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sixxels · 2 months ago

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you, always. ~ choso.k

summary!! in the chaos of frat parties, firelight, and fucked-up choices, you and choso keep dancing around what you really are. everyone sees it except you two. when one mistake shatters the illusion, you’re forced to face the truth: he was never yours. and that’s what made it hurt the most. a messy, slow-burn situationship full of angst, heartbreak, and the kind of love that doesn’t go away, no matter how hard you try to let it.

wc: 12.8k

!!disclaimer!! based on this ask! heavy themes of situationships, emotional angst, betrayal, and heartbreak, choso is a stoner, alcohol and drug use, slow-burn with a payoff, eventual resolution.

"gojo! go long!"

the air smells like salt and smoke. waves crash in the distance, a steady rhythm under the thump of bass from a speaker half-buried in the sand. the fire crackles, casting flickering shadows on faces you know too well.

you kick off your sandals, the sand cool beneath your feet. the party is in full swing, bodies swaying, drinks sloshing, joints passing from hand to hand. alpha phi knows how to throw a party, especially when finals are over and the only thing left to do is forget.

your eyes drift to the open sand, watching as sukuna, goji, and toji pass around a football with ease. shirtless, of course. they yell and laugh and tackle eachother without a care in the world as nanami and geto sit on a towel supervising their tipsy friends.

their eyes snap towards you, and gojo flashed a big toothy grin.

"y/n!! you're here!" you smile back at him but before you could walk up to greet him with a hug, two arms snake around your waist, and the scent of weed, smoke, and aragon oil invades your senses.

"hey, baby."

"hey cho."

you don’t turn around. don’t need to. his voice is low and lazy against your neck, warm breath brushing your skin like it’s second nature. he pulls you in a little tighter, his hands settling on your hips like he owns them. like he always does when he’s high and feeling a little territorial.

��jesus christ,” gojo hollers, already laughing, “you guys are so gross. it’s a beach party not a porno.” you roll your eyes, but choso doesn’t even flinch. doesn’t say a word. just rests his chin on your shoulder like he plans on staying there all night.

“don’t be mad no one wants to cuddle you,” you shoot back, and gojo gasps, clutching his chest like you physically stabbed him.

“wow. okay. betrayal. and after i saved you that jello shot earlier.”

“you drank it in front of me.”

“for you. spiritually.”

choso huffs a quiet laugh against your skin. not loud enough for anyone else to hear, but you feel it. the way his mouth brushes the curve of your jaw when he does it, the way his arms tighten for half a second like he’s anchoring you to him.

“you wanna smoke?” he murmurs, voice quiet under the music, just for you. you tilt your head back slightly, eyes meeting his. his lashes are heavy, lids low, and he looks so fucking relaxed it makes your chest ache. that easy, sleepy stoner look. always so chill, even when you know he’s not.

“yeah,” you say, just as soft, “but only if you roll it.”

he smirks, barely. “you just like watching me do it.”

“you roll like it’s a love language.”

“maybe it is.”

you feel it in your stomach then. that familiar pull. the ache of something you’re both pretending isn’t real. you lean into him anyway. because you’re a little buzzed and the night smells like ocean and smoke and the fire makes everyone look golden.

“c’mon,” he says, and tugs your hand gently, guiding you away from the fire, away from the noise, to somewhere a little quieter. as you walk, you hear gojo yell behind you, “don’t fuck on the dunes!”

you flip him off over your shoulder.

you don’t hear choso laugh, but you feel his smile in the way he squeezes your hand.

after you and choso disappear, gojo's football arcs through the night sky, spinning like a slow comet before landing in sukuna’s outstretched hands with a soft whump. he catches it effortlessly, turns, and hurls it back to toji without looking.

“well choso's all over y/n again.” sukuna says, not even trying to sound casual. toji catches the ball against his chest, grunts, then shrugs. “he’s always all over her.”

“yeah, but like,” sukuna kicks at the sand, eyes following where choso and y/n disappeared into the shadows past the firelight. “they’re not together, right? still?”

“they’ve never been together,” gojo calls out as he jogs up to them, sweat sticking to his neck, eyes glassy from whatever edible he snuck earlier. he throws himself into the circle, catches the football when toji tosses it back. “they just… do whatever the fuck it is they do. the ‘situationship’ special.”

“he fucks her. sleeps next to her every night. calls her baby,” sukuna ticks it off like a grocery list. “but they’re not dating. okay.”

“you know choso,” gojo says, spinning the ball in his hands. “he’s too high to define anything.” toji lets out a quiet scoff. “too lazy, more like.”

“same thing,” gojo shrugs. the fire crackles behind them, muffled bass bumping from the speaker half-buried in the sand. people laugh, yell, somewhere a girl shrieks in mock horror. the air is warm with weed and ocean breeze, the kind of night that makes everything feel heavier than it is.

“i don’t get it,” sukuna mutters, squinting in the direction they disappeared. “she’s bad. like, bad bad. and she’s just letting him walk around like he’s not barely trying.”

“she’s not letting him,” gojo says. “she’s just not saying anything.”

“yeah, well,” toji grunts, reaching to scratch at the back of his neck, “what’s she gonna say? ‘hey, could you stop being a pussy and ask me out’? it’s not her job to spell it out.”

sukuna snorts. “you’ve seen the way he just lets girls flirt with him, right? he doesn’t even do anything. just lets it happen. that’d drive me fucking nuts.”

“yeah, but he never does anything,” gojo cuts in, voice a little more serious now. “like, he never kisses them. never leaves with anyone. he just—sits there. lets it happen ‘til they get bored.”

“still feels like a betrayal,” sukuna mutters, kicking at the sand.

“not cheating, but not loyal either.”

toji hums low. “he’s not a cheater. he’s just… lazy. too lazy to say no, too quiet to set boundaries. but he doesn’t cross lines. not really.”

“no,” gojo agrees, tossing the football in the air and catching it. “he just hovers near the edge and hopes no one calls him on it.”

“gojo, didn’t you say that girl from theta chi was hanging off him at that house crawl last week?”

“yep.” gojo grins, wide and toothy. “kept playing with his hair, calling him cho-bear. it was nasty. and he didn’t even move. just let it happen like a couch with a pulse.”

“fucking couch with a pulse,” sukuna howls.

“no, but for real,” gojo says, tossing the ball back to sukuna, who catches it one-handed. “she saw it. y/n. just stood there, stone-faced. didn’t say a word. you could tell it was eating her alive.” toji watches the ball get passed back again. “she’s not gonna call him out unless he gives her a reason to. and he’s smart enough to never quite cross the line. just hovers near it, like a dickhead.”

“i think he genuinely doesn’t even notice when girls flirt with him,” gojo says, lounging back into the sand now, hands behind his head. “like, i think he thinks they’re just being friendly.”

“that’s even worse,” sukuna scoffs. “ignorant motherfucker.”

“nah, he notices,” toji says after a beat. “he just doesn’t care enough to stop it.” they all go quiet for a second. the ball sits forgotten in the sand between them, the firelight throwing weird shadows across their faces. “so what’s she supposed to do?” sukuna finally asks.

“go crazy,” gojo says, laughing. “spiral. drink too much. flirt with someone worse.”

“someone like you, you mean?”

gojo raises a hand. “i would be the villain in her story, yeah.”

“you’d do it just to get a rise out of choso.”

“you say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“i mean, it’d be fun to watch.” sukuna smirks, then sighs, kicking back a little in the sand. “she deserves someone who actually tries, man.”

“she deserves someone who isn’t high 24/7 and doesn’t look like he crawled out of a grave,” toji adds. gojo grins. “she likes the grave thing, though.”

“unfortunately,” sukuna says. they all look back toward the shadows past the firelight where choso and y/n disappeared, now just vague outlines under the moonlight. they’re sitting on a blanket, her legs stretched across his lap, a slow curl of smoke rising between them. her head tilts back in laughter at something he says, and even from this far, you can see the way he watches her. eyes soft. half-lidded. stoned and glowing and absolutely hers, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

“fuck,” gojo mutters. “he likes her. you can see it all over him.”

“then why doesn’t he just say it?” sukuna asks, and for once there’s no edge to it. just confusion. “because if he says it out loud,” toji says, picking up the football and tossing it lightly between his hands, “then it’s real. and if it’s real, he could lose it.” gojo whistles low. “damn, dr. phil in the house.” toji throws the ball at him. hard. “shut the fuck up.”

gojo laughs as he catches it, wincing a little. “i’m just saying. he’s not dumb. he knows the second they talk about it, shit might change. and right now? they’re in that sweet spot. not official, not broken. no labels. just… vibes.”

