spot.

“Don’t be shy,” Crane pushed. “You can rub yourself against me; pull my hair if you want. Whatever you need to get off. I want to feel you cum on my cock.”

You hated Crane. You hated him so much - for what he was doing to you, for how he was enjoying it, and most of all for how he was making you powerless to fight against the pleasure. Making your own body a traitor against you. It was obscene and embarrassing and terrifying. With a flash of passion, you reached up and slapped him across the face.

“Ohhhhh, fuck,” he growled.

It was the first time you’d heard him swear, and the realization sent a new heat pooling between your legs. Crane, usually so organized and meticulous, was starting to come apart.

“You have no idea how good you’re making this for me,” Crane teased. A few strands of hair, slick with sweat, were sticking against his forehead. “You’d better be careful, or I’m not gonna be able to pull out of you in time.”

You cried out, half in frustration and half because of the way his thumb was still brushing against you with every shallow thrust of his hips. Everything you tried to do to him only spurred him on more. Your face contorted in anguish, eyes staring up at the ceiling as an orgasm finally ripped through you.

Crane was babbling in your ear - god, he never shut up. You weren’t even paying attention; too focused on your own private nightmare that was unfolding but never seeming to end. You bucked against his hand, involuntarily pushing his cock deeper, and heard him utter a breathless curse.

“Shit.”

When you were conscious of your body again, the first thing you noticed were the wet ropes of cum squirting across your breasts. You still wore Crane’s t-shirt, and the damp fabric pressed against your skin as Crane rutted into his hand above you. Disgusting. He was so depraved. So unbelievably fucking creepy. So hot.

You shook your head. That was just the drug talking. Crane flopped down on the bed next to you, smiling. Pleased with himself. It made you shudder. He let out a satisfied breath.

“Well, again, not what I was expecting,” Crane grunted, sitting up to balance on one elbow as he looked at you. “But I’m certainly not complaining.”

His blue eyes looked at you, making you squirm under the intensity. Without warning, he pinched your chin between his fingers and held you in place for a long, horrifically sensuous kiss.

“I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun together.”

Outside, thunder crashed again, and you jumped.

#jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #jonathan crane smut #LemmyFics

722 notes · View notes

your-nanas-house · 11 months ago

Note

erm methinks the reader snaps and k words someone and jonathan finds it hot and just nasty smut after the fact like these ppl are freaks!

Love it, baby!!! 💓

Not so innocent after all

◇ Pairing: Psychiatrist!Jonathan Crane x patient fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, dry humping, Jonathan being a sick perv, bad writing, DUB-CON, him rubbing Y/n's clit, murder, asylum, bad guards, innocent reader

◇ Summary: Jonathan's favorite patient acts out and he finds it quite arousing.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

Jonathan was busy in his office, focused on some papers he had to fill out about his patients when fast and violent knocks were heard from his door, which flew open before hitting the wall behind it creating even more noise.

"Dr. Crane, a patient of yours is misbehaving" a guard quickly informed him, a bit allarmed, thing that Jonathan didn't understand at all since this things happened normally in the asylum— that's why his focus remained on the sheets, his voice calm and not really interested

"Really now?" He asked, looking at the guard just when he shared the number of the patient.

It sounded pretty weird for him, since the patient associated with that number was a young woman that he started to work with nearly 2 years ago and who was one of the most calm and quiet inmates that he ever met.

Jonathan put the notebook down, thinking on alll the possibilities that could have made his favourite patient act up.

It hadn't happened not even once in all the years she'd been locked up there.

"Where is she?" Joanthan asked the guards sounding slight concern

"They are in the cafeteria" one of the guards quickly replied, accepting to escort him there together with his colleague.

As soon as they arrived they quickly rushed inside to help the other guards to try to stop her from attacking the almost death inmate on the floor— but when Jonathan indicated them to move away with his hands they all made some space for him so that he could intervene.

Crane hurried after taking mental notes of her behaviour.

His voice was calm as he spoke and approached his patient

"Hey, hey, hey....Y/n" he whispered, grabbing in a quick motion the patient’s arms, pulling them away from the inmate with ease, blocking them behind her back.

She was panting heavily, her body kept trying to squirm away from the grip as if she was a caged animal— Jonathan kept her there though, flat against the cold floor as he whispered thing in a calming way, till she started to relax.

Her whole body got still, her breath became slower when Jonathan's hand moved to her hair to stroke it softly, his hips pressing flat against her ass providing little friction to his painful boner which he weirdly got as soon as he saw her kill that man.

"Sshh, that's a good girl" Jonathan whispered, letting her slowly go when he noticed that she was fully calm

"I bring you to you room, come" he helped her up and started to walk out with the guards, followed by Y/n who was walking cutely, her head low as her hand grabbed Jonathan's.

As soon as they reached the cell, Dr. Crane made sure that they would have been alone, no guards, no inmates or anyone else— just him and her.

This way he could let out the urges he was keeping inside without any problems.

His icy stare remained on Y/n as he waved elegantly his hand towards the three guards that escorted them, looking at them briefly just to be able to manipulate and convince them that nothing was wrong and he could be trusted alone with Y/n, he wouldn't be in any danger— after all he knew better than anyone else his own patients.

It didn't took much to make the guards leave, but Jonathan waited a couple of minutes to make sure that they were really alone, before entering the cell and closing carefully the iron door behind him.

Y/n was giving him her back, since she was trying to go back to her comfort zone— thing that became quite difficult as soon as she felt the manly hand of her psychiatrist cover her mouth, his slender fingers pressing painfully against the soft skin of her cheeks.

Her body completely froze in shock and worry, she didn't dare to fight or say anything since all the bells that should have rang in her head to alert her of danger weren't working since she started to take the meds that Jonathan prescribed her.

Deep down Y/n knew that it was wrong, even if it felt nice— even if the smoothing and low voice of Dr. Crane kept whispering in her ear that everything was alright, that she was safe with him and that she could relax— she really could relax since it felt so good.

His pale slender fingers rubbing against her clothed clint like she imagined many times before, in the dark of her cell as she dry humped her own pillow like the naughty and needy girl that she was— she could also feel his now bare cock rubbing against her from behind.

Y/n, now laying down on her bed, was resting her head on her arms as Jonathan lowered in a quick motion her Arkham asylum uniform pants, to reveal her innocent white panties to him.

His finger didn't stopped rubbing against her tiny nerve, not even when he pulled slightly up her underwear to show more of her round firm ass so that he could now rest his leaking and rock hard cock between her cheeks— humping her like an animal in heat.

"Such a good girl, darling" Dr. Crane praised, moving his hand inside her panties to check her wetness like the perv he was being, spreading it back up on her clit to rub tiny circles in a faster pace— his hips still moving fast as he tried to reach his own peak while he bit his bottom lip, hearing the small noises she was making under him.

It didn't take him much, a couple of thrusts and he was shooting his load, with a low moan and small praises, all over her back and ass, wetting her cute panties with his seed.

Fuck, he needed her to act out more often, he thought.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj, @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover, @slasher-smasher, @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

#jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane oneshot #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane cillian murphy #jonathan crane x y/n #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy fic #cillian fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x reader

557 notes · View notes

paradiseprincesss · 7 months ago

Text

espresso | jonathan crane

this was my first fic ever...bare with me lol.

summary: a meet cute that turns into domestic life with our beloved dr. crane.

warnings: swearing, slight implied age gap (reader is in her early 20's, jonathan is late 20's), fluff

word count: 2.1k

masterlist

as the rain continued to pour down from the sky onto the city of gotham, you sat in the bedroom of your apartment in your favourite pyjamas, phone in hand as you gushed to your friend about the encounter you had today.

"i swear, it was some meet cute situation straight out of a romance movie," you say over the phone, giggling, "holy shit, he was so cute though, but yeah - that's how he asked me out."

you were telling your friend about how earlier in the day, you so happened to bump into a very handsome stranger at your favourite coffee shop - well, technically, he bumped into you. as you were turning around to walk out of the coffee shop, iced coffee in hand, you suddenly gasped at the feeling of hot coffee spilling on your sundress.

"jesus, im sorry-" you heard a flustered voice say, and you quickly look up to find a handsome, tall, dark haired stranger, with eyes so blue you could still get lost in them through the glasses he was wearing. he was reaching over to grab napkins off the counter, and awkwardly tried to pat the coffee off your dress.

you laughed softly, and shook your head while taking the napkins from his grasp and tried to get the remnants of coffee off yourself, "mistakes happen," you softly assure the stranger while doing so.

after a few moments of fumbling around with napkins together, you tossed them aside into the trash, and he spoke to you again.

"i apologize, i've had quite the morning, and i was not looking where i was going, are you alright?" he asks, and you lock eyes again. god, he was actually gorgeous.

"i'm alright, it's okay," you assured him once more, "i get it, we all have days like that." you say softly, with a little smile, noticing his suit and tie.

he looks at you quietly for a moment, seemingly taking you in, before gently speaking again, "i'm sorry, i'm not usually this brash or forward by any means, but are you seeing anyone?"

you stare at him with surprise for a moment, before responding to him with a slight blush dusting your cheeks, "...no uh, i'm not, why? tryna ask me out on a date or something?" you quipped, suddenly feeling a little bold.

"i am, yeah. how about you give me your number and i'll take you out to dinner sometime this week?" he casually asks you, and you stared at him surprised again - this handsome stranger (who, by the way, just spilled coffee on you?!), was asking you out on a date...how could you say no?

"oh, um, yes, okay. yeah." you say, slightly flustered, as he pulls his phone out and gives it to you so that you could add in your contact information. after you gave him your number, you smiled softly at him as he spoke to you again.

"i'll text you, sound good?" he asks, casually again, which makes your heart leap for some reason, and all you could do was nod, as you made your way out of the coffee shop with your iced coffee.

and that's how you ended up on the phone with your friend gushing about the event that unfolded earlier on in your day.

"maybe he's the one." your friend teased, with a giggle.

"could you imagine?" you say back, laughing.

"and it was the worst hangover of my life." you joked, a glass of your favourite wine in hand as you looked at the man across the fancy restaurant table from you.

"i haven't been hungover since college." he laughed along with you, looking at you with a smile.

you we're on a date with the man who had spilled his coffee onto you, who you learned was jonathan crane; the chief psychiatrist at arkham asylum. you told him your name, and what you were currently majoring in. with the car he picked you up in and with the restaurant he took you to for the first date, you were already falling, quickly too. clearly, he had a taste for the finer things in life.

after a few more drinks, and good food, the two of you continued on talking as if you had known each other forever. then, the two of you headed out, and he drove you back home to your apartment. as he pulled up to your apartment complex, he parked his car and insisted that he walk you up to the front doors of the building. what a gentleman, you thought.

as you got to the front of the complex building, you turned around to thank him, and he smiled softly at you.

"yeah, of course,” he says with a pause and then he sighs, “god, you’re so beautiful.” he whispers softly, taking his hand, tracing your jawline and cupping your face softly, and before you knew it - you were leaning into his touch, and you felt his lips on yours.

"i can't stop thinking about you, i miss you." he sighs to you, over the phone.

jonathan was stuck working late again at arkham asylum, and yet he still he still made time to call you, just to hear your voice once more. the two of you had been dating for a few months now, and you'd never been with someone before who treated you with such love and adoration.

you stared at the vase of red roses on your table, which he brought to you weekly because he 'knows they're your favourite', as he always said, and you smiled to yourself softly.

"i miss you more." you said dreamily over the phone.

there was silence on his end for a moment, before he eventually sighed and spoke again, "you don't have class tomorrow, right?"

you smile to yourself again, knowing he usually followed this up by asking to see you or something along those lines, "...no."

"can i see you?"

your heart leaped at those four words you loved to hear, "yeah, of course. come over?"

again, he was silent for a moment - almost as if he was lost in thought. you didn't blame him, working late at an asylum was tiring. after a few moments, he still didn't say anything, and you spoke into your phone again, softly, "jon?"

"you should move in with me. i dunno, just a thought..." he trails off, suddenly speaking up again.

you felt your cheeks heat up at the thought of actually living with him, moving in. "...why not?" you say, with a breathless laugh.

"let's discuss tomorrow, i'll drive to yours around noon, but i have to get back to work," he sighed, "i love you."

i love you, you could never get tired of hearing those words come out of his mouth, "okay, i love you too, jon. see you tomorrow."

and with that, you hung up - giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush. jonathan was whipped for you; he was wrapped around your finger, and you loved it. you knew he was thinking of you and you only every night, every day, 24/7 really.

jonathan wrapped his arms around you, hugging you from behind as you cooked dinner in the kitchen.

"missed you at work today." he softly says, placing a soft kiss behind your ear, and a few more down your neck, making you giggle.

"my mind kept wandering to you during class today," you confess, feeling his arms stay put around you, "dinner should be ready in around 15 minutes."

"theres fresh roses on the table for you, darling. got them on my way home from work for you, appreciate you making dinner, you didn't have to." he tells you, kissing your cheek before unwrapping his arms from you, as he made his way out of the kitchen.

feeling content and loved, you sigh happily to yourself, finishing up your cooking. after dinner, the two of you sat cuddled up on the couch together, watching some show on netflix you were currently binging. as you stayed there, snuggled up in his arms, you felt him take a gentle hold of your hand, and his thumb brushed over the diamond ring on your finger.

oh right - the diamond engagement ring that he had proposed to you with just after your two-year anniversary. he had put in so much effort, taking you away for a weekend vacation, where he surprised you with a hotel room littered with rose petals and candles. he told you how much he loved you; how he just adored you and couldn't see himself living a life without you in it.

he gave you his heart, and you gave him yours. he knew after you found out about him being scarecrow, and you were actually okay with it, that he was going to make you mrs. crane.

it's funny, really, you didn't mean to find out, but jonathan was working suspiciously late for the last couple weeks, and your mind automatically went to the worst; an affair.

however, after doing some snooping around (you pulled a joe goldberg, obviously, and started following him around when he said he was at "work"), only to find out that he was in fact not having an affair, but just fear gassing people around gotham in what appeared to be a burlap scarecrow mask of some sort. phew!

a part of you knew that this was indeed fucked up, but i mean hey, he wasn't cheating, and he treated you so good, we all look past certain things for the people we love, right?

when he came home one night around 3 am, he found you waiting in the living room of your shared apartment, arms crossed and a pout on your pretty face.

"you scared me! i thought you were cheating on me. next time just tell me if your...doing whatever your doing with that toxin stuff you create at work." you exclaimed at him, looking cute as ever while doing so.

he was silent for a moment - shocked, actually. he didn't know what shocked him more, the fact that you thought he would ever betray you like that with another woman or that you didn't care about his secondary...job.

"...darling, i can't tell if your being satire or not." he says cautiously, taking a few steps closer to you on the couch.

"i'm really not." you roll your eyes, and huff.

jonathan was silent again, before laughing softly and shaking his head, coming over to wrap his arms around you, his voice low and gentle.

"i love you but-"

"i followed you." you say quickly, knowing that he was going to say something along the lines of 'but how did you find out?'

he gives you loving look, and smiles softly at you. he says nothing and instead, just pulls you into a deep kiss, in which you happily return.

"you're crazy, you know that?" he whispers against your lips, and you give him a look.

"and you're not?" you quip, and he's suddenly dragging you to your shared bedroom, hands all over your body.

"shhh." he whispers, peppering kisses all over your neck as he pushes you back on the bed.

looking at your husband with a doting expression, you sigh contently, iced coffee in hand. the both of you had the day off, and you both decided to start the day with a cute morning coffee date.

as he puts his cup of black coffee down, he takes your hand in his, and smiles softly at you.

"we should go on vacation again soon, i need a fucking break from work." he says, and you knew work had been exhausting him recently - no, not his actual job, he was talking about his other job, you know the one where he goes around terrorizing gotham.

"d'wanna go to mexico?" you ask, suggesting your favourite vacation spot, and he nods, holding your hands tighter.

"wherever you want to go, we'll go." he says gently, thumb brushing over your ring.

as you were about to say something back to him, his arm almost knocked his cup of coffee over.

"watch your arm - don't want espresso all over me again." you tease, smiling softly at your husband.

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #dr jonathan crane #cillian fic #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x y/n #cillian x reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x y/n #jonathan crane x f!reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy imagine #Spotify

337 notes · View notes

pinguwrites · 1 year ago

Text

You Set My Soul Alight | Jonathan Crane

Pairing -> sub!jonathan crane x villain!reader

Summary -> You and Jonathan Crane have always been at odds. He's an arrogant asshole and you're a sarcastic shit, and no matter what you always find a way to bump heads. The worst part about it is that deep down you find him brilliant and attractive and utterly intoxicating. One day, Crane comes to you with a plea to enticing to resist, and you find this the perfect opportunity to put him in his place.

Warnings -> smut (minors dni), enemies with feelings, sub!Jon acting like a brat, swearing, dom!reader, degradation kink, ma'am kink, unprotected sex, edging, hair pulling, ball slapping, slapping in general, if you squint real hard Jonathan's lowkey a little sexist, bruce wayne is a playboy, reader's kinda a simp

Word count: 5k

Disclaimer: The Dark Knight trilogy/DC characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Jonathan Crane glared at you, his piercing blue eyes filled with a layer of contempt and almost embarrassment like he was regretting this entire endeavor. It was delightful, seeing him in this state, and you made sure to enjoy every second of it — the way his cheeks were tinting a light pink, his muscles tensed up and his tone coming out a desperate yet still arrogant plea. Moments like these were rare, and you were ready to savor and drag them out every chance you got.

“I need your help,” he repeated, his tone distasteful like he was swallowing a bitter pill. “I told you, I need more money for my experiments, but I can’t do it without any funding. Wayne Enterprises is hosting a gala next week. All the richest of the city will be there and all of them are looking to donate. Charity, science, whatever will make them look good. I know you’re going, so I’m asking — as polite as I can be — please, get me an invite.”

You tilted your head to the side, eyes trailing off to look at some random painting on the wall. You briefly wondered how he got past your home security, but after a few seconds, you focused your attention back on him. “Sorry, what did you say? Can you repeat that?” you said with a slight grin.

Jonathan pursed his lips. “Don’t be clever with me.” But then he shakes his head and lets his serious facade go. “We both know you have the connections to score another invite . . . Please, my darling.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, the way it always did when he called you that. You wondered if he knew just how much you enjoyed it.

“I like it when you beg, it’s always been a good look on you.”

Jonathan smiles. A mock smile.

“Well, it’s true. No point in getting all upset.” You shrug, heading over to your kitchen to get some iced coffee for the both of you. “Tell me, why should I help you? Why should I help the man who has made it his mission to offend me every time we speak?”

You may have been a little unfair in saying that. Sure, he was a brat, but so were you. In fact, ever since you two met you had always been at each other’s throats, demeaning one another, insulting everything from intellect to personality to looks. You doubt your paths would have ever crossed had it not been for your good friend Harley, who introduced you both one fateful summer evening.

You don’t know what went wrong that day. Maybe it was the weather, the exceptionally hot wind that only frequented Gotham once every couple of years, the ones that made the city cranky and sweaty, or perhaps it was simply a bad first impression, the ones that just happened every once in a while. It had happened far too long ago to remember what it was that made you dislike Jonathan so much in the first place, and you were sure it didn’t matter. According to everyone who knew him, he had always been an ass, but he was good company once you got to know him.

Maybe he was. You wanted to figure that out, to peel away the layers of armor. You could be friends, lovers even. He could be yours. Yours to do whatever you wanted with. Yours to put in place, because god knows he needed it.

You weren’t sure when you started to think like this. To grow an obsession, but you did, and you couldn’t stop your feelings now. You didn’t want to stop. Loving Jonathan was too addictive, no matter how much he pretended to hate you — because you knew he didn’t actually hate you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t stop in once every while, under the pretense of snarky put-downs or brags. He wouldn’t graze his fingers with yours when walking by, and he wouldn’t ask your friends (namely Harley) what you did, what you liked, and what you talked about.

