#btaa scarecrow x reader

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

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.”

[southern-fried-simpin]

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.

[phobia-sweets]

This is my first request and I hope I am doing it right!!

Can you do any version (if you can TNBA but any is fine) of Jonathan Crane with prompt 10? (“Did you just fucking bite me?”) Where S/O just randomly bites Jonathan because he was panicking (for whatever reason). And it takes him out of his panic because wtf and S/O kind of just shrugs it off and asks if he is still panicked.

-🦷👁🧠

For the record, I still haven't watched TNBA but i've seen clips of that version so i'm going off of that so it might be OOC. also slipped in 2 more versions of scarecrow since they ended up shorter than initially planned :D

TNBA, BTAS & BTAA Scarecrow x reader

"Did you just fucking bite me?"

Warnings & Notes: Eh might be OOC idk it's 2am rn not proofread

TNBA

“The batch is now entirely wasted. ”He sighed, paying you no mind as he walked past you. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted them with shipping the containers – It was bound to end in disaster.” He was always calm. Even now, after whatever the hell happened with his henchmen – It was in his nature. Never could lose his cool or be caught by surprise. You could tell, though. He was frustrated – maybe even a little bit panicked about it. He had a deadline to reach, and making the needed amount of toxin would take time.

The easiest way to ease his stress was usually just talking with him – a way of distraction. Occasionally a horror movie helped. But the way he was rambling in his always so… calm voice, getting to say something between his words without interruptin him was going to be a challenge. So, getting his attention without talking was the best course of action.

You waited for him to walk by you, and bit his arm. He continued walking for a few steps, until he stopped, and turned around to look at you slowly.

“Did you… just bite me?” He asks, head tilted to the side ever so slightly. You confirm with a hum, looking up at him. “...Why?” He asked, a confused tone in his voice.

“You were panicked.” You stated, watching as the confusion only got more visible in him.

“And you decided that biting me would help?”

“Are you still panicked?” You asked, and he hummed in thought.

He looked right at you, Answering, “I suppose not. As much as I’d like not to admit it, you caught me by surprise.”

BTAS

disheveled.

That was the best way to describe Jonathan’s state currently – hay peeking out from under his clothes and hair, scythe in two large pieces. You tilted your head at him, confused. “...You alright there? What happened?”

“The bat!” He yelled, “He humiliated me! Me! The scarecrow!”

Allright, so he was in one of his ranting moods. You didn’t mind – you’d listen to him. You needed to get rid of all that hay first though. Only problem was actually getting to do that -He’d already started, getting him to stop would be difficult. Unless…

You stood up from your chair, walking behind him while he was turned away from you. He slightly jumped when your teeth met the fabric covering his shoulder. “What are you-” He turned, looking at you with his wide eyes. “Did you just-” He sputtered, “Bite me?”

“Yup!” You confirmed. “Need to get all the hay out of your clothes ‘nd hair.” You replied, smiling at his wide eyes as if biting him was a normal way to get his attention. “I mean, you were upset, and didn’t want to interrupt by speaking on top of you so…”

“Well, you did get my attention.”

“Exactly, so it worked!” you chimed, picking up some hay from his hair. “Anyhow, Go sit on the couch, I’ll help you get all the hay out.”

THE AUDIO ADVENTURES

“Oi, Don’t take the expensive stuff yet! Get the cheap stuff, for god’s sake!”

“And you, you, where’s the cop? What do you mean ‘you don’t know’? He tried to rat me out! Yeah, that guy! Put the collar on him!”

Yeah, Jonathan was an intelligent person, But god was he insufferable sometimes. You didn’t know what the fuck had him so… frustrated today, but it was getting tiring. Sighing, you walked inside the room where he was, mask on and shuffling through countless papers – shipment info, perhaps? You walked closer to him, stopping a few feet behind him. Would he snap at you? Possibly. Would he gas you? Probably not. Thinking through your options, you decided that fuck it, walked up to him and bit his shoulder. He turned to face you so quickly you were surprised he didn’t get whiplash.

“Did you just fucking bite me?” He asked, surprised from your sudden… affection? He sounded almost offended, if you were being honest.

“Yes?” You looked at his burlap-covered face, smiling innocently.

“Why are you acting like that’s a normal course of action to do?”

“you’re not exactly the best person to lecture me about normalcy” You walked next to him, leaning on the table. “Anyhow, What’s up? You’re usually pretty… Cheery. What’s made you so bitchy today?”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you just called me a bitch-”

“Thanks.”

“And- can you not talk over me? Thank you. Anyway, this cop...”

[tabaquis-barking]

"Jonathan decides to teach you how to ride his motorcycle. It's all downhill from there. "

OR

"Guys be like "I know a spot" and take you to fuck in the Abandoned Murder Shack."

(18+, Knifeplay, Bloodplay, Irresponsible Operation of a Motorcycle, Jonathan Crane being kind of a bitch.)

[2-guns-b1tch]

Midnight Visitor

Rating: Explicit +18

Pairing: BTAA! Scarecrow x F!Reader

I really wanted to write something about the Scarecrow from the Audio Adventures. I love his voice and his mannerisms so much. Sorry if this a little OOC, i think i wasn't able to portray him exactly right, but I hope you like this and let me now if I forgot to mention a trigger warning.

Ao3

+18 Minors DNI!!! Fear Play, Mildly Dubious Consent, Breathplay if you squint, Vaginal Sex.

The waiting room is practically empty when you come in. The only person in there is Miss Gold and she seems to be getting ready to leave for her lunch break.

"Hello, Miss Gold," your voice breaks the silence, making her jump on her chair.

Miss Gold snaps her head in your direction, laughing softly with a hand on her chest when she realizes is actually you.

"Oh, hello, Mrs. Crane. I was sou caught that you startled me."

Miss Gold has been Jonathan's secretary for almost two years. She was a little shorter than you, wearing high heels to make up for the missing inches. Her round, rosy cheeks reminded you of a peach, matching her plumper silhouette. Her clothes were often pastel and soft, which made her stand out in the dull environment of the clinic.

Although Miss Gold was sweet and helpful, she always had this nervous expression on her face, looking like she was on the verge of an anxiety attack constantly. You needed to have a conversation with Jonathan to find out what kind of pressure he was putting on the poor secretary.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to sneak in like this," you say, approaching her table. "I came to bring Jonathan's lunch. Is he here?"

