#Jonathan Crane drabble | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

your-nanas-house · 4 months

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Please give me a Jonathan Crane smut plsssss

I need this man to be OBSESSED with boobs pls

Yes....Yes. I love boobies and I love Crane so...YES!! *chefs kiss*

Those round pillows of hers

◇ Pairing: sub!Jonathan Crane x Girlfriend!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, just Jonathan fucking Y/n's breasts, pathetic Jonathan

◇ Summary: Jonathan is pretty eager to finally put his cock back between his girlfriend's boobs.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

Crane’s baby blue eyes remained fixed on his girlfriend, his dilated pupils and his slightly red cheeks, caused from the heat of the need he felt, just added something to his already noticeable state of submission.

His cock was still imprisoned in his pants, nearly begging him to free it by rubbing against the soft cloth of them, every time he moved slightly in his sitting position. That long and painful wait that Y/n was making him suffer was quickly becoming a kind of torture for him.

The young woman, standing in front of him; her focus not anymore on her usual skin routine but on her boyfriend, given the small whines and begs that Jonathan used just to make her give in to his self-centered needs.

Her shirt was thrown on the cold floor, near his feet. He was sitting on the edge of the sofa ready to obey the next order that Y/n could have given him, as soon as her teasing mood would fade.

"Pleasee—" Jonathan whimpered, sweet tears were forming in his shining eyes, clear desperation and visible arousal forming in them given his dilated pupils, which covered almost completely the color that enchanted Y/n every time she stopped to look at them.

After that something woke her up from her trance, she stopped admiring her boyfriend patetic self and finally moved her hands, taking the lotion she was using for her skin before lingering her y/e/c eyes back on Jonathan, opening his legs with hers.

"Get rid of your clothes, will you, baby boy?" she asked him with a voice between teasing and lust, her hands now busy massaging lotion on her tits while the bra was still on, covering enough to increase Jonathan’s feeling of need and eagerness.

"Please" he repeated, his breath getting heavier and his voice cracking softly, as Y/n lowered the fabric to reveal her breasts completely, slightly approaching him only to allow his warm lips to wrap around her now erect nipple.

As her hands continued to massage the soft flesh of her chest, adding a little more lotion from time to time to make them more slippery and ready to receive Crane’s throbbing cock, which stood straight against his stomach now, his balls full and heavy, in need of an imminent release.

The fourth little plea from the psychiatrist was enough to make her finally kneel down, putting her bra back before settling between his open legs— her hands firmly on his thighs almost like a message or an invitation to make him take what he wanted.

His hand wrapped around his cock, pumping it a couple of times as his eyes remained on her boobs; only his little whimpers and praises broke the silence that had formed before he aligned his length between her breasts, pushing up his hips to seek the pleasure he was wishing for, while they almost enveloped his cock completely.

Thanks to the lotion that Y/n had used before, the movements for Jonathan were way easier and pleasant, his hips moved almost automatically while she was still there, kneeled on the carpet of their living room, bouncing to meet his thrusts–- her lower lip caged between her teeth as she watched Jonathan’s desperate look, his eyes still staring and stable on her breasts, despite the movements of his hips and the shaking of his body caused by the pleasure he was feeling.

His desperate little 'yes' accompanied by heavy breaths and whimpers, warned Y/n of the imminent ending, which came like a train into Jonathan’s body— making him tremble and arch his back as he allowed himself to release his load on her boobs and her face before starting over again. Too fond of her boobs and the pillow-sensation they gave him to stop, despite overstimulation.

Taglist:

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yandereunsolved · 13 days

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— Yandere Jonathan Crane —

"Do you know where you are?

"Arkham Asylum."

"Good. Your memory is improving. Are you still having those dreams?"

"Yes."

"I want you to describe them to me again. I know you don't remember much."

"I-It was extremely dark out. I remember that. There was this strange smell in the air. It goes blank after that. I vaguely remember feeling someone's hands ghost my body. When I woke up, it was a massacre. They were dead all around me."

"You had a psychotic breakdown. There was a leaking gas pipe that caused you to hallucinate. When the Gotham police came to the crime scene they say they saw you with a mask in hand."

"It was more like a straw bag. I-I don't remember ever having anything like that before... except for when you—"

"I see the light bulb appearing above your head. You are very smart, you know? That's why I picked you."

"Scarecrow."

"Such an astute observation. I wouldn't suggest you start screaming. No one will believe someone diagnosed as clinically insane, especially not someone who committed mass murder, such as yourself. I see you are sobbing now. It's a natural bodily reaction to relieving stress. Would you like a tissue, my dear?"

"Why?"

"Oh? You ask the predator why it stalks its prey? That's a question I am delighted to answer. It's simple, really. I am intoxicated by you."

#yandere #jonathan crane #dc scarecrow #scarecrow #yandere jonathan crane #yandere imagine #imagine #reader imagine #aesthetic board #jonathan crane x reader #yandere jonathan crane x reader #drabble #yandere thoughts #batman #cillian murphy #dc characters #dc villian #dc villains

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heartshapedmisery · 7 months

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day two! ⇢ roleplay with jonathan crane

warnings! ⇢ MINORS DNI 18+ | jonathan crane x fem!reader, fingering, quickie, doctor/patient roleplay, dacryphilia, semi-public sex, 'doctor' k!nk, creampie, unprotected p in v sex, lmk if I missed anything!

notes! ⇢ AHHHHHHHH had a lot of fun with this one 🤭 sorry if this is a little rushed, been busy lately. next post is scheduled for tomorrow!

"What if someone walks in?" you breathed, your fingers grasping at the lapel of his blazer as he laid you down on the stiff leather couch, moving to settle his hips into the space between your legs.

"Shh," he cooed, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear. His fingers were cold against your warm skin, sending chills down your spine as they moved down to tug your skirt up over your hips. "Don't worry, baby. Just missed you so much, need to feel you."

