pairing: (ex)Harry Styles x Ginger Spice's daughter!reader x Max Verstappen
fc: Sabrina Carpenter
summary: They broke up and she decided to disappear and write a heartbreaking song. Through this process her old friends from F1 were with her. With one two-time World Champion getting closer and closer.
warnings: swearing, cheating, Harry is an asshole in this (sorry!)
a/n: Long? Oh yes. It's a long one. But also my first F1 related fic, hope you enjoy!
masterlist
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f1 and redbullracing
liked by yourinstagram, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 349 392 others
f1 Is there a better way to start 2023 season than with YN YSN (sweetly called the tiny boss of Red Bull Racing) in the paddock? We say there is NOT! Welcome YN, we hope you have the best time with us!
view all 19 323 comments
yourinstagram thank uuuuu!
danielricciardo THE boss is here!
landonorris *heart eyes*
charles_leclerc Welcome back, YN!
ynupdates oh how i missed her face
ynsmybestie 5 months without even a photo of her finger online... it was a draught
ynsmymama yn's a vroom vroom girlie?????
ynsmybabie F1? is she a fan? tiny boss? what is going on?
⤷ ynupdates I feel like I'm the only one that knew. YN is Christian Horner's (red bull racing boss) step-daughter.
⤷ ynsmybestie isn't his wife ginger spice?
⤷ ynupdates yes! she's YN's mum. how do you guys not know that?
⤷ ynshands maybe because she's using her grandma's surname and not her mother's?
formulafan49 so we're getting las vegas content in bahrain? this sport is getting out of control with all those celebrities attending
⤷ landonorizz why are you being bothered by somebody that knows almost everything about formula 1? go be mad somewhere else
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yourinstagram
liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 2 201 302 others
yourinstagram hiii💛 took a break and wrote a song. you're losing me is out now! i love all of you my pathological people pleasers.
view all 91 393 comments
danielricciardo be a happy song with me?
⤷ yourinstagram running to you right now
⤷ landonorris bringing mum's biscuits
⤷ maxverstappen1 I'll bring myself 😊
⤷ danielricciardo you lot weren't invited, but come in... I guess
landonorris you're the only person I'm not mad at for making me cry, ynn
⤷ yourinstagram you've heard the song before, lan
⤷ landonorris shhhh
⤷ danielricciardo it won't make her fall in love with you, norris
⤷ landonorris fuck you man
maxverstappen1 💛💛
ynupdates WHAT IN THE HELL HAPPENED HERE
ynsmybestie I won't recover. I fucking won't recover
ynsmymama I'm gonna die... its so sad. its heartbreaking. I'm losing myself
hArrysbtch woah, my heart cannot take this
harrysmoustache firstly, break my heart and take it, yn
harrysmoustache secondly, why is the whole f1 here? wtf
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harryupdates
liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 45 202 others
harryupdates In his latest interview Harry was asked about his private life - especially his relationship with YN. After the question of "do you feel like you throw a great love away?" Harry answered with "I don't know. I don't regret a lot of things in my life but that's [the relationship] probably one of them." You can read the interview via the link in our story!
view all 4 201 comments
hArrysbtch suddenly a six year lasting relationship was a mistake???
hArrysbtch ehh, harry. i kinda feel that the breakup (from Harry's side) happened a long time ago. there is no sparkle anymore
hArrysbtch now let me start on not mentioning her name like EVER "my last partner" her name is YN, why he can't just say it? it's been going on for years. since they started dating really...
harrysmoustache that wasn't the best interview
ynsmymama about 'you're losing me': "every artist has their imagination that they write down and then release. sometimes it's good and sometimes it should be kept private. i'm not the one to size it up." THAT WAS FUCKING LOW
⤷ harrysmoustache as much as I love him that was petty af
⤷ hArrysbtch especially when almost all critics named this song one of the best LYRICALLY and MUSICALLY in the last few decades
ynshands "I don't know if you can be ready to move on from a longterm relationship. it's definitely harder than from something that lasts months or two years." THIS MOTHERF****R IS TALKING ABOUT NOT BEING THE ONE TO MOVE ON BUT HE DID WHILE STILL BEING IN A RELATIONSHIP??????
⤷ ynsmymama this is called audacity
⤷ harrysfan49 cheating was never confirmed, was it?
⤷ ynsmybestie yes, it was. right after harry's "announcement" yn posted a story with lyrics from 'illicit affairs'. i think that's enough of a confirmation.
ynsmybestie yeah, here he comes again not being able to fucking say her name. those 6 years meant nothing?
⤷ harrysfan92 maybe he doesn't want to share his private relationship online
⤷ ynsmybestie i don't understand that. you're loving a person for six years, claiming them the love of your life, but saying the name is hard? he never mentioned her in interviews (my closest friend, my partner, someone I love). he couldn even show up at her birthday party because he had a photoshoot. just to point out, the drivers showed up in London, even though they had a race in Imola the next day.
⤷ harrysfan87 you guys are toxic. just gonna blame him for the breakup? unbelievable.
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ynupdates
liked by ynsmybestie, landofan92 and 88 203 others
ynupdates YN AND LANDO AT THE NIGHTCLUB IN MONACO!!!!!
view all 6 001 comments
ynsmybestie NO FUCKING WAY
ynsmybestie SHE LOOKS SO HOT
ynsmymama the way he looks at her ??? 🫠
ynsfan92 find somebody who looks at you just like lando looks at yn. YOU CAN'T
⤷ ynsmymuse have you seen how max looks at her?
landofan92 do I need to change my bio from norizz to yesrizz?
user39 yeah, moving on quickly when her exboyfriend is talking about how he adores her
⤷ ynsmybestie where??? because i only saw how awful he was to YN from the moment they broke up
user02 yeah, move on quickly and go trough all the drivers
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yourinstagram added to her IG story!
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lando.jpg
liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 1 004 392 others
lando.jpg yn showed her favourites
view all 203 494 comments
danielricciardo LIAAAAAR. SHE LOVES ME MORE.