“Because deep down,” Jonathan answered, following you into the kitchen, “you know I’m brilliant, and you know I deserve your help.” He accepted the coffee, taking a small sip before continuing, “But you’re too prideful to admit it.”

“Maybe I am, but that’s not a good reason. Deserve isn’t enough, Crane. At least not for me. I know you can do better than this, convince me. That mouth must be good for something.”

Jonathan paused, his tongue briefly sweeping over his lower lip, making it glisten in the light of the lamp. You weren’t sure if the brief silence was because he got flustered, or he was just thinking. “Then do it because you want to,” he finally said. “Because you know my research is important and you care for it, enough to do me this one simple favor.”

“I don’t know . . .” you trailed off in a teasing tone.

It seemed like Jonathan was getting annoyed again. “My dear, won’t you help me?”

“I’m still thinking.”

He groaned. “Pretty please?”

You let out a little sigh, barely audible. “I will. For you.”

That last part had intended to come off as flirtatious and pretentious, but instead, it was soft and delicate, so vulnerable it took you off guard.

“Thank you,” he said, setting his glass down. He had finished all of the coffee, quickly enough so that there were still ice cubes lying on the bottom of the glass. “I’ll pick you up, around four. Who knows, maybe we’ll even have some fun.”

And that was it. He left through your front door without saying anything else, leaving you with thoughts of the gala and what dress you were going to wear.

That next week you had settled on one and bought yourself a burgundy dress, a beautiful shade of red, one like expensive wine or fresh blood, a color that you knew looked good on you. It was a deep cut that went through the valley of your breasts, but if you pressed your arms inwards just slightly, which you fully intended to do, they would push up. It was a look classy enough for a gala, but still seductive enough to garner attention.

Originally, you weren’t going to attend the function at all. This kind of stuff had always been boring for you, even as a child who was forced to go, but if Jonathan was going on your behalf then you sorta had to and definitely wanted to.

A ring sounded through your house. He was here.

You opened the door and took a deep breath once you saw Jonathan. He was dressed in a neat suit, but not like the suit he was wearing when you last saw him. This one was charcoal black, silky, and smooth, with a white handkerchief in his outer breast pocket. His shoes were the same color and looked like they had just been shined, and in his hand was a bouquet of red roses.

“For you,” he said, placing them in your hands. His eyes swept over your figure, and his mouth parted for a moment. “It matches.” You huffed, secretly flattered. “But it’s such a shame.” You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. “Such a pretty little dress wasted on such an ugly little thing.”

You blinked, and then tossed the flowers to the side, letting them fall into a patch of dirt (you were definitely going to pick them up later). “Like you’re such a piece of work.”

“I am,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Men and women love me.”

Despite how attractive you found him, you really didn’t believe that. You were sure his attitude warded most people off, and besides, he was an introvert and a criminal. Dating wasn’t just something people like him did often.

“We’ll see. This gala will be filled with attractive young bachelors. Get one interested in you and I’ll admit you're handsome,” you challenged.

“Admit?” He laughed, a beautiful laugh. “Admit implies that you already find me handsome, you just don’t want to confess so.”

This man needed to be slapped. He needed to be given a good, hard hit across the face.

“You know what? I feel like being alone tonight. I think I’ll just go to the gala without you.”

You were about to close the door, intending to head to your garage, but Jonathan grabbed your wrist and pulled you outside, shutting the door behind you.

“No takebacks. You promised. Where’s your honor?”

“Honor?” You scoffed. “I’m a killer, what did you expect?”

Jonathan must have really thought that you were going to leave because he gripped your wrist tighter. “I’m sorry,” he quickly said. “I’ll be good tonight.” He placed his index finger to his thumb with his free hand and made a zipping motion across his lips. “See?”

“You better be. I’m doing you a favor here. Now, come inside, we’ll take my car—”

“I have a car,” Jonathan said. “I even got us a driver.”

You took a peek over his shoulders. Sure enough, there was a fancy car waiting in the driveway, engine still on. It was difficult to see through the windows but you could make out the faint outline of a man in the driver’s seat.

“If you insist.”

He held out his arm for you to take, and while you did want to, you instead shoved it away. For a moment, you swore a flicker of hurt crossed his face, but it was gone too fast for you to be sure it was even there at all.

“Where’s my invite?” he asked.

“You don’t have one. You’re going as my plus one.”

“As your date?”

“It’s not a date. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy. What’s with all this complaining?”

“I’m not complaining, I was expressing my feelings. You should work on that. As a psychiatrist, I recommend—”

“—I recommend you shut the fuck up.”

Jonathan put his hands up, surrendering, but he did so beaming.

It hadn’t taken too long to get to the party. Traffic was high as always, but time seemed to be flowing faster than ever, despite you and Jonathan staying silent.

When you arrived there was a line of cars. Wayne Manor, a building you had only been to twice before, was still as impressive as you remember. It was a collection of elegant architecture and stonework, with a large wooden entrance that opened up to a main hall. The size of the driveway and front lawn was a bit unnecessary, at least to you, but what else could you expect from old money?

After getting out of the car you were greeted by cameras and reporters, lights flashing in your eyes, but you didn’t bother with them.

Jonathan reached out his hand, and this time you did take it — but only because everyone was watching, and if you pushed him away it would have caused an unnecessary scene. Jonathan’s driver drove the car away for parking and you both walked inside.

The inside was spacious, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and people dressed classy, with gloves and diamond earrings, all mingling and chatting with each other about the stock market or their annoying ex-spouse or how it was such a bother when their vacation to Switzerland had to be canceled because of work. There was a tray of snacks and waiters walking around with luxurious drinks, something you immediately took advantage of.

“Thank you, sir,” you said politely, taking a glass of champagne, but before you could take a sip someone called out your name.

You turned around to see Bruce Wayne himself waving over to you, a boyish charm about him. He had two women on his arms, models or prostitutes, or both, you couldn’t tell, but they were drop-dead gorgeous.

Your parents did business with him, and as a result, you met him at a young age. You were never really buddy best friends, but you went to the same school and that was enough for him to invite you to all his parties and greet you as though you were a family friend.

“You know Bruce Wayne?” Jonathan whispered, but before you could answer Bruce approached you both.

“I haven’t seen you around in a while,” he said. “This is Mila and Stephanie. Say hi ladies.” They giggled and waved as he gave the back of your hand a little kiss. “Gorgeous girl. You should wear these outfits more often, you truly look stunning.”

You let him put his arm around your waist, enjoying the compliment.

“Oh, no,” you said modestly. “It’s just a dress.”

Jonathan chuckles. “Ah, don’t be like that, my darling. You look exquisite.”

You all but glared at him. Now he said you looked nice.

“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” Bruce removed his arm from around your waist and held it out to shake Jonathan’s hand.

“Dr. Jonathan Crane,” he responded, a little tense. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne.”

“Jonathan’s actually doing some research into brain chemistry,” you said.

“Really? Tell me about it, Dr. Crane,” Bruce said, flashing a charming smile.

“I would,” Jonathan responded, turning to you, “but I don’t wanna bore my girl.”

“Your girl?” Bruce repeated, eyes glancing at you. “ You’re a lucky guy. Tell me how scored such a beauty like her?”

“Oh, it wasn’t that hard.” Jonathan reached around and put his hand on your shoulder. “She was practically falling all over me.”

That was true, but your jaw still clenched. “He likes to exaggerate,” you told Bruce with a little laugh.

“Well, if you ever want to change things up a little, I’m right here.” Bruce winked comically, leaving with his girls.

You could tell Bruce wasn’t joking. It sounded like a serious offer, only told in a joking format so as to not rile Jonathan up, as he was under the impression Jonathan was your actual boyfriend.

“You’re a jealous mongrel,” you told Jonathan once Bruce was out of sight. You both walked over to a more secluded corner. “Can’t imagine the idea of having to share, huh? Had to go and make up stories?”

Jonathan scowled. “He was shameless around you. Be grateful I warded him off,” he said arrogantly. “And it’s not like you guys would have worked out. With what your hobby and all.”

You didn’t say anything. Jonathan was jealous, huh? You know felt a sudden urge to go after Bruce, get a little drunk, and follow him back to his room. It’s not like he wasn’t handsome, he was the most eligible bachelor in the city. And you did like him. He was funny and nice. Plus, you two had known each other for a long while. What a fun trope, especially if it was making Jonathan mad.

“A good fuck needs to work out only for the night.” You shrugged.

“You—you can’t,” Jonathan sputtered out. “You’re here with me, not him.”

“I don’t see the problem. I got you in the door and now you don’t need me anymore. What’s wrong if I have some fun?”

“You can’t.”

You waved him off, though you were enjoying the way he was pouting.

“Brat,” you muttered under your breath.

“I’m not a brat.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Excuse me for wanting to spend the night with you.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?” You grinned devilishly. “Act like you want nothing more than to be here.”

Jonathan’s breathing hitched. Yours did too.

“You want it?”

“Don’t be scared.”

After you said that he didn’t hesitate to lean forward to give you a hard kiss, bringing his hand around the back of your head to push you both even closer together. He pulled away, his face still close to yours.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, like that,” you breathed out.

“I can give you more,” he whispered in your ear, his breath almost ticklish. “I know you want it. Been fantasizing about me all this time, hmm?”

You smiled coyly.

“For me to bend you over like the whore you are—”

“—Careful, Crane. I might just have to slap you.”

“Say it. Say you want me to fuck you. Fucking say it—”

You took a quick glance around the room to see if anyone was looking, which they thankfully weren’t, and then gave Jonathan a quick, harsh slap to the face.

The force of it made his neck turn, and his cheeks immediately turned red. He stayed silent for a moment, looking up at you through thick eyelashes, eyes narrowed in lust. It was all the conformation you needed to grab his chin, lift his face up, and give him another slap.

Before you could say anything else he pressed his lips up against you again, pressing you up against the wall passionately.

You backed away, and he furrowed his eyebrows, but all you did was grab his hand, feeling a frenzy of desire take over you. “Let’s go.”

You dragged him through the sea of people and out a backdoor. There were a couple of people walking around in the garden, but you managed to find a place secluded enough for you and Jonathan. The ground was grassy and soft, and no one was walking by. Even if they did, they’d have to be purposefully looking for you two to see you both behind the trees and flowers.

“Lay down,” you ordered.

He grinned but did as you asked. “Here? Outside? You’re such a naughty girl.”

“Do you wanna wait until we get home?”

“No,” he said, a little too eagerly. “I want it now.” He sat up and tugged on your dress, running his hand up your leg. “You’re so soft,” he murmured, planting a few wet kisses on your thigh.

You sighed contently, enjoying the affection he was giving you. This moment felt like a haze, like the world was just slipping by and you were stuck in time, a feeling that made you wonder if this was a dream or not. The evening sunset and dark sky weren’t helping either. It all felt perfect, too perfect.

“Mmm.” Jonathan reached up and hooked his fingers into your underwear. You snapped out of your trance and swatted his hand away.

“Getting a little touchy there, aren’t you?”

He smirked, looking up at you through thick eyelashes. “Just tryna please you, darling.”

You thought for a moment, then decided that you would let him eat you out.

“Alright then. Please me, Dr. Crane.”

Jonathan’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment at the name, savoring the way it rolled so delicately off your tongue. He lifted up your dress and pulled down your panties. You kicked them off to the side and rested your dominant leg on his shoulder.

He pushed his finger against your folds, making a humming sound. “You’re so wet, darling.”

He leaned forward to suck on your clit roughly.

You lightly gasped at the pleasant sensation, bucking your hips into his face accidentally. You had meant to show more control, but how could you when Jonathan was so hungrily lapping? burying his face into your pussy like he was starved, passionately alternating between licking and sucking.

“Oh, Jonathan.”

His fingers, which had been gripping your hips, moved upward. As he continued to press his tongue against your clit his finger gently prodded your entrance, making sure that you were ready. He pushed his finger, curling it slightly.

You stifled your moans, not wanting a passerby to catch you two in the act, but you were finding it difficult. He kept thrusting his finger in and out of you, adding another one just a minute later.

You threw your head back, eyes shut. You held his head for balance and relaxed, letting yourself go into a peaceful bliss. But then you felt Jonathan’s teeth nip your bud, biting into it deliberately, and you yelped.

Gripping his hair, you forced him to look at you. His mouth and nose were covered in your wetness, and his lips were curving up into a delightful smile.

“What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Mmm, I couldn’t help it, Ma’am.”

Instead of reprimanding him, you took the selfish route and pushed his face in between your legs, grinding onto his lips until you felt that familiar sense of elated happiness. You came all over him, your brain shutting off, or rather, getting overloaded at that euphoric, all-consuming release.

You let go of Jonathan’s hair, but he didn’t pull away. He licked up your cum, making your nerves feel overstimulated, but after he was satisfied, he stopped.

“You like that?” he asked.

“F-fuck, yeah.”

You grabbed your panties and put them back on, much to Jonathan’s dismay.

“Where are you going?” He got up, using his sleeve to wipe off the remaining juices on his face. You could see a tent, his cock poking out from under his pants.

“Home, of course. And you’re coming with me.”

He shook his head vehemently, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his hard cock against your body. “Let’s finish this here. I can’t wait any longer. Don’t make me wait.”

“If you’re a good boy, you’ll wait.”

“I can’t,” he bitched desperately, hurriedly pulling down his pants. “I won’t. I’ve waited too fucking long.”

You grabbed his cock through the fabric, squeezing it tight in his hands.

His face contorted to one of pleasure and pain. “Huh!”

“You think you can just get what you want? After you’ve such a dick? Oh, ‘she was practically falling all over me’. ‘Such a pretty little dress wasted on such an ugly little thing.’”

“C’mon, I didn’t mean it! You looked so beautiful, I was just trying to make you mad. Be nice . . . Pleaseee?”

You gripped it tighter and he whimpered. “See how pathetic you get the moment I show an ounce of authority? How you start to beg? If I say something you do it. Do you understand?” He didn’t say anything, his lips still parted in pain. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes!” he choked out.

You let go. “Good boy. Now go call your driver and ask him to pick us up ‘round back. Unless you want everyone to see your erection?”

You gestured to the front of the manor, where through the bushes you could still see people enjoying the party.

“No, no.” He called his driver, trying his best to cover his erection by interlocking his hands in front of his waist. “You’re a cruel goddess.”

While you two waited for the driver, you peppered sweet kisses along Jonathan’s neck, but when he arrived, you stopped, making him groan at the loss.

Throughout the drive back to your place, you ghosted your fingers over Jonathan’s lap, occasionally resting your hand on his length. Once the driver dropped you both off, you wasted no time in pushing him to your room.

He took off his clothes as did you, his white cock springing up furiously. It was just the right size, bigger and longer than average, almost so that you worried about having to fit it inside you.

His figure was lanky, but still muscled, just the way you thought it would be. You placed your fingers on his chest, twisting his nipples. He shuddered and took off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand. You shoved him down on your bed and he immediately spread his legs, giving you perfect access.

“Want me to suck you off, Jon?”

“Yes!” he said impatiently. “Just do it.”

You spanked his balls with your hand, carefully watching the way they bounced ever so slightly.

“Nghh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Do it whenever you feel like.”

Despite his words, you could see him waiting anxiously for you to touch him.

You did so, kissing the tip of his head and running your tongue through the slit, tasting the salty precum he was leaking. He hissed when you took his entire length. “Ah.”

You gripped your thumb so you wouldn’t gag and took him in all the way, hollowing out your cheeks. He thrusted up, deepthroating you for a hot second before he placed his hips firmly against the bed, not wanting to do anything that would upset you.

“So—so warm,” he stuttered out. “Can’t wait to feel your cunt, if your mouth is this fucking good.”

You would have said something, but your mouth was filled, busy bobbing up and down. He squirmed and moaned, shamelessly being as loud as he could. You could feel yourself getting wet again, but you controlled your urges for the sake of Jonathan.

He brushed your hair out of the way, scrunching up his face. “M’gonna — hnghhh — m’gonna come!”

That was when you pulled off of him.

It took a moment for him to realize what you were doing, but when he did, he wasted no time in complaining.

“No,” he mewled, tearing up. “I’ve been such a good boy. Such a good boy.”

“Have you?” You giggled.

“I need you, I need this,” he moaned. “I’ve wanted you so bad — that’s why I came to you, that’s why I came to you and no one else. I didn’t even need the sponsors that bad, I just wanted to see you. I . . . I’m in agony,” he continued dramatically.

“That’s sad.”

More tears ran down his cheek at your nonchalant words. He sniffled. “Please, stop that and just make me come!”

“Okay. I think you deserve it.”

But instead of putting your mouth back on him, you sunk onto his cock, slowly at first, so your pussy could get used to the size.

“Oh, fuck,” Jonathan cursed, placing one of his hands on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. His other hand went up to play with your breasts, cupping and kneading them like they were pieces of dough.

You started bouncing, a string of incoherent words and moans leaving your mouth. Jonathan sat up and wrapped you in his arms, kissing down your neck as you moved.

“You feel so good,” you murmured, clenching around his cock. “I s-should have done this sooner.”

“Should’ve,” Jonathan agreed. “But — ah — we can always do this more often, yeah?”

Too blissed out to respond with words, you just nodded your head, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

It didn’t take long for both of you to come after that. His hot load spurted inside of you and you came again, but this time on his cock.

He collapsed, exhausted from the sensations.

You slowly got up, letting out a little wince as you felt his length leave you. You cuddled up beside him, caressing his cheek, wrapping you both in the blanket. He looked a little tired, and you didn’t blame him. So were you.

“You set my soul alight,” he said softly. “You always have.”

You wanted to ask him how deep his feelings ran, if this was just sex, or if it was something more, but when he fell asleep on your breast, you dropped the idea. He trusted you enough to let his guard down around you, and for now, that was more than enough.

The rest of the night was spent holding each other in your arms as you slept. When you woke up in the morning, he was still there, snoring softly like he was a peaceful angel.

You pulled him closer to you. “I’m never letting you go,” you murmured darkly. “Never.”

#Jonathan Crane #Jonathan Crane x reader #Jonathan Crane x y/n #Jonathan Crane x you #the dark knight trilogy #fanfiction #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x y/n #scarecrow x you #cillian murphy #pinguwrites

629 notes · View notes

slut4thebroken · 1 year ago

Text

Exposure Therapy pt. 8

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | You make the poor choice of teasing Dr. Crane, so obviously he has to punish you.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, kissing, hickeys, praise, edging, crying (but in a hot way), consensual sex, orgasm denial, cockwarming?, emotions? idk, neither does he tbh, bestie has no idea how to comfort you💀

Words | 3.6k

Notes | Trying really hard to keep his character accurate😓 lmk what y’all think lol

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 7

Neither of you mentioned his confession again. He seemed to be acting mostly normal and only a little awkward and withdrawn so you tried to remain the same to assure him that nothing changed. You were sitting on the couch, doodling with a spare piece of paper he found as well as an extra pencil, when you broke the silence.

“Where are you planning on sleeping?” You asked, eyeing the large space that was empty save for a desk, a chair, and a couch.

“The couch.” He said, not looking up from what he was working on.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” You asked, making him sigh and turn his gaze to you. “For now you may sleep on the couch, I doubt I’ll be sleeping much anyway.”

“Oh. Don’t you have an apartment? A bed?”

“The cops are going to be looking for everyone that escaped, including myself- especially myself, because I created what caused all of that.”

“Oh… What if I go? I can bring you back some clothes so you don’t have to stay in that and anything else you need? I doubt I can lift a mattress on my own though.”

“You want to go to my apartment in the middle of town, wearing that?” He asked, raising his brows. You looked down at your outfit and frowned, just now remembering that you’re wearing it still.

