lexi

“A waste?” It’s not like you ever even wanted to have sex with someone before. Your jaw sets now, eyes shutting for a moment, another tear traitorous in its escape. “Not all of us love to whore around.”

“Whore around huh,” he crosses his arms now, watching your eyes flicker open. “Admit it.”

“Admit what!?”

“That you’d do anything if I asked,” you swallow down the pain, biting down on your lower lip as his voice drops an octave, a mean caress that sends shivers down your spine. “If you asked pretty enough maybe I’d let you suck me at least.”

Your pause earns his smirk.

“Holy fuck, you would? Hmm,” his cruel gaze gets darker, snowy lashes flickering just a bit. “I guess I’d consider that, but I wouldn’t touch you.”

“I don’t want to,” you finally breathe out. “I wouldn’t… do that with someone who hates me, who doesn’t even want me to exist.” Satoru blinks a bit when you slip your bag higher on your shoulder. “I’m glad that you didn’t.”

It’s utterly quiet.

“Please move.”

He steps aside and you pass by his dumb fucking secretary sitting right at the chair you do, her blouse unbuttoned, just smiling at you, the anger rising like bile in your throat. You’re humiliated again, and you almost said you would – you’d do damn near anything if the man you’d been infatuated with – promised to at that, gave you a tiny bit of attention.

It was all a game to him.

“Have fun boxing,” she has the audacity to say, laughing just a bit at you in the fucking place you live in, in the chair you cry in. You feel so much rage it doesn’t even feel like you – it’s like it belongs to someone else. “Your gloves are so cute!”

“Jennifer,” ah, that’s her fucking name, coming from Satoru’s lips. “Come over here.”

She hops up obediently and you turn to gaze at Satoru by his bedroom door, eyes unreadable, smirk off his face, you don’t even want to know what’s in his mind, even if it’s something half way decent for you. You don’t want to live like this, to have someone so blatantly disregarding your feelings.

“Could you all please keep it in the room?” You ask then, she giggles and Satoru raises a brow. “I live here too, for now.”

“You think the maids wouldn’t clean up all the cum from every surface?” you can’t believe him at that moment. “But yes, we can while you’re still in my home.”

His home.

He makes it dead ass fucking clear, as if you didn’t already know he hates you here, that none of this is going to last because he can’t wait to fucking have you out. You shut your eyes for a moment, hands pressing into the wood of the door before you rush out of the opulent, ostentatious home.

It was once a dream, to drive by Gojo’s home and imagine yourself as his wife, so enamored with the man you thought he was and the kindness you remembered as a child that it felt like a dream come true. Yet it was anything but that, it was all just a cruel joke, much like your life.

Satoru was right on one thing, you did everything to live up to your parents expectations, and that included remaining ‘pure’. If they even knew that you were headed in your car to go boxing of all places and things to do, they’d likely be appalled at you.

Ladies don’t do that – Satoru’s wife doesn’t do that.

Just the small thing for yourself makes you smile a bit, hands gripping the wheel tightly, you swear you see Satoru’s curtain flutter, who knows maybe he’s got her pressed up on the window, pleasuring her and making sure the world knows how he wants anyone but you.

It shouldn’t hurt this bad, you were trained to be the perfect wife even if Gojo did cheat, and you could handle it, as taught.

Yet he didn’t even touch you, his words echoing in your ears and making you so ill you almost throw up remembering. Proving his point – you had so desperately been eager to sink to your knees right for him, if he’d just look at you with anything other than hatred, if he’d brush your hair back and give that look he had when he was with other women.

You can’t be everything your parents want if he divorces you anyway, it’ll bring so much shame on your family and there’s nothing you can do to salvage it, so you have to try to find who you are. You don’t even know – it’s so sad, if someone asked you what you liked you wouldn’t know what to say.

Who are you?

The thoughts keep coming as you sit in front of the boxing gym, so nervous now, not to do something new completely.

Sukuna makes you nervous.

You’ve not felt whatever it was when those ruby eyes hit you, whatever that gaze was on his handsome face. You’ve been hit on plenty, you’ve had boys have crushes on you, yet you had to remain ‘all intact’ and ‘proper’ so you never explored that. Even so, Sukuna looked at you differently, and it felt like a physical touch.

Satoru, it felt like an assessment – Sukuna, it felt like appreciation.

He saw things in you that you’re not sure are there from one meeting – that you weren’t eating, that you’re a mess, things you keep so hidden from even yourself, the perception terrified you. You don’t know what to think about it, how to interpret it, maybe you’re over thinking it too.

The dream last night didn’t help, him kissing up your throat, hand gripping your hair at the nape of your neck. To get him involved in any capacity was dangerous for your family’s reputation, and you’re ‘married’ so surely he wouldn’t want that. Yet those images make you blush.

Even as you walk in now and see a boy standing next to him that looks almost identical, just a shorter, younger version, you smile nervously and wave.

You feel Sukuna’s gaze assessing you, and just that alone is more than Satoru has given you in your marriage. The way he looks at you makes you feel…

Good… Was good the word?

Nervous, apprehensive, tummy fluttering. You swallow nervously, trying not to overthink it – You’re here to get stress out, and maybe to learn who you were, to find an existence away from being ‘Satoru’s wife’.

******

Sukuna

"Sukuna seriously," his annoying little nephew Yuuji is up at the gym with him today. The kid has a hell of a right hook and a hell of an annoying way about him.

Sukuna couldn't help but let him stay with him when he also wanted to get away from all the pressure that came with their family. But now the kid stays over far too much, bringing his friends over and soon dragging them all to the gym too. Sukuna has a bunch of teenagers constantly annoying the shit out of him.

Yet he can't complain, it's good for the business, and it keeps Yuuji and the other kids out of trouble. Yuuji is only eighteen after all, Sukuna is twenty-four – thus the 'mentor'.

Hah, what a mentor he must be.

"She's married!?" Sukuna glares now at the blurted out fucking statement, and Yuuji quickly hushes. "I mean... I know you're all ‘anti the family’ this and that but really?"

"Will you shut your trap kid," Yuuji glares right up at Sukuna, he's damn near a smaller version of his cousin, just with brown eyes instead of red. "I haven't done anything, she's just..."

You walk in then, as if on cue, holding your hands together in front of you nervously, some cute pink pair of boxing gloves that are ridiculous, pink duffel bag slung over one of your shoulders. He can't help but smirk a bit at how… cute, you’re fucking cute. Shy and adorable.

Yuuji eyes you as well, then him, curiously.

"Shit," Yuuji never cusses, so Sukuna raises a brow at him, seeing him run a hand through identical pastel locks. "That's her?"

"Don't say shit in front of her, if you do I'll make sure not to take you to Cabo this summer," Sukuna threatens, but Yuuji frowns, looking intently as you come closer. "Get it out now. Your moral high ground on my thoughts."

"She is very pretty," he murmurs, frowning. "And she does look... she looks so sad."

Sukuna pauses then. You give your best effort with a tremulous little smile, walking up to both of them, taking a breath and holding a hand out to Yuuji.

A forced smile, but it’s as pretty as you. What’s a real one look like?

"Hey there!" You say, Yuuji takes your hand in his, smiling sweetly at you.

"Hey there, welcome to the gym," He's friendly, sweet even. "We have lockers over there if you need!"

"Perfect I'll be right back," your eyes catch Sukuna's and his breath falters. He's never felt anything like wanting to fuck the sadness right out of your body. He knows it's already obsession, already fucking ridiculous. It doesn't stop him. "Sukuna, it's good to see you again."

"You're late," he teases gruffly, you sigh and glare a bit all cute, a look he didn't think he'd see, it does something to him. "Just a few minutes though. Go get ready."

You rush off and Yuuji puts a hand on his chest over his dark blue hoodie, wincing a bit. "Her pain, like I feel it?"

"Yeah," Sukuna mutters, the kid has always been... fuck, what's the word? Empath or some shit. "I know."

"Just... be careful Sukuna. You don't know who she's with."

"I'm not afraid of anyone, have you seen me?" Yuuji rolls his eyes.

"Yeah I saw you, and you couldn't even stop the drool from coming out of your mouth." Sukuna scowls, fists clenched at his sides, one step making Yuuji back up. "I've um... gotta go!"

"Nice to meet you!" You wave at Yuuji as you come out, in a little sports bra and shorts, as if to fucking torture him. Yuuji waves and smiles sweetly at you, leaving Sukuna alone with you in the quiet of the gym. "He looks just like you! Your little brother?"

"Annoying nephew," you laugh a little, the sound doing something to him again, fuck he doesn’t know what it is. Yuuji is right, he has to be careful, to try to hold back.

But holding back really isn't Sukuna's thing.

"So," he draws on the words, seeing how you hug yourself a bit around your waist, as if you're nervous to have it bare.

