cillianscrybaby - Tumblr blog

cillianscrybaby · 2 months

Text

WARNING: definitely not consensual, drug use, forced oral, water boarding, water sports.

(No title. Only thing I could think of was "Dr. Crane Gets Brain.")

This was your chance to be more, more than Dr. Crane, respected psychologist at Arkam Asylum, well, as respected as you can be in Gotham. It's not like you'll ever be Bruce Wayne but this research will bring you more than the measly life you've gotten by taking care of the local crazies.

The hazy streetlights somehow made her look more fragile, the woman you've decided on as she carries a single pizza alone in the night. Bold, walking alone like that, but you would soon know her fears if the toxin you had created was the right formula, tonight was an experiment to see how the drug worked on a sane person, assuming this woman was sane. Feeling your knuckles turn white around the handle of your briefcase you echoed her footsteps.

Waiting underneath the cover of darkness in an alley across from her apartment building it would seem luck was on your side tonight. There was no sign of The Bat, not even a symbol in the sky as you waited for her lights to dim, only the flicker of TV showing through her bedroom curtains.

There was a rule among the lower Gothamites in the city, a rule to mind your own business and turn a blind eye to crime, so as you kneeled onto the asphalt, feeling the damp soak the knee of your suit pants, the click of your briefcase opening goes unnoticed. Staring up at you, a mess of stitches and brown sackcloth, empty black holes your eyes were about to fill, the mask stared up at you. The crazies called you Scarecrow, the name stuck and you quite liked it. Slipping on the mask, you're no longer Dr. Crane, you're Scarecrow, a worst nightmare brought to life, becoming any fear someone could see. Your fear toxin was loaded, begging to be used to gain you more power in Gotham.

The sound of your heart was in your ears as now you were inside the apartment, from what you could see, as shabby as it looked on the outside she had made this a quaint little home in the middle of this filthy city. You could feel yourself smile underneath the mask, her sleeping form seeming to flicker by the TV light.

"Wakey wakey.", you hummed lowly, stalking to her side and leaning over so when her eyes opened she would see the face of Scarecrow. It was time to get a look inside her head.

It took mere seconds for her sleeping form to go from dazed to instant panic. I'm sure the shock alone from seeing a figure standing over her as she slept was enough to induce fear but more was needed, unleashing the fear toxin with a simple click of a button.

Her screams were almost like gasps, stepping back to watch her flail herself out of bed, seeing pale legs wobbling as if struggling to keep her on her feet. "What do you see?", my distorted voice asks, seeing her whip her head around to gaze at me like a wild animal trapped and knowing its doom. Curious, the gasping screams were different, watching as her hands almost clawed at her throat and chest, leaving red marks dragging along her skin.

It clicked, drowning, she was feeling herself drown and maybe simply seeing a man in a mask and suit. "Fascinating.", the word left my lips, this time reaching out for her. She screamed, finally struggling out two words, "The Batman!" Even her words sounded like they were under water, that pressure crushing down onto her. My hand found her hair, pulling hard on her scalp and I saw tears come to her eyes as I began dragging her towards the bathroom, her wobbling legs almost useless.

The Batman. I've heard plenty of stories but so far I've not seen a sign of him myself.

Flicking on the bathroom light, her fingers were trying to claw at my hand as I forced her to her knees, twisting in my hold, "This will have to do.", I sighed, curiosity getting the best of me, if she seemed to have a fear of drowning then how much could she take?

With two fingers I lifted the lid of the toilet, wrapping her black hair around my hand as she kept gasping, "The Batman isn't coming.", I tell her slowly before plunging her face into the toilet water. She made the obvious mistake of screaming as she went in, water sucking into her mouth and lungs while her knees banged against the floor for mercy, water splashing onto the cuff of my suit. Now she was really drowning, or, at least, drowning under my control.