“People are dumb enough to hang their laundry up outside. I’ll just take something before getting downtown.” You suggested, but back tracked when he was silent for a moment. “I don’t have to, it was just an idea.”

“What will you do if the police show up?”

“Um… I’ll tell them you’re my boyfriend and I left something there that I need.” That made him scoff.

“They won’t believe that.”

“Fine. Ex boyfriend. Who’s been so busy working that I had to just go there myself.” You shrugged and he narrowed his eyes at you for a moment.

“Fine. Know that if you get caught, I have no power or leverage anymore to help you.” Honestly you didn’t expect him to agree. You figured he might want to keep you within his sight at all times but that wasn’t the case. Trying not to read into this new found trust, you were going over the plan in your head.

“Wait, is it even within walking distance?” You realized, worried the whole plan just fell apart.

“It’s not on this island, so no. And the train is still down because of the bat.”

“Oh… I can probably walk, it’ll just take me longer I guess.” The sun was rising anyway, so it’ll probably be fine. “Or I’ll ask someone for a ride.”

“Do not do that.” He said sternly, making you frown.

“Why not?”

“Because this is Gotham and you are a young, attractive woman. You will more than likely be kidnapped, raped, or killed.”

“What am I supposed to do then?” He let out a heavy sigh, and got something out of his desk drawer. When he told you to come to him, you stood, leaving the pencil and paper, and walked over.

“Give me your hand.” You held your arm out to him and he gently grabbed your hand to put on a very weird shaped bracelet on your wrist. “In case you don’t have time to put the mask on, point it away from your face and hold your breath, then push this.” He pointed to a lever near the heel of your hand and you reached for it, trying to test the motion and get used to it, but he stopped you.

“Not- now.” He strained, uncurling your fingers.

“Sorry.” You said sheepishly.

Then you were leaving, finding clothes that looked about the right size and changing in an alley behind a dumpster. The tricky part was the shoes but they’re subtle enough that they shouldn’t draw very much attention. You found an empty paper bag near the dumpster and put the mask in it then started looking for someone to drive you. You spotted an older woman getting into a car and immediately walked toward her.

“Excuse me?” You said, making her pause.

“No change, sorry.”

“Oh no, I was actually hoping you could give me a ride. I have a job interview downtown and it probably wouldn’t make a good impression to show up all sweaty. But I understand if it’s too much trouble…”

She only hesitated for a moment before agreeing, telling you to get in the back and asking for the address. You read it off the paper to her and ten minutes later you were pulling up in front of an apartment building.

“You sure this is it?”

“It’s for a small business.” You explained, quickly getting out of the car. “Thank you so much.” You dropped the smile as soon as you turned around to walk into the building. “Fuck,” You groaned, “I don’t have a fucking key.” How could you have forgotten that part? You decided to just walk inside, breathing a sigh of relief when you spotted a front desk.

“Hi, I lost my key and my boyfriend’s out of town and I’m supposed to feed his cat,”

“What number?” The man asked, bored.

“178.” He reached back and grabbed a key, handing it to you impatiently. “Thanks...” He wasn’t lying when he said everyone and everything is corrupt or just doesn’t care.

You made your way to the elevator and pushed 17. As you waited, you went over the list he gave you. Most of the stuff was easy, an extra pair of glasses in his desk drawer, a few pairs of clothes, shoes, a toothbrush as well as the extra one under the sink for yourself, etc. But you were mostly worried about the safe and the papers he wanted. What if you can’t open it? What if you grab the wrong ones?

The elevator opening with a ding removed you from your thoughts and you made your way to his door. You worked quickly, not wanting to increase your chances of getting caught, but you took the time to fold his suits, worried he’d be upset if you just threw them in his duffel bag. You opened the safe on the second try, putting the money that was in there in the duffel bag.

Then you made your way to the desk. Even though the rest of the place was completely tidy, the desk was covered in different papers. He said they would be on top, not in a drawer, so you grabbed everything just to be safe.

Before leaving, you went through his dresser, praying he wouldn’t be pissed, and got some shirts and sweatpants for yourself, as well as a hoodie and socks.

The ride back was much easier since you had money to take a cab, but you still had to walk a few minutes, not wanting to be dropped off right in front of his “hideout” just in case.

“No trouble?” He asked, barely glancing up from what he was writing.

“Well I realized I forgot to ask about a key- speaking of which, you should probably move because the guy at the front desk just gave it to me.” The corners of his lips turned up and your cheeks went red, still not used to it.

“Good job.” You stared at him in shock, feeling your cheeks heat up even more, but you tried to play it off.

“Did you just compliment me?” You scoffed teasingly.

“Don’t get used to it. Did you bring the papers I asked for?”

“Oh- yeah.” You set the duffel bag on the desk and he opened it to inspect the contents. “I- I hope it’s okay, I brought just a few shirts and pants for myself too.” You said nervously. When he didn’t respond, you figured that meant it was okay. He started looking through the papers, then turned to you with raised brows. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bring the wrong thing so I just took all of it.”

“Thank you.” He said, making your eyes widen.

“Mhm.” Was all you could say in response. “Oh- here.” You said, suddenly remembering the wristband and taking it off to give it back.

“Keep it.”

“What?” You choked out. “You- you’re not worried I’ll use it on you or something?” You asked, staring at him with furrowed brows.

“Of course not.” He scoffed, then set the papers down and took out a suit and the shoes as you just waited awkwardly, not sure what to do. “Are you just going to watch?” He was teasing you, but there was still an edge to his voice.

“N- no, sorry.” You blushed, turning around and staring at the ground, listening to the sound of clothes rustling behind you and thinking about how you’ve only ever seen his face, neck, hands, and cock- nothing else. The thought made you frown. “Unless it’s okay… then I’d like to watch.” You said quietly and the rustling stopped.

“Why?” His tone was guarded.

“I just- I haven’t seen you yet and you’ve seen all of me.” You explained meekly. “Nevermind, sorry.” You waited anxiously as you heard no movement from the man behind you.

“Go ahead.” He said in a measured tone. You tentatively turned around, finding him in just a pair of dress pants, straight jacket on the floor and shirt in hand. The first thing you noticed was how lean he looks without his suit. The second were the small scars littering his torso. The third was his happy trail, leading down into his pants, teasing you.

“Satisfied?” You looked up at him when you heard his voice, not able to read his expression. When all you could do was nod, his lips curled up into a small smirk. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll fuck you stupid over the desk.” He warned, voice laced with arousal.

“Is that a promise, doctor?” You purred, stepping closer to him, setting the wristband on the desk to have both hands free. He stiffened, but allowed you to move until you were right in front of him. Staring deep into icy blue eyes, you slowly raised your hands, as if you were approaching a wild animal who could attack at any second. His eyes moved to your hands, watching, but he didn’t say anything. So you slowly moved them closer until you could almost feel the heat from his body against your palms. His eyes moved back to yours and you searched them for a deterrent. When you found nothing, you placed your hands on his chest, sliding them down his stomach, making sure not to linger on any scars. You reached his pants and brushed over the button teasingly before snaking them back up his body.

“You’re playing with fire.” He said lowly. Your hands reached his shoulders and you trailed them down his arms. Once you reached his hands, you grabbed the shirt and set it on the desk, then took both of his hands in yours, moving them around your waist.

“On the contrary, Dr. Crane. I’m getting exactly what I want.” You placed your hands on his stomach again to snake around to his back.

“Oh? And what’s that?” He said coyly, playing along.

“You can let me keep teasing you to my heart's content or you can punish me. Either way I win.” You smirked, moving your hands down his back to his pants and following the waist line around his body until they met at the button.

“You think you’ll enjoy however I choose to punish you?” He scoffed.

“You said it yourself, doctor. You don’t want to hurt me. So I’m sure I can take it.” His hands moved to your hips, gripping tight enough to make you wince as he pushed you against the desk.

“Foolish girl. You underestimate my desire to watch you crying and begging for my forgiveness. I have no problem torturing you, in fact, I’ll enjoy it.” You faltered at that. “Does that frighten you?” He asked, tilting his head.

“You don’t scare me anymore.” You said quietly, feeling the arousal in your stomach quickly make its way between your legs.

“That’s not what I asked.” He teased and you swallowed thickly, squirming under his gaze.

“No.” You tried to keep your voice steady.

“Maybe not yet. But I’m sure it will soon.” He reached a hand up to wrap around your neck, squeezing and pulling you forward as your breath hitched. “I don’t have to hurt you to torture you. You should know that by now.” He said quietly, gaze straying to your lips.

“I can take it.” You said, equally as quiet, not even believing the words as they left your mouth.

“You think so?” He cooed and you nodded in response. “I guess we’ll find out then.” He took a step back and you whined at the loss of his touch, reaching out for him. “Pick it up.” He said, gesturing to the straight jacket. Your eyes moved anxiously between him and the garment, hesitating. “This is the only warning I’m giving you— You don’t want me to tell you again.” You leaned down and picked up the straight jacket, then waited for his next command.

“Put it on.”

“Dr. Crane,” You whined, but he raised his brows, making you close your mouth and reluctantly slide it on. He stepped closer again then started buckling the restraints.

“You seem to think that pain is the only form of punishment I’ll inflict. I guess given my history I shouldn’t be surprised but you need to get that idea out of your head right now or things will only get worse for you.” You stared at him with wide eyes but his gaze remained on the task of restraining you. “There are plenty of ways I can punish you.” He said clinically, like a doctor explaining something to a patient. “Like denial, for example. Not just orgasm denial… You can’t touch me either.”

“Please- I’m sorry.” You whined, giving him puppy dog eyes that did not work at all.

“I bet you are. I bet you’ll say whatever it is you think I want to hear right now. Unfortunately, the only sounds I want from you are moans and cries.” He led you over to the couch and kneeled in front of you to pull down your pants and underwear before having you sit. He discarded your shoes so he could fully remove your clothes, then pulled you forward to the edge of the couch and spread your legs embarrassingly wide.

“I think you also underestimate my patience. I am more than willing to do this as long as it takes.” He started dragging his hands up and down your thighs, teasing you, never getting close to where you wanted him.

“Please.” You whined as your hips started squirming.

“Come now… We haven’t even started and you’re already begging? At least save that until the actual torture begins.”

“Don’t want torture.” You muttered.

“No? I thought you said this would be a win for you? That you can take it.”

“Please.” You whined, much brattier this time— all but throwing a fit.

“There’s that attitude.” He chuckled. “Keep that up. It makes it more fun for me when you break.” His hands snaked up your thighs, then back down, teasing you. You whined and squirmed, but surprisingly, it worked. He moved a hand between your legs, swiftly pushing in two fingers and rapidly curling them against your walls. You let out a choked moan from the sudden pleasure as your head rolled back onto the couch and your hips bucked. He pulled you even farther down the couch, then leaned down and took your clit in his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” You said through a moan, hips flinching as he groaned against you in response. Lifting your head to look down at him, you found his eyes already on you, making you blush and squirm under his gaze. After getting so turned on and not coming when you sucked him off before, your orgasm approached quickly. The volume of your moans increased as you started trying to rut against his face. He suddenly pulled back, his fingers halting, making you whine.

“Please, I was so close.” You pouted.

“I know.” He leaned back down, resuming the motions of his fingers as he started working your clit over in his mouth again. Your breathing grew heavier as you felt yourself nearing the edge again, but you let out a choked sob when he stopped.

“Please!” You cried.

“Shh. Be a good girl and take your punishment.” He muttered before leaning back down and continuing. You weren’t sure how many times you were on the cusp of pleasure before it was ripped away from you, but you knew it was at least five— after that you weren’t able to concentrate on counting through your crying and desperation. He pulled back but continued moving his fingers as you babbled out incoherent pleas.

“I have to admit, my patience is wearing thin so I’ll only keep this up for a little longer.” You sobbed in relief at his words. “Once I’m ready to come, I’m gonna fuck your ass. Remember how much you liked it before? It won’t be nearly as pleasurable this time and you certainly won’t be able to come from it.”

“No- no, please.” You said, panicked. The thought of being empty was enough to intensify your crying. “Please- I don’t care if I don’t come, just please fuck me.” You whimpered.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He said softly, but you just shook your head.

“No, I- I need your cock- please!”

“How do I know you won’t come?” He asked, slowing his fingers to a stop before removing them, making you whimper at the emptiness.

“I won’t! Please- I promise I won’t!” He watched you cry for a moment before cursing under his breath and working on taking his cock out of his pants.

“Can’t fucking say no to you.” He muttered, helping you to lay down on the couch as he crawled over you. The second he pushed in, you let out a relieved sob that turned into a whine when you tried to move your arms.

“Please- I want to touch you. Please let me touch you.” You whimpered, watching the way his brows furrowed as his mouth opened in a silent moan when he was all the way in.

“I can’t, you still need to be punished.” He said breathlessly and you sobbed the hardest you have all night so far.

“Please! Please- I’m sorry!” You cried and he shushed you as he brought a hand up to wipe away the tears on your cheeks.

“I know, it’s okay.” He cupped your cheek and leaned down to kiss you as he slowly started moving. Trailing kisses up your jaw to your ear, he whispered, “You’re doing so well, little one. Making me feel so good.” You sobbed harder at the pet name— not used to such affection from him.

“Oh god,” You moaned, already feeling close again. When he picked up the pace and began kissing and marking your neck, you started panting again. You tried to at least tone down your sobbing a little bit, but after you started, it was really hard to stop.

“Fuck- I’m already close.” He whined, rutting into you desperately now. His hands never left your body as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, letting out quiet moans and shaky breaths. When he stilled with a low groan, your cunt ached at the way his cock was twitching inside you, painting your walls with his come. After a moment, his moans stopped and he was panting heavily into your shoulder. When he started pulling out, you sobbing intensified.

“No! Please- please don’t- not yet.” You whimpered.

“I need to get this off of you.” He said, lifting his head from your neck to look at the straight jacket.

“I don’t care- just please don’t leave yet.” You cried.

“Okay- It’s okay. Sit up like this.” He maneuvered you so that he was sitting on the couch and you were straddling his hips, his cock never leaving you. He started working on the straight jacket, unbuckling all of it until he could slip it off if you and toss it on the floor. Now that your hands were free, you realized that you couldn’t even do anything with them, not without making him uncomfortable. So you continued crying.

“Okay, just- come here.” He muttered, pulling you down to lay on his chest. Your hands gripped his shoulders tight as you turned your cheek, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the warmth of his skin. His hands fumbled around for a moment before eventually settling on your hips and you knew that he was probably miserable right now. Honestly you’re surprised he didn’t just throw you off of him instead.

“I’m sorry- I…” He shushed you, not letting you continue babbling out apologies.

“Just breathe.” He said softly and you couldn’t help but obey. You let out a slow shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. “That’s it. Just focus on breathing. You did so well for me, I’m very proud.” You let out another quiet sob at the praise and shushed you again as he moved a hand up to your hair, lightly stroking it to soothe you.

“You’re okay.” He said softly. “Just breathe— you’re okay.”

Part 9

(For the sake of the plot, bestie is no longer taking oral contraceptives because he had her get an iud or something back in Arkham lol)

#jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow x reader smut #scarecrow #exposure therapy

540 notes · View notes

lucyswinter · 10 months ago

Text

onion tears and caring kisses 🧅 〰️. - * • ❤️‍🩹

pairing: jonathan crane x f!reader

summary: jonathan comes home from a long day at work to his loving girlfriend trying (and failing) to cook dinner

genre: fluff

warnings: slightly ooc!jonathan, praise, mention of a slight burn

♡ ♡ ♡

(a/n): my first fanfic!! it’s just a lil drabble but i hope you enjoy <3 also i only sort of proofread so i apologise for any mistakes 😣

♡ ♡ ♡

you sigh loudly as a puff of steam quickly rises up from the small pan of onions you have sautéing on the stove. heavy raindrops are pelting the window above the counter next to you, an added distraction to the already hectic atmosphere.

“my gosh how difficult is it to cook some onions?” you mumble to yourself as your eyes water slightly from the intense smell of the onions. you drop the wooden spoon you had been holding, and bring your hand up to wave the thick steam away from your face, just as the smoke alarm goes off. you swat your hand down and groan, accidentally hitting your exposed wrist on the hot pan, which orients a louder and more aggressive groan.

“why does everything have to go wrong” you moan in annoyance, shrinking onto the floor with your back against the marble countertops, clutching your wrist, now red from the heat. the smoke alarm is still blaring at an annoyingly loud volume and at confusing, spotty intervals.

“love?” jonathan questions worriedly as he walks into the kitchen, slipping off a raincoat from his shoulders, pants damp from the rain “what is that sound” he continued in the nervous tone, referring to the smoke alarm. he walks forward a small bit and places his coat on the kitchen island, still unable to find you.

“jonathan? i didn’t even hear you come in” you exclaim as you hop up from your slouching position against the counter, wincing a little as you place your injured hand against the cold, hard floor in an attempt to get up.

“oh there you are!” he says, relieved. he smiles, walking over to you briskly and pulling you the rest of the way up by your elbows, giving you a small peck on the lips. “how was your day, pretty girl?” he looks you up and down as he waits for a response, his smile drops as he sees the quickly forming burn mark on your wrist.

“oh, love, did you do this? what happened?” he asks you, lifting your chin up with his fingers so he can make eye contact with you. “hm?” he prompts when he is met with silence.

“sorry i um” you wipe away a tear from your eyes, partly from the onions, and partly because it has been a very stressful half an hour in the kitchen. “i was trying to make dinner but i kind of messed it up and i hurt myself on the stove” you sniff, rubbing your wrist and turning your head to avoid his forced gaze.

he turns your head back to him, fingers still holding your chin. he frowns at your tears.

“oh my sweet girl” he praises, peppering soft kisses your under eyes which have become increasingly shiny from a more consistent stream of tears. he then brings your wrist up to his lips and gives it a soft kiss. you wince at the feeling, and pull it to your chest, cradling it slowly. he takes your cheeks in his hands and uses his calloused thumbs to brush away the rest of the tears. “darling, you know i always make dinner, you didn’t have to do this.” he coos you, his tone quiet and reassuring.

“i know john, i just-“ you huff, voice breaking a bit. you spot the corners of his mouth turn a little more downward, his frown more pronounced. you take a deep breath in and continue “-you just said you’ve had a hard week at work and i wanted to do something for you, and i thought it would be nice if you could come home and have one less thing to do, but i didn’t take into account that i really do not know how to cook, and tacos are especially labor intensive” you drone on, a stress-induced hiccup punctuating your rant.

he stays quiet for a few seconds, still holding your teary face in his hands. he lets out a chuckle and kisses your lips.

“oh my kind and caring girl. so thoughtful” he hums against your lips. “mm” he groans as he pulls away to look at you, tears still falling.

instead of saying anything else, he just brushes the tears collecting on your chin and turns off the stove. he then leads you to a drawer from which he pulls out ointment and a small bandage wrap. he squirts the pasty off-white ointment onto your red wrist and spreads it very softly, his heart aching at your quiet winces. he then wraps the bandage around your wrist and cuts it with a light tug.

“there we go, pretty girl. all patched up.* he places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose “why don’t we just order some takeout now, love?” he chuckles again.

you nod and sniffle, feeling a little guilty that he has more to do after a stressful day. your cheek smooshes against his shoulder as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

“jonathan, your kind of squishing me.” you tell him through his sweater.

“oh, im sorry love.” he pulls away chuckling, but keeps his hands locked around your arms. he pulls an arm away to wipe your tears one last time. “so should we get dim sum or pizza?” he asks, a playful grin sneaking onto his cheeks.

“how about tacos?” you reply with a smile, already in a better mood.

“sounds perfect” he softens his grin to return your smile as he begins to pull out his phone from his pocket.