It takes a lot of effort not to just touch your body, make you feel as pretty as you are, see how those eyes could light up if you came all over his mouth, if he drank you. He knows he can't say that shit, so he instead teases you, tugging at the little ponytail you're wearing.

"Tell me where you got these dumb gloves, and you better tell me you've fucking eaten something too."

“They’re so cute, excuse me!” You cover your mouth then, eyes lowering. “Sorry that came out so rude-”

“I like it, see if there’s something feisty underneath all this,” he gestures to all of you then. “Perfect little girl, time to mess you up. Get you all sweaty and wrecked.”

He watches a blush dance on your cheeks underneath the bright lights overhead, you shift just a bit, nodding. “I want to see if there is, too.”

“You don’t know?” He asks, and you sigh, blinking back tears again.

Fuck what’s happened to you to make you constantly on the verge of them? Sukuna wasn’t some ‘mr fix it’ especially when it came to women. He liked things simple, fun, unattached, never has he been so obsessed with what’s going on in a mind like he is yours.

Be careful. Could he be?

“I want to learn who I am, I know I’m like twenty four and don’t know,” you shake your head a bit and sigh. “Quarter life crisis?”

He snorts at that. “You make jokes?”

“I don’t know,” you answer softly. “I’m trying?”

“Meh it wasn’t that funny,” he shoves playfully but you’re so damn weak you stumble, he grabs you quickly, holding you too closely. “You said you ate.”

“I did, I swear, just still feeling it I think?” Your hand rests on one of his biceps, he sees that blush up close, spreading down your neck. “I really ate dinner and breakfast!”

“Can’t box if you’re falling over and shit,” he sighs, his hands still on your waist, shaking his head a bit. “I’ll show you some basics, you just pay attention for now. I’m grabbing you a protein bar.”

“I’m okay!” Sukuna ignores you, coming back with a bar and shoving it unceremoniously in your hand. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck, your eyes are too pretty looking up at him like that, and he needs to make you comfortable. Not do every filthy thing he keeps thinking of – fuck that sadness right out of you. How can he fucking think that? “Come with me, and you better finish it.”

“You’re bossy,” you tease, he snorts and rolls his eyes, feeling the warmth of your skin with your close proximity. “It’s good!”

“Hmm, you’re just starving, those suck,” you sigh, chewing thoughtfully, when he shows you to the training area. “You need some muscle so I suggest doing some light weights first, then next time maybe I’ll let you hit a bag.”

“Got it,” you murmur, mouth just a little full, the wrapper crinkles a bit as you down it. “Maybe I was hungry? I’ve not had an appetite.”

“Yeah, sounds like…” He trails off now. “You have stress at home.”

You laugh a little without humor. “You could say that.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightens just a bit, feeling his teeth press together in irritation at the thought of whatever has you like this. Yet in just a good twenty minutes you relax your shoulders just a bit, you smile a little more real and not forced, he watches as you ease just a bit with every movement.

“These are tiny weights, I can do more,” you pout as he puts ten on each arm. Sukuna shakes his head. “I can!”

“Yeah champ okay,” he grabs twenties and watches your arms drop down, stabilizing you and smirking. “You’re a regular Arnold.”

“Oh hush!” He takes them and tugs and your pony tail again, you dab just a little sweat off your brow.

“You are bratty, see?”

“I am so not,” you get a little quiet at his hands on your wrists then, clearing your throat and looking down so shy and cute.

Sukuna would just corrupt you.

You’re clearly an innocent little thing and his thoughts are about as far from that as they could be, it’s hard to pull back and act casual – as if this is normal and he just grips on his clients’ fucking biceps. You’re so fragile then as he studies you for a heartbeat too long, you don’t move away, just staring up at him. Your pupils dilate and make your eyes too damn pretty.

“You good?” He manages to ask, rubbing the back of his neck, annoyed by whatever the fuck effect this is.

“I am, thank you Sukuna,” if your lips would stop moving like that, if your voice would stop sounding that way, maybe he would be all right and not throbbing just inhaling your scent. “You’re very sweet.”

“Me? Tch, m’not sweet,” he rolls his eyes as you giggle again, turning away so you don’t see the dopey grin on his face before he gets rid of it, turning back and raising a brow. “I’ll show you some movements and you can come hit the bag tomorrow.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sukuna wraps his knuckles as you look around a bit. “You are seeing me after the gym closes, you don’t have to.”

“I usually stay after anyway,” he just wants to fucking be alone with you. “Not a problem.”

“I’ll come a little earlier tomorrow, if that’s okay?” Your brows draw together.

“I don’t care, whenever, come hold this for me. I won’t accidentally punch you, don't worry.”

“I didn’t think so,” you go over and hold it, gasping when you feel the impact, looking at him curiously. “You think I’ll really be able to hit this thing?”

“Mmhmm, of course you will,” he takes it easy, even if you’re behind the bag he doesn’t want to scare you. He typically doesn’t have girls in the gym.

He shows you a few of the basics, and you study him carefully, he doesn’t realize he’s getting distracted until he stops punching and focuses on you, you’re watching him intently, your eyes flickering down his body, then to his lips before shooting back up to his eyes quickly.

Sukuna smirks a bit at you, walking around the bag to stand in front of you. “What is it?”

“N-nothing,” you squeak out, lashes trembling. “You look – I mean you are very good.”

He snorts at that, you’re too fucking cute. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He leans against the bag now, stepping closer and looking down at you “You’re were staring.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper, eyes lowering. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be, I don’t mind,” he murmurs back, his eyes lowering to your lips, watching them part just slightly. He leans in a fraction, your breath catches – he hears it, a sharp little inhale. “I’m just teasin’ ya, okay?”

Sukuna’s voice is soft to his own ears, he almost feels the need to be gentle when it comes to you, you’re so delicate and afraid. You nod and wring your hands a little bit in front of your lap. “I couldn’t help it.”

“I look that good?” He’s chuckling as you cover your face all cute. “It’s okay, I already know I do.”

“You’re teasing me!” He eases your hands down, sighing at the contrast of his huge hands around your wrists.

“Yeah, I was, don’t take me serious, yeah?” You nod and just stand there, when he drops his hands and clears his throat. “Finish up, then I’ll walk you out.”

You just stand there for a moment, breathing softly as he watches you bite your lip now, staring at him nervously. He wonders what you’d do if he just kissed you? He wonders how you’d taste, if you’d melt into him, if he could kiss you on every inch of your body.

He can’t be this way.

“Okay,” you whisper, turning away to grab your stuff quickly. He walks you out silently to the back exit, the cool air whipping your hair around – this time of year, it was chilly and dark early. “Time went quick.”

“Yeah,” he looks at you carefully then. “What had you almost in tears this morning, or can you not tell me?”

You tug your bag closer, sighing. “The other woman was just… in my fridge and on my couch and it threw me off.”

“Other woman?” You nod. “In your house?”

“Yeah, I could handle it if maybe he could keep it to his room,” Sukuna’s brows raise now and you hesitate. “It had me upset more than usual.”

“You just… are okay with it?” You look down at his lips once more, if you don’t stop doing that he’s gonna lose his tentative control. “Why?”

“It’s arranged, that sounds archaic–”

“Nah,” Sukuna sighs now. “Let me guess, rich family?”

“Yeah, are you?” He smirks. “The name sounded familiar? I don’t know how I didn’t put it together.”

“Yep,” he drags out that word with a pop of his lips. “I’m from that shitty ass line of family, I just decided to tell them all to fuck off. You should try it, it’s fun.”

“Saying ‘fuck off’ huh?” You giggle again, shaking your head as he smirks down at you. “That’s impressive to not bow under pressure.”

“I just wasn’t one for rules, decorum, I just don’t give a shit,” he shrugs a broad shoulder. “Arranged shit was in my parents’ plans but in that I also told them to fuck off. But that’s enough therapy.” He flicks your forehead, you rub it and glare.

“Ah, stay all mysterious,” you tease just a bit, hesitating and then turning. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Mhmm,” you turn to look at him one more time, suddenly stepping forward and tip-toeing, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Fuck.

You should not do that.

“Thank you again,” you murmur shyly, stepping back quickly and rushing to your car like you’re embarrassed by the little action.

Sukuna jerks off that night to a kiss on the cheek from a shy, sweet little woman who is married, and wishes he felt worse about imagining decorating you in ropes of cum, but he really doesn’t. Moreso he’s irritated you’ve made him so pathetic in the span of a couple days.

He was fucked.

*****

You

You’re wolfing down eggs and bacon when Satoru walks out the next morning, eyeing you curiously at the array of food on the counter. You should tell him to fuck off really, just like Sukuna said you should tell everyone but some part of you would like to not hate Satoru Gojo, some part would like some sort of peace or even an understanding, for him to stop his cruelty to some extent.