You were in his office. After hours, of course. He had stayed later than normal to file some reports, so you decided to surprise him with your presence just after he saw his last patient of the day. But, you never expected him to be this needy.

"Been thinking about you all day," he whispered as his lips attacked your neck, his hands roaming all the way down your body—making you shudder. "How your sweet little pussy would feel wrapped around my cock."

"Please, Dr. Crane," you moaned with a sly grin, grinding your hips against his to get some sort of friction. You watched his eyes as they darkened, a wild smirk cracking across his lips at the name. "Need you to help me."

"Oh, yeah? Show me what hurts, baby," he played along, his eyes trailing after your hand as it slipped down to the spot between your legs.

"Need you here," you breathed, your fingertips grazing your clothed core. His piercing blue eyes made you feel vulnerable as he drank you in, but you couldn't get enough of it.

Excitement buzzed in your chest as his hand moved between the two of you, unzipping his pants and tugging himself out of his boxers. Carefully, he moved your panties over to the side swiftly, before aligning his tip with your entrance.

"Don't worry. Gonna make you all better, sweetheart," he sank into you with one fluid thrust, his hips becoming flush with yours as strained moans ripped from your chests in unison. He felt so deep inside of you, stretching your walls so sweetly you couldn't help but clench around him.

"Fuck!" you praised, your hands climbing up his back to pull him closer to you as your head fell back against the armrest. "Please, Dr. Crane!"

His hips stuttered at your words as they developed their own rythym thrusting in and out of you, your legs interlocked around his hips to keep him from pulling too far out.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted into your neck, peppering sweet kisses along your skin in the process. "Just what I needed."

You didn't notice his hand moving between the two of you until you felt his fingers brush with your clit, rubbing the sensitive bud as he continued to fuck you. The euphoric feeling made you ecstatic, your eyes rolling back as you got lost in your own pleasure.

"Yeah, you like that, don't you?" he praised, moving faster as he brought his lips to yours to silence your wanton moans.

He was sure nobody would walk in on the two of you since there was an unwritten rule in the department of not disturbing him when his door was shut, but he didn't want to give anyone ideas of what exactly you were getting up to in his office.

"Shh, baby," he cooed in your ear, his thrusts getting harder and deeper as you soaked his cock. His free hand moved to cover your mouth, replacing his lips to silence your uncontrollable whimpers. "Can't have my whole department knowing how good I fuck you, hm? Don't know how much they'd appreciate one of their doctors fucking his patient."

You shook your head, barely able to make out his words as your arousal fogged your mind. You could hardly think straight as he pounded into you, and his fingers rubbed imperfect figure eights on your clit. It was all becoming too much, the familiar coil in your stomach tightening as you could feel him bringing you closer to your climax. But he didn't let up, if anything his pace quickened as he felt you nearing your orgasm.

"You gonna come for me, baby? Gonna come on this cock?" he said through gritted teeth, pounding into you between his words for emphasis. He was making your head spin, tears beginning to well in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks.

"Yes, Fuck!" you whimpered when he finally uncupped his hand from your mouth. "Feels so good, Dr. Crane."

Your body felt limp as you writhed under him, so close to your high that you could barely speak. His brows tugged together as he noticed your tears, his lips moving to kiss them away from your cheeks. "Don't cry, baby. Just tryna help you feel better."

Your back arched off the couch and into him, your arm slinging around his neck to keep his chest close to yours. You weren't going to last much longer, and by the feeling of his hips slowing from their rapid pace, he wasn't either.

"Let go, baby," he purred, unraveling your clouded thoughts as your body listened to him, a sense of euphoria spreading throughout your body like wildfire. Your orgasm hit you hard, your legs shaking around his waist as he got in a few more deep thrusts before stilling his hips.

A strangled groan ripped from his throat as he came deep inside of you, filling your already-soaked cunt as his eyes screwed shut, his orgasm rolling over him.

"Atta girl," he praised, placing a quick kiss to your jaw once he gathered himself again. His seed was warm and dull inside of you, the feeling alone sending chills across your body as you felt him begin to pull out. His eyes fell to your entrance as he watched the head of his length fall out of you, only a few seconds passing until he saw his release ooze out of your cunt.

The look on his face was dark but devious, a small smirk evident on his lips. "Christ, baby. Never getting tired of this cunt, might need to do that again." His lips trailed up your jaw and neck before stopping right next to your ear, his voice low and sultry. "Doctor's orders."

#jonathan crane #scarecrow #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #jonathan crane smut #batman begins #kinktober #kinktober2023 #scarlet was here!#scar's drabbles

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lily-radiance · 1 month

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Picture Perfect Psychopath

Doctor Jonathan Crane/ fem reader.

3.9k words

(So far, this is just a drabble, but I do have an idea of where this story could go. I've been watching The Dark Knight trilogy and got inspired. Reader works at Arkham Asylum as a psychiatrist, sharing the field of study with Scarecrow and old flame Harley Quinn. Likely not canon-compliant. Kinda merged various movies since I'm no comic book expert.)

Arkham Asylum is a cesspool of depraved criminals, as it has been for the past few years. Typical people who are suffering from mental illnesses and were sent away without care were obvious. This institution was the cheapest and easiest way to lock up the sick, even before the creation of the vigilantes. Everyone in Gotham City knew to keep their eyes on the ground and act as if crimes were invisible. If you cause a fuss in any shape or form, don't be surprised if you get dragged away in a body bag. You hated the mere thought of disregarding the pain of the city, but what could you do if no one would listen? Criminals, no matter the type, always have a story to tell.

“Bruce, the next time you interrupt my work for a house call, I'm stealing your Batmobile!”

You've been sitting in Wayne Manor for the past two hours, all because your friend wanted to “check-in” on the status of the newest patients. On any other day, you might have given him leniency, but he's been siphoning you for information without a decent break. Now, you not only have to write and submit a few dozen reports before sunset, all while juggling Bruce Wayne. The billionaire rolls his eyes but smiles, enjoying a day where he can loosen up and act as a person instead of a shadow.