Miss Gold nods, "Yes, he is, dear. Would you like me to let him know you're here?"

"You don't have to, thank you. Go enjoy your lunch, Miss Gold. I will take care of the doctor now.”

You say goodbye before she leaves and you knock on Jonathan's door, his voice on the other end signaling you to come in.

"What's so important, Miss-" Jonathan lifts his head towards you, the annoyed expression on his face being washed away when he lays his eyes on you, a small smile forming on the corners of his lips.

You can't help but shiver as you walk over to his desk. The old, dark furniture gave the room a gloomy air, the dim lights creating strange shadows. But what made you feel more uneasy were the old Argus Studios posters hanging on the walls. Basil Karlo's wicked gaze followed you wherever you went.

You try to shake off that feeling when Jonathan gets up and meets you halfway.

"What do I owe the pleasure of your honorable presence?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

You pull him by his orange tie – the same one you had gifted him last Christmas – until he was at your level and you could kiss him on the cheek.

"You forgot that at home, so I thought I'd stop by to deliver it to you," you lift the lunchbox, handing it to him.

He slaps a hand on his forehead, giving a breathy chuckle as he shakes his head. "What would I do without my dear wife?"

"You would probably end up forgetting your head somewhere," you pat him at the shoulder before sitting down on the therapy couch.

Jonathan just nods, sitting next to him. He opens the package, admiring for a few seconds what you had packed before he started eating.

You watch him finish the salad in just a few bites and then stuff his mouth full of spaghetti. He licks his lips, letting out a few moans of delight between bites.

"Good to know you still like my food," you comment out Loud.

"How could I not? That was one of the main reasons I married you."

You try to look offended by giving him a weak slap on the arm, but you can't hide your smile when he starts laughing.

"You're terrible!"

"You can't go back now. Until death do us part, remember?" he shrugs as if there's nothing you can do. “Besides, we both know you’re crazy about me."

You roll your eyes at him, but your fingers troke your wedding ring, a warm sensation spreading across your chest.

"You look hungry. What would you have eaten if I hadn’t brought your lunch?"

He shrugs as he finishes chewing. "I probably would have asked Miss Gold to buy me something. Don't worry."

But it was impossible not to worry. In these last months, Jonathan left early in the morning and returned only late at night. He said he was too busy at the office and that you shouldn't wait for him awake. Even then you always woke up when he arrived home and helped him take off his clothes, only being able to talk for a few minutes until he fell asleep exhausted.

Of course you were grateful for the comfortable life his jobs provided, and you were very proud of his career as a doctor and professor, but you didn't want him to work until he killed himself.

You run your fingers through his hair, brushing a few strands off his forehead. He definitely needed a cut. On top of that, he looked even thinner and the dark circles under his eyes were getting bigger. But even after all these years together, he was still the man of your dreams. A little mean and weird, but you didn't want it any other way.

Jonathan stares at you, his gaze as warm and loving as ever. But at the same time it seemed so far away, as if he wasn't really there.

"Today they're going to reprise some classic horror movies. What do you think? You, me, a bucket of popcorn?" you propose.

"I'm sorry, dear. Not today. I have some tests that I need to go through and-" Jonathan begins to explain himself, but you interrupt him.

"It's okay, you have work to do. I get it.”

You bite your tongue, hating how angry you sound. You didn't want to take your frustrations out on him, but you missed Jonathan so much. You missed dancing with him as he hummed some silly music he made up. To watch the classic horror movies he loved so much. To simply be able to talk to him without Jonathan falling asleep in the middle of a sentence. And you missed the sex, too.

Jonathan was still affectionate, of course, but the caresses and touches boiled down to a quick kiss before he left or a hug when he arrived. Nothing more than that. Now, Jonathan left a void around the house, like a ghost walking in the halls.

He places the lunch box on the coffe table, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "You're upset, I understand.”

You move your gaze to your lap. "I'm not upset. I'm just... tired. I’ve barely seen you these last few days."

He puts his hand over yours, his skin feeling cold against your own.

"I know these past months have been difficult. But I'll make it up to you," he strokes your cheek, tilting your chin to look into your eyes. "I promise."

You really want to believe him, but a part of you suspects that these are empty promises. This behavior will keep repeating itself and you will keep forgiving him, until eventually you drift further apart.

A paranoid little voice in the back of your mind suggests a hypothesis for Jonathan's absence and you hate yourself for thinking about something like that. What if he was cheating on you? What if all this distance over the past few months was actually someone between you.

Jonathan wasn't that kind of man, but the voice kept repeating. What if? What if he had grown tired of you? What if that person was more beautiful? Or more interesting? What if they made him happier than you?

The idea makes your stomach turn and you swallow dry. You pull your hand from his grip, getting up from the couch.

"I should go," you say as you put the lunchboxes back in the bag. "After all, you have a lot of work to do."

You feel numb as Jonathan follow you to the door, barely feeling the goodbye kiss he places on your forehead.

You wish you had walked out of the office hoping that things would get better or at least satisfied that this is just a temporary crisis that all couples have to face at some point.

Instead, doubt and a feeling of distress accompany you all the way home.

——

You stir awake, being pulled slowly from your dreams. Everything seems hazy and fuzzy as you run you fingers over Jonathan’s bedside, but you only find his side cold and empty. You sigh in frustration, letting your head sink against the pillow again. You should be used to it by now.

The alarm on your bedside table signals that it's past midnight, the numbers on the digital clock flashing through the darkness of the room. You snuggle under the covers again, almost forgetting what woke you up in the first place. Sleep is so tempting and you start to drift off.

But an insistent sound keeps you awake. You stare at the ceiling, your eyes getting used to the darkness as you begin to make out what exactly the noise was.

Steps. Someone was walking around the apartment.

You pull the sheets, the sole of your foot meeting the cold floor. You try not to assume the worst as you get out of bed. Maybe it was just Jonathan coming home from work.

You step into the hallway, turning on the switch, but the light bulb flickers a few time before the shadows envelop you once more. You sigh, cursing yourself silently. The hallway light wasn’t working properly and you were supposed to change it weeks ago.