⤷ yourinstagram of course
⤷ lando.jpg i love your sarcasm
maxverstappen1 💛
yourinstagram not my fault you were the only ones available for photos
⤷ maxverstappen1 I don't mind
⤷ lando.jpg neither do I
⤷ danielricciardo I DO
⤷ charles_leclerc I DO TOO
ynsmybestie hot
ynsmybestie but also i see you YN with favouring Max and Lando, i see you girl
ynsmymama why I've never realised how hot those two are???
ynshands is there a thing she does badly?
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ynupdates
liked by ynsmybestie, maxandyn and 68 574 others
ynupdates YN and MAX VERSTAPPEN at the bar tonight in Zandvoort, celebrating Max's win!
view all 4 206 comments
ynsmybestie SEE? you defend the girl, you get the girl!
ynsmymama i mean i was rooting for them but i am still speechless
ynshands YAS PARENTS
maxfan85 after the race that he had, tying to yet another record and getting a girl? is there a thing he can't do or can't have??
ynsfan93 sooo, do we say they're together orrr?
⤷ ynsmybestie i mean, look at them. i have many friends but i'm not that cozy with any of them
⤷ ynsmymama i vote early stages of dating. yn's a touchy person in nature so you know, it can be that
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yourinstagram added to her IG story!
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a/n: do you want to see more of them?
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part 2
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hi bae, can i pls request reader who’s recovering from eating problems and is gaining a bit of weight and gets insecure with poly marauders but they just find her more attractive cause of it
fighting demons rn
🫶🏻🫶🏻
Hi sweetheart, apologies for the wait! I was hunting your demons with a crossbow. Thanks for requesting <3
cw: implied past disordered eating, body image issues
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words
Your favorite high waisted jeans used to sit just so on your hips, practically hanging off your hip bones. Now, they hug your waist, which you try to reason is where they were always meant to be, but it feels so wrong on your body. Everything about your body feels wrong. You jam your fingers in the waistband, and there’s little give. You’re beginning to wonder if you should even bother with these, when you know you’ll eat and they’ll start to bite into your midsection like a punishment. But they’re your favorite jeans.
James comes through on his way to the bathroom with a careless “Hi, lovie,” and you drop your hands from where they’ve been pinching critically at your waist.
“Hi,” you echo halfheartedly.
James pauses, pivoting slightly to give you a curious look. You have an out here, you know. You could fake a smile or feign confusion, and he’d let it go. Perhaps he’d be keeping a closer eye on you today, but James will never push the issue if you don’t feel like talking.
Maybe it’s the option that makes you think it might be nice to externalize.
“I’ve gained weight,” you say plainly. There.
James’ eyebrows shoot up, more surprised at the abruptness of your complaint than the complaint itself. “Well, I should hope so. You’ve been doing really well lately.”
“It’s just,” you sigh, “my jeans don’t fit.”
He gives you a quick look-over, then an odd sort of smile. “They look great to me. Do they not feel right?”
You feel your mouth quirk to the side. A dissatisfied pinch. “They used to feel different.”
“That’s alright, sweetheart,” he says, going into the bathroom. You hear the satisfying schwick of his deodorant cap sliding off. “Do they still sell those same ones?”
You give a tentative nod as he emerges from the bathroom again, and he shrugs at you, a funny scrunch at the bridge of his nose.
“Then get them in a bigger size.”
Not what you want to hear. Not necessarily his fault, either. James doesn’t get it. How could he? The only time James’ body doesn’t look like it was drawn into a superhero comic is the few weeks of off-season where he doesn’t train as hard and gets a bit of pudge around his middle. And even then, it’s a very lovable pudge. James Potter wouldn’t know insecurity if it slept in his bed every night. (Which it does. You do.)
“That’s not the point,” you say, and despite your best intentions your voice comes out with a petulant edge. “I just—I liked how these ones looked on me before. Don’t you think I look…different?”
The scrunch migrates from the bridge of his nose to just above it, an unhappy notch between his brows. “Well, yeah. But I mean, I like it.”
You give him a deadpan look.
“I’m being honest.” James holds up his hands. “Really, sweetheart, I didn’t want to—I know talking about your body can be an issue for you, so I didn’t want to bring it up, but you’ve been looking fantastic lately.”
You’re quiet, stuck. You aren’t sure what you’d wanted out of this anymore (validation, maybe?) but you’re not going to get it this way. You only feel bad for putting James in this position. He’s your boyfriend and a good one, he only ever had one way out of this.
“Sorry,” you say, wrapping your arms around your torso, “I didn’t mean to fish for compliments.”
“Hey.” He steps into your space, hooking his fingers through your belt loops to turn you towards him. “You’re not asking for anything I don’t want to give. You look amazing, I mean it.” Your eyes fall to his chest and he stoops to follow them, dark brows rising incredulously. “What, you don’t believe me?”
You sigh. “I’m sorry I brought it up, okay? Can we not—”
“Nope.” James lets go of one of your belt loops but keeps a firm hold on the other. “Sorry, no longer an option.” He begins tugging you out of the room. Your hips follow disloyally, and though you wrap your hands around his wrist, he holds fast.
“James, come on.” You give a little resistance, but he drags you doggedly onward. You could tear away if you commit to it, but these really are your favorite jeans and James is just as likely to take your belt loop with him.
In the living room, Sirius is mending a pair of James’ trousers while Remus does the crossword, which involves him reading the clues aloud and Sirius firing off unrelated and too-long words until Remus gets it himself. Remus hears your protest first, brows rising as James brings you into the room.
“What’s going on?” he asks, somewhat warily.
“She doesn’t believe me when I tell her she’s lovely,” James says, like Can you believe it? Remus blinks and Sirius’ eyes flit up from his work, one brow quirking.
“That’s not what I said,” you defend.
