characters: jason todd x reader (except Jason is a transmasc lesbian in this teehee)
tags: masturbation, no plot just straight up porn, transmasculine!jason todd, lesbian!jason todd, she/they pronouns used for Jason, sex toy, jason as a top, reader is submissive and impossibly horny for jason in this.
synopsis: you're a humble librarian that works at one of gotham's public libraries and there's a person named Jacin who happens to frequent your workplace. late at night, you muse certain fantasies about Jacin and how their fingers and mouth would explore the secrets of your body.
a/n: shout out to my best friend with a big brain who said she pictures jason a big, buff, butch lesbian. yeah, yeah.
A light buzz sounds throughout the room, the vibration of a sex toy sending waves of pleasure through your body. You feel yourself panting, your legs sprawled across your bed as your mouth hangs agape. Your mind won’t stop thinking about her. The way she towers over you, their icy, green stare, and toned arm muscles with their wide thighs.
Jacin looks like a person straight out of your darkest fantasies. A pouty, tantilizing mouth with a scar over her top lip, and green eyes that look almost glossed over. Their strong, angular jaw, and her deep set eyes that darken whenever someone is bothering them, the white streak sticking out from her otherwise raven hair.
If you try your hardest, you can picture her now, her head propped between your thighs, licking a line over your slit, then dipping into your wet cunt. Her rough hands would grip your hips as you’d try to break free from them and their merciless tongue. She’d expertly take your clit into her warm mouth, suckling lightly on it, gently pinching it between her teeth, coaxing a sweet moan from your mouth.
You whimper, feeling yourself close to the edge from the mental image alone.
You throw your vibrator to the side, taking deep breaths, and forcing your eyes shut.
There is a creeping sense of shame in what you’re doing right now. Burying a vibrator in your cunt to the thought of someone you’ve never even properly introduced yourself to. A stranger that asks you to check their books in and out of a public library, and maybe you’ve seen them at a gym you go to, ran into them twice at random diners.
You don’t know Jacin, they don’t know you, and yet there’s an insatiable want to have them give you a mind numbing orgasm.
You want those tortured eyes on you, their rugged hands playing with your nipples, and you desperately want them fingering you until you wet the bed under you.
You let out a frustrated sigh and whimper, reaching for your vibrator again. You close your eyes.
Jacin’s hands grip your hair now, and she’s bringing your mouth down on her engorged clitoris.
At least, you imagine it that way. One time you saw them at the gym shirtless, with only binding tape covering their chest, and a line of pumped abs, with a dark happy trail leading down to their v-line. The ‘Y’ shaped scar ranging from her chest, down toward her torso had surprised you at first, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you want to fuck her even more.
In your mind, you’d suck on their sensitive, and engorged clit, crystalline tears forming in your eyes as you stare up at them. You want nothing more than to pleasure her, to make her feel good, have her rut herself wildly against your mouth.
Their wide hips would grind slowly against you at first, back and forth, with her abs flexing and relaxing with each move. She’d wince at the sensitivity of it all, at the slight sting of their bottom growth. Jacin would grunt and groan, keeping your face steady as their cunt rubbed itself up and down your mouth and chin, and you’d be thankful. You’d feel oh, so grateful that a jaded goddess such as she could use you in this way.
You whimper, feeling yourself close, but instead you shove your vibrator into you cunt, strategically keeping the little nub that touches your clit away from you. You groan at the feeling of the toy deep inside of you, easily dragging it in and out of your dripping cunt.
Jacin would be using their strap on you now, burying themselves deep in your cunt, keeping you locked on all fours. She’d cage you in, her thrusts deep and somewhat painful within you. You’d yelp and try formulating small string of words that she’d barely understand. You’d cry about how thankful you are, how happy you are that she’s ruining your cunt, and how much you’d longed for her to be inside you. She’d grip your ass in her rough hands and plant a firm slap on one of your cheeks, and her raspy voice would murmur something along the lines of ‘You look so sweet but you like it so nasty.’ And a breathy laugh would leave her lips, and your toes would curl as you whimper and draw out a pleading yes.
You can feel the pressure building up in your abdomen, the knot tightening in on itself before its inevitable release. You fully press your toy inside yourself, your wrist nearly cramping as you let out desperate sounds, and then you feel it. The familiar dripping, the sound of your own body relieving itself before your mind even has the time to process it.
Your mouth hangs open as you repeat their name over, and over again.
