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southern-fried-simpin · 9 months

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Doctor-Patient Confidentiality | BTAA!Scarecrow x fem!reader

A/N: Hey y’all look I’m writing again lol

Warning(s): Implied doctor-patient relationship kinda thing, floof with some suggestive stuff, mentions of implied abusive relationship, therapy stuff, unethical practices technically, this might be a little cheesy 😅

Should you really be wearing a new dress and heels that you bought for “no reason” just to see your doctor? No, probably not. However, he probably shouldn’t be recommending you other doctors “in case you feel like you need a second opinion on…anything” either.

To anyone else, it would sound like he found that you were in need of some sort of specialized treatment he couldn’t provide, however that couldn’t be any farther from the truth. The truth was that Jonathan had slowly taken a liking to you, and unfortunately, you had taken a liking to him too.

When you first started seeing him, you had the run-of-the-mill doctor-patient relationship: he was there to provide counseling and you were his patient. Jonathan was…looser though. More relaxed than other therapists you’d had before. He made you feel comfortable, even when talking about the hard stuff. He made you laugh. He made you smile. He even made you blush sometimes. That isn’t to say he ever said anything lewd, he just gave you a compliment here and there in the beginning.

“Well, don’t you look nice! Doing something fun later?”

Then the compliments became more frequent and more…audacious.

“Ooh, cute little number ya got on! Did you wear that just for little old me?”

You hadn’t that day, but you had started getting dressed up for him after that.

And now here you were: sitting in the lobby reading your book and eagerly waiting for Jonathan to come out and usher you in.

“Good morning, Miss y/n,” you looked up at the sound of his voice as he stood in the doorway grinning, “ready for our session?”

You nodded before standing, at which point his eyes widened for just a split second before they returned back to normal.

Once inside the office, you sat down on the couch while he sat in the matching chair opposite you, pen and clipboard in hand.

“Now I believe last session…” he flipped through some of his notes,”…we ended with your fear of romantic relationships…” Jonathan looked up at you with a warm yet sly smile on his face. “Would you like to pick up from there?”

“Sounds good to me.” You smiled back, watching as he clicked his pen. As happy as you were to see him, you remembered that you were also here to deal with any obstacles that held you back.

Oddly enough, one such obstacle was the subject of romantic relationships with others.

And you were discussing it with your therapist that you had a crush on. God really does have a sick sense of humor, doesn’t he?

“Now you said something last time about not wanting to…’share’ yourself with someone?”

“Share pieces of myself…”, you said quietly.

“Because in your last relationship, you were with someone who wasn’t treating you as an equal, is that right?”

“No he- well it’s not that I wasn’t his equal, it’s that he um…” you struggled to find the words. Meanwhile, Jonathan sat patiently waiting for you to figure out what you were trying to say.

“May I say something here?” His voice broke the silence between you two.

“Sure.”

“You said this person treated you as an equal…” he raised a brow at you, “…yet they didn’t allow you to have the same right they had to things like privacy, free time, ability to make choices…right?” He looked at you knowingly. It was a question you knew the answer to already.

“Right…” you sighed.

Jonathan set aside his clipboard and readjusted himself in his chair before speaking. He leaned in closer towards you.

“So let’s say for example’s sake…” He looked up in thought for a moment then snapped his fingers. “Let’s say you and I are dating…” A toothy smile.

“So let’s say we’re a happy little couple and we’ve been a happy little couple for awhile because we looove each other and we wanna be together forever…” The sentence is punctuated with a sugary sweet tone made to make you laugh, and it did. “So we have a healthy relationship,” he continued, “where, yes, you do share pieces of yourself with me, but I also share pieces of myself with you. We don’t share ourselves just hoping the other will reciprocate, we share because we’re comfortable, because we want to. Are you following?”

“Yes.” You said with an unwittingly dreamy tone to your voice.

Jonathan smiled softly. An oddly warm gesture that differed from his usual calculated yet charismatic demeanor.

“Okay, so in sharing ourselves, we share respect for each other; we communicate, we set boundaries, we build trust. If there’s a problem, we talk about it. I don’t hack into your phone to look at your private messages, I ask you if I have done anything to make you feel like I’m mad at you or neglecting your needs. The same goes for you.” His eyes traveled down to your lap, where your hands were neatly folded, as he carefully took hold of them before looking at you again.

“That’s what a healthy relationship, where two people are equals, is. Does that make sense?”

You nodded and smiled, again dreamily.

“Okay and does that sound anything like your past relationship?”

With a smile still on your face, you shook your head and began to slowly lean in towards him. At this point he had turned slightly to gather some things, you weren’t sure what and didn’t care, honestly. Nonetheless, he kept talking.