“Nice try, but the garage is foolproof. I learned my lesson when you took my ride for a spin last year.”

You sip the cola in your hand, amused at the memory of speeding around the house and getting the vehicle caked in dirt. You apologized to Alfred when realizing the butler had to clean it afterward.

“Too bad, I was hoping to test the maximum speed,” you said with a chuckle, “I'm kidding, of course.”

“Sometimes, I worry about your coworkers. Do they know how much damage you can cause when bored?”

You glare at him from the couch. Work was something you liked to keep separate from life; he knew that very well. After all, if someone identified Batman successfully, then Wayne Enterprises would crumble in on itself.

“Do you know how much damage you cause when I'm not around to cover your tracks? Honestly, you may give Alfred a heart attack.”

The butler frowns at your humor before taking your empty glass. You notice the lipstick mark left over, reminding yourself to reapply the makeup. Psychiatric professionals do their best to look formal, and this habit has followed them since college. When you consider the many polished individuals at the facility, one is always at the forefront of your mind: Doctor Jonathan Crane. No matter the time of day, his appearance is that of near perfection, or you like to think so. Today, you have a briefing with him, and the idea has prompted you to dress to impress; the shade of cherry red on your lips is a testament to that.

“I'm always careful, (Y/N). I have Gordon, Alfred, and Lucius for that very purpose. You know Arkham is filled with lunatics and, more specifically, the worst villains.”

“We've had this conversation before, Bruce. I'm good at my job, and the people you lock up are kept in the deepest parts. Plus, I always hear exciting stories, which makes time fly by!”

He gives you a stern glance, not happy with your unbothered attitude. You drop the smile and sigh.

“I know you think I can't handle myself in that place. You get up close and personal with villains more often than I do. Every floor has a ton of security guards, not to mention cameras and passcodes in each room!”

Eventually, he gives up the protective demeanor. If you needed his help, he was the first in line. If not, he would be prepared for the future.

“Right, I know you're responsible and cautious, (Y/N). It's still the institution with the most significant number of patients in Gotham, so I want you to stay alert. Tim and the others are patrolling tonight if you run into trouble. Remember, the GCPD is conducting investigations on a possible new perpetrator.”

You nod to his speech, tapping your heels underneath the coffee table. He is about to give you another piece of information, but the sound of the front door opening and hurried footsteps is your cue to leave. Barbara Gordon, Tim Drake, and Jason Todd enter the room, waving a synchronous greeting in your direction. Your phone beeps in your jacket pocket, and you fumble the device when the caller is listed. Barbara notices your excitement and chuckles, watching as you answer the phone.

“Hello, this is (Y/N) (L/N); how may I help?”

“It's Dr. Crane, as you probably knew judging by how quickly you answered. The administration got caught up in other matters, so it's just you and me. Don't be late.”

The voice catches you off guard, your heart beating too quickly regarding the abrupt message. You lose your ability to speak, and like everything else, he's already caught a glimpse of it.

“Doctor—what about the meeting on security clearances? We still have much to discuss with the board; isn't this important?”

“I've already taken care of most of the concerns. Currently, my priority is talking to you about your individual endeavors regarding Arkham. Do you have an issue with this?”

As he asks, you know he's not looking for an honest answer. You swallow your pride, although tempting to draw on this further.

“No, Doctor. I'm on my way right now.”

“Good, I have high hopes you'll be fascinated by my newest work.”

You have nothing else to add as he hangs up, an annoying habit you wish didn't leave you bitter. Barbara steps over, raising a brow in examination. Your behavior, coupled with the alluring cosmetics on your face, indicates an attention to detail made to attract. The young woman tilts her head, examining your efforts, and pauses. She prevents your curiosity by grabbing a maroon scarf hung on the hat rack and placing it on your neck. As she wraps the fabric loosely around your collar, she discreetly whispers, “In case whoever you see leaves a mark or can't keep you warm. It also matches your lipstick.”

The redhead winks at you, knowing that finding worthwhile men in Gotham is a rare treat. If only you knew who you were falling for, maybe someone else could have turned your head. The likelihood of your coworker getting obsessed with another pretty face was nonexistent, especially when he knew every method of pushing your buttons.

Gotham weather stands to be frigid regardless of the season, and the cold water on your cheeks proves it. Hurriedly, you head to your car, jumping in the driver's seat and turning the hot air on. You flip the sun visor down, using the compartment mirror to double-check your appearance. You smile, wink, and perform other expressions to understand if this is too much. It's not like you dressed yourself in fancy attire, but the makeup sensation tells you this is different—the scarf clings to your shoulders, adding an extra layer of comfort.

The City appears as dreary as ever, with gray clouds looming over the skyscrapers. You knew this landscape was not as picturesque as the Bahamas, but it was familiar. In this place, you felt like a necessary presence, that your actions were genuinely helping people live. Others complain that they think soulless thoughts and have no purpose in a city of thugs, but they don't see the possibilities. No, you appreciated the constant ebb and flow pattern because it meant everything was up to chance. Unlike Harvey Dent, you had no interest in flipping a coin to decide your fate; if you wanted something and could achieve it, why worry about the downfall? Bruce told you to avoid trouble, and maybe if you tried harder, you could, but curiosity always took control. The night turned Gotham into a place of both dreams and nightmares. When the streets glow amber and the windows shine with the moon, the law is subject to change.

Rain slams against the windshield, the downpour forcing you to drive at a snail’s pace. Common sense doesn't stop other drivers from taking risky turns; some cars cut in front despite your right of way. You honk your horn at the reckless speeding, internally regretting this venture. At least twenty minutes have passed since you left, and yet you're still running late. Luckily, most security guards let you pass immediately, while one or two demand identification. If you weren't so anxious, you would see the multiple faults that made Arkham’s reputation. People were lazy, some slacking without a care. Others were too busy dealing with life changes to support this institution.