He releases you, and you step away, crossing your arms over your midsection. “Go on, then.” James sounds truly encouraging, though dubious. “Tell us how lovely you are, angel.”
You roll your eyes. It’s difficult not to feel frivolous when they put you on the spot like this. “I was only saying that I don’t like the fit of my jeans now.”
If you hadn’t had Sirius’ full attention already, you do now. He sets down James’ trousers, beckoning you forward, “C’mere, let’s see.”
You go to stand between his legs, dread coiled like a snake around your ribcage that only squeezes tighter at the unflinching intensity of Sirius’ gaze while he analyzes your face.
You look down to escape it, sticking your thumb into the waistband of your jeans. “Look, they’ve gotten small—”
“I can see for myself,” he says softly, moving your hand out of the way and replacing your thumb with his own slender fingers. They’re cool against your abdomen. He slides them around to the side of your waist, tugging experimentally at the denim. “Gorgeous, these fit great. This is exactly where you’d usually want them to be. What’s the issue?”
“It’s just—they don’t—” You feel more and more ridiculous by the second, and you can’t figure out if you’re frustrated with yourself or with them for that. “They used to sit lower, and now I—I just feel like I look weird.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” James insists, seating himself on the coffee table and setting his elbows on his knees. Sirius nudges your ankle with his foot, silent encouragement to sit between him and Remus. You comply. “You don’t look weird, sweetheart, you’re—listen, you’ve always been beautiful, but lately, it’s like—you’re just, you’re stunning.”
You shrink from the compliment, face humiliatingly warm. “Thanks, Jamie, but you have to say that.”
“No, he’s right,” Remus chimes in. He sounds so matter-of-fact, as if he’s simply recounting how traffic was on the way home from work today. “You don’t look the same as you did before, true, but it’s not a bad change. You’re just not used to seeing yourself healthy, is all.”
“Exactly.” James throws up his palms, relieved.
You consider this. It was warped perspective that had gotten you into this mess. Maybe you’re still not seeing things clearly quite yet.
Sirius wraps a hand around the inside of your thigh, tugging it over one of his. “Babe, if these jeans are evidence of anything, it’s that you’re finally growing into the size you were always supposed to be. If you eventually have to get a larger pair, then fine. It still won’t mean anything about you. You’re exactly right, understand?”
You nod, feeling thoroughly chastened, and Sirius grins. His fingertips dig into your thigh as he leans over to kiss your cheek.
“Honestly, I don’t know how you can’t see it,” James says, looking pleased to have some validation from the other boys. “You’re radiant, lovie, your skin is glowing, you look happier—really, you’ve never been more lovely.”
“It helps that we know you’re doing better, too,” Remus says, a bit quieter. “Frailty doesn’t suit you, dove. It’s…I love you no matter what, but it does make it easier when you’re kind to yourself. Feels more like we’re on the same team.”
“Thanks,” you say softly, then once more for good measure. “Thanks, guys.”
“Told you already,” James says, “you’re not asking for anything we don’t want to give.”
“You liked it when these jeans fit a bit saggier, showed more skin, yeah?” Sirius asks. You nod with a shrug. It doesn’t feel quite so important now. “We can do that. We’ll get you the same ones, if you want, or another pair that might sit a bit more on your hips.” He gives your thigh a squeeze through your jeans. “Gotta show off this bod, right, babydoll?”
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𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐞 ༉‧₊˚.⁀➷
therapist! jonathan crane x female reader.
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: when your father decided that you needed therapy, taking you to his dear friend dr. crane to treat and help you, you thought it wouldn't work at all, but it turned out to be everything you needed.
𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: SMUT(minors dni!!), noncon/dubcon, depression, cursing, crane is a mysoginistic prick, using therapy for unhinged reasons, smut, hair pulling, jonathan just being an creep, choking AND strangulation, dacryphilia, hitting, unprotected sex (safe sex its great sex!!), breeding kink, forced breeding, power dynamics, i think crane should be a warning himself, reader being borderline stupid and naive. also this has a lot of backstory i’m so sorry i got carried away lol.
𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 7.1K
𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: omg my first fic on here!! this is also my first work on english and my first smut ever so i apologise in advance for any mistake!! i hope y'all enjoy it anyways ahahahaha live laugh love jonathan crane👏🏻 feedback its very appreciated so i can improve and continue to publish better works, anyways enjoyyyy 💓
𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁
It was awkward, to say the least.
You were sitting across from Doctor Crane in the couch at your dad's house, legs crossed as you watched him write on his clipboard, something about it making you feel anxious, a little nauseous, even.
This wasn't your first session, you started doing this four months ago, not long after your divorce that caused you to fall into a spiral of sadness and misery. Your failed— and short marriage was the main reason you started taking therapy with your dad's friend, the chief of Arkham, Jonathan Crane, and still, you couldn't bring yourself to talk about it.
He was patient, you told him several times that he was a saint. Regardless, before you started with the sessions, he explained to your dad that he didn't really do this; therapy really wasn't his strong suit, but for a friend, a desperate one, he would gladly do it.
Your dad came to him, offering a big stack of money if he would talk to his little girl, make her recover her once joyful personality, like you had one to begin with. Jonathan really couldn't say no, and not really because of the money, he had other reasons in mind, unethical reasons.
And there you were now. You were quick to open up to him, eager to talk, to be listened and he, on the other hand, was ready to listen, to give you advice, console you and help you get through the sorrow that was following you since you were young, playing the role of your knight in shinning armor.
"I can't believe you don't actually do this" you said once, sniffling your nose with a handkerchief he gave you as he examined you with a warm gaze, an empathetic grin on his face. "You're really helping me"
Jonathan was quick to wave his hand and tell you that it wasn't a big deal, that he was just doing his job, and if you weren't so innocent, so stupid, you would have noticed the mischievous sparkle that flickered in his eyes for a split second.
You were landing right in the palm of his hand.
