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feninina · 4 months

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𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 ༉‧₊˚.⁀➷

𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗺𝘆 𝘀𝗵𝗲𝗹𝗯𝘆 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: desperately, you come to tommy shelby for help, hoping he would lend you a job that could finally free you from your sorrow, not knowing he had other things in mind.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: SMUT (minors dni!!!), heavy dubcon, mentions of sickness and death, poverty and slight angst. gunfucking, oral, implied dacryphilia, cheating, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, spitting.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 3.6K words.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: hi!! i was gone for a very long time but now i’m finally back, yayyy!! 😁 hope y’all enjoy this little thing i wrote, lmk if there’s a mistake, it’s always good to receive some feedback.

smut under the cut

It was a lovely afternoon outside, the sun bathed the streets of Birmingham with a warm shine, the birds chirped on the trees and the children played outside their classrooms. You wished nothing more but to be there, sitting between the flowers watching your students run and chase each other, listening to the sweets laughs that came out of their throats with every step they took, but instead, you were there, sitting in front of Thomas Shelby, and those, were no longer your students.

"Someone's here to see you" Lizzie Shelby announced to his husband moments prior, who was focused in the papers on his desk, not raising his eyes to meet his wife on the door of his office.

"Who?" he asked sharply, more interested on the work he was doing in that moment than any potential visitor.

Lizzie accustomed to his unwavering dedication to business, sighed softly as she stepped into the room, exposing you to his sight, standing timidly behind her, waiting for Tommy's approval to go inside. "It's your son's teacher"

Thomas Shelby finally tore his gaze away from the papers, a mixture of surprise and curiosity flickering through his eyes. "Yeah? Bring her in," he replied, setting aside his work momentarily, intrigued by the unexpected reunion.

Lizzie nodded before giving you an unenthusiastic look, gesturing you to go inside. You complied, smiling awkwardly at her and starting to walk towards the desk of the imposing man in front of you, who's only presence made you feel weak at the knees.

He stood, offering you his hand to take, stretching it with such a formality that made you regret coming here, to ask what you were about to ask.

"Miss" he said, clearly not even remembering your name. His tone was calm, but a hint of curiosity sounded clear in your ears as he spoke. "Is my son giving you trouble?"

Your fingers were trapped inside his large palm and your tumb brushed against his knuckles, making you sense how rough his hands actually were. The smell of smoke filled your nose and your mouth parted slitghly, not losing the sight of his mesmerizing blue eyes as your soft skin met his, a soft sigh coming out of your lips.

"No, sir" you said, your voice breathy as embarrassment ran through your whole body, you put your hands together in front of your legs as he let go of it, the feeling of his calloused skin lingering on yours. "Charles is an amazing student"

He sat again, gesturing for you to do the same, he knitted his eyebrows for a second, his silence feeling everlasting in your buzzing ears. You felt your whole face burn in anticipation, a knot in your stomach building since the moment your brain came up with this little twisted idea.

"Is he?" he asked with a light chuckle, lighting up a cigarette, you nodded. Once you were sitting, you crossed your legs so the shaking was less evident, putting your lips into a fine line when Tommy continued speaking. "Because I don't think you only came here to tell me what a great student my son is. Did you?"

Smoke came out of his velour lips along with his words, the grey cylindrical cloud making its way up to the ceiling and forming a faint curtain that enveloped the both of you. Still, even between the smoke that enveloped him, you could still feel his eyes burning holes through your skin, making you throw your head down, your gaze glued on your fidgeting hands that rested on your trembling lap.

"Actually, Mr. Shelby" you stuttered, raising your eyes for a moment to meet his stoic face. God, you felt pathetic. "I- I'm not Charles' teacher. Not anymore"

"Yeah?" he said, licking his lips. "What are you doing here, then?" his tone was plane, a little intimidating in your ears, and you were so nervous, that you didn't notice the amusement behind it. Him? He was having a blast. A little young beautiful thing like you sitting on his office, practically entering the wolves mouth by your own will.

You could feel the humiliation flow through your body as you tried to come up with a way to tell him what you needed— to do that beyond your beliefs request that you were there to do. And you stayed quiet, lost in your own thoughts, trying to come up with an idea to speak your mind.

You were desperate, you truly were.

Last week, your sister fell sick, and for her bad look, your family was poor. Starting with your already struggling parents and adding your low wage job to that, she would be death within the span of two months or less. You adored teaching, every little part of it, and the little payment wasn't really a problem to you, but that was before your sister contracted the fever.

Now, the bills were too much to handle, and your poor and elderly parents expected something out of you, to maybe ask for a little extra payment at the school, but you knew that wasn't possible, they barely payed you the minimum. But going against your instincts, you did as you were told, and asked for a raise, or, maybe an advanced payment— the only thing they gave you was a nice and simple "Clear up your desk".

It's an euphemism to say that your parents were disappointed. They supported you during the course of your teaching career because they held hope for you to marry a wealthy man, who would help you to support your family with their expenses, but that was very far away from reality.

It was unrealistic, to run into a man's arms just to save your penurious family from a dying child. You could do it, jump in with both feet into a marriage with no love just for the economical part, but what man, in his right mind, would marry a malnourished and poor woman like you? You weren't even that beautiful in your own eyes.

You were lost in your own thoughts, playing with your silk handkerchief between your fingers looking down at your lap. It was silly, even considering coming here, but this was your best choice.

Not the last— you could be a hostess, you could swipe floors and wash clothes, maybe even beg for your old job back, but you know that it won't pay the bills, it won't save your sister, but this? Oh yeah, this will.

You knew about the Peaky Blinders, everyone on Birmingham knew about them, and last year, you had the luck to teach the child of the one and only, Thomas Shelby. Charles was a well-behaved kid, it surprised you, to be honest, knowing the reputation attached to his last name you thought it would be a nightmare to have him in your classroom, but Charles was sweet, polite.

But beyond his good manners and perfect grades; you noticed, his shinning shoes. His fancy clothes. The endless talks he starred to the other kids about his father horses and his big house.