…

you enjoyed the rest of the night eating professionally made tacos, and snuggling against jonathan on the couch. even though it ended up okay this time, you and jonathan agreed that you should not be allowed to cook for a while…

♡ ♡ ♡

(a/n): thanks for reading if you made it this far! ill be putting out more fanfics as soon as possible (once i figure out how to set up my inbox 😭)

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane x y/n #scarecrow x reader #ooc jonathan crane #fanfic #jonathan crane fanfic #lucywrites<3

89 notes · View notes

deadgirlsnoring · 1 year ago

Text

FORGIVE ME | DR. JONATHAN CRANE

Summary; He’s so sorry for what he did, and he’s gonna prove to you just how much he is.

Contents; Face sitting (fem recieving), whiny/bratty Jonathan, degradation, cumming without touch, overstimulation, begging, black fem reader.

Her silky smooth skin rubbed up against his, he couldn't help but whine and try to get out of the restraints restricting him.

"I-I told you... fuck. I told you I'm sorry, how many times do I have to say this!" Jon was getting frustrated, how could Y/n do this to him. It wasn't enough, she wanted him to feel her rage.

Clicking her tongue, she rolled her eyes. "Why would you kiss her then? Bring her up to our hotel room like you guys were gonna get it on." The dr. was tied up to the bed, his hands tightly roped together along with his legs, ankles so tight he knew he'd have bruises the next day.

"Oh, please. I p- promise, okay? Promise It won't happen again, just let me cum." She shook her head slowly, her eyes seeping deep into his soul.

Y/n sat sideways towards Jonathan, her short French white manicure dancing creepily on his thighs, never touching where he truly wanted her to. Always going so close but so far.

"I love you, hm? You know I do momma. Made a mistake is all, I'm good. Aren't I?" She cooed, her warm hands getting tangled in his fluffy hair. He almost thought she was really gonna go easy on him, almost.

Jon gritted his teeth and whined carelessly when she tugged on it harshly, pulling his face as much as she could toward her. "You think I don't see through you?" She mumbled, fake pouting. He could feel and smell her icy breath on his neck.

This was the most Y/n had touched him in hours, he was glad but oh how he wasn't, "You're a pathetic slut, you crave attention so bad that when I don't give it to you, you look for random sluts?"

When she let go harshly he whimpered quietly, missing her harsh but loveable touch.

"You want somebody else to love you? Do you not think I give your ungrateful ass what you want?" A pout fell upon his face, trying to get out of his restraints.

"N- No! I only want you. I'm so sorry, forgive me." Chuckling lowly, she stood up. Her red bottoms clicked on the floor at each and every step she took.

Jonathan was completely undressed, with no type of clothing on his body. On the other hand, Y/n was dressed somewhat head to toe, with a small black mini skirt, black thigh garters, and her signature black lacy bra.

"I can untie you right now Jonny, you wanna go have fun with any slut you see? Ugh you're such a slut, aren't you?” He frantically nodded his head, he just wanted to please her.

"I don't want you to! I'm your slut, I'm yours. Please please please say it." She didn't want to make him happy. Wanted to break him down into a sobbing little mess.

"Now you're gonna tell me what to do? Thought you knew better than that." The man could feel the hot tears brimming, she was always so mean.

A choked moan fell from his lips when Y/n held the base of his needy cock, precum already spilling from his tip. "Why do you have to be so pathetic baby? It's embarrassing, really." He was panting loudly as her hands started an up and down motion, it hurt so good.

"M'thank you, fuck t- thank you." She pouted her lips, he really was so cute sometimes, "Language, now shut the fuck up. Don't wanna hear a peep from you. You can cum when you feel like it, okay Jonny?"

He nodded appreciatingly, she only had the tiniest bit of niceness in her body, and he loved it so much.

A small smile crept onto her face, holding one hand at the base while she moved the other one in a half circle, so fast his vision was blurring.

"S- Slow... Slow? P- Please?" Jonny was breathing so heavily you couldn't even hear anything else. Y/n wasn't smiling, "I tell you to shut up and you don't listen? Why are you such a brat? So fucking annoying."

Wanting to be quiet for her, he tried his best. Only letting out a small whimper when she grazed over his tip.

She said he could cum whenever, so when he felt that pit in his stomach when her mouth attached to his needy head, oh he couldn't help it.

Y/n lightly grazed his dick with her teeth, he only liked it when he was getting punished, to induce the pain. Only doing two strokes of that, the girl sucked on his tip, her tongue swirling around it. That's what made tears fall down his face, when they reached his mouth he just licked them off.

His body tensed up and he choked back a moan, but Y/n didn't care. Humming and continuing her work she smirked when his warm liquid coated the walls of her throat.

It kept going, and she kept sucking. Milking him for all he had. When he finished completely, she slowly moved up off him, waiting for him to come back into reality. While he was doing so she scooched up, placing little tiny kisses along his jaw, circling down to his chest and back up.

"Thank you t- thank you, I'm sorry for what I did." Looking at her smiling softly with a blank stare he should've known at that moment, she wasn't finished.

"You wanna eat miss out? Hm?" Her voice was soft and innocent, yet her words were far from it. Lightly giggling when he nodded his head repeatedly.

She had no panties on under and her man always had a thing for short skirts, so she kept it on.

“Don’t do that, let me help you. Please.” Y/n was teasing him. He couldn’t pull her thighs down when she hovered over his face, licking his lips seeing how her wetness dripped down on her thigh.

“P- Please? I’m sorry, do you want me to beg? I- I can beg miss, if you want.” Y/n held onto his tied up hands while slowly lowering herself down into his mouth.

Letting out a sigh when his mouth came in contact with her heat, “You’re so good baby, fuck. I’m thinking bout forgiving you.”

Moaning into her cunt, he lapped up all of her juices, savouring the taste. She barely let him eat her out, and if this made her forgive him. Jonny would do anything.

The man was great with his mouth, playing with her clit with his tongue. “Mhmm, make me cum Jonny.”

Her hands tangled into his hair, her sharp nails scratching against his scalp making him groan loudly. He was so close, she didn’t even know.

Jonny let Y/n rub herself onto his face, using him for her own pleasure.

Her legs trembled and she lost balance, sitting directly onto his face. Jonathan did his best, sucking up every single drop she let go, his whimpers being muffled underneath her.

“Wow little Jonny, y- you’re actually useful for something.” She stood up, and got off the bed, not bothering to look at the man tied up.

When she did though, a laugh erupted from her. She kept going, the sound of her giggling made him feel small; humiliated.

“How embarrassing Jonathan.” He didn’t wanna look her in the face.

“I’m sorry.” The man sounded so embarrassed, oh how she loved that. “You wanna do it again? I think you can baby.”

He shook his head, he hated when she overstimulated him. “No, no. I said I’m sorry, c’mon? It hurts.”

While crawling up onto the bed towards him she smirked, her pearly whites making his heart jump.

“But I like when you hurt. Don’t you wanna make miss happy?” He didn’t wanna nod, and he didn’t wanna shake his head no.

Her nails scratched into his skin, red lines making their mark.

When her hand wrapped around the base of his cock, he couldn’t help but let out a grunt, his eyes rolling back.

“Lets do it again, yeah?”

xoxo, liah

#dom reader #sub character #dom!reader #sub!jonathan crane #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x reader #black fem reader #black!fem!reader

250 notes · View notes

grackleshells · 9 months ago

Text

I haven’t finished the series yet but Scarecrow in Batman: The Audio Adventures has to be one of my favorite iterations of the character. Gah! I just can’t get over it!

He’s so sinister yet has this giddiness about him and I just adore it! The knife game scene comes to mind first but even just his dialogue as Dr. Jonathan Crane is so full of energy and character. Like he takes glee in terrorizing people! And I love that! It makes everything he does more horrific.

Also the fact he has little quirks like giggling sinisterly (even when he’s supposed to be a regular not-evil Dr lmao), having a love for old creature features, and a reoccurring desire to eat fear (hot) makes his whole character stand out- he’s not just the same scary, evil guy but in a different medium. Why are so many people sleeping on him?? It makes me insane

Bradley Whitford absolutely stole the show and his voice-work is truly something special. Really hope we see more of him as Scarecrow in the future

#the same goes for the Riddler too!#john leguizamo did wonderful #made me fall in love with a character i normally am pretty neutral on #miss Tuesday of course was also a delight #Batman #batman the audio adventures #btaa #scarecrow #scarecrow Batman #scarecrow btaa #Jonathan crane

57 notes · View notes

caesariawritesstuff · 4 months ago

Note

Ok I'm sorry but I have to do this! Is there anyway we could get a small continuation of that Scarecrow x Detective short story you wrote? Maybe how Ed would react to hearing that Jonathan did something to the Detective? Or just noticing her acting off afterward? If not that is 100% ok!

Precious Heart

Summary: After learning about Detective's conversation with Jonathan Crane, Edward isn't too happy, and makes an effort to confront Crane himself. Continuation of the short fic, Damaged Goods.

Content Warning: Angst & Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Minor spoilers for Cat & Mouse

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This fic is a continuation of Damaged Goods, and currently not canon to the official Cat&Mouse!Verse storyline.

Right about now, you could scream.

The sensation lingered in the back of your throat, building and building as you stormed down the hall from the morgue. Rage rushed through you as hot as dry lightning, sparking a fire deep in your belly – and a strange, lingering warmth between your legs.

Because here you were, suddenly turned on by Jonathan Crane.

Scowling, you threw a glance over your shoulder as you stopped in front of the elevator, glaring back down the hall. Bastard, you thought, a dozen curses ringing through your mind. How dare he put his hands on you? Slowly, you reached up, your fingers grazing across the question mark pendant dangling around your neck, resting at the delicate hollow of your throat. You could not believe the interaction that just happened, and you found yourself replaying it over and over again in your head, on repeat, a never-ending loop.

If there was one person in this damn precinct who had become an anomaly to you, it was Jonathan Crane. Never had you expected a man like him to be given a chance at reform as well, especially considering the fact that he’d caused so much chaos and destruction three years ago – but you supposed you could understand why City Council would want him to help on this case. Even you and Mack were completely and utterly stumped, out of your minds about who else in this damn city could be developing a horrifying toxin capable of melting people’s bodies from inside out. The thought sent a tremor of fear through you – and you cursed yourself under your breath again, at the very prospect of being afraid. Because deep down, you knew that’s exactly what Crane wanted you to be: scared. Fearful. Terrified. And you would not give him that satisfaction; you’d been through enough in the last few months, and you were not willing to let the Master of Fear get under your skin.

With a heavy sigh, you took the elevator back up the Homicide Divisions floor, but as the numbers ticked by as slow as ever, you caught a glimpse of your reflection on the wall: your wide eyes, flushed cheeks, the small pout to your lips. A strange sensation bubbled in your stomach, hot and writhing, causing an uncomfortable knot to form there. You had not expected the entire interaction with Crane to be…heated. Or for him to have such an effect on you, one you weren’t even sure you were even processing clearly. All you really knew was that that familiar pulsing of warmth throbbed in your clit, and it had been caused by a man who was, perhaps, one of the most terrifying people you’d ever met.

There had been something cold in his blue eyes, even though the right was damaged and milky, but the way he looked at you – studied you from head to toe as if you were a science experiment – wasn’t what bothered you. Neither did the white scars all across his skin, remnants of his reconstructed face, a stark change to the man who was hauled into the GCPD three years ago, completely out of his own mind on fear toxin. What bothered you was how easily he’d approached you, grasping at the pendant around your neck with care, asking you such blasé questions about your relationship with Edward. Questions even you had asked yourself over the last few months – because Crane was right. You did not know what a man like Edward Nigma had come to see you in, why he’d fallen for you, and Crane’s questions only furthered your own. But what you could not understand was why he cared so much to ask them – and why he seemed so content to believe you were ruined for anyone else, all because Edward had touched you, lied with you, had claimed you as his own. You were not ruined, and you would not let Jonathan Crane or anyone else think otherwise.

“Bastard,” you mumbled under your breath again as the doors opened and you stepped out, taking a quick glance around at the detectives and officers milling about. The room was buzzing with voices and chatter, phones ringing off the hook, you quickly made your way back to your desk, sitting down with a heavy sigh. You lowered your face into your hands, pain throbbing at your skull, spreading across your temples.

Shit. This wasn’t good – you should not let Crane be getting under your skin like this, or feel so…well, you weren’t sure what you were feeling right about now. Rage. Irritation. Annoyance. Pleasure.

Crap. The way he’d circled around you, a predator analyzing its prey, the way he’d grasped your pendant and stroked it at with his fingers – something about the entire movement caused your clit to ache. What was it about men like Edward Nigma and Jonathan Crane that had you feeling such utter draw to them? Maybe you were beginning to realize that you had a type.

And, as much as you couldn’t help it, you found your thoughts beginning to wander. What would it have been like if Crane had bent you over that morgue table and had his way with you, fucking you into oblivion, his hand wrapped your throat as his cold, raspy voice whispered dirty things into your ear?

“Shit,” you whispered, but just as the words escaped your lips, a mug of coffee was set beside you. You glanced up to find Edward standing there, his own mug of coffee in hand, and he smirked at you, eyes studying you with slow intention.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the mug, but a heartbeat of guilt passed through you. You were with Edward for God’s sake – why were you thinking about another man?

Edward’s eyes narrowed, as if he immediately could sense something was wrong, and his gaze roved over you, making the skin prickle on the back of your neck. “Is something wrong, detective?”

“No, nothing,” you said quickly, the lie heavy on your tongue – but by the way Edward’s brows furrowed, you knew he didn’t believe you. Of course he didn’t. Why was he so capable of reading you? You averted your gaze, quickly taking a sip of coffee, and burned your tongue.

Edward crossed his arms. “Come now, detective,” he sighed. “Tell me what’s happened.”

You looked up and around; Mack was gone from his desk, and everyone else was far too busy involved in their own cases to be bothering to listen to you. Sighing, you gestured for Edward to sit, and he took the empty chair at the desk beside you, waiting for you to continue.

“So…Jonathan Crane is…interesting,” you finally said, choosing your words carefully.

Edward quirked a brow, leaning back in his chair. “Did he say something to you?”

You were silent for a beat, but you knew there was no point in lying. “Well...I was down in the morgue when the power went out. We had an…interesting talk.”

“About?” Something cold laced Edward’s voice, curiosity in his tone.

“My relationship with you.”

Edward was quiet for a long moment, long enough that you could tell he was thinking through every possibility that such a conversation entailed. Finally, he sighed and asked, “And what did the good doctor say?”

“He…” You looked away, biting slightly on your bottom lip as you struggled to answer his question. The last thing you wanted to do was have Edward go storming down to the morgue and throwing a fit in a jealous huff.

Finally, you looked back at him. “He just wanted to know about us. You know, how long we’d been together. That kind of thing.”

Edward blinked. His face was like stone, a passive statue of emotionless. Finally, he smiled, his grin stretching from ear to ear. “Well, can you blame him? Why wouldn’t he be curious? After all, you’re with me – the smartest, most handsome man in Gotham. It’s only natural for him to be curious about a relationship which is so great that he cannot even comprehend.”

“So great, huh?” you asked, unable to fight the smile threatening to curve at your lips.

“Of course, my dear. You’re with me, remember?” His grin didn’t faulter, but he leaned forward slightly. “And I am the best partner, the best lover, you could ever ask for. No need to deny it, detective, we both know it’s the truth.”

You rolled your eyes, a small laugh bubbling out of your chest. Well, at least his ego was still intact – you did not think that was one thing that could ever be taken away from Edward. But as you turned back to your desk, content to pour over the case files, another heartbeat of regret pounded in your stomach, spreading like wildfire through your bloodstream – but there was something else, too, something raw and real and terrifying that you did not want to admit.

Because, deep down, you knew that Jonathan Crane was right.

Edward had completely, and utterly ruined you.

If there was one thing Edward come to learn long ago, it was that Jonathan Crane was a very deliberate man. He did not ask questions without purpose, without trying to learn something about someone, without trying to find their weakness or exploits. The man was a manipulative bastard, but he supposed he could say the same about himself. Perhaps that’s why they got along so well over the years. While Edward had often found himself at odds with the likes of Penguin and Two-Face, it was Jonathan whom he retained the closest thing to a friendship.

So having him here at the GCPD was quite the surprise – one that had even Edward questioning Jonathan’s own motivations for why he would accept a similar deal from City Council. But so far, Edward had been far too busy with his own tasks to find a moment to slip down to the forensics lab and have a moment to speak alone with Jonathan – until now.

A knot of uncertainty bundled in Edward’s stomach. It had been clear that you’d been hiding something from him when retelling your conversation with Crane, but Edward hadn’t pressed further – he wanted to hear the details from Crane himself. Clearly, he’d must have asked something to get under your skin. Probably some silly thing about fear or terror or whatever else Jonathan found so interesting, but Edward hadn’t wanted to press you too hard on the matter, not when you’d looked so shaken up. So as he walked down the hall and slipped into the medical examiner’s office, he narrowed his eyes, immediately finding Crane sitting at counter, filled with vials in an array of colors, lab equipment organized neatly around him. Dr. Collins was gone, thankfully, allowing Edward the privacy he needed, and he stepped into the room.

Jonathan swiveled around in his chair, his mouth opening slightly as if to ask something, but he quickly shut it when he realized it was Edward standing there. His cold eyes were narrowed, stoic, not an inch of emotion written across his face.

“Crane,” Edward said, stepping further into the room.

“Ah, Edward,” Jonathan said, his voice gravelly, cold, a raspiness to it. “I was wondering when you’d honor me with your presence.”

Edward smirked, but wandered over with slow, calculated steps. “Oh, you know,” he said with a lazy wave of his hand. “The Commissioner just loves to keep me busy. I hardly get a moment to myself in this place.”

Jonathan turned back to his vials, humming under his breath. “It must pain someone with such intelligence like yourself to be reduced to working in a place like this.”

Edward shrugged, but leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, only a foot away from where Jonathan worked. “It has its perks,” he said, his thoughts straying to you. You were the only reason this place was bearable in any capacity.

Jonathan’s cold gaze slid to him once more. “Ah, yes. Your…paramour. I take it she told you about our conversation?”

A muscle feathered in Edward’s jaw, and he met Crane’s gaze. “No. But I’m here to hear it out of your own mouth, Crane. What exactly did you say to her?”

Jonathan shrugged in indifference, once more turning back to the chemicals at hand, making a few notes on a pad of paper. “I was simply curious to the nature of her relationship with you. I’ve never known you to take interest in such primal desires, Edward. What is it about her that fascinates you so?

Edward frowned. There were many, many things that fascinated him about you – the way you carried yourself, spoke, the fire that burned so brightly in your soul that refused to dim, considering all that happened over the last few months. The way you tolerated him, laughed at what he said, gave yourself to him so wholly and completely. The problem wasn’t the answer to the question – the problem was why Jonathan wanted to know.

“What does it matter to you, Crane?” Edward asked, his voice low, concerned. Because he knew when Crane became fascinated with something, fixated on it, he would not let it go.

And if he was becoming fascinated with you…

Jonathan turned back to him again. His scarred lips were pursed into a thin line, but he finally set his pen down and rested his hands on his knees, leaning slightly back in his chair. “I’m simply curious, is all, Edward.”

“She’s not some science experiment you can pick apart,” Edward said, his tone testing.

Jonathan blinked at him, as if what Edward said hadn’t phased him at all. “You care quite a bit for her, Edward,” he said finally after drawing out the silence for a long moment.

Edward shifted slightly, gritting his teeth. “And? Your point?”

“An observation. You and I both know she’s simply your newest obsession, Edward. What will happen when you tire of her?”

Edward’s eyes narrowed into slits, and he frowned, staring down at Crane as hot anger pooled in his stomach, prickling across his skin. Yes, he knew the truth: you were his obsession. The thing he needed, wanted, craved at all hours of the day. But he did not imagine he would ever tire of you. You were like a drug to him, his addiction. And the truth was that he had come to a point where he could not imagine the rest of his life without you in it.

“Or, perhaps, when she tires of you?” Jonathan continued.