So you smile, and he pauses, shirtless and just in his boxers, but your smile freezes on your face when you observe the dark hickies littering him right over his pelvis. It’s his turn to smirk as he walks closer to you, putting a coffee pod in casually, as if it’s normal to have hickies on your v cuts by your happy trail.

Why are you hurt, you knew he was with her?

“Good morning,” you manage to try to be cordial. “I made a big breakfast if you’re hungry.”

“You know I have cooks,” he says, nibbling a muffin then moaning, his snowy lashes fluttering shut. “Oh fuck.”

“I like to bake,” you say with a little shrug, he pauses as he watches you nibble your own. “It gives me something to do. I think I may… get a job or something.”

“Why, you have enough money you never need to even without me.” 

“Why, to give me… something?” You say, shrugging a bit. “I’ve never been able to work other than at charity functions, so I guess my resume would be kind of shitty though.”

“You don’t need to work while you’re here, it would just look bad,” you blink again. “Maybe work with me but…”

“Yeah, no,” he chuckles, as if it’s funny. “Bad enough the secretary is over at my… your house, now.” You correct yourself, tension between you both rising as you stand in the kitchen, his eyes sweep over you.

“Going to box again?”

“I am,” you’re wearing a sweater over your top this time, hanging just a bit off your shoulder, his gaze drifts down to it. “I think I like it.”

“Ah,” he steps closer, leaning down. “You ever figure out how to touch yourself?”

“If I did I wouldn’t do it thinking of you,” he glares and you smile now. “You’d be the last guy in my mind.”

“Sure, sweetheart, keep tellin’ yourself that, I see how you look at me,” you scoff, tensing when he brushes his fingers on your shoulder. “I can tell by every reaction you want me.”

You smack his hand off and he smirks. “You told me we’d never do anything, be anything, so stop trying.”

“Ah, you gave up on your little goal? Don’t wanna leave better marks on me than Jennifer?”

You feel sick.

“You know what, Gojo?” He raises a brow. “You’re not just mean, not just cruel, you’re sadistic, like you don’t just want me gone, you want to torture me.”

It’s quiet now, you blink back tears of frustration, of pain, feeling your heart pound in your chest.

“I said I’ll not try again, and I mean it,” you look away. “Whether I want you or not, I never will.”

He continues his silence, when your gaze meets his it’s softer, blue eyes unreadable, as if there’s a hint of humanity in him. What a joke, what a delusion to think he’d have even the most basic empathy for you.

“I didn’t do anything to deserve how you act,” your whisper breaks in the middle, traitorous tears leaking. “All I did was try. Now I give up, you get what you want.”

Satoru’s fists clench at the sides, taking a breath now. “You’ll thank me.”

“I’ll what!?”

“You’ll thank me,” he murmurs again, slipping your sweater up over your shoulder, fingertips brushing. “For not letting you be with me, for letting you have your own choice.”

“Acting like you’re being such a great fucking guy,” you never cuss but it spills out, when out of frustration you shove at his chest, not like he’ll move, glaring up into his eyes. “Mr. ‘hold on let me cum’ really? There’s no world where I’ll thank you for what you’ve put me through these past few weeks.”

You rush out past him and hear him murmur your name, you ignore it completely, gathering your things and rushing out, tears swimming even as you drive over to the gym. How can Satoru continue to hurt you like this and then have the audacity to act like he’s being kind!?

You barely get yourself together, peering in the mirror to fix yourself up, dabbing concealer to hide your sleepless night. It was hard to sleep when your husband was loudly moaning across the house, and when you kept thinking about Sukuna and the little kiss on his cheek.

Was it too far? Would it be weird?

Why do you want his lips so bad? Sure, he’s handsome, but the pull is more than that, as if you know he’d be able to kiss you the way you always dreamt – as much as you’re trying to hold back, it’s there. The feeling when you step into the busy gym, seeing Sukuna training in the ring with his nephew, he tackles him down and laughs so loud it echoes off the walls.

“Hey! Off me!” Yuuji shoves at him, but he’s way bigger, you blush as you think just how huge Sukuna is, he’s even taller than Satoru and you thought that pretty impossible. “You cheated!”

“Didn’t cheat, kid, you just weren’t paying attention,” his gaze hits you then, and he falters, only to get slammed down by Yuuji quickly.

“Hah! Got you,” Sukuna smacks his hand away as he grins, he’s literally adorable, the sunshine to Sukuna’s grumpy nature. Your heart tugs just a bit with affection at the sight, when Yuuji sees you and waves. “Hey, did you see me stomp his ass?”

“I did,” Sukuna snorts and stands on his own, brushing off his gym shorts, leaning a bit against the ropes and taking you in. “Hey Sukuna.”

“You’re actually on time,” he peeks at his watch. “Early.”

“Breakfast too,” you grin and he chuckles, suddenly it’s like that gym is just white noise and it’s all him, hopping over the ropes and down the platform, the sounds of sneakers squeaking on hardwood and punches drowned by your beating heart. He comes to stand and cross his arms, ruby eyes assessing you. “Protein, it was all protein filled.”

“Good,” he ruffles your hair like you’re Yuuji, you huff a bit, but part of how touch starved you are? You want him to keep patting your head, almost leaning into the quick little touch.

What’s wrong with you?

He’s friendly, kinder than you are used to – your own parents were not much better than Satoru, yet their cruelty was more in dismissing you, in the strict nature they raised you, the coldness. You grew up privileged and know you shouldn’t feel sorry for yourself, but the pain was there, only having been made better by the dream of Satoru taking you far away.

Some dream, a cinderella tale, you’re not sure what the fuck you were thinking, were you enamored with his pretty eyes, his kindness? With Sukuna you had those butterflies like you did that night Satoru unzipped your dress, but it was without that sinking feeling in your stomach.

The next couple days you spend at the gym – sometimes watching him, sometimes training a bit, the people there are all so friendly it feels nice. You find yourself there longer than usual, a little stronger, you keep waiting for Sukuna to let you spar or something cool, but he eases you into a few different things.

You enjoy him so much you find yourself staying after and wiping down equipment, seeing him raise a brow and laugh at you, telling you to go. But what’s waiting at home? Satoru and whoever he decides to bring home for the evening? It’s not just the secretary, you wish that it was only her in fact, she at least pretended to be a little nice to you.

You’re not sure if Satoru even works or if he just gets his dick wet.

You pass him in the morning and see one of them knocked out in his bed with the door cracked open, and that’s when you feel a deeper pain, eyeing him sleeping next to her. They’re not cuddling, but she’s sleeping in his bed. Alone in the room that was made for the two of you, staring up at the ceiling and touching your lips, thinking of kissing Sukuna then.

You can’t.

You shouldn’t.

Two wrongs don’t make a right, but something about that sends you over the edge – pushes you to where you don’t feel so terrible thinking of what you want to do. It’s just a step further even for him, your interactions get even shorter, he doesn’t taunt you as much since you got upset in that kitchen, but now it’s like living in a home where you’re unwanted.

You can’t wait to leave, for whatever he needs to figure out to cause the least scandal, you’re tired of smiling on his arm for the get togethers, only to sit on opposite sides of the backseat of that limo in the quiet. You’re lonely until you go to that gym, but you know it’s nonsense, Sukuna has not tried to kiss you or cross that line, even when his touches linger.

He’s a good man, a good uncle clearly, maybe a good friend – and all you can think half the time is those tattooed hands touching you longer, in places you know you shouldn’t want them. Trailing your hands up his biceps and feeling the strength in them, falling into his kisses until you’re dizzy.

It’s hard not to think of it when you watch his body move.

He’s shirtless today as if to distract you more, the way he’s built is enough to make you miss your punch, earning his chuckle, teasing glint in his ruby eyes. “Distracted?”

“No,” you’re such a liar. This morning threw you off seeing that girl in his damn bed, and now you can’t stop staring at your trainer’s body. “Just a bit.”

“What’s on that mind of yours?” Everyone has left for the day, you and him are all alone in the enormous gym, your pink gloves on your hands.

“A lot,” you murmur, punching the bag again and again, remembering to cross as he showed you, then wincing a bit as your wrist twists. “Ouch!”

“Bad angle, lemme see,” he carefully slips it off, thumb brushing your inner wrist, you suck in a breath. “I think you just kinked it a bit. Does it hurt to move?”

You shake your head, but you don’t move your hand, you keep it in his grip, biting down on your lip so hard it hurts. He’s too close, too fucking big all over – you shouldn’t think of everywhere. Not like you’ve even seen one aside from Satoru after he’d been inside that ‘jennifer’ whatever the fuck her name was, and that didn’t make you ‘excited’.