“Jacin, Jacin, fuck-- Ah!”
You can see Jacin in your head, hear their voice coaxing you into your orgasm, until you let out a loud yelp, feeling your abdomen contract and relax, as you finally reach your climax. Your hand keeps going and you try covering your mouth with your free hand, knowing the walls of your apartment are thin, and you can feel the bed under you begin to soak, the sound of water flowing from you filling the room. You shudder and take deep breaths, feeling yourself keel over, and something in your throat opens to release a small sob.
You wonder how Jacin would react to your crying. Would they be kind and reassuring? Would they laugh and call you a little babe?
You sulk silently as your trembling hand presses the button of your toy, shutting it off. You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling, your chest falling and rising hastily. You hope you’ll meet them again, and you pray that maybe next time you’ll have the confidence to ask them out.
For now, your creative mind and your expert hands will have to do.
Unbeknownst to you, in the rooftops of Gotham, there’s a masked vigilante with a red helmet that goes on nightly patrols for the safety of the city. Jacin was making her usual rounds, and as they come upon the rooftop of a building, she suddenly hears the stifled cries of someone nearby. Jacin looks to the side, noticing the window of an apartment wide open with no curtains.
And then comes the shuddering cries and pleas of a sweet voice repeating their name.
“Jacin, Jacin, fuck,-- Ah!” ‘
Jacin feels their stomach do a cartwheel, moving closer to the ledge, and when she sees your figure, pressed against your mattress and a toy buried deep inside of your cunt, they can’t help but let out a small laugh.
Jacin knows who you are, you’re one of the librarians at the public library she often visits. They’ve thought about you from time to time, but nothing more than how kind you are, and certainly not nearly as graphically as you’re thinking about them right now.
But maybe that should change.
Jacin feels their own body respond to the scene playing out before them, the way your tits move as you shudder, how you let out a few tears from how overwhelmed the orgasm made you feel. It makes their cunt feel warm, beginning to get slick with wetness.
She takes a step back from the ledge, taking a deep breath and focusing on the task at hand. But she’ll turn this scenario over and over in their mind, and there's a small spark lighting in the back of their mind, waiting for the next time you meet.
Headcanons: Gotham City Sirens + Batwoman. [Fem Reader]
What It Would Be Like To Date:
Harley Quinn - Harleen Quinzel
Harley was a nervous wreck at first. Having her previous relationships being what they were, she was constantly on edge.
She sends texts all throughout her day. They consist of what she had for breakfast to what time shes going to bed. She expects the same from you. She manages to text back while crime-fighting with her squad, you can put in the effort.
She enjoys taking you shopping and spoiling you with whatever you want. Interestingly enough, she rarely never has to pay for the items. Maybe it’s the Hyenas.
Speaking of her babies, she trusts you with them, and they trust you. You often end up babysitting.
Once she breaks some of her habits from her past toxic relationships. Harley is very good at communication, having been a top psychiatrist. She’s very aware of what a relationship needs to thrive.
Psychiatrist. She’s always analyzing you, sometimes knowing what you feel before you do yourself. You aren’t sure if thats from her past of walking on eggshells or her doctorate.
She finds little ways to be touching you throughout the day. Fixing your hair or makeup, hand lingering on the small of your back, interlocking your pinkies while walking.
She is big on PDA, she doesn’t care who’s watching or where you are, best believe she’s kissing you whenever she feels like it. Which is all the time.
Poison Ivy- Pamela Isley
Ivy loves kissing you, but she’s less likely to initiate a full on make-out. Instead opting for places like your collarbone, cheeks, or chin.
Her love language is acts of service. When she has the time she’s cooking you meals, running you a bath, brushing your hair. You had to stop her from brushing your teeth for you. It’s not that she sees you as incapable, she wants to take care of you the way she takes care of her plants. Entirely.
Ivy likes for you to call her by her name Pamela, It feels more intimate. She also appreciates a cute nickname
Pamela in return calls you things like: My Flower, Rose, Petal, Darling, Dearest. etc.
Ivy doesn’t text often, but when she does it borders on sensual rather than sweet. Messages that when you read have your cheeks turning red.
Ivy enjoys a nature date, that could consist of anything from planting, to visiting a swamp for a sample of rare algae. She considers anything you do together a date, so she brings you along on a lot of her to-do list.
She doesn’t let you get too involved, not wanting to put her precious petal in danger. You aren’t allowed to accompany her on her missions.