“vibes,” sukuna echoes, rolling his eyes.

“vibes don’t keep people around forever,” toji mutters. and they all go quiet again. the kind of silence that doesn’t ask to be filled. the kind that feels a little too honest, even for them. eventually, gojo sighs. “should we go tackle him? drag him back here and bully him into having one single adult conversation in his life?”

“nah,” sukuna smirks. “let him fuck it up on his own. it’s more entertaining.”

“you’re such a good friend,” gojo deadpans. sukuna shrugs. “i never said i wasn’t an asshole.” they go back to throwing the football. the fire pops and spits. and in the distance, choso passes the joint to you like he’s handing you a piece of himself. not a word spoken. just that same lazy, deliberate affection that drives you insane.

not quite enough, but still just enough to keep you here.

for now.

you slip away from the firelight without saying a word, your drink forgotten in the sand, music fading behind you as you wander toward the dunes.

he follows like he always does. doesn’t ask where you’re going. doesn’t need to.

the world feels softer out here, where the party is a dull hum and the moon hangs low over the ocean like it’s watching. your skin is warm from the fire and the drinks and his eyes, heavy on your back as you settle on the slope of a dune, dry grass brushing your bare legs.

choso sits behind you. doesn’t touch you at first. just passes you the joint, his fingers brushing yours like he doesn’t mean to. like it’s accidental. it never is. you take a slow drag, eyes on the black water in the distance. the kind of quiet settles over you that only ever exists with him. easy, full of things unsaid. always full of things unsaid.

he shifts closer. knees bumping. breath grazing your neck.

“cold?” he murmurs.

you shake your head, even though you kind of are. but he wraps an arm around your waist anyway, pulling you back against him. warm hoodie. bare legs across his. his chin finds your shoulder like muscle memory. you can feel his heartbeat against your spine. slow. steady. so fucking calm it drives you insane.

“you’re quiet tonight,” you say softly, voice barely louder than the wind. “so are you,” he says, and it’s not a deflection. it’s an observation. his fingers slip beneath the hem of your hoodie, warm against your skin. not in a sexual way. not yet. just grounding. just his hand resting there like it belongs.

you tilt your head and he takes the cue. kisses the side of your neck. slow, unhurried. his lips trail over your jaw like he’s done it a thousand times. because he has. but this time, he lingers. this time, he doesn’t stop. your fingers find the edge of his shirt, tug lightly. he shifts so he’s above you now, braced on his forearms in the sand, his hair falling forward to tickle your face. he looks at you like he’s stoned and dreaming.

maybe he is. you cup his jaw, thumb brushing that soft patch of skin beneath his lip. he kisses you like he’s never been in a rush in his life. slow. deep. lazy, but not careless. like he wants to make sure you feel every part of it. like this is the only thing tonight that he means.

your back arches under him. his hand slips beneath your thigh, fingers pressing into skin that’s still warm from the firelight, from his touch. the kiss deepens, turns a little messier, a little hungrier, but still never rushed. he tastes like weed and salt and something sweeter that’s just him.

he pulls back, barely, breath ragged. “you okay?” he asks, voice low and rough. you nod, lips parted, eyes on his. “want me to stop?” you shake your head.

his mouth curves into something almost like a smile. not all the way. just enough. he kisses you again, slower this time. less urgency, more meaning. like he’s trying to say everything he never does with his mouth instead. your fingers tangle in his hoodie. his hand spreads across your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer, like he wants to climb inside you just to be near your heartbeat. like closeness is the only language he’s fluent in.

and it’s not just sex. it never has been. not with him. this is what it always is—soft mouths, quiet hands, closeness that never gets named. something just shy of love. you don’t talk about it. you just kiss like maybe it’s enough. and maybe, tonight, it is.

he kisses you one last time, softer than the others, like he’s tucking something away. then he shifts, rolls off to lie beside you in the sand, hoodie bunched at his ribs, arm behind his head like nothing happened.

you stare at the stars. try to even your breathing. try not to think too hard about the way your lips still feel swollen, the way his hand had fit so perfectly behind your knee. “that was…” you start, then stop. instantly regret saying anything.

he hums, low in his throat. noncommittal. like he’s agreeing but not really engaging. like he knows what you meant but isn’t going to make it easy. silence stretches between you. not quite comfortable this time. not like before.

“your hoodie smells like weed and bonfire,” you say eventually, just to fill the air. “so do you,” he says, lazy. not even looking at you. you swallow. blink up at the sky.

“are we gonna talk about it?” the words slip out before you can stop them. his jaw tightens, just for a second. you catch it in the side of your vision. “talk about what?”

you shrug, try to make it light, like it doesn’t matter. like you didn’t just let him kiss you like he meant it. “this. whatever this is.” he takes a slow breath. the kind people take when they don’t want to lie but don’t want to tell the truth either.

“it’s whatever you want it to be,” he says finally, so quiet you almost miss it. your throat tightens. that’s the problem. it’s always been whatever you want. and you never say what you want. and he never asks again. “right,” you say, a little too fast. “cool.” you sit up, brush sand off your legs, avoid looking at him.

“we should go back,” you say. “people are probably wondering where we went.” he doesn’t move right away. just watches you, eyes unreadable in the dark. then he sits up too, pulls his hoodie straight, stands. you walk back together but not touching. not speaking.

his hand hovers near yours the whole time but never quite reaches. and you don’t ask why. you just let the pain in your chest eat you up from the inside out as you make your way back to the bonfire, greeted by gojo and yuki.

the fire’s burning hotter than before when you make it back. someone’s thrown more logs on it, and the flames lick high into the night, casting everyone in gold and shadow. gojo spots you first, sitting crisscross in the sand with a red solo cup balanced on his knee and a bottle of tequila in his lap.

“look who finally decided to rejoin society,” he grins. “get over here, slut, we’re playing truth or dare.” you laugh despite yourself, letting the rest of the group pull you in. yuki scoots to make space, draping an arm around your shoulders, already three drinks in and glowing like mischief incarnate. “you missed nanami getting dared to do a shot off haibara’s stomach. tragic.”

“and he actually did it,” shoko adds dryly from across the circle, holding a cigarette like a wine glass. “he’s so real for that.” you let yourself settle in, take the cup someone hands you, ignore how your heart still beats unevenly in your chest. choso’s a few feet away, sitting on a driftwood log, blunt in one hand and a half-empty bottle of something dark in the other. he’s slouched low, legs spread, hoodie falling off one shoulder. eyes half-lidded, mouth slack.

you glance at him. he doesn’t look back. you look away. “okay,” gojo claps once, way too loud. “truth or dare, y/n.” you raise a brow. “we’re just starting with me?”

“you disappeared for like thirty minutes,” he says, waggling his brows. “gotta make up for lost time.” you sigh dramatically. “fine. truth.”

“ooooh,” yuki coos. “boring.”

“shut up,” you mutter, but you’re laughing. gojo leans forward, blue eyes gleaming. “if you had to kiss someone in this circle right now, who would it be?”

groans echo around the fire. you make a show of looking around, tapping your finger to your chin. “hmmm… probably yuki.”

“coward!” gojo shouts. “hot,” shoko says at the same time. “kiss her then,” sukuna smirks from across the flames. you raise your cup in mock salute.

“haibara,” yuki says, pointing at him with a wicked grin. “truth or dare?”

“truth,” he says too fast, already blushing “what’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever said during sex?” the group erupts, groaning, laughing, shoko immediately choking on her drink.

“you’re evil,” haibara says, clutching his chest. while he fumbles through a mortifying story about calling someone “milady” mid-hookup, your gaze drifts—just for a second—across the fire.

choso’s leaning back against the log now, body heavy, hoodie pushed halfway off one shoulder. his cup is empty. the blunt that had been passed around earlier is down to the filter in his fingers. he’s not saying anything, just watching the flames, face slack and unreadable.

he’s wasted.

not just high, not just tipsy—gone in that quiet, slippery way he gets when he doesn’t want to talk. eyes half-shut. jaw loose. totally somewhere else. you don’t clock it fully, not yet. not with yuki howling beside you and gojo still hanging off your back like an overgrown child.