“An absurd insinuation,” Edward said, a bite in his voice now. How could you ever tire of him? He was the World’s Greatest Everything. There was not a universe in which you could ever tire of him, Edward was sure of that.

“Come now, Edward,” he said. “No need to be so testy. However, I’ve heard the rumors. People around here like to talk. I know what they call her, what they think of her. When you do tire of her, when you’ve thoroughly ruined her for anyone else in this city to want – what will she do then?”

Edward bristled, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “I don’t see why that’s any concern of yours, Crane,” he said, but his lips twisted in a smirk. “Why? Does it bother you that someone like her would be with someone like me?”

A flame ignited in Edward’s belly, a sick satisfaction twisting there. Of course Crane had to be jealous of his relationship with you. After all, Edward was just that much smarter, much more handsome, much more great. Crane could not compare to him one bit. Edward was everything and better – and he planned to hold that over the man’s head at every turn.

“Not at all,” Jonathan finally answered. “She is your paramour. You do what you like with her. All I intended was to get to know her, understand why a detective like her would with someone like you.”

Edward bristled at Jon’s words, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. “Well, Crane, my capacity for self-improvement has grown well beyond what you’re capable of. Watch and learn, and you’ll be just fine.” He smirked at that, a sense of triumph racing through his chest.

“Of course, Edward,” Jonathan said, his voice low and cold. “You are this city’s picture of reform. I will do my best to follow in your footsteps.”

Edward’s smirk grew. “Good. I need to get back to work. Have fun with your chemicals, Crane. Try not to sniff your own toxin too much.” He turned on his heels, giving Jonathan a lazy wave, and headed back down the hall with confidence in his step.

But as he walked, his steps began to slow, and uncertainty twisted in his stomach. Now that he was alone in the silence, Crane’s words began to wash over him. His mind was spinning with questions, wondering why Crane would bother talking to you in the first place – and just what else he might have said that you could be hiding from him. Well, he’d just have to keep a careful eye on Crane, then. Whatever was brewing in the man’s mind, Edward intended to find out. But if it involved you…

Edward’s hands curled into fists. Crane could find you fascinating all he liked, but he would not allow you to become an experiment in his twisted little world of fear. He refused to let that happen – and if Crane asked you one more question that was out of line, Edward would not hesitate to put Crane in his place. If Crane was planning to use his toxin on you, Edward would shove his own toxin in his mouth before he had that chance.

Oh, yes, Edward was certain of that.

Crane could have his fun in any other way that did not involve you. Because, Edward knew with absolute certainty, he would not allow another man to swoop in and take your attention from him. You were his, and his alone, and Crane would just have to accept that you were with a man like him. He could speculate and theorize all he wanted, but Edward would not allow Crane to get under your skin, to make you question your relationship with him. Not when he finally had you, when he held your heart in his hands.

And he would not allow Crane’s ability to incite fear poison your precious heart.

#caesariawrites #also anon please don't apologize!#i am more than happy to write any prompts with these three idiots lol #the riddler #edward nigma #arkham riddler #arkhamverse riddler #arkham scarecrow #scarecrow #scarecrow x you #scarecrow x yn #scarecrow x reader #edward nygma x reader #edward nigma x y/n #edward nigma x you #arkham edward nigma #edward nigma x reader #Cat&Mouse!Verse

42 notes · View notes

elena-mayfair · 1 year ago

Text

Running toward danger

Paring: Paring: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, with elements of slow-burn romance Warnings: rating M, Explicit content!, NSFW!, strong language, graphic violence, themes of depression Summary: The last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone in his company. But Sunday's incident did not bring him any closer and Y/N was proving more and more every day to be his biggest clue and perhaps his best chance to expose him. He had to take that risk. He had to push aside his feelings for the greater good. He had to act quickly and discreetly. He had to find hard evidence that he could use against him before it was too late before Y/N becomes his next victim. But for now, he had no choice but to hope that after the failed attack Crane would be cautious that, if necessary, Y/N would activate the transmitter he had given her. That he was not making a mistake. Word count: 16.6k Note: Some gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Series masterlist

Disclaimer: The following chapter contains an explicit smut scene! Reader discretion is advised.

"Shouldn't you be at home resting?" Bruce asked opening your office door wider and glancing inside, "can I come in?"

"Sure!" you smiled looking out from behind the computer screen, "I'm fine. I told you I don't need sick leave."

"And I'm telling you for the third day in a row that I'd rather you take a few days off," he replied, leaving the door slightly open behind him as he was in the habit of doing. He walked over to you and, while placing a mug of aromatic coffee on your desk, asked, "Why are you so stubborn?"

"A manufacturing defect," you smirked, as you reached for the hot beverage, "I appreciate your concern, but you won't make me." Even his charming smile and compelling dominance couldn't keep you at home. Locked inside your four walls you were losing your mind as intrusive thoughts returned time and again replaying images from the past few days. Fear of what you can do, guilt over what you have done, confusion, a feeling of powerlessness, enchantment, a fleeting feeling of happiness, an unstoppable desire to escape. All of them fought for control, tried to determine your next step, drove you to the brink of insanity. You could escape from them at work, working was a distraction at least until Bruce wasn't around.

"I noticed," he smiled then pulled a chair over so he could sit next to you.

Wednesday evening was slowly descending over Gotham. Heavy, rainy clouds loomed in the darkening sky, dimming the cool glow of the setting sun. The pale, cold sun had long since hidden behind the horizon, taking with it a touch of autumn warmth, shrouding the city in a familiar mystical veil. Just as the setting sun took with it the warmth of the day, the approaching evening brought with it the anticipated comfort, the comfort of his gaze that seemed to watch over you every evening. So it was that day and each that came after Sunday. Monday morning dawned with a smile on your face when a message full of concern appeared on your phone screen suggesting that you should stay home instead of going to work. You refused, which led him to your office in the evening hours. Bruce Wayne, although absent for most of the day, seemed to be always nearby, watching attentively. He maintained a slight distance, but his eyes betrayed more than he may have intended. You were learning about him, studying him while conclusions and assumptions formed on their own. Bruce was a man of action. Determined, confident, insanely intelligent, and yet cautious. You could only assume that if he decided to take one step, he didn't plan to wait long for the next one, let alone back down. His constant presence kept building confidence in you with each passing day. Always close, yet so far away from you. Always charming, always composed, a perfect gentleman. You couldn't help but admire the professionalism he displayed in the office. The door was always left ajar, physical contact was almost non-existent, while only his gaze seemed to be touching your soul, looking longingly at you as he silently built tension between you. He was driving you crazy with that deep voice of his that seemed to pierce you to the core, that gaze that seemed to look into the deepest corners of your mind, and that infuriating, barely visible smile. So you tried, you tried your best to stay calm and relaxed as he came closer to you. You tried so hard to match his level of professionalism, but his mere presence was enough to trigger thoughts you shouldn't have in the office. It was enough that he came close enough for you to smell his perfume again, to ignite still lingering memories, to recall the touch of his lips on yours, the closeness of his body against yours, the words he whispered in your ear as you twirled together in a dance. Some part of you screamed: "Fuck professionalism!!! Fuck the cameras, fuck the possibility of being noticed! Don't hesitate!!! I won't either!" But although he seemed to be getting closer every day, he didn't make another move forward, and you certainly weren't going to urge him to do so. Instead, every evening you replayed in your mind that brief moment when you felt safe when you felt that perhaps the fairy tale didn't have to come to an end after all, those magical moments of the past few days. You couldn't lie to yourself, even though you knew you shouldn't, you were falling in love. And that feeling was more frightening than any other.

Yet, the brief moments of delight and excitement did not last long. Once Bruce disappeared, reality began to take on much darker shades. Overwhelming feelings, fear, anger, doubt, moments of enchantment that disappeared as quickly as they appeared, only to plunge you back into the endless darkness of reality and your own intrusive thoughts. Monday brought distress, as once again your own decisions led you to the Gotham City police precinct to give a statement. Tuesday brought frustration and anger as you were denied the opportunity to see and talk to Harleen at Arkham Asylum. As the days went by, you became more and more anxious and fearful, walking the streets of Gotham and clasping your hand on the bat-shaped transmitter, ready to press it at the first sight of anyone who even slightly resembled the Joker. The nights brought restless dreams, lucid nightmares, evoking images that awakened in you a sense of guilt, and regret for striving so hard to remember them. At night you wished you had never remembered. Only the evenings brought that brief moment of calm and comfort. That fleeting moment when you felt good. For every evening when you glanced into his blue eyes you found something different in them, something unfamiliar, warm and inviting, surrounding you with a sense of safety within which you longed to disappear. But a quiet voice whispering words of doubt wouldn't let you. Bruce was a good man, an honest man, a man who invited you into his life, while you gave him nothing but lies and secrets which you could not reveal.

You did not talk much at all about the events of the past few days, which in itself seemed surprising. Bruce didn't ask, and you couldn't shake the feeling that he was waiting for you to bring up the subject. You didn't know how. You didn't know how you were supposed to open this pandora's box and start explaining, how you should open up to him and not lose his affection in the process. And even though his behavior reassured you that he wasn't going anywhere, you couldn't stop thinking that he would disappear as quickly as he appeared, once you told him, once he understood how broken you truly were. He would disappear and take away the warmth of his eyes, the touch of his hand, and the taste of his lips. He would take away all that and the fairy tale would be over for good.

"The wound is healing quickly," his hand brushed gently over your shoulder lifting the sleeve of your blouse, bringing with it shivers on your skin, "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, we'll drive to the hospital to take out the stitches."

"I still can't believe you made me go to the hospital."

"Don't you think it's ridiculous to think that a knife wound, ten stitches long, would heal on its own?"

"It would heal," you replied stubbornly.

"Y/N… don't be unreasonable."

"I hate hospitals. Even Batman couldn't make me go to the hospital."

"You hate hospitals but you still went to Arkham," he pointed out, "by yourself."

"I didn't want to bother you," you replied and he only sighed quietly, "I wanted to see her. To make sure she was doing well. Given the circumstances."

"You don't trust him?"

"Who? Batman?" he nodded in confirmation, "I don't know…" you continued, "I trust him. I think so. But I don't know him. I wonder if anyone knows him. Gotham's Mysterious Guardian, emerging from the shadows when you least expect it. It's hard to trust someone you don't know."

"You said he promised you."

"Because he did," you confirmed, "I wanted to make sure. I wanted to see her. But they won't let me in. They're holding her in Extreme Isolation! Maybe you could do something? I'm sorry for asking you this, but I'm convinced you have the connections that would get me permission to visit Harleen."

"Y/N, Arkham is a dangerous place," he began softly, "it's not a good idea for you to visit Arkham."

"I know, but I'd still like to get there. I'd like to see her," you lowered your gaze sadly, "I know she's done terrible things, and in everyone's eyes and probably yours as well, she's an insane criminal, but to me, she's just my friend. Whom I could not help…" You raised your eyes again only to meet the implacable depths of his blue eyes fixed on you. "I keep thinking that I should have noticed that there was something wrong with her earlier. That maybe if I had come to Gotham earlier, maybe if I hadn't hesitated so long to renew contact, maybe if I hadn't been so focused on myself…" he listened silently as his eyes watched with understanding, "maybe I could have done something, reacted earlier. Maybe if I had been there for her when I should have been everything would have turned out very differently."

"You shouldn't blame yourself for what happened," he mused quietly.

"And yet I can't help but wonder what if," you replied grimly, "so if there's even a small chance that you can get me a pass to Arkham, it would really mean a lot to me."

"I'm afraid even I don't have the power to make it possible for you," he replied but seeing your disappointed look he added, "but I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," you smiled gratefully and, not thinking much, kissed him on the cheek. For a moment you both froze in suspense when your lips accidentally got too close to his. You pulled away hastily as your cheeks flared with a blush.

"I'm sorry," you gasped in embarrassment.

"Don't be," he smirked and your heart skipped a beat, "I do not promise anything," he emphasized.

"I understand. But I appreciate you trying," you replied with a smile.

"It's the least I can do, after all that's happened."

"About that…" you began tentatively, "you have no idea how grateful I am for your understanding, for not pressuring me, for being so caring…"

"I sense 'but' coming…"

"But I think I'm beginning to strain your patience," you continued.

"Believe me, you're far from it," he replied softly, "although I won't lie, the questions are piling up."

"I am aware of that," you admitted, "and I know that seeing me with a gun in my hand chasing after Harley Quinn doesn't help."

"I don't think this is a good place to have that kind of conversation," he interrupted you, "I will be out of town on business since Saturday but Friday is a good day to have dinner together," he once again decided instead of proposing.

"Bruce, I'm sorry but I'm not ready to be in Twitter and Instagram feeds again," you quipped then, not believing your own words, added, "but maybe we could meet at my place? I'd cook something and we could talk in private."

"You cook?" he smirked.

"Why do you look surprised! Of course, I cook!" you replied, amused as with his smile all your stress disappeared, "what, because I'm a woman, an engineer, single, that means I probably live on Door Dash, huh?" you sassed.

"I didn't say that."

"I may not cook to the standard of a Michelin Star restaurant, but I'm sure you won't complain."

"That honestly sounds wonderful Y/N and I'd love to have dinner with you in the comfort of your home," his eyes shone intensely.

"Then it's settled! In that case, I'll come to work in the morning on Friday so I can have the afternoon off. Jonathan is being released from the hospital. I want to pick him up," you immediately regretted mentioning his name. Another lie surfaced along with the reckless words. To Bruce, Jonathan was simply your friend, when you knew full well that his intentions were quite the opposite. "What am I doing?"

"Did you get a chance to see him since Sunday?"

"No, I didn't," you admitted, trying to hide a growing feeling of discomfort. Too much had happened that evening, too many things had been said, things Bruce had no idea about. "I went to visit him on Monday after work but I was not allowed in. Jonathan didn't want any visitors."

"You know how it is, if he has the same aversion to hospitals as you do, he probably didn't want you to see him hooked up to monitors and with a bandage on his head."

"He's the head of the psychiatric ward! Somehow I can't imagine doing that job and having an aversion to hospitals," you scoffed, "anyway, I haven't seen him. We only exchanged a few messages."

"Raincheck then? If you prefer," he offered kindly but his words did not reflect in his eyes.

"Another one?" you chuckled, "if we keep this up, the list of rainchecks will be full by next year!"

"That would mean we'll have plans for next year," the corner of his lips lifted again in a shadowy smile.

"Glass half full huh?" you tried to contain your excitement at the implication of his words, "no, no, no. I'll make it work. I'll get off work early, if Mister Fox won't mind of course, I'll pick up Jonathan and drive him home, make sure he doesn't need anything, do some grocery shopping, wrap everything up and I'll have the evening free."

"I could help if you would like. Alfred could go grocery shopping instead of you," Bruce suggested.

"Thank you, but I'd rather do it myself. I don't have many friends, I can't afford to piss off another one. Eight o'clock sounds good?"

"Sounds very good."

***

The only moment when Bruce's mind was free of intrusive thoughts was the moment of the fight. That moment when thoughts completely silenced allowing his body to take over. During combat, thoughts were an obstacle, a distraction, during combat there was no need for thinking. All that mattered was action and reaction, trusting the senses, relying on instincts. Dodge, strike, undercut and one opponent fell. Strike, dodge, grab and throw and another lost consciousness. The third one got smarter, the third one started to run away. Running away blindly from the menacing shadow that attacked them without warning. Still, the attempt to run away was pointless. A swift move, a shot, and a small grappling hook flew out with a high velocity towards the fleeing man, catching his legs and knocking him to the ground.

"Okay okay, man! You won!" the man exclaimed raising his hands defensively, "what do you want!?"

He gave him no answer. Perhaps he could, perhaps he would get the information he wanted. Yet, 'perhaps' was not enough for him. He had to have certainty. He had to have him scared. He remained silent approaching him with a heavy, calm step, he didn't even pull the line. He didn't have to.

"Oh god," the man cried still on the ground, "I don't know anything! I swear!" he tried to get up but a batarang thrown exactly an inch from his hand stopped him in place, "I swear!"

Everyone swore. They all lied in fear of him. Each equally naive, each sooner or later revealed the truth. All of them only needed the right persuasion.

His shadow slowly obscured the light of the lantern as he stood over him, grabbed him by his jacket, and lifted him off the ground at eye level. The man's feet hovered in the air.

"Who hired you," he asked in a grave tone, "who do you work for?"

"I don't know! I swear I don't know anything!" the man struggled in his grip.

"Who organized the attack?"

"It was the Joker! The Joker!"

"Don't make me hurt you," he threatened grimly, "there were ten of you. Seven in the building, three on the lookout. Did the Joker pay you to tip him off or did he threaten to murder you all?"

"Man, you're reaching! We weren't there! We work for Penguin!" the man defended himself, "I wouldn't lie to you! I'm not an idiot!"

"We'll see," he muttered then launched a grappling hook at the roof and pulled himself to the top ignoring the man's terrified screams.

Grabbing him by the leg, he dragged him to the edge of the roof then extended his hand and held him head down a hundred feet above the ground.

"Talk."

"Oh god, oh god! I can't! He's going to kill me! Or worse!" the man cried out pathetically.

"Do I look like I care?"

"Please! I don't know anything!" he begged.

"There are twenty-six bones in your leg that I can break," a terrified scream broke from the man's throat, "Talk."

"'Okay! Okay! I'll talk! Just pull me back!"

"I'm waiting."

"We've been working for Joker the whole time! For Joker! Me and those two downstairs! We were meant to tip him off when the other guy would be preparing an attack! Joker wanted to humiliate him in public, he wanted to piss him off because the other one robbed him! He wanted to provoke him!"

"Who delivered the bombs?"

"I don't know! I swear I don't know!"

"My arm is getting tired."

"I don't know! Seriously! I don't know! We never met him! Communication happened over the phone! The payment came in cash! Picked up from the safety deposit box on 8th Avenue!"

"Number."

"892! 892! Come on man! Pull me in!"

"How were the bombs delivered?"

"Container at the docks! Cape Carmine!"

"It's the Falcone district. Why there?"

"I don't know! We were supposed to find a container with a scarecrow painted on it! Inside were bombs and exact instructions! That's all I know! Pull me in, man!" the man pleaded desperately, "I told you what I know!"

"I know you did," Batman stated grimly then pulled him onto the roof and with a single punch rendered him unconscious.

He lowered himself to the ground again, tied him up with the others, sent a message to Grodon about a pickup waiting for him at the Bowery, then launched his grappling hook toward the rooftops once again and rose into the air.

The transmitter had been sending a signal for several minutes, a transmitter that was directing him toward the bridge leading to Gotham North. He didn't need to think, he's been thinking far too much over the past few days anyway, he knew who he would find there. "Why did she turn it on? What did she get herself into this time?"

He had not seen her for a long time under the cover of darkness when his face was hidden behind a mask when his shape was concealed by dark shadows when he could truly be himself. He scoffed under his breath, realizing the holes in his own logic, catching on to the next taller building to soar high above them. With her by his side, he was always himself. Day by day she unknowingly revealed the carefully hidden corners of his soul the ones he thought he would never see again. All it took was for her to be close for the smile to affect his face. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled so much. It felt good. As if the sparkle of her shining eyes and the warmth of her melodic voice were slowly melting his ice-covered heart. He had given up plans to stay away from her, it seemed impossible and he didn't want that at all. He wanted to help her, to get to the truth, to get to know her, to find answers to the questions that plagued him, and perhaps, perhaps find the courage within himself to let her into his life.

He landed softly on the roof and saw her in the same place where she was then, this time sitting on the edge with her legs swinging carelessly in the air. A coffee cup was waiting for him next to her. He approached without a word, picked up the cup wrapped in a thermic cover, and sat down next to her.

"Nice gesture," he said taking a sip of still hot coffee.

"I thought you might be busy," she replied, "I didn't want it to get cold. The nights are getting colder."