When she irrevocably lands herself in Arkham, you are her first phone call. Apologizing for getting caught and promising her next scheme will make all of humanity (besides you) pay.
Ivy doesn’t trust you to take care of her plants, so when shes away, she’s checking in on them often. More than asking about you
Batwoman- Kate Kane
Kate is a tough girlfriend to have. Often acting steely and cool-headed. It’s hard to know what she’s thinking, even harder to recognize how shes feeling towards you.
She’s fairly wealthy. With her money she is generous. She pays for all your dates, not allowing you to even pretend to fish for your card when the bill comes. She actually takes some offense when you offer. She wants to treat you, let her.
She’s never home at night, out fighting crime and all. So, she leaves you little notes to wake up with incase she doesn’t make it back before the alarm rings. Or make it back at all
Before you found out about her double life, she was even more distant and secretive. If thats possible. How you managed to weasel your way into her routine is something that still surprises her. Going from no-showing your plans to telling you which Villain was currently a pain in her ass.
Buys you things you mention in passing to make up for disagreements. She can rarely bring herself to say “I’m sorry” verbally. Kate shows it with actions instead.
Loves hard. Once she’s in, she is truly in.
Always worried, a bleeding heart like yours doesn’t do well in Gotham. Knowing this, she works hard to make it a safer place.
Catwoman- Selina Kyle
Selina wasn’t one for relationships. She doesn’t like to be tied down, dependent on her own independence. That being as it was, you caught her eye. A rare jewel in the dirty streets of Gotham. She simply had to have you.
Selina sneaks in through your window after a heist. She takes time in making sure she isn’t being followed before scaling your apartment building. A bag of new goodies to show off.
Selina is surprisingly vulnerable. She isn’t afraid of emotions, she’s perfected controlling them.
As she is good at controlling her temper, it can come off harsh and indifferent when temperatures are already high. It’s not that she doesn’t care, but she won’t exhaust herself to outdo you in a yelling match. During intense fights, Selina goes silent. She leaves in the heat of the moment, but always comes back once she’s less annoyed.
Selina is physically affectionate, but it’s teasingly, never lingering in her touches for long.
Selina prefers to be spoiled rather than do the spoiling. Everyone knows she loves looking at pretty things. Part of the reason she keeps you around.
When she’s in a particularly good mood, She speaks softly with you, like someone would speak to a kitten. It’s a glimpse past the aloof persona she wears.
You find random pieces of jewelry at your place sometimes, and Selina denies them being hers. Her roundabout way of gifting it to you.
Summary: Realizing you have feelings for your two best friends on a random summer night.
Word Count: 1.3k
_
It’s a hot, sticky night on your shared wooden balcony when it starts. Katydids sing, crickets chirp, and music drums out of the teal blue portable speaker. It’s a night like most spent during the summer. But this night, you learn something new about yourself.
Abby takes a long sip of the beer in her hands, waiting for Ellie to finish her current task. “You’re not rolling it tight enough.”
“I’m rolling it just right. Shut up.” Ellie retorts shortly, her nimble fingers hard at work. She brings the edge of the paper to her mouth, licking in a line at the edges.
You find yourself staring a little too long at how the saliva turns the thin paper darker in color.
They continue in their bickering until Ellie takes the first puff; the lighter flickers in her hand as she breathes in. Smoke expels from her mouth, and her eyes drift towards you, but her hand passes the blunt towards Abby.
The three of you are sitting in a circle enjoying the humid night air. Despite their similarities, such as sarcasm and the way they both can hold a grudge. Ellie and Abby aren’t very close. You and Ellie were childhood friends. Abby came later, joining in during school years. You were the glue, but over the years they had gained their own understanding of the other.
Abby’s arm reaches towards you; your gaze is taken by the way her muscles flex at the movement. Your mind flickers with a single question: Was she always so enticing to watch?
“Want some?” She asks, but the blunt is already pressed against your lips. “Breathe in.”
You don’t bother to protest that you can do it yourself. You do as she says, breathing in as she brings the lighter up. A cough bubbles in your throat. On the second puff, it explodes from your chest.
Ellie’s amused burst of laughter cuts off the sound of your coughing fit. “Take it easy. Trying to impress us?”
You ignore her and take a swig from your red Solo cup, flinching from the liquor it contains. You’ve learned to disregard teasing remarks. Both of them enjoy riling you up. A little too much for your own health.