You walk slowly with your arms extended in front of your body so you don’t bump into anything until you can reach the bathroom door. You turn the lights on and a momentary feeling of safety rushes over you. Everything looks okay in the bathroom, so you decide to let the lights on and the door open to let a little bit o the light illuminate the hallway.

After that you go to check the living room and the kitchen. Your thin nightgown isn't enough to keep you warm on that cold night and you hug yourself, a shiver running through your skin.

You finally go to the front door to test the handle. To your relief, is locked and the bolt was in place. Even though you lived in a safe neighborhood you still had your fears, after all, Gotham is Gotham. You can never be too sure.

Maybe it was just a dream? You wonder for a second until you notice the light in Jonathan's office leaking through the small crack in the door. As you get closer, the sound of mumbling and papers being flipped through becomes more noticeable. Jonathan was really incorrigible. After hours at his office, he brought even more work home.

"Jon, you should go to bed," you stop in front of the door, rubbing your eyes until they get used to the brightness of the room.

You had the clear image of Jonathan in your head. He'd be sitting behind his desk with a tired expression on his face, pen hanging loose in his hand while he is finishing giving grades fos his students’ tests. You would whisper in a sweet tone and stroke his hair until he agreed to follow you back to bed.

Instead, your heart sinks as your eyes fall on the stranger leaning over Jonathan's desk, papers scattered everywhere. He was tall and thin, wearing a brown suit. His face was covered by a patched mask, a rope around his neck.

You've heard and read countless stories about him, but you never expected that one day you'd come face to face with the Scarecrow.

Sleep is a distant thing now. The adrenaline coursing through your veins makes your whole body tense, your feet stuck on the ground. Your instincts scream at you to run, fight, do anything, but the idea of moving seems impossible. All you can do is watch transfixed as Scarecrow stares at you from across the room, a heavy, suffocating silence forming between the two of you.

For some reason he seems as surprised as you do, as if he didn't expect someone to show up.

He walks around the table with slow steps, his hands raised in the air. "Hush. I didn't come here to hurt you," he sounds calm and... strangely familiar. But the grim smile sewn into his mask doesn't help to reassure you.

This is like a nightmare. The kind where you stay in the same place while running, unable to distance yourself from the monster that chases you, no matter how hard you try. But now, the monster wouldn't disappear when you opened your eyes. No matter how much you blink, he's still there.

He's only a few inches away, his hand almost touching your arm, when your feet finally work again and you run out of the room, heading towards the kitchen.

You can hear the Scarecrow right behind you through the rapid beating of your heart, his footsteps reverberating against the hardwood floor, but you don't dare look back.

Your first extinct is to open one of the drawers to grab the biggest knife you can find. You turn just in time to see the Scarecrow standing in the kitchen doorway, your trembling hands gripping the handle of the knife as you point the blade at him. The shadows cast strange shapes on his face, making the smile on his mask seem even bigger. For a moment he looks like one of the monsters from Jonathan's movies.

"Don't come closer!" you scream.

He ignores your order, taking one step toward you and then another. Approaching in the same careful manner that a predator approaches its prey.

You swallow, your wobbly legs seeming to be unable to bear your own weight. "If you come any closer I-I... I'm going to hurt you."

He pauses for a moment, tilting his head as he studies you. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves ma’am. You don't want to make any rash decisions."

"Stay away from me! My husband is going to arrive any moment and he's going to-"

The Scarecrow throws his head back in a cruel laugh that sends a shiver down your spine, as if you've said something stupid.

"Look at you, trying to rationalize with fear. So brave," he shakes his head, approaching again.

With every step he takes, you take another step back in a futile attempt to increase the distance between you. You keep retreating until you're backed against the kitchen counter and that's when it lunges at you. He slaps your hand, throwing your knife across the room.

You try to scream, but he presses his hand over your mouth to muffle your cries for help. You flinch at the sensation of the cold leather of his gloves on your skin, his fingers sinking into the flesh of your arm.

You're like a deer at headlights, too scared to fight for your survival. He was so close now, you could see his eyes through the holes in the mask, deep brown circles staring back at you. His pupils were dilated, he was enjoying it.

To your horror, he presses his face against your neck. He inhales deeply against your skin, letting out a satisfied hum. The hair on the back of your neck stands up and you shiver against his grip.

"You’re afraid, aren’t you? You’re afraid, and it’s delicious,” he whispers close to your ear, his voice becoming dark and low as he takes a sharp inhale. "Mmm. You fear is so sweet, I can almost taste it on my tongue. Oh, darling. You're terrified," he laughs hoarsely.

You close your eyes so tightly that you can see little white spots. The whole world seems to spin and you feel dizzy. Would he drug you with the fear gas that all the news have been talking about? Or maybe force you to swallow some of the drugs he makes that look like Halloween candy? You can only think of Jonathan coming home to find your lifeless body lying on the kitchen floor.

The sob you let out goes almost unnoticed and you think he'll just ignore you, but the Scarecrow leans back, your eyes meeting as tears roll down your face.

"Shhh. No crying. Those aren't the kind of tears I want from you," he says in a soft, almost soothing tone as he strokes your hair. "I'll let you talk now, but don't scream. Got it?"

You nod as best you can and he finally pulls his hand off of you. Your tongue feels heavy inside your mouth when you try to speak.

"Wha... What are you going to do with me?" you ask.

"I'm still deciding," he shrugs.

"I don't have anything you want."

"Maybe I don't want something you have. Maybe I want you to do something for me. Have you thought about that?"

His words take a second to fully hit you. You wish you had misunderstood, but it was impossible not to notice the way he looked at you, how his eyes traveled up and down your body. Your breath gets caught in your throat and you shake your head.

"Please don't. I... I have a husband and he-"

Scarecrow interrupts you with a loud sigh. "You keep talking about your husband, but where is he?"

You open your mouth to answer him, but close it right away, pressing your lips into a thin line. You didn't know where Jonathan really was. Maybe he wasn't even in the office. What if he had lied to you?

He continues in a low tone, as if he's telling you a secret. "What kind of husband leaves his wife like that? So lonely. So vulnerable," one of his hands goes down slowly to caress the bare flesh of your thigh while the other grips your waist. You are startled by the feeling of his hands on you, how his touch is surprisingly slow and sensual. You find yourself thinking about Jonathan for a second before remembering that he's not the one touching you.