And you always despised the Shelbys, they were criminals, evil people. You were just another permanent victim of their damage to Birmingham, that's what you considered yourself and the other folks like you. It was just a logical thing; they profited by destroying the city, the city that you barely afforded to live in.

But now you wanted to be a part of them, because you knew that it could be the only way to save your sister. And you begged to god that Thomas Shelby would take pity on you and maybe hire you to at least wipe his floors.

You'll do anything.

"So," he said again, snapping you out of your intern turmoil "what are you doing here, ey? Wasting my time?"

You took a sharp breath, looking at him with those big, teary eyes that made him wish to jump to the other side of the desk and tear you apart, a big sigh leaving his lips at the delicious thought of laying his hands on your tender skin, that shinned like gold in his sight, to touch and mold it to his will.

But he stayed there, waiting for you to speak as he watched with that unsettling stare of his that made you wish you never came here in the first place as you opened your mouth and closed it again, trying to find a way to say— to ask what you came here to ask.

"I know that the pay here is good" you started, your body covered in a cold shiver that ran down your spine as you spoke. "And I really need the money-”

Your words came out rushed, your tongue pushing them our of your mouth before you could think twice about it, urging you to say them before the man in front of you would lose his patience and kick you out of his office.

But he didn’t speak, amused, looking you through the smoke of his cigarette, the corners of his lips twisting into a minacious smile, the way you struggled to talk, to look at his eyes, it all entertained him.

He was thinking, very carefully, about what to do with you. You were being ridiculous, of course, he had to suppress a laugh when he realized what you wanted, and if you were any other person you would be out of his office whitin the blink of an eye. But he was trying to decide what to do with you.

You were a lucky woman, he thought. Because, luckily for you, he was more focused on the way your dress hugged your body in all the right places, the bright red color of your cheeks and those eyes full of tears— Luckily for you, he meant no harm, but his thoughts weren’t exactly good ones.

“I want a job” You finally admitted, his silence only encouraged you to keep speaking, sighing heavily and feeling the urge to explain yourself to him, but he quickly cut you off the moment you opened your mouth to tell your tragic little story.

“I’m not hiring” his voice startled you, and that only sentence felt like a slap on the face. “And if I was, what can you do for me, ey?”

You finally broke down, tears falling down from your eyes as you couldn’t answer that, shaking your head and mouthing a little ‘I don’t know’, your voice coming out as a soft whimper, music to his ears.

“I really need the money, mr. Shelby-”

“We all need it, don’t we?” he said, putting out his cigarette as he leaned in, resting his arms on the desk, trying to get a clear view of you. “But do you know what we do, honey? Can you kill a man? Are you good with numbers?”

“I- I am” you pathetically tried to answer his second question, but he laughed at you, coldly. “I was a teacher- I can-”

“Nah, that’s not enough” he said, pursing his lips. He then reached for something in hip, making your blood run cold as you registered his movements and your brain understood what he was looking for.

When you saw it in his hands, tho, you nearly got up from the chair and ran away, but your legs were so shaky, that you just looked at him with pure terror, not knowing what was going to happen.

“Do you know how to handle one of these?” He asked roughly, putting the gun on the desk and you felt a deep sense of relief going down your body, but still, you were scared. You shook your head, unable to say any words.

“So, you came here to waste my time, after all” he snarked, leaning back on his chair with a cocky grin, making you shiver. You should have ran away from that room several minutes ago, but for some reason, you felt like he was luring you in into something you didn’t know about.

“I don’t want to waste your time, mr. Shelby, my sister, she’s sick-” your pleas felt like honey to his ears, and he couldn’t help but lift himself up from his seat and walk towards you, rounding the desk and grabbing the gun in the way.

“You came to me to help your sister” he repeated, like he was trying to understand your reasons, nodding as he stood there, besides you. You looked up to him timidly, bitting your lip. You wanted to notice about anything else than the silver weapon in his hand, but you couldn’t, your eyes were glued to it. “That’s a good girl”

You knitted your eyebrows at the shift of his tone of voice, the fear now twisting your stomach, and you couldn’t help the way you grimaced when he brushed his free hand through your hair, which made you look at him with a hint of curiosity, your venison eyes not leaving his face.

How clueless you were.

“I can help you” he told you, his caress suddenly turning into a strong grip on your hair, yanking it so you stood up in front of him, making you yelp in surprise. “But you’ll have to help me, too”

Suddenly, your whole body ran cold as you felt the cold metal of his gun trail along your thighs, a gasp leaving your lips as panic filled all of your senses, more tears gathering around your eyes.

Tommy groaned at the sight, dragging the pistol upwards, sneaking it inside of your dress and in between your legs, the sensation of the weapon resting right outside of your mound making your knees fail you, but lucky for you, his strong grip on your hair kept you steady.

“Mr. Shelby…” you pleaded, closing your eyes when he started to move the gun in a circular motion, making your mouth betray you and slip out a pretty moan, that made Tommy’s pants grow tight on him.

“You see, that lady out there, it’s my wife” he explained, making you open your eyes while you tried to understand him, the way he brushed your clit with every quick movement of the gun between your legs making your brain send waves of fear and pleasure through your body. “She doesn’t satisfy me, not anymore”

You nodded, your agape mouth liberating soft gasps for him to hear everytime he pressed the blade further against your cunt. You wished nothing more than to him to pull it away, but at the same time, you wanted to beg him to keep doing whatever he was doing.

You could feel your panties get stickier by the second, your wetness flowing out of your pussy with every passing second, and you breathed heavily, not sure of what to do.

“I’ll pay you a generous salary to do that” and with that, you nodded even more feverishly, the idea making you feel repulsed, but something about the way he touched you and talked to you made your insides pulse. “And I’ll use you as I please, got it?”

Tommy smiled, moving your panties to the side and running the barrel up and down through your folds, making your heart run in circles on your chest, but you swallowed the fear, something about him having total control of you now made you feel even more attracted to him.

“I do, mr. Shelby” you chocked out, bitting your lip when he pushed the barrel inside of your slick hole, your hands coming to wrap themselves around his arms when you felt the weapon stretch your pussy out, closing your eyes in pure bliss.