Abby passes back to Ellie, rolling her eyes. “Lay off. Not everyone needs to smoke twice a day.”
“She can speak for herself, white knight.” Ellie takes a drag, shrugging off Abby’s scolding.
The remark is supposed to get under Abby’s skin, but she just smirks, relaxing back into the chair. Her arms go behind her head, legs man-spread.
You aren’t sure who to look at, drifting between both of their relaxed positions. Your eyelids droop, the haze starting to set in. Your mind focuses in on thoughts you push to the furthest point of your consciousness. Accepting them would mean change in an already fragile dynamic.
You shift in your chair, forcing your sights back towards the illuminated posts off in the distance. The moon isn’t out tonight. The stars twinkle dimly through the covering of clouds. Attempting to find them in the night is a nice distraction from what is accumulating itself inside of your chest.
The blunt passes between the three of you until it becomes all but ash. You spend the time chatting about nothing and everything, enjoying the companionship between you all.
It isn’t long till Ellie stands and stretches, gesturing with a head nod to take the party inside. Her flannel shirt lifts, revealing bits of her toned torso. As if that’s not enough, the band of her boxer briefs peeks through the top of her bootcut fitted jeans.
Abby joins in rising from her seat. Her loose tank top gets lifted by her going to scratch at her stomach. Her sweatpants hang low on her hips, abs exposed. You guiltily drink in the sight.
You’re stuck in your seat, all but blushing. It suddenly feels hotter outside, and that pushes you to agree for the need of air conditioning. You scramble out of your seat, rushing in through the sliding door before the both of them.
Abby and Ellie share a glance, confused by your sudden rush inside, but shrug it off, joining you in the three-bedroom apartment.
You’re standing at the kitchen counter, trying to ground yourself back to reality, when you feel a presence looming over your shoulder. You turn to find Ellie invading your space, staring over you.
You jump back a bit, knocking into the counter. “Shit! What the fuck!” You breathe, clutching a hand to your chest. “You scared me.”
Abby enters the kitchen at the commotion, leaning against the doorway with her arms folded over her chest. “What’s going on?”
“She’s jumpy.” Ellie remarks, poking you in the shoulder. “I was just coming to get a snack.”
“Not true, you were standing behind me like a creep.” You argue, knocking Ellie’s hand away with your own.
“So now I can’t stand?” Ellie pushes, poking you in the same spot harder. Abby interrupts, brushing Ellie with her own shoulder, a silent sign to drop it.
“You feeling paranoid?” Abby asks. Now with them both standing in front of you, so closely, it fogs your mind further.
You attempt to shake it off. These are your friends, your roommate’s, you spend every waking moment with them nearly. You’ve been closer than this for thousands of reasons, thousands of times.
“Yeah, I think so, maybe I should go lie down—“
“Cut the bullshit.” Ellie interrupts you, waving a hand. “You’re always paranoid. What’s actually wrong?”
You sigh, irritation present in your voice. “I feel off. That’s all. Bad high.”
Abby heads towards the sink, and returns, placing a glass in your hands, ignoring your tone. “Drink some water.”
Once again, you do as she says. Abby is naturally a leader, reasonable, and logical. The water soothes your dry throat and mouth. With the glass in your hands, you slip past them both, headed towards the couch. You need to sit down. You need to stop thinking about Ellie’s signature mocking tone. You need to stop thinking about Abby’s caring actions. More than both, you needed to stop thinking about how they made you feel. Those feelings were forbidden.
They join, sitting on either side of you. There’s something playing on the TV, but none of you are interested in it. All three focused in on the odd, awkward tension brewing in the air.
That was the night you started to realize you had feelings for both of your best friends. What exactly those feelings were was still unresolved. And hopefully, with a little luck, they would disappear.
Ellie taps your thigh, trying to gain your attention. When you don’t react, her palm goes flat against you, fingers spreading over the thin fabric of your leggings. The tips of her nails bite into the skin as she shakes your leg.
You glance down at the hand that is still resting on you. You fumble for words, your hand goes to her wrist, grip tight. Despite the intention to do so, you don’t yank her hand away. “What?”
“What?” Ellie repeats with a scoff. “Abby asked if you need more water.” Her eyebrows knit together, inwardly deciding if your grip is meant to keep her there or threaten her into retreat. She doesn’t move her hand away. It relaxes against you, thumb brushing your skin. She’s concerned. “Spacing out more than usual, huh?”
