#*sighs wistfully* oh yeah.. absolutely...

From the moment you stepped into her bay she had locked onto you. 

Finding your demeanour charming. Your smile flattering, and oh! Simply so clever to be a doctor.

You were an absolute catch in her eyes. And she made it very well clear that you simply had to meet her son, or nephew, or whoever else she insisted upon. 

It was sweet. 

Well it would’ve been more sweet. If you weren’t beginning to feel tired from the shift. 

If you didn’t have another 10 patients still waiting to be seen. 

And.

Well. 

If you didn’t already have a loving partner. 

That was the one hurdle you had yet to mention. 

Not being able to get a word in inch wise while Paula rambled on and on, about the very perfect man you just had to meet. 

You smiled at her amusedly if not tiredly. 

Just waiting for a moment’s pause. 

A moment for you to interject. 

But it seems there’s nothing wrong with her lungs as she keeps on talking, barely even needing to take a breath as she lists all the fabulous qualities. Simply so excited by the prospect. 

Passing interns, med students and nurses alike all send you pitying glances as they hurry away, not wanting to be caught in between. 

She continued to ramble, “Oh you’d simply love him! You’d just have to meet him. Oh I’ll give him a call and have him come over! Never too soon to meet the love of your life–”

Gently, ever so gently, you interjected, “While I am flattered, truly. I am in a very happy relationship.”

“But–”

“I’m not really looking to trade out my current partner. Who’s super considerate. Really, honestly I don’t think I’ve met a nicer person out there. And my god, the way he makes me laugh, oh. I just really love him. Thank you–but no thank you. I’m very happy at the moment.”

“Sounds like you really love him,” Paula sighs wistfully. 

“Yeah, I really do,” you smile softly. “He’s one of the best things to happen to me”

Unbeknownst to you. 

Your partner. 

The very love of your life. 

Had stopped short just outside the bay, hidden behind the curtain. Frozen in place as he heard your words. 

Jack knew you loved him.  

There wasn’t ever a moment where you didn’t make it known to him. 

But hearing you now. 

Dote on him to a complete stranger. 

A tender warmth bloomed in his chest. A smile formed on his face. As he carried on his rounds. Tucking away your words in his heart. 

A small pep in his step as he feels invigorated from your love. 

Ellis stands to the side with Shen, raised brows and smug grins as they look at him.

"Someone's looking like a lovesick puppy"

Shen hums in agreement.

While Abbot merely shrugs them off, "And?"

"Nothing, just that love looks good on you," Ellis grins.

Abbot's lips curl, a small smile tugging at his lips.

He didn't mind if he seemed overly loving. Not when it came to you.

Throughout the evening you’re given little tokens of his love throughout. 

From a steaming cup of coffee, that was definitely not from here as it was a lot better than what was currently being served in the staff room. Brewed exactly how you like it. 

To the little packet of biscuits he slipped into your hand when he noticed you were getting a little sluggish. 

Jack was by your side in seconds whenever you needed him. That was just the way he was. 

His hands finding any reason possible to brush against you, to clasp your hand for just a moment. To swipe across your back, to let you know he was there for you. 

Showing you his love in the smallest of behaviors. 

None of this was out of the ordinary. No more doting than usual…

But there was a deepness to his sincerity. A little more care. Thought. Than usual. 

And just perhaps. 

At the end of your shift. As you leave side by side, Jack pulls you into his arms, far closer than usual. You find out just why he had been so affectionate this shift…

Holding you tightly. Tucking his head into the crook of your neck as he soaks in your embrace. 

You feel his chest expand, rise and fall, simply letting his stress melt away as he holds you. 

“You’re really touchy this morning? Anything you wanna talk about?” you asked softly, hands trailing up to curl through the hairs on the nape of his neck. 

The smallest shake of his head, he begins to pepper light kisses upon the skin of your neck, mumbling between the soft, sweet kisses, “I just love you.” 

You sigh as you feel his lips trail up along your jaw, to the corner of your lips, before shifting to nudge your nose with his. 

Eyes meet yours. 

Affection and love pooled within those hazel eyes. 

Bright and as endless as the sky. 

Softly you whisper, just as sweetly, “I love you too”

You surge forward, catching his lips with yours. Having missed the feeling. Missed his touch. 

Heart swelling with love for him. 

What had once started as a friendship. 

Quippy words and dry retorts, punctuated with laughter even when the jokes were dark or dry. 

It had soon developed into something so sweet. 

Rare. 

Something you both now cherished deeply. 

Pulling back slightly you lean your forehead against his, while he presses chaste kisses to your cheeks. 

“Not that I don’t love this, but why are you so affectionate this morning?”

“I told you, I just love you”

You sigh, with a small roll of your eyes. 

Jokingly you say, “What have you done?” Knowing full well he would never do anything to hurt you. 

He chuckles softly. 

“More like what have you done?”

You furrow your brows in thought. 

Thinking over the night’s events. 

It had gone on as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary…except–

Pulling back you lightly slap his shoulder, with a faint annoyed expression. “You totally overheard me last night”

The laughs that slip from his mouth, as smooth as honey, balanced with a timbre. One that rumbles in his chest. 

Your cheeks feel a heat bloom, face feeling warm from his attention. 

“You weren’t exactly quiet,” he remarked. 

Groaning, “And you didn’t think to intervene and save me from her matchmaking?”

“Seemed you had it handled,” the grin on his face wide and amused from your reaction. Adding on, “Your boyfriend sounds nice”

“You’re a jackass”

“But I’m your Jack ass,” he retorted, arms slipping around your waist once more to pull you to his chest, pressing a kiss to your cheek, between each sentence. 

“You’re very sweet.” 

Kiss. 

“Considerate.” 

Kiss. 

“And funny boyfriend.” 

You let out a small laugh, flushed by his affections, hands moving to hold his face, thumbs gently swiping across his cheeks. 

“Did I mention handsome,” he added cheekily.

“I don’t think I mentioned that,” you said in thought. 

“Can’t say you didn’t think it though”

Smiling coyly, “I suppose he is kind of handsome, in that ruggish sort of effortless way”

“I’ll take what I can get, sweetheart.”

“Who knew me talking about you to others would make you so loving” 

“Your words just have that affect on me” he murmurs. 

“I’ll keep that in mind”

And softer, with a gravel tone he say, “Please do”

Hands slipping around his neck, you rest your head upon his chest. Calming. Soothing. 

Mind focusing on nothing else but the steady rhythm of his heart. 

Beating just for you. 

Just as your heart beats for him. 

…

Even if he was nosy at times. 

Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little fic for domaystic. Just love the idea of Jack absolutely doting on you when he hears how much you love him, what a confidence boost! Let me know what you think. Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕

For more Jack Abbot Works check out my series below! Feel free to find my Dr Jack Abbot x Reader Who Would've Thought series here 💖 Based on Waitress the Musical, Dr Jack Abbot x Waitress!Reader Sugar, Butter, Flour series 🥧 Or for a lil bit of hurt with eventual comfort check out Jack and the reader create a bond through being widowers, I Know You're Hurting series Feel free to find my Dr Robby x Wayne!Reader Rinse & Repeat Series Masterlist here 🩺 Or check out my overall Masterlist here

stretching languidly on your stomach, you reach for your phone from the nightstand, making sure the movement catches his peripheral vision. “hey ’toru,” you call sweetly, “want me to order pizza for dinner?”

“mm, sure,” comes his distracted response, pencil still moving across paper. “get whatever.”

“what kind do you want though?” you press, already pulling up your contacts with a mischievous grin he can’t see.

“pepperoni’s fine,” he mumbles automatically.

perfect. you clear your throat and let your voice drop into that honeyed register that usually makes his pencil snap in half. “hi, is this romano’s pizza?”

the scratching of graphite stops immediately. satoru’s entire body goes rigid—because why the hell are you using your bedroom voice to order pizza? his pencil hovers frozen above the paper as alarm bells start ringing in his head.

“yeah, i’d like to place an order for delivery,” you continue, each word dripping with that artificial sweetness that’s definitely not meant for pizza orders. “can i get a large pepperoni pizza?”

he turns in his chair slowly, like he’s witnessing a car crash, those blue eyes wide with dawning horror behind his glasses. his mouth opens slightly as if to ask what you’re doing, but no sound comes out.

“oh, what’s that?” you pause dramatically, twirling a strand of your hair around your finger, a picture of fake innocence. “you think my voice is pretty? that’s so sweet of you to say…”

that gets him. satoru spins around completely, chair squeaking in protest, those impossibly blue eyes going from confused to suspicious to absolutely panicked in record time.

“wait, what?” you let out a breathy little laugh. “the pizza’s free if i keep talking to you? but i couldn’t possibly… i have a boyfriend, you know.”

the change is immediate and catastrophic. his chair shrieks against the floor as he shoots up, six-foot-something unfolding with barely contained panic. the academic composure he wears like armor cracks, revealing something raw and desperate.

the sound he makes is somewhere between a whimper and a growl. his glasses slip as he stalks across the room, movements sharp with urgency.

“well, i mean…” you sigh wistfully, “he is pretty busy with his studies lately. barely pays attention to me anymore…”

“give me the phone,” he demands, voice wavering like he’s sixteen and asking someone to prom. his hands actually shake as he reaches for you, and the sight of satoru gojo—never afraid of anything—falling apart over an imaginary pizza guy makes warmth explode in your chest.

“oh, you want to take me out instead?” you dodge with a grin that threatens to split your face in half. “but what about my boyfriend—he’s got gorgeous blue eyes behind the cutest glasses, and when he actually pays attention to me instead of textbooks, he’s absolutely perfect…”

satoru lunges like a man trying to save his own life. his arms wrap around your waist as you tumble onto the sheets, his glasses askew, giving him a lopsided, vulnerable look that makes your heart squeeze.

“hang up,” he pants against your ear, breath warm and unsteady. “right now. please.”

“i’m on hold!” you dissolve into helpless giggles as he pins you down. “marco’s checking if they have any cute delivery guys available!”

“there is no marco!” the words come out strangled. his face is flushed pink, hair mussed, eyes wide and devastated.

“how do you know?” you challenge. “maybe marco really does think i have a pretty voice. maybe he wants to give me free pizza and take me on dates where he actually listens to me…”

satoru cuts you off with a kiss that tastes like desperation and the energy drink he’s been nursing. it’s messy and urgent, his glasses bumping against your cheek as he tries to pour three hours of neglect into the space between your lips.

when he pulls back, he’s breathing hard, eyes soft and wounded behind his lenses. “you’re so mean to me,” he whispers, bottom lip jutting in the most pathetic pout you’ve ever seen.

“worked though, didn’t it?” you straighten his glasses, heart melting when he leans into your touch like a cat seeking warmth. “got you away from those boring equations you don’t even need to study.”

“they’re not boring, they’re—” he starts, then catches your expression and slumps. “okay, fine. maybe i’ve been neglecting my very attention-starved girlfriend who apparently thinks it’s funny to torture me.”

“very attention-starved,” you agree solemnly, then coo at the way his pout somehow deepens. “you should’ve seen your face when i mentioned free pizza. you looked like someone said puppies don’t exist.”

his pout wavers before returning full force. “don’t even joke about that,” he mumbles, burying his face in your neck so you can’t see how red his ears are. his glasses press cool against your skin. “you know i get weird about… about other people wanting you.”

there’s something fragile in his voice, softening your edges. “weird how?” you ask gently, fingers sliding through his soft hair.

he lifts his head, expression so earnest it makes your chest ache. “like… panicky. like someone’s trying to take away the best thing that ever happened to me.” his voice drops to almost a whisper, arms tightening around you unconsciously. “i know it’s pathetic, but the thought of you using that voice with anyone else makes me want to lock you up somewhere only i can find you.” he catches himself, ears burning redder. “not—not actually, just… god, i hate how much i need you to be mine. only mine.”

his fingers dig slightly into your waist, possessive even as his expression crumbles into that devastated pout. “i can’t even handle pretend pizza guys. what does that say about me?”

the confession hangs between you like a soap bubble. he looks mortified at his own honesty, pout deepening as he pushes his glasses up with a shaky finger.

“it’s not pathetic,” you whisper, cupping his face. “it’s sweet. in a completely neurotic, overprotective way that makes me want to wrap you up and keep you forever.”

“your neurotic boyfriend,” he mumbles, still pouting but leaning into your touch with the desperation of someone who’s been touch-starved for exactly three hours and seventeen minutes.

you grin against the soft cotton of his sweater, already plotting your next fake phone call. maybe the chinese takeout place next time. or that fancy restaurant downtown with charming waiters who definitely don’t deserve to hear your sultry voice but would make satoru’s eye twitch in the most entertaining way…

“i can literally hear you scheming,” he warns, voice still carrying that wounded edge as he tightens his grip around you possessively.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about,” you say innocently, though your smile gives you away.

his pout deepens, those blue eyes going soft and hurt. “you’re gonna do it again, aren’t you?” he mumbles, hands already sliding down to grip your hips, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. “gonna torture your poor boyfriend some more?”

“what kind of torture?” you whisper, suddenly very aware of how he’s maneuvering you beneath him—gentle dominance wrapped in that pathetic, needy expression.

the pout begins to fade from satoru’s features, something sharper flickering in those blue eyes behind his lenses. slowly, deliberately, he pins your wrists above your head, and you watch that familiar calculating focus—the one he usually reserves for impossible equations—settle over his face as he studies you like a problem he’s about to solve.

