Thick canvas fabric is a little rough, it makes your skin feel ticklish underneath; but otherwise the dress fits you well – so well, that it had to be made especially for you – and you can see it was made with care.
The way it was sewed – carefully, all stitches kept even – makes you think of his steady hands, of his long, slender fingers. You bite your lower lip, a habit of yours when you think about him. Jonathan is such a talented man, you muse with awe.
You know he's waiting there for you, waiting perhaps a bit too long, but you want to look perfect for him, in this dress he gave you. And you have to admit, you do look good. A corset shaping your waist and highlighting your breasts, with a cleavage wide enough to catch a preying eye. His eye. You let your own hands slide up your body, cupping your breasts just to try it. You glance at your reflection in the large bathroom mirror. You look so erotic in this outfit. Was it really designed to scare people?
Turning around, you check your butt in the mirror. Thankfully, the dress fits there as well. There is no way it is just a coincidence. No one else had it on before you, you just know that – and you feel so proud that you're allowed to be a part of Jon's fantasy. You will be his beloved Mistress of Fear that he had never had.
A soft but sudden knock on the door snaps you out of your dreamy thoughts. Before you can react, Jonathan already cracks the door open. Seeing you in the dress makes him stop for a moment. You can feel his chilling gaze on you, admiring the shape of your body, exploring every and each curve as if you were his handwork – just like the costume he sewed for you.
Not waiting for your invitation, he steps into the bathroom and you can't protest – it is his place after all. You turn to the mirror, pretending to ignore him; but you can't help but notice that his shirt is missing and so are his glasses. His exposed skin looks porcelain-white in this light.
Your eyes meet his in the mirror as he approaches you from behind.
“You look good,” he tells you, his voice a bit dry but his piercing blue eyes staring right at your reflection.
You smile at him, not letting your eyes leave his face. “I know.” You hope he doesn't mind such cockiness from you but this outfit – it makes you feel confident. As Mistress you are so powerful, so strong – almost as if you aren't yourself anymore.
He can probably sense the change in you, his hand reaches for your hip and rests on it with no pressure.
“We will make a perfect couple,” he whispers tenderly, still looking at the reflection of the two of you together. His hand starts to slowly climb up your waist, his touch so light that you almost think he's embarrassed. He was never shy with you before but this outfit – for him it must be something special. He leans down to you, eyes closed and he inhales the scent of your freshly washed hair. “Master and Mistress of Fear...” he hums, his face hidden in your hair.
You can feel his breath, sense his lips so close to your neck. Your pulse increases rapidly and you wonder if he can hear your heartbeat.
You don't know when his other hand joins his right, holding you gently from both sides. His large palms, much longer than your own, are placed right below the line of your breasts – practically cupping them, but not quite. You can see yourself blushing as his narrow lips find their way to the side of your neck, brushing against your skin briefly. You can't deny, you're getting excited but Jon is in the mood for taking it slow.
You tilt your head, encouraging him to plant another kiss on your neck, to suck on your sensitive skin longer and harder but just as you do that, his hands suddenly grab your canvas bra, tugging roughly at the fabric and forcing the straps to snap.
A shocked gasp escapes your lips. It brings a wicked smirk on Scarecrow's face. He cups your exposed breasts, squeezing them lightly and watching your reaction in the mirror. Your nipples are erected, there is no way you can hide your obvious arousal from him, or from yourself. It is almost as if he is showing it to you – showing what he does to you and how good he is at this.
His thumbs start to make small circles around your nipples as he holds your breasts. You bite your lips again, bite harder this time. His teasing drives you crazy.
He plays with you breasts with such delicacy that it is nearly too much to bear. Your stone-hard nipples are begging to be pinched, pinch so hard that it would make you moan in pleasure and pain. Your body shivers at the idea of him going rough on you, you want him to squeeze your tits, to push you on a counter and take you from behind with a quick, forceful thrust.
“Would you join me in the bedroom, Mistress?” His calm, silky voice pierces through your dirty thoughts like a thunder. Your mind is cloudy and you can't bring yourself to a verbal reply.
You nod and he can see it in the mirror.
“I'm glad,” he nods back at you – his Mistress – and leads you by hand to the place of worship.
Sorry, this took fifteen days before I noticed the request! Wrote it in one sitting so I hope it doesn’t suck and you like it.