“Exactly, and you deserve to have th-“

He fell silent when he turned back to you and noticed your face, now only inches from his. Jonathan looked a bit nervous all of the sudden, his ears and cheeks flushed slightly as he stared at you quietly. He was stuck there, eyes flitting from your eyes then to your lips and back again. The air of haughtiness and charisma he usually had about himself had disappeared.

Or maybe it had just moved in your direction.

As you leaned in closer to Jonathan, he shifted backwards slightly in his chair, a movement so minuscule that you didn’t notice despite your eyes being on him.

Then finally, your lips met his. His heart raced and was beating so loud that you could hear it.

Yet somehow it felt like you were both floating. Time and space didn’t exist

He broke the kiss rather abruptly, and cleared his throat.

“Ah…hm…um…” he blinked rapidly and tapped his fingers on the arm rest.

Oh no. Oh nononononono. You made him uncomfortable.

You watched him expectantly, prepared for the worst and cringing at your impulsivity.

“I think you’ve made a great deal of progress here, however I’m not sure if I can treat you any further…”

There it is, and here it comes to hit you head on.

“The issues you’re facing are…outside of my field of expertise I’m afraid, but uh…” Jonathan quickly took a business card and scribbled something on it. “Why don’t you make an appointment with a colleague of mine, hm?” You nodded with a solemn smile.

He stood up, and smiled somewhat awkwardly at you. You carefully followed suit, the pit in your stomach almost felt so heavy that you would fall right back into the chair if you stood up too fast.

After walking you to the door, he cleared his throat again.

“Oh and uh…,” he swallowed. “If you’d like, I can tell you about more options available over dinner on Saturday?” He gave you a smug grin.

Now there was the Jon you knew.

You grinned back at him before speaking.

“I’d love that, actually…do you maybe want to see that new slasher film afterwards?”

“Holy f- I mean, yes absolutely!”

With that you said your goodbyes to each other and left, giggling on your way out.

Saturday couldn’t come fast enough.

#btaa jonathan crane #batman the audio adventures #btaa scarecrow x reader #x fem!reader #jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader

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vaporwavebeach-writes · 7 months

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Kinktober Day 5 (Collaring)

BTAA Scarecrow x Reader (NSFW)

(1,522 Words)

Summary: There’s a kill collar around your neck

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, tied to a chair, collaring, fear play, a little bit of psychoanalysis, light knife play, dom/sub dynamic

Notes: Ok, now this one was just TOO FUN to write LMAO, u can read this as a continuation to this or as a stand alone, either way, enjoy the fic!!!

An abrupt chill dances up your neck, waking you to your surroundings. Eyes opening groggily, you awaken to thick, rough twine digging into your wrists and ankles, keeping you tied to the arms and legs of a wooden chair.

You try to look around, but you feel something heavy and metal around your neck. It’s when you hear the beeping of a heart monitor when you realize exactly what it is.

“Good morning, sunshine.” You look up in front of you to see the Scarecrow, leaning his hands back on the table behind him, standing with his leg crossed casually. His voice is his usual brand of eerily cheerful. Amusing, but terrifying to be on the other end of, as you have seen by working for him for a while, but unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky this time.

The collar begins to beep slightly faster, hardly noticeable, but your boss, Scarecrow- Dr. Jonathan Crane, he seems to pick up on your nerves easily. Behind his raggedy, burlap mask, you can see the stirrings of morbid excitement as he cocks his head playfully.

“No need to be nervous,” He says nonchalantly. He leans back further, sitting on the table. “You know the drill by now.”

You begin to wonder what you could’ve possibly done to end up to be the next victim of one of the Scarecrow’s infamous kill collars. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” You ask bluntly.

“Oh! Right to the point,” he chuckles. “Well,” he clears his throat, “It all depends on you- Don’t get scared, and you get to keep your head.”

You roll your eyes, hearing his spiel dozens of times already. “Yeah, yeah- Got it, like you said, I know the drill.”

The Scarecrow gets up, stalking ever so close to you. You feel his cold hand find its way under your chin, tilting up your head to look deep into his gaze. You’ve seen him do this several times, you know this is just an intimidation tactic to toy with his victims.

“So what did it?” You begin, unfazed by his potent glare. “Was it the fact that I knew too much about what was really going on here? Or was it when I reduced you to nothing but a quivering mess when I caught you fucking yourself to the thought of me?”

He lets out a low chuckle, placing a hand on your shoulder, circling around you menacingly. “You could say that.”

“To which one?”

“Oh, I don’t think it really matters too much,” he stops behind you, “…What matters…” You feel your feet come off the floor as he tilts back the chair, “…Is that we need to make an example out of you,” he darkly murmurs in your ear. You let out an involuntary yelp as the chair is suddenly pushed forward.

The kill collar starts to beep slightly quicker now, but it was getting harder to tell if your heart was picking up due to fear, or arousal. Either way, you refuse to let whatever emotions you’re currently feeling be the death of you. Taking a deep breath, you attempt to stabilize your breathing, which the Scarecrow notes aloud.