Abby’s large hand rests against your shoulder, halting you from forming a response. Your head snaps to the other side, meeting a sympathetic smile.
“Hey, relax.” Abby’s hand travels from your shoulder to your chin, looking you over. Her touch doesn’t stay long. She releases you, her elbow nudging your side. “You’re alright, yeah?” Ellie’s hand leaves you as well, busying herself with setting up the console in order to play the new video game she’d been talking about earlier.
Your eyes are glazed over. Every swallow feels like eating sandpaper; water wasn’t helping now. Chill bumps still rise on your skin, yet sweat beads at your forehead. You sit up on the couch and clear your throat.
“Yeah, pass me a controller.”
_
A/N- Thank you for reading! This will be a multi-part series
“Do you ever feel like…” A pause. The words get caught, like pieces of glass scraping over your throat as you speak. Explaining yourself has never been your forte.
“Like?” Ellie questions, her left eyebrow arches. Not entirely puzzled, but in thought. It’s as if she is trying to beat you to the punchline of your own emotions. “Like none of this shit matters?”
She does.
Your shoulders slump, exhaustion. In this world, it’s hard to feel anything but. Constantly looking over your shoulder, constantly afraid, constantly being reminded that you are not safe. You’re never safe. Not even in the deceptively quiet woods.
A bird chirps, the wind is a gentle breeze. Sun is setting, casting an orange and purple glow to the sky. it should be a beautiful scene. It should be something out of a movie, sat atop this lush hill of green. Almost romantic.
The grass crunches under your weight as you shift your position, steadying the long range rifle propped up in front of you. Down below, what was once a human, walks along. Its movements are jerky, the start of fungi creeping out of its eye sockets and mouth.
You exhale, preparing to take the shot, but Ellie beats you once again. The sound of gunfire rings out, and you see the woman drop.
“Yeah. Like none of it matters.” You agree, relaxing back. “You think she felt the same before?” You question referring to the body which thumped into the dirt moments ago. “-Like it’s all pointless.”
Ellie gives you her full attention at that, lips straight into a thin frown. “Where are you going with this?” This time, she’s lost.
“My fate is sealed. I don’t see why I fight so hard.” You attempt to explain, but it sounds hollow, disconnected. You’d grown up in an apocalyptic society, hearing stories of how the world once was. Elders held this belief of returning back to normal, that’s what kept them going. A promise of the world they once knew. This was all you knew, this was your normal. It was bleak. Still, you kept going, even without a reason. “It’ll happen eventually. Why not now?”
Ellie shakes her head, as if to brush off the grimness in your statement. “You’ll die of old age. Too stubborn to do anything else.”
You laugh, it’s quick and short, but it’s the first laugh you’ve given Ellie all day despite her best efforts. Which in turn, brings a half-grin to her own face. “Seriously. That’s not, no. I won’t let that happen to you.”
It’s an awkward promise, a weak one at that. Ellie is the one that’s immune, not you. And sure, she can protect you to her best abilities, and you can hold your own. But, that only goes so far. No one can protect someone forever, not even for themselves.
Ellie senses your disbelief, and her own doubts burrow inside herself. Everyone she’s ever loved, or cared for, has disappeared from her life. She hadn’t been able to keep anyone she had set out to protect. But she swore to herself it’d be different with you. Nothing would take you away. “It’s me and you.” She assures, hand searching for your own. Your fingers interlace, a soft intimacy. Her thumb gently circles your knuckle.
“It’s you and me.” You nod, squeezing her hand.
The point was in front of you, the point of this life was to see those gorgeous green eyes. Those of which left you momentarily breathless each time they locked their gaze onto you. The point was her, at least, it could be for now.
“You want to kiss me so bad.” Ellie comments, snapping you out of your staring. Her eyes are narrowed, theres a smug tug in the corners of her lips. She can’t help but embarrass you, it’s part of her charm.
You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Not anymore.” You turn your face away, but the movement is immediately halted by her grip. Her thumb and forefingers land on your chin, keeping your eyes on her.
“Don’t lie” Ellie huffs. Her nose scrunches and her eyebrows furrow playfully. “Kiss me.” It’s a plea more than a command, irregardless of the wording.
This time, you happily oblige. You lean forward, one hand on her shoulder, the other on her arm closest to you for balance. Your lips connect, unsure at first. It’s hesitant. You’ve kissed plenty of times, but the beginnings often feel uncertain.
