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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 4 months

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Office Hours/Bells - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (Part 2)

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 16409

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, Professor x Student, mild body horror, kidnapping

Summary: Jonathan had taken Y/n back to his hideout. He wanted to keep her close so she couldn't expose his identity, but he also wanted her company. this is a part two.

A/N: thank you everyone for reading the first part, I never planned to make a part two, but I had someone in the comments asking for it so I thought 'it couldn't hurt' so here we are! Just a heads up, I made Y/n's mums name (Karen) because it's such a common mum name, so if that's not your mums name, just insert yours. It's only said once anyways so it's not that important. He also might be a bit OOC so sorry about that. (Part 1) - (Part 3)

Jonathan knew he could come off harsh as a teacher. In almost every lecture, he couldn't help but poke fun at his students' expenses. He felt insulted by their audacity to believe they could truly grasp his intellect. And he wouldn’t lie, he enjoyed seeing them squirm as well.

Most students barely lasted a month in Jonathan's classes, and even those who did manage to stick around were nothing more than mediocre. However, there was one student that captured his attention – not because she was loud or flashy, but because of her care and thought she put into her work. Her dedication spoke volumes to Jonathan, leaving him intrigued and enamored.

Jonathan had never expected to interact with her beyond the classroom setting. Yet, the moment she entered his office and sought his help, something within him shifted. He couldn't resist the urge to know more about her. Suddenly, she was no longer just another student; she was an enigma, a puzzle he desperately craved to solve. With each passing encounter, his obsession grew stronger, consuming him like a drug until he could hardly imagine living without her. Like an addict, he yearned for more – more knowledge, more insight, and ultimately, more of her.

Desperate to prove himself worthy of her affections, he went to great lengths to impress her, going above and beyond to demonstrate his devotion, subtly. Guiding her through the eerie halls of Arkham, watching her eyes widen in wonder at every twisted detail, filled him with immense pride. Each small gesture – whether it be a compliment or an offering of assistance – served not only to affirm her value in his eyes but to cement his hold over her, hoping she fall within his web of seduction.

However, the encounter with Edward Nigma had cast a shadow over the uneasy alliance between the two villains. The Riddler had been a reliable business partner for Jonathan in the past. However, their last deal had taken an unexpected turn, resulting in Edward's incarceration within the confines of Arkham Asylum. The strained relationship between the two rogues was palpable, and it left a mark on their partnership.

As the conversation unfolded, the Riddler couldn't resist stirring the pot. His sharp gaze fixed on Crane, Nigma slyly questioned if Y/n was brought to Arkham with ulterior motives. With a calculated smirk, he hinted at Crane's association with Scarecrow, casting a shadow of doubt over the true intentions behind Y/n's presence.

The strain on their friendship became palpable when Y/n confronted Jonathan about the tension with Edward Nigma. However, discussing the truth was not a choice to him.

The notion of kidnapping Y/n lingered in the recesses of Jonathan's mind like a forbidden temptation. To take such drastic measures would be a damning acknowledgment of his own internal turmoil, an admission that his fixation had crossed into dangerous territory. Yet, he found himself caught in a web of desire that he couldn't escape.

Jonathan grappled with conflicting emotions, torn between the part of him that yearned for what was best for Y/n and the other, more insidious side, driven by an irresistible urge to possess her.

The decision to sew bells to Y/n's ankles, while she lay unconscious, spoke volumes about the depth of his internal conflict. It was a sinister reminder that while he harbored a desire to protect her, the darker, more primal instincts within him demanded her submission. The delicate chime of those bells echoed the symphony of Jonathan Crane's fractured desires, a haunting melody that only he could hear.

Jonathan never envisioned it coming to this point, where the lines between caring and obsession blurred into a disconcerting shade of gray. His internal battle waged on, a silent war that threatened to consume both him and the unsuspecting Y/n in the intricate dance of obsession and possession.

Once Jonathan Crane moved Y/n's unconscious form to his hideout, a dimly lit warehouse for his macabre experiments and toxic concoctions, he carefully laid her on a worn-out mattress in the shadowy corner of the second floor. The second floor was only a temporary home for him when he had to work late nights and long hours.

As he gently laid her tired body down, Jonathan couldn't help but notice the evidence of her distress—swollen eyes and lips, and scuffed feet from running barefoot in the Narrows. The chase must have ruined not only her spirit but her body. The room, bathed in the sickly glow of dim overhead lights, seemed to close in around them, emphasizing the gravity of the situation.

Mindful of the bells adorning her ankles, Jonathan handled her delicate form with a mix of tenderness and care. As he observed her vulnerability, the weight of guilt settled in the pit of his stomach, a sensation he couldn't shake. The cold reality of what he had done sank in, and for a fleeting moment, he questioned the boundaries he had crossed. Yet, the insatiable pull of his obsessions persisted, casting a sinister shadow over the sincerity of his remorse.

The struggle to regain consciousness proved to be an difficult task for Y/n. Her senses were shrouded in a fog of disorientation, her head throbbing in protest. The persistent ringing in her ears added to the dissonance, making every attempt to open her eyes an exercise in agony. When she finally managed to part her heavy lids, the hazy world around her came into view.

Blinking away the fog, Y/n took in her unsettling surroundings. A crusty mattress beneath her was the only thing found in the room she woke up in. Well, if she could really call it a room, it resembled warehouse's second floor loft of some sort by the visible tin roof and metal flooring with poorly laid carpet and open railing. A thick coat draped over her body offered minimal comfort, a stark contrast to the unease that settled deep within her.

As her ears gradually ceased their ringing, a disconcerting silence enveloped the space. Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed against the metal stairs, sending a jolt through her. Her heart quickened its pace, a drumbeat of anxiety heralding the arrival of an unwelcome presence.

From the ascending stairs, a figure with dark hair and piercing blue eyes materialized, and dread tightened its grip around Y/n's chest. Jonathan Crane, the source of her torment, stood before her.

“How are you feeling?” he inquired, his voice carrying an unsettling mix of concern and detachment as he approached her bedside.

Y/n's response was a steely silence, a manifestation of her fury and fear. Her body trembled with a potent blend of emotions, and her glare bore into Jonathan, a silent accusation of betrayal.

Recognizing the futility of expecting a verbal response, Jonathan sighed, setting a glass of water and a dissolving pill beside her. "That's for the pain," he offered before retreating back down the stairs.

Once he left alone, Y/n's eyes welled with tears as the harsh reality of her captivity sank in. She cast her gaze downward, only to be confronted by the cruel reminder of her predicament—the horrid bells attached to her ankles. The weight of the situation pressed down on her, a visceral confirmation that this nightmare was, indeed, all too real.

As tears cascaded down Y/n's face, she lay on the crusted mattress, desperately attempting to stifle her sobs with her hand. The weight of her emotions bore down on her, each tear a silent testament to the fear and anguish that gripped her tightly.

Seeking solace, she reached for the thick coat that had initially offered a semblance of comfort. However, as she pulled it over herself, a wave of recognition washed over her. The scent clinging to the fabric was hauntingly familiar, a cruel reminder of the man responsible for her current torment.

In a surge of anger and defiance, Y/n hurled the coat away from her trembling form. The fabric, once a deceptive shroud of warmth, now lay discarded on the cold, unforgiving floor. "Fuck that bastard and his fucking coat," she seethed through gritted teeth and a quivering lip.

The discarded garment, like a discarded memory, lay there as a silent witness to the emotional tempest within the confines of the dimly lit warehouse. Y/n, left alone with the echoes of her pain.

Y/n awoke with a start, disoriented and frightened, only to find herself confronted by a man she couldn't immediately recognize. Reacting on pure instinct, she shoved him away, her instincts urging her to distance herself from any potential threat. However, the bell on her foot snagged on a loose thread of the mattress, causing a sharp cry of pain to escape her lips.

Jonathan, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, reached out to calm her, his intentions misunderstood in the haze of fear. Yet, Y/n, still gripped by a cocktail of anger and terror, vehemently rejected his touch. "Stop, Y/n, you're only going to hurt yourself," he implored, a rare note of concern colouring his voice.

"Fuck you!" Y/n spat back, her defiance ringing through the air.

Undeterred, Jonathan presented the glass of water he had placed nearby earlier, urging her to drink. However, her eyes, filled with tears and resentment, remained fixed on him with unyielding defiance. In a moment of rebellious fury, she knocked the glass from his hand, the water spilling across the mattress.

Exasperated, Jonathan kneeled on the mattress, attempting to approach her with care. Y/n, fueled by a potent mixture of fear and anger, resisted vehemently. Despite her struggles, Jonathan, with a resolve bordering on grim determination, restrained her arms, attempting to administer the pill he had procured.

Her resistance escalated into screams and kicks as he forced the pill into her mouth, the bitter taste causing her to recoil. Jonathan, undeterred, gently stroked her esophagus, triggering a reflex that forced her to swallow. Released but not defeated, she retaliated with a punch to his face, a futile expression of her rage.

Groaning but unfazed, Jonathan descended the stairs briefly, returning with a bottle of water. He left it beside her before retreating once more, leaving Y/n alone with the haunting realization that her captor's actions were driven by a twisted sense of care, a disconcerting paradox that only deepened the shadows of her captivity.

Y/n knew that they had once been friends served only to intensify the torment. The disconcerting reality of Jonathan's actions, driven by a distorted form of care, hung heavily in the air. Looking down, she finally noticed the tiny blanket placed over her, rather than the coat.

The pill, a bitter reminder of her lack of agency in this twisted narrative, lingered in her throat like a bitter truth. She couldn't shake the unsettling notion that each calculated move, from the bell-adorned ankles to the force-fed pill, was an expression of a grotesque form of affection. It was a confession steeped in darkness, a revelation that Jonathan's deranged obsession with her went beyond the bounds of conventional understanding.

Yet, as the water bottle stood there, a silent offering in the aftermath of their tumultuous encounter, Y/n couldn't bring herself to accept that he cared. She refused to believe that beneath the layers of madness, there existed a thread of genuine concern.

In the cold solitude of the warehouse, Y/n grappled not only with the physical restraints but also with the intangible bonds of a twisted connection. The unsettling blend of fear, anger, and reluctant acknowledgment of his twisted affection created a complex tapestry of emotions, weaving a narrative she never thought she'd be a part of.

The bitter taste of the pill lingered in Y/n's mouth, a cruel reminder of her involuntary submission to the whims of her captor. She was kind of pissed off at the fact that the pill did whatever it set out to do, at least what she assumed it was used for. Her body felt fine and she no longer ached as much.

The confinement to the bed, a symbol of her captivity, had begun to take its toll, and Y/n reluctantly acknowledged the pressing call of her biological needs. Despite her fierce determination to avoid any interaction with Jonathan, the reality of her situation forced her to confront an inevitable dilemma.

The thought of asking him for the the bathroom churned her stomach with indignation, but the urgency of the matter left her with no other choice. Contemplating a rebellious act, she briefly toyed with the idea of pissing herself on the mattress as an act of defiance. However, the potential repercussions, coupled with the degradation she would inevitably endure, prompted her to abandon the thought.

Summoning every ounce of strength, Y/n mustered the courage to rise from the worn mattress. Vertigo assailed her senses, and the room spun momentarily as she steadied herself against the railing. Glancing down, she observed Jonathan engrossed in a familiar scene of papers strewn across a table, a sight that had become all too familiar during her months of friendship with him.

Surveying the room below, she noted the limited doors—two doors serving as clear exits, one barricaded and the other locked. The last door remained an question, a potential sanctuary she dared to hope was a bathroom.

The descent down the metal stairs felt like a journey into the unknown for Y/n. Her reluctance to be spotted by Jonathan battled with the urgent demands of her body. Creeping down the stairs with a mix of determination and caution so her bells wouldn’t jingle, she aimed to reach the bathroom undetected, weaving through the dimly lit warehouse.

However, the universe seemed to conspire against her as, upon reaching the ground floor, Jonathan's gaze fixed upon her. A curse escaped her lips internally, but undeterred, she pressed on towards the bathroom. The weight of his stare bore into her back, a constant reminder of the fragile balance between autonomy and captivity.

Reaching the door, Y/n shot a hesitant glance back at Jonathan. To her relief, he made no move to stop her, confirming her assumption that the room indeed housed the sought-after sanctuary. With a fleeting glance of defiance, she pushed the door open, revealing a simple yet welcome sight—a toilet, sink, and shower.

The rush of relief that accompanied the bathroom's discovery matched the urgency of her previous mission. Y/n took a moment to savor the normalcy of the room before relieving herself. Washing her hands afterward, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and the reflection painted a stark contrast to the composed person she once was.

Her hair, tangled and unkempt, framed a face marked by fatigue. Despite the turmoil she endured, the absence of visible bruises provided a small solace. The bathroom, a brief respite from the harsh reality of her captivity, became a sanctuary where she confronted not only her immediate needs but also the disheveled reflection of a person transformed by the torment of her circumstances.

The abrupt encounter with Jonathan at the bathroom door elicited a startled shriek from Y/n. Her initial fear, however, quickly morphed into frustration, and she met his gaze with a furious intensity. "What the fuck, man!" she yelled, the anger evident in her voice.

Jonathan, seemingly taken aback by her outburst, tried to explain, "I was just going to ask if you were okay..."

Y/n huffed, her patience worn thin, and decisively pushed past him, ascending the stairs. "Never been better," she retorted sarcastically, leaving Jonathan behind.

Back on the mattress, Y/n's gaze shifted to the bottle of water placed on the ground. Her body, indifferent to the passage of time in captivity, left her uncertain of whether she was genuinely thirsty or if the sensation had been forgotten. Opting for caution, she grabbed the bottle and took a sip, immediately realizing she had been deprived of water for far too long. Chugging the entire bottle, she felt a measure of relief wash over her.

The realization that she had, just moments ago, shoved Jonathan out of the way emboldened Y/n. The absence of discipline after she had defiantly pushed past him fueled her growing conviction that there might be room for manipulation within the confines of her captivity. Her mind raced with possibilities, and she seized the opportunity to further test the limits of his proclaimed reluctance to inflict harm.

Opting for a subtle test, she tossed the empty bottle down the stairs, breaking the rhythmic pattern of Jonathan's work below. The scrapping of his chair made her breath stop. Anxiety gripped her as she heard the distinct sound of him ascending the stairs, her heart sinking with each step. However, the sight of a new bottle of water in his hands replaced her dread with a fleeting sense of relief.

Jonathan approached her, placing the bottle beside her without uttering a word. A sense of triumph welled within Y/n as he retreated, leaving her alone once again. The power dynamic, though skewed in his favor, showed signs of malleability.

Her smirk deepened as she contemplated how else she could navigate this precarious situation. The newfound knowledge that certain actions yielded unexpected outcomes spurred her imagination. Y/n, despite the dire circumstances, felt a glimmer of control in the face of her captor's unpredictable responses. As the wheels of her mind turned, she began to strategize, determined to exploit every opportunity to regain some semblance of agency in this nightmarish game.

The routine of tossing empty bottles down the stairs had evolved into a strange yet strangely effective communication method between Y/n and Jonathan. It became a silent pact, an unspoken agreement where she would throw a bottle, and he, in turn, would return with a fresh bottle of water without a single uttered word. The dynamic, though unconventional, provided Y/n with a sense of control, a small victory in the vast landscape of her captivity.

However, the game extended only to the water bottles. When it came to the food Jonathan brought, mostly simple take-out fare, she refrained from throwing it down the stairs. Despite her desire to maintain some semblance of control, she retained a sense of civility, not willing to degrade herself to the level of an animal in her attempts to navigate the situation. Instead, he’d just take the plate away when he gave her a new bottle.

On one particular day, feeling sluggish and unclean after what she assumed was a week without bathing, Y/n decided it was time to push the boundaries further. Throwing down another bottle, she waited for Jonathan's customary ascent up the stairs.

As he arrived with the expected bottle of water, he mused aloud, "I ought to get you a bin," revealing a hint of acknowledgment regarding their peculiar communication method.

Before he could retreat back downstairs, breaking the silent rhythm of their exchanges, Y/n summoned the courage to address him directly. "Jonathan..." Her voice, a rare sound in the confines of their strange relationship, brought him to a halt. He turned back to face her, silent anticipation written on his features.

"I need to shower," Y/n admitted, her vulnerability seeping through her words.

Jonathan, surprisingly accommodating, thought for a moment before responding, "Yeah, of course."

Her next revelation hung in the air, "I don't have any clothes."

"Sorry about that," he replied. "You go have your shower, and I'll bring you some clothes." With that, he headed down the stairs.