“milady??” gojo cries, throwing his head back. “nah, jail. straight to jail.” the circle bursts into laughter again. you smile, distracted. choso doesn’t. he's way too off his face to even think properly, and when he was like this, he was very impressionable.

“next round.”

the game rolls on. someone dares toji to shotgun a beer with no hands (he does it without blinking). haibara is dared to say the filthiest thing he’s ever googled (he refuses, gets booed). yuki chooses dare, ends up giving shoko a lap dance that has geto raising his eyebrows and muttering something about needing a cigarette.

then gojo turns to you again, eyes sharp. “truth or dare, y/n.” you smirk. “dare.”

“yes,” he hisses. “okay. i dare you to sit on someone’s lap for the next two rounds.”

“jesus christ,” you mutter. “don’t act shy now,” yuki laughs. “just pick your victim.”

your eyes skim the circle. your gaze flicks to choso’s spot.

it’s... empty?

the log is bare. the bottle’s gone. the blunt’s out. no sign of him.

you blink.

when did he leave?

you hesitate too long and gojo grins wider. “need help choosing?” you huff and drop yourself in his lap, just to shut him up. he yells, triumphant, wrapping his arms around your waist like a wrestling belt. “ladies and gentlemen, i am blessed.”

“you’re a menace,” you say, trying not to laugh as he leans into it, chin on your shoulder, theatrically sighing. you stay there for two rounds, as ordered. it’s stupid and warm and kind of perfect. yuki flicks bottle caps at you, toji starts telling a story no one believes, and the fire cracks and spits into the night like it’s trying to keep up with everyone’s energy.

but underneath all of it, a small thought needles at you.

'where the hell did choso go?'

you don’t say it out loud. you just smile and laugh and sip your drink. pretend not to feel the hole that opened beside you when he left.

the firelight dances over everyone’s faces, laughter and music mingling with the smell of salt and smoke. you can still taste tequila on your lips, hear gojo’s ridiculous jokes echoing over the waves. everyone’s caught up in the moment, gojos still relishing in the fact you're in his lap, nanamis still scowling at yuki for being so loud, but your mind drifts back to choso.

you last saw him sitting with you guys around the fire. something aches in your chest at the memory—like you should have stayed closer, made sure he was okay. instead you laughed with yuki, played along with gojo’s dumb dares, tried to forget. forget the akward moment the two of you shared before all of this.

visibly, you were upset. anyone could see you were looking for choso, it was just what you did.

but then you catch sukuna’s eye from across the circle. he’s staring where you are, face unreadable under the flicker of flame. with a stern look in his eyes that almost screams 'i'm sorry' he points his chin toward the bar with a slow nod. you frown—why is sukuna looking at you like that? it’s a silent invitation to look back. you shift uncomfortably in gojo’s lap. he snickers, but you barely hear him.

“you good?” he asks, eyebrows raised. you force a smile, head shaking. “yeah. just… saw something.” you shrug it off and stand unsteadily—two drinks plus who knows how many hits of blunt doesn’t mix well with sand.

you push through the circle of friends, “i’m just gonna grab another drink,” you tell gojo, but you don’t reach for the cooler. instead you make your way toward where sukuna pointed. the makeshift bar is a low wooden plank on cinder blocks, empty bottles strewn at its feet. choso is there, only he’s not alone.

you catch the last line of a slurred sentence—“what, i can't even see your face right now i'm so fucked up—” and see him pressing his mouth against a girl’s in a sloppy, desperate kiss. her arms are around his neck, and she’s pulling him closer. she’s pretty in that sorority way, wavy hair and cheap sundress, someone you barely know. neither of them notices you. his hoodie is off, draped on the back of the barstool. he’s shirtless except for a half-unbuttoned flannel, and you can see the way his chest rises and falls, uneven. he smells of weed and booze and regret you haven’t even registered yet.

your heart collapses before you even process what’s happening. he’s never done this. he’s never gone past a little throat-clearing and some conversation when other girls flirted. he never let things escalate. but here he is, his lips smashed against another girl’s, fingers tangled in her hair. he’s too drunk to pull away. it’s not just a flirt or a laugh-by; it’s something messy.

you step closer, frozen. your mouth goes dry. you hear someone call your name from the fire circle, yuki’s voice, but you can’t answer. your breath catches when choso’s gaze flickers away from the girl’s mouth. his eyes widen for half a second when he sees you, and then he panics.

he pushes the girl off him. she stumbles back, startled, and you feel a sharp pang for her, too, she was probably just playing the game like everyone else. his hands tremble as he reaches for her, swaying on his feet. the girl backs away, wiping lipstick off her mouth, then walks off into the dark, leaving choso standing there alone with his shirt hanging open.

he turns to you, lashes drooping. his voice slurs: “y/n, shit, i—”

you can’t hear the rest. you can’t even breathe. everything goes quiet except for the pounding in your ears. tears burn behind your eyes. you feel goosebumps prick your skin even though it’s warm. your legs quake. how could he do this to you? he’s never done this to you. he’s never shown any sign of wanting someone else like this. he’s always been so… lazy, but at least he never burned you like this.

you open your mouth, wanting to scream something, but the only sound that comes out is a ragged whisper: “cho…” the name catches in your throat like a curse. he steps forward, but you step back.

“i didn’t—i didn’t mean it—” he stammers, palms raised, his voice thick. “she just—was right there, and i—”

his words make no sense. they never do when he’s this fucked up. you’ve seen him high and you’ve seen him drunk, but never this wasted. his eyes are unfocused, his cheeks flushed. he’s tripping over himself, trying to explain. trying to fix something you don’t know can be fixed.

“are you for real right now?” you finally rasp, voice cracking. “are you fucking kidding me?”

he blinks, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. his hands drop to his sides. he sways a little, like his body is untethered from his mind. “y/n, ma, i’m sorry. i’m—shit.”

you step back even further, your hands coming up to cover your face. you don’t want him to see you cry, but you can’t stop the tears. they fall hot down your cheeks. your whole chest aches. the world tilts sideways. you feel like you’re drowning under the weight of it.

he reaches out, hesitates, then drops his arm. “i’m—I was just—”

you slash a hand through your hair. “just, just what? just what, choso? you’re never ‘just’ anything with me. you know that.”

he swallows hard. his throat moves, and you can see his Adam’s apple bobbing. fuck, you always notice. fuck, you hate how much you notice. “i was—i got too high. too drunk. i wasn’t thinking.”

you laugh—bitter, broken. “thinking? you weren’t thinking before either. you never think. but at least before, you didn’t do this.”

he recoils as if your words burn him. his shoulders slump. “you—i’m an asshole, i know.”

“you’re more than an asshole.” the words are sharp, pulsing. “you’re a fucking cunt. you don’t even know what you want.”

he flinches, but push comes from his chest. “that’s not true—”

“no?” you whisper, voice trembling. “so you do want her? is that it? maybe you want a real girlfriend? this is what you want?”

he looks away. his jaw tightens. he runs a hand through his hair, tangling his fingers. he closes his eyes. “i don’t know what i want.”

you feel a fresh wave of hurt, like acid in your bones. “exactly. you don’t know. but you sure know how to use me until you’re bored.”

his head shoots up like he’s been stabbed. his eyes slide to yours, glossy. “i—”

“stop,” you choke out. “just stop.”

he blinks again, tears forming too. you can see how much he’s struggling to keep it together. he opens his mouth to say something, but instead he coughs, draws in a shaking breath, lets it out. his voice is quiet and ragged and real: “i’m so sorry.”

it’s the rawest thing you’ve ever heard from him. but you don’t let yourself believe it. not yet. you can tell by the way he’s stumbling, slurring around his words, he means it in the moment—because he’s too high to lie. but as soon as tomorrow comes, will he remember? will he care?

“i’m fucked up,” he confesses, voice breaking. “i know—i know i fucked up. i—i hate myself so much right now.”

you see it in his eyes: he’s so deep down, he can’t fix this. he knows he’s fucked, but that doesn’t help you. it’s just another confession that puts your heart on a slanted knife. you’re trembling—anger and heartbreak twisting in your gut.

“you hate yourself?” you repeat, voice hollow. “you should.”

he flinches again, then steps toward you slowly, as if wading through quicksand. “look. i'm sorry, i am. i... fuck me bro i don't know how to talk about this right now give me a break.”

