“You cannot know, cannot comprehend, the restraint it takes for the Scarecrow to not keep you chained down here. To experience nothing but his needs and selfish wants as he claims you over and over. Here, for no one else to touch or kiss or harm. You would never need worry about another monster again. Only me. And I would rejoice in tearing you apart only to have the honour of stitching you together time and time again.”
This utterly stunning piece was created by the wonderfully skilled @chaoticscheisty and showcases Jonathan Crane getting ready to devour his witty girl as part of their games in the latest chapter of my ongoing Whole Day Off series. I am in complete AWE of it 😩💉🎃
Pairing: Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow (Arkham Knight) x Reader
Summary: It's been years since the incident with Killer Croc that left Jonathan scarred and beyond recognition. Still, it hasn't changed how much you love him. While he struggles with the daily aches and pains, he gives you the opportunity to 'nurse' him, and you can never say no to your favorite patient.
Word Count: ~3k
Content: Pretty sweet and tender, references to injury/mauling, AFAB!Reader, established relationship (before Asylum), helping Jonathan with bandages/wraps, improper use of wraps and latex gloves, nurse / doctor/ patient being used, slight degradation, mostly Jonathan being horribly whipped and in love with you. No protection, PiV sex, riding.
A/N: Yeah I don't know what happened I got so emotional thinking of AK!Jonathan and cried like oh my god,,, my ugly wife. I need to care for you. It inspired this along with my playlist for him he makes me cry and this became very emotional so uhhhh happy nice kinktober post? Honestly they're all gonna be pretty loving and tender.
Work under the cut!!
It has been a hard two years for Jonathan ever since the incident at the Asylum. Broken limbs and torn muscles could only be fixed so much, and the pain remained. It was difficult to move as freely as he once could, and in many ways, he regretted ever taking things such as a functioning body for granted. Even eating proved tiresome at times.
In these moments, he had half a mind to ask you why you even stayed. Despite the very obvious changes he undertook- the pain, the humiliation, the ugliness of it all- you had little reaction to it after reuniting from the two years he was gone. You still adored him all the same (which also made him want to evaluate your brain) and were worried about his health. It was strange being cared for in such a manner, even if his ego wanted to react.
Still…
“You needn’t worry about me, dear. I’m just resting a moment,” he stated, watching you with his one good eye as you were surely about to come over and see if he was alright. A part of him was ready to recoil and force himself to work, but his leg wasn’t complying.
“Please, don’t move, Jonathan,” you urged. “You need to rest.”
“I cannot spare a moment to rest,” he said under gritted teeth. “There is work to be done. The militia-”
“The Knight can handle it,” you retort. “You can spare a moment to sit. What good is a leader who can’t even lead?”
He sighed, letting his head fall back on the couch. “Fine.”
“Good. You can be the patient right now and lay back.”
“And I assume you shall be my everpresent and compassionate nurse?” He replied, somewhat sarcastically. It’s not that he minded, but he wasn’t enthused with being labeled the ‘patient’ this time around.
“I could be,” you responded. “And what does my patient want?”
“You are the nurse. You’re supposed to nurse me,” he quipped. Even in his lowest, he still had to have the last word. “But, I think you can handle my regimen. The bandages over there and the pills in here.”
It was a big show of respect and vulnerability from him, a side that he would only show to you. A position that revealed how fragile he was underneath his genius and bravado. You quickly got the supplies and sat beside him, kneeling over to undress him. You could see the scars, the damaged tissue, the torn pieces of his body that Killer Croc had mauled off. It was a miracle he was alive. But Jonathan seemed to pay no mind to it, silently turning his head away to let you do your work.
You didn’t want to worsen his state or upset him further by asking about the clear damage (what is one supposed to say to ‘does it hurt that he ate your face off?’), so you opted to just gently run your hand over his skin. He shivered at the contact, still refusing to meet your gaze. You cleaned up any wounds you saw with a tender touch, dabbing at the skin.
“You’re warm,” he mumbled. You didn’t know what that was supposed to refer to, but you understood from his wistful tone that he meant it as a compliment. So you continued.