“the kind where you pretend other people get to hear what’s mine,” he murmurs, voice soft but grip firm. his free hand traces your jaw with reverent fingers before his thumb finds your bottom lip, pressing gently. “maybe i should just keep your mouth busy with something else instead.”

when your lips part automatically, he pushes his thumb past them, pressing down on your tongue with just enough pressure to make your eyes flutter shut. the way you immediately give in, the soft sound you make around his digit—it sends something possessive and satisfied curling through his chest.

“there,” he breathes, watching the way you respond to him with that same intense focus he gives his studies. “though i can think of something even better to keep you quiet.”

It's your own fault you're in here anyway; you'd wanted more privacy to discuss your concerns. And now that you have, you can only hope against hope that Shoko can get to the bottom of your recent medical issues.

A quick rap at the door makes you bolt upright. Shoko comes back into the room, the set of her mouth especially grim. It's the same face she makes when her fingers are twitching for a cigarette that she will ultimately deny herself. 

"Give it to me straight, doc. What's my diagnosis?"

She takes a seat on the rolling stool beside the examination table. "Headaches, chest and stomach pain, trouble sleeping. All could mean one thing."

"Cancer?"

"Stress."

"Stress? Are you serious?" you ask, and Shoko nods. "But you said my blood pressure was high and—"

"Higher than usual. And that is more than likely caused by stress."

"That makes no sense. The splitting headaches and-and all this pressure on my chest. Sometimes, I can't even get a breath in right–"

"All linked to stress, stress, and more stress. Chronic stress, at this point." Shoko rolls over to her computer and types up her findings into your health record. "Makes sense though. You have been working around the clock these days. Gotta take care of yourself, no one will care about your health more than you do."

You're grateful that it's not a more serious diagnosis like your brain had spent the better part of an hour convincing you of, but you feel far from relieved. You almost wish it was something less ambiguous than stress. Something with a clear solution, like medication, a change in diet, maybe even a shot. But stress? Stress could break your body down this bad? Seriously?

"Well, how do you handle stress then?" you ask.

"Used to be cigarettes but, you know," she sighs wistfully. "Nowadays, martinis and whiskey sodas. Utahime's proven to be a pretty good stress reliever as well."

"Utahime? What do you mean— Oh."

"Yeah, recent development. Anyway, you might need a fuck buddy or something. Regular sex is known to reduce stress levels pretty effectively. Maybe invest in a magic wand, they're efficient."

"I already have one of those. The wand that is."

You can't say that your line of work lends itself to dating, let alone hook ups. When you had been on the carousel of dating apps years ago, all your dates ended one of two ways: you abruptly leaving in pursuit of some cursed spirit, or excusing yourself to the bathroom to hit up Shoko and beg her to call back in the next ten minutes with a convincing life or death emergency so you could cut the evening short. You're sure acquiring a fuck buddy would prove impossible, not that you're especially keen on the idea.

"I suggest you get well acquainted with that thing then so the stress doesn't end up killing you."

"It's just…the thing is…" You take in a deep breath. "It doesn't work on me."

Shoko pauses her typing to look at you. When you nod sheepishly, she furiously types something on the keyboard then turns the monitor your way.

"This is it, right? A hitachi?"

"Yeah."

"And it doesn't get you off?"

"Never once. At least I don't think it has. I'd know if I had an orgasm right?"

"A good one will make you forget your given name. So if you have to ask, it's safe to say you've never had one."

You lay back down and groan. "Not only am I gonna die, I'm gonna die without ever having had an orgasm."

"Come on, you've survived way too much for your tombstone to say 'Stressed to Death.' Let's go partake in one of my favorite stress relievers. A nice, cold beer."

Shoko stands before you on the table and pulls you to your feet. You didn't think she'd ever have to drag you out of a place like this. Hopefully a drink or two will be enough to forget that your body is not only attacking itself, but it's also defective.

Grateful your night binge drinking with a functioning alcoholic didn't result in a hangover, you decide to take a slow approach to your day, determined to mitigate your stress. 

Shortly after your third drink, you'd drunkenly called Principal Yaga to tell him that you loved and appreciated him so much (the memory still makes you wince) and to see if you could arrange some sort of sabbatical. To your pleasant surprise, he approved, which prompted more sobs of appreciation and adoration before Shoko confiscated your phone. Barring any serious security threats, you were relieved of most of your responsibilities outside of teaching.

You pull up a yoga video and replicate the flows in your room, basking in the quiet of the early morning as you breathe deep, in tune with your every muscle as you bend and stretch. Despite the sorry state you've been in, your body is strong yet limber, and for that you are especially grateful. 

Once you finish with your morning meditation, you take a long, hot shower. Lather your body with a special lavender soap that you'd been gifted so long ago. The thick, elegantly decorated paper that once preserved the bar of soap boasts that it originated from France. It had been a struggle to set it free; you'd always told yourself that you would save it for some special occasion, but clearly nothing had been so special in the years since receiving it that you deemed it worthy of busting out your expensive bar of luxury soap. Besides, if you're bound to die, you might as well use it at least once.

And the life-changing experience of washing yourself with it is enough to inspire you to go through a whole skin care routine, head to toe. Instead of rubbing moisturizer onto your face and calling it a day, you slather your skin with the soap's accompanying body oil and body butter until you're soft and glowing. Loathe as you are to admit, it does help you feel more relaxed, the calming scent of lavender on your pampered skin.

Back in your room, you search for your most comfortable lounge wear. You decide to forgo the bra today, and pull on a cute tank top. Baggy sweatpants sit low on your hips, almost revealing the frilly hem of your well-worn pair of cheekie underwear. 

Breaking with tradition, you prepare your first real breakfast in weeks. If you bothered to put anything in your body in the morning, it would be instant coffee, and, if you were lucky (i.e. missed dinner the night prior), it'd be accompanied by buttered toast. But today, you pull out all the stops. Brew some green tea, prepare a miso soup, broil some mackerel, set the rice cooker until it sings. The act of cooking for yourself, even something as simple as this, is really quite enjoyable. It's a shame you rarely have enough time to cook more often.

With everything prepared and plated, you take a seat at the dining table and sample a bit from each bowl laid out before you. It's quiet in the kitchen today, so you can really savor your meal. It's a day off for the students, so you don't have to worry about them sneaking into faculty housing to bother you. Neither Itadori nor Panda are here to beg for a bite. No Kugisaki to plead with you, please bring me into the city for a 'much needed' shopping spree. You have another bite of mackerel with rice and sigh. This is bliss.

You're only halfway through your meal when your phone buzzes in your pants pocket. It's a text message from Shoko consisting of one word: sorry. 

"Sorry? What the hell?" You put down your chopsticks to text her as much. The ellipsis on her end appears at once then disappears. This continues in rapid succession. What is so difficult for her to say? You tap out a message asking whether everything is okay.

"Sooo."

You glance up from your phone to a grinning Gojo leaning over you. He's in casual clothes too, having ditched his trademark uniform and blindfold for a pale grey hoodie, matching sweats, and sunglasses so dark you can see only your reflection in them. You're never sure what's more unsettling– seeing his eyes, or not seeing them at all.

"Morning, Gojo," you say before sending a new message to Shoko. 

"A little birdie told me that your poor little pussy is broken."

Your phone clatters to the ground,and you look up at your amused comrade in abject horror. 

"Shoko told you that?" you ask, thoroughly beside yourself. Whatever happened to doctor-patient confidentiality? APPI? Girl Code?

"Didn't need to. At least, not directly." Gojo tips his sunglasses down so you can clearly see the mirth glittering in his crystalline eyes. He winks exaggeratedly at you, and in this moment, you're sure the mortification will get you before the stress ever does.

"Don't give me that look. I'm not here to tease you," he says, pushing his glasses back up. "Unless you want me to."

"If you know what's good for you–"

"Easy, easy," he says, hands raised as he takes a step back. "No need to stress yourself out even more. I just came over here to offer my services. I'm guaranteed to make you come."

You're finding it hard to compute what's happening. There's no way Gojo is smiling in your face talking about fixing your 'broken pussy'.

"But aren't you a virgin?" you ask, genuinely curious.

His face falls. "Do you want the help or not?"

“You’re the one who asked if you could help! I never said I needed–"

“Tell you what! I'll give you some time to think about it. Why don't I stop by your living quarters later tonight, hm? Sound good?"

For some reason, you hesitate to tell him to fuck off and not even bother stopping by later. You actually stop to consider his offer. Yes, he's a piece of work, but he's also one of few men you trust implicitly. You're comfortable around him, you actually know him. And while he can be playful and joke around too much, you know he won't make you feel too self-conscious about your lack of experience. And it's not like you have anything to prove, it's just Gojo. Annoying, reliable… easy on the eyes Gojo. He might just be the perfect person to help you.

"…I might want your help," you answer finally.

"What was that?" Gojo asks, cupping one ear to hear you better.

You shoot him a glare but still grit out, "I said yes…I want you to help me."

"Amazing!" Gojo claps and rubs his hands together. "Come on. Let's go."

"What? Go?" you ask, eyes wide as he comes around the table and pulls you out of your seat.

"To your room," he says.

"Now? What happened to later tonight?" You can only look back at your phone and half-eaten breakfast forlornly as you're marched through the halls of Jujutsu Tech.

"No time like the present," he says, glancing back at you. "Besides, I'd hate to have to exorcise you when the stress consumes your very being."

Your breath hitches. You hadn't even considered that as a real possibility. That would be a fate worse than death. With newfound determination, you pick up your pace until you're the one pulling Gojo along.

"Oooh, someone's eager," he says when you pull your door open and usher him inside.

"Well, I don't want to die and I especially don't want you Hollow Purpling me." You slide the door shut and go to check the drawers of your dresser. You could've sworn you had one singular condom hidden in here from your dating days. In hindsight, you should have known it would go unused because you'd have never brought anyone here of all places for a hookup.

The condom is hidden among your t-shirts in the third drawer, a flash of cerulean foil. You hold it up with the same level of pride and apprehension as you would one of Sukuna's necrotic fingers.

But Gojo only shakes his head. "We don't need that."

"What? Why not?" 

"Well for starters, you're shaking like a leaf." He closes the distance between you and plucks the condom from your hand—which is, in fact, trembling a bit. He turns the condom over and snorts. "Plus, this is wayyyy too small for me."

You lightly smack him in the stomach. "Yeah, right."

"I'll prove it to you! Another time, though. For now, why don't you grab that toy you don't know how to use?"

"How do you know about that?"

"Remember, six eyes equals all seeing Gojo Satoru." He flops onto your bed, hands behind his head. "Take your time looking for it, I'll be patient. I know it's probably covered in cobwebs."

You open your mouth to retort but shut it just as quickly. He's right; you can't remember when that thing last saw the light of day. You'd gotten so frustrated with the wand the last time you'd used it that you hid it too well. You have to scour the room before you find it, still in it's original box.

"Not sure if it still works," you say when you approach Gojo again, pulling the wand from the plastic bag it came in. The instruction manual flutters to the floor. 

"It's a wall plug in. And you've probably used it like what, twice?" He takes the wand from you, turns it over for a thorough inspection. He takes the cord and plugs it into the wall. When he flicks the switch on the wand it, unsurprisingly, hums to life.

"Seems like it still works to me," Gojo says. He flicks to the higher setting before powering the wand off. "But who cares? The true test is seeing if it can get you off."

Gojo sits up against your mountain of pillows and pats the empty space between his legs. You crawl into bed with him and sit so there's still space between you both.

"You're way too far," he says. "I promise not to bite you today."

"Today?"

"Come on, sit back. Make yourself comfortable."

You shift closer to him but Gojo is the one to close the distance. With an arm braced around your middle, he tugs you until your back is flush with his chest.

"Much better," he hums in your ear, sending a shiver through you. That's new. "So tell me, what do you usually do when you use this thing?" He twirls the magic wand in the air, ready to grant your wish.

"Uh, I'll put a towel down, take off my pants and just stick it down there."

"Eh? That's it?"

"Pretty much. I'll use some lube, too."

"Where's the fun in that? You need to seduce yourself. No wonder you're in such dire straits."

"According to Reddit, that wand can make someone come in seconds."

"Yeah, with some build up. Let me show you a proper seduction."

Gojo flicks the switch on the wand again, but instead of pulling a you and sticking it right between your legs he places it at dip of your neck. He drags the toy to your shoulder then back, the vibrations easing the tension out of your muscles. You shut your eyes as he moves the wand to the opposite side, following the trail of your clavicle to massage your other shoulder. Back and forth until you relax in his hold with a sigh.

When he brings the wand back to the base of your neck this time, he guides it down the center of your chest. The vibrations spread throughout your torso. He charts a path to your left breast and circles your clothed nipple, already straining against your tank top. Your breath hitches when he finally moves the wand to your pert peak.

"Like that?" he asks, amused, and again, his voice right by your ear does something strange to your body.

"Y-yeah. Feels nice."

"What'd I tell you?" he asks as he flicks the head of the wand against your other nipple. 

"Hey, don't get all smug," you say, voice quivering as the wand travels down your belly. "I haven't come yet."

"Oh, but you will," he promises. "You mind taking these off?" Gojo pinches the thin material of your lounge pants. You raise your hips in order to slide them off, but drop down abruptly when you start to tug the waist down.

"Just my pants right? I can keep my underwear on?"

"Suit yourself. But I almost guarantee you'll be tearing them off yourself when I'm through with you."