“too late,” you spit, stepping around him as if he’s diseased.

he reaches out, then drops his arm again, like he can’t even touch you. “y/n—please.”

you can’t look at him anymore. you feel something hard and cold snap inside you. “i want you to leave,” you say, voice low and controlled. “leave me alone.”

for a moment he just stands there, looking at you like he’s seeing the end of something he didn’t realize was real. then he turns away, unsteady. you watch his shoulders shake. you can’t tell if he’s about to cry or puke.

he staggers toward the dunes, disappearing into the dark. you don’t follow. you don’t want to watch. you sink to the ground in front of the bar, knees up to your chest, arms wrapped around them. the firelight feels harsh, like it’s burning you. you press your face into your knees, let the tears fall freely. you feel everything—anger, sadness, shame, confusion—raw and jagged.

you don’t know how long you sit there before someone touches your shoulder. you look up to see yuki crouched beside you, eyes wide with concern.

“y/n?” she whispers. “are you okay?”

you shake your head, voice lost somewhere in your chest. “i can’t,” you choke out. “i can’t.”

she wraps her arms around you. you let her hold you, even though it feels like admitting defeat. the party rages on behind you, music thumping, friends oblivious or perhaps just giving you space. the waves crash somewhere beyond the fire, steady and indifferent.

you think of choso out there, stumbling over sand, alone. you think of the regret in his eyes, how you saw it plain as day. you think of how you loved him in silence for so long, and now his mistake has ripped that away.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper into yuks’s shoulder, though you don’t know if you’re apologizing to her, to yourself, or to him. the tears won’t stop. your heart feels hollow, like the tide has taken a piece of you out to sea.

and somewhere in the dark, choso probably crumbles, realizing he’s lost you. you want to hate him for that, but you can’t. you just want to bury yourself until this night never happened.

choso’s head felt like a fucking drumline was marching through it, each beat sharper and heavier than the last. the sun stabbed through the blinds in long, cruel fingers and the stale smell of smoke clung to the air like a bad hangover perfume. he blinked, slow, trying to remember where the hell he was. the frat house. alpha phi. his bed. but how the fuck did he get there?

his mouth was dry and tasted like burnt rubber, throat raw and sore. he propped himself up on one elbow, the room spinning slightly. he groaned low, the motion making his head pound harder. last night was a blur—faint memories flickered like a broken film reel. laughter, firelight, the crash of waves, the weight of someone in his arms, then flashes of something else, something he didn’t want to remember.

the door creaked open. sukuna stepped in, calm and precise as always, but the usual mischief in his eyes was replaced by something colder, sharper.

“you’re up,” sukuna said, voice low and steady. he didn’t smile. that was the first warning.

choso rubbed his face with both hands, trying to piece it together. “sukuna. how the fuck did i get home?”

“i carried you,” sukuna said flatly. “passed out face-first in the sand behind the bar. someone had to get you the hell out of there before you died or embarrassed yourself worse.”

choso groaned again, sinking back onto the mattress. “shit…”

“yeah, shit,” sukuna muttered, pacing the room with slow, deliberate steps. he sat on the edge of choso’s bed, leaning forward. “you fucked up, man.”

choso’s eyes narrowed. “i know.”

“you don’t,” sukuna said sharply, almost like he was frustrated by his own words. “you really fucked up. and you’re about to find out how bad it is." sukuna says, leaning back and letting out a breath. “you fucked up so bad, choso. you—” he leans forward again, voice low and dangerous, “—you really fucked up.”

“god...” choso muttered, feeling the weight crash down on him like a tidal wave. guilt spread through his chest, thick and heavy. he felt sick, the kind of sick that wasn’t just from booze or weed.

sukuna’s voice cut through the fog. “you’re a goddamn idiot for letting it happen. you’re not the type, not really. you’ve always had some stupid line you wouldn’t cross, but last night you trampled all over it like it didn’t matter.”

choso looked up, voice raw. “i didn’t mean to.”

“no shit,” sukuna said, but his tone wasn’t mocking. it was serious, almost like a warning from a friend who gives no fucks about sugarcoating.

choso swallowed hard. the knot in his stomach tightened. “fuck. i didn’t want this.”

“doesn’t matter what you want.” sukuna’s eyes bore into him. “you had her, you had this whole fucking thing that was more than a hookup but less than a relationship, and you threw it away.”

choso’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “i’m so fucked.”

“yeah. you are. you wanna know why?” sukuna leaned back, shaking his head. “because she didn’t deserve it. she’s been holding her shit together around you while you got high and drunk and let some other girl get what she’s been waiting for. and now she’s gonna hurt. and you’re gonna have to watch.”

chosо runs a shaky hand through his undone hair. the memory clicks into place like a hammer to his skull: the girl’s lips on his, the way he’d lost himself in a haze of substance and needed something familiar, something warm, so he’d found the first person who was breathing close. he feels bile rise in his throat. “i didn’t mean to,” he whispers. “i wasn’t thinking.”

“bullshit,” sukuna snaps, voice surprisingly loud in the small room. “you were drunk, yeah. you were high, yeah. but you were coherent enough to know that wasn't y/n.”

chosо flinches. the memory of slurred words pours into his mind—words he wishes he could swallow back into oblivion. he touches his lips, damp with saliva now. “fuck, y/n,” he breathes, and his chest caves in.

“you do realize what you did?” sukuna demands. he stands, pacing the length of the room, hands curled into fists. “you humiliated her. you broke her heart. and y/n… y/n’s been your ride-or-die since freshman year. hell, she’s been in love with you since day one.” chosо winces. he closes his eyes, vision blurring. “i know.”

“no, you don’t know.” sukuna’s tone shifts, angrier now. “you have no fucking idea. you let her believe your fucked-up silence was affection. you let her walk around telling everyone you were hers and she was yours. you let her think you cared about her. now you’ve gone and spat on that trust.”

choso’s eyes flutter open. he’s sweating, although the room is cool. “i—i know i’m an asshole.” his voice cracks. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.”

sukuna stops pacing and squares his shoulders. he stares at choso like he’s looking through him, like he can see every flawed cell. “i’m not here to hear you say sorry. do you know why?”

chosо shakes his head, staring down at his hands. “because it doesn’t fix anything?”

“exactly.” sukuna folds his arms, voice shaking with a quiet intensity. “saying sorry doesn’t undo the damage. saying sorry doesn’t un-break her heart. saying sorry doesn’t make her forget watching you with someone else. saying sorry doesn’t bring her back to you.”

choso feels his chest tighten until he can hardly breathe. “i know.”

“do you know what she’ll do now?” sukuna asks, stepping closer, gaze piercing. “do you know she’ll pretend she’s okay? do you know she’ll crash and burn from the inside out because she can’t handle facing you?”

chosо just looks at the floor. tears burn back behind his eyes. he feels like he’s been punched too many times to count. “i don’t deserve her.”

“no shit,” sukuna says softly, then shakes his head. “and that’s the problem. you think you don’t. so you never mess up your lazy routine of smoking and half-assing everything. but this isn’t just half-assing. this is destroying someone you used to claim you cared about.”

his voice cracks. for a moment, choso thinks sukuna might cry. instead, he turns away and stalks toward the door. “i’m done here. get your shit together, cho. learn how to be a man. learn how to say no. learn how to keep your mouth shut when you know saying something will ruin everything. and for god’s sake, figure out what you want before you ruin the next person who loves you.”

he swings the door open and pauses. “and if you ever look at her again like nothing happened, i will personally drag you out of this room and force you to tell her everything you feel. got it?”

chosо nods slowly, unable to trust his voice. sukuna leaves without another word, closing the door with a final click.

he sinks back onto the mattress, head spinning. he slides down until his back presses against the cool wall. tears finally slip free and track down his cheeks. he presses his face into his knees, breathing hard. guilt slams into him like a freight train—so overwhelming he can’t think how to make it stop. he hates himself for hurting y/n. hates himself for being too lazy to say no earlier, for being too cowardly to have the difficult conversation before he got wasted. hated himself for believing he could keep using her heart like it was just another spare, something he could pick up and toss aside.