The repetitive sound of your heels clicking on the tile floor draws someone's attention. Unfortunately, you can barely avoid this girl regularly, so it makes sense that she would be another obstacle.

“Woah, pudding, you getting ready for the runway or something? I haven't seen you wear red in a long time. It makes a girl wonder, what's the occasion?”

Harleen Quinzel stands in her cell, dressed in a jumpsuit that does her no justice. Her usually dyed hair is unkempt and faded, now a dirty blonde with pigment spots. Despite her living situation, her personality is still bubbly. She holds a bent cigarette and takes a drag, then tosses the leftovers underneath her boots. The woman approaches the metal bars, wrapping her hands around two and leaning through the gap. A stream of smoke is exhaled into your face, the delinquent playfully puckering her lips.

“I have a critical meeting with Dr. Crane, and it was supposed to be with the rest of the board until something got in the way. I'm running late, and if I don't get to that office in time—”

Harley raises her index finger, pressing against your lips to stop your words.

“That does sound like a pretty jumbo deal, dollface! From one doctor to another, rescheduling an administrative meeting is unnecessarily convoluted!”

She moves her hand to cup your jaw, tilting your face in multiple angles to glimpse your handiwork. A smile spreads across her lips, her tongue licking the front of her teeth. It makes you nervous, and she knows it.

“I mean, he said he ‘took care of it,’ but I don't know if that necessarily means it was rescheduled. The board could have discussed several possibilities, so I can't guarantee anything.”

You don't know what she's trying to prove.

“Something tells me your lover boy isn't inviting you for a simple coffee. No, with a mind as unpredictable as his, I bet you'll leave here with more than a headache. That is, if you leave at all, dollface.”

Her voice digs further into your mind, higher-pitched as she giggles to herself. You adjust the scarf to distract yourself, but she won't let this topic rest.

“Harley, as much as I appreciate what I assume is a concern, I know what I'm doing.”

“Sure you do, pudding. You think he's all sweet and charming, right? Doctor Jonathan Crane, who wears a nice suit and never gets his hands dirty? He probably compliments your work and swears to get back to your questions. I'll even bet he holds your hand a little too long when he shakes it, and you don't say anything because you want his hand on yours.”

She sees the blush rising to your cheeks and continues to torment you. You can't breathe clearly, not when your lungs burn like this.

“Oh, I bet you want him to do all sorts of things to you. When he holds your hand, do you imagine it somewhere else on your body? Do you think he'll have you by the waist while his other hand traces your neck? Will he squeeze your throat and bruise the pretty skin, rubbing his tongue up and down? Will you let him devour you as I did? I bet you'll have his handprints on your thighs for weeks, the dirty little secret that you keep to yourself?”

She plays with the ends of your hair, curling the strands around her fingers. You haven't been this close to her in years, and your proximity reminds you why. Getting close to villains is a quick path to insanity. You step away from the cell, regaining your focus. A pair of footsteps echo down the stairwell, slow and precise. When you turn, your coworker is impatiently waiting, a scowl etched onto his features as he stares between you and Harley Quinn. The blonde enthusiastically waves at him, earning a glare.

“Come along; we have lots to discuss and little time to waste. I thought I clarified that I wanted you in my office five minutes ago.”

You follow his figure, a knot in your stomach at his unusual mood. The doctor could be a pain when it came to protocols, but you two got along reasonably well. He gave you criteria to follow, and more often than not, he liked to debate your findings. You hoped this was a quick conversation, but then it didn't make sense that he instructed you to take a ferry for something he could have said on the phone.

“Yes, I had to drive through the rain and rush in traffic. I wasn't counting on the weather to be so awful or for Harley Quinn to pull me aside.”

He waits by the top of the stairwell for you, watching as your heels tap the concrete. It amazed him: the concept of walking on elevated stilts that could snap like a twig. You don't miss how he scans your legs or how the muscles in your calves tighten. He extends a hand, presenting the cordiality that made you admire him in the first place. You hesitate with trembling fingers, muttering a quiet “thanks” as he holds your palm. He's warm, and it gives you too much satisfaction. Instead of letting go, he merely continues walking, carefully trailing his fingers over your radial pulse. Each thrum of your heartbeat is now in his possession of knowledge, tipping him off on your anxiety. The door to his office is down a corridor, only accessible to visitors and himself.

“Had you considered wearing gloves, Doctor? You might want to invest in case the temperature drops. If you can't use your hands, I suppose the mind is sufficient, but exhausting yourself unnecessarily is no good to anyone.”

You sit in one of the two chairs, removing your scarf and placing it in your lap. Crane takes his place behind the desk and falls into the chair, folding his hands on the flat surface.

“Believe me, if I could grab a few extra layers, I would have. I was visiting a friend when you called, and since you requested I hurry, there was no point in going home to change. I've lived in Gotham for a long time, and a storm isn't enough to stop me from doing my job. Anyway, you said there was something you needed me to examine?”

He slides a manilla folder towards you, numerous papers spilling from the seam. You take the hint to inspect the documents, flipping through the pages and absorbing the content. MRI scans, coupled with test results and psychological jargon, cover the sheets. You wrinkle your nose in focus, recognizing the highlighted areas of the brain as the amygdala and the frontal lobe. The human brain structure separates information based on its importance, using the amygdala for the fear response and the frontal lobe for rational thought. If one of these locations is compromised, whether by neural chemicals or injuries, the body cannot regulate its reactions to stressful environments. You continue reading, wholly fascinated by the hypotheses listed. The last few pages are still being worked on, primarily blank except for messily written notes. While your train of thought is still understandable, you remove a pen from your coat pocket and begin scribbling. He stares in amusement, pride blooming at your coinciding wonder.

“Doctor Crane, this is beyond incredible! If you were to develop this drug, who knows what group might want it? Not to mention the possibility of designing a formula with the opposite goal of annihilating fear entirely!”