You roll your eyes but still shimmy your bottoms off, leaving you only in your very unsexy underwear. You're honestly glad you opted for such an ordinary pair, you'd hate for Gojo to tease you if you had worn anything remotely sensual.

Gojo takes his time with the wand, tracing it along the scalloped edge of your underwear, right at your thigh. It feels good. You close your eyes, sighing as he works the wand across your pelvis to the other thigh. Even without a climax you might have reason to feel grateful to him. You had no idea you could get such a great massage from a sex toy.

Your hips jolt up when the toy ghosts over the hood of your clit and along the cleft of your cunt. It travels down to your entrance, which contracts when the vibrating head presses against it before traveling back up your lips, just shy of your clit. Gojo takes his time moving the wand over your mound until your breath becomes shaky. When he finally does graze your clit, your entire body tenses. He moves the wand in little circles that makes your outstretched legs bend, your toes curl.

"Still feels good?" Gojo asks, amusement clear in his tone. He presses the wand down on your clit and your back curves and tenses. "I know it does. But you gotta relax. Take some deep breaths."

You try to follow his instructions, try to steady your breathing but that only makes the teasing more intense.

"I-I feel weird Gojo. I don't know about this."

"You must be close," he says. "Just let go, ok? Don't be shy."

He flicks the wand to the second setting and you fall back against him, panting hard as the vibrations grow in intensity. He doesn't give your clit a break, rubbing the wand against it without mercy.

You feel it in your feet first, a numbing tingle across the soles like you're losing sensation in them. But it feels good, and you really can't explain why. Your legs start to shake and you throw your head back against Gojo's shoulder.

"Oh, fuck," you whisper, sounding pitiful. You've never felt like this when you used the wand, and even if you were able to get to this point, you fear that you would shut the wand off before–

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Your blood singes in your body as pleasure seizes your body, your release soaking through your panties until they're dark grey at the gusset.

"Nice job," Gojo says. You turn to look at him; he looks particularly pleased. But he doesn't let up, just keeps moving the wand along your sex.

"Turn it off," you say even as your hips rock up when the wand travels back up to your clit.

"See, that's part of your problem. You gotta keep chasing that feeling. You're so lucky I'm here to show you."

This time when he presses on your clit, your legs close around the vibrating toy.

"Nuh-uh." Gojo grabs your left leg with his free hand and wrenches it away from the other. He hooks his leg over yours to keep them in place and doubles down on his efforts until you're crying from the pleasure this time. You're sure your bed is bound to be drenched too, but you hardly care when all your nerves are alight, your pussy clenching, desperate to be full of something.

"I think you can take one more. How's that sound? Want me to give you one more, baby?"

"Mhm!" You desperately pull your panties aside and Gojo laughs low in your ear, sending another full body shiver through you. You don't think you've ever heard a laugh that you would categorize as sexy, but you'll probably have wet dreams about that one.

"See? I was right about that too." He grabs your panties himself, tears them off so he can put the wand directly on your dripping sex. You jerk at the direct contact and your arousal splashes with each pass along your cunt, but you can't find it in you to feel embarrassed.

"I can't see your cute little clit," Gojo complains, and you reach a hand down to part your lips so the stiff bud is on display. Gojo smiles at you in a way that you can only describe as evil before he starts rubbing your clit with the wand. Your entire body bows; the vibrations travel just under your skin, heat your blood to a fever pitch. The tingling in your feet grows and you grab Gojo's wrist tight, nervous about what's coming, but he's much stronger than you are. He presses down harder on your clit and you whine as you come hard, a spray of arousal that soaks the bed. Still, Gojo keeps the wand on you until you weakly push his hand away.

"Too much," you nearly slur.

Gojo shuts the wand off and places it on your bed. He releases your leg and pets your arm as you come down from the most intense orgasm you've had to date. You feel drowsy and sated.

"That was fun, right?"

You nod weakly, and Gojo chuckles again. You jump when his hands find your waist, but he only shifts you to the other side of the mattress, still dry. You furrow your brow at him as he slips off of your bed and unplugs the wand.

"Glad I could be of service, then. Hopefully the lesson sticks for when you need to rub one out yourself next time."

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Oh, right. My bad." He plugs the toy back in and places it on the bed again. "Didn't realize you'd want to try it out yourself right away."

"Where the hell are you going?" you ask, your tone so severe that even you wince.

"Sent the kiddies on a mission with a first grade curse, figured I'd check on them. I know, I know, don't give me that look," he says, though the glare that you've fixed him with has nothing to do with his unorthodox teaching style for once. "They welcomed the challenge and I fully believe in them. Anyway, I better make sure no one died again. I'll catch you later."

It's only when the door slides shut that you can come to grips with what just happened. Gojo made you come for the first time in your life. Not only that, but he made you squirt too, leaving you with a load of laundry to deal with. He even reduced your most comfortable pair of panties to scraps of fabric. And, as if to make matters worse, he'd called you 'baby'. Why did he call you baby? Maybe he hadn't noticed. Hell, you barely noticed, you were so desperate in the moment. But now that you can form coherent thoughts…you're just left with confusion. Had he said that to keep you in the mood? Had he slipped up in the heat of the moment? 

You must have lost your mind to have gone through with this in the first place. But you can't fully fault yourself, you'd thought you would die otherwise. But maybe you should have picked up some rando after all.

You pull your throw blanket over your body and curl into fetal position under it. You'd have never gone through with this with some random guy, that much is true. You just didn't realize something like this could alter how you see one of your oldest friends.

Why were you so mad that he'd left like nothing happened just now? He was doing you a favor, not wooing you. Right?

Your door slides open again, and when you pop your head out from under your blanket to see Gojo again, your heart soars. You can't help it or make sense of it.

"Back so soon? I hope that doesn't mean all your students died."

He crosses the room in two long strides and holds your phone out for you. You grab it from him and see your most recent notification is from Gojo himself.

"I went to text you that I finished your breakfast for you, but then I saw your phone on the ground and figured I'd be a good friend and return it to you. You're welcome."

You can't really form words right now, disappointment weighs down your tongue.

"Now I'm gonna check on the students, ye of little faith. I'll see you around, yeah?"

"Yeah," you choke out. "See you around."

The confusion returns tenfold. He'd referred to himself as a 'good friend' just now, but what if you don't want him to be just that? Is an orgasm or three all it takes to see someone who has been a nuisance for over a decade in a whole new light? Enough to catch feelings? You've certainly developed crushes on people for less.

In the midst of your conundrum, the confusion gives way to irritation.

"That bastard ate the rest of my fucking food."

Part 2 - Bases Loaded

You have a serious problem. You can't seem to come without Gojo. He didn't do anything all that special the other day. Well… he said he'd show you seduction and that's exactly what he did. But in the days following his 'lesson' all attempts at masturbation have ended in complete and utter failure, just like before. The closest you got was when you'd closed your eyes and remembered him saying in your ear, "Want me to give you one more, baby?"

"Damn you, Gojo," you mutter as you yank the wand's cord from the outlet so you can toss it to the foot of your bed. He's effectively ruined you for even yourself, which is far from ideal. You've been the horniest you've ever been following that day and you're in no position to deal with it, not on your own. Things would have been better off if you'd looked for outlets other than orgasms to reduce your stress, like nightly baths in the glow of dozens of burning candles, or a weekend at the spa complete with deep tissue massages and saunas galore.

You have half a mind to call Gojo when there's a knock on your door.

"In a minute!" You pull your pants back on and throw the accursed wand back in the drawer of your nightstand before you open the door.

"Gojo? What are you doing here?" you ask. Your stomach does a little flip that you're far from happy about. 

"I'm here for your next lesson, what else?" Gojo pushes past you to sit on your bed.

"Next lesson? What are you on about?" 

"You're inexperienced, which is just a shame. I figured it's only right that we continue your sex ed with some more of the basics."

You shut your door and turn to face him. "What did you have in mind?"

He looks surprised, only for a moment before that cocky smile lights up his face. "Figured you haven't been to third base yet."

"Third base?" you ask, brows furrowing in confusion. Your mind immediately goes to the first and last time you'd played baseball at Gojo's behest, when you were all still students at Jujutsu Tech. Your performance had been exceptionally bad– you'd tried to explain to everyone beforehand that you were athletic in the sense that you could flip onto a curse's back and rip it's head off, not kick a ball into the goal or net or whatever was expected of you in a game of baseball. You'd been picked last for a team as a result, but that still meant you had to play. Gojo spent the whole game doubled over in laughter when you'd strike out within a minute of going up to bat. You'd been lucky enough for the ball to glance off the side of your bat during one of the later innings, but by the time you'd slid to first base, Geto had the ball in hand to get you out. To his credit, he had looked apologetic about it even as Gojo hacked up a lung in the outfield.

"You know I suck at baseball, no need to bring up how bad I am at it now," you snap.

"Whoa, looks like I hit a nerve," he says. Gojo reaches for your hand and pulls you to him so that you're standing between his spread legs. "No need to get all prissy. It's just a metaphor, I promise."

"So what is third base then?"

"Aren't you eager?" Gojo asks. "I gotta show you the first two before we get to that."

"Ok, then. Show me."

"Sweet!" he says, smiling up at you in a way that makes your stomach swoop. "Can I kiss you?"

You're not sure why him asking to kiss you has stunned you so, but all you can do is nod before he places a palm to the side of your neck, his thumb resting on the hinge of your jaw. He guides your lips to slant over his, petal soft. Your first kiss, and it tastes sweet, like whatever dessert he was indulging in before he thought to knock on your door.

You fall into the rhythm of the kiss, allowing his tongue to delve into the heat of your mouth. You moan as it slides against yours, and you press closer to him, sink your hands into the silky white strands of his hair to pull him closer still. To think that he gave you an orgasm before this. The thought makes your face heat up even more.

Gojo breaks away from you, a glistening web of shared spit hanging between you before it snaps with his breathless smile.

"How you liking first base?" he asks.

"Good," you pant, distracted by his plump, shimmering lips.

"Good," he echoes with a laugh. And that's when you repeat his question in your head. Good? Why the hell did you answer like that?

Before you can think yourself into a state of complete humiliation, Gojo takes hold of your waist and flips you onto the mattress. He swings one leg over your hips, cages you in with his forearms braced on either side of your head and locks his lips with yours again. Hungry and impatient, all you can do is moan into his mouth and try to keep pace. You could spend hours, days even, just doing this.

Kisses start to trail down your throat, trembling with your lustful moans. He opens up the collar of your top wide so he can suck and kiss at the dip of your collarbone. Your hips raise at the feel of his teeth on your skin, his tongue soothing the sting of his bite right after.

He grips the hem of your top and lifts his head from your neck. "Can I pull this up some?"

"Yeah, go for it," you say.

"Now we're talking." He pushes your shirt over your breasts so it's bunched up at your collarbones, rendering you practically topless. Whatever happened to pulling it up 'some'?

Gojo kisses up your stomach, your breath hitching nearly every time his wet mouth meets your heated skin. He leaves a savory kiss at the center of your chest there before he cups your left breast in his palm.

"A perfect fit," he marvels as he squeezes. He licks from underneath your breast to your nipple, flicks his tongue against the bud before he closes his mouth around it and sucks. Your pussy clenches hard and your hips grind up against his stomach. He toys with your other breast with his opposite hand, tugging and tweaking your nipple while it awaits the delicious torment that is his mouth.

His eyes meet yours as he kisses his way across the valley of your chest, a question in his blue gaze.

"Feels good, hah ahh!" He tugs your nipple between his teeth, the pain making you ache much lower. "Feels really good."

Gojo releases your right nipple with a lewd pop. "You look ready for third base. What do you think?"

"I'm ready. So ready. I want it."

"Then you'll have it, angel." This new pet name causes you to shiver. Or maybe it's the wet kisses descending to your waistline. Or it could be the anticipation of what third base could entail.

Gojo grips the waist of your yoga pants, and you nod. He yanks your underwear down with them in one go. With your shirt still bunched up, you're essentially naked, but it's more exciting than nerve wracking. You like the way Gojo appraises your body before he nips at your thigh. 

You spread your legs wide to accommodate the breadth of his shoulders as he settles between them. It's easy for you to forget just how built Gojo is. He's not the beanstalk he was when you'd first met him, far from it.

Your hips twitch upward when he ghosts his fingers over your cunt, gathering the arousal on the pads of long appendages. He pops them into his mouth and sucks, and your mouth falls open with a shaky exhale.

"I want a taste of you. That okay?"

"Anything's okay," you rush to say, and upon the awe that overtakes his face, you add, "I mean, as long as it's with you. I'll tell you if I don't like something."

"Sounds good. But believe me, you're gonna love this."

He parts your lips with his tongue, a hot lick from your entrance up to the the side of your clit. Another broad lick and you whimper. You all but gush on his tongue as he sucks on your lips and kisses your cunt. You sink your fingers into his hair, scratch at the buzzed strands of his undercut when he dips his tongue inside you, fucking you slow. His nose bumps your clit each time he pushes his tongue into you, reaching deeper into your sex.

When his mouth finally closes around your clit, you come with a near silent whimper. Your head presses back into the pillows as your body shudders with your orgasm. You can't believe how easy it was for him to tip you over the edge but you can hardly find it in you to complain when you feel like you could float out of your own body.