“Lift your arm. Can you do that?” You ask sweetly, your fingertips grazing his arms as a silent reminder you’d help him. He nodded, lifting them up so you could wrap the bandages across his chest.
For Jonathan, the sensation was overwhelming. You were warm, so very, very warm, and it overtook any other thought in his brain. His mind that was used to screaming in agony- whether from physical or mental scarring- was now focused solely on you.
You.
You, you, you. Angel that he didn’t deserve, who descended upon him with such warmth. He had never felt that before. Not with anyone who wasn’t you. But something felt different today, something that reminded him just how lucky he felt to have you. You stayed. By god, you stayed and you looked at him with those eyes and that smile. He wanted to cradle it forever.
And you, you were oblivious to the turmoil inside. You were focused on simply healing him, like he was the most important thing in the world. And your hands- the delicate skin of your hands contrasted so heavily with his mangled and grafted skin. Your breath was hot against him, and his good eye glanced down to see the rise and fall of your chest. It was steady. Constant.
He wanted more, selfish patient that he was.
He swallowed. How long had it been since you two have been intimate? Certainly, not any time recently. He had refused it, not wanting to show you how ruined he had become, his insecurity and his thirst for revenge overtaking his desire to lay you down. And that scent. It smelled so fresh, so nice, so you- not the stench of chemicals or gunpowder or blood and rot that permeated every wretched part of Gotham.
He inhaled deeply, letting himself drown in you. And he reached out, his gloved hand reaching to your rear and pushing you closer to him.
“You’re a terrible nurse,” he began. You stopped, holding the wrappings in your hand.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I-”
“Do you always entice your patients like this? Do you always so shamelessly let them fantasize about you in such a manner?” He continued and you could see the telltale smirk forming underneath the burlap mask. You felt heat rise to your cheeks and you chuckled.
“No, not all of them.”
“So I am the only one?”
“Maybe,” you replied. “My favorite patient gets only the best treatment from me.”
With that, you pressed a kiss to the remains of his lips, which he reciprocated. That was all it took for Jonathan to show his excitement.
“Then treat me. Heal the ache from within. Rid me of all this tension so that I may rest peacefully.” He urged you forward, trying to get closer to you. You grinned and moved to take off your outfit when he shook his head. “No. Keep it on. I love that one on you. I want to see it utterly ruined as you take care of me.”
You complied, unbuckling his pants to deal with his rising member, careful to not agitate his broken leg. As you did, you noticed the box of latex gloves he kept on the cabinet nearby, walking to grab a pair. You put it on and Jonathan seemed to get more excited, his eyes trained on you as his breathing grew more ragged.
“I must examine you first, darling. Make sure everything is working properly,” you said, grabbing lube to place atop the glove, chuckling as he swallowed. You began to wrap your fingers around his member, stroking the same spot with your fingers and not moving. He hissed, narrowing his eyes at you.
“T-tease. What kind of test is this?” He snarled under his breath.
“Just checking your senses,” you replied with a smirk, then began to move. You worked your hand up and down, working him up further.
“God… just like that, darling…” he murmured, closing his eyes. His muscles tightened and tensed, his heart rate picking up as you stroked him.
“My, my, you seem to be in good shape. Your body is reacting to the stimuli and it is generating plenty of fluids too.” You ramble clinically, as if actually running a diagnostic test. Any semblance of medical practice is thrown out when you lean down to let your tongue run along his length and collect his fluids. You make a show of swallowing it, watching as Jonathan’s breath hitched.
“I think we need to discuss more fruits in your diet, Mr. Crane,” you tease.
“It’s Doctor Crane to you. I still have my degree even in this state. Now be a good nurse and treat me.”
You complied and continued to move your hand in a nice and easy rhythm. Despite his attitude, Jonathan never liked rushing intimacy if he didn’t have to. And it seemed like now, he was wanting to focus only on your touch with the way he was gripping the couch and closing his eyes.
“Are you feeling better, sir?” You ask nicely after he lets out a particularly relieved moan.