“Breathing techniques, huh? You must’ve been paying attention to all those times you’ve seen me collar someone. Why? Did you see yourself ending up in a situation like this? Did you try to prepare just in case you did?”

“I learned from the best,” you sigh sarcastically.

“Aw,” he chuckles, “You know, complimenting me won’t get you out of this…” Crane fishes around the inner pocket of his jacket. He makes his way around you once again as the glint of his switchblade is caught in your peripheral vision. “Now answer the question,” The blade is held directly to your chest. “Please.”

“Alright,” You gulp, the beeping of the collar stays consistent. “Yeah, I did think this is how things would end, but you know what?”

“What is it, little lamb?”

“The fact that you have me here, like this, means that I’ve gotten close.”

Crane leans over the back of the chair, cocking his head to meet your eyes. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“I learned some real nasty secrets about your experiments with using JoyCure, an unauthorized drug, on your patients,” you explain, “and, I had you completely spineless for me, the fact that you have me collared here, means you’re afraid. You’re afraid that I know too much about you, criminally and personally, so you have me here to not only kill me, but to kill the fear of knowing about the leverage I have on you.”

You look him dead in the eyes as you make your case, showing him that you are not afraid and refuse to be afraid, no matter how much he tries to make you believe it. You almost forget he still has the blade to your chest until you feel the cold metal trail down and eventually off your flesh.

A low, bubbling, snicker sounds in the warehouse. “My, my,” whispers Crane, awestruck. He toys with the switchblade, fiddling with it in his hands. “Now look who’s playing psychiatrist.” His low snicker erupts into an uproarious laugh, like a hyena. “Oh wow, that is an interesting theory to say the least, and you do make a very promising point,” his voice is directly behind you now. “I can see how you’re trying to flip the dynamic here, thinking you have some control, but unfortunately…” his hands find their way to your shoulders, pinning you to the back of the chair. You hear a sadistic hiss in your ear. “…You’re wrong.”

The air of his breath tickles the side of your neck. Hearing the flick of the switchblade snapping open, the knife is held to your chest once again. However, the knife continues to slide down your uniform- a simple jumpsuit to protect yourself from any chemicals from his fear toxin that may be lingering around the warehouse. The fabric tears and you are left vulnerable, opened up with your underwear exposed. You don’t say a word, but the collar’s heart monitor audibly speeds up.

“There it is…” he whirls around, admiring your exposed flesh- your exposed emotions. “There’s that fear I’ve been so longing to see.” Behind his mask, you could tell he was grinning sadistically. Attempting to keep standing your ground, you keep your head held high as the Scarecrow prowls over to you. “Or, wait a second… maybe, it’s not fear.”

Oh shit.

“Hmmm,” he ponders aloud, “it’s very hard to tell with you.” He claps his hands, throwing his head back. “Well!” his head comes back, the eyes behind his mask eye you up carnally. “There’s always solutions that we can test to distinguish which response is which.” At this point, he’s doing it just to mess with you. Prowling behind the chair, he leans forward, directly to your ear. “…I am a man of science, you know.”

His cold hand drops to your chest. He feels up every inch of your exposed body. Shuddering, his fingers find their way to your undershirt, sliding between the fabric and teasing your nipples. A restrained moan exits your mouth as lightly pinches them.

“Interesting response,” he purrs “someone who is feeling fear wouldn’t have that reaction, so obviously, you’re feeling frustrated…” He lets go of your nipples, flicking his thumb over them. “…Sexually.” You hardly notice that the collar’s beeping sounds faster this time.

“It’s fascinating,” he continues “how fear and arousal are so similar.” His hands finally make their way to your inner thighs, caressing them, teasing. “Heavy breathing…” He drags his hand across your underwear. “Adrenaline, pumping…” His hand finally slips into your underwear, you jump when he finally glides his fingers over your sex, “…Heart, racing.” The beeping of the kill collar continues to ring out.

Gathering the arousal that drips out of your aching sex, Crane applies more pressure and friction against the spot that makes you squirm. He fucks you with his skilled fingers. You breathe out amorously, not giving a shit about the kill collar, which rapidly increases in its beeping, sealing your fate as you come violently.

When you come down from your euphoric high, you realize your head is still on your body. You’re alive. Breathing heavily, you turn your head as best you can, confused, facing the deranged psychiatrist, who lets out an amused chuckle.

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention,” Crane makes his way over back to the table, leaning back casually, soaking in your disheveled state. “That kill collar? It’s a fake.”

Flicking open the switchblade, Jonathan makes his way over to you, using it to unscrew the heavy, metal collar which unclamps from your neck immediately. You feel the sweet relief of being able to move your neck once again, only for the Scarecrow to take your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes bore into yours deeply. “I needed you to know how easily I can make you squirm.” His voice drips with sadistic venom. “This was just to show you who really has control here.”

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