"Where you going, huh?" Gojo grabs you by the waist and pulls you closer – you hadn't realized how far up the bed you'd moved. His grip shifts to your thighs and he pushes them up into the air before he latches onto your clit again and sucks. 

"Holy shit," you whine at the feel of his soft lips drawing the sensitive bud deeper into his mouth. His tongue strokes it and your entire body trembles. You root your fingers into your bed sheets, hoping to ground yourself in the face of the onslaught that is Gojo Satoru, but you're helpless against the way he kisses your sex, tender and intense at once. His fingers squeeze at your thighs, push them closer and closer to your shoulders while he buries his face further into your folds with lewd moans. When you come this time, he catches nearly all of your essence with broad licks of his tongue. His eyes are closed, content, as he cleans you up.

He brings your legs back down before he leans over you to peck your lips.

"Third Base?" he asks. You sink your fingers in his hair again and deepen the kiss.Gojo matches the fervid brush of your lips with his own. 

"Good," you sigh. "So fucking good."

He presses closer, his fluttering chest to yours, trim waist fitted between your spread legs. And you revel in the heat of his body that you can still feel through his layers of clothes. He bites your bottom lip and tugs before he kisses you harder, tangles his tongue with yours. Only this time, your tongue seeks his out as well. Gojo drops more of his weight on you with a moan that ripples through you. His fingers follow a similar path, slipping between the crush of your bodies to your weeping sex.

"You still want more, yeah? " he pants into your neck. "Is that why she's crying?"

He plunges a finger inside you, your plush walls constrict around it like a vise. He moans into your ear – in concert with your mewl against his temple. 

"You're gripping me so t-tight," he stutters, just barely able to pull the finger out some. 

You try to relax as he pets your walls with his finger, but it's getting harder to breathe with his own ragged breaths tickling your neck. 

He groans in pleasure when he manages to sink another finger into the hot clutch of your cunt, scissoring them inside you until he grazes your most sensitive spot. 

"Got you," he hisses. Both fingers hone in on that spongy patch inside of you, pulling cries of pleasure from you with ease. He's eager to make you come again, fucks his fingers into you with precision and dizzying speed. Gojo nibbles his way down your chest to suck your right nipple back into his mouth. Your body has never known such pleasure and you feel drunk with it.

Your walls clench and relax in rapid succession as you come, the force of it pushing his fingers nearly out of you. He pulls them out the rest of the way and releases your breast with a wet pop to surge up and kiss you. He grinds his hips against yours, the hot line of his rigid cock rubbing against your clit. You lock your legs around his lower back to meet the frenzy of his thrusts. He's so hard and hot above you, gripping your hips and grinding you further into the mattress. 

With a sultry cry, his cock softens as arousal gushes from your pussy. Heat blossoms between you, hips move mindlessly. A drunken, almost coordinated dance only you two know. Your open mouth panting into his. Bodies melted, melting, together.

Part 3 - Curtain Call

It's late when you step up to the sliding doors of Gojo's living quarters. Most everyone is asleep at this hour, save you and, hopefully, Gojo. Or maybe you'd rather he be asleep so you can save yourself the impending humiliation.

Ten minutes pass. Ten minutes of you poising your hand to knock on the door, then wrenching it away just as your knuckles are about to make contact with the wood. One minute you're hyping yourself up, saying that you should be empowered, emboldened, to seek out your own pleasure. The next is spent convincing yourself that you're a horny freak who should not be banging down his door so late at night when he's just returned from a prolonged mission. 

In your defense, he'd been by your place every night before he left so you could…brush up on your lessons. As soon as you'd open the door for him he'd be on you, kissing you boneless into your bed for hours. He'd then pump his long, lithe fingers into you or plug in your wand. But he'd always, always, go down on you, claiming it was an effective stress reliever for him, too.

But that all changed when he'd been tasked with investigating what reporters, conspiracy theorists, and some spooked government officials alike were calling a haunted amusement park in one of the northern provinces. You'd prepared yourself for 48 hours without him, but the withdrawals really started to hit you at hour 73. He'd started plaguing your dreams, both during the day when you would space out in the middle of combat instruction and at night when you'd finally exhausted yourself from thinking of him too much. You wondered if he might have put some sex hex on you. Or maybe a lust curse got to you without your noticing, because you can't seem to function properly without an orgasm or two from the blue-eyed sorcerer.

At hour 96, you'd decided to visit Shoko for advice. You'd been hesitant to confide in her about the nature of your arrangement with Gojo beforehand, but she was far from fazed when you hopped up on the examination table and broke the news.

"Believe me, I know all about it. Satoru can't shut up about clearing his roster and focusing all his efforts on you."

"He can't?" you asked, your face flushing with pleasure. "Wait, what has he told you? And who's on his roster? Anyone we know?" You didn't want to read too much into what Shoko had said. Things seemed pretty casual on his end, and you were trying to match that. Trying, being the operative word.

"As far as I know, his roster has cobwebs on it," she said as she reached into the drawer of her desk and pulled out two nips. You took the small bottle of vodka, leaving her with whisky. You both unscrewed the top and tipped the liquor into your mouths, though you'd only managed a startled sip while Shoko drained her's of it's contents.

"But don't worry about that. He's been too busy for those dates he likes to go on."

You had to agree, it had been a while since he last regaled you all with tales of his dating life, much more robust than you imagined possible for a jujutsu sorcerer as esteemed as him.

"So you don't think I was cursed or something?" you asked.

"Not in the traditional sense. I think he might've dickmatized you, but nothing more concerning than that. My official medical advice; just ride it out, it'll pass eventually."

"But he hasn't even put his dick in me yet," you'd said.

"Oh? Then I'm curious to see what will happen to you once he does."

"What will happen to me?"

"Don't let this become a new stressor in your life," she'd tsked. "Your labs are finally back to normal, I can't have you running back in here spouting nonsense about being at death's door again. Don't overthink it, just enjoy yourself please."

Which is why you're here so late, a bag from a local dessert shop in one hand, your other hand shyly approaching his door before hastily retreating from it. 

Just as you're about to knock, for real this time, his door slides open. Your mouth goes dry at the sight of him. It's far from your first time seeing Gojo in his uniform but you've been seeing him in a new light lately, and tonight is no different. Your eyes travel along the length of his legs, take in the fit of the jacket hiding his well-sculpted torso. The soft strands of his hair stand up from the black blindfold covering his eyes. And that bemused smile on his face…oh now he's laughing.

"What have we here?" he asks. "Don't tell me you stopped by just to stare at me or something? That's real cute of you."

You drop your fist and hold up the bag you'd been hiding behind your back. "For you. I got some daifuku as a welcome home treat."

Gojo takes the bag and offers a murmur of thanks. He takes a bite of one of the delicate treats, and your eyes latch onto his mouth as he chews, track the movement of his throat when he finally swallows.

"This can't be the only reason you showed up here, right?" he asks, looking justly amused. "Right?"

"I want to have sex with you."

Gojo tilts his head to the side, regards you with playful curiosity. "Isn't that what we've been doing though?"

He indulges in the rest of the daifuku as you think back on his past lessons. Sure he never came himself, except for that one time when he'd dry humped you through the mattress. But that doesn't mean you two haven't been having sex. Perhaps you need to unpack that further. 

Some other time.

"Right. You're right, that's exactly what we've been doing," you say, and he smiles wickedly at you.

"So you want me to eat you out again, that it? Told you, you'd love it."

"Yes. But I also…I want…please don't make me say it. You must know what I want."

"I really don't."

"Fine. I want you to fuck me. Not with your tongue, or-or with your fingers–"

"Oh, I see." Gojo takes one of your hands, places it on the swell of his cock. "You want this, yeah?"

Your breath hitches. He's already hard?

Gojo drops your hand in favor of slinging an arm over your shoulders. He pulls you into his room and closes the door behind you. "You're hilarious, you know that? You don't have to bribe me to sleep with you. I'll do you free of charge."

"It's not a bribe, I'm just trying to be nice!"

"To think if you'd just waited another day, I'd be the one begging you. Buuuut, I can't say I'm not pleased with this outcome."

"Just finish the daifuku and fuck me."

"Oh? And here I thought you were such a lady. Couldn't even say that you wanted dick but now you're telling me to hurry up and fuck you already," Gojo puts the bag of dessert down on a low table. He pulls you into his arms and brushes a gentle kiss to your lips. "I get it though, you're aching to be filled right now, aren't you?"

"Yeah, I am," you say as he pecks you again.

"Poor baby," he coos. "I've neglected you for too long. I'll give you what you need."

You sigh when his mouth meets yours in a languid kiss. The glide of his plush lips coaxing you closer until your body is flush with his. He dips his head to lick up the column of your throat and kiss his way back down again.

"You smell so good," Gojo groans into your neck. "Like flowers."

"It's lavender," you say, breathless, as he nips at your pulse point. You're grateful that you've been using that fancy soap still, because you think this moment seems to be one such special occasion that you would've saved it for anyway.

"It suits you," he says as he unbuttons your pants. You shimmy out of them and kick them aside.

"It's expensive," you say, pulling your top over your head.

"So what? I'll foot the bill so long as I'm the only one smelling it on you." Gojo unclasps your bra and adds it to the growing pile of clothes. Even with the blindfold on you can feel his eyes traveling over your body. "Fuck, you're hot."

"I am?"

"Look at you fishing for compliments," he says as he unbuttons his jacket and shrugs it off. "Yes, you're hot. I can't believe no one's tried to get in your pants before."

"I mean people have tried—"

"Not hard enough." Gojo pulls off his shirt then shucks off his pants in record time, leaving him in only his boxer briefs and blindfold. "But enough talk about those losers from before. Let's try something different tonight."

"Like what?"

"I want you–" Gojo falls into the center of his bed. "–to sit right here." He points at his smiling face. Your stomach drops. Your own face must convey that clearly, because his grin drops as well .

"What's wrong? Scared you're gonna suffocate me or something."

"Honestly, yes."

“Oh please. I’m stronger than strong. Some might even say the strongest." He flexes a bicep for emphasis, the round curve of his muscle contracting in a way that would otherwise make you drool if you weren't so nervous. "I can handle you, all of you.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. You do really like when he goes down on you, and while you’re well versed in that now, your apprehension just won’t let you commit.

“Tell you what. You gotta sit on my face first if you want to sit on this di–"

“Hey, I’ll do it,” you hiss, already shimmying your panties off. “You are so ridiculous, you know that?" 

“Come on, enough talk. Your throne awaits."

You make to crawl onto the bed but stop short. "Aren't you gonna take off your blindfold?"

"I thought you didn't like my scary eyes." He lifts one side so he can wink at you.

"Don't put words in my mouth," you grumble before admitting, "I want to see you looking at me."

"You're being extra cute today. You must really want me," he says, but obliges your request. He pulls the blindfold over his head, polar white hair falling into his eyes again. "For your information, I'm always looking at you."

You roll your eyes. What a line.

Gojo sits up to meet your gaze, shifting every time you try avert it from him. "I see you trying to fight a smile. You like that, huh? Knowing that these 'scary' blue eyes are set on you?"

"Mind you, you have six eyes in total."

"All of them fixed on you, baby," he coos.

You push his shoulder and he flops back down. "Shut up. How should I sit?"

Gojo helps you swing your left leg over his face so you're kneeling, facing the end of the bed. Your eyes snag on the prominent bulge of his dick in his boxer briefs, and your nerves coalesce with your desire. 

"Helloooo?" he cries, wiggling his toes as if in greeting. "Are you listening to me? I said you can sit lower."

"Can you stop wiggling your toes like that?" you ask, frowning at his feet. "It's weird."

"Aww, but they just want to say hello," he whines as he spreads his toes wide apart.

"I'll get off if you keep it up."

"No you won't," he says, but still complies. 

"Thank you."

"Now you need to do something for me," he says, squeezes your plush hips. "Sit properly, I promise you'll go crazy over it and you won't kill me."

You drop down lower, and he wastes no time in flattening his tongue over your clit and lapping his way between your ass cheeks. You shiver and moan as he gives you more broad, slow strokes.

"You taste so good," he mumbles into your folds, the vibrations of his words making your entire body tighten. He sets his teeth on your clit and you lose your balance, falling forward a bit. You brace your hands on the bed as he sucks and kisses your clit.

"You're my favorite dessert. Mmm, I can't get enough." To prove it, he speeds up the strokes of his tongue. You feel him nuzzle deeper into your pussy so that his nose notches on your contracting hole. The sounds of him devouring you with such voracious, wet licks and obscene sucks is making you so hot. Your head starts to go fuzzy from the pleasure.

"Fuck, Gojo. Feels so good–"

"Ugh, enough with the Gojo," he groans as he lifts you off him, just enough that you can feel his lips grazing yours as he speaks. "Would it kill you to call me Satoru?

"Oh! No, it's just, I mean I'm just used to calling you Go–"

"No, no, don't say it again!" he cries from underneath you. It's a strange type of foreplay, this, but you can't deny you're turned on. And if the tent in his underwear are any indication, it's safe to say he feels the same.

"Can you please, please, with whipped cream, hot fudge, and three maraschino cherries on top, call me by my given name? Please?"

You lean down, kiss his stomach; the muscles contract with his gasp.

"Of course, Satoru," you murmur against his hot skin. He pulls you back down at once, nudges your clit with his nose and licks up your arousal. You rest your palms on his chest, graze them along the contours of his abdomen. Again, his stomach curves inward, even more so when you rake your nails back up. Your hands smooth back down his torso. Wondering fingers follow the trail of downy, white hair to just underneath the waistline of his briefs.

He wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you low enough that you worry that he truly can't breathe. But the concern dissolves at once. He kisses your cunt so good that you have to rest your chest along his stomach, lungs heaving, body shaking. You can hardly keep yourself upright from the passion he's sharing with you.

"Mm! Don't stop," you moan against his pelvis. He grips your hips tight and moves you along his face, his tongue delving deeper, fucking you faster. Your breaths shudder out of you, and his own body quivers beneath yours with each heated exhalation.

Through the haze of lust, you think to tug down his underwear, just enough to free his cock. You want to at least try to return the favor.

"What the hell is that?" you ask, jolting back when his hardened length springs up right away.

"Don't talk about him like that," he whines.

"It's huge!" you hiss, and his dick twitches, foreskin retracting some to reveal the flushed tip.

"Why, thank you– Wait, why do you sound so surprised? You should've assumed I'd be well endowed."

"It's not gonna fit, how would it fit?" you ask yourself as you grip the base of his cock. It's so hot and girthy in your hand, your fingers just barely reach your thumb. And it's so long, too. How are you–

"Gotta have more faith in yourself. You can take it. I'll make sure you can."

He pushes two of his fingers inside of you, slides them in and out of you while he slurps lewdly on your clit. Your hips grind down against his face, chasing the pleasure only he can give you. Fingers rub against your puffy walls, in search of your weakest spot.

"Oh? You like it when I touch you here?" He fucks his fingers faster, arousal splashing out of you the deeper his fingers reach. You sag against the smooth skin of his torso with a whimper, body jolting as starlight sparkles just beneath your skin.

"So good. Feels so good," you mewl while he drinks in your essence.

"Mhm," he moans into your folds. He still massages at the spongy patch inside of you, intent as always to make you come again even before you come down from your climax.

It takes all your strength to push yourself up onto shaky forearms. You open your mouth and let saliva drip from the tip of your tongue onto the head of his twitching cock. You smear the bubbly mix of your spit and his pre on your palm to coat the rest of his length.

"Grip it tighter," he groans after your hand glides up to his tip again. You do what he asks, but still, "Tighter. Come on, tighter. Hold on."

You gasp when he pulls his fingers out of you. It's your only warning before Satoru flips you flat on your back. With wide eyes, you watch him press up to his knees, cock erect against his toned stomach. Satoru pushes his briefs the rest of the way down and off, then goes to join you at the foot of the bed. He maneuvers you onto your side while he lays on his back. You trail your right hand lightly over his abs again, but he captures it, brings your hand up to his mouth and spits. Your pussy clenches in response, and you have to fight the surprising urge to lick your palm clean, coat your tongue with his saliva.

Satoru guides your hand back to the base of his cock; his long fingers close around yours and he squeezes so tight that his exhale is a moan, hot and wet, at the base of your neck. The veins of his cock throb in your grasp, heated blood pulsing through him.

"Let me show you." He sets a stunning pace, pumps your hand around his cock fast. He's swearing, moaning into your ear and you can only squeeze your thighs together. So close, so hot. You wonder if this is what it feels like, to melt into someone. 

His foreskin retracts fully as you both jerk him off; the glans, smoldering red, oozes pre that aids the glide of your fist around him. 

"This is what you do to me." Both your hands little more than a blur as he chases his pleasure. Your trembling breath and his. Satoru screws up his face the closer he gets. Even with his features taut and tense, you've never seen someone so beautiful. He was made for pleasure and fun, and all the sweet things.

Satoru pants your name into your hairline when he comes, the whisper soft puff of it enough to distract you from the fact that he is painting you in cum, hot and sticky on your chest and cheek. He keeps moving your hand up and down his length, until he hisses at the overstimulation, softened. 

"I forgot you guys do that," you say as you tuck in your head to inspect his release. Milky white iridescence on your skin. "You have condoms here, right?"

"Yup! But let me help you first." He leans down and licks his spend from the curve of your breast with a broad lick – doesn't stop until he reaches the slope of your cheekbone. He sticks out his tongue to show you, and you lean forward, eyes locked on his, and lick along the length of the wet muscle. Salty silk on your taste buds. You kiss him, slow and deep and charged despite how ardent your desire is for him. Satoru moans into your mouth and you press closer until you're nearly on top of him. It's hard to ignore the pure eroticism of mixing your release and his with your mouths. The knowledge makes you kiss him that much more thoroughly.

He parts from you with heavy gasps, an awestruck gleam in his eyes. "You're a real good kisser," he says.

"Thank you." A shy smile pulls at your lips. 

"Which means you have to admit that I'm the best teacher alive."

The smile vanishes. "No way."

"Yes, way," he says, squeezes you closer. "Admit that I'm the strongest, smartest, sexiest, teacher there ever was."

"You're already full of yourself as is."

"And if you really wanted to be full of me too you'd stroke more than just my dick. C'mon give my ego some love."

You peck his glossy lips, and he pecks you right after.

"Can the strongest, smartest, sexiest teacher there ever was please go get a condom so he can fuck me already?" you ask, pouting just a little bit to appeal to his cuteness sensibilities.

"Just because you asked so sweetly." Satoru gives you one more quick kiss before he rolls off the bed. You watch his retreat, taking stock of his body. His slim waist and tight ass and those shoulders. You can't imagine seeing anyone with such a physique, and you realize you don't want to. Shoko has every right to be worried. You're a bit too whipped for Satoru, and you fear you'll only act more insane once he's through with you. 

He returns with a box of twelve that only has three left, a short strip of gold foil packets. He tears one of them free and sets the other two on his nightstand.

"Now this," he says, holds the packet so you can read the XL printed on its face. "This is a proper condom. See? Not on the brink of disintegration or extra small like the one in your room."

You feel that you should defend the honor of your hidden-and-forgotten-in-the-dresser, perfectly regular sized, condom even though it has, in fact, celebrated quite a few birthdays. But your mouth doesn't form those words.

"Who did you use the other nine with?"

"Eh? Other nine what?" He follows your gaze when it cuts to the upended box on his floor. A cheshire grin lights up his face as he turns to look at you again. "Oh, are you jelly? I can't believe it. That's amazing."

"Just forget I said anything."

"If it makes you feel any better, it's been a minute since I last used these. Maybe even a minute and a half."

"I'm sorry," you say, cover your face with your palms. "I probably sound fucking crazy. I promise that I'm not."

"No, I looove when you're possessive of me. Gets me so hard, see?" He pries one of your hands from your face, puts it back on his cock. It is, in fact, standing at attention again, pre-cum bubbling at his flushed tip. You glance back up at him and he nods to confirm that yes, your question about who else he's messing with and when and how long has turned him on so much that he might as well have not come just a few moments ago.

Satoru tears the packet open with his teeth. Your breath hitches at the arresting sight of his canines ripping the plastic apart. He pinches the tip of the condom and rolls it onto the heavy length of him.

"You nervous?" he asks as he knees between your legs.

"If I say yes will you be an ass about it?"

"Nope. I sympathize with your plight," he says, and you roll your eyes. "You have to go up against the Mini-Honored One. I wouldn't make light of that. Not ever."

"Mini Honored One? Oh, my god," you giggle.

"Don't laugh, this is so, so serious." Satoru positions himself on top of you, kisses your cheek. "We'll go slow. Tell me if it's too much, okay? Only a little shame in tapping out early, less than you think."

You scoff at that. You can almost hear him teasing you now, inflating his ego even further as he goes on and on about how he's too endowed for you.

Satoru taps the head of his cock on your clit, a shock of pleasure surges through you.

"C'mon, I asked you a question. You'll tell me, okay?"

"Okay!"

Your body tenses when the head of his cock breaches your entrance. You have to grip his bicep tight when he pushes in another inch, the pressure is almost uncomfortable. He kisses your temple, breathes out a soft command, relax. On your next exhale, you try to do just that. The burning stretch of him deep inside of you becomes a simmer when he finally bottoms out. His breath ruffles your hair as he holds himself still above you. You like it, being this close and this full. You bear down on him, experimenting, and his arms buckle. 

"Oh, you are wicked," he whines when you squeeze around him again. "If I wasn't your first I'd swear you were a succubus."

"I'm sorry," you say to him, more than pleased with the results of your research. "You can move now."

Satoru draws his hips back and drives himself back into you, the matted hair of his pelvis brushing against yours. Another meeting of your hips elicits a soft sigh from you and he pulls you back in for a kiss. You like how that feels. His soft moans in your mouth zinging through your veins and straight to the chambers of your heart.

You try to keep pace with him when he speeds up, but Satoru is wild as he fucks you. Making you sweat, tiring you out, all the while whining and moaning as he nears another orgasm. He swipes desperately at your clit until your body seizes up under him. Your nails dig into the taut muscle of his ass and drag across the smooth skin of his back.

"Fuck!" he whines as you scratch him. He wraps his arms around your waist so you're plastered to him, and at once he starts fucking you faster.

"Satoru, I'm gonna come. You're gonna make me come, please don't stop. Don't stop."

Your breath catches as your pleasure crests. He fucks you through your orgasm, your body shivering and screaming beneath his, until the tension snaps in him and he comes with rough snaps of his hips. 

You whimper when he eases out of you. He pulls the condom off, his length still hard despite the orgasm. He ties it off and tosses it perfectly into a waste basket at the opposite end of the room. You watch him slide another one on before he grabs your waist and guides you onto your hands and knees. The bed dips as he presses onto his knees as well. You drop to your forearms when he presses into you again. His palm squeezes the globe of your ass then trails along the length of your spine. Fitted between your shoulder blades, he pushes you down so your chest is pressed into the bed and your back is arched, enticing and curved. 

Satisfied with your new position, he grabs your hips and pistons against your ass. He pulls your body to meet his, mind-numbing jolts of ecstasy when flesh meets flesh. Drool trickles out of your mouth as you moan and grip the bedding for purchase.

"Satoru!" you gasp when he reaches for your clit, and something snaps within him. He pulls out, flips you onto your back and drives himself in with a deep thrust. 

Satoru drapes his body on top of yours. Your chest squished beneath his pectorals, hardened nipples grazing his skin. You warble his name again, a wanton moan that is pure sin. Satoru kisses you quick as the pace of his thrusts grows more erratic. His cock softens inside you with each jerk of his hips. But he pulls out of you abruptly, sits up with a frown.

"What's wrong?" you ask, lifting yourself onto your elbows.

"You didn't come," he complains. "I have to make it up to you."

Satoru takes your hands in his and pulls you up to sit. He grabs another gold wrapper and tears it open. "Would you like to do the honors?"

 You nod, take the condom out from the lubricated plastic. Pinch the tip like you saw him do before rolling it down his length, hard and drooling. He groans when you reach the thick base of him, holding him in place so you can sink down on his dick. He's so deep like this.

You gyrate your hips; lean back, hands braced on the bed as you slowly grind your clit on his abs. The head of his cock rubs your sweet stop perfectly as you fuck him the way you want. 

He licks his fingers and swipes tight circles around your clit. You move more wildly against him. Arousal splashes onto his pelvis and he gathers you into his arms, your chest against his again. He plants his feet into the bed and drives himself deep inside you, desperate desire in the push of his pelvis and yours. You can barely move, barely breathe. Only grip his shoulders for dear life.

Satoru slaps your ass and you yelp at the sting. Your cunt squeezes him hard, and more of your essence seeps out of you. Both of his hands grab your ass so he can bounce you up and down his length, fucking you as fast as he wants. You take his face and kiss him when he pushes into you this last time, body lax beneath you as pleasure travels through him, sating him. You collapse against his chest, trying to catch your breath. You close your eyes and listen to the roar of blood in and out of his heart.

You lift yourself up, lidded eyes fixed on him. You kiss him once, awed as always at how easily he pulls orgasms out of you, makes you feel so good. The next kiss makes his dick twitch between your walls. When you go in for another, he places two fingers on your lips, keeps you from meeting his.

"Whoops. Time's up," he says.

"What?" you gasp as he pulls himself out of you, the loss of his heat jarring.

He ties off and pitches the condom into the receptacle. "No more condoms. Sorry to disappoint you. But look what we can play with instead." 

Satoru reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a miniature version of your wand. "Tada! Isn't this great, you don't even need to plug it in!"

The sight of the toy is more distressing than it should be. He's serious about calling it a night! Normally, you'd be more than happy to have him use the wand on you, but now that you've had a taste of his dick, that's all you really want.

"W-wait." You take the wand from his hands and place it on the bed. "We can keep going."

Satoru looks from the toy back to you, fixing you with a look that screams 'moron'. "Remember when I said two seconds ago that I have zero condoms left?" 

"We don't need them!"

Satoru cocks his head to the side, eyes searching yours. Caught in his gaze you see it, the arrogance overtaking his face.

"You want me that bad, huh?" he laughs as he puts you on your back again, head hanging over the side of his bed. "As long as you're sure, angel, I'll do whatever you want me to."

He drapes your legs over his shoulders and presses you in half. You mewl when he grinds his dick deep into you, the head nuzzling your cervix, walls tight and plush around him. Each slow, sticky thrust into your sweet spot makes your body prickle with heat.

"Such a good idea," he groans as he fucks you. "Feels so good without a rubber."

"Want more," you whine. 

"I know, I know. I'm going so slow, aren't I? I'm sorry." He puts more of his weight on you; your knees meet your shoulders, his firm stomach presses into yours. Smiling lips graze your mouth when he says, "Let me make it all better."