With a dry chuckle from him, he started pumping in and out the gun from your cunt, and you mouth hanged open as you tried to find some kind of steadiness by grabbing his arms. He noticed the gun get slippery by how wet you were, and his eyes were fixed on how your nipples were showing through the fabric of your pretty dress.

A loud click from the gun made you open your eyes, but that didn’t stop the way your hips jerked against his relentlessly movements, the fear mixing with the pure pleasure you felt— and he, with those cold, blue eyes of his examining you, had you right there where he wanted you from the moment he saw those big and hot tears leave those eyes of yours. At his full and complete mercy. For him to use and abuse.

“You like this, don’t you?” he murmured, working the gun even faster, sensing how agitated he had you, the sight of you being completely lost at the feeling making him laugh a little. “You are a good little whore”

You nodded, your hands traveling to his shoulders as you had spread your legs even further, begging for him to not stop, the sound of your whimpers fulfilling him, doing unspeakable things to Tommy that you didn’t even imagine, but you would find out any time soon.

“You are, yeah?” he continued, and then you thought he would go easier, he trusted the gun more aggressively, making sinful sounds that made you blush at how wet you were, and then he leaned down, yanking your hair harder than before when he clashed his lips with yours.

You moaned into the kiss, letting him move his lips against your open mouth, your tongues dancing with each other at the rhythm of the forbidden song your body played everytime the gun entered and slipped outside of you, making your way through your orgasm.

His lips were soft against yours, his teeth making the slightest contact with your lower lip, the way he kissed you so tenderly made your stomach twist even more, pressing your eyes shut as you could feel your insides twitch and squeeze against the gun.

When he pulled away, you looked for his lips again only to find a teasing smile from him in return, one that made you feel tiny in his arms. And when you were about to beg for more, he pushed the barrel even deeper, only a moan coming out of your lips.

“Your body will be only mine to use” he whispered against your mouth, and by how hard he was pulling your hair, you feared that he would rip it out of your scalp. “You’re my property now, do you understand?”

You nodded, not wanting him to stop, your tongue pocking out of your mouth by how much you were moaning, a sigh of relief leaving your when his hand freed your hair, only to grip your jaw, keeping your mouth open. You knitted your eyebrows in confusion, one that was erased away when you felt his cold saliva on your tongue after he spited on it, closing your mouth with his hand to make you swallow it.

“Such a pretty girl” he whispered, moving the weapon even faster, fucking you mercilessly with it. “Going to come? Cream my gun?”

You nodded, moaning desperately as you could feel your climax approaching, pressing your body against his when you knew that your orgasm was close, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he pulled you by the arm and bent you over the desk, pushing your dress out of the way as he kneeled over, admiring the way your pussy sucked the barrel of the gun so heavenly, switching the angle so suddenly that it made you see stars.

“So good, you’re doing so good” he moaned out, spreading your folds with his other hand to have a more clear view of your swollen cunt, bitting his lip at how soaked it was, his mouth practically watering at the sight.

“Mr. Shelby” you moaned, closing your eyes as you could feel drool dripping from your mouth, wetting the papers he had on his desk. “Mr. Shelby, I’m close”

He smiled, licking his lips as he leaned in, his hand still fucking you with the gun in a pace that made you shake, shiver and scream. He was rough, unforgiving and brisk with his movements, so it surprised you when you felt the tenderness of his lips suck so gently on your pulsating and unattended clit.

The moan that left your lips was so loud, that you would hear surprised if Lizzie Shelby hadn’t heard you on the outsides of the office by now. And you couldn’t care, because with Tommy doing God’s work on your pussy like that, even if your sister died now, you wouldn’t give a fuck.

You arched your back against his face, moving your hips erratically against the gun, feeling your orgasm finally unleash and hit you with an animalistic force, painting his gun white as you soaked up his face, and he drank it all, thirsty for you.

“Oh, God” you mewled, bitting your lip, never feeling something so intense before. He let go of your clit with a loud sound of his lips, chuckling when he heard you.

He shook his head, helping you ride out your orgasm, moving the gun more slowly before finally pulling it out. He was going to take good care of you, and you felt relieved; he was going to save your sister, and also, fuck you so good.

“Don’t call for him, sweetheart” he said, and you looked up at him in confusion from your position in the desk. Your heart sinked in your chest while your stomach churned with excitement when he put the gun beside you on the desk and began to unbuckle his belt. “God won’t hear you here, only I will”

thanks for reading, w/ love, fenina 😌

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy x reader #feninina #cillian murphy x oc #tommy shelby x reader #cillian smut #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #cillian murphy fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby smut

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feninina · 8 months

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𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐭𝐞 ༉‧₊˚.⁀➷

therapist! jonathan crane x female reader.

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: when your father decided that you needed therapy, taking you to his dear friend dr. crane to treat and help you, you thought it wouldn't work at all, but it turned out to be everything you needed.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: SMUT(minors dni!!), noncon/dubcon, depression, cursing, crane is a mysoginistic prick, using therapy for unhinged reasons, smut, hair pulling, jonathan just being an creep, choking AND strangulation, dacryphilia, hitting, unprotected sex (safe sex its great sex!!), breeding kink, forced breeding, power dynamics, i think crane should be a warning himself, reader being borderline stupid and naive. also this has a lot of backstory i’m so sorry i got carried away lol.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 7.1K

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: omg my first fic on here!! this is also my first work on english and my first smut ever so i apologise in advance for any mistake!! i hope y'all enjoy it anyways ahahahaha live laugh love jonathan crane👏🏻 feedback its very appreciated so i can improve and continue to publish better works, anyways enjoyyyy 💓

𝘀𝗺𝘂𝘁 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗰𝘂𝘁

It was awkward, to say the least.

You were sitting across from Doctor Crane in the couch at your dad's house, legs crossed as you watched him write on his clipboard, something about it making you feel anxious, a little nauseous, even.

This wasn't your first session, you started doing this four months ago, not long after your divorce that caused you to fall into a spiral of sadness and misery. Your failed— and short marriage was the main reason you started taking therapy with your dad's friend, the chief of Arkham, Jonathan Crane, and still, you couldn't bring yourself to talk about it.