"Were you waiting for him? That's why you're wearing this nightgown? How lovely," his laugh makes your cheeks heat up. "Lucky me."

He drags his hand up your stomach, running along your sides, teases one of your breasts until your nipple is a stiffen bud underneath your nightgown. You try to look distant on the outside, but it’s impossible to deny the wetness forming between your legs. You bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to hold in any noises.

You don't want that. You don't want his hands on you. You don't want his body against yours. But you can't remember the last time you felt wanted. It's been so long since you and Jonathan had sex. You're so tired of feeling alone.

Even with these ideas running through your head, you place a hand against his chest, opening up a bit of space between the two of you.

"No. That's not right," you say, "I don't... I don't want this."

"Oh, don't be like that," he whispers, rubbing his face against you neck. "That could be our little secret. I'm not going to tell anyone. I promise."

The air is drawn out of your lungs, as if you've been punched in the stomach. You turn your head slowly, the words stuck in your throat.

"Jonathan?" you mutter.

His body tenses suddenly, and he tilts his head back, staring at you wide-eyed, like a child who just got caught with his hand inside the cookie jar. How could you not have noticed before? Maybe it was fear confusing your senses, but all the signs were there. The same tall, slender silhouette, the long limbs, the deep brown eyes. The same voice. The same laugh.

He breaks the silence with a low laugh, shaking his head.

"I knew I couldn't fool your forever. You always have been so smart."

He lifts the mask slowly, revealing every bit of his face. The face you knew so well. Jonathan's face.

A million questions cross your mind, but before you can say anything Jonathan presses you against the counter again, capturing your lips.

You gasp and throw a fist into his chest, pressing your teeth against his bottom lip, biting hard enough to hurt, but this jusy makes Jonathan growls like a mad dog. His hands run all over your body, not knowing where to stop. He tugs at your nightgown, the cold air sending shivers through your skin as he grabs and squeezes every bit of flesh he can reach.

The kiss is demanding and sloppy, his hot tongue trailing across your lips and invading your mouth. All you can do is hold on to Jonathan as if your life depended on it, making him grunt as your nails sink into his covered back.

There's something familiar about how your bodies move in sync. A sensual dance that the two of you had done thousands of times before. But now there's a hunger behind Jonathan's movements, something possessive, as if he won’t let you escape. Maybe you were as hungry as he was.

The next moment your world changes perspective as Jonathan turns you around, lowering you down onto the kitchen counter until your cheek is pressed against the cold surface. You moan softly as he lifts the thin material of your nightgown, his mouth leaving warm kiss on the skin of your back.

He pulls your panties down, kicking your legs apart. You were practically naked, while Jonathan was fully clothed, having only taken off his mask and gloves. You feel so exposed, nothing to hide yourself while Jonathan stares at you laid bare before him.

You can hear him shuffling behind you, undoing his own belt and pants in a hurry. You turn your head just in time to see him approaching, his flushed cock pressing against your pussy, making you both grunt together. You don't even care if it hurts, all you want is Jonathan inside you. Filling you completely. Fuck, you want him so bad.

He gathers some of your wetness, his dick sliding in between your folds in slow movements. You moan softly when the tip catches on your clit, the sweet sensation making you buckle your hips towards him.

"Johnny..." you whine, "Please."

Jonathan laughs in a mocking tone, but you know he's not in the mood for teasing either.

You’re wet enough so there is no resistance as he presses intou you, your walls stretching to accommodate his cock. Jonathan moves slowly, leaving you’re both panting when he’s fully inside you. The pain and the pleasure mix deliciously, you missed him so much.

The first thrust takes the air out of your lungs. The second makes your legs tremble. The third makes your back arch and a sweet sound leave your lips. He keeps rutting against you, slow and deep. The wet sound of your bodies combined and your moans reverberate through the walls.

"You're the perfect victim, you know?" he says in between grunts, "You're so beautiful when you're scared. Oh, and when you started running – Fuck... I almost lost my mind. I wanted to take you right there on the floor."

You clench around him, driving him even deeper into you. Jonathan realizes the effect his words have on you, giving you a breathless chuckle.

"Did you like that? Do you like the idea of a maniac fucking you?"

The idea shouldn't be so tempting, but you can't stop thinking about Jonathan hiding in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal himself and pull you into the darkness with him, where he could do whatever he wanted to you.

You nod weakly and he grips you tighter, his nails leaving half-moon marks on the soft skin of your waist.  His pace is brutal now, your body moving everytime his hips hits your backside.

"Next time... Hah... I'll give you some of the toxin, just enough to keep you on the edge and a little scared," he takes a sharp breath, throwing his head back, "And then... I'm going to put on my mask and I'm going to fuck you until you beg me to stop."

You open your mouth, but you can’t form words to save your life, so you reach out behind you

to something to hold until your fingers find the rope around Jonathan’s neck and you pull him towards you. He lets out a surprised sound, turning into a sinful moan. His chest is against your back, his chin resting on your shoulder.

It’s good. It’s so fucking good. You can’t believe you almost forgot how good it was to have him inside you. You make a silent promise to never let him leave again.

One of his hands moves around your body, his fingers meeting your throbbing clit. He makes quick circles around it, pinching and pressing on it hard. For a moment it all seems too much and not enough at the same time. His cock moving inside you, the pressure on your clit. It was overwhelming in the best kind of way.

With your cheek pressed against the counter and tears streaming down your face, you can feel your orgasm approaching. Behind you, Jonathan's movements get more and more out of rhythm and you know he's not that far away either.

He keeps one hand in between your legs while the other lays flat on your mid section, pulling you close to him, your bodies still glued together.

"Tell me -Ah... Tell me who I am,” he mumbles, cheek nuzzled in your temple. “Tell me what I am,” almost sound like he is begging and you could never say no to him.

"Scarecrow!" the word leaves your lips before you know it. "You're the Scarecrow."

"Yes! That’s right! That’s right, good girl. My good girl,” his praise goes straight to your pussy and you squeeze him impossibly tight.

You throw your head back, stretching your neck until you can kiss him. It’s all teeth and tongue while he keeps moving inside you with shallow thrusts.