Within seconds, the passion expands itself. Ellie is desperate to cheer you up, to show you she will keep you safe. That intensity for you lights the flames, the kiss grows deeper. After a few lip bites and breathless giggles, you break away from each other.
Ellie, never one to deny herself a chance at being snarky, ends the pleasant after silence first. “Still pointless?”
Peter Parker angst: Mentions of: Blood and violence :)
—
“You’re going to die.” Her words hung in the air around them. 3am, He came through her window. Battered, bruised and in need of immediate medical attention. Medical attention he couldn’t receive without risking his identity so instead they sat in her studio apartment. The lamp light illuminated the current slash she was tending towards. Her fingertips stained crimson as he winced from her stitching. She’d grown accustomed to blood. The smell didn’t phase her anymore, it had come to be something she’d associated her boyfriend with.
Peter let out a small chuckle, trying to defuse the situation at hand. He wanted to avoid the conversation that statement would lead. “You should see the other guy.”
Silence followed his words. It was Interrupted by the sound of a police siren ringing out, followed by that of an ambulance. 3am In a city that never sleeps.
Static sounds came from Peters police radio. How he’d managed all this equipment evaded her, she didn’t bother to ask. She listened in, it seemed the police had it covered. His body relaxed back, shoulders slouching as he continued to let her doctor his wounds. No doubt if they’d needed him he would’ve swung off into the night. Completely ignoring his own needs, As he was known to do.
That’s what Spider-Man did. He had found himself to be more of a symbol for New York than a person. A symbol doesn’t rest, a savior doesn’t succumb to injury. Spider-Man doesn’t stop.
She let out a sigh as she fixed up the last stitch, sitting back on her knees to examine her work. The first-aid course she’d picked up after high school came in handy more and more often these days.
“You’re going to die in this suit.” She tugged her lip between her teeth when she spoke again. She stared down at her chipped red polish, at least it matched the staining underneath her nails.
Peter sighed and turned to face her. This was a conversation he’d had before. A glimpse of Gwen and him in a similar position plagued his mind. He had failed her, and it had taken him a while before he learned to love again. He couldn’t help but fall for the girl who sat opposite of him now. She’d been patient, she’d been kind, she’d been understanding before even knowing who he was. Even going as far as sweeping the cancelled dates under the rug with a smile and rescheduling.
It was easier when she didn’t know. Lying was easier. She didn’t get that furrow in her brows from worry. She didn’t chew her bottom lip from nerves while watching the news. She didn’t frown at the articles against Spider-Man. When she didn’t know, she watched with wonder as the masked hero swung by her. She didn’t look up to blow a kiss, wondering if he’d make it to their dinner reservations. He couldn’t protect her from the dangers of loving a superhero. He knew that. He had learned that before. But, If he could go back and protect her from doing so knowingly, he would.
“Someone has to protect the people.” He stated plainly. The humor in his voice from earlier disappeared. It was replaced with a solemn tone, one she couldn’t say she hadn’t heard him use before. Especially when this discussion arose.
“It has to be you?” She questioned, but she knew the answer. ‘With great power’ and all of that. She wondered if Uncle Ben had known the life he was sentencing Peter with at those final words. “You’ve done enough. Maybe it’s time now to just be Peter Parker, a student at Empire State.”
“I’m not just Peter Parker. I haven’t been in a long time.” Truth be told, he hadn’t felt like Peter Parker since he turned 15. If he’d become the spider or the spider became him, he was unsure. All he knew now was the strength he had, the responsibility he held in his hands.
“You could be.” She tried again, cupping his face in her left hand, thumb gently brushing over the yellow bruise under his left eye. “It doesn’t have to fall on you.”
“But it does fall on me. If I don’t do this, people die. Innocent people.”
“You’re an innocent person Peter.”
“If I do nothing, I’m not innocent. I’m a bystander.”
She was stunned by that. How could she argue? He was right. She hated to admit it so instead she just turned her head from him.
“I’m scared for you.” She exhaled, fighting with the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks. “I can’t keep watching you do this to yourself.”
“Then don’t.” He said the words before he’d thought them through. The implication behind the sentence suffocating them both.
A beat passed, then another. She looked back towards Peter. “Okay.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” He started, pausing as he tried to think of what to say. His eyebrows fell in defeat as he reached towards her.