“I would feel much better if you were on top of me,” he replied. Ever since the injury, his leg was much weaker, which often lead to you on his lap to help ease some of the burden. He found he enjoyed it more, seeing you, holding your hips, watching you do the work for him. Exhilarating seeing how desperate you could get for him inside you.
“As my patient desires. We will continue our test,” you keep up, standing up. You pull your outfit up your thighs, allowing him the chance to remove your undergarments for you.
“Hmph. I should report you for wearing this filth underneath your outfit. Treating your patients with this garment on? What, did your education insist that teasing the sick is fundamental, or did you figure that riling men up was a good use of your time?” Harsh, but he never played fair or nicely. Not when it came to you.
His fingers let the underwear drop, smirking in delight as he noticed it drenched. “Oh my, you must love caring for your patients. Is this for me or do you get this way for all of them?” He asked, his fingers drifting up your thighs.
“Oh, only for you, sir. I want to make sure you get treated the best you can.”
“Thank the lord for giving me such a dedicated caretaker,” he replied, the tenderness coming through even in this playing act.
Two of his fingers run along your slit, thrilled at the feeling of your arousal dripping all over him. “Mm… my, I know I am in good hands. As are you, aren’t you dear?”
Before you could respond, he slipped his two fingers into your tight channel, curling them in and out with clinical precision. You moaned at the sensation, but Jonathan was too busy feeling your body to focus on anything else. He couldn’t rely on much besides touch, and what he touched felt beyond lovely. Wet, warm, constricting-
“-Perfect,” he growled. “Always so perfect for me.”
Jonathan rarely ever ascribed anything as perfect, but you always managed to flip that around. You managed to be perfect in every way, and your body was a masterpiece he wished to continue learning every facet of.
“How I’ve missed this sweet, sweet body. Won’t you treat a poor soul to your warmth?”
In a more normal time, he would have easily teased you for hours until you were desperate and a wreck. But this wasn’t normal, and the time you two spent apart had reminded him of how dear it was to be entwined with you. He was more impulsive and less in control- he needed this, needed you. He reluctantly removed his fingers, letting the strings of fluid collect on his digits as he examined it. He brought them to his scarred mouth and let his tongue taste the remains of your arousal.
“Exquisite,” he whispered in euphoric bliss. “Come, my nurse, show me once more what it means to come alive from your touch.”
You felt the hazy sense of lust overtake you, stroking his thighs to ease him as you settled between his legs on top of him. His hands made way to caress your sides, letting his calloused skin go down the soft dips and swells of your body. You looked into eyes, seeing the glassy blue that couldn’t see anymore locked onto your form, anticipating your coupling. You leaned down to press a kiss to his face before sinking down on him slowly.
He hissed at the sensation, overwhelmed as his nails dug into your skin. “This damn...”
“Shhh…” you cooed, pressing a hand to his chest. “I got you, Jonathan. Let me take care of you.”
You didn’t need anymore encouragement as you slowly rose up from your knees, feeling him slip out. Jonathan’s breath was caught in his throat at the feeling of your heat removing himself from you. He wanted to drag you back down quickly and move you on his own terms, but in an act of deference and mercy, he let you choose the pace. He let you move as you wish, entrusting you to his pleasure as he let his mind quiet down.
“Please…” he begged, stoking your desire.
The office was soon a symphony of moans and quiet groans, mainly from Jonathan. You were above him, whispering such sweet nothings in his ear and promising forever to him. Although his retinas were damaged, his blue irises were reverently staring into you, watching your form. Your soft flesh against his rough and scarred skin, the way the sweat dripped off you, the way your lips parted as you babbled your love for him or expressed your pleasure. Pleasure he was providing you. The way your thighs tensed with every bounce or how your fingers would press against him to maintain some semblance of mind, yet still were careful to not further exacerbate his pain.
Letting his impulse get the best of him, he grabbed the roll of bandages beside you two on the table in one hand, then removed your arms from his body to move behind you. You helped him by keeping them there, not even aware of what he was doing, when he bound your arms together with the wrap. He kept a small trail for him to yank and pull as he wished, manipulating your body easier.