Not even thirty minutes into the first session you told him everything about your past; every little thing you thought he needed to know to treat you. And you were slightly right; he did need to know those things, but not to treat you, just to manipulate you and mold your little brain into what he was envisioning for you and your future together.
Truth was, you hated everything about your life, regardless of the fact that you had everything. That's what you've been told since you were a child; a big house, a lot of money, maids taking care of you so you wouldn't have to move a finger and just sit pretty and relax inside the walls of the huge mansion that confined you since you could recall.
You have everything. That was bullshit.
Sometimes, you couldn't help but think that people told you that out of pity, like they knew how miserable you felt, but not daring to say a word about it. Your dad was a powerful man, and you were aware of that, ever since you were born, he had bussines with Falcone and you knew that people feared him, he practically ruled Gotham, that lifeless and dangerous city that you had to live in.
You have everything. You were tired of that sentence. You didn't care at all about these nice things surrounding you, those dresses in your closet, those diamonds in your jeweler, that fancy car you owned since your eighteenth birthday, no, that was useless in your eyes, because all you really wanted, was love.
It was a lonely life; you learned how to do everything by yourself, how to comb your hair, how to deal with your period when it first came, how to dress up properly and do your makeup. You didn't even had to learn about boy problems because there weren't any boys in your life, you were homeschooled. So you were quiet, not really having to talk at all, there was nobody to talk to.
And since Jonathan was the only person you were talking to at the moment, you started to feel like you loved him, the idea sitting right with you without you even knowing it, thinking that this was how therapy normally went.
Loneliness striked your life at a young age; your mother died from a strange disease when you were eight, leaving you with a shattered heart thad bled everytime you walked past her bedroom, or saw a picture of her. You practically watched her die, a witness of how she lost her strength, how her once beautiful skin turned pale and yellow, and lost every little spark within herself, and the worst part was that all the money you had, couldn't even help her.
It was a deep wound that you carried with yourself, with nobody to talk about it.
Your father spent his days locked up in his office, and when he wasn't there, he was out in the city doing unthinkable things that you didn't even wanted to know about, leaving you on your own, having to fill all of those silent and empty rooms by yourself, with nobody to laugh with, nobody to hold you and see you grow. He wasn't really around, working all the time, too busy to know that his daughter didn't seem to care about all the expensive stuff he bought for her, not even taking the time to have dinner with you or hold a simple conversation. He loved you, you knew that, he just wasn't the type to show his affection with words or actions, but with gifts. And you hated everything about it.
But now, Jonathan was there, making you feel listened, finally saving you from falling into loneliness again. Your whole life, you thought you had a horrible sickness, that you were doomed to this awful destiny of sorrow and silence, but now, with his sweet words and good company, you couldn't be more than relieved.
You wished sometimes that you met him earlier, that this whole therapy stuff started before, and you even confessed it to him. And it irked him a little, that you didn't even remember how you two really met each other, hiding his annoyance with a warm smile.
Some months ago, your father started to brought you to parties he attended, parties were all the corrupts scumbags from Gotham reunited and celebrated how they were dragging the city to the gates of hell on their benefit, and you couldn't be more happy to attend them. You knew he was bringing you because he recently broke up with the young girl he carried with him— that was most likely your age, and needed a pretty thing to hang of his arm and take care of the people he didn't feel like talking to.
So you accepted this new life, eating up this role of socialite like it was made for you.
It was a chance to know people, to speak and make new friends, but you learned quickly that those people weren't there for that, and picked up on how mostly of the people who talked to you just wanted to climb up the social ladder and gain some extra points from your father.
He, even, introduced you to a couple of people that seemed close to your age, and you chatted with them, feeling extremely anxious because you weren't used to this, so it was weird to them seeing such a pretty woman, with your status and fortune, acting so shy and quiet in a place that your dad practically owned.
After a couple of hours, you learned the agenda. All you had to do was put on a fake smile, get them off your father's shoulders and pretend you were very interested in what they had to say, hiding your uncomfortable expression behind your glass of champagne, promising them that you would arrange a reunion with your father someday.
One of those nights, your father introduced you to someone, someone who you didn't pay much attention because he seemed to be uninterested too, only being there for the sake of his job.
"Pretty girl, come here" your father said, a cheerful tone of voice as grabbed you by the shoulder to get your attention, snapping you out of your train of thoughts. "I want you to meet my friend, Doctor Crane"
You looked at the man in front of your dad, his pale blue eyes already sizing you up discretely, looking at you up and down in a way that didn't go unnoticed by you, a shiver running down your spine as his eyes finally locked with yours.
You couldn't help but feel small under his gaze, your glass now forgotten in your left hand, the right one extended to take his and stretch it for a quick second, returning to your first position, his expression remaining serious.
"Nice to meet you" he spoke, his voice sounding like velvet in your eyes, not quite sensing the undertone behind it. "Your father told me wonders about you"
You grin, the irony of that sentence making you laugh a little, what wonders could your father know about you? But you kept your composure, the conversation not going any further, and you forgot about him fast enough, when in another of those annoying parties you met the love of your life — or so you thought.
That same night, when you went back home, you were thinking about spending the rest of your life with some guy that flirted with you at the bar, and Jonathan, prayed to whatever thing listening to him up there, that crossed your path with his again.
He practically obsessed with you, because it felt right. You were young, beautiful, wealthy and had a last name that could open even more doors for him, getting tired of saving Falcone's man of going to jail; you were an opportunity, tied to a nice pair of legs.
After a few weeks of stalking, it kinda broke his heart that naive as he expected you, you got married to the guy from the party; he told you then his name was Lewis, and now you doubted it that was even true.
You were finally going to get what you always wished for, a family, love. And it was perfect. Everything was perfect.
It was a dream that you were living in. A dream that shattered in front of you no longer than three months after.
After you contracted married with this man, you took care of the house, now learning all of these housewife duties that you didn't know anything about, but making your best effort to please him, to be the perfect woman ever created, departing from your old life and habits and adjusting them to his own.