Deciding she needed a break, I lifted her head from the toilet, and tilted my head, the soulless Scarecrow mask observing her sobbing face, the water dripping down the front of the black silk nightie she wore, "Please-Please!", her voice hoarse, "Can't breathe-"

"Obviously.", I snorted, plunging her back in. The fear toxin must slowly be losing its hold on her mind as she was beginning to form words instead of gasping screams.

Deciding when she had enough, her body tried coughing up the water, watching as her chest heaved, and to my surprise two little points caught my attention, her nipples now hard beneath the wet silk.

"Npt quite the reaction I was expecting.", I whisper to myself, intrigued, my eyes scanning down her trembling form. All that kicking had lifted up the hem of the nightie, revealing gray cotton panties with something that really caught my attention, a little wet patch between her thighs, something that couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

"Oh my God, you're disgusting.", I almost laughed, she was enjoying this despite the fear, "What's going on in that little head of yours?"

Loosening the grip on her hair, only a little, I watched the shame creep up her face, the gasping quiet now as the drowning pressure must be slowly relieving from her chest as her mind was trying to process everything. Kicking her ankles apart more, she flinched but had stilled the fighting, my fingertips running up her leg, her thigh, and eventually pressing against the wet spot.

This time you expected the noise that came from her next, a moan. You smiled behind the mask, wondering if she could see the way your eyes shone with their own excitement of this discovery. "Let's see what else you like.", I hissed, plunging her head back into the toilet before she could beg for The Batman that wouldn't come.

Holding her in place with one hand, it seemed now that her shame was exposed, despite the fear toxin weakening, she didn't have much fight left. With the other hand you reached to unzip the pants of your suit, reaching to free yourself, "Since you don't mind being disgusting..." As a test, you free your hand from her hair, deciding to relieve the pressure and piss right into the toilet her head was in as if that's where she belonged. It gave a certain satisfaction, seeing her peek up, timid, just as the pale yellow stream hit her cheek, a pitiful wail coming from her as she hid her face back down to hide her lower lip quivering from tears.

"What's the matter?", you kicked at her ankles, tilting your head to see that the wet patch had grown, her thighs almost quivering. Either this was a reaction to the drug or she really was disgusting, either way it was fascinating.

Now that you were relieved, shaking off the last remnants, she began to move as you tucked yourself away, your hand pausing as you were going to zip back up. You've used the fear toxin, seen how it reacted on a person that wasn't in Arkam Asylum, but you didn't want to be done with her.

Bending to grab her hair again, she winced as you turned up her face to yours, making her stare into the eyes of The Scarecrow, "You could make for an interesting experiment.", you signed, running your thumb over her lower lip, seeing she had bitten it, smearing the watered down blood across her lips, "Open your mouth."

And on command, she did. Was her mind gone? Did the toxin make her go numb? Or did she think compliance would keep her from getting hurt? Either way, as your thumb slid into her mouth and pressed to her tongue you felt your cock twitch as you stared down into those fear filled eyes.

"Fuck it.", you huffed to yourself, once again freeing yourself from your suit pants, stroking with one hand while the other held her chin, feeling her anxious tongue run over your thumb. She was squirming, no doubt horny from this as well as you let her suffer, seeing you grow harder.

This time your touch was more gentle, taking the back of her head and guiding her to your cock, the tip toying with her lips to take you inside. You rose an eyebrow, an action she couldn't see, as you observed if she would obey.

As you slipped into her mouth, your length gliding onto her tongue to feel the weight of you, your own moans slipped out. She was so warm and wet, her saliva pooling around your cock as you reached to grip her head with both hands, eager to fuck her face.

She's already had her worst fears come to life, drowning, unable to breathe, now as you forced her head up and down, taking the length of your cock back and forth, you were giving her that fear all over again.

And it felt good.

Her palms went to your thighs, begging, praising, you didn't care. Her knees sore on the bathroom tiles as her body wanted to protest to the feeling of your cock in her throat, the quiet gags another warning.

You wanted to come, fuck, she felt too good. But you couldn't leave any DNA behind for Commissioner Gorden and his piggies to find.