She shook her head and he retreated. “No, You’re right. I can’t do this. You want to kill the man I love? Do it. But, I refuse to be part of it.”
He stared at her, blinking a few times in surprise. “What?” His voice was soft, like a child being scolded. “That’s not-“ He stopped himself as he heard another siren in the distance. Peter took a breath before slipping his mask back down over his face.
“We will talk about this later.” He moved down, lifting his mask up over his lips to plant a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’m Sorry.” Peter left the same way he had entered. Through the window, Following after the bright red and blue lights. He was headed towards whatever danger awaited him.
The depth of his apology wasn’t lost on her. “I know.”
How? How would one begin to fix this? He might be Satoru Gojo, but he was no God. He was as mortal as the rest, maybe harder to touch but death grasped him as fondly as it had many others in your life.
“Nah, I’d win.”
The memory was muddled in your mind, but the most important words from him rang clear.
“I’d Win.”
Your world stopped the second you heard the haunting thump of his body. Your breath hung in the air. Desperately, your lungs tried to fill themselves. They painstakingly beat against your chest as shock filled your veins.
White hot rage crawled up from your stomach, the feeling causing you to nearly double over as you reached out. You fell against the ground, palms hitting the earth instead of his familiar chest. Sobs finally crackled their way out of your constricted throat. Voice hoarse as if someone was choking you, but there was nothing around your neck. Nothing but the few little love marks that occurred when he’d been unsealed. A grim reminder of the fact that they would fade and he wouldn’t be replacing them.
The scene laid out before you was something not even your worst nightmares had the ability to conjure up. He was sliced, his body disconnected. the two parts motionless against the ground. Satoru was never one to be still, never one to rest.
“Satoru.” You stated his name in disbelief. Half expecting him to hop up with a laugh and dust himself off. This couldn’t be. He’s the strongest. He’s Satoru Gojo. He’s supposed to win. He promised he’d win. He always won.
You moved your arms first, pulling yourself to him. You placed your hands on his cheeks as the metallic scent of blood ran up into your nostrils.
You were trained for this, trained to use your cursed energy to heal. That was your job. You had to do it. You had to fix him.
“Hang on, Hang on. Please” You whispered to him, the fighting going on around you pushed to the back-burner. You had no wish to see who Sukuna would take from you next. You had no chance in a fight against him. If Satoru couldn’t do it, who could? “You- no we- still have so much to do.”
“I have to take him” Ui Ui offered nothing else, preparing to use his curse technique.
“I just got him back.” Your hands shook as you tried to stop the bleeding. Anything to hold him together, anything to give him more time. It was a delusional thought. Blood loss wouldn’t hurt him, he was already gone. You sat back on your knees, If he had any chance at all it was from Shoko’s technique. You weren’t of any use in your current state.
You had to lose him, all over again.
Before the white sheet covered him, you got a final glance at his face. The beautiful face you’d memorized. The face you’d laughed with, the face you’d argued with. The face you’d peppered with kisses afterwards. His eyes weren’t hid from you with a blindfold, but with heavy lids that wouldn’t open again.
The face you’d missed for 19 agonizing days was now the face you’d now miss for many more.
“I’d win.”
Liar.
____
Thanks for reading! hope u enjoyed! this is my second writing on here so I wanted to keep it short and sweet as I’m still finding my groove. I took a few liberties with how the events played out in order to fit in the X-Reader character. Not entirely proof-read so pls ignore any mistakes. <3
“ What do you think Satoru would be like as a boyfriend? “
It was an innocent question for Utahime to ask, her eyes glancing towards the two girls in front of her as it left her lips. A night of studying led to You, Shoko and herself burnt out, talking about everything and nothing at all. Typical girls night.
So why was that question still replaying in your head?
Shoko was the first to respond, a laugh tumbled out of her as she did. “Satoru? Really?”
“Not like that.” Utahime clarified, crinkling her nose in disgust at the thought alone. “I just mean I can’t see it. He’s popular but I don’t see him being a good boyfriend.”
_
Satoru looked down at you as you walked, him on one side, Geto on the other. Something was clearly bothering you. He could tell from the way you had your eyebrows furrowed, barely spoken more than a sentence to him and Suguru at all.
“Why are you so quiet? Usually we can’t get you to shut up.” He asked, adding on the last bit to try and rile you up. Get your mind away from whatever claimed your attention. He could admit, selfishly, he wanted that attention on him.