Original Request: Hello! Can I request An Arkham Knight Scarecrow X a Reader who’s super shy and is scared of almost everything? Like they freak out when they see Jon, but at the same time they love him..?
---
You watched as the clock ticked by, worried as Hell, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. It was approaching 2am and you still hadn’t heard any word from Jonathan. You’d seen the news, understood his motivations, understood why he was doing this but your anxiety was getting the better of you. What if he’d been caught?
You’d brushed the thought away. He’d promised you he wouldn’t, that he would indeed, succeed this time.
Alone in your apartment with only the glow of the television lighting the room, you paced, unable to sleep you knew this was going to be a long night. Outside you could hear the pitter-patter of rainfall, what was usually soothing to you now felt like white noise, like the buzzing anxiety in your chest.
Then there was thunder and you trembled, taking a seat like it was some terrible omen of things to come. You just wanted to be comforted, you wanted to see Jonathan, as ironic as that sounded. He was the embodiment of fear itself, his very visage absolutely terrifying but with you, he’d been patient, kind and understanding of your weaknesses.
You could barely talk around him. He was so brilliant, so eloquent and in turn, you felt like such a moron in his presence, afraid to utter a word.
You curled under a blanket and stared at the television screen not really registering what you were watching, just focusing on the images before you. Take a deep breath, you reminded yourself, just as Jonathan had suggested to you during one of your panic attacks. Exhale, focus on a single point in front of you, notice everything about it, describe it to me.
You focused on the news anchors shirt, bright red like fire, then noticed her eyes, blue like the sky. Thunder rumbled again and you let tears flow, quickly losing track of your grounding exercise.
There was a tap at the glass and you jolted up, staring in the direction of your slider door. You were on the ground floor and you knew who it was and in no time, the door slid open and in strode Jonathan or as he liked to call himself these days The Scarecrow.
You trembled at the sight of him, it was nothing new but he was horrifying to look at and that was the point. He wanted to invoke fear into the eyes of all who looked upon him and it worked. Especially for you, someone quiet who struggled with severe anxiety.
“Are you alright?” He asked, that deep voice making your heart melt.
You nodded solemnly, avoiding eye contact.
Jonathan walked over to the television and shut it off, leaving the two of you in complete darkness. You meeped a little before you felt him resting on the couch next to you, his course fingers running over the supple skin of your face. “You’re shaking.” He said.
You said nothing, happy the darkness concealed your blushing face. “Darling, were you worried?”
Silently you pulled him into a tight embrace, letting the tears flow into his coat.
“Did you practice the grounding exercises I told you about?” He asked. You nodded, resting your head into the crook of his neck, sniffling.
“Good girl.” He said, hand running through your hair. He placed a finger underneath your chin and made you turn to face him. You could barely see him in the dark, listening to the rain, to the beating in your chest and to the rasp of his breathing. “You’ve been so brave my little darling.” He praised.
“Jon,” You finally piped up, “I missed you.”
“I know.” He replied, nuzzling against you. “I missed you too but you understand how important my work is, right?”
“Of course.” You said quickly.
“We’ll keep working on more exercises for your anxiety then maybe, you’ll be able to join me sometime.”
You nodded, wanting that more than ever.
Finally annoyed by the darkness you got up and went to the kitchen, pulling out a lighter in one of the drawers. You came back and lit a candelabra you’d left on a table by the couch. Jonathan always visited you at night so you figured it’d come in handy.
Then with a deep breath, you took a seat and stared into Jonathan’s pale eyes, biting your lip.
“I’ve been thinking.” You finally worked the energy to say. He stayed silent, allowing you to speak further. “I-I’m ready.”
“For?” He knew what you were suggesting but wanted to rile you up, wanted you to say it to him with your own lips.
You were shaking again, your eyes on the floor now, embarrassed.
“I-I want-“ You were hesitant but suddenly you gathered the courage to grab his hands in your own, and squeezed, shutting your eyes as you let the words flow, “I-I want you to make love to me.” You blabbered quickly.
You weren’t looking but from your peripheral vision, you saw that Jonathan had tilted his head.
“Oh?”
“Stop teasing me.” You rasped, feeling yourself getting hot with need. “Jonathan, I love you. I love you so much. Please-“
Jonathan leaned into your ear, nuzzling against you as he did, “You want me to fuck you?”
You felt yourself get so wet at his words, finding it hard to breathe as you blushed.
“Y-yes.” You admitted.
“You want it rough? You want me to put you into submission like the little slut you are?”