His hips snap into yours, fucking down and into your cunt. Your fingers curl into the sheets again as Satoru brings you to the brink of bliss. His body hardly parts from you, instead sinking deeper each time he drives himself into your wet heat. You can barely kiss him with how shaky your breaths are, so he buries his face into the dip of your shoulder, bites down and sucks.

"Satoru, I'm coming, I'm coming," you sob. Your walls flutter around him as you reach another sweet climax. He moans around the skin of your neck before biting elsewhere, leaving you with another love bite before he unhooks your legs and kneels before you again. 

Satoru grips your waist and rocks into you, his hips pistoning fast. The room is loud with the wet smacks of skin meeting skin, Satoru's whines and your whimpers. Your vision blurs from the tears spilling from your eyes. The pleasure is almost too overwhelming to comprehend. 

You lift your right hand to touch the sweat-slick skin of his abdomen, fingers creeping up to the left pectoral where his heart races just beneath.

"You feel s-so good, Satoru," you mewl, voice weak and thready. 

His heavy thrusts speed up, lightning zinging across your skin. You sink your nails into the center of his chest and with a loud groan of your name the rhythm of his strokes shifts from concentrated to erratic and powerful. Your head lolls to the side, overcome by the intensity, but Satoru grips your cheeks, makes you face him again.

"Hey," he says, lightly slaps your cheek. "Keep your eyes on me, baby."

 Your pussy clenches at the bright, erotic sting that blooms on the side of your face. Your hands find their way around his shoulders and you tug him closer again. He gives you a wet, sloppy kiss, tongues and teeth licking and nipping as the desire stirs between you.

"Fuck, you take my dick so well," his voice, shaky between kisses. "Like you were made for me."

Your whine is so shrill you can barely hear it. 

"Yeah, you like that? Your pussy's gripping me even tighter now. I can barely move again."

"Sorry-sorry," you pant, trying to relax but you clench around him harder. 

"No, don't say sorry, just keep milking me like that, baby." Satoru only presses deeper into you, the head of his cock kissing your cervix and making you shiver. 

"Close, close–unh." 

Satoru cuts you off with a kiss. You hear his hand scrabbling against the mattress, and then an abrupt buzz. He presses the long forgotten wand between your clit and his pelvis. Your hips soar upwards with a sharp cry, and Satoru swears harshly, drives you deeper into the mattress. He presses and rubs the wand against your sex until white hot pleasure scorches through you. The toy splatters your gushing arousal as you come, and Satoru fucks you through it, warm cum spurting deep inside as he ruts into your cunt.

He drops his weight on top of you with a groan, kisses your cheek, your shoulder, your neck in the afterglow of your coupling. You close your eyes and caress the skin of his back, try not to feel too embarrassed by the raised skin you feel. 

"Who knew you'd have a marking kink," he chuckles tiredly. 

"Don't makes fun of me! It was an accident."

"I'm not! it's fine. Just makes me want to mark you up too, is all." He pushes himself off you and surveys your body. His eyes light up at the sight of your neck. "And looks like I did! Sweet."

You gasp, hand flying up to the base of your throat. The skin is tender from his love bites earlier. But you're not as upset as you should be. Yes, you'll have to try to cover them up, but…he might be right about the marking thing. You want everyone to know that you're his.

Cum oozes out of you when Satoru pulls out with a sigh. He kisses your forehead before he climbs off the bed with a promise to be right back. Your body is sore, delectably so.

"Wake up," Satoru sings. You open your eyes in time to see him press a piece of mochi to your lips. "I did a number on you, huh? Make sure you go to the bathroom before you drift off to dreamland."

You nod before taking a small bite of the dessert. He watches you, eyes clear and warm, like stepping into a Caribbean sea. He pops the rest of the dessert in his mouth before falling on top of you. Your shriek of alarm gives way to giggles as he rolls you both to the far end of the bed, hauling you on top of him in the end. The grin on his face is decorated by a fleck of red bean paste and you giggle more. 

"I want to laugh too. What is it?" he says with a pout. 

"You got something on your lip," you point out, cupping his jaw in your hand.

"Oh, so you're obsessed with me now? It was only a matter of time–"

You cut him off by licking the sweet paste from his top lip. He looks stunned

"Only a matter of time before what?" you ask, trying to emulate his trademark smugness. 

But Satoru doesn't answer, instead pulls you down for an electrifying kiss that tells you that you won't be getting much sleep at all.

The shutter of a camera makes you bolt upright in bed. You're alone, no one around to take such a compromising photo of you. But still, the shutter goes off again. You wrap yourself in a sheet and follow the sound into Satoru's en-suite, door slightly ajar. You peek inside to see Satoru with his back to the mirror. He holds his phone up, throws up a peace sign as he takes another photo. You nudge the door open more, and your breath catches at the sight of the ravaged skin of his back. Raised streaks of red cutting through the muscled expanse. 

"Hey, the princess finally wakes. Wanna get in this next pic? Suguru doesn't believe that you'd scratch me up this good unless we were locked in combat."

"You're sending those to Geto?"

"Uh, absolutely."

"Don't you dare." You try to grab his phone but he holds it above his head.

"Tell you what," you say as you wrap your arms around his waist and look up at him as innocently as possible. "I'll take the picture with you if you tell me if you've hooked up with anyone else we know."

"No can do." He pretends to zip his lips shut.

"Why not?" you ask with a pout.

"I don't kiss and tell," he says.

"You're literally in the middle of texting Geto about me shredding up your back!"

"It's not like I'm asking you about who else you've hooked up with."

"That's because you're the only one."

"Oh. Right…." Satoru walks you both out of the bathroom then. "Would you believe me if I said that I've gone so long without sex that I'm basically a born again virgin?"

"Gojo."

"Hey, hey. Easy with the surname." He drags you back into bed with him, crushes you in his embrace. "I think the only things you need to concern your pretty little head with is the fact that I'm clean, my roster has been obsolete for a good while now, and that I fixed your broken pussy. You're very welcome."

"It's Geto isn't it?"

He stiffens. "I can neither confirm nor deny the status of past friends with benefits arrangements."

You rest your chin on his clavicle to look at him. "So this is a friends with benefits thing, too?" 

"No! The thing with Suguru wasn't as serious– Hey! You are so sneaky!"

"Sorry," you offer despite the smile he is bound to feel against his chest. You're relived at the thought of Geto being Satoru's old flame. And slightly, aroused? He's lucky you're feeling much more tender than before, otherwise…

"So if this is more serious then what are we doing?" you ask.

It wasn’t about being impressive or smooth or knowing exactly what to do.

It was more like hoping not to scare her off.

Before Dustin could say anything else, the studio door swung open.

Max came in first, pulling off her jacket with Lucas close behind her, already laughing about something Steve didn’t catch. And then she followed.

She was laughing at Max and Lucas. She wasn't nervous or reserved, she was comfortable and relaxed. She wasn't the woman who’d flustered around him and slipped out of movie night quietly with a shy smile.

Her eyes found him without hesitation.

“Hey,” she said brightly, her smile not faltering.

Steve forgot how words worked.

“Hey,” he managed, seconds too late.

Dustin leaned in close, stage-whispering, “Oh yeah. You definitely have a crush.”

Steve didn’t hear him.

He was too busy watching her cross the room, settling in, already laughing again - and realising with absolute certainty that whatever this was, whether he was a lion or ninja or something else entirely, he was in way deeper than he’d planned.

He was next to useless for the whole session. Or, as Robin told him, slightly more useless than normal.

“Steve -” she hissed, muting the microphone.

He was staring out the booth window, watching her roll Max’s skateboard from from one foot to the other while listening to a very vocal Mike talk through an equation.

“Steve.”

“Hmm?”

Robin jabbed him in the ribs. “You’re supposed to be helping, not staring wistfully into the distance like a rejected John Hughes protagonist.”

He blinked. “I am helping.”

“You have not said a single word in fifteen minutes, I've had to do my own whistle. I'm basically talking to myself!”

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

Robin sighed. “Can you please go and find that Stevie Wonder album?”

Steve nodded eagerly. “Sure, I'll grab it now.”

“And don't trip over your own feelings,” Robin called after him through the open door.

“I don’t have feelings.” He scowled.

Max looked up from her notebook, unimpressed. “Yeah you do.”

Lucas snorted.

Across the room, the tutor glanced away from Mike, confused. “Did I miss something?”

“Nope!” Robin said brightly. “Just Steve being… Steve.”

The session continued, though he barely registered it.

By the time the kids packed up, he was exhausted without reason. He'd done no work, contributed nothing to the study session, and spent the entire afternoon trying not to stare.

“Same time next week?” she asked Max, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

Max nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. Thanks!”

Steve held out her fifteen dollars as she passed him, his fingers brushing hers.

“Thanks. See you next week.”

He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, next week.” He said hoarsely.

As she headed for the door, Dustin leaned in again.

“You are so bad at this. I thought you were the man, but she's got you scared!”

Steve watched her leave.

“Shut up.”

The door clicked closed behind her. The room fell quiet.

“Well,” Robin said finally, clapping her hands once. “That was… educational.”

“Would you all cut it out,” Steve asked, still staring at the door.

“The crush, though!” Max supplied cheerfully, “I am so into this crush.”

He turned. “Excuse me?”

“You’re acting weird,” Lucas said. “Like… nice weird. But also very distracted.”

Will nodded. “Like when you’re trying really hard not to do something and accidentally do it worse.”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, then stopped.

“I’m not -” he started, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m not doing anything.”

Robin raised an eyebrow.

Max snorted. “Look, if you’re worried about being… you know. Old Steve?”

That got his attention.

She shrugged. “You’re not. Old Steve wouldn’t have noticed her at all. He definitely wouldn’t have cared.”

“Or paid her extra,” Dustin added.

“Or worried about whether she felt weird,” Mike supplied.

Steve scrubbed a hand through his hair. “What if I haven’t actually changed? What if I just… got better at pretending?”

Robin stared at him. The kids stared at each other.

“Steve,” she said slowly, “you offered to pay a tutor so a sixteen-year-old girl could graduate with her friends. You let them hang here every day like you’re running a daycare -”

“That's just… survivor's guilt.” He reasoned lamely.

Dustin rolled his eyes so hard that Lucas looked momentarily worried.

Robin ignored them. “You are allowed to be attracted to someone,” she continued. “You are allowed to flirt. You are allowed to be twenty-one and hot and a little stupid about women.”

Mike laughed. “A little?”

Will threw a pen at him.

“But,” Robin went on, poking Steve's chest, “you are not the guy you used to be. That guy wouldn’t be standing here. He wouldn't even dream of being friends with such an excellent group of people.”

“Yeah bro,” Dustin punched his shoulder, “we're great. You love us. You're stuck with us for life.”

“I don’t want to screw this up,” he admitted to them all. “She doesn’t look at me like… like she expects anything from me.”

Max shrugged. “That’s because she doesn’t..”

She pulled Lucas to his feet, slinging her jacket over her shoulder. “Just don’t be an idiot.”

He smirked faintly. “That’s a big ask.”

“I said don’t be an idiot,” she repeated like he was five. “Not don’t be Steve.”

The other kids nodded in unison like this was obvious.

“You’re fine,” Mike said, packing up his bag. “Just stop being so dramatic, and hey, at least you're over my sister now.”

Steve huffed a laugh. “Wow. That's comforting.”

Dustin grinned. “So, who thought we'd ever see the day the Steve Harrington asked us for advice?”

“Not me,” Steve said immediately, raising his hand.

He leaned back against the couch, the knot in his chest easing just a little.

Robin pointed toward the door. “Now you lot get out of here, last thing I need is Mrs Wheeler yelling at me.”

The kids left, dragging bags, bikes and homework projects with them as Robin and Steve followed, switching off lights on the way.

“Aren't you so glad we stayed friends?” She asked, jumping into his passenger seat.

“I'm taking that to my grave. Thanks, Buckley.”