He doesn't bother to hide the smirk on his face as you supply him an ego boost. Initially, he worried you would have an adverse reaction given your good-natured spirit, but those doubts were put to rest by the sight of your smile. The longer he allows himself to relax, the more his eyes are drawn to your lips. Red was a beautiful color on you, contrasting the dim aura of this hospital. As you revel in this energized state, you do not anticipate the foreign sensation of his mouth against yours. Recognition dawns on you as the scent of his cologne lingers, and the papers fall to the ground. You cautiously lean into his touch, grasping his shoulders to bring him closer. The fabric of his shirt bunches as you dig your fingers into the material. He has no qualms with your proximity, but he recognizes the trepidation in your movements for what it is: the worry that you'll scare him away. It's ironic, and it tells him that the only way to disprove your doubt is to make sure you know that this encounter isn't based on the heat of the moment.

He kisses you harder, pushing his tongue inside your mouth. You gasp in surprise, allowing him additional access, as well as the ability to overpower you. Never had you thought that the absurd fantasy of him kissing you would come to fruition, and certainly not in his office over research data. This was supposed to be a dull day of filing paperwork and overhearing business, not the instance where your co-worker, technically your boss, would be sharing saliva. His lips travel to your cheek, then your jaw, trailing down your neck. He has to remove the scarf and unbutton your collar to reach the desired location. You tilt your head back, moaning as he grows closer to your carotid vein. Similar to your earlier encounter, he locates your pulse, biting and sucking the skin as your heart rate increases. You admittedly have no idea what you're doing, but you do know that the image of him making out with you is extremely hot.

Yet, rational is a demon that you cannot leave behind. You're a scientist through and through, which means taking time to analyze the effects of this situation is necessary. Gently, you press against his chest, halting his actions and putting space between you. He looks down at you quizzically, adjusting his glasses that had fallen from the bridge of his nose.

“We could keep going with this course of action, not that I would complain, but maybe we should consider what we're getting ourselves into. I mean, we work together, and if we pursue a relationship, that could cause an entire slew of issues. Let’s cool our jets and think about this objectively before getting too deep.”

You feel a new weight on your chest as you try to analyze his expression. Most days, you could guess his emotions based on small talk, if he even spoke to you. Unfortunately, he's again acting like a blank slate, unreadable as the silence grows longer. Somehow, this enigma of a human specimen has become a magnetic field, drawing you in despite your better judgment. It's not that you don't want to see where this night goes, but the idea of committing to him, especially in the workplace, sends a chill down your spine.

“I see what you are getting at, (Y/N). It's not a problem if you want to think this over. Honestly, I prefer my opinion, but I see no fault in mulling it over. We wouldn't be scientists if we didn't leave decisions up to logic, would we?”

He seems calm enough, and that takes some of the pressure off. You breathe out a sigh before stretching your neck, still a bit unsure of what to do. Another beat of awkward silence follows before you work up enough courage to face him. Blue eyes catch your thousand-yard stare and dart back to the ground.

“It's getting late. D-do you need anything else from me, Jonathan?”

He is not expecting you to refer to him by his first name despite the circumstances. The sound of your hesitancy is still cute, and he wasn't expecting his name to sound so good on your tongue.

“No, I have everything I need. Do you want me to drive you home? The weather is still raining cats and dogs. Not only that, but Gotham is dangerous already, and I wouldn't want you to get hurt.”

The offer seems adequate, and you know precisely the dangers lurking outside. If not for crime and insanity, you wouldn't have a job, but that doesn't mean you want to get caught up in legal shenanigans.

“I drove to the docking bay with my car, so assuming you drive, that would leave one of us without our respective vehicles…”

“You're partially correct. I take a taxi to get around town most of the time so that I won't abandon my car here. Then again, if I drove your car, I would still have to call a cab at one point or another.”

His analysis has you pondering the options until you decide to wing it. You've already made out with your boss, how much worse could it get?

“Screw it, I'll call you a taxi myself. If the weather gets too bad, you can stay at my place for the night.”

You pick up your scarf from the chair, throwing it around your neck in preparation for the cold air outside. The hallways are still empty, and for once, you're glad since the quiet gives you space to think. All that's left is to descend the stairs, pass security, and get the hell out of there. You place your hand in your pocket to grab your identification card but pause as your co-worker is two steps ahead of you, already swiping his badge across the checkpoint. That's right, he has a higher security clearance than you; no wonder he's always early to the office.

“There ya’ are pudding! How'd that meeting go—”

Harley Quinn wastes no time in asking questions as soon as she sees you approach. The doctor next to you gives her a scowl like last time, but the reason behind it is different. Before, he was irritated by her peppy attitude, and now it's jealousy. The blonde’s expression turns into a frown, but covers it with her usual distaste for nitpicky professionals. You would find their disagreement amusing if not for your fresh taste of humanity from the critical doctor, his shell still rough around the edges. You let your mind wander, barely recognizing the arm around your shoulder until you feel the support of his body against you.

These moments are the ones that make your heart race and your mind split. You know this guy, right? He has to be one of the good men in this rotten city. If not, what would you do anyway?

If you like this check the updating version on ao3: Click

#x reader #fanfiction #batman begins #dark knight #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #drabble #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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sharksnshakes · 2 years

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For Better Or For Worse - Jonathan Crane

Why is your boyfriend, Jonathan Crane, wearing the Scarecrow’s mask?

A/N; PLEASE why does he look weirdly adorable in this gif??? he’s literally a grown ass man,,,,,,,, anyway giving scarecrow a smooch makes brain go brr

TW; suggestive behavior, mostly fluff, established relationship

When you see your boyfriend wearing a burlap mask, everything clicks into place: the late night shifts, the cardboard boxes full of glass vials, the secrecy surrounding his work. Jonathan--your Jonathan--is the Scarecrow.