He was patient, you told him several times that he was a saint. Regardless, before you started with the sessions, he explained to your dad that he didn't really do this; therapy really wasn't his strong suit, but for a friend, a desperate one, he would gladly do it.

Your dad came to him, offering a big stack of money if he would talk to his little girl, make her recover her once joyful personality, like you had one to begin with. Jonathan really couldn't say no, and not really because of the money, he had other reasons in mind, unethical reasons.

And there you were now. You were quick to open up to him, eager to talk, to be listened and he, on the other hand, was ready to listen, to give you advice, console you and help you get through the sorrow that was following you since you were young, playing the role of your knight in shinning armor.

"I can't believe you don't actually do this" you said once, sniffling your nose with a handkerchief he gave you as he examined you with a warm gaze, an empathetic grin on his face. "You're really helping me"

Jonathan was quick to wave his hand and tell you that it wasn't a big deal, that he was just doing his job, and if you weren't so innocent, so stupid, you would have noticed the mischievous sparkle that flickered in his eyes for a split second.

You were landing right in the palm of his hand.

Not even thirty minutes into the first session you told him everything about your past; every little thing you thought he needed to know to treat you. And you were slightly right; he did need to know those things, but not to treat you, just to manipulate you and mold your little brain into what he was envisioning for you and your future together.

Truth was, you hated everything about your life, regardless of the fact that you had everything. That's what you've been told since you were a child; a big house, a lot of money, maids taking care of you so you wouldn't have to move a finger and just sit pretty and relax inside the walls of the huge mansion that confined you since you could recall.

You have everything. That was bullshit.

Sometimes, you couldn't help but think that people told you that out of pity, like they knew how miserable you felt, but not daring to say a word about it. Your dad was a powerful man, and you were aware of that, ever since you were born, he had bussines with Falcone and you knew that people feared him, he practically ruled Gotham, that lifeless and dangerous city that you had to live in.

You have everything. You were tired of that sentence. You didn't care at all about these nice things surrounding you, those dresses in your closet, those diamonds in your jeweler, that fancy car you owned since your eighteenth birthday, no, that was useless in your eyes, because all you really wanted, was love.

It was a lonely life; you learned how to do everything by yourself, how to comb your hair, how to deal with your period when it first came, how to dress up properly and do your makeup. You didn't even had to learn about boy problems because there weren't any boys in your life, you were homeschooled. So you were quiet, not really having to talk at all, there was nobody to talk to.

And since Jonathan was the only person you were talking to at the moment, you started to feel like you loved him, the idea sitting right with you without you even knowing it, thinking that this was how therapy normally went.

Loneliness striked your life at a young age; your mother died from a strange disease when you were eight, leaving you with a shattered heart thad bled everytime you walked past her bedroom, or saw a picture of her. You practically watched her die, a witness of how she lost her strength, how her once beautiful skin turned pale and yellow, and lost every little spark within herself, and the worst part was that all the money you had, couldn't even help her.

It was a deep wound that you carried with yourself, with nobody to talk about it.

Your father spent his days locked up in his office, and when he wasn't there, he was out in the city doing unthinkable things that you didn't even wanted to know about, leaving you on your own, having to fill all of those silent and empty rooms by yourself, with nobody to laugh with, nobody to hold you and see you grow. He wasn't really around, working all the time, too busy to know that his daughter didn't seem to care about all the expensive stuff he bought for her, not even taking the time to have dinner with you or hold a simple conversation. He loved you, you knew that, he just wasn't the type to show his affection with words or actions, but with gifts. And you hated everything about it.

But now, Jonathan was there, making you feel listened, finally saving you from falling into loneliness again. Your whole life, you thought you had a horrible sickness, that you were doomed to this awful destiny of sorrow and silence, but now, with his sweet words and good company, you couldn't be more than relieved.

You wished sometimes that you met him earlier, that this whole therapy stuff started before, and you even confessed it to him. And it irked him a little, that you didn't even remember how you two really met each other, hiding his annoyance with a warm smile.

Some months ago, your father started to brought you to parties he attended, parties were all the corrupts scumbags from Gotham reunited and celebrated how they were dragging the city to the gates of hell on their benefit, and you couldn't be more happy to attend them. You knew he was bringing you because he recently broke up with the young girl he carried with him— that was most likely your age, and needed a pretty thing to hang of his arm and take care of the people he didn't feel like talking to.

So you accepted this new life, eating up this role of socialite like it was made for you.

It was a chance to know people, to speak and make new friends, but you learned quickly that those people weren't there for that, and picked up on how mostly of the people who talked to you just wanted to climb up the social ladder and gain some extra points from your father.

He, even, introduced you to a couple of people that seemed close to your age, and you chatted with them, feeling extremely anxious because you weren't used to this, so it was weird to them seeing such a pretty woman, with your status and fortune, acting so shy and quiet in a place that your dad practically owned.

After a couple of hours, you learned the agenda. All you had to do was put on a fake smile, get them off your father's shoulders and pretend you were very interested in what they had to say, hiding your uncomfortable expression behind your glass of champagne, promising them that you would arrange a reunion with your father someday.

One of those nights, your father introduced you to someone, someone who you didn't pay much attention because he seemed to be uninterested too, only being there for the sake of his job.

"Pretty girl, come here" your father said, a cheerful tone of voice as grabbed you by the shoulder to get your attention, snapping you out of your train of thoughts. "I want you to meet my friend, Doctor Crane"

You looked at the man in front of your dad, his pale blue eyes already sizing you up discretely, looking at you up and down in a way that didn't go unnoticed by you, a shiver running down your spine as his eyes finally locked with yours.

You couldn't help but feel small under his gaze, your glass now forgotten in your left hand, the right one extended to take his and stretch it for a quick second, returning to your first position, his expression remaining serious.

"Nice to meet you" he spoke, his voice sounding like velvet in your eyes, not quite sensing the undertone behind it. "Your father told me wonders about you"

You grin, the irony of that sentence making you laugh a little, what wonders could your father know about you? But you kept your composure, the conversation not going any further, and you forgot about him fast enough, when in another of those annoying parties you met the love of your life — or so you thought.