Your orgasm hits you so hard that almost hurts. The knot in your lower belly finally snaps and the wave of carnal bliss washes over your. Jonathan comes right after you. He curses between clenched teeth, his hips curling, his breath hot on your skin as he fills your cunt with hot wads of cum.

 You both breathe heavily in the middle of the kitchen, your sweaty bodies intertwined perfectly. Thank God he is holding you, because you barely can feel your legs and if it weren’t for him you know you would be on the floor by this point.

Jonathan snuggles up against your neck, murmuring something sweet, but your mind is too hazy now to hear him. You bring a hand up to his head, stroking his hair.

As you come down from you high, reality finally hits you. One of Gotham's most wanted criminals just came inside you and now he's cuddling you. Oh, and coincidentally, he's your husband... Fuck.

[rae-raewrites]

BTAA scarecrow general dating headcanons

Finally some audio adventures stuff on this blog! I love this scarecrow so much holy crap

He’s very reluctant to let you know about the scarecrow side of him things start off if you don’t already know

I mean he’s running a drug ring,can’t have just anyone knows he’s professional psychiatrist Jonathan crane now can we?

Scarecrow is just the other half of the already wonderful package

Movie dates to the theater to see the most recent horror movie is a must

Major sugar daddy behavior from this man

He knows how to treat you well with all the money he’s made from selling fear drugs.

He can be really sweet at times

Absolutely brings you to work and shows you off to everyone. The dem bones motorcycle gang,his employees,miss autumn

He can be such a tease especially when he’s had a good day.

Like if there’s something to tease you about good luck

Will pseudo analyze you if he finds out you’re afraid of anything.

This man probably knows like every idiom ever so expect a lot of colorful language

[batmanrogues-scenarios]

Dancing in the evening, your choice!

Doctor's Hand

BTAA Scarecrow Word Count: 313 Tw: fluff

Jonathan dancing wasn't something unusual. He often moved his legs while listening to the radio when he was alone, something to speed up the time. Y/N found it amusing, seeing respected Dr. Crane and feared Scarecrow move from one side of table to second while moving his shoulders to rhythm of music.

He heard them chuckle as he turned to their direction.

"Hey, it's not good to laugh at your boyfriend." He said in clearly mocking tone.

"Sorry love, just couldn't help myself. You seem so much more relaxed than usual."

"I mean, how can I not be? It's evening, day went great. Who wouldn't want to sing under their nose and move a little when taking a break?"

He chuckled and moved closer to them, putting hand around their waist.

"How about you join me?"

Y/N rolled their eyes but had smile on their face and took doctor's hand. He pulled them closer to him and put hand on their waist. They danced to song to the radio as the window been opened and sound of evening poured in. Jon put his face in their neck kissing then nibbling at it.

"Jon~!" Y/N giggled again and with that Jon grabbed them twirled around. With that he put them on the ground and started spinning faster until they lost balance and fell onto his sofa. Both let out laugh at that,

"You're lucky no one is here to see you dancing like that. You would lost all the respect."

"Oh please. I know how to play with people. Beside.. who would they tell if no one can find them?" He kissed their temple.

[bangsinc]

OH MY…????

[jaw-the-fandom-hopper]

I didn’t understand the craze over BTAA!Scarecrow until I heard clips of him

Boogedy-boo, ig.

Yandere? I ain’t got a clue. But yeah. Have this I guess??

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 12 (Medical Play)

BTAA Scarecrow x Reader (NSFW)

(1,223 Words)

Summary: you have a debilitating phobia of needles and Dr. Crane has the solution to overcoming those fears

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, reader has MAJOR trypanophobia (fear of needles), panic attacks, exposure therapy, medical kink (duh), crane feeding off the reader’s fear, crane being unprofessional, doctor/patient dynamic, fingering

Notes: sorry this one’s a little late LMAO but literally? as someone who had SEVERE trypanophobia, this was kinda empowering to write, enjoy the fic!!!

-

There was always a sense of unease whenever you found yourself at the doctors office. Maybe it was the awkward silence of sitting in the waiting room, anticipating what’s to come. Maybe it was the little intrusions that came with a basic physical check-up. Maybe it was unsettling scent of sterilized chemicals, sanitizing the room. Maybe it was those beige colored walls, glaring at you for the duration of your visit. Maybe it was the fact that you were about to be subjected to one of your worst fears. Or maybe, it was the fact that your physician is incredibly attractive.

Yeah, that too.

You find yourself, laying on his exam table, staring up at the ceiling. His voice, playful, as he explains the clinical the proceedings of this visit, reverberates off the walls.

“I’m really glad to see you taking the initiative to face your fears, exposure therapy isn’t for the faint of heart, you know.”

Your heart flutters at his words. As someone who suffered from a fear of needles since childhood, you figured that now, well into your adulthood, it was finally time to overcome that fear.

Doctors appointments for important vaccinations or even just the seasonal flu shot was always enough to spiral you into a panic. Nightmares leading up to it, hyperventilating, and giving yourself panic attacks to the point of nausea or fainting were feelings you had become all too familiar with. Feeling the prying gazes of other people in the waiting room or judgmental nurses always caused your embarrassment to spike at what you thought, was your own childish anxieties.

Seeing Dr. Jonathan Crane changed all that. When you scheduled your first session with him, his office felt comfortable. Adorned with classic horror movie posters and little mementos about his interests gave the impression that you wouldn’t be just some patient to him, but someone who he would genuinely try to help with your issues. When time came to actually talk about your fear, he wasn’t mean, or judgmental, or condescending, but he was understanding. He was someone who took a deep interest in whatever you had to say, as a patient and as a person. When he suggested the idea of exposure therapy, you were hesitant, but he had helped you come to realize that you had to start somewhere, which lead you to the clinic.

“Thanks, doctor,” you smile nervously, “gotta start somewhere, right?”

“Too true,” he says, turning to you as he walks over to the counter. “I appreciate that you put your trust in me to help you with such a… Debilitating, vulnerability.”

You hear the metallic rustling from within the cabinets. You stare back up at the ceiling, yet your curiosity gets the better of you. Glancing back over to him, you spy him preparing the needles, sending a wave of trepidation through your body.

“The syringes will be filled with a simple saline solution, it’s not harmful, but the solution is not what you’re afraid of, is it?” Maybe it’s just your anxiety, but you could swear there’s a hint of eeriness within his voice.