You couldn't be more happy, regardless of your bad cooking, the bad-swiped floor and the half-done bed that welcomed you both every night, you finally had love.
It lasted three months. Your wholesome real life fantasy of a marriage destroyed when you found out, accidentally, that this man was just an employee of your dad, willing to get a promotion if he married you. At that moment, you didn't know who you hated more, if the bastard, or your dad who was literally bribing the bastard to love you.
But your dad only wanted to make you happy, tho.
You were embarrassed, not quite sure of how to tell this to Jonathan, because after all, he was there for you, just for the money your dad was paying him. Your cursed the day your dad became rich, because all of it was making you miserable and it felt like it wasn't going to stop.
At this point, a feeling of despite against you was growing within Jonathan, after a few weeks treating you, he quickly remembered why he didn’t chose this path of career, but remembering that he was there because of a major reason; a reason more important than your helpless cries for attention.
He was sick of you, all you ever did was complain in the commodity of your million dollar house, unaware that there were more important problems in the world. It isn’t completely your fault, Jonathan thought one day, you were just an ungrateful brat, and his work was to tame you, and he planned to do just that today.
"So," he startled you, narrowing his eyebrows, an expression in his face that you could only understand as concern. "remember, if you don't speak, I can't help you".
You chuckle and shift your weight in the chair, immediately feeling your eyes fill up with tears as you confronted the fact that you had to speak about it, right now. He was quick to offer you his handkerchief, as he always did and with shaky hands you took it, sniffling onto it, closing your eyes as you felt your whole body shake with each one of your cries.
You felt Jonathan put his hand on your knee, softy caressing the skin that his thumb could reach, opening your eyes and looking at his, Jonathan welcoming you with a pitying look. You put the tissue aside, both him being so close and his scent impregnated on the piece of fabric making you feel a little giddy, a little confused.
Why was your heart racing so much? He was your therapist, here to talk about your former husband.
Jonathan couldn't help but grin a little, knowing he was maybe breaking a rule here, touching you like this, being so close. He couldn't care less, after all, he wasn't here listening to you cry and bitch about your whole life for the sake of your well-being. He was here because he wanted you to break and get on your knees to him. Figuratively and literally.
"It's so embarrassing" you struggled to spit out "He didn't even love me, Doctor"
He hummed, dragging his chair so he was a little closer to you, you looked at him through your teary lashes and tried to keep it together, this wasn't the first time you cried in front of him, but the reason itself was enough to make you feel full of shame.
He didn't say anything, this being a motivation for you to continue.
"My dad was paying him" you murmured, cleaning the mascara off your cheeks. "It was all a lie"
The whole situation was absurd, what happened to you still felt like a sick joke they were playing on you, your dad and Lewis, probably waiting for the perfect moment to tell you the truth.
But that wasn't going to happen, right now the only thing that felt true to you was Jonathan. He set you up to that, and you blindly fell on his silly trap.
"Poor thing" he cooed you, moving his hand a little further up your thigh, noticing the goosebumps on your skin. A mastermind, that's how he felt. "How could they?"
That was all the mendacity he fed you with since you started seeing him, making you believe he was actually empathizing with you, full of loathe against everyone who hurt you, who dared to leave you alone, but now he was there, his task being to pretend to care.
"It's pathetic" you blurted out, leaning into his touch when his prying hand went up to your cheek. You really couldn't say anything more, crying against his hand like it was something you did every monday morning. "I'm so sad. I don't know what to do"
He shook his face, your eyes meeting his with a confused expression, black stained tears dropping on your lap and wetting his hand before he returned it and looked over his clipboard, pretending to think.
You were so vulnerable, ready for him to destroy. He finally got you where he wanted. He then explained you that you were so sad that it made you unaware of a lot of things, blinded by your own pity against yourself that every door that opened, you closed. It all came down to a thing; you needed a diagnosis.
He gave you a moment to process the information, ready to continue with his plan.
"Actually," he started, his tone now more firm, more strict, the one he used when you were approaching the end of the session. On the last one, he recommended you to touch yourself, to liberate oxytocin on your brain or something you really didn't understood.
It was almost evil from his side, he knew that your only thought while doing it would he him ordering you to do so.
"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such awful news, Y/N" he stated, making your heart skip a beat. "But I think you're sick"
You nearly gasped, the air got stuck in your throat, more tears gathering in your eyes. You lifted one of your hands to your chest, a million thoughts crossing your head as Jonathan's clever eyes examined your expression.
Bingo.
"Sick" you repeated after a moment, almost like you were making peace with the revelation. "How sick?"
It was an innocent question, your tone of voice shaking as your inferior lip trembled, holding it with your teeth in an attempt to not burst into tears again, your whole body feeling like it was going to break into a million peaces by how much you were shaking in the couch.
Jonathan was quick, standing from the chair he was on and taking a seat by your side, his hand swiftly placing in your knee. You looked at him confused, he never got this close, maybe your sickness was serious.
"What am I, Doctor?" you whispered, your eyes showing him a hint of fear that made him finally lose all his faked professionalism. "Depressed? Crazy?"
Both of you were dying of anticipation now; meanwhile you feared that you were going to get admitted to Arkham, Jonathan was seeing the golden ticket to the best future he could ever achieve, and all thanks to you.
"Oh, no, no" he purred, his hand making its way up to your thigh. "You're sick, not crazy"
You parted your lips as his hand moved more further, not really sure of what was happening, not daring to stop him, too scared of your mental health to think about anything else, not helping the way your legs started to part too.
A sudden gasp left your lips as his hand squeezed your tight, a smile you never saw on him appearing on his face. The crying stopped a moment ago, the surprise of having him so close making you go a little numb.
"I know what a girl like you needs" he said, almost sternly, like his hand wasn't centimeters away from your panties.
Was in that moment, that you knew this wasn’t about therapy anymore.
"You think so?" you whispered, your voice still shaky, but now for a whole different reason. "And what is it, Doctor?"