“so then i said, ‘professor, with all due respect, you can’t assign a 3k essay during finals week and also expect me to be sober.’”

you snort, biting back a grin as gojo throws his arm dramatically over his chest like he’s just taken a bullet. the two of you are walking past the library, sunlight flickering through the trees, heat radiating off the pavement in lazy waves. it should feel like freedom—finals are done, summer’s coming, everyone else is already half-drunk on the taste of no responsibilities.

but your chest is heavy.

you don’t say anything. you just keep walking, nodding along to gojo’s ridiculous story about submitting a paper with a meme in the bibliography.

he’s doing a good job of keeping it light, you’ll give him that. he always does. it’s like he knew you didn’t want to talk about last night—knew you needed distraction, not comfort. jokes, not pity.

“anyway, the TA gave me a seventy-two, which is basically a love letter. should i text her or is that inappropriate?”

“definitely text her,” you say, trying to sound amused. “start with ‘hey, baby. your academic standards are low, and so are mine.’”

gojo clutches his chest again. “y/n, you complete me.”

you smile. or at least you try to.

and then you feel it. not the sun. not the warmth of gojo’s voice. something colder. sharper.

you look up—and there he is.

choso.

he’s across the quad, walking toward the science building with his hoodie pulled up even though it’s too warm for it, and a plastic cup of coffee clenched in his hand. you don’t think he’s seen you at first—he’s walking slow, like his body hasn’t caught up with his brain, like he’s still in last night. his eyes are sunken, skin pale, mouth downturned. he looks like hell. like regret.

and then his gaze lifts. and meets yours. everything halts.

his steps slow. his grip on the cup tightens just slightly, enough to make the lid shift. his whole face stills, mouth parting a little like he might say something, even from this distance.

you stop too. mid-stride. your stomach clenches.

it lasts only a second. maybe two. but it stretches, long and loud and tense. like the entire campus is holding its breath.

you can’t look away from him.

and then he blinks. looks down. keeps walking.

you let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. force your legs to move again.

gojo doesn’t say anything for a moment. doesn’t joke. doesn’t tease. just lets you walk beside him in silence until your fingers curl at your sides, and you have to ask.

“did he look at me?”

gojo sighs, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “like you hung the fucking moon.”

you swallow hard.

“he looks like shit,” you mumble.

“yeah. guilt’s not a great moisturizer.”

you let out a small, bitter laugh. “fuck. this is so embarrassing.”

“it’s not embarrassing, y/n. he’s the one who kissed someone else.”

you blink back the sting at the edges of your eyes and shake your head. “we weren’t even… anything.”

gojo stops walking. turns to face you, squinting against the sunlight. “don’t do that.”

you furrow your brows. “do what?”

“pretend it didn’t mean something. like it wasn’t real just because no one put a label on it. i know it’s easier that way, but it’s not the truth.”

you hate how gentle his voice is. how nonchalant he normally is, and how careful he’s being now. it makes it worse. it makes it real.

“i just…” you start, but the words die on your tongue. “i don’t know what to do.”

gojo shrugs, soft. “you don’t have to do anything.”

you blink.

“seriously,” he says. “you don’t owe him your forgiveness. or your rage. you don’t have to figure it out today. you can just be pissed. or sad. or numb. it’s allowed.”

you look down at your shoes. at the way the sunlight splashes across the concrete in broken gold.

you think about last night. about the way choso looked at you before he stumbled off behind the makeshift bar. about how you didn’t notice he was gone. about sukuna’s warning glance. about the girl’s hands in choso’s hair. about the way he couldn’t even string a sentence together. about the way your heart cracked in real time, like glass under pressure. quiet, and then all at once.

you wonder if he remembers it. if it keeps replaying in his head the way it’s stuck in yours.

you wonder if he’s sorry. not just in his body language. not just in the way he looked at you like he was drowning. but really sorry. the kind you say out loud.

gojo nudges your shoulder. “come on. let’s go get lunch before i start crying in public.”

you nod, wordless, and let him steer you toward the student union building. but as you walk, you can still feel it—that moment of eye contact, lodged somewhere between your ribs.

it hurts in ways you didn’t know silence could.

you sighed as gojo pulled you along beside him out of your thoughts. you’re now sitting on the edge of a bench outside the arts building, chin in your hand, barely paying attention to the slow trickle of students passing by. it’s too nice of a day to be sulking, but that hasn’t stopped you before.

gojo plops down beside you like he’s got springs in his joints, letting out an exaggerated sigh as if he’sthe one emotionally hungover from your situationship unraveling in public.

“you know what your problem is?” he says, already grinning.

you glance sideways at him, unimpressed. “no, but i’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“you need to get drunk and reckless and do something stupid. preferably at my place, tomorrow night, very exclusive. i’m inviting you, which means you’re special.”

you raise a brow. “is it really exclusive if you’re inviting the whole campus?”

“shhh,” he hushes, waving a hand. “don’t ruin the illusion. i’m curating vibes, not sending out mass texts.”

you pause, fingers picking at the frayed seam of your sleeve. “i don’t know, satoru…”

“oh, come on.” he leans in closer, drops his voice just enough to make it conspiratorial. “you show up lookin’ hot, drink my alcohol, dance a little, maybe flirt with someone who doesn’t make out with random sorority girls while cross-faded. total healing.”

you snort, despite yourself. “that’s your solution to heartbreak? tequila and objectification?”

“babe, i’ve seen worse coping mechanisms. plus,” he adds, nudging you with his shoulder, “it’s me. you know it’ll be fun.”

you let the silence stretch for a beat, eyes flicking out toward the courtyard. the weight in your chest hasn’t lifted—not really—but it feels a little less suffocating around gojo. he’s good at that. distracting you without making you talk about it.

finally, you shrug. “fine. i’ll come.”

“yes!” he pumps his fist dramatically. “dress code is ‘make your ex cry,’ by the way.”

you roll your eyes, but a real smile tugs at the corners of your mouth. “you’re the worst.”

“and yet, somehow, still your favorite.”

you don’t argue. maybe he’s right. maybe a party is exactly what you need. or maybe it’s just easier to dance through the ache than sit in it.

either way—you’re going.

"alright."

the bass is already rattling the windows when you step up to gojo’s front porch. the door’s wide open, light and heat spilling out into the night like the house itself is breathing. you can hear laughter, the clink of bottles, someone yelling about beer pong in the backyard.

you take a breath, adjust the strap of your top, and step inside.

the place is packed. bodies everywhere, music thumping through the floorboards, the air thick with sweat and smoke and something sweetly chemical. you’re barely two steps in before someone presses a red cup into your hand.

“look who finally showed up,” yuki grins, appearing at your side like she’s been waiting for you. she’s in a black crop top and ripped jeans, glitter dusted across her collarbones. “damn, you look hot.”

you laugh, a little breathless. “thanks. you too.”

“obviously,” she smirks. “come on, let’s find sukuna before he starts a fight.”

you follow her through the crowd, weaving between clusters of people, dodging elbows and spilled drinks. the living room’s a mess—couch cushions on the floor, someone dancing on the coffee table, a couple making out against the wall like they’re the only two people in the world.

and then you see him.

choso.

he’s slouched on the couch in the corner, hood up, eyes half-lidded. there’s a joint between his fingers, a bottle of something dark on the floor by his feet. he looks like he hasn’t slept in days. his gaze flicks up, meets yours for a split second, and then drops back to the joint.

your stomach twists.

“don’t,” yuki says, catching your arm. “he’s not your problem tonight.”

you nod, swallowing hard, and let her pull you away.

in the kitchen, sukuna’s leaning against the counter, shirt unbuttoned, tattoos peeking out from beneath the fabric. he raises an eyebrow when he sees you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“well, well,” he drawls. “look who decided to grace us with her presence.”

“don’t start,” you warn, but there’s no heat in your voice.

“start what?” he feigns innocence, pushing off the counter to stand in front of you. “i’m just appreciating the view.”

yuki rolls her eyes. “you’re such a slut.”

“takes one to know one,” he shoots back, winking at her.

you laugh, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

“come on,” sukuna says, grabbing a bottle from the counter. “let’s get you a real drink.”

he pours you something strong and sweet, the alcohol burning a trail down your throat. you take another sip, letting the warmth settle in your belly.

“so,” sukuna says, leaning in close. “how’ve you been?”

you shrug. “surviving.”

“that’s all anyone can ask for,” he nods.