As she approached the bathroom, the subtle jingle of the bells on her feet caught her attention. The idea of showering with them on seemed uncomfortable, a painful reminder of past wounds. However, most of the injuries had healed by now, and she reasoned that it couldn't hurt too bad—just as long as she avoided tugging on anything sensitive. The promise of a shower, a rare luxury in her current state, became a momentary respite in the otherwise harrowing routine of her captivity.

The rhythmic sound of water hitting the shower floor enveloped Y/n as she stood beneath the refreshing spray. Stripping away the layers of captivity, she entered the shower, relishing the sensation of the water cascading down her tired body like a soothing rain. Glancing around, she spotted only a solitary bar of soap, resigning herself to the fact that her hair would have to wait for another day.

As the water ran down her, she couldn't help but contemplate her predicament. A sigh escaped her lips as she gazed up at the showerhead. The solitude of the shower became an unexpected confessional, and in a whispered admission to herself, she muttered, "...I might just fucking drown myself."

Yet, as the thought lingered, she quickly dismissed it. The logistics of such an act in a shower, coupled with the awareness that she wasn't suicidal, led her to shrug off the dark notion. Redirecting her focus, she began washing her body diligently, navigating around the bells with a careful touch. The leisurely pace became a momentary escape, a respite from the harsh reality that awaited her beyond the comforting spray.

When she eventually emerged from the shower, enveloped in the warmth of the towels, she wondered why Jonathan hadn’t knocked on the door yet, and as if summoned, the knock came. She found Jonathan holding a pile of clothes for her. "Sorry for taking a while," he offered.

She responded with silence. She accepted the clothes, bringing them into the bathroom. Drying herself off, she examined the clothes, confirming that they were indeed Jonathan's. The absence of underwear was a minor inconvenience, and she chose not to dwell on it.

Dressed in Jonathan's clothes, Y/n emerged from the bathroom, prompting him to turn his attention away from his desk. Standing up, he inquired, "The clothes are fine?"

She nodded awkwardly, a silent acknowledgment of the peculiar exchange. Jonathan then said, "I'll go get you some clothes tomorrow from your dorm back at the university when I head to work. You don't need underwear right now, do you?"

Y/n shook her head in response. Jonathan, seemingly satisfied with her reply, returned to his work without further conversation.

Making her way back upstairs, Y/n was met with a shock. The decrepit mattress she had grown accustomed to was now replaced with a fresh one, adorned with clean sheets and a duvet, the tiny blanket she slept with the past few days placed overtop. To her surprise, it was elevated on wooden pallets, forming a makeshift bed base. The unexpected upgrade left her momentarily speechless, and she peered underneath, confirming the presence of the improvised support.

In a strange turn of events, she now had a proper bed. The realization struck her, and she couldn't help but cast a glance over the railing at Jonathan. A sense of gratitude tugged at her, and for a fleeting moment, she felt the urge to express her thanks. However, the weight of her captivity, the confinement, and the uncertainty of her situation promptly extinguished that impulse.

Walking back to her new bed, the conflicting emotions within her surfaced once again. The gesture felt like a twisted attempt to add a touch of comfort to her captivity. Anger, frustration, and a deep-seated sense of helplessness resurfaced, and Y/n, unable to contain her emotions, allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. She sank onto the bed, repressed tears welling in her eyes, as the cruel reality of her situation pressed heavily upon her.

The next day brought an unusual moment of opportunity as Y/n heard the distinct sound of Jonathan leaving the warehouse. It was the first time she had heard him leave, and the realization struck her that he had taken an entire week off work just to remain within the confines of the warehouse, likely to keep an eye on her. The emptiness left in his absence stirred a flicker of hope within her—a chance, perhaps, to explore the possibility of escape.

Descending the stairs, she cast a hopeful glance at the main entrance, only to find it stubbornly locked. Frustration crept in, but she decided to leave the main entrance for a later attempt. Undeterred, she moved to the boarded-up door, her eyes narrowing at the bolted bars. Despite her doubts about her strength, she grasped at the bars, giving them an experimental tug. The cold metal resisted her efforts, but the determination within her fueled a futile attempt to dislodge the impediment. She knew it would be futile, but it was worth a shot.

Turning her attention back to the main door, she surveyed the room for any tools that might aid her escape. Unfortunately, the sparse surroundings offered little beyond medical equipment and scattered papers. A sigh escaped her lips as she considered her limited options. Deciding to try a more direct approach, she mustered her strength and rammed against the door, only to be met with searing pain. The movies had lied – doors were far more resilient than she had anticipated.

Wincing from the failed attempt, she quickly retreated back up the stairs, the jingling of her bells echoing a defeat that resonated throughout the desolate warehouse. The fleeting glimmer of hope had dimmed, leaving her once again in the stark reality of her captivity, where even the simplest act of escape proved to be an insurmountable challenge.

The return of Jonathan marked the end of a long and tedious stretch of hours for Y/n. The absence of any form of entertainment in the warehouse became painfully apparent when left alone. The monotony was only broken by the sound of Jonathan's return, a stark reminder of the silent emptiness that lingered in his absence.

Jonathan ascended the stairs, each step accompanied by the weight of boxes in his arms. Multiple trips followed until a stack of three boxes stood beside Y/n's newly provided bed.

"There's your clothes and other things I thought you might need," Jonathan stated.

Y/n, caught off guard, involuntarily responded, "Thanks—fuck!"

Her unintended expression of gratitude hung in the air, a contradiction to the lingering anger that still gripped her. She shot a glare at Jonathan, who chuckled lightly in response, before making his way back down the stairs. The automatic politeness clashed with the undercurrent of resentment that fueled her, leaving Y/n with a mix of conflicting emotions as she contemplated the contents of the boxes beside her.

Sorting through the boxes, the first contained an assortment of clothes, providing a semblance of normalcy amid the chaos of her captivity. The second box held toiletries—shampoo, conditioner, and a toothbrush, a practical acknowledgment of basic needs. However, it was the contents of the third box that stirred an unexpected wave of emotions within Y/n.

She hesitated to delve too deeply into the box, but her eyes were immediately drawn to a soft toy nestled among the items. As she laid eyes on the familiar stuffed creature, a gift from her parents, her heart skipped a beat. The floodgates of emotion opened, catching her off guard.

She gingerly plucked the soft toy from the box, holding it close to her chest as if reuniting with an old friend. The texture of the familiar fabric, the scent of nostalgia, and the sentimental value of the cherished possession enveloped her in a bittersweet embrace. Tears welled in her eyes, and her heart ached with a poignant mix of longing and comfort.

In that moment, the soft toy became a tangible link to a world beyond the confines of the warehouse. It held the essence of home, a symbol of the relationships and memories she held dear. As Y/n hugged the cherished possession, the emotional weight of her situation momentarily shifted, offering a fleeting respite from the harsh reality of captivity.

The next morning, Y/n's routine took an unexpected turn as her gaze fell upon a novel placed beside her water bottle. Picking it up, she read the synopsis on the back, a small but significant shift in her otherwise monotonous existence. A smile graced her lips as the realization dawned—she now had something to occupy her time, a welcome distraction from the dull routine that had consumed her days.

Curiosity piqued, she opened the book, and as she flipped the pages, a small piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Retrieving it, she found a note that read: 'There is a fridge downstairs with leftover takeaways and a microwave above it.'

Excitement bubbled within her as she hopped off the bed, the soft toy still cradled in her arms. Approaching the railing, she surveyed the scene below and saw exactly what the note had described. A fridge filled with possibilities and a microwave poised above it promised a break from the mundane.

Rushing back to her newfound haven, she settled onto the bed, toy still in hand, and delved into the world within the pages of the novel. The words transported her to another realm, offering a temporary escape from the harsh reality of her captivity. In that moment, the warehouse transformed into a cocoon of solace, where the power of literature became a beacon of hope in the midst of her confined existence.

The introduction of a new routine marked a subtle shift in the dynamics of the warehouse. As Jonathan resumed his work, every other day brought a fresh book to Y/n's bedside, a silent acknowledgment of a shared love for literature. She had adapted to the solitude, getting her own sustenance from the fridge and maintaining a self-sufficient existence within the confines of the warehouse.

However, the lingering silence between them spoke volumes. Neither was willing to break the unspoken barrier. Jonathan, obstinate in his desire for Y/n to initiate conversation, held back any attempts at communication. On the other hand, Y/n, fueled by a mixture of resentment and a desire to maintain her sense of independence, remained resolute in her silence. After all, Jonathan was the architect of her captivity.

The tension escalated as Jonathan made a deliberate move to bridge the gap. Upon returning from work, he ascended the stairs and found Y/n engrossed in her reading, the soft toy cradled in her arms. Unfazed by her apparent disinterest, he unfolded a chair and placed it beside her bed. Seating himself, arms crossed, he waited in a silent invitation for a conversation that seemed inevitable.

Y/n cast a brief glance in his direction before turning away, fixing her gaze on the book in hand. Hoping for a swift departure, she found herself disheartened as Jonathan remained steadfast in his resolve to break the wall of silence that had settled between them.

Reflecting on Jonathan's social interactions, Y/n wasn’t surprise that he had befriended one of his students. His awkwardness and apparent lack of social cues didn't exactly position him as a social butterfly. In fact, she found herself pondering how she, too, had become entangled in his peculiar friendship. As she turned the pages of the novel, her thoughts remained on the strangeness that was Jonathan Crane.

Jonathan, his face etched with a blend of regret and desperation, finally broached the unspoken barrier that loomed between them. "How can I ever get you to forgive me, Y/n..." he asked, his hands rubbing wearily across his face.

A fire still burned within Y/n's eyes as she continued to glare at him. "Well, you can start with taking off these fucking bells," she retorted, her tone dripping with defiance.

There was a glimmer of hope in Jonathan's eyes at the prospect of making amends. He stood up from the chair and hastened down the stairs, a sense of urgency in his movements. The clinking and shuffling sounds below suggested a hurried search for something. Moments later, he reappeared, rushing up the stairs with his arms filled with equipment.

Carefully placing the items down, he selected a syringe from the assortment. Y/n, ever watchful, instinctively pressed herself into the corner, creating a distance between them.

"It's just an anesthetic, don't worry," Jonathan reassured, his voice carrying a tinge of sincerity.

The air in the room grew heavier with Y/n's skepticism as she responded, "And I'm supposed to believe you?"

Jonathan, determined to proceed, cut to the chase. "Do you want the bells off or not?" he asked, a hint of urgency in his voice.

Y/n let out a resigned sigh before reluctantly extending her feet toward him. Jonathan, carefully holding one foot, positioned the needle in close proximity. "I will only hurt for a second," he reassured, his words offering a small semblance of comfort.

Bracing herself, Y/n turned her gaze away as Jonathan pressed the needle into her skin. A sharp sting coursed through her for a brief moment as the fluid infiltrated her system. The room hung in suspense as Jonathan withdrew the needle, leaving only the waiting game for the anaesthetic to take effect.

The numbness settled into Y/n's foot after a minute. Jonathan, wielding a surgical knife with clinical precision, cut into the skin, his focused expression revealing the gravity of the task at hand. The sight of him peeling back the skin and remove the bells sent a wave of nausea through Y/n. Witnessing the unsettling process, she averted her gaze, unable to bear the visceral reality unfolding before her.

As Jonathan delicately removed the bells, he skillfully stitched up the incision with a few practiced movements. He took care while bandaging her foot, relieving her of the discomfort she had while watching the entire ordeal. Y/n didn’t want to watch him deal with her other foot as she felt sick enough as is.

Her stomach churned with unease, and a sense of relief washed over her as Jonathan said, "Your feet will be numb for a while, so don't go walking around much. And you already know how your feet will feel when it wears off."

As Jonathan stood up, he handed a pill to Y/n, a silent offering to help possibly later pain or infection, she didn’t know and she didn’t ask. Accepting the pill, Y/n reached for the bottle of water beside her bed. However, her attempt at solace was abruptly halted when she watched Jonathan resettle himself in the chair beside her bed.

The warehouse seemed to amplify the growing tension between Y/n and Jonathan as the pill lingered in her hand, an unspoken bridge between relief and resentment. The weight of his gaze intensified her irritation, making the simple act of taking the pill an unexpected battleground.

"Take the pill, Y/n," Jonathan urged, his tone clearly indicating his impatience.

"I don't want to..." Y/n retorted, a rebellious spirit akin to that of a stroppy child.

Jonathan's patience wore thin, and a veiled threat slipped from his lips, "Do you want me to force it down your throat again?"

"I'm not your fucking cat," Y/n shot back, a mixture of defiance and begrudging compliance evident in her demeanor. Despite her resistance, she reluctantly conceded, swallowing the pill. Jonathan rolled his eyes at her behaviour.

"Anything else you would like me to do in the meantime?" Jonathan asked, his tone not hiding his exhaustion.

Y/n, seizing the opportunity to exercise her control, decided to push the boundaries. "I want a TV," she demanded, a request more driven by the desire to inconvenience him than any actual need for entertainment.

To her surprise, Jonathan readily agreed. "Yeah, I can do that. I'll bring one tomorrow," he said, a gesture of compliance that caught Y/n off guard.

Not one to back down, Y/n continued testing the limits. "And a couch," she added, pushing his buttons further, expecting a hint of resistance.

"If not tomorrow, I'll have one by Thursday," Jonathan assured, the easy acceptance marking a stark change from the expected power dynamic.

Y/n, realizing the depth of his desperation for her approval, found herself in uncharted territory, a moment of revelation that hinted at the complexity of their connection within the confines of the warehouse. The power play between captor and captive took an unexpected turn, leaving Y/n grappling with the realization that perhaps Jonathan's motivations were more nuanced than she had initially assumed.

"I, umm... I don't really need them," Y/n admitted, a sudden twinge of guilt clouding her defiance. While she knew Jonathan deserved the challenges she threw his way, a compassionate side of her couldn't help but surface.

"No, you need more. I'm sorry the conditions aren't ideal, so whatever you need, I'll get it," Jonathan replied earnestly. "Besides, I can just bring most things from my apartment."

The unexpected revelation piqued Y/n's curiosity. "So you do have an apartment?" she inquired.

"I do. I just don't go there often. I stay here most days. That's why I had the mattress before," Jonathan explained.

A question lingered in Y/n's mind, and she couldn't resist asking, "So where do you sleep now?" Considering she now occupied the mattress.

"I don't sleep much, but sometimes I just fall asleep at my desk," Jonathan admitted.

"Well, once you get the couch in, you'll have a nicer sleeping spot," Y/n remarked, brining lightheartedness into the conversation.

Jonathan's smile and laughter, though brief, hinted at a shared moment of glee amidst the unconventional circumstances that defined their interactions.

"I'll leave you be now," Jonathan declared, slapping his knees and rising from his seat before descending the stairs.

Y/n watched his departure before shifting her gaze downward to her feet. It felt strange to see them without the bells now, a tangible reminder of the symbolic chains that had bound her. Yet, the absence of the constant jingling provided an unexpected sense of relief. She could already envision the scar that would mark the place where the bells once clung, but the prospect didn't particularly bother her.

Beside her feet lay the four bells, now detached from her ankles. She reached for them, holding the shiny metal in her hands. Some of her blood still clung to the surface from Jonathan's removal. Y/n wiped it off with her finger, a silent acknowledgment of the visceral experience she had just undergone. Placing the bells down beside her bed, she returned her attention to her reading, immersing herself in the solace that the words on the pages provided—a temporary escape from the complex reality that lingered in the confines of the warehouse.

She was roused from her slumber the next morning by the unmistakable sounds of furniture being rearranged downstairs. Surprisingly, as she got up from the bed, her feet barely hurt—a revelation that added an unexpected layer of comfort. Peering over the railing, she observed Jonathan's determined efforts to make space for the couch she had casually requested the day before. The sight of him pushing and maneuvering the heavy furniture hinted at the challenges he must have faced in bringing it through the door.

Jonathan, undeterred by the apparent struggle, eventually succeeded in positioning the couch to his satisfaction. A brief exit and return revealed him carrying a small coffee table, placing it against the wall in front of the newly positioned couch.

"Good morning," Jonathan greeted, catching sight of Y/n as he continued his efforts.

"Hi," she responded quietly, still somewhat stunned by the unexpected display of consideration.

Her surprise deepened as Jonathan ventured outside again, returning with a relatively sized television. Y/n couldn't help but descend the stairs slowly, watching with wide eyes as he set up the cables behind the TV. The realization struck her—Jonathan had gone out of his way to fulfill her requests, even the dumbest requests. As he turned to see her standing behind him, a mix of gratitude and astonishment painted her expression. The dynamics between captor and captive seemed to shift once again, revealing nuances in their connection that neither had anticipated.