"I told you not to use the transmitter needlessly," he didn't want to be harsh and yet the suit imposed a tone.

"You give me a number I can call and I'll rethink my methods," she sassed, "I wanted to talk. If you have time of course."

"I'm here aren't I?" interest piqued.

"You are…" she sighed pensively and gazed at the city lights on the horizon, "you always appear when I need you. Why?"

"I have my reasons."

"You watch over everyone you saved like this?

"Most don't get notoriously into trouble."

"Fair enough."

"What you did was brave but extremely foolish," he alluded to the Sunday events, "my people would have handled it."

"Nightwing was occupied by Joker, Red Robin was dealing with goons, Robin disappeared from my sight and you were not there," she replied casually but it didn't escape his attention that she remembered their names, "I saw her run away. She already escaped once, because of me. I had to do something."

"As I said, brave but foolish," he repeated then added, "you shouldn't blame yourself for her escape last time. You meant well, you wanted to help her. You made the best possible decision at that moment."

"I didn't think you were so understanding," she smiled weakly at him, " still, I can't help but think that if I didn't get involved then everything would have turned out quite differently. That maybe if I had reacted earlier, arrived in Gotham earlier, none of this would have happened," she said quietly.

"There's no point in thinking about what might have happened if we had acted differently," even though she couldn't know it, he said what he wanted to tell her earlier. "Are you alright?"

"Mentally, I could be better," she replied, "physically, I'm okay. The knife wound, no big deal," she shrugged, "I'm going to get the stitches removed tomorrow."

"Since when is a knife wound no big deal?"

"Since my life turned into a continuous string of bizarre events," she replied. "How is she?"

"Safe."

"You placed her in Arkham," she frowned.

"Despite popular belief, it's the best place I could place her. The best specialists in the country work there," he explained, "it was either Arham or Black Gate. Trust me, Arkham is the better option."

"I'd like to see her."

"Out of the question," he shouldn't have given her false hope earlier.

"Why? Somehow you had no problem taking me to Arkham before!" she snapped at him.

"I had reasons for doing so," he replied sternly, "Arkham is not a place to visit."

"Batman, she's still my friend," she looked into his concealed under cowl eyes. He watched her. "I would like to talk to her."

"About?"

"I have my reasons," she snarled coldly. The coldness didn't suit her, the sternness and hard stare looked somehow out of place. And yet, he couldn't stop observing with fascination.

"You ask for help but in return, you offer not even an explanation," he countered.

"I'm not asking," she corrected him, "besides, it's not like you're particularly open. People around me seem to be like that," she scoffed, "are you even human?" he remained unmoved, "forget that I asked."

"What do you need to talk to Quinzel about?" he continued. Y/N merely sighed with resignation, gazed into the bay and began.

"During the gala, she said something I can't stop thinking about," she said with a single breath, "she said I should look at the company I choose for myself and the people I seek help from before I start judging her." She looked at him as if looking for an explanation, a clue that would help her understand. He remained silent merely watching as single drops of approaching rain glittered in her hair. He may have had his suspicions, but they were still only suspicions. Without evidence, there was nothing he could do. Without evidence, he couldn't protect her, because what if he was wrong? "Given that my so-called company isn't particularly extensive, I only have three people to choose from. You, my former therapist and Bruce Wayne," she continued, "of which I can cross you out right away. Somehow I don't think she meant you when she talked about the company. Which leaves me with a choice between Bruce Wayne and my psychiatrist."

"Bruce Wayne, huh?" curiosity took over him.

"Don't pretend you haven't seen it," she snarked, "the pictures went viral all over the internet."

"I have seen."

"But somehow Bruce doesn't fit that comment to me either," she sighed in reflection, "why him? What could she possibly have against him?"

"Wayne is a public figure and Wayne Enterprises funds the GCPD," he noted, "Wayne Tech's plans for improving the city don't align with the criminal activities of people like Joker."

"No, that's not it…" a single flash of lightning brightened her pensive face, "you should have seen her. It was as if she was pointing out my own hypocrisy when I said that the Joker is a murderer and a psychopath. Bruce doesn't fit that comment. Bruce is a good man, a truly good man. There is care, kindness, and compassion in him." A strange feeling of warmth spread inside him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had spoken of him with such affection.

"You say that as if it's a problem," he noted when sadness took over her eyes.

"I'm not a good person, Batman…" a murmur of thunder followed her words. "I'm not."

"Every time we meet you try to do something for others, to help the other. And yet you say of yourself that you are not a good person," she looked at him with hopeful eyes, "I know that the Wayne Tech plans are your initiative. How can you say that, then?"

"How do you know?"

"I make it my business to know," he replied sternly, "you didn't answer my question."

"You don't know me," she suspended her gaze on him, "I don't know if I even know myself. Fragments of what I know do not add up to an image of a good person."

"You can tell me," he watched raindrops running down her face, a phantom of impending tears. A storm was hanging in the air.

"I don't know where I would begin…"

"The night is still young," he encouraged, "we have time."

"You think that's how it works? You say two words and I'll start sharing with you?" she glared in his direction but he remained unfazed. The mask hid any glimpse of emotion. It hid his curiosity, it hid his worry.

"Is there any other reason you wanted to meet me in the middle of the night?" he asked as another flash of lightning cut through the sky.

"Maybe I just like the company of mysterious grumps," she snarled back.

"If you say so," he took a sip of coffee and gazed at the city on the horizon. Somewhere in the distance, a siren sounded. A moment later, a second followed. His intercom was silent. He was silent. He waited. He could see the anger eating her up from the inside, the emotions raging inside her as she tried to decide whether or not to open up to him. Nervously, she reached into her pocket, most likely for a hidden pack of cigarettes, but after a second thought, she resigned, took a sip of coffee, then another, then rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, too far toward the edge. His arm shot toward her automatically, stopping in front of her. She only smiled and meekly leaned back.

"Fine," she sighed, "my coming to Gotham was meant to be a new beginning, the start of a new and better life," she began quietly, "I was running away, but I don't know from what. I wanted to leave the past behind but I didn't know what kind of past. I only knew that I had to move forward. Something was missing. There were feelings, fear, anxiety, anger…"

He listened in silence, watching as she slowly removed her mask cautiously revealing herself.

"It was as if a part of me was missing," she continued, "as if someone had erased the last three, maybe four years of my life from my mind," she looked at him. Her eyes shone in the darkness, she wanted to trust him, she needed to trust him.

"You can trust me."

"Trust is not my strong suit."

"That makes two of us."

"Why do I keep getting the feeling that you know more than I think you do?" she mused suspiciously, "do you, Batman? Do you know more than you let on?"

"As I said, I make my business to know," he replied calmly, "but don't worry. You continue to be a mystery." She smiled in response encouraged by his words and continued.

"I am convinced that whoever messed with my head did it on purpose…" she hesitated for a moment, " you know, I didn't know about your existence. I didn't know about anything! How, living in today's world, can you not know about the existence of people like you? Everyone was surprised that someone could move to Gotham so willingly, and I couldn't understand why. Now I know. Gotham is a truly remarkable place. A city where the Killer Croc lives in the sewers, maniacal clowns, gangsters and psychopaths run the streets, and the Dark Knight rises above the rooftops," her gaze rested on him once again, "I didn't even notice when I started remembering things. I think it was when, while being with Bruce in Metropolis, I didn't react to the name Superman or Flash. Yes… I began to remember. Jonathan and his practices…" she frowned, "it helped me reach those parts of my memory that were supposed to be erased, you triggered them, and Bruce helped my head to clear."

"Clear?"

"I'm sure he didn't exactly realize what he was doing, but he encouraged me to give away the pills that Doctor Crane recommended to me," she explained, "from that moment on, everything became sort of clearer. There is something off about him…"

"Wayne?"

"No, Doctor Crane," she corrected, "his practices are unusual, to say the least."

"Meaning?"

"Doctor Crane focuses heavily on fear and how fear controls a person…" she began, "he puts a person into a sort of hypnotic state and guides them through their fears. At least that's what it was like for me." The feeling of anxiety rose in him renewed and the flashing blue light on his forearm, signaling an attempted connection, did not help. Fear, fear control, unusual practices. All he needed was proof. He needed confirmation. He needed to pay him a visit.

"I understand why you asked me if I would get rid of fear if I had the opportunity," he recalled of their previous meeting ignoring the insistent call signal.

"You helped me a lot then," her eyes glimpsed in his direction. The expression of pain and sadness on her face was breaking his heart. "I didn't go back to him for another therapy session. What I already knew was enough. You, Bruce, Jonathan, you helped me without even realizing how much."

"You speak of him with affection," he asked taking advantage of the opportunity, "as of a friend."

"Because he is my friend. Maybe even more than that," she admitted. Jealousy pierced him painfully. "He was there for me when no one else was. He stood by me when I growled stubbornly as he tried to help when I got angry when he confronted me with the truth I didn't want to hear. He answered every phone call, at every hour, when nightmares and fears paralyzed me, making it difficult to function normally," she continued calmly and with every word she spoke, anger grew in him. He should be there. "Fuck! Why am I telling you all this!"

"Doctor Crane would probably say it's because people find it easier to talk to strangers than to those they hold close," he said.

"You're probably right…" she scoffed then abruptly jumped to her feet and backed away from the edge of the roof. With a quick movement, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a packet, and lit a cigarette.

His intercom kept signaling an attempted call.

"Batman, what is a Metahuman?" she asked suddenly revealing the reason she wanted to meet him. He saw what she had done even though she didn't know that. He had suspected it before even though she was unaware of it. He verified and cleared it a few days ago, but how could he tell her? How could he reveal part of the truth to her without revealing the rest? He couldn't. He wasn't ready.

"Why?"

"From what I've read, a Metahuman is someone who has so called Meta-Gene, a change in the genetic code that when activated grants powers. Some people live their entire lives without being aware of the deviation in their DNA and others, well," she smiled as he stepped closer, "others become Caped Crusaders protecting people."

"You've done a lot of reading."

"In my dreams, my visions," she stepped away from him to avoid blowing smoke in his face, "I remember the lab…." she said quietly while her whole body suddenly seemed to stiffen in paralysis as her hand paused halfway to her lips, "I remember the white lights shining straight into my eyes, bright like in operating rooms. I remember trials, tests. I remember being cut, pierced, subjected to electric shocks…" Without a word he stepped up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I remember the doctors. I remember what they said, I remember them saying they wanted to get something out of me…" she looked at him as tears filled her eyes, "they laughed when I begged them to stop. They mocked when I talked about running away. They said that no one would believe me, that they would lock me up in a mental institution," her voice broke, "and now I can throw people against the wall using my will…." tears ran down her cheeks.

"I believe you," his heart was breaking but he couldn't show it to her.

"Batman…" she whispered through her tears, "I think I killed someone," she broke down, "I have blood on my hands. There was a doctor there. I remember him holding his throat as blood flooded his apron. I killed him…"

She fell apart. Crying hysterically, she wrapped her arms around his waist and cuddled her face into his chest letting all the emotions flow out of her. Letting everything she had been hiding, everything she had so meticulously kept under control, tucked away at the bottom of her mind finally come out with an uncontrollable stream of tears. He embraced her and wrapped her in his cape as if that would protect her from the pain of reality.

"I'm a fucking idiot. I delude myself that I can have a normal life, a job, a house, a loving man by my side," the crying didn't stop, "I don't deserve that. I deserve prison. No matter what I do I won't give back the lives of the people I killed," he embraced her tighter trying to calm her down but he knew it wouldn't help. She trusted him. Now she needed to let her emotions out. "Everything I touch turns to shit…" she wept into his chest, "I'm a monster…"

"I've seen monsters, Y/N," he whispered softly holding her tighter, "you're not one of them. You are their victim."

An explosion shattered the silence of the night. For a moment he thought it was the sound of thunder rolling over the city, but another one made him realize his mistake. With a heavy heart, he pushed her away from him, her teary eyes asked the question. He merely stepped back a few paces and picked up the call.

"Robin to Batman!" he heard in the receiver.

"I'm here."

"Shootout between Falcone's and Joker men in Bristol. Falcone's men attacked a police convoy. Two officers down. Nightwing and Hood are on their way."

"Don't let these three escape," he ordered, gazing at the horizon, "I'm on my way."

He cursed quietly and turned back to her.

"I have to go."

"Something's happened," composed, she calmly wiped away her tears.

"Yes," he admitted. He had to go, now. There was no time for explanations. "Call a cab and get home. Don't wander around town," he ordered before hurriedly walking to the edge of the roof ready to jump, but her words stopped him.

"I want to go with you!" she called out catching up with him, "let me go with you."

"No," dread stopped him in mid-step.

"I can help!"

"Are you trying to get yourself killed!?" he raised his voice but she stood unmoved. Anger simmered under the mask. "You keep running toward danger instead of running away from it! This is not a game! You could get hurt or worse, you could die."

"I want to help," she replied stubbornly.

"You are helping," he grabbed her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes, "you are helping where people should help! You are helping with your work, your innovations, your plans to improve the city. You are putting the company you work for on a noble track. You are raising awareness in the people of Gotham. You are helping. Let that be enough."

"I could do more," fire ignited in her eyes, "you could teach me how."

"Go home, Y/N," he ordered, "I don't want to find you following me," he warned then jumped off the roof and glided into the night.

He left her alone.

On the other side of town, Jonathan could not sleep. As he watched the raindrops running down the dirty window, he listened to the sounds of gunfire in the distance wondering if perhaps one of his hidden bombs had exploded causing the chaos. Wondering was all he did for the past few days. Locked in the hospital, under the watchful doctor's eye, he had nothing but time to think about every mistake he made. About every poorly planned step that led him to this place. Was it a mistake to hire thugs to execute part of the plan for him? Was it a mistake not to reveal himself yet and let the eventual blame fall on someone else? Was it a mistake to rely on money instead of fear for his small organization? Was it a mistake to steal the toxins that he knew full well Joker had his eye on? Was it a mistake to target civilians instead of going after those who protected them? Perhaps he should have weakened Gotham's defenses first? Strike at the police, perhaps the governing structure, perhaps even Batman and his men themselves? Perhaps he should wait longer? Perhaps he should hire serious people to work for him and not just any goons? Was it a mistake that he decided not to wait any longer, that he decided to seize the opportunity? Was it a mistake to attack Sarah Walters and let her escape? Allowing his emotions to take control when a woman who reminded him so much of Y/N walked into his office. Allowing his own anger to take control of his mind. The chances that she would lead the police to him were slim to none if her mind did not completely crumble after exposure to a more concentrated dose of his toxin. He still remained invisible. He still had time. Finally, was Y/N herself a mistake? Was it a mistake that he didn't draw her to his side? That he failed to release the darkness trapped within her so she would stand shoulder to shoulder alongside him instead of unknowingly working against him?

Nurses came and went, doctors visited him more often than he would have liked, and no amount of assurances that he was alright and didn't need constant care helped. They didn't listen, after all, "Doctor Crane may have had a concussion, he may have experienced psychosomatic disorders, Doctor Crane eats and drinks too little, Doctor Crane should know better than to refuse to talk to a psychiatrist, after all Doctor Crane is one of us and we take care of our own." But Doctor Crane was not one of them, far from it. Doctor Crane's knowledge and genius exceeded their primitive understanding of medicine, their limited academic knowledge of human bodies and minds, their narrow-minded understanding of the scientific field in which they had come to work. He looked at them while disdain grew with each passing day. He watched their inept practices while derision and hatred built up within him like layers of renewing skin that began to cover his cut forehead. He despised them all and every single one of them. He despised their mediocrity, their limited minds, their contentment with the constraints they themselves agreed to. He smiled kindly when the nurses changed the bandages, but the touch of their hands on his skin brought him nothing but disgust. He listened with feigned attention as the doctors updated him on his current condition, but their words brought him nothing but a sense of superiority. Only the thought that he would soon show them what a brilliant mind is capable of, to what limits it can push the human psyche, kept his nerves under control. The soothing vision of their faces contorted in horror, their throats torn apart from screaming brought a smile to his face, comforted him during sleepless nights. Soon everyone would see how limited they were.

The door to his room opened again but in his reverie, he couldn't care less. Another nurse, this time with fiery red hair, entered his room presumably to check his temperature, the condition of his wound, perhaps to inform him that they were planning to remove the stitches, or perhaps to finally tell him when he could leave the hospital. He only cast her a fleeting glance when the heavy thud of her shoes interrupted his musings. Haotic movements and lack of professional greeting ignited his fading hatred as he mentally added her to his list of future test subjects. Looking up at the blackened sky outside the window, anticipating the inevitable unpleasant touch of her hand on his skin, he could not help but smile at the vision of the near future.

However, the touch did not come. With a loud clatter, the nurse only dragged the chair closer to his bed and sat down without a word. The cold realization of another mistake cleared his mind.

"Hi," Joker grinned dangerously, "you look good Doc! How you've been?"

"What do you want? How did you get here?" Jonathan asked calmly. His mind was clear and his nerves were under control. The Joker didn't scare him.

"Rude," he grimaced with feigned offense. Jonathan raised himself up on his elbows wanting to level with the clown but Joker merely pulled a gun from underneath his lab coat and pointed it straight at him. "Now now, don't be hasty," he sang melodiously only to turn serious in a split second as his voice took on an icy tone, "we need to talk."

"I see you brought arguments with you," Jonathan quipped, "you have my undivided attention."

"Perfect!" he grinned, "listen, quite a number you wanted to pull off at that gala! Seriously, my respects! The whole operation so nicely organized! All the important people in one place! Oh, it would be fun if everyone started running in horror and throwing themselves at each other's throats! It would be glorious!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon Doc! You can't fool me!" Joker waved his gun, "you can act innocent or even heroic for the cops, or maybe for my lovely runaway driver," he smiled ominously, "I know how close you two are. I wonder if she knows about your unusual activities."

"You don't know anything."

"Oh do I?" the smile didn't disappear from his face, "I know you stole my transport from the docks! I know it was you so don't try to lie. I hate liars!" he raised his voice gruffly, "I know they were used to create that wonderful gas which your people stuck all around the venue. Oh, they're dead, in case you're wondering," he quipped casually, "I know you're planning something exceptional, I just don't know if you're doing it all by yourself or if someone else is controlling the whole operation. Care to explain?"

Jonathan remained quiet, only his eyes betrayed a stilled desire to clamp his hands on the clown's throat and squeeze the life out of him.

"Doc, you don't look happy. Did I spoil your mood? Sheesh, and here I was, thinking we'd form some kind of partnership. I'd take care of my friend Bats, and you'd have a full rein to spread mayhem. Disappointing," he sniffed comically, "after all, we already share associates!"

"You're delusional," Jonathan scoffed.

"Oh, am I now?" with the agility of a predator he jumped to him and clenched his hands around his throat, "you, Doc, bring trouble. Your plans cost me my shipment! Do you know how hard it is to bribe people these days?! But you do know. Sure you know. You bought off my former men to work for you!" Joker's hands clenched tighter, "you bribed or intimidated! Like a puppy who is looking for his pack, you took what I threw away and usurped it as your own! You are creating a media fuss! You are drawing the cops' attention! They are beginning to snoop! Batman is starting to snoop! You don't want Batman snooping," the air caught in Jonathan's lungs but the Joker only squeezed tighter and, bringing his face closer to his, he growled, "she has the Bat on her shoulder. He's following her every step, watching her from the shadows. Do you think it was a coincidence that Boy Blunder and the birds appeared so quickly? There is something quite different about her that draws him in. She shoves herself everywhere, she's always where she shouldn't be, somehow always in the middle of things. And where she is she the Bat is too. And she cost me Harley!!!"

"I can take care of her," Jonathan gasped out through a clenched throat.

"You better," a low growl came from deep within the Joker, "because if you don't I'll take care of her myself. I've got my own plans and I don't need the Bat flying all over town."