You only mewled and held on to him tightly, “J-Jonathan!” You heaved. “Say it then. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”
“O-oh God,” You pleaded, holding onto him tight, yelping like a bitch in heat in his ear, “Please, fuck me. Jonathan, please fuck me like the little whore I am.” He chuckled, his teeth grazing along the length of your neck.
“My beautiful little darling. How long I’ve dreamed of this.” He admitted before he turned you over, hands running through your hair and then pulling. You, in turn, raised your pleated skirt, pulling down your panties, your need for him so evident.
He let go of your hair so you wrapped your hands around the arm of the couch, looking over your shoulder to see Jonathan unfastening his trousers, pulling out his length.
“Be gentle.” You pleaded.
“Of course.” He said, pressing himself against your virgin entrance. Slowly he plunged into you and you exhaled a sigh, head resting against the armrest of the couch. Jonathan pumped his length deep into you, the wetness of your sex letting lose a wet squelching sound as he fucked you. You blushed from embarrassment. “Little slut, looks like you’re in heat.”
“Fuck you!” You mumbled, still embarrassed at the lewd sounds.
“I already am.” He teased. “And you’re so tight.”
“S-stop.” You mewled, not wanting to hear anymore.
“And warm.” He continued, “You fit like a glove my little darling.”
You panted as he continued to pound into you, your moans intoxicating him to continue.
“I-it feels so good!” You rasped, howling, unafraid if anyone in the complex would hear you. “S-scarecrow!” You pleaded, “O-oh Scarecrow. Fuck me till I break!”
“Oh, I can break you.” The Scarecrow teased, voice menacing, terrifying you.
To you, Jonathan and The Scarecrow were two different entities altogether. Jonathan was sweet, patient, and loving while The Scarecrow was malevolent and dangerous. You knew The Scarecrow was mostly there right now, pounding into your backside and you had to be careful.
“Oh, Scarecrow. You’re so big and yummy. Please, be good to me. Please, fuck me like the little whore I am.”
Jonathan’s gauntlet traced over your neck and down your back, the gauntlet with the needles and the fear toxin he’d never used on you. The stuff he swore he’d never use on you. You felt anxiety well in your tummy, beads of sweat forming at your forehead.
“I-I love you.” You reminded him.
“I know little one.” He said in turn as he fucked you relentlessly. “You’re a good girl. I’d never hurt you.” He said, easing your anxiety.
“A-are you going to cum in me?”
“Maybe.” He said softly. There were a few more shallow fucks before he pulled out, huffing heavily, turning you over on the couch so you were on your backside. “But I’m more concerned about your needs.” He admitted, parting his jaws to lick rhythmic strokes along your sopping wet pussy. You let out a hearty sigh as he did, overwhelmed by the pleasure.
“S-Scarecrow!!” You mewled.
His tongue ran along your throbbing clit in heavy circles. You were already aroused so you could feel yourself getting close to an orgasm.
“N-no.” You sighed, writhing against the couch, “I-it’s too soon!”
“No, little one. Cum for me. Cum in my mouth.”
“S-scarecrow!!” You pleaded, “I-it’s going to be big! I-I’m going to cum!” “Then cum my little slut.”
His hot breath against your pussy lips brought you closer and when his tongue spaded against your clit you felt yourself cum in heavy succession. Your pussy contracting, over and over again like a heavy rippling wave until it slowly subsided and you were left panting heavily beneath your lover. “Jonathan.” You mewled.
He looked up at you, mask and jaw wet with your need.
My inbox ate the request so I couldn’t respond to it. Sorry, I totally messed up on the times I said I would post this. I said Friday the 19th rather than 18th but either way, I’m two days late. Got really behind helping a friend move but excuses aside here is the story.
I hope it’s to your liking. I got really high when I wrote it so sorry if it’s a bit incoherent.
---
There was recognition in his pale eyes that stared over you now, there was also hate there, and you, breathing heavy, braced yourself for the worst.
“Why have you come here?” His voice rasped.
You were already shaking. You knew who this was, former Dr. Jonathan Crane now with the moniker Scarecrow. He was a different man now. When you’d met him, sure he’d been malicious, but there had always been a hint a playfulness before, now he was stoic, dangerous, and downright terrifying.
“Why are you here?” He asked again, and it was something you couldn’t answer. You were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. That was the truth. But you knew he recognized and remembered you. You had been an intern at Arkham Asylum not too long ago.