"I'm assuming you know how to work a TV?" Jonathan asked, handing her the remote.

Still in a state of shock, she accepted the remote slowly, her fingers wrapping around it. Pressing the power button, the television flickered to life, showcasing some random show from the nineties. Her gaze shifted from the screen to Jonathan, her eyes reflecting the astonishment she felt. In that moment, the man before her seemed more like the Jonathan she had befriended back at the university in his office.

"Uhh... I'll be out for the rest of the day. I have work and... other matters to handle," Jonathan explained, his demeanor awkward and shy.

Unable to contain herself, Y/n found her arms wrapping around Jonathan, the gesture of gratitude. Jonathan, caught off guard, remained motionless for a moment before reciprocating, his arms encircling her in a hesitant embrace. The room was filled with an unspoken understanding, the unexpected connection between the two evolving into a moment of vulnerability and shared comfort. The rapid beating of Jonathan's heart echoed the complexity of their relationship, leaving both of them suspended in a moment that defied the conventional boundaries of their circumstances.

Pulling back from the embrace, she studied Jonathan's face. The bright red hue on his cheeks betrayed his embarrassment, yet he attempted to play it off with a nervous adjustment of his glasses and increased fidgeting.

"I'll head off now," Jonathan announced, a subtle awkwardness lingering in the air.

Y/n nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze following him as he left the warehouse. Settling back onto the couch, she shifted her attention to the TV. The simple act of watching television provided a welcome diversion from the routine of reading, offering a momentary escape from the peculiar circumstances that defined their existence within the confines of the warehouse.

When Jonathan returned to the warehouse well after midnight, he found the TV still flickering, casting a soft glow across the room. Y/n, however, had succumbed to sleep on the couch. Jonathan couldn't help but chuckle at the sight—she was slouched on the couch, her head tilted to the side, she would undoubtedly wake up with a stiff neck.

Quietly making his way over, Jonathan gently called her name. Y/n stirred, her eyes slowly focusing on him. In his hand, he held a familiar takeout drink tray.

"I got you a smoothie," Jonathan said, offering her the beverage.

Y/n, rubbing her eyes, gratefully accepted the smoothie. The thoughtful gesture didn't go unnoticed. He had remembered their usual orders, a nostalgic echo of the routine they used to share. "Thank you, Jonathan," Y/n expressed her gratitude.

She took a sip of the smoothie, and Jonathan settled down on the opposite end of the couch, nursing his own coffee. Y/n couldn’t believe that he went out of his way in the dead of night to get the two of them drinks. Like they used to.

"Why are you so nice to me? Most kidnappers aren't as generous as you are," Y/n questioned, looking down at her drink, confusion evident in her eyes.

Jonathan dropped his hands, meeting her gaze with heavy eyes. "I don't want you to feel like you've been kidnapped. I know you technically have, but I'm only doing this because you know too much... and you're my friend. I just want to keep you safe," he explained, the sincerity in his voice piercing through the air.

"So why can't I leave at all?" Y/n pressed, seeking clarity on the boundaries that confined her.

"Because I know you won't come back to me," he admitted, his words heavy with a mixture of longing and fear, revealing a vulnerability that lay beneath the surface. The complexity of their relationship hung in the air, leaving them both to grapple with the intricacies of emotions that defied the conventional norms of captor and captive.

She was well aware of his feelings for her; he had already confessed. Every gesture, every act of kindness, was an unspoken testament to his affection. With each passing day, the evidence of his genuine care only grew stronger. Surprisingly, she found herself reciprocating feelings, not in the way he desired, but as a friend. In the confines of the warehouse, their evolving friendship became a source of solace, making the otherwise challenging situation somewhat bearable.

Y/n finished her drink, and Jonathan, being considerate, took her empty cup to the bin. "You should probably go to sleep," he suggested.

Nodding in agreement, Y/n slowly made her way towards the stairs. Before heading up, she glanced back at Jonathan. "Goodnight," she said.

Jonathan met her gaze, offering a small smile. "Goodnight, my dear," he replied.

With that, she headed to bed and found sleep easily, the sense of security and newfound companionship making the warehouse feel less like a prison and more like an unexpected haven. The nightly routine, once defined by isolation, had transformed into a shared experience that bridged the gap between the two.

Jonathan's gaze lingered on Y/n as she sat on the couch, engrossed in her book. A satisfied smile played on his lips, a silent acknowledgment of his decision to place the couch downstairs. Originally, he had contemplated situating it on the second floor where she slept, but the logistics of maneuvering it up the stairs alone proved daunting. However, a more significant reason was emerging – he relished her presence. Having her in close proximity brought a sense of comfort, and now, with her belongings downstairs, she had more reasons to be near him.

His plan had unintentionally transformed the warehouse into a shared space. The atmosphere had shifted from a mere place of confinement to a peculiar kind of coexistence. As Jonathan resumed his work, he found solace in the unspoken companionship that had developed between them.

Jonathan had never been one to crave the presence of another person. His life had been one of solitude and seclusion, an intentional choice rooted in past experiences that had made his interactions with people nothing but hell. His patience was short, and his temper quick, leading him to snap and belittle those around him.

His history was tainted by strained familial relationships, particularly with his grandmother, who had cast a shadow over potential family dynamics and other close connections. High school only exacerbated his disdain for people. Growing up, Jonathan had accepted the notion that he was destined for a life of loneliness, and surprisingly, he had been content with that prospect. Until Y/n had walked into his office.

Everything within him seemed to shift on the day she entered his life. His feelings, once reserved and guarded, underwent a transformation. The desire for her presence, her company, became a profound longing. Jonathan recognized the unhealthy nature of this longing, particularly given his profession as a psychologist, where he encountered individuals struggling with similar issues. Yet, he reasoned that he had engaged in far more damaging behaviors before. Y/n's presence had, unwittingly, redefined his understanding of connection and companionship.

Jonathan grappled with conflicting emotions. On one hand, he recognized the inherent wrongness of keeping Y/n locked up. He understood the ethical imperative of granting her freedom, allowing her to live her life unencumbered. Yet, desperation clawed at him, fueling the impulse to keep her close. The secrets she held about him, the vulnerabilities she could expose, played a significant role in this internal struggle.

More than that, Jonathan was tethered to her presence by a profound longing that surged through him. It wasn't easy to navigate this desire without her nearby, and the very idea of her leaving stirred anxiety within him. He yearned for her companionship, a connection that had become an integral part of his life.

Witnessing Y/n gradually acclimating to this peculiar new lifestyle brought a sense of relief to Jonathan. He knew it wasn't a sustainable solution, but for the moment, he embraced whatever semblance of normalcy he could find. The complexities of their relationship and the uncertainties of the future weighed heavily on him, but, for now, he would take solace in the fragile connection they shared.

Y/n lounged on the couch, flicking through channels as the television emitted a dull hum. Daytime TV proved to be a lackluster companion, offering little more than cheesy infomercials and forgettable reruns. The warehouse echoed with silence, emphasizing the monotony of her confinement. Y/n had been flipping through the channels for what felt like an hour, but nothing seemed to peak her interests.

With Jonathan away at work, Y/n felt an unusual sense of solitude. The newfound freedom to explore the warehouse was both a blessing and a curse. As her gaze wandered around the space, she pondered the mysteries hidden within its walls. The medical equipment, the remnants of Jonathan's research, and the memories of her time spent here intrigued her. She strolled over to his cluttered workbench, where an array of papers, vials, and scientific instruments were scattered. Initially, the documents detailing fear toxins didn't capture her interest; she wasn't keen on delving into the intricacies of Jonathan's fucked up, scientific pursuits.

Her curiosity, however, led her to the drawers beneath the bench. With a gentle pull, Y/n revealed a trove of surprises. The first drawer held a meticulous assortment of labeled vials, each containing distinct substances. She picked up one of the vials, labeled and dated with precision, recognizing the scent instantly. It was the same perfume she had often detected on Jonathan during their encounters.

Pausing to take in the familiar fragrance, she couldn't help but wonder if he had crafted it for a specific purpose. The adjacent papers provided some context, revealing various combinations of scents and their effects. Y/n noticed a sheet that stood out, titled 'Scents and Fragrances that Attract Women.' Intrigued, she perused the list, accompanied by Jonathan's handwritten notes, showcasing his dedication to understanding the nuances of cologne.

Y/n discovered a playful side of Jonathan. A sheet contained doodles and sketches of different fragrance bottles, each annotated with amusing comments. The revelation that Jonathan, the Scarecrow, had a detailed study on cologne preferences added an unexpected layer to his character, leaving Y/n both amused and perplexed by the complexity hidden beneath his fearsome exterior.

Beside the humorous list, there were various combinations of scents documented, showcasing his dedication to finding the perfect olfactory concoction. As she sifted through the papers, Y/n discovered more details about the specific fragrances he had explored, some even labeled with comments like "subtle and alluring" or "intense and captivating."

It became apparent that Jonathan had not only delved into the science of fear toxins but also applied a similar level of scrutiny to the world of fragrances. The revelation added a layer of complexity to the man she thought she knew, leaving Y/n intrigued by the unexpected facets of Jonathan Crane's character.

Y/n continued her exploration, stumbling upon another set of papers that caught her eye. As she read through the notes, her eyes widened in disbelief. "First test showed positive reactions; she became immediately distracted and clearly smelt the air." The revelation struck her like a lightning bolt. The date aligned perfectly with the second day she sought Jonathan's assistance at the office. It dawned on her—was he talking about her?

Examining the page closely, she couldn't help but smile at the small, endearing details. Little smiley faces and hearts were doodled in the corner, adding a touch of unexpected warmth to the some what stoic man. The contrast between the menacing Scarecrow and the man who took the time to create a cologne to attract her left Y/n in a state of pleasant surprise.

This newfound revelation sparked a mix of emotions within her—confusion, curiosity, and a hint of amusement. The complexity of Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, unfolded before her, revealing a person with unexpected intricacies beneath the mask of fear and intimidation.

As the clock ticked well past midnight, Y/n's concern grew with each passing moment. Restlessly, she lay on her bed, unable to find solace in sleep. The weight of uncertainty pressed upon her, and the silent echoes of the empty warehouse only heightened her unease. Her thoughts revolved around Jonathan's prolonged absence, and the shadows played tricks on her restless mind.

Suddenly, a resounding slam reverberated through the warehouse, jolting her from her half-hearted attempts at rest. With a surge of adrenaline, Y/n sprang to her feet and hurried to the balcony, her eyes scanning the dimly lit space below.

Y/n observed Jonathan from the second floor balcony, his weary footsteps echoing through the warehouse. The day hadn't gone as planned for him, and it showed. He limped toward his medical table, the weariness etched across his face. As he pulled off his mask and blazer, revealing the toll his endeavors had taken, Y/n couldn't help but be taken aback.

His body bore the evidence of brutal encounters—bloody welts and massive bruises painted a vivid picture of the hardships he endured. This was the same man who confidently walked into classrooms, teaching psychology to unsuspecting students. The Scarecrow's true form was far removed from the academic facade she had known.

As he unbuttoned his shirt, the extent of the damage became even more apparent. Old scars crisscrossed his body, testaments to the harsh realities of life as the Scarecrow. The scratches on his cheek, where a knife had cut through his mask, added a layer of vulnerability to the fearsome figure Y/n had grown accustomed to.

Witnessing Jonathan's physical state, Y/n grappled with conflicting emotions. The man before her was not just a villain; he was someone battered and scarred by the very terror he unleashed upon others. The revelation added a nuanced layer to her understanding of the enigmatic Scarecrow.

Y/n swiftly retreated to the mattress, her heart pounding as she tried to maintain the facade of peaceful slumber. The metal stairs announced Jonathan's movement, the distinct sounds of his grunts and creaking knees accompanying his movements. She sensed his presence drawing closer, and the weight of his gaze seemed to linger on her. As he reached the second floor, he paused, and she could only imagine him standing there, observing her.

Jonathan knelt beside her, his efforts accompanied by more audible sounds of discomfort. Despite her closed eyes, Y/n was acutely aware of the delicate balance between their strained companionship and the veiled tension that surrounded them.

The gentle touch of Jonathan's hand through her hair sent a shiver down Y/n's spine. His unexpected tenderness stirred conflicting emotions within her, creating a paradox between the comfort of the gesture and the unsettling reality of their situation. She lay there, eyes closed, pretending to sleep, as he continued his soft caress.

His actions were both perplexing and strangely intimate. The sensation of his fingers gliding through her hair felt genuine. The tenderness in that moment left her questioning the complexities of the man she thought she had figured out.

When he pressed a tender kiss on her head, Y/n's heart raced. It wasn't the fear that gripped her; it was a mixture of confusion, curiosity, and a strange acknowledgment of his unexpected vulnerability. As he left her side and descended the stairs, she opened her eyes.

Looking down at the floor beside her, Y/n noticed yet another addition to Jonathan's extensive collection. Evidently, this was his nightly routine – one that left her feeling grateful. Out of curiosity, she carefully picked up the book and began flipping through its pages, hoping to gain some insight into the man behind the mask.

Feeling bold, Y/n rose from her bed and descended the staircase, her eyes landing upon Jonathan slumped on the couch. For a brief moment, they locked gazes – a mutual understanding passed between them, igniting a spark of curiosity within her. Without saying a word, Y/n extended her hand, beckoning him to follow her upstairs. Surprised yet mesmerized, Jonathan took hold of her hand, allowing her to lead by her.

Silently, Y/n led Jonathan upstairs, guiding him towards the sanctuary of her bed. Once settled, she climbed onto the mattress beside him, their bodies mere inches apart. Time seemed to stand still as they stared into each other's eyes, yearning for connection amidst chaos.

“What are you doing, my Dea—" Jonathan was cut off.

“Do you need some pain relief?” Y/n asked, her gaze steady and awkward yet holding a peculiar warmth.

Jonathan looked at her for a moment, their eyes meeting in a silent exchange. Her question hung in the air, a simple offering wrapped in genuine concern.

“No... I already had some, my Dear,” Jonathan replied, his smile revealing a hint of gratitude beneath the layers of exhaustion.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her eyes reflecting concern. "You don't have to pretend with me, Jonathan," she said softly. "I can see how much pain you're in."

Jonathan's smile faded, replaced by a vulnerability that mirrored the weariness in his eyes. The acknowledgment of his pain seemed to catch him off guard, a stark departure from the usual interaction between them.

"I appreciate the concern, Y/n," Jonathan admitted, his gaze dropping to the scars that adorned his body. "But there's not much you can do about it."

Y/n, despite the unconventional circumstances, felt a strange sense of empathy for him. She reached out tentatively, her hand resting on his arm. The touch was subtle but carried a weight of understanding. Jonathan, in response, seemed to relax a fraction.

"Maybe there isn't much I can do," Y/n began, "but that doesn't mean I can't try to make you more comfortable."

She shuffled a bit on the bed, reaching for the bottle of water on the floor. Without waiting for a response, she handed it to him. Jonathan accepted it, their eyes locking for a moment, an unspoken acknowledgment passing between them. The warehouse, once a fortress of fear, now held an unexpected camaraderie.

Just as Jonathan tried to take a sip, a low groan of pain escaped his lips.

"Maybe you should let me take a look at those injuries," Y/n suggested, her voice softer than usual.

Jonathan hesitated for a moment, his guarded expression softening as he nodded in agreement. She carefully examined the wounds, her touch gentle yet deliberate. The silence enveloped them, broken only by the occasional creaking of the old warehouse. Y/n, engrossed in her task, felt a mix of emotions. It was surreal—here she was, tending to the very person who had held her captive.

Y/n delicately traced the contours of the bruise on his side, her fingers gliding down his ribs. She noticed the shiver that ran through him, and he instinctively held his breath. It was a touch so intimate, Jonathan had never experienced before.

As she worked, a thought crossed her mind. "Why do you do this to yourself, Jonathan?" she asked quietly, almost to herself. The question hung in the air, seeking an answer that neither of them seemed ready to give.

Y/n sighed, realizing Jonathan wouldn't share the details. She decided to drop the subject, acknowledging that some things were best left unsaid. The room fell into a quiet understanding, punctuated only by the distant hum of the refrigerator and the creaks of the warehouse settling.

“Do you have some kind of soothing cream or something?” Y/n asked.

He nodded slightly, "I should have some in my second drawer on the right."

Y/n swiftly made her way down the stairs, her steps echoing in the dimly lit warehouse. She reached the workbench and located the specified drawer. Pulling it open, she found a small jar of homemade cream. It was clear that Jonathan had crafted it himself.