You’re curious at times, at how wet you get around Sukuna, but as a sheltered girl who was hardly allowed friends – and they’re all trad wives – there hasn’t been much talk. ‘Let your husband do anything and just live that way’ was damn near their advice – though that did land you here, after all.

“You’re real distracted,” you sigh, nodding. “Lemme guess, your husband has a new girl over?”

“She slept in his bed,” you blink back emotion, shaking your head, Sukuna just quietly checks your wrist, moving it a bit. “You’d think I couldn’t hurt anymore, couldn’t feel anymore pain about it.”

“I think you’re surprisingly calm about it,” he says then. “Arranged or not, how would anyone not want you?”

Your world shifts on its axis at his gruff little confession, you’re blushing furiously now, stepping a little closer, feeling his warmth near you sink in. “Sukuna, that's sweet.”

“You keep trying to call me that,” he shakes his head – thumb slipping across the delicate veins raised on your inner wrist. “I’m not sweet.”

“You are to me,” he scoffs. “You make me feel better, that is sweet.”

“The things I’m thinking are as far from fucking ‘sweet’ as they can be,” you gasp then, when his hand slips up your arm, before he stops himself, pulling back when you wish he wouldn’t. “How innocent are you?”

“Very,” you admit. “But you could tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Hah,” he has one arm on either side of you when you press against the bag you’d just been hitting, he’s right behind you, cupping your face with a calloused, rough hand so big it takes you over. “You’d run out the door if I told you half of it.”

He backs off then, leaving you trembling, hand on your chest, going to open your mouth when he hops down as if to rush away from you. Terrified you’ve fucked it all up you hop down too, rushing to get your bag, Sukuna comes back with a little brace for your wrist and glares.

“You running off?”

“I made it weird,” you mumble, suddenly so insecure. If your own husband could fuck anything but you, what made you think Sukuna would want you being married, complicated, messy.

“I was just getting a wrap, get over here,” he tugs you over to him, sitting you on one of the cool metal benches. “Your wrists will toughen up in time.”

“Okay,” every time he touches you it sends waves of desire, your teeth clamp down on your lower lip, trying to focus. “Thank you, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry you hurt your wrist?” You nod, making Sukuna sigh now, shaking his head. “Stop apologizing for the dumbest shit. You’re fine.”

It’s awkward when you leave this time, too much between you both, your doubts raging even as you come home. For once, Satoru has no girl there, dressed in a suit and gazing over at you, gaze rushing across your body. He has no business looking that pretty and being that cruel.

“You’ve been training a lot,” he mentions, tilting his head curiously. “Every day seems excessive.”

“I like it,” you slip off your sweater, a little warm with the heat blasting, and then you feel his eyes hit your breasts. “Sorry it’s warm.”

You’re apologizing again.

For ‘dumb shit’. Is that just what you do, what you’ve always done?

“We have an event in an hour.” You nod and rush off to get ready, struggling into your dress so you don’t have to ask him for help again, he stands by the bathroom, the door open, crossing his arms. “What happened to your wrist?”

“Oh, I twisted it,” you take off the little velcro now. “It probably would look bad with the outfit.” He just shrugs, eyeing the marks left from the brace. “Do I look all right? I don’t think I have time to do makeup.”

“I guess,” that’s his answer.

‘I guess.’

You suppose it’s better than him telling you he’s unattracted again, you already know that now, looking at yourself in the mirror and hastily trying to do something with your hair. “What’s the event?”

“Some dumb fucking charity auction,” he eyes his phone now. “I thought that Jennifer told you.”

“No, she did not,” you scoff then, looking at him. “You ask your mistress to send me your itinerary?”

“She’s my secretary so yes, that’s what she’s for,” you can’t with him, especially his mean little smile. “That make you mad?”

You say nothing, you’re not taking his obvious bait – pushing past him quickly and grabbing your clutch, seeing a pair of black lace panties underneath the little glass side table then. Your jaw sets, glaring over at him.

“I asked you to keep the fucking to your room,” he frowns, looking down now, sighing. “What the fuck, Gojo?”

“I didn’t fuck her out here,” he answers with a shrug. “Just fingered her.”

You blush and he laughs softly, walking up to you, tilting your chin so that you’re forced to meet his gaze.

“Haven’t been fingered even?” You refuse to answer, jaw setting, not wanting to give him the satisfaction, his fingers drifting down your dress, achingly slow, blue eyes dilating just a bit. “You’re all heated thinking of it, huh?”

The backs of his knuckles drag against your puffy folds over your dress, you bite down on your lip, hating what his eyes do, when they look for a moment like maybe he would want you. You grip his wrist firmly though, shocking him for a moment when you shove his hand off.

“Aren’t we late?”

*****

Gojo 

“Satoru,” his best friend frowns at him, seeing you across the room sitting alone, avoiding everyone and everything. “She looks miserable, the fuck are you doing?”

“She’ll be free soon enough,” Suguru narrows his eyes, Satoru’s mind goes to earlier when you gripped him so damn strong out of nowhere.

What sort of working out were you doing, and with who? The thought of someone touching you makes him unreasonably jealous, considering any time he did you froze like you did. He almost felt your heat, imagining the slick, perfect little cunt you must have that he actively turned down.

Now it’s driving him insane, you are gone all the time, not even bothering to look at him. Isn’t this what he wanted, you to hate him, to get over your dumb crush and realize he’s not worth it? Satoru will never love anyone, he knows that he's not capable of it any more than his parents were capable of loving him.

He supposes Suguru was as close as he got to ‘loving’ someone, though even his best friend was done with his shit clearly.

“She seems really sweet,” Satoru sighs.

“She is annoyingly sweet. And perfect. And pure.” He says it with disdain.

“So you need an average, slutty ass secretary?” Satoru rolls his eyes, sipping on his whiskey. “I’m sorry everyone knows.”

“Good, give the Gojo name a scandal,” his lips quirk up. “She is too sweet for someone like me anyway.”

“I don’t understand why you’re going that far,” Suguru says, shaking his head. “Have you even looked at her? If you had to be arranged, wouldn’t you want it to be someone like her?”

“You like how she looks so much, you go fuck her,” Suguru glares at him, and Satoru tenses when he realizes you’re walking past right behind Suguru, looking up at him with devastated eyes.

Those eyes.

He didn’t love to hurt you, despite what you thought, he just needed you to give up, to not have any feelings, and you still seem to. Still seem to respond to him, still try for whatever reason. He’s given you no possible sign that he feels what he feels, that he does want you, he does think you’re beautiful, he couldn’t say that shit when he’s finally got you shoved far enough away.

Yet he hates himself for it, loathes himself for the tears in your eyes as Suguru turns and sees you, flush on his cheeks, scowling back at his own friend. Satoru opens his mouth then closes it, seeing that you’re about to break apart hearing it – that he told his best friend to go fuck his wife because he won’t.

“Let’s dance, hmm?” Suguru asks you, and Satoru watches you take his hand and nod, swiping a tear with a tremulous smile.

“Yes please,” Satoru watches you both, leaning back against the wall, studying how his hand takes over your waist, how you seem…

Happy at that moment.

“Satoru Gojo,” his mother’s voice is in his ear, right next to your parents, he blinks just a bit. “We’d like to know what’s going on.”

“Is she not doing good enough?” Your mother asks, Satoru frowns then, blinking just a bit.

“We tried our best to make sure she was perfect for you,” that’s your dad, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Is she giving you trouble?”

“Is she giving me trouble?” He’s dumbfounded at their question, looking back at you on the floor.

“You could stand to keep your affairs discreet,” his mother chides. “You don’t need to flaunt them around even if she’s not adequate.”

Not adequate – you.

This is why he fucking hates this.

“We can keep her for a bit, if she needs more polishing.”

“She’s not a fucking golden retriever who needs training,” he says then, earning their surprised looks. “She’s polished to a tee, I assure you.”

“Then surely there’s more we can do, she does look disheveled," your mom says, Satoru swallows down guilt now.

This would only look bad on you. He’s a Gojo, he can do whatever the fuck he wants, he’s a man and you’re…

“I’ll dance with her, yeah?” He gets them to shut up for now, he’s still got too much going on, trying to find the best way to annul the marriage without you getting hurt in the process.

Well, more hurt.

When he cuts in, you’re stiff in his arms, he tugs you against him, remembering the first dance he had, where he had the maid’s cunt all over his fingers. You tried even then, pathetically trying when you look like that, and it all starts to make sense why you are so desperate, meeting them.

“Act like you enjoy it, they’re on my ass,” he says gruffly. He doesn’t want to hear more shit about you ‘training’ or getting ‘polished’ but he doesn’t tell you that, his hand on the small of your back. “Smile like you did at Suguru.”

“I like Suguru,” you say softly, a mean smile on a usually shy, soft face, stabbing Gojo in the heart. “I don’t like you.”