“You're welcome, Stevie.”

~~~~

Robin checked her watch for the third time in ten minutes.

“Ok, I hate to abandon my post as co-parent,” she announced, already grabbing her jacket, “but if I don’t leave now, Vickie will think I’ve stood her up again.”

She pointed two fingers at Steve on her way out.

“You’re in charge. No shitty movies. No fires. No -”

“Robin,” Steve cut in fondly. “Go. You need a ride, looks like it's gonna rain?”

“Nah, I'm meeting her at the hospital.” She peered at the sky outside, “It’ll hold out.”

The door shut behind her and the kids returned to their work with a defeated groan.

“Alright,” Steve said, with his hands on his hips. “You heard the woman. Eyes on your work. No mutiny.”

Dustin squinted at him. “You’re doing her voice.”

“I am not.”

“Yes you are.”

Steve grinned. “And yet, you’re still doing your homework.”

He left them to it and sat in the control booth, surveying the room. For the first time since the kids and Robin had knocked sense into him, he wasn’t vibrating with nerves. The pressure in his chest to be a better man had loosened into something lighter. Almost… fun.

She noticed.

Of course she did.

She glanced up from Max’s notes and watched him spin lazily in the chair just inside the doorway. “You seem different today.”

Steve planted his feet and stopped the chair with a soft squeak. “Different good, or different like call an exorcist?”

She snorted before she could stop herself, an undignified, unpolished sound, then caught it, her lips pressing together as she tried to regain composure. “Different… relaxed.”

He shrugged, easy. “Thought I’d try it out. See if anyone complained.”

Max didn’t look up. “I like this version better.”

“Wow,” Steve said, wounded. “After all we’ve been through together?”

The tutor smiled, tapping her pencil against the paper. “Should I be concerned?”

“Only if you’re allergic to charm,” Steve said lightly.

She rolled her eyes, but the smile stuck. “I’ll take my chances.”

There it was.

The way she ducked her head and suddenly became super invested in Max’s worksheet. The way her fingers tightened around the pencil and her eyes deliberately didn’t look at him again.

Steve felt the unmistakable spark of his confidence blooming under the surface.

So that still works.

He spun the chair again. “So,” he asked casually, “how’s Max doing?”

“Bet I could beat you, Steve -” The redhead gave him the middle finger. “Ask me yourself.”

“She’s improving,” the tutor replied, then turned to Max, “don’t let it go to your head.” She teased.

“Too late,” Dustin muttered.

Max shot him a look. “Thin ice, Dusty-bun.”

Dustin winked. “Worth it.”

Max leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head. “So. Were you always, like… this smart?”

The tutor glanced up. “This smart?”

“Yeah,” Mike chimed in. “Or did you, like, level up later?”

She smiled. “I was pretty good at school. I liked it.”

Steve stood and let the chair roll back into the studio, choosing to fix his attention on the rack of records he had no intention of reorganising.

“Did you know Steve?” Lucas asked bluntly.

Steve froze internally. Smooth, Sinclair.

She hesitated, just long enough for him to clock it.

“I knew of him,” she said carefully.

Max grinned. “Everyone did. Right, Steve?”

Steve turned then, leaning back against the shelf, arms folded. “Hey, I was a big deal.”

She snorted. “You were… cocky.”

The kids howled.

“Wow,” Mike said. “Busted, Harrington.”

Steve placed a hand over his heart. “I’m standing right here.”

She shrugged, amused. “C’mon, you know you ran in a very specific circle.”

“What circle was that?” Will asked.

“The one where you never had to look up from your own reflection,” she said with a smirk.

Steve winced. “Ok, yeah. That tracks.”

Max looked between them. “Did you like him?”

Steve coughed.

She tilted her head, considering the question. “He wasn’t exactly… approachable. And I did not run in the same circles.”

That stung a little. Fairly, but still.

“And now?” Will asked softly.

She glanced at Steve and for once didn’t look away immediately.

“Now,” she said, “he’s different. Clearly you have all had a great effect on him.”

Steve swallowed. Max looked over at him and mouthed, “told you, idiot.”

“So what do you do now?” Lucas pressed on. “Like, when you’re not rescuing Max from another year of high school.”

She smiled again. “Community college, I’m training to teach. On the side I’m tutoring, helping my mom out. Trying to figure things out.”

“Adult stuff,” Dustin said with disgust.

“Terrifying stuff,” she agreed.

Steve finally spoke, keeping his tone light. “You could always do what I’ve done?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Ignore adulthood and hang with teens for the foreseeable?”

“Exactly,” he said, without missing a beat.

She laughed - with him, not at him.

He hadn’t asked a single question, and somehow, he’d learned everything he wanted to know.

“Alright,” she said. “Back to work. You can flirt later - with someone else.”

Steve smiled slowly. “I’m not flirting.”

“Pfft.” Will sniggered.

She met Steve’s eyes then, just for a second - challenging him.

“Well,” she said mildly. “I did wonder. Maybe you’re just rusty.”

Her lips twitched with a ghost of a smile.

“You’d know if I was flirting with you.”

“Focus, Harrington.”

She rolled her eyes, but her focus drifted back to Max’s worksheet a little too intently.

Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance, he wondered if Robin had made it to the hospital before the rain. Will glanced toward the window.

“It’s gonna storm.”

Steve followed his gaze. The sky had gone dark.

“Yeah,” he said. “We should wrap up for today.”

She looked up again. “I just want to make sure Max has this down.”

Max brightened. “I totally do.”

“My mom’s gonna freak if we’re late,” Lucas said, glancing at the darkened sky.

“It’s just rain, Sinclair,” Dustin scoffed, already pulling on his jacket.

Another crack of thunder cut him off.

“- OK, maybe it’s angry rain.”

“See you next week,” she said brightly.

“Make sure he doesn’t use the rain as an excuse to keep you here foreverrrr,” Dustin replied gleefully.

“Out,” Steve said, shoving him.

Outside, as if beckoned by the kids leaving, rain began tapping against the roof.

They piled out the door, already complaining about getting wet.

Inside, Steve let himself enjoy the banter, the spark, the knowledge that he hadn’t lost his edge.

He’d just learned when to use it.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said, watching her pack up. “Storm’s rolling in.”

She glanced toward the window. “I’m not afraid of a little rain.”

He smiled. “Didn’t say you were.”

“You know, I wasn’t sure about this at first.”

He nodded. “Yeah. That checks out.”

She looked curious. “It does?”

“High school Steve didn’t exactly scream trustworthy employer.”

The corner of her mouth twitched despite herself. “No. He really didn’t. Thankfully for you, Robin didn’t mention your name.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Figures."

She studied him thoughtfully.

“But,” she said, “high school Steve wouldn’t be doing this.”

Steve cleared his throat. “No. He wouldn't. Uh. I can drive you, if you want. Before it gets worse.”

She hesitated - genuinely tempted.

“I can’t,” she said. “My mom needs the car later. I told her I’d be back.”

“Right,” Steve nodded. “Ok. Just - take it slow, yeah?”

She smiled softly.

“I will. Thanks, Steve.”

She pulled on her coat, hood up, and headed into the rain.

Steve watched her go.

~~~~

The Squawk was on a reduced service. With only a handful of shows, it wasn’t uncommon for Steve to be the last one there - although he was usually with Robin.

He waited for the familiar static on the walkie, followed by Dustin’s voice.

“Holy shit, man, it’s really comin’ down!”

“Copy,” Mike piped up next. “Mom thought I’d drowned in the lake.”

“Are you idiots all home?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, yeah we’re back.” Lucas added. “And Max too.”

He left them to it, the sound of them bickering and talking over each other served as background noise while he moved around the building switching everything off.

“Heading out now. See you dipshits tomorrow.”

“Love you too, Steve!”

The rain was biblical, lashing down in sheets that bounced off his car.

He ran for the drivers side with his jacket over his head and whacked the heat up as soon as he got in.

He’d only made it five miles down the road.

He slowed instinctively when he saw the car pulled awkwardly onto the shoulder, hazard lights blinking weakly through the downpour. His grip tightened on the steering wheel before his brain caught up.

No.

He leaned forward, squinting through the windshield.

It was the same colour. With the same dent on the rear bumper.

“Shit,” he breathed.

He pulled over without thinking, his tyres crunching over the wet gravel. He couldn’t see her at all - just the car, half in the grass with rain bouncing off the roof.

Then she stood up from beside it.

She was drenched.

His first, stupid thought was that she must be freezing.

His second was that he needed to stop looking at her.

Her hair was plastered to her face and neck, rainwater streaming down the line of her jaw. Her thin jacket hung open uselessly, her top underneath was soaked through completely, clinging to her in a way that made Steve’s stomach flip.

He looked away quickly, down to his steering wheel while he took a breath.

Within seconds he was out of the car. He slammed the door shut behind him and jogged over.

“Hey,” he called, raising his voice over the rain. “Hey - are you ok? What happened?”

Relief flashed across her face, quickly replaced by embarrassment.

“Steve - I’m fine, I swear,” she said, brushing wet hair out of her eyes. “It just - the tyre -”

“Ok,” he cut in gently. “It’s ok. We’ll fix it.”

He crouched by the driver’s side front wheel, the rain soaked through his jeans in seconds.

“It’s flat-flat. Not just low.” She said, shivering. “I can’t get the wrench to move, it just keeps slipping in my hands.”

She stood closer, rain dripping steadily from the ends of her hair despite the hood on her jacket. “I tried loosening the nuts but -”

“Yeah, they’ll be stubborn,” he said, taking the wrench from her. “How long have you been here?”

Their fingers brushed.

Both of them stilled - just for a fraction of a second - before pretending it hadn’t happened.

“Uhh, probably thirty minutes. I'm not sure, long enough to be really, really cold,”

He didn’t look at her, he didn’t dare watch the droplets of rain as they ran down her neck and into the collar of her now-translucent top.

“Lefty loosey,” he reminded himself, putting his weight into it.

The wrench slipped again.

The sudden jerk launched him closer to her. Not quite touching, but close enough that Steve caught the shudder in her breath over the sound of the rain.

“Shit,” she muttered.

He looked over at his car, the engine still running. “I’ve got a jack, let’s get it up.”

When he returned, she was hugging her arms around herself to try and get warm.

He wanted to step in closer and wrap his arms around her instead, to block the rain and warm her up.

Instead, he stayed and positioned the jack. He worked quickly to raise the car up a few inches.

She took the wrench this time, her feet braced in the mud. She pushed down hard but the nut didn’t give.

“Try again,” he said.

She leaned into it again with teeth gritted.

Nothing budged.

She slumped back on her heels with a frustrated huff. “Of course.”

Steve exhaled slowly, wiping rain from his eyes. “Yeah.”

Her shoulders dropped.

“So… what now?”

He stood and tugged her jacket tighter around her shoulders without asking. He felt her pitch just slightly towards him before taking a fortifying breath and steeling herself again.

“Now,” he said gently, “I give you a ride.”

She hesitated - pride and independence crossing her face.

Thunder cracked overhead, close enough to make her flinch.

She nodded.

“Ok, let’s go.”

They packed up the wrench and jack, and she grabbed her bag from the front seat before hopping into his warm car.

“Ohhh, that’s so nice -” she breathed, her voice trembling.

He tried not to listen, to wonder whether he could make her voice waver like that. Her hands went up to the vents in front of her, warming them.

From the backseat, he grabbed a sweater and passed it to her.

She stared at it. Then at him.

“I don’t - I’m ok, really. I don’t want you -”

“You’re soaked. Please. I’ll even close my eyes.” he offered, doing just that.

She shrugged off her jacket and he could tell from the sharp inhale that she’d finally seen what he’d seen.

“- Shit,” she huffed quietly, pulling the sweater on over her see-through t-shirt.

Steve kept his eyes closed, and his jaw tight.

For a second, the rain seemed to get louder, thundering in his ears like his own pulse.

“You can open them now,” she said softly.

He did, carefully, and aimed for somewhere neutral. Somewhere safe.

Instead, his gaze betrayed him, catching on the path of a raindrop as it traced from beneath her hairline, down the curve of her neck, and disappeared into the collar of the sweater.

His mouth went dry.

He did not think about following it with his mouth.

He tried desperately to not think about the warmth of her skin under the wet cotton, or how easily his hands would fit at her waist, pulling her into his lap.

He only thought about the sweater.

It swallowed her, the sleeves covering her hands, and the wool bunching awkwardly at her hips. It was unmistakably his.

And seeing her wearing it was making everything so much worse. Or better. He still wasn't sure.

He forced himself to breath in and fixed his eyes on the sweater. Anything that wasn’t the very real awareness of her sitting beside him.

He wasn’t a saint.

He was just trying very hard to be a decent man.

The overhead light faded, and he eased out back onto the quiet road. He could feel her eyes on him.

She glanced at him again, then frowned slightly.

“You’re wet.”

Steve blinked. “Huh?”

She gestured, vaguely at the t-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders. He could feel his hair starting to curl into the nape of his neck. Water still dripped from his forearms as he turned the steering wheel, aiming for town.

“You. You’re… completely soaked.”

He shrugged, eyes still on the road. “Yeah. It’s raining.”

“You didn't have to stop,” she said quietly.

“Yeah I did. Besides, I’m not afraid of a little rain,” he teased, throwing her own words back at her.

She rolled her eyes but smiled all the same.

The sound of the window wipers filled the silence, a rapid beat he was sure he’d feel mirrored in her pulse if he were close enough.

He wanted to feel it thrumming against his lips and kiss every raindrop left on her skin.

He wanted to warm her with his hands on her thighs, her hips, in the small of her back.

The leather on the steering wheel squeaked in his tight grip.

“I'm probably ruining your car,” she said softly, like she was apologising for more than the water. “I'll get it valeted -”

“Don't… don't worry about the car. I'm just glad I found you when I did.”

She watched him carefully, he worked to keep his expression focused on the road.

“What happened?” She asked, barely above a whisper. “The kids… you - they have people… The Sinclair's are a lovely couple, Mrs Henderson, she's a little wacky, but she's a nice lady. Will and Mike both have older siblings, but you're like…”

“It's a long story.”

“I live the other side of town.”

He sighed. “I wasn’t there when I should’ve been.”

She waited for more, without pushing. The car slowed for a red light alongside the grocery store.

“Helping them feels like the least I can do,” he said at last. “If I stop paying attention, something bad happens.”

She stayed silent.

“I keep thinking if I’d been - if I’d just been faster, or smarter, or braver -”

“Steve.”

He shook his head. “Max almost died. Dustin lost someone. Lucas had to -” He cut himself off. “I wasn’t there.”

He could smell the rain on their clothes, the windows fogging from their breath.

“So you’re trying to make it right,” she concluded gently.

He didn’t answer.

Two months. That’s how long it had taken him to visit Max.

The boys had to drag him there on the pretence of picking Lucas up.