“There. All mine. Stay with me forever, my dear, like you promised, ” he growled. “I don’t want to be treated by anyone but you.”
His hand snaked back to your thigh, squeezing the mass there as he tugged on the wrap to arch your back straighter. The angle forced him deeper and made you tremble, sighing his name in a way that made him almost believe in heaven again. The coil in his body was tightening, the fire inside burning to a high pitch as he shakily inhaled. The sound of skin against skin drove him further towards the edge.
“I’m close. Take me there,” he commanded. “I want to finish inside you, dear.”
You nodded, desperate to finish with him as you moved faster. He could feel your walls tightening, how it fluttered to signal your impending climax. The hand on your thigh moved up again to your pelvis, his thumb pressing in to feel the imprint of himself within your body. You gasped as he pressed into you, making you more aware of him inside.
“D-doctor!” you struggled, earning a low growl from him.
“That’s it. Let me remember every inch of you. I want to carve each sensation and sound you make into my brain,” he whispered hotly against you. His movements became less controlled, more erratic and random as he sputtered. His thumb returned back lower to circle your clit. With a loud cry of your name, he yanked the bindings on your arms and harshly arched you as he came.
As he promised, he didn’t remove himself, finishing inside your waiting and willing body while he continued to overstimulate himself, not wanting to end this prematurely. Especially not before you finished. You trembled in his lap as the heat grew, his finger and body still working to pleasure you. With a few more well placed motions to your pearl, you crested and cried out his name.
“Just like that…” he crooned, a slight smirk on his face as he continued to extend your orgasm. “Breathe for me, darling. You can manage.”
You shuddered and gasped for air, shaking above him as he tore the bandages restraining your arm. They fluttered to the ground and you let your arms weakly wrap around his neck as you rested your head against his chest. You could hear the sound of his heart beating at a fast pace, the energy you exerted catching up with you both. His hands moved to pull you closer, one in your hair to keep you against his chest, the other moving in gentle motions up and down the curvature of your spine.
The outfit you wore was a mess and clung to you like a second skin, something Jonathan reveled in. Seeing you so put together, only to become a wreck because of him, by him, for him, always thrilled him.
“Such wonderful medicine. I feel better already,” he joked, his hand traveling down to your rear.
“I’m glad it could help, Doctor,” you hummed, opening your eyes to gaze at his masked face. “You know I always want to care for you.”
“And care for me you do. Perhaps I should promote you to my personal nurse. Never let you out of my sight.”
“You already do that.”
“Mmm, but I think we need to make it more official. So that the Knight and the others don’t get any ideas. Nor that blasted Bat,” he snarled at the thought of the Caped Crusader. “I would hate to see them attempt to take my love away.”
“It will never happen,” you assure with an affectionate smile. “I love you far too much.”
“Perfect,” he whispered with a peck to your forehead. “I do think, though, I will require more of your special treatment again soon. But my faithful and kind nurse will indulge a sick man, won’t you?”
“Always,” you promised, drawing circles on his chest as you two laid on the couch, still connected.
Okay this might sound a little odd or perhaps you’ll wanna gloss this over since technically it’s been done without this context. But reader and Herm getting real into it, he’s making some more confident moves as they make out, but when he tries to tug at either of their clothing they kinda lose the enthusiasm. When he catches on it leads to them talking about how they do like sex and him but they are just really turned off and uncomfortable with being naked or being touched while naked.
Combined with this post by @waterboyfucker and GN!Reader because...I said so.
He was too wet, and so handsy. Weekend fast approaching, his last break of the day ticking away by the second. But he wanted you, needed you. That's why you were pressed up against the supply closet wall. Lips locked with his, water dripping down your chin and soaking your work shirt as he groped and squeezed and tugged. Tugged too much, too close. Your hand shooting down to grab his wrist as his fingers made an attempt to untuck your shirt.
"Is-is something wrong-did I do-do you want me to stop?"
He was panting against you lips, pulled back just enough to speak. Nose still bumping against yours, foreheads still pressed together. You shook your head. Cupping his face and swallowing the mouthful of water sitting against your tongue.