“Hey, uh, Doctor?”

“What is it, sweet pea?” He asks jokingly.

“I um, I just wanna apologize in advance in case I freak out at the needle.” You muster out with as much courage as you can. “Like, I-I might cry actually.” You chuckle nervously. You actually do feel the urge to cry as uneasiness fills the pit in your stomach.

“Aw now,“ There’s a playfulness to his voice. You’ve heard it many times in sessions, but it feels a little unsettling to hear it now. “Don’t psych yourself up too much, remember your breathing techniques.”

You can’t regulate your breathing at a time like this. As he makes his way over to you with a little alcohol wipe, you feel yourself beginning to hyperventilate. You feel the sweat trickling down your forehead as your throat begins to go dry. You feel faint; clammy. That alcohol wipe was the calm before the storm. You were fine when it was swabbed across your skin, but it always signaled what’s to come.

“Dr. Crane, I don’t know if I-”

“The feelings you have right now are completely expected,” he hushes you. “It’s all anticipatory, you fear the dread of it more than the actual stick itself, and I think I have found a sufficient way to combat that,” his explanation is stern, but comforting. He takes his gloved hands in yours, feeling his warmth through the latex. “Do you trust me?”

You’re hesitant. Your eyes threaten to spill tears out of the sheer distress you feel at the moment, yet Crane stares at you confidently, as if he knows you will make the right decision. You let out a shaky sigh, “Yes.”

“Good,” he grins at you. His hand makes its way to cup your cheek, gently thumbing over you. It moves up and around, to the nape of your neck and through your scalp, playing with your hair. You practically melt into his touch, fear beginning to dissipate from within you. And it’s at that moment, he gives it a tug, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “A good method to combating fear, is to add an equally positive stimulus.” He lets out a low chuckle in response, which you feel go straight to your groin.

“I think I catch your drift.”

“Trust me,” he whirls you around on the table, spreading your legs. You can feel the heat pooling in your sex. “By the time I’m done with you, your phobia of needles will be the last thing on your mind.” He eyes you up, feeling his predatory gaze all around you like you wish his body was.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” you whisper desperately.

“Then let’s not waste any time.”

You two work together to undo your pants. Your sex drips with arousal as Dr. Crane’s hand makes its way past your underwear. Your legs shake as he grazes over a particularly sensitive spot. He adds more pressure stroking you steadily as you all but grind yourself on his hand.

“God, you are such a good patient,” he groans. “Your determination to cure yourself of this fear, by any means necessary, is remarkable.”

You let out a breathy moan at the praise. You feel his fingers enter inside you, curling up and fucking away any fear you had before.

“Dr. Crane,” you gasp. “I think, I-I’m-”

“Getting close?”

“Mhm.” You groan.

You feel yourself quickly reaching your peak, eyes slamming shut. As you feel Crane’s fingers speeding up, there’s a sharp, painful sensation in your arm, making you cry out in a pained whine. With the pain, soon follows your orgasm, which tears through you frantically.

Breathing heavily, you come down from your euphoric high, to find Dr. Crane removing his gloves, smiling over at you proudly.

“Congratulations,” he smirks. “We’ve made excellent progress in overcoming your phobia, I think we’ve made a break through.” Washing his hands in the sink, he takes a seat on the table beside you, that playful tone once again adorning his voice. “However, I think we may need to have a few more sessions, fears aren’t cured overnight you know.”

You giggle, looking at him feeling giddy. You couldn’t wait for your next appointment.

[phobia-sweets]

This recent request made me think, and make a request to… How do different versions of the Scarecrow react to the PDA?

By the way, it also made me go and start listening to BTAA XD Fortunately, it is now available on YouTube. Perhaps soon there will be one more lover of the voice of our favorite character...

For the record after this i have a few longer requests (that aren't headcanons) coming up! writing them just takes longer (though i enjoy writing them more than headcanons lmao)

I hope you're enjoying BTAA so far!! It's a lot of fun, especially listening to it while working on smth is nice

BTAS, BTAA, ARKHAMVERSE & DK! Scarecrow x reader PDA headcanons

Warnings & Notes: Its headcanons so short lmao

❤ Arkhamverse

- Now, I can see asylum! Jon being indifferent about it.

- You wanna give him a kiss in public? Sure. Hug him? Ok, go ahead, he’ll return it.

- As long as you don’t do anything too ‘scandalous’ (I guess) He’ll be fine with it. Does not initiate it himself tho lmao

- Knight! Jon though? He’d prefer if you just didn’t.

- He’s not very keen on physical touch, especially after the croc incident. I’d believe it if he got more sensitive towards physical touch/pain after it.

- So, all in all, he’ll only take kindly to physical affection in private. Oh and don’t try to surprise him with hugs from the back or anything, you’ll probably get a syringe jammed into you.

❤ BTAS

- Well, he’s not complaining

- He doesn’t love it, as he’s not exactly used to it, but he doesn’t hate it?

- Maybe don’t surprise him with it unless you want him to short circuit

❤ The Dark knight trilogy

- He’s indifferent towards PDA. Though he wpuld prefer if you didn’t initiate PDA too much.

- Fine with some quick pecks etc etc but please don’t go overboard

- Does he initiate PDA? Very rarely. When he does, it’s probably as scarecrow tbh lmao

❤ Batman: The audio adventures

- If anything, he’s the one initiating it, so he’s more than fine with it.

- affection in private or public, he doesn’t care. He revels in it.

- initiates PDA on the regular. Doesn’t matter if he’s scarecrow or not. As long as it doesn’t risk his identity being revealed

[finniestoncrane]

What’s this? I haven’t fallen into your inbox yet?

Time to change that.