"To be fucked stupid"
It almost shocked you how he said that as it was a normal diagnosis, like he gave you a name of a medicine you could go and buy at any drugstore in town. You gulped and didn't move when his grip tightened on your leg, your face growing red.
A loud gasp escaped your lips when at your lack of response, Jonathan grabbed you hard by the jaw and forced you to look at him. Your eyes glistened with nothing but fear, your brows narrowing as you mumbled something that he really couldn't understand, and it wasn't like he wanted to.
"You're sick, Y/N" he repeated, more harshly this time, his hand moving your head as he spoke. "And I'm going to cure you"
He let go of your face to clasp his lips against yours, a kiss very far away from sweet, his mouth moving roughly against yours. You never had been kissed like this, so you tried to play it along, trying to show him some of the love you felt for him, that you thought you owed him.
But he didn't care if you felt loved during the kiss, trying to assert the dominance he held upon you, his hand now holding firmly the back of you neck to prevent you from pulling away.
It was a mess; your teeth clashed, drool was dripping from your chin as his tongue explored every space of your mouth, not leaving anywhere of it untouched. Your movements were a little stiff, unsure of what to do, trying to provide the sweetness that he lacked.
His hand moved to your the front of your neck and squeezed it a little, making you yelp in surprise, the sound muffled by his mouth. You tried to get away from the kiss, confused about his rough actions against you, a little scared of him even, almost like you didn’t trust him every little part of your brain in this same couch for the last couple of months.
But then it clicked on your foggy brain, he knew you, perfectly— you only knew his name, you didn’t know what this man was capable of.
You could only move a few centimeters away from his hungry mouth, your lips parted as tears welled in your eyes from the pressure he was applying to your neck.
“Stop” you managed to stutter, your breath mixing with his. “I can’t- breathe”
You doubted that he listened to you, your voice not coming out of your throat at all and getting stuck in your larynx, your voice-box completely muffled by his strong grip.
“Shut up, brat” he spitted, his tone sounding full of abhor, your eyes wide open as you felt the air leaving your body and your lungs starting to burn. “Always getting what you want”
You weakly placed one of your hands around his wrist, another attempt of gasp elicited from your agape mouth as he lifted his other hand and choked you with both, something in your dizzy mind telling you that he was possessed.
“Crying all the time- complaining” he continued, not caring if you were listening, the suffocation being to much to bare now. “So selfish”
And maybe he was.
Your brain was filled with fear, wondering how it all went from a kiss to this— almost getting killed by your therapist in your couch. You opened your eyes to meet his, feeling like your chest was on fire as there wasn’t any air flowing in, seeing how the blue of Jonathan’s eyes has darkened and his lips were parted as well, the muscles of his jaw twitching as he choked you to death.
Your eyebrows narrowed together in terror as you noticed that familiar tingly sensation in your lower belly and your thighs clenching together. Maybe it was something about him exercising this power over you, how you felt so feeble under his touch, that was probably leaving bruises on your neck for you to carry and show around what he was making you do it.
You didn’t have enough time to think about it, you were practically dying.
“And you are enjoying this?” he said with an amused tone, probably noticing how your thighs fragily contracted against one another.
You felt yourself slowly lose your consciousness when finally the relief came and the air started to flow again to your desperate lungs, taking long and loud puffs of air when his hand let go of your neck. Your erratic breath was interrupted by a loud moan that escaped you when Crane yanked you by your hair and shoved you to the floor.
He was quick yo position you between his legs, looking at you through his unfixed glasses, giving you a twisted smile that made you quiver in fear, that growing wet patch on your panties making you feel like a really sick girl.
“Doctor-” you mumbled, closing your eyes as he pulled your hair, withdrawing a mewl off your mouth. “Hurts”
“You talk when I tell you to talk” he snickered, adjusting the way his fingers gripped your hair. You thought that he might just pull out the strand he was tugging. “I’m sick of your whining”
You felt more tears well up in your eyes; not sure if it was from the pain in your head or how his words felt like a knife that landed right on your heart. You were confused, sad, angry— a little hot, too.
“I pay you yo listen to me” you said, your voice so shaky you were lucky he could understand you. You wished he didn’t understand you.
Another sort of moan left your lips as a hard slap made a landing in your cheek, your face turned to the side because of the impact. You closed your eyes in disbelief, a cry coming out as you felt helpless, wondering if this was some exposure therapy he was experimenting on you.
He repeated himself, instructing you to talk only when you were told so, nodding in defeat as you accepted whatever this was and continued to play along with Jonathan’s sick fantasy of controlling you, without even knowing it.
You looked at him with nothing but inquietude, the look in his eyes giving you the foreboding that nothing good was about to happen now, frightened of what we would do to you.
He didn’t show any hints of letting go of your hair anytime soon, just holding it firmly to keep you looking at him through your heavy lashes, a wicked grin on his smug face.
“Let’s give that whining mouth of yours a good use” he said, and you gulped, understanding what he wanted and quivering in fear, not really understanding why the sticky sensation between your legs grew.
“Undo my pants” he commanded, and you stayed still, your eyes not leaving his even when another slap landed on your tear-wet face. “Do as you’re told, brat. This might be your only cure”
You couldn’t help but sob a little, his tone sounding so definitive, so professional. Your trembling hands reached his belt and unbuckling it ungracefully, taking longer than he expected, you heard him chuckle as you unbuttoned his pants afterwards, then putting your hands back in front of your lap.
“C’mon” he pulled your hair again, causing you to moan in pain. “Don’t make me tell you what to do”
You looked at him again in nothing but shame, trying to resist to this humiliating request of his, but complying it anyways. He said he was going to cure you, but now you doubted it, right now, you only wanted this to be over.
With a last look at his eyes you returned your attention to the growing bulge in his slacks, the shame in your brain being present at all times, not quite helping the way your eyes were fixated on his clothed member. You were quick to free him out after your staring earned you a other harsh pull of hair, your lips turned into a line when his cock slapped his abdomen, causing his dress shirt to wrinkle a little.