"No, no never. I'm just...I'm not feeling very...I don't want to be touched, on my skin today that's all. I still want to...you know. But, can...I want to keep my clothes on, if that's ok?"
He froze, eyes widening and softening. Getting ready to say something. To praise you and dispel any and all doubts you might have in your mind regarding your body as being anything other than the picture of perfection. But you already knew every word he was about to say. You knew the compliments and and the kisses that would come with it.
And you knew your doubts were silly, but your logical brain and you emotional brain were not on good terms right now and you just wanted him. So badly. it didn't matter if you got off or not. You just needed him out of that suit and moaning so loud everyone in the hallway could hear how good you made him feel.
So you pulled him down for a kiss, silencing him before he had even begun. Getting him whimpering into it until he had forgotten all about the words stuck in his throat. Pulling back for just a moment to find his zipper and tug it. Down his long neck, over his collarbone.
"I can do other things. I still have my hands and a mouth..."
You pressed kisses to the newly exposed skin. Glistening in the dim light from the overhead light globe. Biting and sucking. Zipper moving down and down and down. Over his chest, his stomach. He shivered. Grabbing your hands, stilling them as he took in a measured breath, trying to blink away the film of lust blurring his vision. Or maybe his goggles were just foggy. He couldn't tell.
"No-No I've seen-wanted to try-I have an idea"
He pulled back, just enough to fully unzip, pulling the suit off his shoulders to hang around his hips as he took himself out. Long and wet and so, so hard. Tip pink and weeping. He spun you around, pressing you against the wall chest first. One hand on the back of your neck and the other wrapped around you hip, pulling you back and pressing your thighs together tightly. Feet either side of your own, holding you in place.
"Herm, what are you-oh!"
He slipped himself between them. Sliding against the fabric of your pants. Tucked up against your groin. You could feel the heat, the moisture, the firmness of him, all of him. One thrust, two, three. testing the waters as you whimpered. Palms pressed against cool dry wall. Nails trying to dig in, grab a hold of something anything.
"Oh shit, that can't...they're cotton, you'll hurt yourself. Friction and-"
He slipped his hand around to your throat, Squeezing gently, arm snaking around your waist. Angling you back just right as he whined and panted in your ear. So close, so wet. Your uniform was going to be ruined.
"Its ok...because you can kiss it better, right?"
He thrusted, slow and long. Nudging down the collar of your shirt just enough to find a patch of skin to suck and lick at. Water dripping down your spine, making you shiver and moan.
"Yeah, yeah I-I can-shit, Herm"
The thrusts got faster, more erratic. The snap of his hips rubbing you just right through your work pants and underwear. Friction on friction. Hot, wet and so so good. Until he bit down on your covered shoulder. Sobbing through it as you followed suit. Head spinning, a mix of turned-on and embarrassed. Creaming your figurative jeans as he humped your thighs like a couple of teenagers after prom.
His grip loosened, hands dropping down to just hold you close as he sniffled and gulped in air.
"Can we-I want to-When we get home...we can turn the lights off if-if you want to try with-without?"
Your head was spinning. Body shaking. Lights off, no eyes on you, maybe...maybe you could be ok with that, possibly. And even if you weren't, you knew he wouldn't push it. Wouldn't make you do anything you were uncomfortable with. Maybe, just maybe it could work. And if it didn't, you could always do that again.
"Yeah...yeah sounds good. I can...I can try, without, maybe"
You'd have to send him to your locker for a change of clothes. These one were ruined. Soaking wet and covered in unspeakable stains. But to be honest, you didn't think the new set would fair much better once you got home.
a/n: so I've come to realize that as an artist, I'm very very fond of the "drawing your crush and getting caught/seen doing it" sorta trope…especially since I tend to try and draw my fictional crushes it just feels very fitting lol. And I have already sorta done these type of headcanons for Riddler and thought why not do them for the other Rogues I write for? Starting with one I have experience drawing in real life! Hope you guys enjoy! Penguins and Scarecrows are coming soon!
The Mad Hatters React to Reader Drawing Them
Arkhamverse Mad Hatter
Jervis instantly notices when you're…distracted.