She wound down her window to clear the glass, letting the sound of heavy rain into the car.

He could barely hear her over the noise. “Does anyone ever take care of you?”

“They don't need to,” the smile tight and automatic.

The same one he gave Robin on the nights they took a beer up on the roof of the Squawk.

“Hmm. Left here, please.”

He turned into a residential street not far from Dustin’s and followed the road until she told him to stop.

They both looked out of the front windscreen at the rain making a stream back down the hill.

“I had a crush on you, once.” She said suddenly.

“You did? Why?”

She smiled faintly. “You were magnetic, it was impossible not to.”

He laughed quietly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “I was an idiot.”

“Yeah,” she agreed readily. “But you’re not that guy anymore.”

She reached for the door handle. “Max knows that. They all do.”

He swallowed thickly.

“And so do I.” She said hesitantly. “Goodnight, Steve. Thanks for the rescue.”

He finally got into the venue feeling a little stretched thin. He looked around and let out a pained sigh. He didn’t see Eddie or Elise anywhere. They were all seated together, but he couldn’t see them in the densely packed crowd.

The crowd parted and Steve let out a little gasp. There was Joyce Byers. She recently done a sequel to a Tim Burton movie and she was nominated tonight. She spotted him and made a beeline straight for him.

Steve frozen where he was. Someone as famous as Joyce Byers knew who he was. This was more terrifying than any audition ever.

“Steve Harrington,” she asked, cocking her head to the side. “Right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he managed to croak out. “I don’t think there is a person in this room who doesn’t know who you are.”

She blushed and waved her hand at him. “Flatterer!”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, that’s not hyperbole or an exaggeration and you know it.”

Joyce’s smile went from shy to sly. “So all the rumors that you’re just a dumb bunny aren’t true, noted.”

“My parents have tried a lot of things to sully my name,” Steve said with a shrug. “That one was the one that stuck.”

Her face and shoulders fell. “I did hear about that, honey. I’m so sorry about how you were treated. I’m glad you were able to overcome all that and still act. I’m not sure I would have had that been me.”

He smiled at her. “All thanks to Robin Buckley and her parents. Owe them so much.”

“Richard was such a charmer back in the day,” Joyce said wistfully. “And Robin definitely gets that from him.”

“And she knows it,” Steve said with a grin.

“I just want to congratulate on that absolutely sublime of a film you did with her,” she said with bright smile, putting her hand on his forearm. “If they have any sense in their head, all three of you will win tonight.”

“Thank you for that,” Steve said, positively beaming. “We all know that there is very little sense in Hollywood. It’s practically embedded in its DNA.”

Joyce laughed. “That certainly true. But there was another reason I came over. Are you familiar with the film critic, Nancy Wheeler?”

He frowned. “A bit. She was the one who broke the story of my being caught in the back of a limo with a producer back in the day. I don’t have very fond feelings toward her for that. Even if she thought she was doing her job.”

She nodded grimly. “She’s friends with my Jonathan and I happened to overhear an argument they were having over her next article for Variety.”

“Uh oh,” Steve said darkly. “That can’t be good.”

“No,” Joyce said with a grimace. “She’s writing a piece about how only people of LBGTQ+ people should play those roles and that in this day and age actors don’t have the ‘problems’ getting non-gay roles these days, therefore they should just come out.”

Steve let out a pained sigh. “Going after Eddie for not being gay and going after me for playing to ‘type’ in the same breath. That is some extra kind of fuckery.”

“Agreed,” she murmured. “I was looking for Eddie to tell him, but I spotted you first. Jon was really upset about it, especially since I’m currently dating Jim.”

“So he was looking out for his mom’s boyfriend,” Steve surmised. “Because that kind of backlash would absolutely blow back on the movie itself.” She nodded. “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll pass it along and let my agent know we’ll need to get out ahead of this.”

“Of course,” Joyce murmured. “I’ve told Jim and if you tell Eddie then we can all avoid this unpleasantness.”

Steve thanked her and then set off for where his seat was supposed to be, and thankfully Robin and Eddie were already there.

He gave each of them a hug as a greeting but when he hugged Eddie, he whispered, “There’s something I need to talk to you about of the ceremony.”

Eddie just nodded and they all sat down for the award show, Steve sitting between the two of them.

The lights dimmed and the comedian hired to host immediately started in on the jokes. Making everyone they could vaguely uncomfortable and being asinine.

Steve grimaced through the butt jokes about a couple of queer movies including their own. He really hated those kind of jokes because there were plenty of people on both sides of the aisle that enjoyed it and making it a joke only served to further stigmatize it from someone who might actually enjoy it from trying it.

First up was Steve for Best Supporting Actor in a Motion Picture.

“And the winner is...” said the rail thin blonde who looked only vaguely familiar. “Steve Harrington- ‘Dancing in the Dark’!”

Eddie and Robin were pounding on his back and congratulating him. He went up to stage and took the award from her.

“Wow,” he breathed. “There are a lot of awards worth having, but I think the greatest one you can get is when your own peers see the work you do as worthy. So thank you. Also thank you to my best friend and best director an actor could ever dream of, Robin Buckley, my co-star Eddie Munson, you make my work better just being who you are, Richard Buckley for giving me the chance, and to all the cast and crew who all came out of this movie with a hatred of Karo syrup and red dye.” He raised the award and then repeated, “Thank you!”

There was thunderous applause and he was carefully lead away as someone slipped into his empty seat.

He was brought back stage and the award was whisked away and he was given a heavier actual award that he was told to get engraved later. Then he was shoved in front of cameras and interviewers as they shouted questions at him.

“What do you say to rumors that you are dating your co-star, Eddie Munson?” was the first shouted question.

Steve burst out laughing. “God, if you believed every rumor about Eddie’s dating life, he’ll have had seventeen boyfriends and forty-two girlfriends in the last three years alone. Give it up, guys. He’s never going to come out and tell you who he’s dating and frankly, you won’t hear it from me either.”

“That’s not a no,” the interviewer said wagging their eyebrows.

“It’s a ‘none of your business’,” Steve insisted.

“Steve!” another interview called. “What’s next for you?”

Steve looked over and smiled. It was Veronica Stiles. The interviewer who had threatened to eviscerate anyone who asked him the hair question again.

“I’ve got a busy and packed schedule coming up,” he said with a smile. “I just wrapped up ‘Black, No Sugar’ with Jim Hopper and I’m on my way to play video game heartthrob and swashbuckler Billy the Blackheart. Then if all goes well you might be seeing me in tight spandex soon.”

“Oooh...” Veronica cooed. “Any hints on who it might be? Like DC or Marvel?”

Steve just smiled and shook his head. “My lips are sealed.”

There were a few more questions and then he was allowed to finally go back to his seat, award in hand.

Eddie shook his shoulder in excitement and grinned back at him.

There were a few more awards and then it was time for Best Leading Actor in Motion Picture. Steve reached out and took Eddie’s hand. Win or lose, Steve would still be proud of Eddie’s work on the film.

“And the winner goes to...” the presenter said, tugging at the envelope. “Gosh, they sure do seal these things tight.”

Eddie’s knee started jumping up and down from the sheer amount of suspense.

“And the winner goes to, Billy Hargrove- ‘Light of an Alaskan Dawn’!” she screamed.

There was a bunch of clapping and Eddie looked up at the camera as it passed over him, his disappointment evident on his face. Billy’s movie was pure awards bait and everyone knew it. It was an one-man epic about a man struggling with depression during the six months of no light in Alaska and how like the sun, he eventually came back around.

Steve leaned over and whispered something in Eddie’s ear that made him burst out laughing just as Billy passed them.

Billy shot the two of them a dirty look, but wisely said nothing as he got up to give his acceptance speech. He spoke about how meaningful the movie was and how grateful he was for the opportunity.

Steve wanted to gag, it was all too much. And likely too fake, too.

The music began as Billy waffled through his speech, so he raised his award and then was led off stage.

Robin gave them a strange look, but continued the rest of the show ignoring them.

She cornered them both and demanded to know what Steve said to Eddie that made him burst out laughing.

Steve shook his head. “I’ll tell you after I tell you what Joyce Byers told me before the show, because wooboy are we going to need something light to brighten the mood.” And then he explained her warnings.

“Did you hurt Nancy Wheeler in a former life or something?” Eddie asked with a scoff. “Dated her brother? Something, anything.”

Steve actually grimaced. “Not her brother, no. But our parents were friends and they set us up, I think her parents thought that dating a movie star would get her into places she wouldn’t have otherwise. Then when she cheated on me with...” he let out a pained sigh.

“Jonathan Byers,” Robin finished for him. “Though in Jon’s defense, she told him they had broken up when they had sex. They even dated for awhile before Jon found out about the cheating.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie hissed. “I would have dumped her too. My uncle always said never date a cheater because how they got you is how they’ll get the next one.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, that what he said his mom said, too. Then of course Jon leaving her was my fault so she stalked me for awhile to try prove that it wasn’t her fault she cheated.”

“Oof,” Eddie muttered shaking his head. “So what, is she anti-LQBTQ now?”

Robin snorted. “That would hypocritical of her considering she’s got her own girlfriend, but it’s more that she’s gone down the leftist rabbit hole of only disabled people should play disabled people, trans people should play trans, gay should play gay... etc.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “It’s dickheads like her that made that one British actor come out as bi after playing a bi teenager. Like the kid was barely seventeen at the time but he was forced to come out just to stop the harassment.”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a nod, “and I think she’s smelling blood in the water.”

“Fuck!” Eddie said softly. “She’s not after you, she after me.”

Robin pursed her lips. “I’ll lunch with Bob, Chrissy, and Jim and see if we can’t form a unified statement.”

Eddie and Steve nodded.

“So what was it that you told Eddie that made such a scene?” she asked pulling her phone out of her purse.

Eddie and Steve shared a glance and then Steve said, “That he must have slept his way through the SAG-AFTRA voters.”

Robin blinked at them for a moment before nodding solemnly. “That tracks. The media likes to portray Stevie here as a slut, but I don’t think Billy’s gone to an event with the same woman twice.”

Steve grinned, feral. “They only do that because I’m gay and Billy’s straight. Trust me if the shoe was on the other foot, they would absolutely be painting Billy with the same brush.”

“True,” Eddie said. “At least a made a disappointing moment more fun.”

“Don’t worry, darlings,” Robin said, putting her phone away and then draping her arms over each of them. “There is always the Oscars!”

~

Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

Tag List: ONE TAG SLOT REMAINING

1- @after-the-end-times @lost-andstill-lost @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @kroymu09

2- @yikes-a-bee @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadisticaltarts @gloomysoup @carlyv

3- @wonderland-girl143-blog @kultiras @val-from-lawrence @dolphincliffs @dragon-on-main

4- @bookworm0690 @emeraldzephyr @dreamercec @awkwardgravity1 @saint-of-roses

5- @stedestielfrattficlover @ellietheasexylibrarian @useless-nb-bisexual @rina777 @ollieolive

6- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @steddieislife @samsoble @beckkthewreck

7- @mentallyundone @beelze-the-bubkiss @mensch-anthropos-human @stripey82 @dyke-jpg

8- @blisschaoss @blackpanzy @micheledawn1975 @yesthisiszuzu @maya-custodios-dionach

9- @hold-your-invisible-horses @space-goblin-king @xjessicafaithx @tinaa-aas @spongelll

At first he had thought pinks would be prettier to you but then as he had passed the pretty orange and yellow rose bouquet it had reminded him of your always sunny disposition and he knew that he had to buy that one for you. But as he had walked back to the dorms where you would be meeting up with him for your date before heading out he had begun to second guess himself. Would you truly like the different colored bouquet? He had begun to sweat about his decision and even when he had returned to his dorm where Felix waited for him he had complained and worried to Felix that he wasn’t 100% sure of his decision. Felix had tried his best to reassure him but Seungmin had still been a nervous wreck that you wouldn’t like the flowers.

“Oh Seungmin! They’re gorgeous!” you gasped at him as you cradled the bouquet gently in your hands as you stared down at them. Seungmin grinned proudly before ducking his head in slight embarrassment.

“I picked these because they remind me of how happy, bright and sunny you always are.” he said quietly to you and chuckled softly as you began squealing softly again. When you lunged at him and wrapped him in a tight hug Seungmin sighed softly as he grinned.

“That makes them even more special!” you gasp softly and he can’t help but laugh at your excitement and words. “You know this is the first time someone has ever bought me flowers?” you say softly and Seungmin jerks at that piece of information, had no one ever bought you flowers before? “For my first bouquet these are perfect.” you sigh wistfully and Seungmin feels his chest puff up with pride at your soft sweet reaction. “Thank you so much, you’re so sweet and wonderful.” you tell him before pressing a kiss to his cheek which makes his brain fog up in a daze. “Felix! Do you have a vase that I can borrow for a little bit? I want to put these in water so they don’t wilt before I can bring them home.” you call out to Seungmin’s best friend as you walk into their kitchen.

“Yeah, of course yeobo. Let me get it for you.” Felix responds as he walks into the kitchen while Seungmin stays rooted to the spot still dazed after your sweet chaste kiss. “Is he okay?” Felix asks as he stands next to you in the kitchen helping you place the flowers in the water filled vase. You snap a couple of pretty pictures of the bouquet on your cell phone before sending the pictures to the group chat that you have with the boys. You look up and chuckle softly as you spot Seungmin still standing in the spot you left him in when you kissed him.