He chuckles now, leaning low and murmuring your ear. “That’s perfect.”

*****

You

You’re extra aggressive after that night, after hearing him so casually not just dismiss you as a woman but tell his friend to ‘have at it’.

You’re imagining his dumb pretty face as you punch the bag over and over, Sukuna is quiet, it’s early before he even opens the gym but when you asked to come he had no problem, he was there early anyway. You couldn’t stand one more moment not hitting something, all of the energy you’ve spent crying over Gojo, over your fucking parents.

Coming to you all ‘disappointed’ when you’ve done NOTHING but try, what’s it got you, what’s anything get you? Perfect, perfect, perfect – for what. It keeps racing in your mind until you feel sick to your stomach, breaths coming in short little pants, hitting it so hard you almost tweak your sore wrist, but you welcome the pain, until Sukuna steps back.

“Hey,” Sukuna is dabbing a little washcloth on your brow, you're shaky and overheated from punching that bag so damn hard. The cool cloth feels good against your clammy skin, you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. "Feel better?"

"Actually yes," you look up into those ruby eyes that hold so much in them, lost for a moment. He grabs you a water and twists it open, you drink from it – a little drop slipping across your chin, he swipes it with ease, making you tremble.

Fuck you want him, you want to feel what it’s like, whatever he thinks you’re ‘too sweet and innocent’ to hear. You want to know what’s behind those eyes, so fucking guarded, but you don’t know how to say it when you stand in that ring with him. It’d be so selfish to drag him into your fucked life, but for some reason he deals with you, he spends the time.

Your friend, he’s your friend right?

Yet when Sukuna’s sooty pink lashes lower, and his hands gently fix one of your bobby pins up, you catch his wrist without thinking. He pauses, teeth glinting with his little grin. "Practicing self defense against big ass pink haired men who touch your hair, huh woman?"

You know he's joking with you, but you step closer, breath catching when you inhale his scent in your nostrils. Not that obnoxious cologne Satoru wears, it's real and male and musky – sweat mixed with something inherently him. It shoots straight to your core, the need for him in every single way, drawing you in like a moth to a flame, like his gravity is pulling you.

Sukuna exhales, letting you put his hand on your cheek, so big and tall over you, shadows casting across the boxing ring.

“Treading in dangerous territory, brat,” he murmurs, but he doesn’t move your hand, letting you slip your fingers across the jut of his jaw, feeling his pulse fluttering when it slips across his neck. 

"I don't want to get you involved in my mess, Sukuna," you say then, catching his attention, pulling back ever so slightly.

"Maybe I don't mind a mess," you sigh, looking at his plump lips, his tattooed hand tugging you closer by the waist until you’re almost against him. "Messes are my specialty. Wanna know why?"

You swallow nervously, trembling in front of him, sweat making you shiver just a bit as the AC kicks on overhead, cooling sweat soaked skin. "Why?"

"Because, I'm damaged too, I just hide it better than you," you shut your eyes for a moment.

"I've only kissed once," he blinks a bit, frowning. "So maybe I'll suck at this."

"What now-"

That's when you - Mrs. Gojo - tiptoe and kiss Ryomen Sukuna on his lips.

And that's when he drags you against him and presses your back on the ropes around the boxing ring, moaning. Hard body, hot and heavy, a thigh pressing where you've never been touched, making you whine out, lifting you like it’s nothing. His tongue slips past the seam of your lips, gripping you so tight you can’t breathe.

You don’t want to though, you want him to take all your breath away.

For the first time maybe ever, you feel so wanted, the way he devours you like he's waited forever for it, moaning against your skin and easing you down then, letting you slip down his body, cupping your face. Huge hands taking it over – his breath coming in pants, this look in his eyes, his pupils swallowing those irises until they’re black underneath those pink lashes.

“Don’t do that,” he huffs, shoulders heaving up and down. 

“I’m sor-”

“I’ll fucking break you,” your tummy clenches in response, pussy drooling at his desperation, looking at you like you’re it. “Ruin your perfect little cunt, is that really what you want?”

“Ruin my… um… you…” You don’t even really get his terminology, but the way he says it just makes you slip your arms across his neck. “You didn’t mind the kiss, then?”

He laughs, shaking his head before a sorrow hits his eyes, brushing your hair back with one hand, the other pulling you close. “Do I mind it?”

“I haven’t done anything,” you admit, the insinuation clear as hands drag along the curve of your waist. “I don’t know if-”

Sukuna cuts you off with another kiss, tongue delving into the recesses of your mouth, holding you up so his thickness presses your needy cunt through the thin layers of your yoga pants and his gym shorts. You taste a hint of that coffee he had earlier – mixed with the light salt of his sweat dripping from his lips, groaning as he feels your thighs wrap him.

“Mmm, if you don’t go I’ll fucking break you,” you’re too far gone, just rolling your hips, making him suck in a breath while precum leaks and makes him sticky. His breaths mingle with yours, all the tension of this week coming to a head, he’s done holding back yet he still tries to. “M’not fucking kidding. Should go.”

“Do you want me to go?” His answer is somehow gently landing you on the white floor underneath your feet – now on your back – and spreading your thighs, pressing up between them so hot and thick. “Sukuna…”

“Don’t say my name that way, fuck,” his lips are all over you, tongues dancing so messy with that saliva dripping you blush. Your fingers trail down his abdomen, over the rippling muscles, feeling them tense and bunch. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly, finding him then, watching his eyes flutter shut. “I wanna hear the things you won’t say.”

“You don’t.” His grip is on your wrist, pinning it over your head. Your breasts heave up and down, one of his hands slipping under your top, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I’ll tell you something I think,” he raises a slutty eyebrow, two barbells that make it even sluttier, just that look has you writhing under him, as you bite down on your lip. “Deal?”

“What’s your cute little comment, hmm? Wanna hold my hand?” You glare and he chuckles. “I love when you scowl.”

“I have never touched myself,” Sukuna’s face goes into shock, red eyes wide. “Never um… came. And last night, I thought of you and… I tried to. I don’t know what I was doing and it didn’t work, but I thought of you and was…”

“Don’t say it.”

You sigh, suddenly feeling bold with him.

“Wet.”

“Fuck me,” Sukuna’s taking back over your mouth, kisses more desperate and hungry by the moment, you’re soaked when he finds your puffy cunt for the first time, tentatively slipping a fingertip inside and hissing, you gasp out. “Cunt is way too small, I’d split you in half.”

Whatever he means you’re just wetter, gasping when he pulls it back before he gives you what you crave. Slick fingers on your lip, watching your blush for a moment before kissing your cunt off him, a hand now under your head so it doesn’t hurt pressing into the ring’s floor. Your thighs spread for more, arching your hips.

“Too fuckin’ pretty,” you shake your head, blinking tears and making him halt, scowling. “You are.”

“You’re-”

“If you say sweet I’ll bruise your cervix,” you’re a flustered mess at that, earning his groan of frustration, taking your hand in his, nipping your finger with his teeth, sharp pain pressing in. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“Deal?”

“If you can make yourself cum for me tonight, I’ll let you use my fingers tomorrow,” your fingers slip down your puffy folds guided with his own, before he pushes yours up. “Your clit, rub it.”

“It’s… ah!” Sukuna watches you jolt at your own touch, pulling your fingers away as if burned, cheeks flushing. 

"Twitching I bet," he sighs, amused, hovering over you and putting your fingers back down. “Do you want me to make you cum tomorrow?”

You nod eagerly but you don’t feel ‘pathetic’ with Sukuna, he wants you just as desperately. “Y-yes.”

“Be a good girl,” you whine out, making him smirk just a bit. “Touch it again, little circles."

Those fingers find your clit again, this time obeying him and testing the little movements, shaky breaths overtaking you. Sukuna's eyes darken as he watches, his own fingers guiding your movements. “Sukuna… mnh!”

"Do it slower," he whispers, looking at you in this way…

Is this what it is, to be desired?

You’re shaking, wantonly playing with yourself in Sukuna’s boxing ring under his hungry gaze, rubbing circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves, hips jerking. A whimper escapes when you accidentally press too hard, when it jumps and gets so slick your fingers slip off almost.

“Too much!”

Sukuna's knuckles brush your inner thigh where slick has trailed, moaning and spreading it around until it’s glossy. "Keep going, imagine it's my fingers."

The thought sends heat from your core – little movements feeling so fucking good that your eyes are rolling back in your skull, his hot lips pressing kisses on your upper breasts, letting them gently bounce from your yoga top. When his tongue flicks over your nipple you’re about to shatter, whimpering in Sukuna’s ear as he keeps guiding your fingers.

Your slick drowns both of you.

“Go ahead,” he urges, looking down at you. “Lemme see how pretty you are when you cum for the first time.”