“I recall something,” He said, circling you, “Weren’t you drawn to me?”
You blinked. Sure, you thought he was attractive when you first met him, but that was then. He was wholly disfigured and hiding behind a mask now, his very visage terrifying you to the core.
“I thought you were a very, brilliant man.” You said, voice shaking.
“I know you were interested,” He said, stopping to stare into your eyes, “Do I disgust you now?” He leaned into your ear whispering, “Are you afraid of me?”
You were visibly shaking, tears welling in your eyes. You knew the sort of things he’d done, the experiments he’d run. The fear toxin was something you weren’t prepared to deal with, you were already scared, and you couldn’t fathom your fears being amplified. You were also aware that a lethal dose would induce a heart attack, what a way to go, literally being scared to death.
Scarecrow was still leaned in, his face turned to you, the burlap of his mask scratching you, his breath hot on your skin.
“I-I’m terrified of what you’ll do to me.” You admitted, hoping to find some compassion somewhere in that dark heart of his.
“Good.” He rasped, his hand cupped your face, turning it towards him, “You’re smart to be afraid.” And then he leaned into your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin, “I’ve always been fond of you.” He said, “You were a ray of light in that dreary place, Arkham Asylum…” He said the last part as if it were poison to his lips.
You weren’t sure if you heard him correctly, but then you felt his breath into the crook of your neck, felt his teeth graze and clamp down on a particular spot that made you weak.
A startled yelp escaped you, and he pulled you in tighter, his mouth working to the bottom of your jaw, you swore he’d kiss you in this instance if he could.
“Tell me, what are your fears, child?”
“You.” You breathed, and you could feel him against your thigh, growing harder with every question. He was getting off on this, being aroused by the terror he was instilling in you. You decided to play along, anything to keep him from spraying you with that fear toxin. “I’m so afraid of you, doctor.”
“Doctor?” He chuckled, his hands running up your back, you could feel the needles of his gauntlet through your clothes, and you knew he wanted you to feel them, wanted you to know he was in control. You yipped against him and let the tears flow, hands at his chest, gripping tight at his coat.
“Please,” You pleaded pathetically, “I was good to you, please, don’t hurt me.”
“The little intern at Arkham asylum, all alone now.” He taunted. He was savoring every moment of this, and you knew he was stretching this out like a rubberband, waiting to get you to a point where you’d snap, where you’d be at your peak, and then he’d spray you with the fear toxin. He’d watch you writhe and scream, watch you die.
You cupped him through his trousers, drawing a surprised growl out of him.
“What are you doing?”
You said nothing, maintaining eye contact as you stroked sensually, your breath hitching along with his.
“Do you want more?”
He growled. He knew what you were doing and was aware this was all a diversion for the inevitable, but he was also curious about this. Nobody had ever tried this before.
“Doctor Jonathan Crane,” You purred against his mouth, “I did like you when I first met you,” That was the truth, “I’d been so moved by your work. You’re so intelligent and talented.” You whispered, still stroking along the length of his trousers. “I fantasized about you a lot.” That was a lie.
But you could tell he was eating this all up, you don’t think he’d ever had anyone show any kind of interest in him, let alone in a sexual nature, especially now.
“What would you do? When you thought of me?”
You leaned in closer, rubbing your head against his chest, “I would get so wet, doctor. I wanted you so badly.” You said through pained breaths, strangely enough the more you spoke, the more you began to believe it yourself. Your pussy was getting wet, and you were starting to ache with need. “I wanted to get pounded by you, doctor. Every night I thought of you, thought of getting violently fucked by you. I want you, in me, doctor.” You sighed, reaching down your skirt, feeling your soaking wet panties, “I need you. Please, please fuck me. Treat me like your fucking plaything, doctor.”
You thought that would be enough to do him in, but he remained remarkably stoic, though you could tell his temperament had changed, you knew he was aroused.
“Do you think I’m stupid enough to believe you?” He asked, and your heart sunk to the center of the Earth. His left hand traced along the curves of your body, to your sopping wet pussy, he rubbed you, eliciting a soft moan from you. “You’re so beautiful. I loathe it.” He admitted, pulling aside your panties and slipping two fingers into your aching cunt, “Girls like you were always first to tease me, bully me. I know the sort of games you play.” He said this all as he continued to finger you.