With the jar in hand, she rushed back up the stairs once more, her heart pounding with a mixture of uncertainty and curiosity. Returning to the bed, she opened the jar, revealing a subtle, soothing aroma. The cream had a velvety texture, and she dipped her fingers into it before gently applying it to the large bruise on Jonathan's side. The cool touch seemed to bring a momentary relief to the tension in his muscles.

She watched him visibly relax as she spread the soothing gel on his side. The cream worked its magic, casting a subtle glow on his bruised skin. As she finished applying it, she took a step back to assess her handiwork. The bruise still painted a vivid picture of pain, but there was a noticeable difference. The cream had lent a certain tenderness to the harsh, angry colors.

“Are there anymore?” Y/n asked.

Jonathan lifted his arm above his head, revealing the bruise on the underside of his bicep. Without hesitation, she grabbed more gel and gently spread it on the affected area.

She couldn't ignore the vulnerability she saw in Jonathan's eyes, a stark contrast to the menacing figure she had initially perceived him to be. His pain was evident, not just in the physical bruises but also in the weariness that clung to him.

"Does this help?" she asked, her tone softer than before.

Jonathan didn't respond immediately; instead, he merely closed his eyes, seemingly absorbing the relief the gel provided. After a moment, he let out a subtle sigh. "Yes, it helps. Thank you."

Y/n nodded, her fingers tracing the edges of the bruise with delicate care. She couldn't deny the strange intimacy of the situation, a moment shared between captor and captive that transcended their roles.

"I never expected you to be so... hurt," she admitted, breaking the silence that lingered in the room.

Jonathan opened his eyes, meeting her gaze with a mixture of emotions. "You weren't supposed to see this side of me."

As she continued to tend to his injuries, a silent understanding settled between them. After applying the gel to most of his bruises, Y/n set the container down and laid back on the bed.

"We should probably get some sleep, especially you," Y/n suggested.

"...Thank you, my Dear," Jonathan responded, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Y/n offered a gentle smile. "Don't mention it." The weight of their unspoken connection hung in the air, a fragile bond that transcended the peculiar circumstances that had brought them together. With that, they allowed the quiet of the warehouse to envelop them as they sought refuge in the realm of sleep.

Y/n hadn't anticipated waking up to find Jonathan lying beside her. As she turned to face him, she saw him curled up, knees drawn close to his chest in a vulnerable fetal position. She couldn't help but find him unexpectedly endearing, his usual imposing presence replaced by an unexpected fragility.

Reluctant to disturb his slumber, Y/n carefully slid out of the bed and descended the stairs. There, she spotted Jonathan's burlap mask—the very one he wore as Scarecrow during their unsettling encounters. The mask held traces of his encounters, notably the slash across the cheek where he had been cut.

Holding the material delicately, Y/n searched for a needle and thread which she found tucked away in one of his drawers. She retrieved the tools and settled on the couch, turning on the TV with lowered volume to provide a subtle background noise.

With meticulous care, Y/n began the task of stitching up the two slashes on the mask, skillfully mending it in a way that made the cuts imperceptible. As she worked, her mind swirled with thoughts about the man whose vulnerability she now witnessed.

She hadn't heard Jonathan approach, his movements muffled despite his subtle grunts, until his presence loomed above her. Startled, she turned to meet his gaze.

"Good morning. How are you feeling today?" Y/n inquired, genuine concern etched on her face.

"Better. A real bed makes all the difference," Jonathan replied, acknowledging the upgrade in his sleeping arrangements.

Y/n chuckled before presenting his burlap mask. "I stitched up your mask."

Jonathan, taken aback by the unexpected gesture, managed a quiet, appreciative response. "Thank you." It was a small act of kindness, a rarity in his world of calculated motives and hidden agendas, and it left him momentarily stunned.

He settled into the seat beside her on the couch, an air of distress lingering on his features, but not the kind associated with physical pain—something else. Concerned, Y/n asked, "Is everything alright, Jonathan?"

“Your family called the university... they're worried,” Jonathan confessed, his gaze avoiding hers.

Her stomach sank, realization hitting her like a ton of bricks. She had completely forgotten about her family's feelings and the fact that she hadn't spoken to them in over a month.

“U-umm... is there any way you can tell them I’m okay?” Y/n's emotions surfaced, evident in her voice and expression.

“I’ve sent them emails, saying you attend my classes and that you’re okay, but you can imagine how much that helped,” Jonathan said, his words carrying a weight of stress.

Her lip quivered as she bit it, grappling with the emotions bubbling to the surface. Y/n didn’t want her family to worry; they had been against her going to Gotham in the first place. The lack of communication likely intensified their concerns.

Jonathan sensed her internal struggle and suggested, “Would you like to call them?”

Y/n's eyes widened in disbelief. She was supposed to be kidnapped, and here he was, unexpectedly offering to let her call her family. “Really?”

Jonathan took a moment to consider before nodding. “As long as you don’t mention this... situation.”

Y/n eagerly nodded. “Yes, yes. I promise.”

Jonathan rose from his seat, a noticeable limp in his step, making his way to his desk where he likely left his burner phone the day before. As he approached, Y/n stood, and he handed her the phone.

His intense gaze lingered on her as she quickly dialed her dad's number. Holding the phone to her ear, she anxiously listened to it ring.

“Hello?” the voice on the other end of the line asked.

Y/n felt a surge of hope and relief. “Dad?”

“Fucking hell! Where the fuck have you been?!” Her dad's voice boomed through the phone.

“I'm so sorry, Dad,” Y/n replied, a mix of guilt and relief coursing through her.

Jonathan observed her as she spoke, witnessing her gradual calmness and the visible release of stress from her shoulders.

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?” her dad demanded.

“U-umm, my damn phone went to shit a bit ago, and I haven’t had the money to buy a new one. I should have said something. I'm sorry, Dad,” Y/n fabricated a lie on the spot, and a sense of relief washed over Jonathan.

“Fucking hell... well, you better go call your mum; she’s freaking out too,” her dad said, his tone slightly calmer.

“Okay, I’ll call her right after,” Y/n promised.

“Well… thanks for calling... finally,” her dad added a snarky comment, causing her to chuckle a little.

“I’ll try to keep in touch more, sorry, Dad,” Y/n said.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“I’ll call Mum now. Bye-bye, Dad. Love you. See you later. Love you. Bye,” Y/n said in a flurry.

“Yep, love you too. Bye,” he replied.

Y/n ended the call.

Jonathan chuckled, "Nice little goodbye," he remarked about how she ended the call.

Y/n smiled, "That’s how I say bye to my family... been doing it for years, just a habit, I guess."

“Your mum wasn’t there?” Jonathan asked.

“Nah, my parents are split. May I call her too?” Y/n asked.

Jonathan nodded, and she dialed her mum’s number, waiting patiently while it rang.

“Hello, Karen speaking?” her mum answered.

“Mum, it’s me,” Y/n said, feeling a lot more relaxed after talking to her dad.

“Fucking heck, Y/n! Why haven’t you been answering!” her mother exclaimed, quite similar to her dad's reaction. Jonathan couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m sorry, Mum. I’ve just talked to Dad. My bloody phone got messed up ages ago, and I haven’t been able to replace it. I’m sorry,” Y/n explained.

Her mother sighed on the other end. “Fuck, thought you were bloody dead,” her mum said, and she chuckled a little.

“I know, I’m sorry, Mum. I have to go now though. I will call you later, okay?” Y/n said.

“You better darn well. My baby, call me!” Her mum insisted.

“Okay, bye-bye, Mummy. Love you, bye-bye, see you later, bye,” Y/n said before hanging up.

“Well... your parents were quite...” Jonathan tried to think of a word.

“Aggressive bunch, they are.” Y/n smiled and laughed.

Jonathan chuckled with her. It was a rare sight as of late—Y/n being genuinely happy. She set the phone down on the couch and practically jumped into his arms. He was taken aback for a moment but instinctively held her tightly.

“Thank you so much, Jonathan. You don’t know how much this really means to me...” Y/n said, her words filled with gratitude, and she kissed him on the cheek.

Jonathan felt his face heat up, a warmth spreading from the spot where her lips had touched. Y/n didn’t seem to realize the impact of her gesture, but for Jonathan, it was a moment he couldn’t easily forget.

As Y/n held him, the pain from his injuries seemed to fade into the background. In that moment, the touch of another person, especially someone like Y/n, made Jonathan feel a warmth he had long forgotten. Despite the injuries and the struggles, he couldn't bring himself to let go. It felt like an anchor in the chaos of his life.

For a while, they stayed like that, a silent understanding passing between them. The atmosphere was both fragile and comforting, and Jonathan found himself appreciating the rare companionship he had stumbled upon.

Y/n settled back onto the couch, her enthusiasm evident. "So, I'm assuming you got a couple of days off work? Can't go in looking like that," she remarked with a smirk.

Jonathan, still a little stunned, nodded as he took a seat. "I'll give my body a rest for the day, then go in tomorrow," he replied.

Y/n's smile widened. "Well! I was thinking... we could play some card games. I saw a pack in one of the boxes you got me," she suggested.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, his voice carrying a hint of judgment, "You want to play card games?"

Y/n looked down, a mix of embarrassment and disappointment crossing her face. "We don't have to... I'm sorry."

Jonathan sighed. "Go get your cards."

Y/n lit up, her disappointment turning into excitement, and she rushed up the stairs to grab the cards. Y/n returned with the pack of cards, excitement evident in her eyes. She spread them out on the coffee table and motioned for Jonathan to join her. He hesitated for a moment before lowering himself onto the couch, sitting across from her.

As they played, the atmosphere shifted from awkward to surprisingly comfortable. Y/n's laughter echoed in the warehouse, and even Jonathan found himself smiling at her infectious joy. The card game became a welcomed distraction, a break from the unusual and challenging routine of their days.

As the game progressed, Jonathan couldn't help but appreciate the simplicity of the moment, something he had almost forgotten amidst the chaos of his life. The playful banter and shared laughter made the time pass swiftly, and for once, the warehouse felt less like a prison and more like a peculiar refuge.

In the midst of the card game, Y/n glanced at Jonathan, a genuine smile on her face. "See? It's not that bad, right?" she said, her eyes searching for a hint of agreement in his gaze.

Before Jonathan could respond, a knock echoed through the warehouse, causing both of them to freeze.

"Go to your bed," Jonathan demanded, his eyes fixed on the door.

Y/n swiftly rose from the floor and sprinted up the stairs. Peering over the balcony from the second floor, she observed Jonathan grabbing a canister of his toxin before approaching the door cautiously.

Jonathan opened the door a crack and peered through, "Fucking hell, Nigma," he muttered, his guard dropping.

Edward pushed the door open and strolled in. "Good to see you haven't moved your safe house," he remarked.

"I see you're out of Arkham. Hope you haven't come here for revenge," Jonathan said.

"No, no, I had my fun with you already," Edward replied.

He sauntered over to the couch, picked up the newspaper, and casually flipped open the crossword puzzle. As he kicked his legs up on the table, his eyes fell on the laid-out cards.

"Uh, I see you brought her back to your hideout," the Riddler commented.

Y/n took a sharp breath and hastily hid behind the balcony wall.

"Leave her alone, Nigma," Jonathan warned, heading toward his work station.

“Don’t worry your little head, Crow-boy. I have no intentions of hurting her,” Nigma said with a sinister smirk.

“Why are you here?” Jonathan asked, growing impatient.

Edward filled in the words on his puzzel, seemingly unbothered by the atmosphere. "Just thought I'd check in, see how you've been," he replied cryptically. "Word on the street is that the Scarecrow is going soft. It seems you may have some enemies that would benefit from such information."

Jonathan's eyes narrowed. "I'm not interested in your gossip, Nigma. Why are you really here?"

Edward sighed dramatically. "Fine, fine. I need a favor. A little collaboration, if you will."

"A collaboration?" Jonathan scoffed. "Why on earth would I help you?"

Edward leaned back, a sly grin on his face. "Because, dear Scarecrow, this involves our mutual friend, the Batman."

Y/n's curiosity heightened, and she quietly edged closer to the balcony railing, trying to catch every word of their conversation.

“My identity remains unknown, so the Batman's antics don't effect me much. I prefer to stay under his radar and focus on my own experiments. What do you offer in return for my help?" Jonathan asked.

Edward leaned back, a cunning grin on his face. "With your little secret out, you might find yourself in need of protection. I can offer that, among other things."

Jonathan dismissed the notion with a scoff. "I don't need your protection."

Edward, however, persisted, his eyes flickering towards the hidden Y/n. "Maybe you don't, but she does."

"..Who knows?" Jonathan mused.

"Even though I have two wings, I'm a bird that cannot fly. I often like to swim, and on ice is where I dry," The Riddler cryptically remarked.

The reference was not lost on Jonathan. "So what? I've never had issues with him," he replied.

"Maybe not, but you've had many with his new partner..." Edward smirked, his tone laden with implication.

Jonathan sighed, realizing that the Riddler was determined to make things complicated. "And who might that be?"

Edward continued his enigmatic banter, saying, “I’m something made of metal, although I am not a bell. I am something that is round, you throw in a wishing well.”

Jonathan couldn't help but roll his eyes. “He has no right to be angry; he was the one who double-crossed me,” he retorted.

Y/n chuckled softly, appreciating the unintentional pun in Jonathan's response.

“Well, either way, you need me. I’ll be back in a couple of days,” Edward declared, rising from the couch.

“Farewell, Crane. So long, Doll,” Edward added as he walked toward the door, prompting Y/n to stand from her hiding spot behind the balcony and wave him goodbye.

Y/n made her way back downstairs, eager to continue their card game, only for Jonathan to stride toward the door. "Wait, where are you going?" she asked, concern etching her voice.

"I have to go out for a bit," Jonathan replied.

Y/n quickly caught up to him, grasping his arm to stop him. "But you're hurt! And you're always out! A-and what if the Riddler's right? What if someone comes to hurt me?" Her desperation was evident in her rapid rambling.

Jonathan looked back at her, attempting to reason, "I'm doing this for your benefit."

"But I don't want you to leave me, I'm lonely here," Y/n admitted, her vulnerability laid bare.

"I can get you a cat if you'd like," Jonathan suggested, attempting to lighten the mood.

"But I want you!" Y/n insisted. "Please! I love you!" Y/n pleaded desperately, willing to say anything to keep him there.

Jonathan sighed, his gaze fixed on her. "Don't say that. I don't want you to lie to me just for me to stay," he said.

"But...I do care about you. You're my friend," Y/n insisted, genuine emotion in her words.

Jonathan looked away, deep in thought. "I'll stay with you until you go to sleep, and I'll come back in the morning," he finally agreed.

Her face lit up with a smile, and she eagerly pulled him back to the table, ready to continue their card game.

True to his word, Jonathan stayed with her for the remainder of the day. Y/n had never felt more content. When she eventually dozed off on the couch, Jonathan gently carried her to bed. Before leaving for the night, he planted a soft kiss on her forehead, a gesture that lingered in her dreams.

Several weeks had passed since the unexpected visit from the Riddler to Jonathan's hideout. During this time, Jonathan had altered his routine, dedicating more time to Y/n when he was at home. Y/n appreciated this change, and she noticed that he had also granted her more freedom, allowing her to contact her family whenever she pleased. Surprisingly, she hadn't made any attempts to call for help, a fact that pleased Jonathan.

Y/n had always found Jonathan attractive, even when he was her professor. In these recent weeks, she had the opportunity to appreciate him even more. Up close, he was undeniably captivating, and she grew to love his personality, which was no longer hidden behind the professional facade.

She had started inviting him to sleep in the bed with her. After the first night in which she dragged his injured body to bed, she found reasons for him to join her, making excuses to have him in bed beside her. Whether it was engaging in late-night conversations or persuading him to read to her, she wanted him close. She felt guilty about him always sleeping on the couch, so now she made sure he shared the bed with her, providing a sense of comfort for both of them.

Y/n's developing crush on Jonathan wasn’t hard to spot, at least she thought so. She found herself captivated by his presence and the more relaxed atmosphere that had settled between them. It wasn't just admiration for his looks, but an appreciation for the person he was beneath the intimidating exterior.

One evening, as they sat on the couch watching a movie, Y/n couldn't help but inch a little closer. She glanced at Jonathan, wondering if he noticed the subtle shift in dynamics. The air seemed charged with unspoken emotions, and Y/n's heart fluttered as she realized the line between friendship and something more was beginning to blur.