“Go on, Y/N” he encouraged you, as you looked at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him for mercy, knowing that even if you screamed it at him, he just wouldn’t listen. “This isn’t about what you want, anymore. Is about what you need”
A tear slid from your eyes and disappeared down your cheek when his free hand placed the tip of his hard cock on your parted lips, gesturing you to take it and not waste more of his time— more than you already did.
“Open up, whore” he said under his breath, using your hair as a device to move your head and help you shove his length down your throat. You complied, the tears in your eyes now soaking in you cheeks by the effort that you were making trying to welcome his thick shaft down your mouth.
You were sure you scratched him with your teeth a few times as he bobbed your head up and down with his strong hand, manhandling you without care for his own pleasure. You placed your hands on his knees, trying not to gag, but when his tip touched the bottom of your throat, you couldn’t help it.
You cried as you felt suffocated again, now for a whole different reason, a more humiliating one, and you almost wished he killed you then. His hips buckled everytime your lips reached the base of his cock, the room filled with the sounds of your mouth and saliva coating his shaft and the soft moans that came out of his poisoned lips.
“Take it, whore” he said, his voice now husky and distorted by the pleasure, the pain that your teeth accidentally inflicted on him turning him even more. “God- you are horrible at this”
He chuckled between heavy breaths, pulling you by the hair and releasing his cock from your mouth, a vulgar pop filling both of your ears at the sudden separation of your lips and his member. Your eyes looked at the floor, feeling such a shame that the mere thought of meeting his face with your fearful face made you cringe, the pulsating pain on the back of your head making you dizzy.
“You can’t suck dick properly” he said, his tone sounding like he was making fun of you. “No wonder why your husband left you. You’re just pathetic”
You finally rose up your face to look at that insufferable smile of his, ignoring the way his cock was still hanging there in front of you, almost brushing your nose. His fingers finally untangled from your hair and giving you some sort of solace, the consolation that this traumatic session was over.
Maybe the remedy was worse than the sickness itself.
“Jonathan, stop it, plea-”
Your imploration was completely ignored, followed by another slap on your wet cheek that made you cry even more, not understanding how this man could’ve been the same one who made you felt loved and finally listened. You fell for a lie once again.
“Get on the couch” he simply said, his words were like a bucket of cold water fell on you. “Stop the bitching, don’t want to hear it”
“And I’m your doctor. Not Jonathan” he reminded you, making you feel even more ashamed.
You did as he told, again, half-standing from the floor and sitting next to him, trying to take as much space from him as you could before he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, your face growing red as his face was now centimeters away from yours.
“You look so beautiful when you cry” he whispered, caressing your face but trying to nor wipe the tears away, almost like he was admiring you. It made you melt into his touch, glad that his kind demeanor was there again. Even if his words made you cringe— and the fact that his cock was still out, you felt your heart grew warmer by the way he tenderly touched you.
It didn’t last much longer, when his lips twitched into a malicious smile and went down to nibble your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses around the bruised skin and bitting where his fingers hurt you previously, making your fingers wrap on his hair and cry for mercy, trying for him to stop hurting you this much.
“Shut up, stupid brat” he repeated that same insult, making you swallow your cries, closing your eyes in disbelief as he continued to injure your already suffering skin.
You arched your back in surprise when all of the sudden his hands reached for your breasts, groping your tits like his life depending on it, stimulating you through the fabric of your shirt, but all you felt was fear and anger, impotence flowing through your veins because you just couldn’t scream and push him away, fear was freezing you on the spot.
The worst part? You maybe didn’t wanted to push him away. Because maybe if he gets what he wants now you would be cured and he’ll be back to normal, returning you the sweet Doctor Crane that you met once, not this monster that was groping you like a piece of meat.
He clicked his tongue and dropped both of his hands to spread your legs open, forcing your back to drop onto the hand rester of the couch. You looked at him with big eyes, your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest and scream to Jonathan that enough was enough, you just couldn’t take any of this anymore.
But your heart stayed there, between your lungs that seemed incapable to hold any air, making your breathing erratic. So nobody screamed Jonathan to stop, and he continued with his profanation against your persona— your dignity.
He bit his lip at the sight of your fucked-up face, your legs open as it showed him the dark patch on your baby blue panties, darting his eyes from your half-exposed crotch to your teary eyes.
“God, keep crying and I might come now” he growled, lowering his face to meet your pussy, kissing it through your underwear, making you mewl, closing your eyes at the sudden attention your core was getting.
You felt embarrassed at how much you enjoyed when he moved the fabric to the side and started making out with your cunt, swallowing your fluids like a starved man.
“So wet” he mumbled against your labia, the vibration making your eyes roll back, bitting your lip to prevent any moan to come out; he was raping you, why did he make you enjoy it? “I bet you like this, to be treated like a whore”
You shook your head, more tears falling out of your eyes as you felt nothing else but humiliation, pleasure washing over your body everytime his tongue brushed your clit, your back arched against nothing.
“You like it?” he said, finally pulling out and pushing his body up so his face was in front of yours, his cock grazing against your now stimulated pussy, a gasp leaving your lips, a gasp that quickly turned into a hurting moan when his hand slapped you again, this time in your throbbing cunt. “Answer me”
“I- I do” you whispered, gripping his shoulders when you felt him align the head of his member with your whole, scared of how it was going to fit. You had trouble taking it when he face-fucked you, how the fuck it was going to fit down there?
“I’m going to fuck you so good” he whispered between pants, jerking himself off before entering you. “You’re going to forget that pathetic husband of yours”
You couldn’t help but cry, trying to push him off by the shoulders, a terrified look on your face. “It won’t fit, Doctor” you pleaded, a crooked grin on his face as you keep on calling him that. “I beg you, don’t-”
“Yes, beg me” he said, starting to push his member inside you with a slow but relentlessly pace, not giving you enough time to adjust, just to scream and hit him weakly on the chest, face and shoulders before ge grabbed your hands and pinned them down, on the sides of your body. “I’m going to cure you- do you so good”
His voice was low, as he barely could speak when he felt just how tight you were, your walls hugging his cock just the right way, his pulsating head making your mind dizzy, the stinging pain starting to be forgotten.