That same night, when you went back home, you were thinking about spending the rest of your life with some guy that flirted with you at the bar, and Jonathan, prayed to whatever thing listening to him up there, that crossed your path with his again.

He practically obsessed with you, because it felt right. You were young, beautiful, wealthy and had a last name that could open even more doors for him, getting tired of saving Falcone's man of going to jail; you were an opportunity, tied to a nice pair of legs.

After a few weeks of stalking, it kinda broke his heart that naive as he expected you, you got married to the guy from the party; he told you then his name was Lewis, and now you doubted it that was even true.

You were finally going to get what you always wished for, a family, love. And it was perfect. Everything was perfect.

It was a dream that you were living in. A dream that shattered in front of you no longer than three months after.

After you contracted married with this man, you took care of the house, now learning all of these housewife duties that you didn't know anything about, but making your best effort to please him, to be the perfect woman ever created, departing from your old life and habits and adjusting them to his own.

You couldn't be more happy, regardless of your bad cooking, the bad-swiped floor and the half-done bed that welcomed you both every night, you finally had love.

It lasted three months. Your wholesome real life fantasy of a marriage destroyed when you found out, accidentally, that this man was just an employee of your dad, willing to get a promotion if he married you. At that moment, you didn't know who you hated more, if the bastard, or your dad who was literally bribing the bastard to love you.

But your dad only wanted to make you happy, tho.

You were embarrassed, not quite sure of how to tell this to Jonathan, because after all, he was there for you, just for the money your dad was paying him. Your cursed the day your dad became rich, because all of it was making you miserable and it felt like it wasn't going to stop.

At this point, a feeling of despite against you was growing within Jonathan, after a few weeks treating you, he quickly remembered why he didn’t chose this path of career, but remembering that he was there because of a major reason; a reason more important than your helpless cries for attention.

He was sick of you, all you ever did was complain in the commodity of your million dollar house, unaware that there were more important problems in the world. It isn’t completely your fault, Jonathan thought one day, you were just an ungrateful brat, and his work was to tame you, and he planned to do just that today.

"So," he startled you, narrowing his eyebrows, an expression in his face that you could only understand as concern. "remember, if you don't speak, I can't help you".

You chuckle and shift your weight in the chair, immediately feeling your eyes fill up with tears as you confronted the fact that you had to speak about it, right now. He was quick to offer you his handkerchief, as he always did and with shaky hands you took it, sniffling onto it, closing your eyes as you felt your whole body shake with each one of your cries.

You felt Jonathan put his hand on your knee, softy caressing the skin that his thumb could reach, opening your eyes and looking at his, Jonathan welcoming you with a pitying look. You put the tissue aside, both him being so close and his scent impregnated on the piece of fabric making you feel a little giddy, a little confused.

Why was your heart racing so much? He was your therapist, here to talk about your former husband.

Jonathan couldn't help but grin a little, knowing he was maybe breaking a rule here, touching you like this, being so close. He couldn't care less, after all, he wasn't here listening to you cry and bitch about your whole life for the sake of your well-being. He was here because he wanted you to break and get on your knees to him. Figuratively and literally.

"It's so embarrassing" you struggled to spit out "He didn't even love me, Doctor"

He hummed, dragging his chair so he was a little closer to you, you looked at him through your teary lashes and tried to keep it together, this wasn't the first time you cried in front of him, but the reason itself was enough to make you feel full of shame.

He didn't say anything, this being a motivation for you to continue.

"My dad was paying him" you murmured, cleaning the mascara off your cheeks. "It was all a lie"

The whole situation was absurd, what happened to you still felt like a sick joke they were playing on you, your dad and Lewis, probably waiting for the perfect moment to tell you the truth.

But that wasn't going to happen, right now the only thing that felt true to you was Jonathan. He set you up to that, and you blindly fell on his silly trap.

"Poor thing" he cooed you, moving his hand a little further up your thigh, noticing the goosebumps on your skin. A mastermind, that's how he felt. "How could they?"

That was all the mendacity he fed you with since you started seeing him, making you believe he was actually empathizing with you, full of loathe against everyone who hurt you, who dared to leave you alone, but now he was there, his task being to pretend to care.

"It's pathetic" you blurted out, leaning into his touch when his prying hand went up to your cheek. You really couldn't say anything more, crying against his hand like it was something you did every monday morning. "I'm so sad. I don't know what to do"

He shook his face, your eyes meeting his with a confused expression, black stained tears dropping on your lap and wetting his hand before he returned it and looked over his clipboard, pretending to think.

You were so vulnerable, ready for him to destroy. He finally got you where he wanted. He then explained you that you were so sad that it made you unaware of a lot of things, blinded by your own pity against yourself that every door that opened, you closed. It all came down to a thing; you needed a diagnosis.

He gave you a moment to process the information, ready to continue with his plan.

"Actually," he started, his tone now more firm, more strict, the one he used when you were approaching the end of the session. On the last one, he recommended you to touch yourself, to liberate oxytocin on your brain or something you really didn't understood.

It was almost evil from his side, he knew that your only thought while doing it would he him ordering you to do so.

"I'm sorry to be the bearer of such awful news, Y/N" he stated, making your heart skip a beat. "But I think you're sick"

You nearly gasped, the air got stuck in your throat, more tears gathering in your eyes. You lifted one of your hands to your chest, a million thoughts crossing your head as Jonathan's clever eyes examined your expression.

Bingo.

"Sick" you repeated after a moment, almost like you were making peace with the revelation. "How sick?"

It was an innocent question, your tone of voice shaking as your inferior lip trembled, holding it with your teeth in an attempt to not burst into tears again, your whole body feeling like it was going to break into a million peaces by how much you were shaking in the couch.

Jonathan was quick, standing from the chair he was on and taking a seat by your side, his hand swiftly placing in your knee. You looked at him confused, he never got this close, maybe your sickness was serious.

"What am I, Doctor?" you whispered, your eyes showing him a hint of fear that made him finally lose all his faked professionalism. "Depressed? Crazy?"

Both of you were dying of anticipation now; meanwhile you feared that you were going to get admitted to Arkham, Jonathan was seeing the golden ticket to the best future he could ever achieve, and all thanks to you.