Jonathan perceived Y/n's sudden clinginess as genuine friendliness. He appreciated her company, it was a rare and unexpected connection, given his reclusive nature and the awkwards circumstances. Unaware of the subtle shifts in Y/n's emotions, he valued her presence as a comforting and genuine friendship, even if he desired more.

Y/n laid on her bed, engrossed in her book, anticipating Jonathan's return. The serenity was abruptly shattered by the rattling of the warehouse door. A surge of anxiety coursed through her veins. Puzzled, she questioned why Jonathan, who had the keys, would resort to such fumbling with the door. The disquiet intensified as frustrated yells echoed from beyond.

The situation escalated when forceful bangs reverberated, as if an unknown force sought to pry the door open. However, the reinforced fortifications, courtesy of Jonathan and Edward, stood resilient against the onslaught. The perplexing events unfolded, leaving Y/n on edge, contemplating the identity of the uninvited visitor.

Y/n's trembling hands reached for the budget phone Jonathan had provided her. She anxiously dialed his number, praying for a swift response. "Pick up, Jonathan, please," she whispered to herself.

"Y/n?" Jonathan's voice finally came through.

"Jonathan, I think someone's trying to break in," Y/n whispered urgently.

She could discern the sounds of hurried activity on Jonathan's end of the line. "You need to listen to me. I want you to go to my desk and feel underneath the second drawer for a key."

Y/n rushed down the stairs and followed Jonathan's instructions. She felt around the bottom of the drawer and found a key taped to the underside. "I've got it," Y/n said, her voice trembling with anxiety.

"Go to the bathroom, open the locked cabinet, move everything out of the way, there should be a nail, pull it up, and there is a hole. Get in the hole and stay there," Jonathan instructed urgently.

Y/n hurried to the bathroom, ignoring the persistent banging on the door. Unlocking the bathroom cabinet, she peered inside. The cardboard was filled with soaps and other bathroom clutter. She quickly moved everything to the adjacent cabinet, making it appear less suspicious than if it were scattered across the floor.

Just as he described, there was a nail. Y/n pulled it up, revealing a hole big enough for her to sit in comfortably. She crawled into the cabinet and closed the door, hesitating to sit down as the fear of claustrophobia began to creep up on her. She remained standing, caught between the safety of the hole and the reality of the cabinet.

“I-I'm in the hole," Y/n said, her voice trembling with anxiety.

"Stay there, I'm on my way. Put the phone on speaker; I want to hear everything. But keep quiet," Jonathan instructed, his voice calm but firm.

Y/n carefully put the phone on speaker, clutching it tightly as she listened to the ominous sounds of the intruder trying to force their way into the warehouse. The tension in the air was palpable, and Y/n couldn't shake the fear that gripped her.

"Inside the hole, you can pull the nail down, so it appears normal. If you hear someone getting close, that nail has to be down," Jonathan instructed, his voice carrying a sense of urgency.

Y/n nodded, even though he couldn't see her, and carefully pulled the nail back down. The idea of someone being so close was unsettling, and the weight of the situation pressed on her. She strained to hear any movement outside the bathroom, her senses heightened in the tense silence.

The sound of the door being forced open sent a shiver down her spine, stealing her breath away. Crouching down in the confined space, she closed the lid of the hole, her hands trembling. A sense of numbness enveloped her as the reality of the situation sank in. Though she knew Jonathan was still on the line, she had never felt so alone.

The intruders made their way into the warehouse, creating a racket of noise as they tossed items around the room. Y/n strained to hear their voices or catch any hint of their intentions, her anxiety intensifying with each passing moment.

Y/n could hear muffled voices and the thud of footsteps echoing through the warehouse. There was no light in the small space, leaving her in complete darkness. Every sound outside intensified her fear, making her more aware of her vulnerability in that cramped hiding spot.

The intruders' voices grew louder, but their words remained indistinct. Y/n strained to understand their motives, her mind racing with the possibilities of who they might be and why they were there. The uncertainty weighed heavily on her, intensifying the claustrophobia of the hidden space.

As the minutes passed like hours, Y/n's senses heightened. She could feel the tension in the air, her breaths becoming shallower. The sounds of the intruders searching the warehouse became more methodical, as if they were getting closer to her hiding spot. Every creak and shuffle outside amplified her anxiety.

Y/n heard the bathroom door swing open, and her body froze in place. The slightest movement could betray her presence. She trembled, her breaths syncing with the rhythm of her fear. While the likelihood of being discovered seemed remote, the possibility lingered..

Unexpectedly, the atmosphere outside the hiding spot erupted with terrified screams. "Get it off me!" someone shouted in agony. Y/n's heart pounded as the cacophony of panic unfolded around her. It dawned on her—Jonathan had devised a defense mechanism, likely dispersing fear gas to deter the intruders.

A mix of relief and dread filled her. The fear gas was a double-edged sword; it protected her but also induced intense anxiety in those outside the hole. Y/n instinctively covered her nose, mindful of the invisible tendrils of the gas that might seep into her hiding place. The muffled cries and chaos persisted, a testament to the effectiveness of Jonathan's unconventional security measures.

The screams outside the hole intensified, echoing through the warehouse. Y/n could hear the desperate cries for relief from the invisible grip of fear. The muffled chaos hinted at the effectiveness of Jonathan's defense mechanism — the fear gas.

Huddled in the cramped space, Y/n realized the gravity of the situation. Jonathan had strategically prepared for such a threat, deploying a countermeasure to incapacitate anyone who posed a danger. The fear gas, notorious for inducing hallucinations and terror, had effectively turned the tables.

As she covered her nose, Y/n couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of relief and anxiety. The screams continued, and she could only imagine the surreal scenes unfolding just beyond her concealed refuge. The unsettling knowledge that the gas was both a safeguard and a reminder of Jonathan's darker capabilities lingered in her mind.

Through the phone, Jonathan's voice reassured her, "It's okay, Y/n. They won't harm you. Stay in the hole until I tell you it's safe."

The minutes stretched as Y/n waited anxiously, her senses heightened by the confined space and the lingering scent of the fear gas. The aftermath echoed through the warehouse as the intruders succumbed to the fear gas, collapsing in a collective unconsciousness. The once chaotic atmosphere now transitioned into an eerie stillness, broken only by the measured steps of someone approaching the bathroom. Y/n's senses heightened, detecting a calm and deliberate presence nearing her hiding place.

The cabinet door swung open, and a knock resonated from above. "Y/n, it's me. You're safe," it was Jonathan, his familiar voice cutting through the residual tension. Y/n exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and pushed the cabinet lid open.

Greeted by Jonathan in his Scarecrow mask, Y/n wasted no time. She pulled him into a tight embrace, her racing heartbeat finally slowing as she clung to him. Panting, tears welled in her eyes, a mixture of relief and lingering fear finding an outlet.

Jonathan reciprocated the hug, pulling her out of the cramped hiding spot. He placed a gas mask over her face, ensuring she wouldn't inhale any lingering fear gas. Despite the lingering tension in the air, the embrace provided a momentary sanctuary, a shared understanding of the vulnerability they had just faced together.

"We have to go; it's not safe here for a while," Jonathan declared, urging her to stand.

"W-where?" Y/n inquired, uncertainty lacing her voice.

"Nigma's finding a place. I'm taking you to my old apartment," Jonathan explained as he guided her out of the bathroom. They made their way to her bedroom, ascending the stairs amid the scattered and unconscious intruders. The once orderly space now lay in chaos.

"Bring what you need for tonight, we'll grab the rest later," Jonathan instructed, a sense of urgency in his voice.

Y/n gathered her essentials - a pillow and her stuffed toy. As she waited by the stairs, Jonathan navigated through the disarray, picking up her current book, which had been tossed around in the commotion.

He led her out of the building, rushing through the chaos, and they reached his car. Jonathan removed his mask before driving away. It was Y/n's first glimpse outside of the warehouse, revealing a container storage area with various warehouses. Beyond the containers, the vast expanse of the sea unfolded before them.

She couldn't fathom the fact that she was leaving. Surprisingly, she found herself reluctant to part with the warehouse, but more significantly, with Jonathan. Despite growing attached to the peculiar space, she was strangely content leaving it behind, especially since Jonathan was accompanying her.

As they drove through the Narrows, they eventually arrived at an apartment complex. To her surprise, it didn't mirror the bad state of the rest of the Narrows, instead, it appeared relatively normal. Jonathan swiftly went to her side of the car, opening the door and assisting her out.

He guided her inside the building, avoiding the gaze of the occasional passerby. Navigating through the hallways, he led her to his apartment. Upon opening the door, the interior seemed scarcely lived in, giving off an air of minimalism. She could clearly see where his couch used to be and the tv that he moved to his hideout.

"When were you here last?" Y/n inquired, taking notice of the visible dust settling in the room.

"A couple of weeks ago," Jonathan replied.

Jonathan hesitated for a moment, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of having someone in his personal space. Nevertheless, he decided to let her be there because there was no where else he could keep her safe. He took her to what seemed to be his bedroom, also with the noticeable layer of dust laying across everything.

As Y/n placed her pillow on the bed and climbed on with her toy, Jonathan followed suit, pulling back the covers and helping her get tucked in. Just as he was about to move away, Y/n clung to his hand, “Where are ou going?”

"You don’t need to worry, Y/n. I’m not going to leave you, not tonight," he reassured her as he walked to the other side of the bed, joining her under the covers.

Y/n moved closer to him as he settled into the bed, laying her head on his side. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her tightly.

"Go to sleep, Y/n," Jonathan whispered.

Y/n closed her eyes, holding both her toy and Jonathan tightly. The rhythmic sound of their combined breaths created a soothing melody, gradually lulling her into a peaceful slumber.

Waking up in this unfamiliar environment felt peculiar for Y/n. The cacophony of the Narrows served as her alarm clock, and as she opened her eyes, she found Jonathan still beside her, seemingly unchanged from the night before.

"Jonathan?" Y/n spoke.

"Did you sleep fine?" Jonathan inquired.

"Yeah... I'm fine, I think," Y/n replied.

"I want to talk to you about something," Jonathan stated.

"Mhmm?" Y/n hummed, intrigued by what he had to say.

Jonathan turned to face her, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions. "I've been thinking, and... I believe it's time to discuss your future, Y/n."

Y/n shifted slightly, intrigued yet unsure of where the conversation would lead. "What do you mean, Jonathan?"

He took a deep breath before continuing, "it’s been long enough, I think you can go now…” Jonathan said.

“W-what?” Y/n could barely speak.

“I trust you won’t say anything that will ruin the reputation I’ve built for myself, so I think you can go back to... whatever you were doing before,” Jonathan said.

“But I don’t want to leave you,” Y/n replied, her eyes welling with tears.

“Y/n, it’s not healthy for you to be locked up with me,” Jonathan tried to explain.

“Oh, fuck off! You didn’t give a damn when you took me in the first place!” Y/n yelled.

“Y/n, please... I don’t want you to be fucked up like this,” Jonathan said, looking away, his face hardened.

“That’s not fair! You should have thought about that before!” Y/n yelled, standing up from the bed and stomping her foot on the ground.

“I took you for selfish reasons, I will admit that, but you were never meant to be with me forever,” Jonathan said.

“Then why can’t I stay for selfish reasons?” Y/n asked.

“And why would you want to stay with me, hmm? I’m your professor who’s obsessed with you! I’m the one who kidnapped you! I’m the Scarecrow!” Jonathan yelled back, frustrated.

“Because I love you, Jonathan!” Y/n cried, tears pouring from her eyes.

Jonathan shook his head. “You can’t just say that, Y/n.”

“Yes, I can! Because it’s true!” Y/n yelled.

“But it’s not. You don’t really love me, Y/n. You’re confused,” Jonathan said, coming closer to her. He held her face in his palms as she cried.

“No, I do love you, Jonathan!” Y/n insisted.

“Y/n, I can’t keep you hidden,” Jonathan said.

“Then don’t! Just don’t leave me!” Y/n cried.

“I…I don’t know if our relationship will stay the same, Y/n. I don’t know if I can control myself,” Jonathan confessed.

“So! I don’t want it to be the same, I want more!” Y/n insisted.

“W-we’ll just see how it goes,” Jonathan said, not quite looking at her.

Y/n sighed with relief, “Thank you.”

“We will just stay here for a while…just before we find a new place to live. You’ll be allowed to leave whenever you wish, and you can do whatever you please. I won’t hold you back any longer,” Jonathan explained.

Y/n nodded, jumping back on the bed. Jonathan sighed, still wrestling with his internal struggles. He sat down on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. Y/n scooted closer to him, her eyes searching his troubled expression.

“I just don’t want to hurt you, Y/n. I've done terrible things, and I can’t promise it won’t happen again,” Jonathan admitted, his voice heavy with the weight of his past actions.

“I can handle it. I want to be with you, Jonathan,” Y/n said, determination in her eyes. “We can work through it together.”

Jonathan glanced at her, his eyes revealing a mix of gratitude and concern. He remained silent for a moment before finally nodding. “Okay. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Y/n smiled, relieved that he was willing to give their relationship a chance. They spent the rest of the day in the apartment, discussing their plans for the future and enjoying each other’s company without the confines of the apartment.

Edward had found a new hideout a week later, nestled further on the outskirts of Gotham, which bore a semblance to the warehouse they had left behind. Jonathan meticulously arranged the space to mimic the comfort of a home while maintaining the necessary elements for his work. The dimly lit room now had a certain warmth, thanks to a few strategically placed lamps, and the air carried a faint scent of a vanilla-scented candle that Y/n insisted on bringing.

As Y/n explored the room, she noticed familiar items from their previous hideout, each carefully placed to recreate the atmosphere they had grown accustomed to. The bed, although a bit sturdier, still held the same comforting aura. The bookshelves were adorned with a mix of academic literature and some novels Y/n had enjoyed.

Jonathan, usually reserved and focused on his work, couldn't help but crack a small smile as he observed Y/n's appreciation for the effort he put into making the new hideout feel like a home.

“We should be safe here for a while,” Jonathan commented, glancing around the room. “Hopefully, no unexpected guests this time.”

Y/n chuckled, “Fingers crossed. But if they do show up, we can handle it together.”

The understanding between them had grown, forged through the challenges they faced together. Jonathan appreciated Y/n's resilience and her willingness to stand by him, despite the risks involved. As they settled into their new hideout, the sense of companionship and shared purpose became the foundation of their unconventional relationship.

Y/n embraced the newfound freedom to live her life as she did before, with the added company of Jonathan. The bed, once solely hers, now became a shared space where they both found comfort and solace. The boundaries between their personal spaces blurred, and the room echoed with a shared sense of belonging.

In the soft glow of the lamplight, Y/n curled up on the bed with a book, the rhythmic turning of pages accompanying the occasional sound of Jonathan working on his experiments. It was a harmonious coexistence, where the solitude of their individual lives melded seamlessly with the shared moments in their hideout.

As Y/n glanced over at Jonathan, she couldn't help but marvel at how their lives had intertwined, creating a tapestry of shared experiences. The room, once a sterile workspace, now bore the imprints of their cohabitation—a testament to the unconventional but genuine connection they had formed.

She brushed aside the notion that their relationship had a fucked up start, cherishing the imperfections that had paved the way for something beautiful. In her eyes, the unorthodox beginning only added depth to the intricate tapestry of their connection. Despite its unconventional nature, their relationship had blossomed into a perfect blend of shared moments, understanding, and genuine affection.

A/N: The ending was a bit boring, I will admit, but I couldn't think of how else to end it. But I did enjoy writing a little part two for this one so here it is! Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it and feel free to request! 💚

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 4 months

Note

Office Hours/Bells is lowkey becoming one of my comfort fics, I love the lore and that they come from a kind of friendship that makes the whole fucked-up-ness of their situation less apparent xd Is there any chance you're considering writing another part? 👀

Also, your writing style is very impressive to me, I love how you go into detail when describing Y/n's feelings and thoughts and I like your vocabulary :3

Office Hours/Bells - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (Part 3)

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 10 329

Warnings: SMUT (public/car sex, fingering, masturbation, overstimulation, p in v, spanking, cunnilingus, dry humping, thigh humping, slight bimbofication), Obsessive behaviour, Professor x Student

Summary: Life had gone back to normal for Y/n now, back at uni and free to live, but she stayed with Jonathan. Then Jonathan starts getting needy and one thing leads to another.

A/N: I had no intentions of writing another part to this but I had to after this ask, thank you so much for sending me this anon 💚 I love hearing from you lot and I really appreciate it :) I'm glad to write someones comfort fic, it means the world to me.

I made Jonathan not only a horny bastard, but also a teasing bastard cause he's an asshat.