Your chest heaving, you forced her to take you completely, holding the back of her head so her nose was pressed to your suit pants, just making her hold your cock. Her palms beat at your thighs, gagging and gasping as drool came from her mouth and dripped down to her chest. Chuckling behind the mask, you let her go, leaving her on the floor to sputter and cough while you grabbed the hand towel, quickly pumping until you felt your own release into the fabric.

The toxin must most definitely be wearing off now, a ragged sob shaking her while you stepped over and back to her bedroom where you left the briefcase, putting the towel inside so there's no evidence left behind.

Unable to stop yourself from taking one last look, she made no move to flinch away as she cried, lifting the nightie to properly see her panties now soaked.

"I've got to get a look inside your head.", you tell her, patting her thigh and standing back up. You hoped to see her at Arkam, such a fascinating experiment.

8 notes · View notes

cillianscrybaby · 3 months

Text

You needed the work, the money, it's always about the money, so that's why you're here in New York working as a maid for Dr. Stephen Strange, the brilliant, egotistical, surgeon. Well, he was a surgeon until the accident but kept the brilliant and egotistical part.

The place was sleek and spotless, exactly how you'd imagine a surgeon's penthouse would be, and it was all thanks to you that it was kept that way.

Every week a check was deposited into your bank account by Mr. Strange at midnight and almost instantly it was all taken in an attempt to pay off your debt. So you kept working even when he was insufferable.

"Don't wear that again."

So you didn't.

"You missed some dust along the piano keys."

A piano you'll never be able to play.

"The tea has gotten cold."

Maybe you should have drank it faster instead of researching for more doctors to fix your hands.

"Don't look at me with pity! Do you know who I am?"

Of course you knew. And you didn't dare look again as his hands shook.

No matter the remark or insult you held your tongue in front of Dr. Stephen Strange.

"You know...I'm beginning to think you like it.", Dr. Strange sighs at you while you kneel, wiping the tea that spilled onto the black glass table, you were used to cleaning up after him when his shaking hands failed to do the simplest task. "Like what?", you question, grabbing another paper towel to collect the last drop of tea. "Don't play stupid.", he rolls his eyes as you glanced up, standing to your height as he sits, scarred fingers trying desperately to keep the cup still in his lap.

It's easier to not reply, to just walk away and do your job when he gets into his moods, you knew he simply lashes out with harsh words to make up for how he mourns at the loss of his hands. So, you move to turn away but quickly find he's grabbed the hem of your dress to hold you in place. "Dr.?", you begin to question until he hisses in surprise pain, the tea spilling into his lap. "Dammit-", he groans, his head laying back against the chair, one hand still gripping your clothing.

As simple as it would be to walk from his grasp, you don't, unsure what to do because he's never stopped you in your steps before. "What are you waiting for? Clean it up.", he demands, annoyed blue orbs snapping up to you.

Work. You're working. You have to remember that. Because as much of an asshole Stephen Strange is, you can't deny how handsome he is, cruel blue eyes and a radient confidence, all topped off with dark hair and striking silver streaks. "Yes. Yes, sir.", you almost whisper out, grabbing the towels again.

Bending over him, you begin to dab the wet fabric that began to cling to his lap, feeling like you were doing something wrong although he told you to do it. His fingers let go of the hem of your dress but surprisingly went to your thigh, his fingers tracing your bare skin. Blinking, your gaze went to his face that was watching you intently, "Keep cleaning.", he instructs. You said nothing, feeling yourself caught up in the moment as you rubbed at his lap, feeling the doctor begin to grow beneath your touch.

"You think I'm helpless?", Stephen hums, your mind focusing on the circle his fingers were tracing on your inner thigh, trying to keep it steady while you were now stroking him over his wet pants. "You think I can't do what you're doing right now?", you shook your head, not wanting to doubt him as his deep voice was tempting you to melt like butter, the muscles between your thighs beginning to tighten at the thought of him touching you.

"My hands may shake but I can make you feel things that would transport your spirit right out of your body.", he challenged, this time cupping you with his large scarred hand, the feeling making you gasp and push yourself shamelessly back against his touch.