“listen,” sukuna says, voice a little lower, a little more serious, “i talked to choso.”

your hand pauses halfway to your mouth, red cup hovering in the air. you don’t look at him, not yet.

you just go, “yeah?”

he nods once, slow. then, after a beat: “the night of the beach party. i drove him home.”

you finally glance up.

he’s not wearing the usual smirk. no teasing, no smugness—just sukuna with his jaw clenched a little too tight and his eyes sharp with something you don’t usually see on his face. concern, maybe. or regret, even though this isn’t his thing to regret.

“he was out of it,” sukuna says. “like, properly fucked up. couldn’t walk straight. slurring all over the place. when i found him behind the bar, i thought he was gonna hurl on that girl’s face.”

your stomach flips.

“he kept saying your name,” sukuna goes on. “like, in between trying to light a joint with the wrong end of a lighter. just kept saying it. over and over. sometimes like he was pissed at himself. sometimes like he was scared you’d left already.”

you don’t say anything.

you just keep staring at the edge of the countertop like if you look hard enough, it’ll swallow you whole.

“i sat him in the car,” sukuna says, softer now. “he couldn’t even get the fucking door open. just slumped in the seat and stared out the window the whole drive. i don’t think he even knew i was there. and then he said—”

he cuts himself off, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek.

you glance at him. “he said what?”

sukuna’s eyes flick to yours. something unreadable flickers there.

“he said, ‘she’s not gonna look at me the same,’” sukuna mutters. “‘i ruined it.’”

your throat closes.

he shrugs, like he’s trying to keep it casual, like he hasn’t just torn a hole in your chest.

your heart is beating in your ears now, too loud, too fast. the crowd, the music, the whole fucking house feels like it’s underwater. like you’re moving through molasses.

sukuna leans his elbows back on the counter, watching you.

“look,” he says, voice calm but firm, “i’m not saying this to excuse what he did. he fucked up. and not just at the party. i mean all of it. the way he lets girls talk to him like he’s not taken. the way he never says shit when they flirt. the way he lets you hurt in silence because he’s too fucking lazy to figure out what he wants.”

your jaw tightens.

“but i know choso,” sukuna adds. “he doesn’t care about them. any of them. he never even touches them, not really. not until that night, and even then—it was like he didn’t even know what he was doing. like he was trying to prove something. or forget something.”

you whisper, “me.”

sukuna looks at you.

you don’t mean to say it. it just slips out. soft. sad. pathetic, maybe. but it’s true.

“he was trying to forget me.”

sukuna doesn’t argue.

he doesn’t need to.

because you both know it’s true. that when choso’s world got too full of you, too sharp, too terrifying, he tried to blur it out. the way he always does—getting high, getting drunk, fucking off his feelings until he could float above them.

except he couldn’t. not this time.

“he looked wrecked when he woke up,” sukuna says, his voice gentler now. “like he wanted to peel his own skin off. he couldn’t even look at me. just sat on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.”

you blink, slow.

“he knows he fucked up, y/n.”

you close your eyes.

it hurts. it still fucking hurts. even knowing all of this. even hearing the guilt in secondhand words. it doesn’t undo the image burned into your brain—choso, kissing someone else. his hands on someone who wasn’t you. his mouth where only yours should’ve been.

and worse, knowing he knew what he was doing. that even if he regretted it, he still let it happen.

because what the fuck did that mean about you?

sukuna watches you a moment longer before nudging your cup with the back of his hand.

“drink,” he says. “you deserve to have a good time.”

you nod. you drink. it burns.

“just—” sukuna pauses. “don’t let him take up your whole head tonight, alright?”

you try to smile. “i’ll try.”

he leans in, his grin returning, just a bit. “i mean, worst case scenario? you can always rebound with me.”

you roll your eyes, snort softly, but the ache in your chest has shifted just a little.

it’s still there, still sharp, but now you know it’s not just you who’s hurting.

and somehow, that makes it worse.

and better.

all at once.

the bass hits you in the chest the second you step back into the living room.

you throw your head back, laugh bubbling out, drink still cold in your hand as yuki grabs your wrist and spins you into the circle forming near the coffee table. the lights are low and golden, the air thick with weed and heat and breathless voices. bodies are everywhere—lounging, grinding, tangled limbs on couches and in corners—but all you care about is the way your friends are looking at you like you’re electric.

“you’re a menace tonight,” gojo yells over the music, grinning so wide you can’t help but laugh.

“finally!” yuki shouts, raising her drink. “she’s letting loose. it’s about fucking time.”

toji’s watching you from his place on the arm of the couch, lips curled into the barest smirk. “is this her trying to pretend choso isn't a thing anymore?”

“she’s earned it,” shiu says, eyes glittering as he hands you another drink. “cheers to heartbreak and hedonism.”

you take it. you take all of it. the laughter, the dancing, the teasing. it doesn’t fix anything, but it lets you forget. even if just for a little while.

you let go.

you dance with yuki like no one’s watching, her arms slung over your shoulders as she mouths the lyrics to a song you don’t even know. toji moves with lazy precision beside you both, rolling a joint one-handed. gojo grabs your other hand and spins you, dramatic and ridiculous, until you’re dizzy from more than the alcohol. shiu throws a pillow at him and the whole room erupts into chaotic laughter.

someone pulls out a disposable camera. you pose in yuki’s lap, fingers in a peace sign, tongue out. someone snaps a picture of you and gojo fake-kissing just to piss people off. you feel blurry and beautiful and wanted.

the floor shifts beneath your feet. the lights swirl. everything smells like weed, cologne, sweat, spilt beer.

you’ve never felt more untouchable.

until you realize you really need to pee.

“bathroom,” you shout into yuki’s ear, who nods and swats your ass like she’s sending you off into battle. you weave through the living room, slipping past elbows and shoulders and breathless giggles. the hallway’s darker, quieter, like stepping into a different world.

you turn the corner—

—and there he is.

choso.

leaning against the wall just past the bathroom door. hoodie half-on, hair falling in front of his eyes, red solo cup dangling forgotten from his fingers. solemn. still. like a ghost in the middle of the party.

your breath catches in your throat.

he lifts his head.

his eyes meet yours.

and just like that, the whole party fades away.

no music. no shouting. no laughter or bodies or haze of weed curling in the air. just you and him, standing in the soft hallway light like ghosts who forgot they were alive. frozen. held in place by the weight of something too big to look at directly.

you don’t say anything. neither does he.

it’s all there in the air between you—heavy, aching, unfinished.

choso’s eyes flicker down, like it hurts to hold your gaze for too long. he swallows, thumb nervously rubbing the side of the plastic cup. there’s a tremble to the way he exhales. not drunk, not high—not like before. just scared. tired. stripped of all the usual defenses.

and then, finally, he speaks.

“i’m sorry.”

two words. small. fragile. like he’s been carrying them around too long and now they barely hold their shape.

you blink. your heart stutters in your chest.

he doesn’t wait for you to say anything. he can’t. the words are already spilling.

“i was—i was so fucking out of my head that night,” he says, voice low and wrecked. “i don’t even know how it happened. i didn’t—i didn’t want her. it didn’t mean anything. i wasn’t thinking. i just… i wasn’t here.”

he runs a hand through his hair, dragging it back, breathing like the air hurts to take in.

“and that’s not an excuse. i know that. i know that doesn’t make it okay. but i need you to know—it was never supposed to be anyone else. it’s always been you.”

your chest tightens.

“even if we weren’t, like—together,” he says, softer now. “even if we never called it anything. it’s you. it’s always been you.”

you swallow hard, the ache catching at the back of your throat.

“i didn’t say anything that night because i didn’t know how,” he murmurs. “i thought… i thought i’d ruined it for good. and maybe i did. but i swear to god, i’ve never regretted something more in my entire life.”

he finally meets your eyes again.

“i hurt you. i know that. and if you never want to talk to me again, i get it. but i had to say this. i had to tell you. because pretending like i didn’t care was the worst thing i’ve ever done.”

you don’t even realize you’re crying until the warmth touches your cheek.