I also brought Edward back cause Y/n needs friends! I hope you enjoy 💚

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Y/n’s life seemed to have seamlessly returned to its familiar rhythm. University occupied her days and she was granted her freedom to leave whenever she wished. Returning to university proved surprisingly seamless. Explaining her abrupt absence required minimal effort, considering the shitty environment of Gotham. In a city with its own set of pressing concerns, the university showed little interest in the temporary disappearance of a single student. Some of her peers questioned her abrupt absence, but she told them it was family matters which made them drop the topic immediately. Her once-close friends, though accepting her explanation, gradually drifted away due to the lack of communication. She understood their perspective, yet the tethering force of circumstance made rekindling those connections a challenge. Nonetheless, in her newfound relationship with Jonathan, those fading ties held little consequence.

Jonathan had become the focal point of her existence, a gravitational force that commanded her thoughts every second of each living moment. Love enveloped her heart, and every morning, she revelled in waking up next to him, ensuring each time he left was accompanied by a heartfelt goodbye. She made sure he woke her up before he departed at ungodly hours just to say goodbye.

Yet, the intensity of her emotions caused many problems. Times when Jonathan would leave without waking her up, she’d frantically dial his phone, calling a hundred times if she had to, only to unleash her frustration over the phone. But Every time, Jonathan responded with unwavering devotion, hastening back to comfort her unrest and lull her back into a peaceful slumber. There were instances when she felt utterly adrift, grappling with the overwhelming weight of existence, succumbing to panic attacks that left her incapacitated. In those vulnerable moments, he would return to a dishevelled scene, a testament to the chaos that was caused by his absence.

Aware that her obsession was a result of his actions, he acknowledged the unhealthy dynamic but he honestly couldn’t care less. Rather than recoiling, he found a peculiar allure in her obsession. Initially motivated by a desire for her well-being, his aspirations shifted over time. Now, he craved her presence unapologetically, indifferent to the means employed to secure it. What once began as a pursuit of what was best for Y/n transformed into an unbridled desire to possess her, regardless of the cost.

"Should I go pick up the rest of my stuff from the dorms?" Y/n inquired, setting her book down and directing her gaze toward Jonathan, who was seated at his desk.

He glanced over at her, considering the question. "I suppose that would be wise. I can drop you off at the dorms to gather your things tomorrow if you'd like. I won’t be able to help you get them though, being a professor and all." Jonathan suggested.

"That’s fine, I have a bunch of suitcases to pack my shit in. I'll let my parents know I've moved into a new rental and won't need to pay for the dorms anymore," Y/n confirmed.

Although her belongings at the dorm were not extensive, the prospect of decorating the warehouse with her personal items excited her, transforming it into a space that felt more like home. She looked forward to the opportunity to drag Jonathan to a department store, determined to infuse the place with a proper sense of homeliness, complete with a well-equipped kitchen. The bathroom, too, demanded considerable attention. In its current state, it lacked any built-in features, as they’d only been there for a week.

Gathering her belongings proved to be a straightforward task. Y/n efficiently packed everything from her compact dorm room into the waiting suitcases nestled in her closet. The prospect of adorning the warehouse with her personal items filled her with excitement. Down the elevator and into Jonathan's car parked outside, she loaded her possessions before promptly returning the key to the front desk.

Back at the warehouse, she eagerly unpacked her bag. Carefully laying out her blankets on the bed, the necessity of being well-prepared for the harsh Gotham winters. Finally having a place for the essential home items collected over the years, like plates and cutlery, added a comforting touch to her new living space.

"You've got quite the haul," Jonathan remarked, observing Y/n pull out an abundance of items.

Raising an eyebrow, Y/n questioned, "You don't like my mugs?" She held up a pair of cat-themed mugs that she had just grabbed from her suitcase.

Jonathan chuckled, "I just didn't expect someone who lived at the dorm to have such an array of things."

"Well, I bought them so that when I was ready, I'd already have everything to fill a house," Y/n explained.

Jonathan arched an eyebrow, "Then it must disappoint you that this is barely a house."

"Nonsense. It means I get to choose how this place is decorated," Y/n retorted with a smirk, asserting her enthusiasm for transforming their living space.

"Oh, really? What's your vision then?" Jonathan inquired, intrigued by Y/n's plans.

Leaning against the modest kitchen, Y/n surveyed their current setup. "Well, I'm not entirely certain about the kitchen yet, but it's going to be a vast improvement from what we have now," she asserted, gesturing towards the pitiful kitchen space, barely accommodating a mini fridge with a microwave above and a small countertop.

"And as for the bathroom, gunmetal grey, I think. Nice tiles, too," Y/n envisioned.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, a practical concern surfacing. "You do understand we can't have people coming in here to do that work, right?" he pointed out, as this place held all his illegal equipment.

"I know. I can do it myself," Y/n confidently replied.

Surprised, Jonathan questioned, "You know how to tile?"

"Yeah, my mum and dad used to do up houses together. I've got some handiness skills, don't worry," Y/n assured, her tone reflecting both competence and determination. “But besides..that’s a job for another day.”

Jonathan hadn't imagined such a skill from Y/n, but he found himself appreciating the prospect of someone finally transforming their warehouse into something more inviting. As Y/n carried on with her unpacking, the idea of a visually improved environment began to take root.

Y/n dedicated the majority of her class time to envisioning and designing the ideal kitchen and bathroom for the warehouse. Having already grasped the lesson from Jonathan a week ago in private, most of the material seemed redundant. Jonathan, aware of her tendency to zone out, didn’t mind much. He’d never call her out in lectures like the other students.

Armed with her sketches and ideas, Y/n meticulously outlined the placement of kitchen cabinets and various items in her notebook. She opted against structural changes, acknowledging her lack of confidence in altering the layout of walls.

From his desk at the front, Jonathan observed her from a distance. Even at that distance, he could discern a glint in her eyes as she immersed herself in the creative process. His gaze remained captivated by her presence. The subtle way she bit her lip in deep thought, coupled with her choice to sit at the front, afforded him a clear view of her legs beneath the desk. Legs crossed, bare, and accentuated by the skirt she had chosen to wear that day, further held his attention.

Jonathan had always perceived her in a clean, innocent way–until today. Now, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was a dirty old man. Though she wasn't doing anything remotely sexual, he still felt ashamed of himself. To make matters worse, he couldn't tell whether he'd manage to restrain his impulses once alone with her.

The lecture concluded, and Y/n patiently waited for the room to clear before slipping into Jonathan's office.

"I've got some home plans!" Y/n announced, waving her paper triumphantly as she approached him.

Rounding the side of his desk, she brought a chair with her and settled next to him. Leaning in, she shuffled closer, spreading out her papers and indicating the above-view image of the warehouse's floor plan.

"I was thinking we could shift the kitchen over here, away from the bathroom. I mean, having no space between the two rooms is kind of gross, don't you think?" Y/n explained, pointing at the image with her pen.

Jonathan tried to focus on her words, but her proximity, especially the enticing warmth of her thigh against his own, distracted him.

"We can relocate the living space here, and it would be a better setup than what we have now. As we settle in, maybe we could add some walls, but honestly, I'm not confident in my skill set for that right now, so tha—" Y/n abruptly halted her explanation, catching Jonathan's lingering gaze.

"Why are you staring at me?" she inquired, noticing his distraction.

Jonathan, unable to resist, admitted, "Sorry, my Dear," before capturing her lips in a surprisingly passionate kiss, letting actions convey what words couldn't.

She emitted a soft squeak in response to the unexpected kiss, attributing it to Jonathan's attempt to express affection. Detecting an unusual tension in him that day, she decided to let it slide. "It's fine, just don't complain when the warehouse looks weird," she quipped with a playful note.

Y/n rose from the chair and settled onto the couch. However, the lingering trace of her scent and the warmth from her body seemed to cling to him, leaving an indelible impression long after she had moved away.

They arrived back at his hideout later in the night, and Jonathan couldn't shake off the feeling that he was a dirty pervert. All he wanted was Y/n's body all over him, a thought that clashed violently with his normally dispassionate nature. Even when he was a teenager, he never had romantic thoughts about anyone, much less lustful ones. But in his defense, his school was full of assholes and his grandmother would beat the lust out of him. But now, with Y/n in the picture, he couldn't help but feel like he was losing control.

Jonathan had promised Y/n that they would sit on the couch together and watch a movie tonight. She was bouncing with excitement, already making microwave popcorn for the movie. When she jumped onto the couch beside him, Jonathan couldn't help but feel his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to focus on the screen, but all he could see was Y/n's warm, inviting body next to him. Jonathan could feel all the blood rush to his dick, making it twitch painfully under his jeans. Thankfully, Y/n kept a blanket on the couch so he could cover up and pretend that nothing was wrong.

Y/n laid her head on Jonathan's shoulder while he sat awkwardly straight. She thought nothing of his usual stiffness, and for once, he was glad for his natural awkwardness. He could feel her warm breath on his neck, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest against his own. He tried to focus on the movie, but all he could think about was the soft curves of her body. He couldn't help but feel a wave of desire wash over him as he fought to keep his hands to himself.

While Y/n was enjoying The Spongebob Squarepants Movie, Jonathan was stuck in a battle with his own thoughts. All he could think about was how he wanted to hear Y/n moan and scream beneath him as he rammed his dick into her. He tried to keep his cool, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was losing control.

Jonathan let his eyes drift from the flashy colors of the screen to Y/n. He couldn't help but notice the way her leg was thrusted out from under the blanket, her loose shorts revealing the soft, warm flesh of her thigh.

All he could think about was how he wanted to bury his face between Y/n's thighs and eat her out while her legs squeezed his head. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he couldn't help but imagine the way her body would shudder with pleasure as he brought her to orgasm.

Poor Y/n wanted to have a sweet moment together, but Jonathan's thoughts were ruining it for him. Y/n had no idea of the battle that raged within him, the way he wanted to throw her down onto the couch and rut her like a dog in heat. He knew he had to keep it together if he didn't want to ruin this precious moment with Y/n.

He remained blissfully unaware that the film had ended until the closing credits began rolling, accompanied by the familiar tune of "Ocean Man." Y/n sat up, stretching, and inadvertently causing her shirt to ride up a little.

"I love that movie," she expressed, glancing down at Jonathan, who remained seated, seemingly reluctant to move.

"Come on, time for bed," Y/n insisted, seizing Jonathan's hand and coaxing him off the couch.

As she switched off the TV and put the empty popcorn bowl away, Jonathan stood there, taking a moment to readjust his pants, ensuring they wouldn't expose him. The both of them climbed up the stairs and hopped in the bed.

"Goodnight," Y/n murmured, leaving a tender kiss on Jonathan's cheek before rolling over.

"Sleep came easily for Y/n, but for Jonathan, it was a different story. He lay awake with his hard dick pressed against his pants, thinking he couldn’t possibly be as horny in the morning as he was now, right? Oh boy, was he wrong.

For the next week, Jonathan felt like a perverted bastard. Every time he saw Y/n, he could feel his dick pulse in his pants. When he took her to the department store to look at cabinets and countertops, he couldn't help but imagine the way her body would shudder with pleasure as he fucked her over each one of them. How cute she’d look laying over the counters, moaning and squealing in pleasure as Jonathan fucked her.

The two successfully purchased a nice set of countertops without Jonathan succumbing to his usual impulses. To maintain a low profile, Jonathan opted to rent a trailer for transporting the counters, avoiding the attention that delivery might attract. With the countertops secured, Y/n wasted no time and dove into the task of installing them in her designated kitchen space. Jonathan helped in rearranging everything, providing a helping hand as Y/n drilled the countertops into their designated spots.

Y/n was on the ground, drilling the indie shlefs of the lower cabinets. Jonathan walked up behind her and stood there. Y/n was wearing baggy pair of pajama shorts and he couldn’t look away from her ass. He wanted to grab her hips and force his dick inside of her like some shitty porno. Y/n noticed Jonathan standing behind her and looked back.

"Everything okay, Jonathan?" Y/n inquired, her concern evident in her voice.

Jonathan inhaled sharply before walking away. He hoped Y/n hadn't seen his raging bulge in his pants. Y/n had begun noticing his strange behavior. If he wasn't strange before, he sure was now. She couldn't understand why he was like this. She tried to focus on their task, but all she could think about was the way his eyes had lingered on her body just a moment too long. Could he be thinking of some kind of twisted experiment like he does to his other victims. She couldn't help but feel a wave of unease wash over her as she wondered what was going on inside his head.

Y/n reclined on Jonathan's office couch, casually flipped through bathroom catalogues. As he watched her from behind the desk, Jonathan couldn't help but admire her stunning presence. Flipping through the pages with a smile, Y/n eventually stood up and approached Jonathan, holding a particular page out for him to look at.

"What do you think?" she inquired, presenting the page before him.

Yet, Jonathan found his gaze fixed on Y/n's face rather than the catalog. A face he looked at countless times daily, yet it still retained its irresistible allure, maintaining an enduring power over him. And these past couple weeks, everything about her he admire suddenly brought blood rushing to his dick.

Y/n's smile waned as silence met her question. "Jonathan?"

Before she could react, he swiftly cupped her face in his hands and pulled her into a kiss, leaving her momentarily breathless. She would have gasped if his mouth hadn't enveloped hers. When he finally pulled back, he held her gaze.

"Jonat—" she began, only to be abruptly cut off.

With a forceful motion, Jonathan cleared his books from the table, then effortlessly picked Y/n up from the ground, dropping her onto the tabletop. She squealed in surprise as he stood, the chair screeching against the floor, and loomed over her.

Y/n's heart raced as she realized Jonathan's true intentions. He brought his lips back down onto hers, kissing her with a fiery passion she'd never seen before. He pressed himself up against her, and she could feel his hard member pressing into her. It all made sense to her now. Jonathan was just really horny. All she could think about was the way his kisses made her body tingle with excitement.

She kissed him back, her fingers tangling in his hair. He groaned at her delicate touch and brought his lips down her face, leaving a trail of kisses on her jaw. He sucked and bit at her jaw and neck, leaving marks that would turn into bruises later. His hands glided down the sides of her body, gripping her plush thighs that he had been admiring for the past couple weeks. His rough fingers felt like heaven against her soft skin.

Jonathan subconsciously began grinding his hips into Y/n, and she let out a moan that echoed through the room. Y/n let her hands drag down Jonathan's body, making their way down to his pants, and that's when Jonathan realized what they were doing and where they were. He pulled away from her, but she couldn't help but feel a wave of disappointment wash over her.

"We can't, Y/n," Jonathan said, standing up.

"What!? Why not?" Y/n questioned, sitting up from the table, a frown creasing her forehead.

"I'm not going to fuck you for the first time on a desk in my office," Jonathan said.

"Then why don't you make love to me on your desk in your office?" Y/n teased, playfully dragging her foot up the inside of his leg.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow in response, and Y/n, with an eye roll, conceded, "Fine."

Jonathan assisted her off the desk and took a moment to brush her hair, ensuring she looked presentable. "Come on, let's go home," he suggested.

"Fine, but the second we get through that door, your dick is all mine," Y/n playfully declared.

Y/n practically sprinted to the car in the parking lot, surprising Jonathan with her infectious enthusiasm. Once both of them were inside the car, Y/n quickly slid into the middle seat and peppered the side of Jonathan's face with kisses. A warmth spread through Jonathan's neck beneath his collar, caught off guard by Y/n’s affection.

He pulled out onto the road and Y/n was still at his side, her finger drawing pattern on his thigh, her touch like a feather that ignited a flame within him. “You keep this up and I might crash.” Jonathan said, his voice shaking with desire.

She chuckled a little, her tongue darting out to lick the side of his neck while her hand began to wander, tracing patterns on his chest with her tight grip, sending tingles down to his core. Y/n dragged her finger down to his hard member through his pants and squeezed it suddenly, causing Jonathan nearly to swerve off the road. It was a moment of intoxicating desire that he could not control.

"Fuck, Y/n. Are you trying to get punished?" Jonathan inquired.

"Maybe..." Y/n replied with a sly grin.

Jonathan gently removed her hand from his crotch. "Not while I'm driving," he asserted.

"Can you at least play with me then?" Y/n pleaded, pouting.

He sighed, "Lie down," he commanded.

Y/n was caught up in the heat of the moment, her body craving Jonathan's touch. She felt pleasure rush to her core and quickly laid down on her back, her head on Jonathan’s thigh. Jonathan, with his eyes still on the road, brought his hand down Y/n’s body and grasped her thighs. He pulled it back, one of her legs now in the air.

“You naughty fucking girl.” He said, giving her ass a hard slap. “Can’t wait till we're home.”