"Stephen?", you question, his hand staying put as your own hand stilled, simply feeling him against your palm. "Doctor.", he corrects you, moving his hand to lift your dress, pushing your lower back to make you arch more. You didn't mind his unsteady grasp, letting yourself give in to what he wanted to do. "Doctor.", you say this time which results in him petting between your legs in a way of praising you for obeying.

The question you had died on your tongue as your mind was beginning to become fuzzy, only focusing on the tingling feeling Dr. Strange was awakening inside you. He was beginning to throb harder while you slowly resumed stroking him. "I know. It must feel good.", he purrs, his voice close to your ear, the fabric of your panties beginning to become damp and clinging to you the same way the spilled tea made his pants cling to his lap. "It does.", you admit, trying to not squirm and become greedy for what you were chasing.

"You're too easy to read, you know that?", he chuckles, his two fingers moving up to press your clit which was aching for attention at this point. "Too. Easy. Too. Read.", he brags, tapping your clit harshly with each word.

By now you weren't focused on stroking him but he didn't seem to mind. What he wanted right now was to prove a point, even if the point was your pleasure this was about him boosting his already inflated ego. Words kept failing to form in your brain, it's been too long since someone else touched you so all you could do was whimper, your body language begging for more.

Dr. Strange took in your whining, using his shaky hands to pull down your panties, the wet fabric leaving your body making you shiver and your skin break out in chills at being so exposed to him now, so vulnerable, unashamed of how needy he's making you. Within seconds his touch returned, parting your lips to spread you open so his ring finger could pet your entrance, teasing your now soaked heat that was begging for something inside. It was impressive what his injured hands were capable of, your free hand now grasping desperately at the leather chair he sat in.

"I don't pity you.", you whisper, the first coherent thing you could get to leave your lips as he finally sank two fingers inside of you, hooking them, petting inside where it felt so sweet.

"Get ready to see the stars.", Stephen replies, beginning to fuck you with his fingers, the scars massaging your walls as they grasped his fingers as if your life depended on it. Your thighs were starting to quake, your breath coming in short gasps as you knew your face was flushed at the fire beginning to burn in your belly. You needed this. He needed this. Dr. Strange needed to see you get off, watching as your arousal was beginning to run down your thighs, those shaky hands working their magic on you as you fucked yourself back onto his fingers thrusting.

"Gpod girl."

"Look how wet you are."

"I can tell you're getting close."

His voice urged you on until he gave what was promised, a trip to the stars, it felt like you left your body as your orgasm ripped through you and turned you into a shaking mess for Dr. Stephen Strange.

The feeling of his fingers pulling from you draws a whine that sounds so desperate, aching already to be filled. With one shaky hand he grabs your chin, bringing the fingers that had been inside of you to your lips which you immediately took inside your mouth, sucking your own arousal from them. Dr. Strange watches in amused fascination, smug, knowing he was the best despite his injuries. You watched his lips part while your tongue ran along the scars of his fingers, almost drooling onto his hand, wanting to make him feel as good as you did.

"Hungry for more?", he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

15 notes · View notes

cillianscrybaby · 3 months

Text

Into Love: A Star Trek Tale (part 1)

It's always love, isn't it?...

That human emotion that goes so deep it cuts to the core of every being, even one like me.

As I lie here asleep, my brain function the strongest it's ever been, it's love that's keeping everything firing. Although sometimes the bad memories take over the good ones, making them dance away as the pain love can cause rips me open all over again.

Those screams...

Poor, human, desperate screams.

The kind of screams love can cause.

I can't help but feel like I'm not supposed to be here, although I am. Experiment number 3725, Khan, a mix of human and alien genetics created in part by Arik Soong with a team of others in hopes of a superhuman race to aid in wars against anyone who opposes the Federation. I'm created to fight better, think better, to kill better, superior in all ways. That's what they're hoping for.