You were moaning against him, your pussy clamping tight against his fingers, “Jonathan!” You pleaded, “Please, believe me. I-I want you.”
“Lies. Like a siren beckoning men in for the slaughter. You’re no different.”
“Doctor,” You breathed, “I-it feels so good, though. I w-want more.”
“Feeble little harlot.” He growled in your ear, “So desperate to live. Willing to give her body to me.”
“Anything for you, doctor.” You moaned, wrapping your arms around him, lifting your leg to give him easier access, “I’m all yours.”
He pulled away from you and turned you around, slamming you down against a console, those needles of his gauntlet tracing over your back. Shivers ran down your spine as you waited in anticipation. You heard him unfastening his trousers and soon felt him prodding at your wet heat. You arched your back, felt his length against your folds, teasing him, coaxing him to continue. His cock parted your folds and slipped in with ease. You mewled as you felt him completely fill you up, and in turn, you heard him sigh, taking a moment to collect himself.
“How do I feel?” You asked.
“So warm,” He said, as he plunged into you, “So warm and tight.” He groaned as he continued to pound into you. A sound you were surprised to hear.
He was rough and relentless but was careful not to accidentally stab you with the needles. You bucked against him, moaning loudly as you tried to milk his cock for what it was worth.
“Doctor, please, please cum in me.” You mumbled.
He seemed surprised by your demand, but rather than give in he continued to fuck you. Your hair obscured your vision, your face hot from lust, you sighed and mewled beneath him, begging that he continue. This went on for quite some time. Just the sound of skin on skin and your ragged breaths in that tight room.
He pulled away from you, and you stood and turned to face him before he pushed you back down against that console, and you parted your legs allowing him entrance once again. This time, however, he raised his gauntlet and sprayed you with the fear toxin.
Adrenaline coursed through your veins when you realized what he’d done, and suddenly fearsome visions came to your attention. Surrounding you, taunting you, your mind was racing so quickly, and you could feel him, Scarecrow, pounding into you as voices laughed and teased. Your heart was racing so fast you thought it’d explode.
“Think this was my first time?” Scarecrow asked, voice deeper like a monster, his visage more terrifying now, you shut your eyes, but the voices were screaming in your ears, the room spinning. You let out a scream, wishing for it to all stop. You could feel that you were still getting fucked senseless, though. Your cries pleasing the Scarecrow.
He was merciless after all, and you were a fool to try and seduce him, to begin with. Your mind was overloaded and before you realized your vision faded to black as you fainted.
Scarecrow stopped and tilted his head to look you over. You were still breathing. Good. He pulled out and dressed before picking you up. You’d make an exceptional little experiment for the future. This had, after all, been a lovely experience for him.
Hi! Can I request an Arkham Knight Scarecrow X Reader where the reader’s pretty badass (I mean, they’re with Jonathan-) and they ended up being just a spy for the gcpd and batman? and when Jonathan’s mad he tries to lock them away and torture them for lying to him.
“Jonathan! I can explain!” You stammered but it was a plea that fell on deaf ears. Goons dragged you by the arms and threw you into a chamber. There was a single window in this room, you pounded against it, pissed as all Hell. “Jonathan! Listen to me!”
The Scarecrow appeared before you, his eyes narrowed as he looked upon your feeble form. You were nothing more than prey at this point. He had you under his thumb.
“God damn it!!” You shouted in disbelief, slamming your fists against the glass, “Jonathan, let me out!”
There was a long bout of silence before he finally spoke. A single sentence.
“I trusted you.”
Your nails scraped against the glass as you looked upon his disfigured face and thought of the times you had together. Though it’d been short you had grown to love this man, as much as you hated to admit it. Now here you were, someone had ratted you out, your intentions had been exposed and The Scarecrow wasn’t going to go easy on you.
He was going to enjoy every moment of this. All his life he’d been abused and demeaned and you had turned out to be just like the rest of them after all. You were to be taught a lesson.
“Tell me, dear, what is it that you truly fear?”
You grimaced, hands forming back into fists, hissing at him.
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“I know.” He retorted, “But everyone has a fear, a weakness or two.” He took a couple steps back and tilted his head, looking over you, “Not claustrophobia granted your current conditions. Perhaps we should delve deeper.” He stared at you and smiled, “Perhaps it’s something as simple as losing a fight? And I think we can both agree, you’re not in the best of situations right now.”
You tried to reason with him.
“Jonathan, I loved you.” The words came easy as ever because they were true, “But you need help. I can get you that help.”