"Oh, no, no" he purred, his hand making its way up to your thigh. "You're sick, not crazy"

You parted your lips as his hand moved more further, not really sure of what was happening, not daring to stop him, too scared of your mental health to think about anything else, not helping the way your legs started to part too.

A sudden gasp left your lips as his hand squeezed your tight, a smile you never saw on him appearing on his face. The crying stopped a moment ago, the surprise of having him so close making you go a little numb.

"I know what a girl like you needs" he said, almost sternly, like his hand wasn't centimeters away from your panties.

Was in that moment, that you knew this wasn’t about therapy anymore.

"You think so?" you whispered, your voice still shaky, but now for a whole different reason. "And what is it, Doctor?"

"To be fucked stupid"

It almost shocked you how he said that as it was a normal diagnosis, like he gave you a name of a medicine you could go and buy at any drugstore in town. You gulped and didn't move when his grip tightened on your leg, your face growing red.

A loud gasp escaped your lips when at your lack of response, Jonathan grabbed you hard by the jaw and forced you to look at him. Your eyes glistened with nothing but fear, your brows narrowing as you mumbled something that he really couldn't understand, and it wasn't like he wanted to.

"You're sick, Y/N" he repeated, more harshly this time, his hand moving your head as he spoke. "And I'm going to cure you"

He let go of your face to clasp his lips against yours, a kiss very far away from sweet, his mouth moving roughly against yours. You never had been kissed like this, so you tried to play it along, trying to show him some of the love you felt for him, that you thought you owed him.

But he didn't care if you felt loved during the kiss, trying to assert the dominance he held upon you, his hand now holding firmly the back of you neck to prevent you from pulling away.

It was a mess; your teeth clashed, drool was dripping from your chin as his tongue explored every space of your mouth, not leaving anywhere of it untouched. Your movements were a little stiff, unsure of what to do, trying to provide the sweetness that he lacked.

His hand moved to your the front of your neck and squeezed it a little, making you yelp in surprise, the sound muffled by his mouth. You tried to get away from the kiss, confused about his rough actions against you, a little scared of him even, almost like you didn’t trust him every little part of your brain in this same couch for the last couple of months.

But then it clicked on your foggy brain, he knew you, perfectly— you only knew his name, you didn’t know what this man was capable of.

You could only move a few centimeters away from his hungry mouth, your lips parted as tears welled in your eyes from the pressure he was applying to your neck.

“Stop” you managed to stutter, your breath mixing with his. “I can’t- breathe”

You doubted that he listened to you, your voice not coming out of your throat at all and getting stuck in your larynx, your voice-box completely muffled by his strong grip.

“Shut up, brat” he spitted, his tone sounding full of abhor, your eyes wide open as you felt the air leaving your body and your lungs starting to burn. “Always getting what you want”

You weakly placed one of your hands around his wrist, another attempt of gasp elicited from your agape mouth as he lifted his other hand and choked you with both, something in your dizzy mind telling you that he was possessed.

“Crying all the time- complaining” he continued, not caring if you were listening, the suffocation being to much to bare now. “So selfish”

And maybe he was.

Your brain was filled with fear, wondering how it all went from a kiss to this— almost getting killed by your therapist in your couch. You opened your eyes to meet his, feeling like your chest was on fire as there wasn’t any air flowing in, seeing how the blue of Jonathan’s eyes has darkened and his lips were parted as well, the muscles of his jaw twitching as he choked you to death.

Your eyebrows narrowed together in terror as you noticed that familiar tingly sensation in your lower belly and your thighs clenching together. Maybe it was something about him exercising this power over you, how you felt so feeble under his touch, that was probably leaving bruises on your neck for you to carry and show around what he was making you do it.

You didn’t have enough time to think about it, you were practically dying.

“And you are enjoying this?” he said with an amused tone, probably noticing how your thighs fragily contracted against one another.

You felt yourself slowly lose your consciousness when finally the relief came and the air started to flow again to your desperate lungs, taking long and loud puffs of air when his hand let go of your neck. Your erratic breath was interrupted by a loud moan that escaped you when Crane yanked you by your hair and shoved you to the floor.

He was quick yo position you between his legs, looking at you through his unfixed glasses, giving you a twisted smile that made you quiver in fear, that growing wet patch on your panties making you feel like a really sick girl.

“Doctor-” you mumbled, closing your eyes as he pulled your hair, withdrawing a mewl off your mouth. “Hurts”

“You talk when I tell you to talk” he snickered, adjusting the way his fingers gripped your hair. You thought that he might just pull out the strand he was tugging. “I’m sick of your whining”

You felt more tears well up in your eyes; not sure if it was from the pain in your head or how his words felt like a knife that landed right on your heart. You were confused, sad, angry— a little hot, too.

“I pay you yo listen to me” you said, your voice so shaky you were lucky he could understand you. You wished he didn’t understand you.

Another sort of moan left your lips as a hard slap made a landing in your cheek, your face turned to the side because of the impact. You closed your eyes in disbelief, a cry coming out as you felt helpless, wondering if this was some exposure therapy he was experimenting on you.

He repeated himself, instructing you to talk only when you were told so, nodding in defeat as you accepted whatever this was and continued to play along with Jonathan’s sick fantasy of controlling you, without even knowing it.

You looked at him with nothing but inquietude, the look in his eyes giving you the foreboding that nothing good was about to happen now, frightened of what we would do to you.

He didn’t show any hints of letting go of your hair anytime soon, just holding it firmly to keep you looking at him through your heavy lashes, a wicked grin on his smug face.

“Let’s give that whining mouth of yours a good use” he said, and you gulped, understanding what he wanted and quivering in fear, not really understanding why the sticky sensation between your legs grew.

“Undo my pants” he commanded, and you stayed still, your eyes not leaving his even when another slap landed on your tear-wet face. “Do as you’re told, brat. This might be your only cure”

You couldn’t help but sob a little, his tone sounding so definitive, so professional. Your trembling hands reached his belt and unbuckling it ungracefully, taking longer than he expected, you heard him chuckle as you unbuttoned his pants afterwards, then putting your hands back in front of your lap.