She squealed before giggling. “I’m sorry, Professor, I just want you so bad!” Y/n said, her words catching in her throat.

He brought his hand to her core and rubbed her through her shorts. She hummed and grabbed a hold of Jonathan’s arm, her fingers digging into his skin. She started grinding up against it, trying to get more friction, her breath coming in short gasps.

Y/n's body was on fire as she felt Jonathan's hand slide down her pants and into her underwear. She bit her lip and moaned, her hips bucking against his touch. She felt his fingers graze her clit, sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core. He could feel her wetness through her underwear, his fingers slipping and sliding against her. Jonathan did his best to stay focused on the road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

He couldn't resist the temptation any longer. He pulled over to the side of the road, his eyes locked on Y/n's.

“What are you doing?” Y/n asked, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“Come here,” Jonathan said, pulling her right up against his chest.

He could feel her heart racing against his own. He pushed her shorts down her legs and opened her back up, his fingers dipping between her wet pussy lips. She let out a moan, her hips bucking against his touch. His other hand pushed her hair out of the way, giving her neck a passionate kiss. She let out a moan, her body arching into his touch.

“You’re so desperate for my touch, my Dear,” Jonathan said.

He rubbed his finger in circles at her entrance, teasing her and driving her wild. “Yeah, but you’re the one who pulled over to finger me, Dr. Crane..” Y/n giggled, her voice breathy with desire.

He grabbed her chin and forced her to look up at him, his eyes burning into hers. “Keep up that attitude and you won’t be cumming for a week.”

She let out a gasp, her body shivering at his words. “Sorry, Dr. Crane, I’ll be good..” she said, her voice trembling.

“Good girl,” he said, his eyes softening as he kissed the top of her head. He plunged his finger into her, filling her up with his touch.

He pumped his fingers into her hole, her body clenching and unclenching around his touch. The sloppy noises filled the car, her moans and gasps echoing off the walls of the car. The scent of her sex filled the air, making his head swim with desire. He gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as he pumped in and out of her.

“Tonight, I’m going to make you come, over and over again. You hear me?” Jonathan spoke, right up against her ear.

Y/n nodded, her eyes wide with anticipation. Her walls began throbbing around him, her body shivering with desire.

“Are you gonna cum on my fingers, my Dear?” Jonathan asked.

“Mhmm, Professor, I’m so close!” Y/n whined, her voice breathy with excitement.

He rubbed her in circles, his thumb rubbing against her clit, driving her wild. Her breath picked up as Jonathan continued to pump his fingers inside of her and flick her clit. She gripped his arm tighter, her body shivering with anticipation. He rubbed her in circles, his thumb rubbing against her clit, driving her wild. She let out a moan, her body arching into his touch.

It was a moment of intense pleasure that they couldn't resist. She came hard, her body shuddering with the force of her orgasm. Her pussy clenched and unclenched around his touch, the wetness of her sex filling the air. He could feel the heat of her body, the passion of their moment bursting forth in a explosion of desire. It was a moment of intense desire that left them both breathless.

Jonathan pressed a kiss on her temple. “Let’s go home, my Dear.” Jonathan said, his voice sweet.

He pulled his fingers out of her, a string of her slick stuck to them. He brought them to his lips and sucked her sweet essence off of his fingers. Y/n let out a gasp, her body shivering with excitement.

Just as Y/n was about to sit back up, Jonathan held her back, keeping her anchored against him. Her body swelled with love at this little gesture. She laid back against him, her head resting on his chest. She could clearly see his hard member sitting in his pants, but she knew she couldn't touch it while he was driving. The drive back never felt longer.

Getting through the warehouse door, Y/n pounced on Jonathan, kissing him deeply. Her breath picked up as he lifted her off the ground, her body shivering with anticipation. He made his way up the stairs to the bed, dropping her down on it. She gripped the sheets in her fists, her body swelling with desire.

He climbed on top of her, his lips pressing against hers. He moved his kisses to her neck, suckling at the tender skin. She gripped his hair, her body arching into his touch. He thrust his hips against hers, the heat of his body pressing against her. She could feel the hardness of his cock in his pants, the tip pressing against her cunt. She tightened her legs around his hips, pulling him down on her. He groaned, his lips pressing against hers.

“This is what you wanted?” Jonathan said, seductively.

“Mhmm,” Y/n hummed, her lips biting together.

He bit her neck hard, her body shuddering with excitement. “Say it,” he commanded.

“Yes, Dr. Crane!” Y/n cried, her body arching into his touch.

He smirked, his lips pressing against hers. He continued to grind down on her, the heat of his body pressing against her. She let out a gasp as he ripped her shorts down her legs.

“Don't think I haven't forgotten about that punishment,” he said.

Jonathan left a hard slap on Y/n's ass, the sting of it burning against her skin. She let out a gasp, her body shuddering with excitement. He rubbed the spot where he had hit her, his thumb rubbing against her skin.

Jonathan grabbed her hips, pulling her up, so her ass was in the air. He spread her legs and gave her ass another slap.

“Letting your Professor finger you in the car, naughty little girl,” Jonathan said. A hard slap came down on her ass before thrust his fingers into her pussy, the heat of his touch sending shivers down her spine.

“Playing with your little cunt sounds a lot worse to me, Professor,” Y/n teased.

Another slap came down on her ass, “You calling me a dirty pervert?” Jonathan asked.

“I may be..” she smirked.

“Yeah? So I'm a dirty pervert and you're a naive little girl,” he said, his voice low and rough. He planted a kiss down on her red ass cheek.

Jonathan flipped her back over, planting sweet kisses on her lips. Y/n, eager for more, slid her hands to Jonathan's shoulders, working on removing his jacket. However, just as things were about to escalate, Jonathan's work phone rang, his illegal work phone.

The two of them cursed simultaneously. Jonathan sighed and rested his forehead on Y/n’s with his eyes closed. “You have to be fucking kidding me,” Jonathan said.

Jonathan sat back up, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his phone and promptly answered it. Y/n pouted, propping herself up on her elbows as she watched him on the phone. His voice conveyed clear frustration, and the expression on his face mirrored the sentiment. Whatever transpired, it was evident that the situation was far from favorable.

The call ended, and Jonathan's expression turned somber as he dragged his hand down his face. "I have to head down to Arkham, I'm sorry, my Dear," he sighed.

Y/n's face dropped, desperation evident in her eyes. "No! You can't leave me!" she cried.

"I know, Y/n, I'm sorry. I need to deal with this, the Batman's been snooping, and I can't let that happen," Jonathan explained, gently holding Y/n's face in his hands.

"But I need you!" Y/n's eyes welled up with tears.

"Y/n, if the Batman finds out what I'm doing, I won't be coming back to you at all, and you don't want that, do you?" Jonathan said.

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. Jonathan planted a tender kiss on her forehead.

"I'll be back, don't cry," he reassured her.

She nodded, sniffling. "I'll wait," Y/n declared.

"I know," Jonathan offered a small smile before hopping off the bed and walking down the stairs.

Y/n fought to compose herself, determined not to shed any more tears. Left lying on the bed as Jonathan exited the warehouse, she wiped away the traces of her emotional outburst and mustered the strength to rise. Making her way to the bathroom, she assessed her reflection in the mirror.

Apart from her puffy eyes, her appearance seemed unremarkable, but she desired to present her best self for Jonathan upon his return. Opting for a quick shower and freshening up, she hastily ascended the stairs to select an outfit for the occasion.

She tossed her clothes around in a flurry, searching for something alluring to showcase her body to Jonathan. Unfortunately, it seemed her collection of bras and underwear consisted mainly of plain and mundane options. While she did have a couple of lacy pieces, they lacked the thrilling allure she desired. She let out a sigh, berating herself for not anticipating such a scenario.

Preferring not to be entirely naked upon Jonathan's return, Y/n searched for an outfit that would offer him the pleasure of unwrapping her later. Opting for a nice skirt and shirt combination, she believed Jonathan wouldn't mind. Choosing a short skirt, she hiked it up even higher, pairing it with a small shirt that ended just below her breasts and featured a flattering sweetheart neckline.

Adorned in her chosen attire, Y/n felt she looked absolutely adorable and held onto the hope that Jonathan would think the same. Laying back on the bed, Y/n contemplated the moments she would share with Jonathan upon his return. Despite her efforts to stay awake and be ready for him, she succumbed to exhaustion within an hour.

Jonathan wante to kill everyone that fucked up his night with Y/n, he was furious the entire time getting things sorted at Arkham. Hiding his experiments was already a challenging task, and the incompetence of those who worked for him made everything more difficult to an unnecessary degree.

Jonathan raced back to the warehouse, speeding all the way. By the time he arrived, well past 11 o'clock, the faint sound of a radio reached his ears from upstairs. Climbing the stairs, he sighed at the sight of Y/n, peaceful and beautiful, lying on the bed.

Regret gnawed at him for leaving her alone, he should have stayed, leaving the complications at Arkham for someone else to handle.

Noticing her changed clothes, he smiled. She lay on her stomach, her skirt revealing a hint of her tempting silhouette. Chuckling softly, he joined her on the bed, sitting beside her. As he stroked her hair, he could tell she was deeply asleep.

Jonathan planted a gentle kiss on her head before undressing and changing into pajamas. Slipping into bed beside her, he tucked her in, sharing the warmth of the covers.

Y/n awoke to find Jonathan's arm draped over her waist. Uncertain about the moment she fell asleep or when he returned home, a hint of disappointment lingered that they never ended up having sex last night. Nevertheless, the joy of his return outweighed any regrets.

She leaned over to plant a kiss on his lips before gracefully rising from the bed. Jonathan stirred as the bed shifted with her movements, and he watched as Y/n stretched her arms upward and twisted from side to side. Chuckling at the sight of her, with her enticing figure partially exposed, Jonathan's amusement prompted Y/n to turn around and catch his gaze.

"You're up?" Y/n smiled, breaking the quiet morning.

“It would appear that way, my Dear,” Jonathan replied.

Y/n leaned over, giving Jonathan another kiss, and this time, he reciprocated as he was awake this time. Jonathan finally sat up, embracing Y/n in his arms. She smiled, and he swayed her gently from side to side.

“So… are you going to make love to me, Dr. Crane?” Y/n asked, her tone teasing.

She stood on her tiptoes, nibbling at his ear seductively. Jonathan chuckled and shook his head.

“Tonight, my Dear,” he said.

Y/n pouted, “I waited all night!”

“I know, but we have to go to university, and I want to take my time with you,” Jonathan explained with a playful smirk.

Y/n huffed and rolled her eyes. "You better!" she said before making her way down the stairs.

Jonathan chuckled, amused by her playful sulking. He got up, readying himself for the day ahead.

In the car, Y/n moved closer to Jonathan, reminiscent of the previous day. Her fingers traced patterns on his thigh, but Jonathan intercepted her hand before anything further could happen. Y/n huffed but decided to let it go.

Upon reaching the university, the two settled in Jonathan's office, awaiting the start of the lecture. Y/n occupied the couch, attempting to capture Jonathan's attention the entire time. She gracefully slid down the couch, causing her skirt to hike up, revealing her underwear.

Jonathan was well aware of her intentions. He chuckled a little, maintaining his self-control. Just the day before, he struggled to keep his dick in check, and now he found himself edging her. Though his thoughts were running wild, essentially eye fucking her, he managed to remain composed.

Y/n was driven wild with desire, yearning for Jonathan's touch. She didn't care where he touched her or where he fucked her, all she wanted was him. She pulled her skirt up higher, revealing her clothed sex, and sat with her legs open, giving Jonathan a view of what he was working with. Jonathan didn't hesitate to look, but he made no move to touch her yet.

Y/n sighed, "Don't make me hump the couch."

"Hump the couch and I won't be touching you," Jonathan said.

“So..” Y/n stood up from the couch and straddled his leg. "Can I hump your thigh then?" Y/n asked.

"Fine, but no orgasm," Jonathan said.

Y/n giggled and began rocking her hips back and forth, her breath hitching as she felt the head of his cock brush against her knee through his pants.

Y/n was riding Jonathan's thigh, her hips moving in a steady rhythm. Her dress had ridden up to her waist, revealing the black lace of her only pair of underwear. Her breasts swayed with each movement, her nipples hard and poking through the fabric. She was breathing heavily, her face flushed with excitement. Jonathan watched her, his cock twitching with desire. He could feel the dampness of her sex through the fabric of his pants. He knew he couldn't last much longer.

"Such a sweet girl, you are," Jonathan said, his hands settling on her hips as she rode his thigh.

Her knees continued to brush against his hard erection, and Y/n couldn't help but laugh. "Calm down, don't wanna fog up your glasses," she teased, looking up at him with a mischievous grin.

Jonathan pulled her closer to his chest, her ass jutting out. He delivered a hard smack to her ass, making her gasp. "Watch it," he said, his voice stern.

Y/n looked up at him with a sly grin. "Sorry, Doc," she teased, knowing exactly what she was doing to him.

Y/n continued to ride his thigh, her hips grinding down hard against his touch. She could feel the wetness between her legs, and she knew that he could too. His cock was hard, and she could feel it pressing against her. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the moans that were threatening to escape

Jonathan watched her, his eyes burning with lust. He delivered a swift smack to her ass, making her chuckle and him smrik. Y/n looked up at him, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Doctor, I think I'm gonna cum," she said, her voice shaking with anticipation.

Y/n was on the edge of orgasm when Jonathan pulled her off of his knee. "I don't think so, Dear," he said firmly.

Her building orgasm vanished, and Y/n was left feeling frustrated and angry. "What the fuck!?" she yelled, her hands balled into fists.

Jonathan looked at her with a stern expression. "I said no orgasm," he reminded her.

Y/n huffed, her chest heaving with anger. "Fine. Then I'll just have to figure out another way to cum," she said, turning away from him.

But Jonathan wasn't done. He swatted her ass hard, making her yelp and turn back around.

"Don't think for a second that you're in control here," he said.

Y/n was furious. She stood up from her position and stormed over to the couch, crossing her arms.

“No time for sulking, girl, gotta be out in 5...” Jonathan remarked.

She got up from the couch, declaring, “I’m leaving now!”

Y/n stomped out of the office door and headed to her usual seat at the front. She was in for a long lecture.

The lecture concluded, and Y/n approached Jonathan, who sported a familiar smirk.

“Ready to head home?” Y/n said.

“For you, yes,” Jonathan replied with a smile.

“What?” Y/n squinted, puzzled.

“I have a meeting, and I've asked Nigma to take you home,” Jonathan explained.

“What, you two are buddies now?” Y/n questioned.

“Doesn't matter what we are; I want you home safe while I'm at my meeting,” Jonathan stated, gathering his belongings.

Y/n sighed, “You better be back before 5, come any later, and I'll be cumming instead,” she teased.

Jonathan chuckled, planting a kiss on her forehead. “He's waiting outside,” he informed her.

Y/n sighed and walked out of the lecture hall and outside. She immediately spotted Edward by his bright lime green car.

“How subtle,” Y/n remarked, approaching the car with its windows down.

“Hello, Y/n. Very nice to see you!” Edward greeted.

Y/n hopped into the passenger seat of the car. “So! Doing favors for Jonathan now?” she asked.

“I owe him... and besides, you're much more fun than that stick in the mud,” Edward replied.

Y/n chuckled as Edward pulled out onto the road.

“I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?” Edward suddenly posed a riddle.

“Seriously?” Y/n raised her eyebrows, looking at Edward. “A map. What am I, five?”

“I see that one was too easy, you'll never get my next one,” Edward said.

Y/n sighed, this was going to be a long ride.

Y/n was mentally exhausted. Being horny for the entire day was hard enough but dWe ealing with Edward's annoying riddles during the 20-minute drive had only added to her frustration. Despite that, she found some enjoyment in Edward's company.

“Would you like to come in?” Y/n asked.

Edward raised his eyebrows. “You really want me to?”

“Well, sure... just no more riddles!” Y/n demanded.

“You ask so much of me,” Edward said, hopping out of the car.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “You’ll live.”

They entered the warehouse, and Edward looked around, whistling in appreciation. “I see you’ve done some work around here,” he remarked.

“You like it?” Y/n asked.

“Much better than Jonathan’s old place. He’s never been the decorative type,” Edward said.

As Y/n led Edward Nigma into the warehouse, she offered, "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

Edward's eyes gleamed with interest. "Ah, the elixir of intellectual stimulation. I'd love one, thank you."

She stared at him for a second, judging his choice of words before walking off. Y/n guided him to a makeshift kitchen area where she had set up a coffee maker. She busied herself with the task of brewing coffee while Edward observed her surroundings, his eyes darting from one detail to another.