It’s heady and insane, lewd and filthy him watching you fall apart – you whine out as the first bit of that orgasm fucking destroys you, hips lifting off the cold mat as white stars burst behind your eyelids. The pleasure makes you dizzy, head falling back, back arching up as you ride it out, gushing in spurts in embarrassing amounts.

Your fingers fall weakly, opening your eyes to the blurry vision of Sukuna watching with lidded, dazed eyes.

“You did such a good job today,” you almost cry then.

Praise was something you’ve never gotten. Your breaths quicken, tits almost slipping up and out where he’d tugged at them, Sukuna gently moves your hand, his crimson gaze locks onto yours as he brings your fingertips to his mouth. 

“Sukuna! You’re…” His long tongue swipes against your fingers in a circle, before he slips a filthy drag between them, lapping up all of your juices. “Tasting me?”

“Mmm, fuck,” he hums low in his throat, eyes fluttering shut as he sucks each little digit clean, his cheeks hollowing. He looks like he’s cumming – you think, you’re not sure.

You do know it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, the sight of it pulls another broken moan from your throat, the obscene sound echoing in the gym's quiet, until there is no sound but that suctioned pop.

“I wanna bury my face in you,” his words are insanity, things you never thought you’d hear, hovering over you and pulling your thigh up so you feel him. “Then I wanna bury my cock, wreck you until you won’t walk out of here, pump you full until you drip me when you get home to your fuck ass husband.”

“Sukuna… I… you really…” He kisses you quiet, pulling back and laughing softly, huge body casting a shadow across you both, eyes dangerous, grin psychotic – white against his skin.

“That’s just a bit of my thoughts, you need to go before you’re not a virgin anymore,” he touches your lips thoughtfully. “I’d fill all your holes though.”

“All!? Um…” He pulls up and gently adjusts your clothing with precise fingers, kissing you again and again.

“Don’t let me corrupt you, just run off,” his words hurt, as if he’s not good enough for you, when that’s so not the case. “Shouldn’t even come back.”

“No,” is your answer. A firm answer you almost apologize for, his sigh loud as he runs a hand shaky through his hair. “I don’t want to run, if you don’t want me to.”

“Dangerous and dumb idea,” his hand entangles in the nape of your neck, his own breaths erratic. “If you do good tonight I’ll make sure you have my fingers. Will you cum thinking of them?”

“I’ll try to do it right,” you blush now, letting him stroke your back, sending shivers as you fall into another kiss.

You don’t want to go home.

When you go to leave, he pauses you, a hand on your shoulder. “He doesn’t hit you or some shit, yeah? Because I swear-”

“Never, I smacked him,” Sukuna sighs in relief. “It’s mental pain, not that. I promise.”

“Still fucked but,” he shakes his head. “If it ever got there I have a champion belt I can throw on.”

“I bet you do,” you smile, feeling cared for was new.

“Go.”

“One more?”

“No, won’t stop there,” he shakes his head and you turn, just for him to drag you back, kissing you over and over, as gone in you as you are in him, pulling back to brush your cheeks, sighing. “Now go.”

You don’t say anything, the intentions were clear, Sukuna wanted you in ways you knew nothing of other that watching Satoru and hearing things here and there, in ways that makes your clit still twitch. Cunt pulsing around nothing, hands shaky as you drive, a mix of pleasure, desire, and more.

Feelings, brand new and blooming, intense.

And guilt.

Why?

You walk up quietly to see Satoru standing in front of the porch, gaze flickering to you, as if he fucking knew somehow, smoking a cigarette. You blink for a moment, you didn’t know him to smoke, but then you don’t really know him, not at all. You walk up and go to open the door as he blows some of it out, leaned back on the railing, crossing his legs at the ankles.

“Your lips are swollen,” you suck in a breath, freezing and turning to look at him. “You bite them or get them bitten?”

“How would you even notice? You don’t notice me,” your words are carried by the chilled breeze. “Since when do you smoke?”

“Hah,” he inhales a drag, stepping near you, exhaling up and away. “I do smoke. I have.”

“Ah,” you look away then. “It’s shit for you but… I can’t say I care enough to tell you to stop.”

“Ouch,” his hand brushes your hair back, frowning. “Hair’s a mess.”

“Yep,” you won’t deny it if he asks, but he’s not owed a fucking explanation either. “You eat dinner?”

“Yeah there’s food in the kitchen,” he flicks his cigarette out, quiet.

“Where’s Jennifer? Or… Chloe? Is that her name?”

“I don’t have a woman every night,” you laugh then, Satoru eyes you. “I don’t.”

“Okay, it’s ‘not my business’ right, Gojo?”

He says nothing.

You’re tired of trying to see something in him, when he presses against you, your front against the door, tilting your chin and eyeing your lips carefully, thumb brushing over them. “You were kissing or sucking cock?”

“Wouldn’t tell you,” you lift your chin, looking up at him, feeling his grip tighten on either side of your chin. “I’m gonna eat.”

“Yeah.” He lets you go, you struggle inside, trying to catch a breath.

That night you think of him – of Sukuna’s ruby eyes and vermillion lips, of his hungry kisses and the way he looked at you. Even if it was fleeting, even if he was just in the moment, you never knew you could feel that way, feel so wanted, so beautiful.

You can’t stop thinking of the words.

Break you.

Fuck all your holes.

Fuck you’re pretty.

You touch yourself alone for the first time in your life tonight, and Satoru Gojo may have heard you outside your door, he may have stroked his cock right outside your door, head resting on it. He may be regretting things, he may desire you, hearing your sharp gasps as he knows you’re touching yourself, imagining you gripping those sheets and fucking yourself with your fingers.

It’s a sick thing to do, to jerk his cock to a girl he turned down, a girl he’s made hate him on purpose, one he’s acted like he doesn’t want, one that soon will be long gone and think of him as a traumatic fucking memory. Yet it doesn’t stop him from pumping his cock up and down with his fist, moaning quietly as you reach your peak so loudly.

Yet he doesn’t hear his name.

He hears you mumbling – Kuna.

Welp it just gets messier from heeerree <3 A/N here, plz don't hate on reader for being a 'doormat' she literally is traumatized and will have more character development as we go. You can hate on Gojo though LMAO!!! I hope you enjoy, I am so thankful for the love and look forward to hearing your thoughts!

dogboy!caleb who transfers to your school a month and a half after coming home. your town is a bit on the small side, so they often combine some of the younger kids with some of the older ones, and your school happens to double up as both an elementary and a middle school. you’re ecstatic! he’s a little older than you so you don’t have the same classes, but you two get to walk home together. and, when he’s got free periods, he walks over to your class and your teacher allows you two to hang out! for once, you find school to be exciting to attend rather than something to be afraid of. for once, you don’t eat lunch alone and miserable.

dogboy!caleb who is unsurprisingly popular at school. it takes a little while for other kids to warm up to him—hybrids are rare in your town, and they’ve never been around a hybrid kid before—but in no time at all, they’re practically tripping over themselves to get close to him. something that initially doesn’t bother you as much, because you’re proud that your gege is so well liked! you get to show him off, and you soak up the jealous glares and awed looks you get when he walks you home, swinging your held hands together while you babble on about your day.

dogboy!caleb who quickly rises to the top of the social food chain; joining the basketball team, being nominated to be on the student council, having some of the top scores, etc, etc. He’s got loads of people and obligations vying for his attention, from his buddies from the team to the student council planning for school events to being asked to tutor in study groups. as weeks turn into months, you end up seeing him less and less as he gets busier and busier with his extracurriculars. you often have to wait for him in the library so you can walk home together, and it slowly begins to bother you when you're stuck there for hours and hours at a time. watching his classmates fawn all over him, laughing and joking, smiling without a care in the world. as pretty girls older than you giggle and twirl their hair, leaning in close to his face to layer compliment after compliment on him. while you’re left to sit in the corner, alone and brooding as he shoots you the occasional apologetic grimace.

dogboy!caleb who begins to notice that you’ve grown quiet on your walks back from school. you’re fine by the time you two get back home, and maybe you cling to him a little harder, but it’s nothing too out of the usual. but he can just feel something is off whenever the day starts again and the cycle back home repeats. And repeats. And repeats until even going to sleep doesn’t dissuade your pensive, almost angry mood. and he tries everything to make you smile, to make you happy but nothing really seems to work anymore. you give him the cold shoulder, reply to his questions with silences or curt words. you two don’t even watch movies anymore, and he gets progressively panicked the more and more you seem to drift away no matter how hard he tries to keep you in his hold. your grandma notices, because of course she does, but the you refuse to answer her questions, and caleb has none to give. she knows that you are a bit of a handful in terms of temperament; snappy and standoffish when you fall into one of your moods. she figures that this must be ones of those times, and she opts to wait just a little bit before she really puts her foot down.