"He won't."

"Stop screwing with my business or Bats will be the least of your problems," he snapped and let Jonathan go. "Well, good talk! We need to do that again soon!" he bared his teeth in a smile, "get well Doc!" he added and nonchalantly left his room leaving Jonathan alone with his anger.

***

Throughout your life you have seen many hospital corridors overcrowded with sick people, busy doctors and nurses doing what they could to provide the best possible care to patients. However, none even came close to what you found at Gotham General Hospital. Doctors left one room only to immediately head to the next, calm and composed, despite the suffering surrounding them from all sides. The nurses tried to maintain a smile on their faces and a warm tone of voice, but their eyes betrayed how many of them were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. As for the patients, they seemed to fill every available space in the hospital. Elderly people trying to fight another illness shared halls with young ones intoxicated by drugs. Young women looked disdainfully toward those who found their work on the streets, and with whom they had to share space. Accident victims and those of gang wars merged into one endless image of wounds, bruises, blood stains and cuts. Someone shouted, "I oughta butcher you! Penguin won't let it slide!", someone else dropped, "Fuck you you pathetic motherfucker! Falcone rules this city!", a mother covered her child's ears in time as the halls filled with the echo of a woman's frustration, "I may be a whore but at least the gangsters pay well and protect us from freaks!" Someone wept from one of the rooms, someone groaned in pain from another, as a doctor walked out cursing under his breath. Gotham was infected, steeped in violence to its core, and nowhere was this more apparent than in the hospitals.

If it hadn't been for Bruce walking beside you with a calm, steady step, you would have run home and removed the stitches yourself. The late night conversation with Batman left you in a somber mood and piling up guilt while the hospital environment didn't make it any easier to conceal that from him. You could only hope not to raise any suspicions. So desperately did you want to escape. Still, his towering figure filling much of the space next to you brought a strange sense of comfort. He didn't have to come here with you, truthfully you didn't even think he was willing to. And yet there he was, glancing at you time and again as if checking to see if everything was okay. He observed everything around with a stoic face and yet, you could see the pain and anger in his eyes.

"Why do you hate hospitals so much?" he asked, watching the changing expression on your face.

"Bad memories," you replied weakly then added, "I spent too much time in hospitals. I entered the hospital grounds too many times wondering if it was the last time," maybe you couldn't reveal the whole truth to him but you wanted to give him something. You might as well have reached further back in your memory. After all, the bad memories weren't just confined to the last missing years.

"They'll remove your stitches and we'll be out," as usual he didn't pressure you for which you were grateful, "a few minutes at the most."

"If it weren't for you, I probably would have pulled them out myself at home."

"Y/N! Would you really do that?"

"I would," you smiled innocently seeing his surprised look, "hospitals give me the creeps. Thank you for coming with me."

"You have nothing to thank me for," a gentle smile lifted the right corner of his lips brightening the dreadful reality surrounding you. You wished so much for that light and warmth he brought with him to stay in your life longer, but deep down you knew that he would disappear from your life as soon as he knew the truth. Pillar of the city, philanthropist, benefactor, for some a reflection of what Gotham could be, for others the only living memory of better times, for many a billionaire businessman, for few a father. You glanced at him stealthily once again painfully realizing that there was no room for damaged goods in his life, no matter how much you wished it would be different.

"When we get back to Wayne Tower I'm getting to work immediately. I'm in contact with several suppliers who will hopefully provide us with the materials we need to make the sensors. After I verify the specifications, I plan to provide a list of potential suppliers to Mister Fox and ask him to order the small quantity needed to make the test components."

"You're starting with sensors?"

"Linking with telecom, internet, satellite and whatnot won't be a problem. Only whether I can design and make sensors that will detect exactly what we need to detect could be. It's the base of the whole project so yes, I'm starting with the most difficult part."

"This is not the most difficult part," he countered, "I have no doubt that we will be able to achieve the design goals. The biggest problem will be the implementation of the system and convincing the city authorities of its relevance."

"Look around!" you stopped in mid-step allowing the nurse steering the medical bed to pass, "it may be naive thinking on my part, but at least some of those victims could be at home instead of in the hospital thanks to this improvement."

"You're right," he admitted in a lowered voice, taking a step closer to you and forcing you to raise your head to look him in the eyes, "I only wish more people in Gotham shared your thinking, especially those in power."

"Did my ignorance and lack of knowledge once again derail my thinking?"

Bruce did not answer immediately. Only gently placed his hands on your shoulders and turned you in the direction from which you came. Your shoulder rested against his chest as he leaned closer to you and began to explain.

"Now you take a look around Y/N," a husky voice sounded right next to your ear as Bruce discreetly began pointing out different parts of the vast infirmary, "to the left next to the entrance in black and white sweats are Penguin's men," you trailed your eyes along his words, "the one in the suit is probably their leader. The Penguin, as the people call him, is really named Oswald Cobblepot and is the last living member of one of the oldest families in Gotham. Penguin built his empire on weapons smuggling. But not just any weapons. Firearms, biological weapons, chemical weapons, whatever was in demand. Once he established himself in the city, he changed his role from a supplier more into a broker. His club Iceberg Lunge continuously hosts Gotham's criminal underworld as well as politicians and businessmen. You see, this is how Penguin views himself, not as a criminal but as a legitimate businessman. Anything that can be bought, sold, sourced, and liquidated with additional profit serves as an object of interest for him. Items, information, people, it doesn't matter. His record includes many assassinations, extortion, blackmail, bribery, and he does not hesitate from getting involved in politics. Just like Carmine Falcone, whose people you can spot at the entrance to the main block corridor, you swept your eyes down the hall toward a group of people dressed in sleek suits. Bruce continued, "Carmine 'The Roman', Falcone is one of the most feared and ruthless gangsters in Gotham and he does not disguise himself as a businessman at all although it's hard to deny his talent for business. Falcone doesn't act alone, he has a whole empire behind his back managed by many members of his family, as befits a true mafia. Brilliant and brutally efficient, he has on his payroll not only countless enterprisers who buy their protection from him but especially police officers and politicians. His organization mainly supplies Gotham with weapons and drugs, but he derives most of his power from his extensive connections, employed blackmail, bribery, intimidation, assassination, and kidnapping. Nothing in Gotham happens without his knowledge. No one gets to power without his approval."

"I assume that those on the opposite side closer to the ER entrance are the rival gang?" you asked quietly looking at the group of people in black suits.

"Maroni's men, always competing with Falcone for positions and territory," Bruce explained, "Sal's chain of Italian restaurants is just a front for his criminal organization. Simply put, where Roman's hand does not reach, Maroni's does. They hate each other but one thing unites them. They both hate Penguin more."

"Why?"

"You see, Falcone and Maroni are classic gangsters, people in power which they acquired in the most brutal way possible. Penguin, on the other hand, represents a new species of criminals in Gotham. Penguin doesn't shy away from working with those whom both Falcone and Maroni treat as freaks. You would never see one of them selling weapons to Joker. Penguin has no problem with that."

"How do you know all this?" you asked turning to him and gazing into his eyes again.

"I'm Bruce Wayne," he replied as if that explained everything, "you don't get to be me and not cross paths with one of them. Or as in my case with all of them. I have power, money, influence and I do what I can for the benefit of Gotham. The name Wayne means a lot in this city and public opinion takes into account my perspective. It's fair to say that they resent the fact that they don't have me under their control."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Gotham is my city, my home. I won't let fear of people like Falcone or Maroni stop me from doing what I do."

"But you are knowingly exposing yourself to a potential attack from their side."

"Believe me, it's not as scary as it seems," he replied with a nonchalant smile, "as you can see we went through the hospital and no one rushed at me with a knife."

"Bruce…"

"I didn't mean to scare you, Y/N. I only intended to make you aware that it's not the city government we'll have to worry about but them," the seriousness returned, "but enough of that. Come on, let's do what we came here to do." His hand moved to your waist steering you toward the surgical ward.

"Wait a second," you placed your hand on his chest, "since we're already here I'll ask if Jonathan is leaving tomorrow as planned," you informed him and without waiting for his answer you moved towards the nurse at the reception desk.

The reception desk was only a few steps away and it didn't even take you a minute to cross the hall. Yet a minute was enough for you to observe the unpleasant stares from the gangsters who shot in your direction time and again, to hear quiet whistling and disgusting comments.

"Look, look, Wayne's new doll. Nice ass. Why don't you introduce yourself?" came to your ears.

"Come on Frankie, the Prince of Gotham is right there."

"So what! What's he's gonna do? Fucking nothing! But I know what I'd do to her if I got my hands on that ass. She'd be squealing."

"It's not what he's gonna do. But what the Boss will do if he finds out."

The shivers ran down your spine only for moments quickly replaced by a new, yet familiar feeling. He watched you. His gaze, like a cool soothing touch rested on your back and did not leave you waiting for you to return to him. There was something reassuring about it, and yet strangely unsettling at the same time.

"Excuse me," you turned to the nurse drowning in patient files.

"Wait your turn."

"No, it's not that, I just wanted to ask about the patient who is staying here," you continued but the nurse didn't even raise her eyes from over the documents.

"When was he admitted?"

"Four days ago," you replied.

"Ask in the ward. This is an emergency room."

"I don't know which ward he's in. I would be very grateful for your help," you tried again feeling an increasing chill on your back, "Doctor Jonathan Crane? If you could at least point me in the right direction."

"Are you family?" she asked moving her eyes from over the documents to the computer screen still ignoring you.

"No, a friend."

"We only give information to the patient's family."

"Please, I'm sure he wouldn't mind," you insisted while the chill on your back continued to rise. The gangsters' conversations quieted down.

"We do not give information to non-family members."

"We're not asking for his health status but what ward he's in," Bruce corrected the nurse appearing silently beside you, "I'm sure you can give us such information."

"What don't you people understand, this is an emergency room not a ward!" the woman finally raised her annoyed eyes that instantly softened, "Bruce Wayne…" she whispered stunned, "I mean, Mister Wayne, yes, of course."

"That won't be a problem, will it?"

"Absolutely not! I'm already checking," she replied with a smile while tapping Jonathan's name on the keyboard, "yes…. Doctor Jonathan Crane, admitted to trauma, transferred to general after a day, head injury, possible concussion…" she read from the computer, "discharged today at his own request."

"Discharged?" you asked surprised.

"Yes. But he hasn't picked up his papers yet so I assume he's either still in his room or in the treatment area for a bandage change."

"Thank you so much for your help," Bruce's charming tone brought a smile back to the nurse's face, "we were just going there."

All Jonathan wanted was to get as far away from all the overprotective doctors as he could. Settle into the peaceful silence of his lab and continue his work. All he had to do was get his bandage changed one last time and pick up his discharge card.

The Joker's visit brutally made him realize that he was not as invisible as he would have liked. The fact that the cops were looking for him was known to him, but he was sure he could deceive them indefinitely. But if the Joker was able to get to him, Batman was certainly closer than he thought. After an unexpected encounter in Arkham, he was convinced that Batman was there because of Harleen Quinzel. After all, that seemed to be the most logical explanation. Just one of the many errors in thinking he made. Y/N and her lies, her half-truths, her untold facts caused him to overlook another explanation. He failed to see the obvious connection. Sure, she told him about the events at Iceberg Launge, she told him about how he rescued her from the sinking car, but how many things did she leave out? How many things did she leave unsaid during their sessions? She claimed to trust him and yet she was never completely honest with him. The trip out of town turned out to be a party in the company of none other than Bruce goddamn Wayne of all people, he could only assume that her previous date was also with him. A lying imposter, she chose her words so carefully to give him exactly what he wanted while not revealing the whole truth. "Fool!" he gritted his teeth.

"I'm sorry Doctor, but I'm trying to be as gentle as I can," the nurse uttered seeing his sudden reaction, "unfortunately the wound may still hurt for a few days," she added applying a fresh bandage to his temple.

"It's fine," he muttered in response.

If she had concealed so much he could only guess how many other things she had kept from him. Did he have reason to believe that she had seen him more than the two times she had told him about? Perhaps because of Quinzel she kept in touch with him? Perhaps she even told him about his unusual practices? Perhaps she didn't have to. Perhaps he already knew. Did he have reason to believe that Batman knew how unusual she was and that's why he decided to observe her? One thing was certain, whether she wanted it or not, she had led Batman to him. He had to act fast. He had to decide his next move quickly and deal with the problem she posed. All he had to decide was how. He had roughly 24 hours to plan what he would do with her. A day to decide before Y/N would show up again and start lying and cheating under the guise of being honest and open. A day before Y/N…

The door to the treatment area opened and in it stood Y/N. Behind her back towered none other than Bruce Wayne. She looked around the room as Wayne grabbed the doctor's arm, stopping him in his steps. Two sentences were enough for the doctor to point them in his direction. She smiled brightly at the sight of him, and with her smile the 24 hours he had to make plans disappeared.

"Jonathan!" without a moment's hesitation she ran up to him and, completely ignoring the nurse finishing her work, threw herself around his neck and hugged him tightly. Although rage boiled within him, he welcomed her embrace eagerly.

"Game on, Wayne," he thought as he watched his icy stare while he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tighter.

"It's so good to see you. I was worried," she beamed and before she pulled away from him her lips pressed a light kiss against his cheek, "you look great! They took good care of you here!"

"What are you doing here?" he asked her simultaneously acknowledging Bruce's presence with a brief nod.

"Bruce brought me in for stitches removal," she replied lifting the sleeve of her blouse and showing a long wound, "supposedly scars make the man. I'll have another one for the collection," she sassed.

"Very kind of you, Mister Wayne," Crane turned toward Bruce with feigned courtesy.

"You were supposed to stay in the hospital until tomorrow," Y/N continued, "I was planning to pick you up."

"I'm definitely fed up with the hospital," he replied, "so fed up that I think I'll take an overdue vacation."

"What were you thinking! What you did was incredibly dangerous!" anger ignited her eyes.

"No more dangerous than your actions," he pointed to the wound on his arm, "maybe we shouldn't talk about it now."

"Right," she agreed, "since you are leaving the hospital today…damn. This is not how I planned all this. "

"Things don't always go according to plan. But don't worry, I'll call a cab."

"Nonsense," Bruce inserted himself into the conversation, "we'll give you a ride."

"There is no need for that," Crane refused but Y/N completely ignored it.

"Seriously, it won't be any problem?" she asked, walking up closer to him. Too close for Jonathans' liking.

"Absolutely none," he replied without a second thought.

"You're the best," she smiled brightly, "I'd stay for coffee, maybe do some shopping for Jonathan. I know a moment ago I was talking about work but…"

"Relax," Wayne interrupted her, "do what you have to do and come to work later. I don't see any problem."

"But Mister Fox…"

"Flexible working hours, remember?" he noted, "don't worry about Lucius. I'll take care of it."

"Bruce, I don't know," she hesitated.

"But I do," he interrupted her again, "let's get your stitches out and get out of here," he decided, " Doctor Crane if you're done why don't you wait outside with me? Let's give Y/N a little privacy."

The nurse nodded, gave final instructions advising Jonathan that for the next few days he should take things easy, avoid long baths and soaking the wound, keep it clean, and report for a check up if necessary. She also instructed him to pick up a discharge card before leaving, then bid them both good day, focusing her attention on Y/N.

"We'll wait outside," Bruce threw in her direction before closing the door behind him.

They were left alone. Although the hospital life in the hallway was bustling with machine sounds, conversations, raised directions, clattering equipment, and whining patients a complete silence settled between them. Standing on one side of the door, Jonathan occasionally glanced silently toward Bruce, who without a word pulled out his phone and immersed himself, as Jonathan could only assume, in his work. "Bruce fucking Wayne," he cursed in his mind, "on top of everything I have to deal with him. As if it wasn't enough that Y/N drew to me Joker and Batman she had to catch his attention. Fucking magnet for trouble."

"Mister Wayne," he began, glaring at him from above his glasses, "thank you again for offering to drive me home but I assure you it won't be necessary. I'm sure someone of your status has much more important things to do."

"As I said, it's no problem," Bruce replied without taking his eyes off the phone screen, "Y/N was very worried about you, I can see how important this is to her. It's the least I can do."

"Speaking of Y/N," Jonathan lowered his tone and stood closer to him, "let me be direct and ask, what do you want from her?"

"I beg your pardon?" Bruce glared at him sternly.

"A simple question Mister Wayne."

"I believe it is none of your business Doctor Crane."

"It happens to be my business," Crane countered, "you see, Y/N is in a very fragile state right now. When I met her she already had a ton of problems and buried trauma to work through and, let's be honest, Gotham hasn't been kind to her. I'm sure you know that. She looks like she's fine but the experience makes me wonder how much she can take before she snaps," his gaze traveled through the glass of the door in her direction then returned to him.

"Your point?" Wayne's face expressed no emotion.

"She was making fantastic progress and then you showed up and she stopped. She is living in denial and you are the distraction that gave her an escape route," Crane continued, "please understand me, I only have her best interests at heart."

"She is lucky to have a friend like you," Wayne remained unmoved.

"Leave her alone," Crane's words sounded closer to a warning, "for her sake. Let's not fool ourselves sooner or later this will end in tragedy. At the risk of offending you, Mister Wayne, everyone knows your reputation. How long will it be before you get tired of her and move on to the next flavor of the season? Weeks? Months perhaps? Y/N doesn't look at you through the same lenses as others, and I assume you must find it extremely refreshing. But sooner or later you will disappear and leave destruction behind," Jonathan's cold gaze confronted Bruce's stern one, "all I want is to protect her from the inevitable. Y/N is strong but I can't let her take another hit. I'm not sure I'll be able to help her put herself back together."

"I'm sure Y/N would appreciate your concern," Bruce spoke gravely, "and I will agree with you on one thing, she cannot take another hit. But rest assured you won't be helping her put herself back together."

"I'm glad we understand each other."

The door to the treatment center opened brightening their surroundings again.

"Stitches are out, another sexy scar for the collection!" Y/N sassed with a broad smile, "I don't know about you but I'm so ready to leave the hospital! I could use some coffee though!"

On the way out of the hospital, Y/N didn't hide her joy at seeing Crane back on his feet. Yesterday's sadness and despair had disappeared replaced by her usual cheerfulness and Bruce couldn't help but wonder how much of it was an act. The intrusive thought prompted him to imagine how easily she would have found her place in his world returned but he quickly pushed it away focusing his attention on observation. She kept asking him about his health, about what the doctors said, about what recommendations he had, and he politely answered. But the politeness of his voice had nothing to do with the expression on his face that Bruce monitored in the rearview mirror. Restrained and cold, time and again laced with a calculated smile as he glanced in her direction. Bruce had seen this expression countless times and understood very well what it meant, Crane was hiding a completely different emotion. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone in his company. But Sunday's incident did not bring him any closer and Y/N was proving more and more every day to be his biggest clue and perhaps his best chance to expose him. He had to take that risk. He had to push aside his feelings for the greater good. The unease he felt suspecting him of being involved with the attacks on the people of Gotham, of messing with Y/N's mind, was becoming increasingly more justified and after the night's conversation, it almost became a fact. An uneasiness that was now further intensified by his growing jealousy. But what worried him, even more, was that Y/N seemed to completely ignore the obvious signs. She was so eager to jump right back into the middle of danger as if her instincts were working in reverse. Driven by concern for others, she completely disregarded her own safety, which she only proved to him yet again last night. He had to act quickly and discreetly. He had to find hard evidence that he could use against him before it was too late before Y/N becomes his next victim. But for now, he had no choice but to hope that after the failed attack Crane would be cautious that, if necessary, Y/N would activate the transmitter he had given her. That he was not making a mistake.

He stopped the car outside the small building that Crane had pointed out to him and carefully scanned his surroundings. "A few CCTV cameras, no problem," he quickly counted six that could record images located nearby, "but neighbors' prying eyes could be," he scanned the surrounding buildings, combining the number of parked cars with the number of tilted windows, "I'll have to come at night, make sure Crane isn't home, disrupt the cameras, turn off the street lights, and get in through the balcony window, preferably from the roof," he planned quickly as he got out of the car and walked around it to open her door and help her out.