It's not like you to purposefully ignore him
He takes note how often he finds your nose stuck in your sketchbook.
Jervis was always keen on your creativity, the two of you often engaging in each other's imaginations.
Yet, he never imagined the day…you actually illustrate him.
Seeing your accurate sketches of him—how detailed…the kind of detail that's only captured by an attentive and caring artist.
Jervis is surprised but delighted and a sweet lucid thought comes to his mind…
This is how you see him, and he enjoys how you perceive him.
BTAS Mad Hatter
Jervis is a rather animated muse.
Jervis was always curious to what you were constantly scribbling on your empty pages…
You always shied away from showing him any of the finished pages though—only fueling his curiosity.
When he finally sees your sketchbook full of drawings…and sees that some-most of them consists of him--he's shocked.
Jervis is very flattered and quite speechless…he's always found himself admiring others but to be…admired so…
He is appreciative, face flushed and barely able to vocally give his gratitude and compliments to your talents.
Now whenever he sees you sketching away, Jervis puts some extra effort to move slowly and try to keep an interesting pose and/or expression for you to draw.
TNBA Mad Hatter
Jervis is always interested in learning more about your hobbies.
And he was excited when you mentioned that you enjoyed drawing in your spare time.
Ever so curious, he's always wondered what inspired you—and just what you drew day in and day out…
Jervis does a double take when you conceded to showing him your drawings and sees himself as a prominent subject.
Even though he sees it, he can't help but verbally ask if this is him you drew…so accurately and so many times.
He can't help but recall some gestures and expressions the moment they happened…
Like his BTAS counterpart, he's in awe and speechless but is delighted all the same.
And he would like to see more of your work in the future.
HQTAS Mad Hatter
Definitely has tried on multiple occasions to sneak up behind you as you're drawing
Jervis took a peek when you leave your sketchbook out in the open.
He never once expected to actually see himself in your pages.
He's honestly stunned at the discovery.
Now he sort of feels like an asshole for snooping, not that he'd admit it out loud.
You never realize that he's actually seen your sketchbook.
However now when he sees you catching glances at him—
He doesn't mind it now realizing that you aren't just staring at him to annoy him….
Joker's Asylum Mad Hatter
Jervis couldn't be more delighted to have another artistic mind alongside him.
He's always ecstatic to show you his art but he wishes you would be more open to share yours…
Jervis does understand the need for privacy or perhaps being shy about showing something so personal.
He proceeds to show you all his updates in his storybook…in hopes it may encourage you.
When you do finally show him, he feels so honored and privileged!
Then he sees his own portrait staring back at him…in fleeting moments you've managed to capture.
Jervis is surprised, delighted, and amazed all at once.
He's the star in your sketchbook just like you're the star in his storybook!
Secret Six Mad Hatter
Well, aren't you both just little creatives.
You're over there sketching while he's making hats.
He can't deny his curiosity.
You have helped him draw and design some hats—it was a fun activity between missions.
One day, when you finished your sketchbook, you decided to finally present it to him.
You're not sure what made you decide to let him—perhaps a gesture of your budding friendship
Jervis was delighted, paying attention to every page…but immediately stopping whenever he saw the sketches of him.
You drew him so well, captured features he's even forgotten about. You paid so much attention to him…
He feels lucky to have such a talented and kind friend like you…
I tend to be paying attention to other things in BTAS so I always forget that they got away with including realistic guns by sticking to old timey gangster guns instead of then-modern weapons. But that's cool as hell honestly, like it was completely perfect for the show's aesthetic anyway. Dedication to the bit. And I am irrationally delighted to realize that the Mad Hatter's gun in "Worry Men" is prrrobably a Remington 95 Double Derringer, aka THE classic concealable tricky asshole bastard gun. I barely know gun shit and I'm still like WAIT I KNOW THOSE!!
I need to find a gun nut blog with more Batman who-carries-what trivia besides the obvious "those over there are tommy guns." Like I saw someone point out that in Batman Forever, Two-Face uses two .22 pistols and THAT'S. COMEDY.
uhhhh... @jonathan-cranes-saliva - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