dogboy!caleb who once again leads you to the library. it’s another study group this time. its supposed to be him and a few of his teammates, but when you two walk through the doors, it’s a lot…bigger than he expects. it's his a few of his team milling about the large table where their usual study sessions happen, as well as a whole bunch of girls from his class. he notices how your already sour mood worsens, and a low whine is building up in his throat before he forcibly swallows it back down. glancing at you, he offers a smile that screams out an apology. you hardly react, flicking over him with dark, unreadable eyes before you sigh and begin to shuffle away. your hair is down today, and he can smell the remnants of your vanilla shampoo once you sharply duck his outstretched hand. it stings something fierce when you shoot him a mean glare, but before he can possibly ask what’s wrong--what he did to make you look at him like that--you’ve already turned your back to him. you angrily stalk over to your designated corner, roughly tossing your bag down onto the floor; snagging a book from the inside before you bury your nose in the pages.

dogboy!caleb who ignores the call of his name, following after you without hesitation. your hide your face within the paperback held in between your small hands, and it causes a something heavy and painful to weigh down on his chest when you ignore his presence. his shadow casts over your form, and even though every hair is prickling along your skin at finally having his devoted attention on you, the spiteful part of yourself wants him to suffer a little more. it’s mean. petty and unfair, you know. but you hate the fact that you have to share him now. he was yours first. he was the first kid to accept you for who you are, flaws and all. you know him better than those annoying classmates of his, those insufferable girls who look at him with hearts in their eyes, those dumb boys who hog him on the weekends with their stupid sport. but he still gives them more attention than you. getting home from school is less like you two spending time together, and more like he’s busy studying or chatting on his phone with his friends. and you know he doesn't mean to exclude you, because when he does have any excess time, he spends it with you--as rare as that is nowadays. he even invites you out when he hangs outside with his friends. you always go because you just can’t help yourself, but the pit in leaves in your stomach when you sit on the sidelines and watch him have fun with others only gets worse and worse. caleb is yours; your best friend, your gege. but, it doesn’t seem like anyone ever picks up on it, least of all him.

dogboy!caleb who doesn't stop his hand from snatching the book away from your face. you make an angry noise, curling your fingers into fists as you place them in your lap--keeping your eyes locked onto your knuckles to avoid his burning stare. he rests his hands on the table, leaning down to try and catch your eye. but you stubbornly refuse, closing your eyes and turning your head no matter what angle he looks at you, staying silent in the face of his questions and concern. you hate to admit it, but it does warm you inside to see him try so hard to get your attention. but it also makes you feel icky and gross, hearing the barely bitten back whines, the growing desperation as he tries his best to stay calm. you waver, in the face of him trying so hard to figure out what’s wrong, so with one long sigh, you finally open your eyes and look at him. his entire body is tense, ears flattened to his head as he looks at you with furrowed brows and wide, almost hurt eyes. the sight immediately has you softening the frown on your face. you reach out to curl your pinkie around his, softly apologizing for being so mean.

dogboy!caleb who immediately relaxes at your touch, the tense line of his shoulders drooping into a semi-comfortable looking slouch while his ears perk up. his entire hand wraps around yours as he quietly asks you what’s wrong, peering at you with his shiny, dusk-purple irises. you pout, avoiding his gaze as guilt weighs heavy in your belly. he squeezes your hand and asks again, but the shame of your actions begins to catch up with you and you find you don’t have the words to explain yourself. you don’t know the nitty, gritty details of his early childhood, but you know enough to gather that he hasn’t really experienced a “normal” school life. if he gets a little caught up in the excitement of it all, then you shouldn’t be punishing him for it. that’s…that’s just cruel, and your gege is the last person you want to be cruel to. even if it makes you angry that he’s now others’ too, it’s something you’re gonna have to accept. if only to keep from hurting him further.

dogboy!caleb who relents when he sees the frustrated wobble of your lower lip. he knows that face, and he knows that it’s better to give you time to sort out your thoughts rather than push further. so he sighs and lets go of your hand, reaching over to lightly tweak your nose. you whine a little, swatting his hand away while trying your best to look annoyed. but how can you be when caleb is giving you the attention you’re so desperately craving. when he looks so relieved at having you speak to him.

dogboy!caleb who smiles at the sparkle of humor in your eyes, quietly promising to you that he’ll make you whatever you want once they get back home. but, only after you tell him what’s been going on lately. you bite your lip, but slowly nod at his imploring stare. you don’t like being mad at caleb. you hate it, in fact. it feels wrong to associate negative things with him when all he’s ever made you feel is accepted and happy. until now, at least. so you quietly agree, giggling when you can see the tip of his wagging tail peak over the edge of the table. that lovely sound finally puts him at ease, and feeling overwhelmed with relief and excitement, he leans over and nuzzles the tip of his nose into the top of your head. you giggle again, titling forward to brush your cheek against the front of his shoulder you can reach. he promises you that he’ll be done after an hour, which is a lot shorter than he normally stays. he pulls back, gently booping your nose with his finger. he asks if you can be patient with him, and feeling so much better now that he’s giving you the chance to explain, you eagerly agree with a real smile. seeing it makes that frantic energy inside of him calm. he doesn’t know what exactly he did, but it’s clear that it’s him that’s been making you so upset. or at least, what he’s been doing. it has been a long time since it’s just been the two of you outside of school work or meal times, and he feels like an idiot for just noticing it. if what really made you so upset was his busy schedule, then he can tweak it and spend less time out with others. anything to bring you back to him.

dogboy!caleb who jogs over to the study group, waving off their concerns with a practiced smile. he warns them that he’s on a time limit, and laughs off their disappointed but friendly ‘boos’. quickly, though, he gets into study mode and the group begins discussing their recent math quiz and what they did wrong on it. caleb sets a timer on his phone—one grandma had gotten him since you were still a little too young to have one in her opinion—and settles into his seat. he’s really only here to offer support, as he’s had no trouble at all when it comes to his classes. so when one of the girls from his homeroom asks for his input, he doesn’t hesitate to offer his help.

dogboy!caleb who casually leans over to peer at her paper, and you watch as the girl he’s helping flushes at his easy going smile and bright eyes. her own gaze flickers from his ears to his face and back again while he talks her through whatever her problem is, and your good mood vanishes. that familiar uncomfortable burn settles within your chest, and you dig your nails into your dress. you don’t like the way she’s looking at him, you don’t like it at all. it doesn’t help that another girl slowly inches her way over, and after he’s clearly done helping the first, the second seizes her opportunity and she immediately pounces. her voice is loud and whiny enough to carry over to your corner, and your eye twitches when caleb laughs and calms down her dramatic complaints, easily switching over to pay attention to her instead. on and on this goes as the hour ticks down slowly for you. you want to look away, you want to ignore all those girls who are so much prettier than you are. who are thinner and sweet and cute in a way you’ll never be. who get to spend time with caleb when you can’t; who get to steal his attention away when you barely have it despite living together. but it’s like your eyes are glued to the scene, like you’re frozen in place. that itching burn grows hotter and hotter the longer you look, until you suddenly just can’t take it anymore and you have to leave.

dogboy!caleb who, after forty-five minutes, gets some time to breath. he checks the time on his phone, idly planning on what you could possible want for dinner. he’s thinking up a few different options when he turns his head to peek at what you’re doing, only—you aren’t there. your seat is empty, your bag gone and there’s not a trace to be found of you. his heart drops to his stomach as his eyes frantically dart around the library, but you’re nowhere to be found. he’s trying to keep his head cool, but he can feel the panic in his chest grow stronger the longer he realizes that he didn’t even notice you leave. he quickly rises to his feet, ignoring the questions thrown his way as he tosses his bag over his shoulder. he doesn’t have time for this, he needs to find you. nothing else matters but you. nothing.

dogboy!caleb who hones in on your scent immediately. he'd memorized it, early on, and he's gotten plenty of time to adjust to the overwhelming smells staining the halls. it's no trouble at all to follow his nose out the library doors, not even bothering to acknowledge the concerned calls of his study group. his mind is focused on nothing but finding you. everything around him simultaneously goes sharp and blurry, eyes flicking around as your scent trails down the halls and out the front gates of the school. the energy building up beneath his skin sets him on edge, an unfamiliar kind of restlessness sending adrenaline coursing through his veins. how did he not realize you were gone? how could he have been so wrapped up in that stupid study group to not notice you leaving? he’s attuned to everything about you, at least, he thought he was. he clenches his jaw when, instead of going down their usual path, the vanilla-lavender-sea salt scent of yours trails down another. it’s a route you haven’t taken with him before; a route that leads you further into town rather than down the backstreets to their home.

dogboy!caleb who can’t stop his feet from moving faster, the rhythmic thud of his bag bouncing against his spine. the further he jogs, the stronger your scent gets. his heart pounds even faster inside of his chest, eyes focused and dark as he glances around the street he’s turned onto. it’s not like it’s a bad part of the neighborhood to be in, there’s even a park further up the street. but, there are a lot of older kids milling about the sidewalk. teenagers from the neighboring high school, judging by their uniforms, and it makes him nervous to imagine you wandering about by yourself. he sniffs deeply, head instinctively following the line of your scent as it leads towards the playground. he frowns as he approaches the edges of the park, noticing a small groups of high school boys hanging around a nearby bench. their eyes are drawn towards the park, but he’s a little too far from it to see what they’re looking at clearly. he sniffs again, his ears flicking as he instinctively listens in on their conversation.