"Thank you again," she smiled, standing in front of him with her hand still holding his. He didn't let go.

"Let me know when you're ready. I'll send a driver to pick you up," he ordered.

"Come on. I can call an Uber."

"All right. In that case, the driver will wait for you as long as it takes," he replied gently but leaving no room for argument.

"You don't take no for an answer, don't you Mister Wayne," she smirked.

"I do not," he smirked back, "don't be long."

"I won't," she replied, slipping her hand out of his hand. He didn't let her. Instead, he put his arm around her waist, pulled her closer and kissed her. She didn't resist. The brief surprise subsided when her lips softly welcomed his as her free hand rested on his chest. Her lips craved it as much as his, and although they both maintained decent control, he prolonged the kiss.

"I'll see you later…" he said when their lips finally parted then kissed her again briefly, nodded shortly to Crane, got into the car and drove away.

One glance in Jonathan's direction was enough to cool your burning feelings. His face set in stone and devoided of emotion, a cold and disappointed look, without a word he headed towards the entrance of the building while you followed. The rest of the day did not look pleasant, but you could not simply ignore him. For the past months he had been there for you every time you needed him, so now it was time for you to be there for him. Even if everything was much more complicated now. You were ready to endure his reluctance and aloofness, maybe even anger, if it meant that you would be able to take care of him the way he took care of you. After all, he was the one who stepped forward to defend the people, standing up to your friend and the Joker. After all, it was your friend who got him into the hospital.

As you walked in silence up the stairs leading to his apartment on the third floor, you couldn't help but reflect on your Sunday conversation, on the words he said that made everything feel different. He cared about you more than you thought and in the meantime you let Bruce sweep you off your feet and take you to Wonderland. Simultaneously, with that in your mind, you allowed Bruce to think that Jonathan was just a friend to you, you took advantage of his understanding and lack of knowledge when you could have simply been honest with him. Perhaps Jonathan was right, perhaps lies and half-truths indeed came too easily to you? Life around you seemed to take on a frenetic pace, events unfolded one after another and you tried your best to keep everything under control. Failing miserably.

"So, you and Wayne are like a thing right now?" Jonathan asked bluntly as soon as the apartment door closed behind you.

"Wow, that was quick," you snarked with a frown.

"What else did you expect? That we would waltz around the subject?"

"No pun intended, huh?" you scoffed angrily, "I don't know, maybe the usual hey coffee on the second shelf in the cabinet above the countertop."

"Coffee on the second shelf in the cabinet above the countertop," he snarled, "I need a shower and a change of clothes. I stink of the hospital," he added then disappeared behind the closed door of his bedroom.

"Fantastic start, great job," you sighed throwing the jacket and bag on the armchair to head toward the kitchen, "but he's right. What did I expect?" You turned on the coffee maker, then the air conditioner to pull out the stuffy air then opened the window to let out the weird smell spreading through the apartment. You regretted not taking your cigarettes with you. You could use one right now. Instead, caffeine had to be enough. The black one which you hated. But the milk had managed to spoil in the four days of his absence. You couldn't find any cream either. Neither could you find bread, nor any essentials. The refrigerator was glowing empty.

"When was the last time you cleaned the air conditioner!" you threw loudly in the direction of the bedroom, "and did any shopping? Your refrigerator is empty like no one has been here for weeks!"

"I've been eating out or at work a lot lately, and the AC is broken," he replied, as he walked out of the bedroom. Dressed in a suit, a clean white shirt and a silver tie tied tightly around his neck, he looked like he was heading straight to work. Only the wet hair pulled back from his face implied otherwise.

"The doctor told you to take things slowly," you scolded, "I'm going to run down to the grocery store, and cook something for today and tomorrow. Stay at home."

"I have work to do," he grunted under his breath while pouring himself a cup of coffee, "I'm not going to sit at home and do nothing."

"You said you'd take an overdue vacation."

"I have other work to do."

"What other work?"

"Other work," he repeated with emphasis, "outside the hospital. Stop with the questions. You know I don't just work at the hospital. My patients have been unattended for the last four days. I have to check on them."

"Jonathan I'm sure your patients will understand that you need a few days off," he avoided your gaze, "work is the last thing you should be thinking about right now."

"Look who's talking," he mocked, "how quickly did you get back to work?"

"On Monday," you admitted, "but it's not the same. I only got a cut. You got a baseball bat to the head."

"Why did you run after her!" he asked suddenly and his gaze finally focused on you, "why do you keep running toward danger? You're only drawing attention to yourself," anger blazed in his eyes.

"You know very well why," you replied calmly, "I had to do something."

"No, you didn't have to!" usually subdued this time he raised his voice, "you didn't have to Y/N! Normal people see danger and run away in the opposite direction! You run towards it!"

"Maybe I have things to make up for," you argued quietly.

"What things? What aren't you telling me again!"

"I didn't come here to talk about myself," you muttered, "I'm no longer one of your patients you have to check on."

"You're right, you're not," sounded menacingly. Jonathan stepped closer trapping you between the kitchen counter and his own body. "You're not my patient. You won't be my patient ever again. But you are a woman I care about, whose well being I care about. The fact that Wayne came into your life doesn't do any good."

"We're not going to talk about Bruce," you snapped.

"He's playing with you."

"You don't know him, you have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Fuck! Y/N you sound like Qunizel," he laughed, "and you supposedly know him? He's a womanizer! Playboy. Everyone knows about it! He changes women like his suits! He constantly shows up with another one! I thought you were smarter than that."

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

"You're not special," he smirked spitefully, "you're just another one."

"It was a mistake for me to come here," you growled slamming your coffee mug on the countertop, "I thought we could continue being…"

"Don't say friends," he interrupted you, "no, we won't be friends. Friends don't lie to each other."

"I am more honest with you than with anyone else!" you lied without thinking, "I thought you of all people understand that it is not easy to talk about certain things!"

"You lie, you lie constantly," he placed his hands on the countertop on both your sides, "you hide from me, you conceal the truths. And even though I confronted you with this barely a few days ago, you are doing it again."

"Get away from me…" you whispered, trying to find a little distance. You had never seen him so angry.

"He is bad for you Y/N," Jonathan continued lowering tone of voice, "he brings to you danger you can't see. Don't you have enough excitement? Do you really need an aristocrat who will entertain himself with you and leave you more broken than you already are?"

"Space, please…" you looked at him fiercely but he only pushed back the hair falling on your cheek before trailing his hand along your neck.

"But you like it. You like danger," resounded from within him ominously, "after all, no one forced you to go to the Penguin Club, to risk your life back then on the bridge, to confront Harleen, to seek help from Batman instead of me."

"Jonathan stop…" you warned while the familiar feeling inside you reawakened. Energy seemed to pulsate through your veins, filling your body, infusing the muscles, forcing you to act.

"How did you feel when the Joker put the blade to your face?" he asked as he pressed his hand to your throat, "were you afraid?"

"I was not afraid."

"Lies," the green eyes brightened intensely, "lies, lies, lies. Did I ever tell you how much I hate liars?" he clenched his hand tighter on your neck.

"I'm not lying," you replied stubbornly.

"Were you afraid when the black waters of the bay filled the car?" he ran his free hand up your thigh, "when life began to flee from you?"

"I wasn't afraid," you replied unmoved but inside the energy was burning. The same energy that pushed you to act, the same energy that made reality seem to yield ignited your senses. It was furious.

"Were you afraid back then, when in visions you lost control over your own body? Over your own will?" he moved his hand over your hip while tightening the other more firmly around your neck, "powerless, hopeless."

"Take your hands off me…" you warned.

"I'm not going to hurt you," a deep smokey voice assured, "I'm just trying to help you."

"Stop it…" your senses ignited dangerously as his hand moved higher up your waist.

"You're afraid," his eyes demanded submission, "you're afraid. I can see it…" he slid his hand under your blouse, "I can feel it…" he smiled with satisfaction, "but you like it."

"I said stop!!!" you shouted extending both hands in front of you and pushing him away. Energy flew out of you sending Jonathan several steps backward. A fright took over you when you saw his shocked face, "I'm sorry…" you whispered but he only smiled.

"How did you do that?" he was fascinated.

"I don't know."

"Do it again," he demanded moving toward you. His eyes blazed.

"I don't know how."

"Do it!"

"I can't! I don't know how!"

"But I know…" he growled menacingly jumping at you again, "I told you that fear controls you. I told you what power it has over you," he closed the space between you again, "admit it. You are afraid."

"I am," you replied, looking into his burning lustful eyes, "but not of you."

"What are you afraid of?"

"Loss of control," you replied, "I'm afraid of this strength that's inside me," you looked at your hands, "I'm afraid of my thoughts. Of the fact that I might hurt someone. I'm afraid they'll lock me up. The feeling of powerlessness."

"Let it go," he grabbed your hands firmly, "give me your fear. Let it go. Feel the strength," he tightened his hands around your wrists, "I can make you stronger than you have ever been. Free from the fear that limits you," he murmured softly, "I have opened your mind, I will take away your fear and fill you with power you have never known. I will show you the world as I see it. I will open to you possibilities you didn't know you had," his hands gripped tighter on your wrists, "we could do so much together."

"Stop…" you whispered slipping your hands out of his, "I can't control something I don't know. I could hurt someone. Like then…"

"You'd rather others hurt you!" he shouted grasping your arms. You squirmed in pain. "You'd rather they were the ones inflicting wounds on you!" he gripped your arms tighter.

"You're hurting me!" you groaned as his fingers painfully dug into the wound.

"You'd rather be a victim!"

"No!"

"How did you feel when you took control! How did you feel when you inflicted pain on those who hurt you!" blood ran down your arm, "how did you feel when you lost control for a moment!"

"Alive…" you whispered quietly, "I felt alive."

"You are chasing danger," he growled, "danger excites you," he pulled you close, "it fills you with this burning exhilaration."

"It does."

"They've used you, they've abused you," danger ignited in his eyes again, "you continue to let them. Those who held you, your friend, Batman," his hands took hold of your neck again, "they tightened the noose of fear around you and you let them," he clenched tighter, "they suffocate you. And you let them. How much can you take before you snap?"

"What makes you think I haven't already," you whispered pulling toward him ignoring the pain pushing against your throat, "I remember the terror I felt in the past. Fear, helplessness, pain, weakness. You helped me remember," you released one of his hands from your neck placed it again on your waist. He squeezed painfully. "I remember the harm that was done to me, the will that was taken from me," you released his other hand. His eyes widened with fascination. "I remember how they cut me, stabbed me, tested me," you ran his hand down your arms, tracing each vein directing it upward, over your breasts where electrodes used to be pinned, down over your stomach to direct it down to your back toward the spine where needles used to be inserted. "I remember their laughter, I remember the mocking, I remember the voices and faces of the people who did this to me," the hand on your waist clenched tightly as the other pulled you closer, "I didn't tell you. I remember more than I would like to remember."

"What do you want?" he asked as his hand traveled further down to slip under your skirt.

"Justice," you replied as your body trembled.

"What do you really want?" he tightened his hand painfully on your hip.

"Vengeance," you smiled, "I want to make them afraid as much as I was afraid," the green of his eyes grew sinister. You grabbed his jacket and yanked him closer, "I want you to show me your world. As you see it. I want to lose control."

His hand clenched harder but your scream stifled his violent kiss. He drew you close while his lips began to greedily drink the hatred from yours. You threw your arms around his neck and drew him stronger to you. The pain on your hip disappeared when his fingers entwined in your hair and yanked strongly back.

"If you lie to me," he began ominously.

"Awh, come on Doc! Are you scared?" you purred, unleashing lust in him. You grabbed his neck and drew him back to you. His strong arm wrapped around you as his tongue forced its way into your mouth. You moaned as his hand went under your blouse, closing on your breast. He pushed against you with all his strength, kissing your neck, your collarbones, caressing your nipple with his fingers. Taking advantage of the countertop, you gently bounced up and wrapped your legs around his waist. He hardened against you as with one hand holding you in the air he pulled off your blouse with the other. You entwined your fingers in his still damp hair as his greedy lips closed on your breast. Blood pulsed in your temples as he sat you down on the countertop and slid his freed hand between your legs. You tugged at his hair forcing him to look at you. The green in his burned venomously. You drowned again in his lips. In his passionate, lustful lips. You drowned in freedom, in bliss, in anger, in hatred as his fingers began to wander at your entrance. Kissing incessantly, you loosened his tie, ripped his shirt open while buttons scattered over the floor. His fingers entered you as you dug your nails into the exposed skin of his arms. You moaned in pleasure as you slid your hand into his pants.

"Show me," you whispered in his ear sensing him hard under your fingers, "show me what it's like to be powerful," you tightened your grip on him, "take away my fears," he pulsed in your hand, "make me free." He pulled his fingers out of you, grabbed your hips and lifted you allowing your legs to wrap around his waist again. Devouring lips crashed against yours again.

"I'll do a lot more than that," he breathed against your lips.

"Do whatever the fuck you want," you murmured in delight as he continued to hold you in the air while heading for the bedroom. With a kick, he opened the door as his passionate kisses caressed your neck. He threw you on the bed and ripped off your skirt. Naked, uncovered, you watched as he slipped his pants off revealing himself in all his glory. Your hand went between your legs invitingly. You moaned as he watched you tease. You didn't stop when he climbed onto the bed positioning himself on top of you. When his hands and lips began to cup your breasts again. He gripped your hips painfully as he pulsed at your entrance. He ran his fingers along your thighs only to slide down lower a moment later to kiss the inner of your thighs, to tease your lips with his tongue. You moaned arching under his touch. Giving him temporary power over your body.

"I knew you were hiding from me," he whispered as his eyes shone in front of yours again, "why these games. Why the lies?" he asked kissing you passionately, teasing you with his aroused hardness, "what was the game of appearances for?" he asked sliding over your wet entrance.

"I needed to understand," you replied arching toward him, "I needed to remember," you wrapped your leg around him encouragingly, "maybe I was afraid."

"I'll show you fear," he growled entering you violently, "I'll show you the fear no one knows," you moaned and he thrust in again, "I'll show you what power fear has," you spread your legs and he pushed in deeper, "I'll show you how to control it," a cry of delight broke out as he penetrated deep. Harder, with rhythmic movements, he moved inside you pressing you with all his weight against the mattress. Slowly and steadily at first, only to increase the pace as your body began to beg for more. He sped up and slowed down while his breath cooled your burning skin. He teased you with his fingers pressing his lips to your breasts as you moaned from pleasure with each violent thrust. Your body trembled as he knelt down, grabbed your hips and began to push rhythmically, deeper and more intense. A loud ecstasy filled the room as he pressed his hands against your breasts. Your body arched when his lust took over you as he drove his fingers into your hips pushing into you with all his strength filling you with an electrifying feeling of freedom. You were close to the end but he was just beginning. With a swift movement, he turned you on your stomach, trapped your legs tightly between his own and thrust into you violently, pressing his whole body against yours.

"Is this what you wanted?" he again clamped his hand on your throat tilting you back pumping intensely, "pain and pleasure," he rammed into you harder, "are you afraid?"

"No," you groaned.

"You should be," he purred sliding out of you only to lift you up, sit on the bed and let your legs wrap around him tightly as you slid down onto him. His lips once again found their way to yours. Found a path down your neck to your breasts. His hands tightened around you again as pleasure filled you completely. An explosion of sensations as you took control sliding out and onto him. The thrill of desire as you sank your nails into him, rising and falling rhythmically, making him penetrate you deeper with each movement. Your bodies pulsed in unison as he pressed you tightly against him with one hand while the other wandered into the drawers of the nightstand. He took control and quickened his pace, you felt blood under your fingernails. He tugged your hair and lustfully began to pleasure your breasts. Exhilaration pulsed in every bit of your body as his fingers found their way to your rear entrance sliding inside. Your body trembled in his hands as his tongue circled around your nipples while he ravaged your insides. You muffled cries in his neck as he invaded your rear with his fingers thrusting from both sides. Another orgasm shook your body but Jonathan only laughed deeply. He slid his fingers out of you, paused for a moment inside you, yanked painfully on your hair tilting your head back, and before you had time to react he sprayed gas right in your face.

Fear gripped you completely. Terror took over all other emotions when Jonathan's face twisted into a wraithlike smile. The lights suddenly seemed brighter, the sounds seemed louder, the blood in your temples seemed to pulse harder than anything else. Panic overwhelmed you completely as you drove your nails into his chest. His eyes blazed venomously as acid rushed from his mouth. His fingers suddenly seemed rough, scratching your skin painfully. His lips savaged yours until blood flowed as he laid you back on the bed with a terrifying smile, grabbing your arms above your head with one hand while pressing the other against your mouth.

"Don't scream," he ordered sliding slowly out of you, "I know you're scared but you can't scream," with his legs he spread yours wider, "you won't scream will you?" he didn't wait for an answer. He rammed into you violently while his hand muffled your cries. Again and again, with a rhythmic throbbing movement, he ripped your insides apart, thrusting harder and deeper each time. "You're so beautiful when you're afraid," he whispered, pulsing inside you, "when terror makes you want to scream but you can't," he pounded harder, "when all your nightmares come crashing down on you and there's nothing you can do!" he exclaimed, ramming into you.

The world suddenly flooded with white again. The white of bright burning lights fell on your bare skin, hurting your eyes, burning your senses.

"That's it," he pushed in harder, "feel the fear. Let go."

They were cutting, slashing and stabbing and there was nothing you could do. Red life was escaping from you through plastic tubes and you couldn't stop it. Powerless. You wanted to scream, but his hand covered your mouth. You wanted to cry but the light seemed to burn the tears in your eyes. Only the violent thrusting sensation slamming into you again and again. Only his exhilarated murmur when the acid from his mouth seemed to flow into yours. Only his strokes between your legs invading you. You snatched your hands from his grasp and sank your fingers into his paper skin, tearing it apart. He moaned in pleasure as he advanced inside you. You sank them in once more but he refused to be hurt again. The only venom in his eyes glistened as he turned you on your stomach for a second time and rammed into you. Pillows stifled a scream when you felt him deeper than before. Like a nightmare monster, he invaded you from behind while a laugh of satisfaction echoed through the apartment. You were completely subject to his will. Powerless as he slid his hand in front and with his burning fingers began to tease you. Acid burned through the skin on your neck and your back as he devoured your flesh. The blazing light burned your senses with each successive thrust. They cut, sliced, and stabbed as he crushed you with his whole body, grabbed your neck with both hands, and squeezed hard pushing down harder and deeper and faster until finally a cry tore through space with the feeling of acid pouring inside you.

Darkness fell.

The monster sank down heavily beside you cradling its hideous face into your neck.

In the darkness you found peace.

"I'm glad you came," he whispered kissing your back, " I really didn't want to kill you," he wrapped his arms around you, "and now that you are mine, I can show you my world."

A single tear ran down your cheek.

You were scared.

***

Chapter thirteen: Questionable choices

~~***~~ Author note: No comment... Well maybe except, I don't know how this happened, it just happened, I wasn't planning on this, I definitely wasn't planning on this! And honestly, for about a week I was thinking about removing that scene and reworking the whole chapter. But ultimately I decided to leave it. I don't know, it ain't my usual thing to write, but it kinda fitted the story, will see where it's gonna lead. I have tons of ideas moving forward. So I hope you won't mind this well...let's call it a moment of weakness. Till the next time Dear Reader! ~~***~~ Tag list: @mrsgrahamsdesign @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @batgirlspain @hangmanscoming @julesjewelss36 @cherryflavoredcoke @grandstrangerphantom @maripositanoctruna @pluckastarfromthesky @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @pirate-with-internet-connection

90 notes · View notes