He chuckled at your response.
“Do you think your words will save you?”
“No. I’m expecting the worse.” You admitted, gazing straight into his eyes, “But I want you to know. I did love you, I’m sorry, but you’re wrong about this city. About the world Jonathan. I wish I could get you to see from my perspective. There’s so much good.”
“Good?” He laughed long and hard, “You’re privileged. A pretty face, a beautiful body. You must have had men beckoning to every call. My mistake was believing that you ever had an inkling of interest in me. I wanted to believe. But in the end, I’d admit I was foolish. My desires winning over logic.” He raised his fist with the gauntlet and needles filled with fear toxin, “I did love you. Or better yet, I loved who you pretended to be.”
“But believe me, Jonathan, I do love you. I love you more than I could ever begin to explain. If you’d just trust me. I know you’ve been hurt but just, trust me.”
“No!” He yelled, “Do you know how many plead with me? How many come to me begging I let them go?”
He slammed against the glass, hands plastered against yours and you saw everything in that mere moment.
“Death is too good for you.” He seethed.
“I figured you wouldn’t listen.” You said, “I accounted for this. If you think I’m going to break so easily we’ll see then.”
“So we will.” He said and motioned for one of his goons to release the fear toxin in your cell. It came from the ventilation shafts, a green haze that filled the room sooner than you expected. You prepared for the worse, unknown to you what sort of horrors were soon to arise.
The room began to shift like it were moving on its own, like a sea-saw to and fro and then you began to see things, hallucinations but you kept calm. Though Scarecrow had a horrifying visage already he appeared before you, voice deeper like the very call of death itself. His body aflame, face harrowing but you breathed and repeated that this was nothing more than a hallucination. Closing your eyes his voice still burrowed into the depths of your mind.
“What are you truly afraid of?” He wondered, searching and searching, him and the fear toxin looked through every nook and cranny and found very little. Spiders, maggots, looking like a fool. It did so very little when you were so focused on your meditation. The walls shifted, gave way to new horizons that would have scared anyone to death but you kept focus.
“I loved you.” You continued to repeat through the noise and stress of the situation.
“I don’t believe you.” He said once but every moment that passed an inkling of doubt began to fill in his core and he began to believe. Everything you’d said and done for him had made him feel… better.
“Everything is afraid of something.” His disembodied voice said, tormenting you, filling your head and repeating over and over but it did very little to you. You breathed and allowed the thought to pass before lifting your eyes up to stare into his who stared at you in disbelief now.
“How is this possible?”
“I prepared for this.” You said, “I knew this was a probability so I prepared.”
“It’s -impossible. Everyone has a fear.”
“Maybe I feared losing you.” You said. It was cheesy as all Hell but he paused and thought about it for a long moment before turning to his goon. “Up the fear toxin. She’ll break in time. Everyone does.”
And so the cycle repeated. By the third time the fear toxin had snatched hold of you and caused you great distress. You tried so hard not to scream knowing that’s what Jonathan wanted. He wanted the satisfaction of hearing your cries and suffering. He’d been pained by your betrayal. He wanted to show you and everyone else who stood in his way what he was capable of.
Finally, you screamed, the toxin too strong to keep in control and to his surprise, it pained him more then he could ever have imagined.
He wanted to save you but knew you had to stay as an example.
He did love you but he couldn’t believe your own words.
Left in that chamber you screamed until your voice went hoarse. Tears streamed in his eyes, tears he hid so well. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice.
I currently have three requests so I turned off the “ask” feature and am closing requests until I get those written out. I don’t want a repeat of what happened last time (where I racked up a queue/had a mental breakdown and couldn’t finish writing everything so I had to purge everything and start anew).
We got two Scarecrow fics and The Creeper from Jeepers Creepers coming up. ^_^
so my friend loves the arkham asylum scarecrow ( from the game ) so I am gonna write about steamy situations with him.
it would start out rough. he would insist keeping the mask on to be dominant.
he would start out by injecting the fear poison in you from one of his fingers but, its a special brew he made up that is more sexual in nature. It reveals all of your deepest darkest kinks.
he would treat you like a prisoner and you would have a safeword but, the punishment for ruining date night would be worse than you can imagine.
You would hallucinate and imagine things you never thought were possible in bed.
he would also reveal some of his secret kinks ;)
so, would anyone like a steamy story with this stuff?