Any scarecrows your pick, what’s their dirtiest fantasies

Dirtiest Fantasies

Scarecrow Headcanons my beloved for you anything u-u (and also i wanted to be yucky disgusting about the boys anyway lol) 🎃🧡 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: humiliation and degradation, abuse of authority, teacher/pupil vibes, blood play, knife play, fear play, some cnc, somnophilia OH GOD SO MANY GOOD THINGS

golden age

he feels it's probably not a great thing for him to admit to

given his chosen career path...

but it's just a kink, so let him live omg

so what if he wants you to pretend to be one of his students

a struggling little soul who needs some extra tutoring

and maybe you tell him you'll do anything for him

anything to pass his class

"please professor crane, i want to make you proud"

"you're my favourite professor, i admire you so much"

"i actually... have a little bit of a crush on you haha"

"maybe we could come to an... arrangement?"

the feeling of control, of having you under his thumb

of you needing to please him

that's what's getting him off for sure, all the power play

he might even have you bend over his desk for some spanking

arkham

this jonathan would prefer to have you in a state of agreement

preferably coerced or (agreed to beforehand or not...)

he wants to feel in control, but also needed by you

so his fantasy involves you being lulled into a gentle sleep

and then subjected to his fear toxin, inducing a nightmare

while he watches from the corner of the room

palming his cock as you squirm and whimper in the bed

tears falling in complete terror before he lays down on top of you

you'd do anything to feel some comfort in that moment

even if it's coming in the form of nightmare vision crane

so you'll be likely to let him do what he wants

anything to bring you out of the horrible dream you're stuck in

having you beg him to save you, clinging to him

to look at your face contort in terror and pain

while he empties himself inside of you? perfect

btaa

more fear play, but with a very physical and very lucid twist

he needs you to be fully conscious and completely aware

the fear isn't coming from any drugs or toxin

no no no, he wants to create the fear in you

so you'll definitely be tied up, only a safeword in your arsenal

as he dangles a rather literal sword of damocles above you

vulnerable body exposed to the potential danger

the teasing, the threat, your pulse beating fast as he measures it

maybe it drops a little, maybe it punctures the skin just a tiny bit

and maybe, just to make sure everything is nice and clean

he licks it away, hiding the evidence, like a good criminal

maybe he'll get you to lick the blade clean yourself

because you'd do anything for him right?

mostly out of adoration and devotion... obviously

but also because you know what he's capable of

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

How would Riddler, Scarecrow, and Hatter (your fave iterations) react to their s/o sending them suggestive pics while they're out or on a job?

"Salacious" BTAS Scarecrow, Zero Year Riddler and Arkham Mad Hatter x reader

oh how dare you ask my favorite iterations. That's so HARD. I think my favorite iteration of scarecrow might be BTAA, but I'm not comfortable writing him yet- so BTAS. Riddler it's a toss-up between Zero Year and BTAS. Hatter is between Arkham and BTAS. If I was answering this on a different day of the week the favorite Riddler might change, I love that man and all his forms.

OKAY. coin flip- Zero year Riddler and Arkham Hatter. Obviously if anyone wanted different versions of this prompt please feel free to send it!

TW: NSFW, little fear kink

BTAS Scarecrow

He almost drops his phone. It wouldn't be the first time. In fact, he's chastised you to not do this- if for no other reason than you being personally responsible for three cracks across the beaten up phone screen. He clicks his tongue and frowns.

He chooses not to respond. It's a game for him. Not to show he's angry, no, but to keep you on that little precipice of fear. Since he is possibly the worst at returning texts anyways, you likely won't put too much thought into it. But he is thinking. Brewing. As soon as he's done with his business...

Jonathan purposely chooses to stay in costume. Whichever costume might be your favorite. He uses his key to your shared home... quietly. Oh-so-quietly that you might barely be able to detect someone there. And he sees you, skimpy dressed and waiting by the phone for a response. Your back turned to him.

You jump a little at his hand grasping your jaw from behind, his other on your abdomen. The rough material of his mask kissing your neck. His voice is almost a growl, "Didn't I tell you not to distract me while working?"

Your own voice is coy, "I just missed you, that's all." The way your heart races gets his blood flowing other places than his brain.

His hand drops low between your legs, making you squirm, "Then I suppose a lesson is in order on listening, wouldn't you agree? If you listen... you might just finish tonight."

"And if not...?"

"Well. I'll still enjoy myself."

Zero Year Riddler

The smug look that goes over his face. His dear Aphrodite/Adonis? Sending him a token of their favor? If he wasn't occupied... well. You might be getting a little something back. Alas. He sends you a note to keep your eyes on the news. And not to get dressed.

His grand plan to heist Gotham is like most- showy, theatrical and the cops are five steps behind. Batman three. What you hadn't been expecting was a gesture in your honor, your name in literal lights. He'd managed that rather quickly.

See, in his mind, he expects to hide the cash, get home and find you posed on his bed waiting for him. It's not a lot to expect, is it? Even if it's not exactly to the mental picture, however, he can hardly wait to see you. Investigate any potential lingerie up close.

"And just what were you expecting, hm? A treat? Some great reward for showing what I already know to be mine?" He grins wide as his hands caress your legs, "A silver tongue? Shh, shh, it's alright. That's exactly what you're going to get. So why don't you spread these gorgeous thighs and give me your best high note?"

You are going to be quite the mess by the time he's done with you. And then he's going to fuck you until all you can think of is his name.

Arkham Mad Hatter

Oh-ho! He's in a giggling fit as the picture flashes up on his phone. Due to his head in the clouds behavior a lot of people assume he'd be useless with a phone. On the contrary, he's too good with it. Messaging you all kinds of nasty things-

Then he's interrupted by the goon he's working with. Oh, right. Suddenly this all seems so boring in comparison to what he could be doing. How droll it would be to give it all up and go see his dearest Alice immediately! ...But unfortunately this plot took far too much planning and preparation to simply throw away.

He's almost pouting the whole time, it's sad. Sending you filthy limericks to preview all the things he wants to do to you once he's home. You very well might get a hasty, slightly blurry photo of his dick if you get him riled enough. Tufts of his brown-red hair at the base, his hand cradling the shaft.

"Enough to make your mouth water, isn't it, you wicked creature..." He texts to you. Considering the almost Pavlovian hold he has on some of his partners, that could be exactly what you're experiencing. Send him more photos to keep his night exciting!

When he does get home, he's going to be tearing any scrap of clothing off of you. It's fine, he can fix it or make something new later. Right now he wants you begging on your knees, prepping for his cock inside of you.

[pompous-puffed-up-penguin]

Reenactment (BTAA!Scarecrow x Fem!Reader)

You and Jon decide to act out one of his favorite scenes in one of Basil Karlo’s films...with an erotic twist, of course.