“you mean everything to me,” he says, like it’s a confession. “and i’m so fucking sorry.”

and for the first time in weeks, he looks like himself again.

not the broken boy on the couch, not the too-stoned mess at the beach, not the ghost you keep locking eyes with across a room. just choso. your choso. tired, hurting, but finally honest.

you don’t say anything right away.

because what is there to say to something like that?

you just look at him. and he looks at you. and the silence doesn’t feel so heavy this time. it feels… suspended. fragile. like if either of you moves too fast, it might all disappear.

but for the first time in what feels like forever, the space between you feels open again.

like maybe something could grow there. if you let it.

you look at him.

really look.

and you think about all the nights you spent tangled up in him—his skin warm against yours, his mouth pressed to the hollow of your throat, the sound of his voice all low and wrecked when he said your name like it was the only thing he could hold onto.

you think about the way he’d pull you closer after, like he couldn’t stand the distance. the way he’d brush the hair out of your face, whisper dumb shit that made you laugh into his neck.

how even when you weren’t having sex, you were still wrapped around each other—on his bed, on your couch, in the backseat of someone’s car, high out of your minds and half-asleep but still reaching for each other without thinking.

like magnets. like instinct. like he was home and he didn’t even know it.

you remember the way he’d kiss your shoulder in the dark. soft. almost careful. like he didn’t want to wake you, like maybe even then he was scared to admit how badly he needed you.

you remember thinking— 'maybe he’ll say something this time.'

and then he wouldn’t. and you’d just stay there in the silence, curled into him, heart beating way too loud for a girl who wasn’t supposed to feel anything.

but you did. of course you did.

and this—this moment, right now—was the one you’d imagined more times than you’d ever admit. him, finally saying it. the truth. not some half-joke or drunken almost-confession, but real, bare, bleeding honesty.

it’s always been you.

your throat tightens.

you’d hoped for this so many times. but not like this. not with your heart in pieces and mascara clinging to the corner of your lashes, not after all that damage.

not with that girl’s lipgloss still burned somewhere into your memory like a fucking scar.

but he’s here. and he’s saying it. and you can’t pretend it doesn’t matter.

you can’t pretend that those nights weren’t everything. that he wasn’t the only one who ever made you feel this full and this hollow, all at once.

your fingers twitch at your side, aching with the muscle memory of touching him.

but instead of moving, you just stand there. caught in the weight of it.

his apology. your history. everything you never said.

the hallway feels too quiet. your pulse, too loud.

and still, he waits.

like he knows this might be the only time you’ll let him say it. like he’s ready for whatever comes next—even if it’s nothing. even if it’s goodbye.

and maybe that’s what makes it hurt the most.

he’s finally giving you everything you wanted.

but now that it’s here, you don’t know if it’s enough.

he’s still looking at you like that.

like you’re it. like even if you walked away right now, he’d still wait.

and you’re still standing there like an idiot, heart too full, body too frozen, blinking through the blur of too much feeling.

then you move.

just a step. just one.

but it’s enough.

his face breaks when you do. not in a bad way. just—softens. like he can’t believe it. like something in him finally unclenches.

and before either of you can overthink it, you crash into each other.

arms around his shoulders. his around your waist.

no hesitation. no performance. no air between you.

you bury your face in his neck and just breathe.

and he laughs. a little broken, a little teary, like the sound gets caught in his throat halfway out.

“fuck,” he whispers, holding you tighter. “fuck, i missed you.”

you laugh too, because you don’t know what else to do, because it’s so stupid how long you went pretending this didn’t matter.

you squeeze him like you’ll fall apart if you don’t.

“you’re such an idiot,” you say into his skin. “you’re actually the dumbest person i’ve ever met.”

he laughs again, warm and quiet. you feel it vibrate through his chest.

“i know,” he mumbles. “i know.”

your fingers fist in the back of his shirt. his hand cups the back of your head. you stay there like that for a long time.

not speaking. just holding. just letting the ache bleed out slow.

“i thought i lost you,” he says into your hair, voice thick. “for real this time.”

you pull back just enough to look at him. eyes glossy. nose red. cheeks a little flushed.

you give him the softest smile you’ve ever worn.

“you didn’t,” you say. “not yet.”

and then he hugs you again. even tighter. like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you all over again.

you laugh against his neck, one hand slipping under the hem of his hoodie just to feel his skin, just to make sure he’s real.

“you always smell like weed,” you mumble.

“and you always smell like heaven,” he replies, without missing a beat.

you groan. “jesus christ.”

he grins into your hair. “too much?”

“way too much.”

but you’re smiling. you’re both smiling. and this—this doesn’t feel like a fix, not really.

but it feels like a beginning.

he doesn’t let go of your hand after that.

just keeps it tangled in his, like if he loses contact, the whole moment might vanish.

his thumb brushes over your knuckles as he walks you up the stairs, step by step, quiet except for the sound of music bleeding up from below and the creak of the old floorboards.

you’ve been up here a million times.

you know the way to his room like the back of your hand.

but this time feels different. slower. like neither of you want to break the spell.

he pushes open the door and lets you in first, and it’s the same as always—dim, messy, faint smell of weed and detergent. but something about the air feels heavier now.

like something’s finally about to change.

you stand there for a second. he closes the door behind you.

it clicks shut, and the silence settles around you both like fog.

you half-turn toward him, expecting him to reach for you like he always does. to kiss you, to push you gently back onto the bed, to start peeling off your clothes like second nature.

but he doesn’t.

he just looks at you. like he’s seeing you all over again.

like he’s remembering every late night, every laugh, every time you crawled into his lap just to feel close. every time you left in the morning and he wished you didn’t have to.

“can i—” he starts, then stops.

clears his throat. rubs the back of his neck, suddenly nervous.

“can i say something?”

you nod, heartbeat in your throat.

he steps closer. slow and careful.

not touching. not assuming. just… there.

“i know i don’t deserve anything from you,” he says quietly. “not after how bad i fucked it all up. not after that night.”

your breath catches.

“but i need you to know it’s never been anyone else. not really.”

his voice wavers, just a little. “even before we started… whatever this was. it was always you. it’s still you.”

your chest tightens. you look at him, and he’s so serious. so raw. so real in a way you haven’t seen in so long.

he swallows hard. steps a little closer.

“i don’t wanna keep pretending like we’re just friends who fuck. i don’t wanna keep hurting you just because i’m scared of calling it what it is.”

his voice drops, just a murmur.

“i want to be yours. if you’ll let me. for real this time.”

it hits you like a wave. a real, breath-stealing, chest-caving wave.

because this is what you always wanted.

not just the touching. not just the late nights and the secrets and the tension.

you wanted this. the honesty. the softness. the choice.

you don’t say anything right away. just step forward, slow and sure, until you’re in his space again. until your forehead rests gently against his.

you close your eyes.

“okay,” you whisper.

his breath hitches. “yeah?”

you nod. just once.

his hands come up, hold your waist like you’re fragile. like you’re something he’s afraid to break.

he doesn’t kiss you. not yet.

just pulls you into his chest and holds you.

quiet. steady. like he finally knows what he wants. and it’s this.

just this.

you.

his hands are warm on your waist, steady like they finally know where they belong.

you’re still pressed against his chest, arms wrapped loosely around him, heartbeat slowing to match his. the room’s quiet now, soft and golden in the low lamplight. like it’s holding space for this moment.

he pulls back just enough to see your face.

his eyes flick across it, like he’s memorizing every detail.

and then he says it. quietly. sincerely.

“i’m gonna take care of you.”

your breath stutters, but he keeps going.

“for real this time. not just when it’s convenient or easy. not just in private.”

his voice trembles a little, but he doesn’t stop.

“i’ll be there when you’re tired, when you’re pissed off at the world, when you’re sick, when you’re sad, when you don’t wanna talk and just need someone to sit with you.”

he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, so gently it makes your eyes sting.

“i’ll remember your coffee order. i’ll walk you to class when it rains. i’ll hold your bag while you try on shit at the mall and tell you you look hot in everything, even when you don’t believe me.”

a soft laugh breaks out of your chest—wet and breathless.

he smiles, but it’s soft around the edges, like he’s still afraid to fall apart.

“i know i don’t always say the right thing. or show shit the right way. but i’m gonna try. i’m gonna learnhow to love you the way you deserve. because you deserve everything.”

his thumb brushes your cheek, eyes fixed on yours.

“i love every single part of you. the loud parts. the quiet ones. the way you talk with your hands, and the way you tuck your knees up when you’re on the couch. the way you bite your lip when you’re trying not to cry, and how you laugh when you’re drunk.”

your chest twists, overwhelmed. his voice is low now, almost reverent.

“i love how smart you are. how you always know what people need before they say it. how you care too much, even when it hurts you. how you make everyone feel like they matter.”

you’re crying now, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. he cups your face in both hands.