Though his face is still covered by the burlap mask, you feel his eyes on you. He’s speechless.

In all the time you’ve known Jonathan, you’ve never known him to be speechless.

It’s strangely funny. Would it be bad if you laughed?

You don’t, though, instead crossing the room to stand before him; he doesn’t move. When you speak, your voice is barely a whisper.

“Jonathan?”

He says nothing and you draw closer: close enough to gently settle a hand on the plane of his chest. His heart is practically beating out of it--if you didn’t now any better, you’d say Gotham’s doctor of fear was fearful.

Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you remove your hand from his chest, skimming the raw edge of the mask with your fingertips. The material is rough--how could he possible be comfortable wearing this? Is this the cause of the small scrapes on his nose?--you give it a small, experimental tug.

“Is this okay?” you ask.

Your voice is small, unsure. You’re unsure of everything right now, really, save for your feelings toward the man in front of you.

You should probably be scared, running in the other direction. But you’re not, whether for better or worse.

Jonathan tips his head in a slight nod, and you hook your fingers around the burlap. Go ahead.

With a gentle tug, you pull it across his jaw and up over his nose, tucking a stray hair behind his ear in the process. One hand holds the fabric up while the other rests gently on his jaw. You brush the pad of your thumb across his skin; small goosebumps emerge in its wake.

You can see his eyes through the mask.

They’re locked on you, unwavering.

Lifting yourself up on the tips of your toes, you lean in. Your lips barely brush against his, and though you’re hesitant to follow through, you place a fleeting kiss.

He’s stiff.

Shit, should you pull away?

Risking a glance at him tells you his expression hasn’t changed a bit, he still stares at you with those impossibly blue eyes--

Then his hands are on your waist and he’s capturing your mouth in an insistent, hungry kiss.

It’s enough to make you stumble--not to worry, Jonathan easily catches you. His grip is bruising, and you get the sense that he’ll do anything he can to never let you go.

#is this a drabble #im not sure #anyways #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane imagine #jonathan crane #scarecrow #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x you #scarecrow imagine #batman imagine #batman begins #tw suggestive behavior #established relationship

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purplelurkinghini · 8 days

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Hate at first sight scriddler? Lol

Send me a reverse trope + ship and I’ll finally write something a drabble

He thought he could stomach the sight of Jonathan Crane’s sour face from behind the burlap sack. However, him having cut holes for his steely blue eyes did mean Edward Nygma was getting cut to the bone.

‘When they told me you were going underground,’ he began, his baritone voice bouncing off of the concrete walls, ‘I assumed it would be a basement.’

‘How did you find me?’ The Riddler, the man who claims to have all the answers, asked.

‘I have your calling card,’ he motioned as if he was about to pull out such a card from one of the patches on his matted coat. After producing nothing save for an awkward silence, he proceeded. ‘Your clues, Edward.’

‘I left no prints, no paper-trail, no clues,’ he got heated, spitting fire directly into the man’s masked face as if to set it on fire.

‘You always do,’ he threw his eyes at him like daggers. ‘You can’t help yourself. Especially when you’ve failed to fill your prescription.’

‘I’m not your patient anymore, Crane!’

‘Not Crane,’ he corrected him, a needle suddenly appearing between the suffocating space between them. ‘Scarecrow.’

The first time Edward met him, he addressed him as Crane and doctor. But that was back when Dr. Jonathan Crane was still legally sane and working at Arkham Asylum. It was back when he still had power over Edward, still had a hold on his thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to get a hold of his patient’s mind back then. And he resented the doctor for it, for the sharpness of his eyes and how they sunk under his skin.

Now, as he is aquatinted with the Scarecrow for the first time, he sunk right back into those cold blue eyes and breathed in the burning flame that Dr. Crane had once ignited

‘You’re hiding in the dark like a rat, waiting for a bat to follow the breadcrumbs,’ Scarecrow spoke over the silence. ‘He’ll eat you alive, as he always does. Unless-’

‘Unless?’

‘We add poison at the end of the trail.’ The Scarecrow presented the syringe again. It was filled with distilated fear.

‘Are you making me an offer?’

‘No, Edward,’ he smiled behind the loose stitching, all chapped lips and yellowed teeth. ‘You’re asking me for help with your pest problem.’

Edward was ready to retch, to protest the man’s presumptions, when a shadow moved across his monitor: it was the pest passing a security camera.

‘I hate you.’

‘I know.’

#Jonathan Crane #Scarecrow #Edward Nygma #Riddler #scriddler #RiddleCrow #my fanfic #fanfic #drabble

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acapelladitty · 1 year

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Sentence prompt for scriddler: “What am I if not a giver?”

"What am I, if not a giver?"

Steady droplets of blood broke free of the jagged wound which decorated Edward's pale shoulder, the colour shamefully bright against the pallor as Jonathan surveyed the wound with a stern gaze.

His speech slurring due to the intensity of the drugs careering through his system, Edward's grin was uncharacteristically goofy as he answered Jonathan's stoic answer.

"A giver? The only thing you give me is a headache."

"Hilarious. Perhaps I'll offset those painkillers I gifted you by injecting some adrenaline. Then we'll see what jokes you have when I'm stitching you up fully conscious and aware."

"Don't be so miserly." Edward retorted, a grunt snapping free of his lips as Jonathan pressed the iodine soaked rag to the weeping cut, sterilising it in an instant. "Ouch." A pathetic exclamation.

"If that was too much for you then perhaps it would be more merciful for me to smash your skull to ensure unconsciousness for this next part. These stitches will not be kind."

"No. No, no, no. Boring. A boring solution to a brilliant problem."

Offering the words in an almost sing-song tone as his free hand brushed through his mess of reddish hair, Edward shook his head at the very notion.

"Remind me," Jonathan's smile was poisoned by a hearty dose of open venom, "to make a note on your personal chart to never administer this particular cocktail of painkillers again. It makes you more unbearable than usual."