AN: This man has me by the throat, so of course, as soon as I got this idea, I had to write it down before I lost it to the void.

CW: Roleplay, Consensual Non-Consent, Knifeplay, Slight bondage, Rough sex, Biting

Word count: ~1200

The stage is set. Your wrists are bound, tied to the bed post in rope that scratches and reddens your skin. Wearing nothing but a plush bath robe, you are at the mercy of your captor, your husband, Paul Batcher.

At least, that’s how the scene of one of Jon’s favorite movies goes. During a Basil Karlo marathon, in between his random bits of trivia about the actor himself, he was most excited about what was ‘the most controversial scene of his career’. His character, upon finding his wife had been cheating on him with his best friend, abducts her and tortures her in a gruesome finale. It was hard to keep your eyes on the screen, but Jon seemed to delight in how much it fascinated you all the same, even providing his own personal dissection of the climax. You couldn’t help but agree with his opinion that despite the horror, there was something erotic hiding behind every action Paul performed.

So with some editing to the original script, you were here, playing the role of Charlotte, the unfaithful wife. Armed with only your safe word, you listen as Jon hums, polishing his switchblade until it shimmers in the lamp light.

And action.

“You remember this, don’t you?” Jon smirks, perfectly mimicking the one Karlo wore in that infamous scene (you can’t help but wonder if he's practiced it before). “My birthday present. And you remember what you told me when I opened the case?” He turns, and his grim expression sends shivers down your spine. “‘So sharp, you could shave your face with it.’ Well,” he says as he steps toward you, “I haven’t the guts to try something like that. Not on myself, at least.”

 Slowly, he brings the blade towards your face, and you swear you can see your reflection in the polished steel. You hold your breath as it hovers over your cheek, just barely touching your skin. “But I’ve taken good care of it. Bet you wouldn’t even feel a cut from it.” With the tip, Jon traces his knife down from your cheekbone to the bottom of your chin. Even though he’s not pressing hard enough to draw blood, you hold your breath, keeping still as Jon’s other hand lingers over your throat.

It's your cue now. Remembering how the scene went, your voice shakes as you beg ‘Paul’ for forgiveness, you can talk this out.

Jon sighs, his lip curling into a grin. “Too little, too late. But you were never good at thinking ahead. No,” he purrs, trailing the blade down the side of your neck. A whimper sneaks past your lips, your nerves on fire from the mix of sensations. Jon’s voice vibrates through your bones, down to your pelvis, causing you to cross your legs in a feeble attempt to hide your arousal. But he seems to have noticed, as his own leg comes forward, wedging itself in between your thighs.

 “You’re not even thinking about what I really want to do to you. You’re only thinking about yourself.” Jon brings his knife to the belt keeping your robe closed. “And how much you want this robe off.” He digs it into the loose knot of the belt, using the flat to lift it up and undo it. After laying the ends aside, he sneaks his blade in between the folds, and the cold steel against your lower stomach makes you gasp and shudder.

Your heart races, pounding as you concentrate on staying still for Jon. It wasn't as if you didn't trust him. But you know that one slight move from you might result in an accidental injury, especially as he draws a circle with the tip just below the ribs. Even so, the adrenaline coursing through is enough to make you soaking wet, and Jon's knee rubbing up against your sex only accentuates it. You don't even notice him undoing his belt, pulling down his pants and revealing his own excitement as he sets the blade aside.

This was the biggest departure from the original scene now, but you almost forget to moan out the main character's name. You fumble in your clouded mind, calling for Jon instead of Paul, but the scene continues just the same. In fact, you hear a small laugh from your partner, amused as he sneaks a little kiss and nibble on your neck to draw more noise from you.

"How many names have you cried out on this bed?" With two fingers, he presses down just above your groin. "How many have you taken?" He traces down, brushing over your clit and rubbing against your lips, eliciting whimpers and whines as you finally get some proper attention down there.

No, concentrate. What was your line again? 'I'm sorry...I'll do whatever you want, just throw the knife away. You know I would do anything for you.' Well, you did the best you could, anyway. Jon's rubbing, combined with him sneaking inside to massage your insides didn't help.

"Yes, pumpkin," he purrs in your ear, "I know you would." He brings his hips forward, his erection throbbing as he brings your legs over his shoulders. He lines himself up to your cunt, and your breath stops as you stare into his hazel eyes.

"Then scream for me."

And he plunges his 'blade' into you. The sudden thrust sends pain shooting through your sex, making you cry out and arch your back as he lingers inside. His breath shakes, and he grits his teeth as he moves his hips back. With another thrust, the pain courses through you again, but behind it, the hormones work to turn it into pleasure. The safe word rises up your throat, but you swallow it down. Even though Jon's sudden thrusts hurt, it's not an unwelcome pain. Again and again, he stabs into you, and your cries and whimpers spur him on. Eventually, your body catches up with his, and you come as his cock digs into you.

"That's it," he growls in your ear, his hips slamming into yours. "Just like that." Suddenly, he grabs your face, making you look up at him. Jon pants, his lips upturned in a sadistic snarl. "Look at me when you come. I want my face burned into your eyes."

Just the way he glares at you, forcing your gaze towards him, sends you over the edge again. Your body was going to hate you for this later, but the abuse was addicting. Without thinking, you cry out Jon's name, forgetting about the scene, only focusing on how he fucked you like an animal, nibbling and biting on your neck and shoulders, marking you as his. And finally, as he reaches his peak, he groans as he bites down, hard, on your shoulder. With one final thrust, he finishes, panting heavily as your insides are coated with his seed.

Your muscles twitch, the final orgasm running its course as Jon pulls out. After wiping the drool from his mouth, he grabs his knife again, and with an effortless flick, he cuts the ribbon around your wrists, freeing you. Then he falls over next to you, and the two of you lay close to each other as you catch your breath.

Finally, you find the strength to move yourself closer to Jon, resting his head on his chest. You're met with an arm around you and a kiss on the forehead.

"Brava..." You hear him whisper. "What a performance. What a spectacle."

If he thinks he's getting an encore, he's going to be disappointed. You're going to need at least a week to recover from this.

"Ah, well." He says in mock disappointment, giving another kiss. "Wouldn't want to spoil our appetite, now."