“C’mon” he pulled your hair again, causing you to moan in pain. “Don’t make me tell you what to do”

You looked at him again in nothing but shame, trying to resist to this humiliating request of his, but complying it anyways. He said he was going to cure you, but now you doubted it, right now, you only wanted this to be over.

With a last look at his eyes you returned your attention to the growing bulge in his slacks, the shame in your brain being present at all times, not quite helping the way your eyes were fixated on his clothed member. You were quick to free him out after your staring earned you a other harsh pull of hair, your lips turned into a line when his cock slapped his abdomen, causing his dress shirt to wrinkle a little.

“Go on, Y/N” he encouraged you, as you looked at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him for mercy, knowing that even if you screamed it at him, he just wouldn’t listen. “This isn’t about what you want, anymore. Is about what you need”

A tear slid from your eyes and disappeared down your cheek when his free hand placed the tip of his hard cock on your parted lips, gesturing you to take it and not waste more of his time— more than you already did.

“Open up, whore” he said under his breath, using your hair as a device to move your head and help you shove his length down your throat. You complied, the tears in your eyes now soaking in you cheeks by the effort that you were making trying to welcome his thick shaft down your mouth.

You were sure you scratched him with your teeth a few times as he bobbed your head up and down with his strong hand, manhandling you without care for his own pleasure. You placed your hands on his knees, trying not to gag, but when his tip touched the bottom of your throat, you couldn’t help it.

You cried as you felt suffocated again, now for a whole different reason, a more humiliating one, and you almost wished he killed you then. His hips buckled everytime your lips reached the base of his cock, the room filled with the sounds of your mouth and saliva coating his shaft and the soft moans that came out of his poisoned lips.

“Take it, whore” he said, his voice now husky and distorted by the pleasure, the pain that your teeth accidentally inflicted on him turning him even more. “God- you are horrible at this”

He chuckled between heavy breaths, pulling you by the hair and releasing his cock from your mouth, a vulgar pop filling both of your ears at the sudden separation of your lips and his member. Your eyes looked at the floor, feeling such a shame that the mere thought of meeting his face with your fearful face made you cringe, the pulsating pain on the back of your head making you dizzy.

“You can’t suck dick properly” he said, his tone sounding like he was making fun of you. “No wonder why your husband left you. You’re just pathetic”

You finally rose up your face to look at that insufferable smile of his, ignoring the way his cock was still hanging there in front of you, almost brushing your nose. His fingers finally untangled from your hair and giving you some sort of solace, the consolation that this traumatic session was over.

Maybe the remedy was worse than the sickness itself.

“Jonathan, stop it, plea-”

Your imploration was completely ignored, followed by another slap on your wet cheek that made you cry even more, not understanding how this man could’ve been the same one who made you felt loved and finally listened. You fell for a lie once again.

“Get on the couch” he simply said, his words were like a bucket of cold water fell on you. “Stop the bitching, don’t want to hear it”

“And I’m your doctor. Not Jonathan” he reminded you, making you feel even more ashamed.

You did as he told, again, half-standing from the floor and sitting next to him, trying to take as much space from him as you could before he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer, your face growing red as his face was now centimeters away from yours.

“You look so beautiful when you cry” he whispered, caressing your face but trying to nor wipe the tears away, almost like he was admiring you. It made you melt into his touch, glad that his kind demeanor was there again. Even if his words made you cringe— and the fact that his cock was still out, you felt your heart grew warmer by the way he tenderly touched you.

It didn’t last much longer, when his lips twitched into a malicious smile and went down to nibble your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses around the bruised skin and bitting where his fingers hurt you previously, making your fingers wrap on his hair and cry for mercy, trying for him to stop hurting you this much.

“Shut up, stupid brat” he repeated that same insult, making you swallow your cries, closing your eyes in disbelief as he continued to injure your already suffering skin.

You arched your back in surprise when all of the sudden his hands reached for your breasts, groping your tits like his life depending on it, stimulating you through the fabric of your shirt, but all you felt was fear and anger, impotence flowing through your veins because you just couldn’t scream and push him away, fear was freezing you on the spot.

The worst part? You maybe didn’t wanted to push him away. Because maybe if he gets what he wants now you would be cured and he’ll be back to normal, returning you the sweet Doctor Crane that you met once, not this monster that was groping you like a piece of meat.

He clicked his tongue and dropped both of his hands to spread your legs open, forcing your back to drop onto the hand rester of the couch. You looked at him with big eyes, your heart felt like it was going to jump out of your chest and scream to Jonathan that enough was enough, you just couldn’t take any of this anymore.

But your heart stayed there, between your lungs that seemed incapable to hold any air, making your breathing erratic. So nobody screamed Jonathan to stop, and he continued with his profanation against your persona— your dignity.

He bit his lip at the sight of your fucked-up face, your legs open as it showed him the dark patch on your baby blue panties, darting his eyes from your half-exposed crotch to your teary eyes.

“God, keep crying and I might come now” he growled, lowering his face to meet your pussy, kissing it through your underwear, making you mewl, closing your eyes at the sudden attention your core was getting.

You felt embarrassed at how much you enjoyed when he moved the fabric to the side and started making out with your cunt, swallowing your fluids like a starved man.

“So wet” he mumbled against your labia, the vibration making your eyes roll back, bitting your lip to prevent any moan to come out; he was raping you, why did he make you enjoy it? “I bet you like this, to be treated like a whore”

You shook your head, more tears falling out of your eyes as you felt nothing else but humiliation, pleasure washing over your body everytime his tongue brushed your clit, your back arched against nothing.

“You like it?” he said, finally pulling out and pushing his body up so his face was in front of yours, his cock grazing against your now stimulated pussy, a gasp leaving your lips, a gasp that quickly turned into a hurting moan when his hand slapped you again, this time in your throbbing cunt. “Answer me”

“I- I do” you whispered, gripping his shoulders when you felt him align the head of his member with your whole, scared of how it was going to fit. You had trouble taking it when he face-fucked you, how the fuck it was going to fit down there?