Edward's glassy eyes blinked rapidly as they fought for clarity through the drugged haze.

"...no."

#another wee drabble from the pile #jonathan crane #edward nygma #scriddler #riddler #scarecrow

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march-harrigan · 2 years

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Could you do a Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane (Happy Halloween, Scooby-Doo!) x Autistic! Reader, who is a Halloween fan just like him, pretty please? :///3

Hello! Yes! I finally finished this! The autistic part comes in about halfway through the story, but it's there! I promise!

I may have ended up drawing a bit too much from my own experience as an autistic person. I know not everyone experiences sensory overload the same way or at all, but I hope you like it!

Halloween was their night. A night that held significance to them both above all others. More than any other holiday or their regular date nights. More than either of their birthdays, and even more than their anniversary. Dr. Jonathan Crane and his partner lived for Halloween, and they showed their love for the day with as much enthusiasm as they did their love for each other.

Every year, on the first of October, they would decorate. And every single year, their home was a sight to behold. A spectacle of black and orange, fun and horror for all who lived on their block to enjoy. The more traditional ghosts and skeletons would hang from the trees, looming over tombstones with amusing inscriptions. Animate statues of horror movie icons lining the walkway up to a front deck covered in hand-carved jack o'lanterns of every variety from spooky to silly. And Jonathan's favorite part of the display… The hay bales and post.

Oh, they didn't seem like much on their own throughout the month. But on Halloween night, Jonathan would don his Scarecrow attire and take his position on the post. Perhaps it was the realism in comparison to the other decorations. Maybe it was the curiosity that this particular scarecrow seemed to attract more crows than he frightened away. But inevitably, curious trick-or-treaters would come up to investigate. And when the children had gathered 'round, mouths agape and eyes searching for even the slightest sign of movement, he would jump down and yell.

"HROO-HRAAA!!"

Some of the startled youngsters would scream and scatter into the night. But the brave ones, the ones who stuck around were always rewarded. King size candy bars, bestowed upon them by Jon's loving companion.

Of course, the couple had another important tradition. And that was their attendance of the local Halloween Festival.

It was easily one of Jon's favorite parts of the season(second only to scaring children). But it was actually his partner who always insisted on going. To them, the festival was the pinnacle of the entire Halloween experience. The snacks, the games, the apple cider. The haunted hayride and the opportunity for everyone to show off their costumes. These were the things Halloween was about for them, and they were the very things the festival provided. And so they would skip around the fairgrounds in their costume, pulling Jonathan close behind them. They would bob for apples, tour the haunted house attraction, and gorge themself on enough sweets to make anyone sick. To them, it was absolute bliss.

At least at the start. As much as Halloween was their hyperfixation, there WAS such a thing as too much of a good thing. Jon had seen the crash every year.

Of course, he was aware that his love was autistic. And, naturally, he knew what that entailed. After so much exposure, the lights would be too bright, the crowds too loud, and their costume too itchy and uncomfortable to manage. It would all become too much to process and a headache would be the least of their worries if they decided to push themself. And blessedly, Jon would never let them.

He knew what signs to look for. They might start to feel too warm. Or maybe their response to a loud or sudden noise would be more noticeable. Not just in how they would jump or flinch, but even in the way they covered their ears. Other times, they could be more irritable, briefly snapping at him although it would be followed up with a quiet apology. He never took it personally. He knew it wasn't him that was bothering them. But when they had reached that point, he knew it was time to get them away from the cacophony of sensory input.

And so each year, without fail, he would locate the quickest escape route and lead them out of the crowd to their quiet place. A corn maze on the edge of the fair grounds. Not the haunted corn maze attraction you might expect to see at such an event. Just a simple maze where the two of them could go for a walk and get lost, away from all of the chaos for a while.

At first, the pair would walk with a couple of feet between them, Jon wanting to make sure that his partner would have some time to come down from the sensory overload. But as the quiet minutes under the starlight passed, eventually, they would let him know they were ready by taking his hand. The two would walk in silence until they found the exit, where they could sit on a couple of hay bales and talk until they were ready to go home. And each year, just before standing up to leave, Jonathan would rub the back of their hand with his thumb and smile. "Happy Halloween, my love."

"Happy Halloween, Jon."

#jonathan crane #the scarecrow #dc scarecrow #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #hhsd #happy halloween scooby doo #drabble #one shot #autistic reader #I noticed I don't have much if any dialogue in my writing #that may be something for me to work on

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skeetlebeetle · 1 year

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ok wait i actually rlly like this line from a scriddler drabble i wrote a year back. riddler says it:

Riddles only manipulate the brains of those who give them thought. Those people are either smart enough to answer them but dumb enough to enjoy their frivolity or simple idiots who can't understand the question…

then scarecrow proceeds 2 point out that riddler also likes riddles and then he gets all indignant like NO i like riddles 4 a different reason!!!! it’s different cuz i’m smart!!!!!! it’s so silly

#batman #scriddler #scarecrow #riddler #edward nygma #jonathan crane #the full drabble is posted on my wattpad - batman oneshot book - and on my ao3 (maybe?? it should be called ‘schemers’ if it’s on there)#i don’t recommend u read any of the other oneshots in that wattpad book tho they’re all p shitty and the art does not represent how #i think of the characters or how i draw n e more

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dreaming-for-an-escape · 8 months

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Title: I want you naked, willing, and underneath me

Summary: Jonathan would rather Darlene spend time with him than with her annoying siblings.

Warning: Smut so 18+, choking, use of sex toy (vibrator), squirting, and Soft Dom!Jonathan. But what else is new?

@wolfanddragon98

@sepherinaspoppies

Enjoy! ;)

Darlene was supposed to be back at her apartment by now. It was almost six o’clock in the afternoon and Lydia was coming over to visit today. The siblings had made a tradition now that Lydia was a part of her life for Friday nights to be their thing.