‘who’s the kid?’

‘i don’t know man, when i walked up kai was just talkin’ to her.’

‘isn’t it kinda weird that an elementary schooler is hanging around at this hour?’

‘maybe he’s tryna figure that out? if he can, he’ll probably walk her home if she’s lost.’

‘yea, that’s true. you gotta admit though, she’s kinda creepy the more you look at her. i mean, cmon, she’s so gloomy, it’s making me sad just lookin’ at her. she looks like she could stare right through my soul, it’s freaky, bro.’

‘don’t be rude, man, she’s just a kid. what’s if she’s got something going on at home?’

‘maybe, i guess. but what kinda normal kid carries around a fuckin’ ghostface bookbag anyway? isn’t that like, a rated r movie?’

dogboy!caleb who pauses halfway through his step. there’s only one elementary school kid he knows who carries that kinda bag around. the blood in his veins turns to ice when he realizes the girl they’re talking about is you. in the presence of some unknown high school boy. his teeth itch inside of his mouth and he rushes forward without hesitation. he doesn’t care who the hell that other boy is, he’s not gonna leave you with him no matter how ‘nice’ he may appear to you.

dogboy!caleb who takes a good look at the people requesting to interview him that day. an older lady and what looks to be her grandkid meet him in the playroom, and it's obvious to anyone with eyes that you’re nervous; hiding your entire body behind the wide drape of your grandma’s skirt. he can only see the barest hints of dark curls pinned into pigtails, and only because they're so big that they peek out from behind your hunched over grandmother.

dogboy!caleb who is willing to give this family a shot, layers on the friendly cheer, greeting the both of you with a wide smile and a soft tone. it instantly puts everyone at ease, even you. hesitant but visibly curious, you peek around your grandma's legs. he catches wide eyes behind even wider lenses before your get spooked and hide again. he and the adults laugh, and it doesn't feel forced to him like usual. he finds your shyness cute, a bit refreshing from the rowdy crowd that usually bothers him at the adoption center.

dogboy!caleb who watches as your grandma nudges you a little, and your tiny voice mumbles a half-hearted introduction. it's quiet even to his enhanced hearing, so it's unsurprising when your grandma huffs and lightly scolds you. he tries to keep his expression open and inviting after your grandma gives you another pointed nudge and gently pulls you from behind her.

dogboy!caleb who notices your height at first. you’re so small compared to him, just barely coming up to the middle of his chest if he were to measure it out. your hair is pulled into two large pigtails, held by two cute panda scrunchies and you've still got your school uniform on. you nervously stare up at him through thick black glasses, and he swears he feels his heart stop the moment his gaze locks with yours.

dogboy!caleb can't stop his tail from wagging even if he tried. your eyes are dark and glossy, and combined with the droopyness of your eyeshape and the faint shadows creasing at the skin beneath, it's a downright lethal combination. you're too cute--way too cute for him to handle. it ignites a protective instinct in him so fierce that it burns him from the inside out, fingers itching with the sudden urge to make the sad gleam in your eyes melt away. 'this is it.' he thinks. he’s found where he wants to be, and he’s gonna make sure that he goes home with you no matter what.

dogboy!caleb who, after being left to chat by the adoption agency chaperone and your grandma, carefully coaxes out your words. it takes a lot of gentle prodding on his part—you’re painfully shy and it’s clear to him that you don’t really know what to say—but he eventually gets you going. small things, like your favorite colors (purple and black), your favorite foods (the fried chicken your grandma makes, as well as the strawberry cake she buys from the bakery down the street), your favorite subject in school (reading because you like to read and it’s the subject you’re really, really good at), until he asks about your favorite movies and shows. he sees how that seems to make you retreat, but before you can fully box him out, he blurts out his own favorite movie to try and make you comfortable; an obscure nothing burger of slasher film that he doesn’t expect you to know about.

dogboy!caleb who can only watch in awe as your moody expression blooms into something incandescently happy. a sparkle twinkles in your eyes, the smile at your lips showing off your slightly sharp lateral incisors. your soft voice gains life as you scoot closer to him, excitedly throwing him rapid-fire questions about the movie. he can only dumbly answer back, eyes unblinking as they stare at your now sunny disposition. on and on and on you talk about your favorite movies and shows—most of them some kind of gore-fest of an anime. you occasionally throw in a few cult classic films, getting even happier when he can tell you his own opinions about them.

dogboy!caleb who gets completely and utterly infatuated with you--more than he was initially. he does everything in his power to win over your grandma when she comes back for her own time to speak with him privately. you’re pouting, upset as you sit by the chaperone a little ways away, picking at your slices of orange as you shoot glances at your grandma and him. he does his best to stay focused, but it’s hard when he meets your eye and you give him an excited little wave and smile, every time, without fail. and maybe something shows on his face when you do, because your grandma chortles. she gets his attention back by telling him that all she’s ever wanted for you was a friend, and she can see that’s what you’ll get if she brings him home with them.

dogboy!caleb who’s nerves are twisting his stomach in knots when you shyly ask for a hug before you two leave. he doesn’t hesitate to agree, barely opening his arms before your careening into his hold. it’ll take at least a few days for all the paperwork to go through, and then after there needs to be all kinds of background checks and safety inquiries before he’s permitted to leave. maybe another month before he’s able to see you again, something that bums you out as you cling to him. a soft rumble vibrates through his chest as he holds you close, lightly nuzzling the top of your head. he takes in your scent then, lightly rubbing his fingers down your shoulders and arms as he does so. he does the same to your grandma when she offers herself for a hug, the nerves in his gut lessening somewhat now that they’re marked by his scent; that you smell like him.

dogboy!caleb who is counting down the days to his adoption, bag already packed and waiting for him to grab. he easily ignores the playful and not-so-playful teasing of the other kids in the bunks. their opinions are worthless to him, and absolutely nothing can kill the excitement he feels at being able to live with you. to be around you and listen to your cute rambles. to see up close how the bright spark of happiness changes the gloomy swoop of your eyes.

dogboy!caleb whose tail wags up a storm when he sees you over a month later, lips pulled into a wide smile when you run up to him and jump into his arms. he barely flinches, wrapping you up and squeezing you until he hears you let out a breathless giggle, fingers playfully tweaking his ears as you rub your cheek against his. he goes to put you down, but you whine and beg him to carry you back to the car. he’s helpless to obey, laughing quietly as he does just that. the embarrassment on your grandma’s face and the amusement on the agency staff greets you both when you do, and he’s happy to note that you don’t seem to care about them as you whisper to him about your secret movie collection.

dogboy!caleb who settles into his room later that night after an amazing home cooked meal, warm and full. his thoughts swirl rapidly around his new home, but most of them are focused on you. how he’ll get to spend the next two days with you since your grandma has to work, and he’s old enough to watch over both of them for a few hours. how you promised to show him all the secret movies and anime you’ve got stashed underneath your bed while you eat breakfast.

dogboy!caleb who blinks when he hears his door open, ears picking up the small shuffle of feet and the soft drag of a blanket. your voice echoes out in a soft whisper after the door creaks open, his tail and ears standing stock still in shock. quickly, though, he affirms that he’s awake and sits up, eyes tracking you easily as you pick your way through the dark. you shyly ask if you can sit in his room with him. you have trouble sleeping, and usually you would go to your grandma, but you figure caleb would be better since she has to work early in the morning and you don’t want to bother her…but he’s totally fine to say no! if it’s too much, you wouldn’t mind at all—

dogboy!caleb who immediately scoots over in his bed, patting his blanket as he invites you in. you make a little happy noise, diving for the open side to his bed. you bump and jostle into him, but he easily rights your fall and pushes you to lay down near the wall. he boxes you in like that, wrapping you in your blanket like a burrito. you try your best to muffle your laughs, but it’s hard for you to when you can tell there’s a smile on his face as he shushes you.

dogboy!caleb who falls asleep listening to your excited whispers, deeply breathing in your comforting scent as you snuggle up closer to him. your grandma later finds the two of you in the morning, you nothing but a dark purple lump in your burrito hold, and caleb with his front facing the door, protective over you even in his sleep.