“I’m going to fuck you so good” he whispered between pants, jerking himself off before entering you. “You’re going to forget that pathetic husband of yours”

You couldn’t help but cry, trying to push him off by the shoulders, a terrified look on your face. “It won’t fit, Doctor” you pleaded, a crooked grin on his face as you keep on calling him that. “I beg you, don’t-”

“Yes, beg me” he said, starting to push his member inside you with a slow but relentlessly pace, not giving you enough time to adjust, just to scream and hit him weakly on the chest, face and shoulders before ge grabbed your hands and pinned them down, on the sides of your body. “I’m going to cure you- do you so good”

His voice was low, as he barely could speak when he felt just how tight you were, your walls hugging his cock just the right way, his pulsating head making your mind dizzy, the stinging pain starting to be forgotten.

But when he slid out and entered back it, the hardness of his movement made your insides burn with pain, a loud cry echoing in the walls of the living room as he started to trust into your pussy with a fast pace, not caring at all if you felt good.

He snapped his hips against yours with an animalistic force, growls escaped from his mouth every time his cock was welcomed by the warmth of your stretch whole, the sensation making him go even more feral, making you cry more.

He let go of one of your hands and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at his eyes as he fucked you vigorously, the blue on his iris not existent anymore, only his widely dilated pupils meeting yours, your blurred vision distinguishing the depraved expression in his face.

“You- so tight” he snarled, his voice barely audible, covered by the sound of skin slapping and your loud cries. “I bet your stupid husband didn’t fuck you like this”

You felt nothing but shame as you felt his cock now sliding in and out more easily, the wetness of your cunt growing as he spoke to you like that, that familiar heat flourishing in your lower belly as his words degraded you, your cries quickly becoming moans.

“This was all you needed- fuck” he said, his spit splashing your face as he talked, his words full of disdain. “A good dick, that’s all it takes to keep bitches like you quiet” You nodded, thinking that if you agreed he would stop. How wrong you were.

In a quick movement Jonathan took his cock out and spun you around, not giving you time to get on your ass up by laying your chest down before he stabbed your hole again, pushing your skirt all the way up to see how his pelvis came into collision with your ass.

You were moaning like a bitch in heat now, sure that the maids were listening, not really caring about it anymore. Jonathan was fucking you nice and hard, your mouth wide open as his tip brushed your cervix, screaming to him to keep it right there.

“I’m close” he said, pulling your hair back to press his chest to your back, his other hand going down to play with your swollen clit, wanting your to come around his cock like the slut he knew you were. “Come with me, you whore”

“Yes” you moaned, your tongue out as his cock hit the right spots, making your hips to move against his, grinding against his hand and dick, feeling your wetness drip down to your thighs. “Yes, yes, I want to”

He laughed, approaching your ear with his tongue to bite it, leaving a long and wet kiss underneath it that made you grow hotter, your eyes closed as you let him use you; the only thought in your mind being him and his wonder-working cock.

Truth was, he was fucking you stiffly, every slam of his hips stronger than the last one, but you were so deprived of touch, so dick-starved, that even if Jonathan was fucking you like a lifeless doll, only for the sake of his pleasure, you loved it, even when it hurt you.

“I’m going to fill you up” he said against your ear, his hand leaving your clit unattended as he grabbed your hip to increase the velocity of his thrusts, ramming your hole like a demented man, making your head drop against his shoulder and scream at the ceiling, now knowing what he meant by curing you.

“Going to get you pregnant” he said, more to himself than anything “so you don’t have to bitch about being alone anymore”

You opened your eyes with terror, you didn’t want children, you were so young. The idea made you frightened, the moaning now sounding like little nos and pull outs, but Jonathan didn’t listen.

“Doctor please, please, pull out” you pleaded, reaching for his hips and trying to push him away, one of his hands slapping your ass and pulling you down by your shoulder blade so you wouldn’t fight anymore. “Doctor Crane please”

“I will fucking fill you up, Y/N” he chanted, laughing at the idea of your round belly and your swollen tits, carrying his baby all day and feeling all worked up and needy all day, only waiting for him to fuck you all day. “You won’t be alone again. You won’t be sad again”

Then you realized it.

When he came, your hot walls creamed every single drop of his cum, making his thrusts sloppy and slow, his moans filling your ears as you sobbed under his touch, feeling his seed paint your walls and load your insides with his sperm.

That was your cure.

His hot release that now flooded inside your leaking cunt, that was your so-promised antidote. He took away your solitude by giving you his and yours firstborn, a bastard baby that would give you the company that you lacked.

You felt him chuckle as he rode out his high, the chase of his own climax made you forget yours, so now there you were, your swollen cunt looking for its release while his rested among your insides calmly, like it was meant to be.

He didn’t pull out immediately, taking his time to appreciate the sight of your skirt resting in your hips all rolled up, your bruised neck and messy hair, the way your ass was exposed to him by the way he had you arching your back. All for him— for him to wreck.

He pulled out and rolled his eyes when you started crying, now being annoying instead of hot. You sat on the couch and saw him button his pants and fix his hair, hissing when you felt nothing but pain growing in your worn-out pussy. You explained through your weak voice how he ruined your life, that he was the worst person you’ve ever met and that now you had to carry the product of his sick and twisted rapist-fantasy, even tried to hit him, but your pathetic tantrum only gained you another slap in the face, and a stern look.

When he tried to stand up and leave, you grabbed him by the wrist and begged him not to, he couldn’t just leave you, not now, not ever.

“Don’t be so ungrateful” he said, a smile that made you feel nothing but trepidation in his face. “You’ll never be alone again”

You couldn’t help but feel scared. Scared of him, of what just happened, of what’s going to happen next, scared for your future son with this evil specie of a man.

When you continued to cry, and he pulled you for a hug as he assured you that he would never leave you; and how could he? He had a long life of success waiting for him now, giving a girl of your status his last name, his children. Oh, it’s going to be wonderful, he just needed to tame you and make you the perfect slave for him, and that wasn’t going to be hard.

You were sure that you’ll never be loved, but at least now Jonathan was going to be with you. You’ll never be alone again.

thanks for reading. w/love, fenina;)

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