But when he slid out and entered back it, the hardness of his movement made your insides burn with pain, a loud cry echoing in the walls of the living room as he started to trust into your pussy with a fast pace, not caring at all if you felt good.
He snapped his hips against yours with an animalistic force, growls escaped from his mouth every time his cock was welcomed by the warmth of your stretch whole, the sensation making him go even more feral, making you cry more.
He let go of one of your hands and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at his eyes as he fucked you vigorously, the blue on his iris not existent anymore, only his widely dilated pupils meeting yours, your blurred vision distinguishing the depraved expression in his face.
“You- so tight” he snarled, his voice barely audible, covered by the sound of skin slapping and your loud cries. “I bet your stupid husband didn’t fuck you like this”
You felt nothing but shame as you felt his cock now sliding in and out more easily, the wetness of your cunt growing as he spoke to you like that, that familiar heat flourishing in your lower belly as his words degraded you, your cries quickly becoming moans.
“This was all you needed- fuck” he said, his spit splashing your face as he talked, his words full of disdain. “A good dick, that’s all it takes to keep bitches like you quiet” You nodded, thinking that if you agreed he would stop. How wrong you were.
In a quick movement Jonathan took his cock out and spun you around, not giving you time to get on your ass up by laying your chest down before he stabbed your hole again, pushing your skirt all the way up to see how his pelvis came into collision with your ass.
You were moaning like a bitch in heat now, sure that the maids were listening, not really caring about it anymore. Jonathan was fucking you nice and hard, your mouth wide open as his tip brushed your cervix, screaming to him to keep it right there.
“I’m close” he said, pulling your hair back to press his chest to your back, his other hand going down to play with your swollen clit, wanting your to come around his cock like the slut he knew you were. “Come with me, you whore”
“Yes” you moaned, your tongue out as his cock hit the right spots, making your hips to move against his, grinding against his hand and dick, feeling your wetness drip down to your thighs. “Yes, yes, I want to”
He laughed, approaching your ear with his tongue to bite it, leaving a long and wet kiss underneath it that made you grow hotter, your eyes closed as you let him use you; the only thought in your mind being him and his wonder-working cock.
Truth was, he was fucking you stiffly, every slam of his hips stronger than the last one, but you were so deprived of touch, so dick-starved, that even if Jonathan was fucking you like a lifeless doll, only for the sake of his pleasure, you loved it, even when it hurt you.
“I’m going to fill you up” he said against your ear, his hand leaving your clit unattended as he grabbed your hip to increase the velocity of his thrusts, ramming your hole like a demented man, making your head drop against his shoulder and scream at the ceiling, now knowing what he meant by curing you.
“Going to get you pregnant” he said, more to himself than anything “so you don’t have to bitch about being alone anymore”
You opened your eyes with terror, you didn’t want children, you were so young. The idea made you frightened, the moaning now sounding like little nos and pull outs, but Jonathan didn’t listen.
“Doctor please, please, pull out” you pleaded, reaching for his hips and trying to push him away, one of his hands slapping your ass and pulling you down by your shoulder blade so you wouldn’t fight anymore. “Doctor Crane please”
“I will fucking fill you up, Y/N” he chanted, laughing at the idea of your round belly and your swollen tits, carrying his baby all day and feeling all worked up and needy all day, only waiting for him to fuck you all day. “You won’t be alone again. You won’t be sad again”
Then you realized it.
When he came, your hot walls creamed every single drop of his cum, making his thrusts sloppy and slow, his moans filling your ears as you sobbed under his touch, feeling his seed paint your walls and load your insides with his sperm.
That was your cure.
His hot release that now flooded inside your leaking cunt, that was your so-promised antidote. He took away your solitude by giving you his and yours firstborn, a bastard baby that would give you the company that you lacked.
You felt him chuckle as he rode out his high, the chase of his own climax made you forget yours, so now there you were, your swollen cunt looking for its release while his rested among your insides calmly, like it was meant to be.
He didn’t pull out immediately, taking his time to appreciate the sight of your skirt resting in your hips all rolled up, your bruised neck and messy hair, the way your ass was exposed to him by the way he had you arching your back. All for him— for him to wreck.
He pulled out and rolled his eyes when you started crying, now being annoying instead of hot. You sat on the couch and saw him button his pants and fix his hair, hissing when you felt nothing but pain growing in your worn-out pussy. You explained through your weak voice how he ruined your life, that he was the worst person you’ve ever met and that now you had to carry the product of his sick and twisted rapist-fantasy, even tried to hit him, but your pathetic tantrum only gained you another slap in the face, and a stern look.
When he tried to stand up and leave, you grabbed him by the wrist and begged him not to, he couldn’t just leave you, not now, not ever.
“Don’t be so ungrateful” he said, a smile that made you feel nothing but trepidation in his face. “You’ll never be alone again”
You couldn’t help but feel scared. Scared of him, of what just happened, of what’s going to happen next, scared for your future son with this evil specie of a man.
When you continued to cry, and he pulled you for a hug as he assured you that he would never leave you; and how could he? He had a long life of success waiting for him now, giving a girl of your status his last name, his children. Oh, it’s going to be wonderful, he just needed to tame you and make you the perfect slave for him, and that wasn’t going to be hard.
You were sure that you’ll never be loved, but at least now Jonathan was going to be with you. You’ll never be alone again.
thanks for reading. w/love, fenina;)
taglist: @lovesickxcherries @genini @ilunapb @ostricx @devotedlyshadowytheorist
if you want to be added let me know, it’ll be my pleasure🫶🏻
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