Darlene loved it when Lydia came over and she always wanted to make each visit special. Since she got out of work early on Fridays, dinner was going to be made as well as baked cookies for the movie night they were going to have.

Theo called earlier saying he was going to meet up with them later on in the night, bringing cheddar popcorn as he was the only one of the three siblings who preferred it over extra butter. It was also his turn to rent the movie, last time it had been Lydia.

Since her younger sister had chosen a chick flick, as Theo claimed it to be, he was probably going to choose either an action or horror movie.

Darlene was fine with either, but between those two choices Lydia would’ve preferred horror. However, the fun night she was going to with her siblings was slowly being forgotten about the longer Jonathan kept her thighs spread.

This wouldn’t have even been happening if Darlene hadn’t gone to his apartment. But Jonathan had called saying he wanted to see her before she spent the rest of her night with her siblings. Darlene was aware by now that he wasn’t exactly a fan of Friday nights but this was her family.

Still, she couldn’t help but feel bad. Darlene never liked it when Jonathan was sad, even over the phone. So she decided to spend some time with him. An hour tops. Then Jonathan had pulled out a bottle of red wine, played some Neil Young in his living room, and an hour turned to two, and then three.

Eventually Darlene found herself in his bedroom, naked and willing under an ardent Jonathan. They made love a few times before taking a brief break. During which they continued to talk about their day, and Darlene laughed when mentioning something silly that happened to her at work with her co-worker Candace while Jonathan listened attentively, playing with her hair.

Her laughter then turned into moans once Jonathan started kissing down her body to reach her sweet center. He made her cum with his mouth twice before he decided to switch things up a bit.

Jonathan now kept Darlene’s hands pinned over her head while his other hand worked his magic on her core with one of the many vibrators he’d given her.

Thanks to him Darlene now had her fair share of sex toys she kept at his and at her apartment, but this particular little wonder would do just fine.

Jonathan remembered how shy and hesitant his darling had been at first, but look at her now. Darlene now loved it when he used vibrators on her. It always worked perfectly into turning her into an absolute moaning mess.

“You’re so beautiful like this.” Jonathan murmured, pressing his lips to hers. He pulled his face back enough to get a good look at her, loving what he saw. “Flushed from your cheeks to your breasts, and teary eyed only for me.”

Darlene whimpered as Jonathan made the vibrator go faster against her clit. She moaned his name a few times until he let go of her pinned hands and made her hand wrap around his throat. Darlene held on, squeezing lightly at first. She knew how much Jonathan enjoyed it when she did this to him but she remained hesitant to do so.

“You know what I like, darling.” Jonathan licked his lips. “Choke me harder.”

“Jonathan, are you sure?” Darlene whispered, unsureness showing in her features.

At Jonathan’s insistence she wore his glasses, and for him it made her green eyes stand out more. It was as if he were looking deep into the forest.

“Yes, Darlene. Harder.” Jonathan maintained from growling, rubbing the vibrator over her folds until it was pressed harder on her clit. Darlene cried out, toes curling and free hand digging into his shoulder before finally doing as he said and tightening the hold on his throat.

Jonathan groaned, immediately blowing his load onto her stomach. Darlene tried releasing his throat but he held her hand around him until he finished releasing everything onto her.

If it weren’t for Darlene wearing his glasses she would’ve seen just how dilated his pupils were. But hearing him breathing heavily, and feeling the sticky mess on her tummy clued her in on how much pleasure he’d gotten out of it.

Jonathan did his best to compose himself. His darling had yet to orgasm and he wasn’t about to let her leave without doing so. Even though he already had her falling over the edge a few times in the last three hours, he still wanted her to have one last good orgasm. Jonathan glanced at the pink vibrator, and smirked when he turned it up at the fastest it could go.

Darlene squeaked, eyes widening. She looked at Jonathan as her whole body began to shake. All she was able to focus, though terribly because of the blurriness of Jonathan’s glasses, was his smiling pink lips and his shiny blue eyes.

His name was pulled out of her the moment she reached completion. A heavy amount of fluid gushed out of her, and she felt like sobbing hysterically knowing she just squirted all over his sheets.

Jonathan turned off the vibrator, setting it aside to maneuver them. He didn’t bother to clean either of them up, liking that they were marked with each other. Darlene now laid on his chest, fingers drawing circles on his stomach while he stroked her back.

“I’m sorry.” Darlene apologized, trying her best to steady her breathing. She'd taken off his glasses, much to his dislike. Her face remained flushed from her orgasm and lasting embarrassment. She hated whenever her excitement got out of control.

The wetness between her thighs was already bad enough when it came to Jonathan, but sometimes it got even worse. It just meant a bigger mess, and Jonathan needing to change his sheets again.

Which has happened far too often to Darlene’s liking. But while she always looked utterly mortified, her boyfriend looked the complete opposite. She had yet to one hundred believe this was genuine, though he never had issues telling her so.

Jonathan pulled her up to nuzzle her cheek. “My darling, there’s no need for you to apologize. I love it when you do that.”

Darlene turned her head away, blushing harder. “I don't, it's embarrassing.”

Jonathan turned her blushing face to look at him again. Her breath hitched under the intensity she saw in his blue eyes.

“Then I’m just going to have to reassure you time and time again that it’s not embarrassing.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” Darlene asked, feeling a fire in her belly at the way his blue eyes darkened.

Rather than responding, Jonathan acted. She gasped, unable to find real words as he spread her underneath him again. She threw her head back, mouth opening with moans being plucked out at the feeling of Jonathan using the vibrator on her already sensitive clit again. It didn’t take long for her to make another mess on his sheets.

Darlene ended up returning to her apartment an hour late. She profusely apologized to Lydia but lied when her younger sister asked the reason behind her lateness. Darlene did the same when Lydia complained to Theo when he arrived with the cheddar popcorn and movie.

#ultraviolence #darlene willemena daniels #jonathan crane #SMUT #whew #this got kinky #drabble #batman begins #oc

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