Currently experiments are ongoing, myself being chosen now to be in a human setting, on Earth, simply to see if I can exist among them, a tracker hidden under the skin in my neck monitoring my every reaction to the setting.

I should slouch more as opposed to the stiff posture I always used while among these carefree beings, mostly human, drinking and laughing and trying to forget their stress and woes in this bar. Shifting in my seat, I ran my finger along the glass of the beer bottle I kept close, watching the condensation gather under my finger, making my posture mirror what I was seeing around me.

It was too easy, reading everyone that was gathered in this bar. The bartender who just wanted the night to end, the couple who shouldn't be together because they each had a mate that was oblivious to the fact they were here, the man in the corner who was too anxious to speak to the woman across the room. And then there was her...

Love.

That is her name because that is what I call her.

Called her...

Call...?

No matter where I looked my eyes kept finding her, landing, observing the situation. Sometimes when she smiled, obviously out with a group of friends, the gesture didn't quite touch her eyes, a sadness lurking underneath that she was trying to keep hidden. It was probably due to the Vulcan sitting across from her, the male sitting almost as stiff as I was, something that would never return the affection she was so willingly wanting to give.

This time I picked up my bottle and took a drink, the bitter taste coating my tongue that I swallowed down. Was her drink bitter? Probably not, she's had two now which flushed her cheeks, making the crooked smattering of freckles dissappear into the redness. So human. So imperfect. Vulnerable.

But, every being in here was vulnerable to me, unaware, and too stupid to know what I was and what I could do.

She moved, getting up from her group of friends, my eyes catching a glimpse of her dark brown hair bouncing to the rhythm of her walking and I decided it was time for me to move too. No doubt they were tracking how my heart rate began an exciting uneven beat as my steps were slow in tracking where she went, a feeling of excitement coming to my senses.

Just outside the bathroom doors she was standing, shoulders slightly slumped, and I picked up on the sound of crying. I should say something... My lips parted, searching for words but she turned around, a bit of surprise coming across her sad expression, "Mm, sorry-", she apologizes and my hands raise as if to say it's okay. Being this close, shr smells sweet, maybe it's just the alcohol she had, but something tells me it's her. I wasn't sure what to do about the tears that were coming from her green eyes, seeing them streak down her flushed face. I still haven't spoke yet but because she was crying I thought it was a good idea to wrap my arms around her, to hug her, being careful of my own strength as if I was embracing glass. Almost immediately she began to push back, half stumbling away from me, this silent stranger who suddenly embraced her in the back of a bar.

I let her go, my arms already feeling empty as she looked up at me, confused, drink clouding her mind while I watched her stare through her tears. "I'm sorry-I don't know why...", I began my own apology, "You look like you need saving." I was right, I saw that sadness, I saw this raw human emotion right in front of me now, and I saw how she longed for the Vulcan male.

Watching her lips part, I made no move to leave the moment and neither did she. "You're right.", she finally says, shaking her own head at her admittance, almost chuckling at it, how pathetic it seemed.

"I can save you.", I offer, coming closer, close enough to feel her human warmth, to know how soft her skin would be. This wasn't what I was designed for, this tenderness, but I was falling in love at first sight, a human phrase I find to be true.

She blinked, the last of her tears falling down her cheeks as she closed the space between us, getting on her toes as she pressed her lips to mine. Feeling her kiss me awoken something, our arms now reaching to pull us together as we kissed as strangers, my arms holding her drunken body to mine.

It was now that I discovered another way I was genetically superior, even designed to fuck better, the tracker picking up the rhythm of my accelerated heart as I gave into that male need and desire to claim something as my own and I choose her. I choose Love.

That night in her bed as we connected, my hands careful yet leaving greedy red splotches on her skin everywhere I grabbed, I felt like this was were I belonged, inside of her, making her feel every human pleasure she could experience. I watched in fascination as she fell over the edge, panting and begging for more as I felt myself chasing my own pleasure, over and over inside of her. That's how we spent the night, tangled together in human passion.

That night, myself, Khan, experiment number 3725, I found love.

13 notes · View notes