You shook your head, his voice bringing you out of replaying last nights conversation for the time being.
“Huh? oh, just tired. Up late last night studying with Shoko and Utahime.” You replied, stretching your arms up with a forced yawn to solidify the little white lie. How could you tell him what’s bothering you?
Why does it bother you?
Satoru decided to leave it alone, shrugging his shoulders. He continued to chat along with Suguru, leaving you in your own little world for now.
-
“He’s just so self centered, You know? with his ‘I’m the best’ personality.” Utahime continued, ranting about the poor qualities she found Satoru Gojo to hold. “Not to mention an asshole.”
Shoko and Utahime both looked towards you, waiting for you to chime in either with your own complaints or thoughts on the matter. Besides Suguru and Shoko herself, you hung around him most.
-
It wasn’t long before you and Satoru were sat on a park bench together. Suguru had gone off to handle some low level curse, leaving you both to enjoy the daylight.
Enjoy was a strong word, It was hot. The heat wave nearly unbearable this time of year. The black school uniforms didn’t make it any easier. Uncomfortable was putting it mildly, you felt as if you might melt into the bench.
“Thirsty?” Satoru called out towards you, draping his arm around the back of the bench as he shifted his knees, clearly bored of waiting for Suguru. He noticed the tiny beads of sweat appearing on your forehead from the heat.
“Yeah, actually.” You replied, looking towards him as you did so. His sunglasses fell down his nose just a bit as he turned his own head down to meet your gaze.
“Wait here.” He stood up and walked off leaving you momentarily puzzled before he returned with two drinks from a nearby vending machine, handing you one.
It was your favorite.
You took the can from him as he plopped back down on the bench, popping it open you took a few sips. You let out a breath of contentment, the cold liquid cooling you off as it went down.
“Thanks, how much do I owe you?” you asked, moving to grab your wallet to pull out a couple bills in repayment.
Satoru gave an amused scoff. “You aren’t serious right?”
_
“I agree he can be immature.” Shoko spoke, shrugging her shoulders, nodding her head at the next thing Utahime rattled off.
“And disrespectful,” Utahime added on, “Full blown narcissist. Don’t you agree?” Utahime looked towards you, eyebrows raised.
-
Satoru and you were walking back towards the school, Suguru had sent a text to meet him back at the training grounds. The sun had finally started to set, dark clouds covering the sky giving some relief to the high heat.
“We’d better hurry, it looks like rain” You spoke, picking up your pace to match his long strides.
“Nothing I’d have to worry about” He smirked, flashing you a smug smile. “Bounce right off me.”
As if the universe heard his words, it immediately started to downpour, heavy.
“I don’t have that luxury.” You complained. The one day you didn’t carry your umbrella. the droplets quickly damped your hair, before starting to run down your face.
Satoru grabbed your arm, quickly leading you to shelter. Once you were under the overhang of the building you looked up at him. He was looking perfect as always, with his infinity figured out, the water didn’t even hit him. Clothes completely dry.
You on the other hand, hair was stuck down to your head, clothes dripping from how hard it began to pour. Your teeth chattered from standing in wet clothes in the chilled afternoon air.
Satoru let out a low whistle, shaking his head. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. You glared at him. “Shut up.”
“You’re helpless” He murmured, taking off the top of his uniform. He wrapped it around your shoulders, doing what he could in the moment to help warm you. “Use that to hold over your head when we go back out.” He stated, readjusting his undershirt. “If it doesn’t let up soon I’ll go find an umbrella.”
The rain didn’t let up, and Gojo had to return with a cheap umbrella from a nearby convenience store. In his other hand he also carried a towel.
“Dry off.” He stated, handing the towel towards you, stopping halfway. Satoru got a grin on his face and took the towel in both hands, drying you off himself while giggling like a child. purposefully messing up your hair.
“Satoru!” You yelled in frustration, snatching the towel out of his hands and using it to properly dry yourself off, trying to flatten out your hair from his games.
“Wow, this is the thanks I get?” He frowned, snatching the towel right back. He stuck out his tongue in a mocking manner.
“Here.” He shoved the umbrella into your hands, putting his own back in his pockets. He tilted his head in the direction of the school, signaling for you to start walking.
You opened up the umbrella, rolling your eyes at his antics. “Right, saved the day again.” You started walking and he followed behind.
Even with the rain falling you couldn’t help but smile.
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