Handing him a steaming cup, Y/n took a seat across from Edward at a small table. "Sorry that you had to take me home? Well, not really, you paid it all back by tormenting me with riddles on the drive"

Edward grinned, sipping the coffee. "Well, my riddles are a delight, thank you. Jonathan asked me to ensure you get home safely. You're important to him, you know."

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "I guess even Gotham rogues like yourself have a softer side."

Edward chuckled. "You know.. I’m surprised you even stayed."

Y/n maintained her smile, though it held a hint of frustration. "Well... We were friends before everything," she reiterated, trying to explain her perspective.

Edward continued stirring the conversation provocatively. "You sure it's not... Stockholm Syndrome?" he questioned, his finger tracing the rim of his coffee cup.

"No, it's not. He didn't really kidnap me," Y/n replied, laughter accompanied by a hint of stiffness.

Edward pressed further, bringing up the topic of the infamous bells. "Jonathan told me about the bells..."

"That doesn't matter anymore, he took them off. See!" Y/n shook her feet around, emphasizing that they made no sounds.

Edward, persistent in his scepticism, offered a backhanded suggestion. "I'd say you should see a psychiatrist, but I just think you'd find your way back to Jona-"

"Okay, Edward! I get it!" Y/n interjected, her smile tight-lipped, signalling an end to the topic.

Edward chuckled to himself, savouring a sip from his mug, as Y/n subtly redirected the conversation. "So yeah, I did up a nice kitchen and bathroom," she stated.

He observed his surroundings before responding, "Yes, it's a very nice kitchen."

As they continued chatting over coffee, Y/n was able to ignore the throbbing between her thighs for a couple of hours.

As the sun began to set, Y/n sat on the couch, her legs crossed and her eyes fixed on the TV screen. She was getting restless. It had been nearly 5 pm now, and Jonathan still hadn't come home. Edward had left a couple of hours ago, leaving Y/n with little to no distractions.

She had tried to read, but her mind kept wandering. She had taken a long shower, hoping to relieve some of her tension, but it hadn't helped. Y/n had been feeling a sense of desperation building up inside her. It was like her body was craving something that she couldn't get on her own.

She needed Jonathan. She needed him to make her feel complete. But for now, she was left to her own devices. She sighed and leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths. She needed to relax.

She flipped up her skirt and slipped her fingers down her underwear, touching herself in a way that made her shiver with excitement. Her hands moved slowly and sensually over her body. She moaned softly, feeling her core throbbing with anticipation. She rubbed her pussy in circles, her hips bucking against her touch. Her eyes fluttered close. She needed to cum. She needed it badly.

The TV was blaring, and Y/n was so lost in her own world that she didn't even hear the door open. She was knuckles deep and close to orgasm.

“Well!” a voice from in front of her spoke loudly. She suddenly gasped, opening her eyes and shaking in fright.

It was Jonathan, standing in front of her with a disapproving look on his face.

"You said you had until 5," he said, looking at his wrist watch. "It's only 4:51."

Y/n shook her head, trying to regain her composure. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice shaking.

Jonathan shook his head, disappointed. "You think you can just do as you please?" he asked, his voice low and menacing.

Y/n shook her head, her eyes wide with fear. "No, no. Of course not," she said, trying to pacify him.

"Looks like you don't want to cum tonight," Jonathan said.

Y/n begged, grabbing onto Jonathan's arm. "No, please!" she said, her voice shaking. Jonathan didn't say anything else.

He just picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. She screamed as he took her up the stairs and dropped her back on the bed.

"What am I going to do with such a naughty patient like you?" he asked, looking down at her.

"Anything, Doctor," Y/n said, her voice shaking. "Just let me cum."

Jonathan sighed, feeling frustrated. He wanted to punish Y/n and not let her cum, but he could also see that she was desperate too.

"I'll let you cum," he said, "but you listen to me. I'm in charge."

Y/n nodded her head quickly. "Thank you, Dr. Crane," she said, her voice almost breathless.

Jonathan climbed onto the bed, hovering above Y/n. "You're going to cum three times," he said, "with no breaks, okay?"

Y/n nodded her head quickly. "Good," Jonathan said, his tone firm.

He straightened his back, removed his jacket, and rolled up his sleeves. "Move up a bit," he said, gesturing for Y/n to sit back further on the bed.

Y/n moved up, giving Jonathan more room below her. He knelt in front of her, his eyes fixed on her bare pussy.

"You're going to cum," he said, his voice seductive. "And you're going to enjoy every second of it."

Jonathan grabbed Y/n's legs and rested them over his shoulders. He brought his face closer to her pussy, inhaling the scent of her arousal. Y/n's eyes were filled with desperation as she watched him get closer and closer to her wet cunt. Jonathan licked her slowly, taking his time to tease her. He licked up and down her slit, making sure to hit all the right spots. Y/n moaned, her hips bucking against his touch.

His tongue danced around her clit, circling it slowly before dipping down to her entrance. Y/n cried out, arching her back as she felt him eat her out. Jonathan's tongue was magic, teasing and tormenting her. Y/n wriggled underneath him, trying to get closer to his mouth. She needed him to make her cum. Jonathan smiled to himself as he continued to eat her out, his eyes fixed on her pussy. He knew he had her right where he wanted her.

“Fuck, Dr. Crane!” Y/n moaned, gripping Jonathan’s hair.

Jonathan stuck his tongue into Y/n's entrance, pushing it in as far as he could. Y/n let out a sharp gasp, her eyes widening with surprise. He moved his tongue around, making circles and figure-eights inside her. Y/n bucked underneath him, her hips pushing against his face. Jonathan smiled, feeling her walls clench around his tongue.

He was driving her wild, and he knew it. Y/n moaned, her voice thick with arousal. She could feel her orgasm building, and she knew she was going to explode. Jonathan licked her until she could no longer take it. He pulled his tongue out of her, watching as she cried out in frustration. He smiled, knowing he had complete control over her pleasure. Y/n was his to do with as he pleased.

Jonathan withdrew his mouth, adjusting his glasses as he looked up at her. "Enjoying yourself, my pretty patient?" he asked with a smirk.

“Mhmm, yes, Dr. Crane.” Y/n bit her lips, looking down at him.

Jonathan began to finger her, pushing two fingers into her wet pussy. Y/n gasped, her eyes rolling back in her head. He moved his fingers in and out, stretching her walls and driving her wild. Y/n moaned, her hips pushing against his hand. Jonathan smiled, feeling her tighten around his fingers.

He sucked her clit, teasing it with his tongue. Y/n moaned, her hips bucking against his touch. Jonathan's fingers moved in and out of her, hitting all the right spots.

"You're such a desperate girl," Jonathan said.

"Please, Dr. Crane," Y/n said, her voice shaking with excitement.

"I need it." Jonathan smiled, feeling his cock harden at the sound of her voice.

He knew he had her right where he wanted her. "You're going to cum," he said. "And you're going to enjoy every second of it." Jonathan continued to eat her out, his tongue dancing around her pussy.

Y/n moaned, her hips bucking against his touch. "You like that?" he asked, looking up at her. "You like the way I'm making you feel?"

Y/n nodded her head quickly, her eyes fixed on his face. "Yes," she said, her voice thick with arousal. "Please, don't stop."

Y/n's body tensed, her walls clenched around his fingers, and her face contorted in pleasure. Jonathan smiled, feeling her orgasm build. He knew he was driving her wild. Y/n cried out, her body shuddering with pleasure. Her walls pulsed around his fingers, and her cunt spasmed on his tongue. Jonathan continued to eat her out, his tongue moving in circles around her clit. Y/n moaned, her body convulsing at his touch. She rolled her eyes back in her head, feeling the intensity of her orgasm. It was like nothing they had ever experienced before.

Y/n was coming down from her high, her eyes fixed on Jonathan's face. He smiled, knowing she was addicted to his touch. Jonathan's tongue was still on her, lapping up her juices seeping out. She whimpered, pushing his head away lightly.

"No use in that," Jonathan began to unbuckle his pants, his cock already hardening at the sight of her. "I've got all night with you."

Jonathan pulled his pants down just past his hips, revealing his hard cock to Y/n. She admired it, her eyes fixed on the sight. He stroked it slowly, the dick already slick with her juices from his fingers. Jonathan lifted her legs onto his shoulders, the position she would learn to love. He lined himself up at her entrance, his cock pressing against her wet pussy. He slowly pushed in, watching as Y/n gasped. He smiled, feeling her walls clench around his cock.

Jonathan leaned over top of her, his lips brushing against her ear. "You’re so beautiful?"

Jonathan began thrusting into Y/n, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm. His hand roamed up the side of her legs, gripping her ankle. He felt the scars on her ankles and rubbed his thumb over them soothingly. Y/n moaned, her body arching into his touch. She reached up to unbutton his shirt, but he grabbed her wrists and held them above her head.

"I'm in control," he said, his voice firm. "You're mine to do with as I please." Y/n whimpered, her body shuddering with pleasure.

“Sorry, Dr. Crane,” Y/n said, breathlessly.

Jonathan's erection was big and hard, sliding in and out of Y/n's pussy. The feeling of his cock hitting her walls sent shockwaves of pleasure through her body. She could feel every inch of him as he pounded her. The sound of their flesh slapping together filled the room.

Y/n's head fell back and her eyes were closed tightly as she enjoyed the ride. Jonathan's breath was heavy as he groaned, continuing to thrust into her. He'd never felt something more heavenly, he knew he'd be addicted to the feeling of being inside of her. He continued to thrust, hitting the sweet spots inside of her.

In the position she was in, with her legs over his shoulders and arms above her head, Y/n was at Jonathan’s whim completely and she loved it. She felt his every stroke deep inside her, the burn in her pussy building with each thrust. His musky scent filled her nostrils, and she couldn't help but moan in ecstasy as the heat between them grew.

“You're such a good patient, Y/n,” he whispered against her ear, his hot breath making her wetter. Jonathan's words sent shivers down Y/n's spine.

Y/n couldn't help but moan in response, arching her back as his cock hit her sweet spot again and again.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, “I'm your patient, Dr. Crane.”

With that, he fucked her harder, taking him deep inside her as she called out his name. Jonathan's thrusts grew harder and faster, his hips pistoning into Y/n's pussy with a force that made her gasp.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his eyes locked on hers.

Y/n's head fell back as she felt the burn in her pussy grow, her breath coming in short gasps. With each thrust, Jonathan's cock hit her sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She cried out in ecstasy, her nails digging into her palms as she urged him on.

Y/n felt her second orgasm building, her breath coming in short, heavy gasps. Jonathan's cock was still inside her, his eyes locked on hers as he watched her writhe in pleasure.

“Aww, is my little patient about to cum?” Jonathan mocked.

She had no time to answer when her body began shaking all over again, underneath Jonathan. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her, leaving her panting and weak in his arms. Jonathan kept up his pace, his cock hitting her sweet spot with every thrust. Y/n couldn't help but wonder how he was able to hold on for so long without cumming himself.

Y/n felt overstimulated, her senses on overload. Jonathan's cock was still pumping in her, his eyes locked on hers as he watched her writhe in pleasure, Jonathan fucked her harder and faster through her orgasm.

“Doctor, it's too much!” she gasped.

But Jonathan was unmoved. ”I don't care what it is, I'm gonna make you cum two more times,” he growled, his eyes locked on hers.

“B-but I've already cum twice! You said three!” Y/n cried.

“I changed my mind,” Jonathan replied, his voice low and sultry.

Y/n knew that if she said stop, he'd listen immediately. But she loved the idea that Jonathan was doing this all by force, his cock buried deep inside her as he pounded into her.

Jonathan suddenly flipped her over, Y/n lying on her stomach. Jonathan hovered above her from behind, lining himself up before pushing inside of her again. His body weight above her kept her in place, giving her nowhere to move.

Y/n felt the heat of his breath against her neck as he growled, "You're mine," into her ear.

She couldn't help but shiver, feeling so desired and taken. As he pounded into her, Y/n couldn't help but cry out in pleasure and overstimulation, her body responding to his every move. The pallets holding the bed up slammed against the floor, the sound echoing through the warehouse.

His hands gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as he pumped into her. Y/n pressed on the mattress, feeling the heavy thud of his cock against her pussy. Jonathan's face was beaded with sweat, he enveloped Y/n in a warm embrace, his arms encircling her shoulders and waist, securing her close to him with a tender grip.

Y/n gripped his arm and sat around her shoulder, trying to hold on to reality. Tears pricked her eyes as Jonathan pounded into her. Y/n could feel his cock slide in and out of her, his balls slapping against her ass cheeks. It was intense, and Y/n couldn't help but beg for more.

Her voice cracked as she pleaded, “Pleae! Don't stop!” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

His rough features softened as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, just below her eyes, “You're so beautiful.”

Their breaths came in short gasps as he pounded into her, his movements becoming haphazard. Jonathan's movements became unsteady as he neared his own orgasm, his breath coming in short gasps. Y/n felt his weight shift as he slammed into her, his expression twisting into a snarl. It was a surprise his glasses never fell off with how animalistic he was.

“F-fuck, I need to pull out,” Jonathan shuddered.

But Y/n held onto his arm tightly, not allowing him to move. “No! Please, Dr. Crane! Don’t pull out.”

Jonathan's muscles tensed, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he came, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. Y/n felt him pulse inside her, his hot cum filling her hole. But he didn't slow down, his thrusts becoming even more forceful as he continued to pound into her, ignoring his own overstimulation.

Jonathan's cum seeped out of her while he continued to pound into her, the sticky liquid dripping down her mound. Y/n had no time to think before her third orgasm came crashing down on her like a wave as Jonathan's thrusts grew even more frenzied. She cried out his name, her voice lost in the storm of pleasure that coursed through her body as her heart pounded in her chest.

Jonathan looked down at Y/n, her eyes glazed over and her body trembling with overstimulation.

“That's three,” he whispered, his voice rough with lust. “You can give me another one.”

Y/n couldn't form a coherent thought, her mind lost in a haze of pleasure as she felt Jonathan's cock pumping in and out of her. All she could do was moan and blabber.

"Is my patient all dumb, hmm?" Jonathan's voice was a low rumble as he held her face in his hand.

Y/n couldn't speak properly, her eyes rolling back into her head as he continued to thrust deep into her. She could feel his smile against her cheek as he looked down at her, the corners of his lips curling up in amusement.

Y/n's cunt was so overstimulated that it was numb with each thrust, but she could feel all the overwhelming pleasure that coursed through her body. She knew she wouldn't last much longer, her orgasm building up inside her like a storm brewing on the horizon.

“Fuck, already throbbing around me,” Jonathan muttered, mocking her. 'My sweet little patient is about to cum again, and it hasn't even been two minutes."

Jonathan felt his second orgasm nearing as Y/n was nearing her fourth. He gritted his teeth, his eyes darkening as he continued to pound into her.

“That's it, patient,” he muttered, his voice rough with desire. “Let it all out.”

Y/n's body arched sharply as her fourth orgasm crashed over her like a wave, her sobs of pleasure echoing in the room as Jonathan's own orgasm hit him like a bolt of lightning. He growled out her name, his heart pounding in his chest as he came, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm. They were both left panting and gasping for air, their bodies still pulsing with pleasure as they stared at each other in awe.

Jonathan stopped fucking Y/n and just held her, their bodies still pulsing with pleasure as they lay in a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, his voice rough with emotion as he whispered, “You did well, Y/n… my pretty patient..”

Jonathan gently pulled out, tenderly turning her over. In her dazed state, he handled her with utmost care, cradling her in his arms. Y/n snuggled closer to Jonathan, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Their clothes, damp with sweat, clung to their bodies.

"Do you want my help having a shower?" Jonathan inquired of Y/n.

"Mhmm, later," Y/n whimpered.

"You really should freshen up, my Dear," Jonathan insisted.

"I can barely fucking think, let alone stand. Later, please," Y/n whined, her eyes closed.

Jonathan sighed. “Hour rest, then you’re showering.”

“Okay, Dr. Crane,” Y/n murmurs, jokingly.

Jonathan chuckled softly, shaking his head, and simply held her close. Both of them knew that sex would now play a significant role in their relationship now, as neither could get enough of each other.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you liked it. I plan to make some more for this series and feel free to request other stories too. I can't imagine it being a long series but I do have plans to write more. 💚

I began writing the smut scene while the poll was still going, so I started with calling Jonathan Professor Crane as it was in front but it ended up being Dr. Crane in the end, so I adapted to that, thank you everyone for voting in that poll, I appreciate the help :)

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