“but more than anything, i love you. even when i didn’t know how to say it. even when i pretended it was nothing. it’s always been you.”

you blink up at him, breathing hard.

your voice shakes when you whisper, “choso…”

he leans in. kisses your forehead. your cheeks. the corner of your mouth.

“i love you,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

like it’s always been right there on the tip of his tongue.

“and i’m gonna be the best fucking boyfriend you’ve ever had. i promise.”

and somehow, you believe him.

because he means it. every fucking word.

the house is quiet now.

party debris litters the living room—empty solo cups, discarded hoodies, a half-eaten pizza box still open on the kitchen bench. someone’s shoe is on the stairs. no one knows whose.

gojo and sukuna are camped out on the back porch, slouched low in mismatched deck chairs, beers in hand. the moon’s high. the air’s still warm from the chaos earlier, thick with leftover smoke and the faint pulse of whatever playlist had been on repeat for six hours.

gojo stretches out his legs with a groan, tipping his head back.

“bro… my back hurts like i gave someone a piggyback through the trenches.”

sukuna doesn’t look up from his beer.

“you did. yuuji tackled you into the kiddie pool.”

“…oh. yeah.” he snorts. “that was kinda funny though.”

they sit in silence for a second, the good kind, broken only by the clink of their bottles when they sip.

then sukuna says it.

“so. you see choso and y/n disappear earlier?”

gojo grins. “upstairs?” he raises his eyebrows meaningfully. “yeah, i saw.”

sukuna huffs a small laugh. “fuckin’ finally, man. those two have been doing mental gymnastics around each other for like, what? a year?”

“a year and five months,” gojo corrects, holding up a finger. “i’ve been counting.”

sukuna gives him a look. “of course you have.”

“you know it’s bad when I noticed the emotional repression,” gojo says, tapping his temple. “like, i’m all for subtle pining, but watching those two was like… watching a slow car crash in a rom-com.”

“a rom-com where everyone’s too stoned to say their feelings.”

“exactly.”

sukuna takes another pull of his drink, then smirks.

“lowkey thought she was gonna kick him in the dick after the beach party though.”

gojo cackles. “she should’ve! man was acting like a dumbass.”

“nah, he is a dumbass,” sukuna says, stretching his arms behind his head. “but he loves her. like, real shit. he looked like a kicked puppy for weeks.”

“the haunted stare,” gojo nods sagely. “saw him just sitting on the couch one day staring into the void while yuki played meg thee stallion.”

“emo boy in a house full of chaos,” sukuna mutters.

gojo hums, gaze drifting up to the open window above the porch—choso’s room. the light is off now, but he can imagine what’s up there.

soft conversation. laughter. maybe some kissing. maybe a little crying.

a happy kind of mess.

“you think they’ll actually work out?” he asks.

sukuna shrugs. “i think they already were. just didn’t admit it yet.”

gojo smiles, lazy and warm.

“yeah,” he says. “they’re good together. weird, but good.”

another beat passes. the crickets are loud. someone starts snoring from the living room.

“you think we’ll get invited to the wedding?” gojo says eventually.

sukuna scoffs. “only if you don’t ruin the reception.”

gojo lifts his beer with a grin.

“no promises.”

they clink bottles.

and somewhere upstairs, behind the walls of a room where two people finally figured their shit out, the light turns on again.

heck yeah i'm back 👅👅👅 if you liked this let me know 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

more choso ! sex with a stoner | sticky situation

~ m.list!

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starmocha · 10 months ago

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Elysium [Sylus/Reader ★ 16K words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Beneath the azure sky and across the luscious green grassland, a love story unfolds. A/N: AO3 user InsomniacForevermore planted an itsy bitsy seed in my head, and…it grew...out of control, actually… 👁👄👁 My Grassland!Sylus Childhood friends/Arranged Marriage/Soulmates AU is finally here and I only had to sacrifice four nights of sleep for it. 🥹 (btw, not necessary, but…listen to DJ Sammy’s Heaven – Candlelight Mix while reading...or post-reading, whichever)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

elysium — n. a place or state of ideal happiness

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The warriors are home!

You first heard the excited cries while tending to your flock of sheep on the grassland. All around you and from far away, people were already abandoning their tasks and chores to rush to the village entrance to greet and welcome the returning warriors.

“Sylus is also back!” one of the young maidens cried with delight.

Your heart paused at hearing his name, your breathing coming out uneven. Instinctively, you also rose to your feet. You left behind your flock to idly graze as your feet took off running at a breakneck speed back to the village. When you had arrived, a large, dense crowd had already formed at the square. The elders and the chief—your father—were praising the warriors’ heroic victories against opposing tribes, but among those who was lavished with the most praises was Sylus. His build larger than the other men and his intimidating height towering above others. Even from the back of the crowd, you could see him clearly.

Your heart quickened, seeing his sharp eyes surveyed the large crowd, going from face to face. The moment his eyes locked in on your petite form, his cold expression broke, the intimidating glare softened completely as he pushed through the crowd and rushed to you. In just seconds, he had gathered you into his arms, lifting you high above the crowd.

Laughter and cheers broke out at the sight of Sylus holding you up high, his strong arms wrapped around your thighs. You steadied your balance, hands resting on his shoulders, gasping and laughing, “Welcome home!”

He smiled back lovingly and murmured for your ears only, “I’m home.”

“Today, let us feast and praise our young men for the glory they have brought upon our tribe!” the chief declared, his words met by loud cheers and thunderous applauses all around.

You were helping bringing the food to the banquet when you felt a strong grip on your arm, tugging you gently back. You steadied the basket of flatbreads you carried and looked up, meeting Sylus’ gaze. He smiled at you mischievously.

“Let the other girls handle this,” he said, tossing a look to the other young women behind you giggling and smiling with envy. “Come with me.”

You couldn’t get a word out as one of the girls came over and took your basket from you, all of them laughing and prodding you to leave with Sylus, much to your embarrassment.

“Go on, we know how much you have been missing him,” one of the girls said, batting her eyelashes teasingly at you.

“It’s a wonder our sheep didn’t get stolen away by wild beasts while its shepherd was so lovesick,” another teased as she exaggeratedly patted her heart rhythmically.

“Was she now?” Sylus asked, amused. He gave you a knowing glance and you glared right back at him.

“Oh, hush, all of you.” You rolled your eyes at your so-called friends before grabbing Sylus’ hand and dragging him away, your ears burning as you could still hear the laughter and cheering.

You paused in your steps once you both were out of sight. You looked up at Sylus, feeling sheepish now. “Um…Actually, I don’t know where we are going…”

He laughed and shook his head. “I was wondering where you were dragging me off to.” He leaned down and pinched your cheek, his grin widening. “The chief’s daughter still gets so easily flustered when others talk about her betrothed, hmm?”

“Sylus, quit it!” You rubbed at your sore cheek with a pout.

“I can’t help myself,” he said, pulling you closer into his embrace. “I have missed seeing you and hearing your voice these last few months.”

Your arms slowly encircled around his waist. You looked up with a bashful smile. “So…you felt the same?”

“Do you doubt me, my beloved?”

He leaned down and kissed your lips. It felt just as sweet and tender as you remembered when he last kissed you goodbye months ago. He parted, but his gaze remained on you, searching—beseeching.

“I would never,” you responded, standing on your toes and stealing another kiss from him, much to both his surprise and delight.

“Come,” he said, breaking away and smirking at your disappointed pout. “I have the horses ready.”

“The horses?”

“We have much to catch up on, my beloved,” he said, taking your hand in his, “And I do not wish for prying ears to listen in on our conversations.”

You rode upon your chestnut-colored mare while Sylus rode his stallion, its black coat sheening in the sunlight on the grassland. The horses walked leisurely across the plane side-by-side as their owners idly conversed. You excitedly rambled on and on about the most mundane events that had happened in his absence, only becoming acutely aware of his silence when you caught sight of his smirk.

“…I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

He shook his head in disagreement. “I have missed your voice,” he answered, “Won’t you tell me more?”

You felt embarrassed by how much you were talking, and even more so when you realized he was listening and watching you with such rapt attention. You shook your head fervently. “No, it’s your turn to talk.”

“It won’t be nearly as entertaining as your story of the goat herder getting drunk and falling asleep in the goat pen while his goats took over his home.”

You rolled your eyes. “I will not be swayed by such weak flattery.”

“Then shall I serenade to you instead, my beloved?”

You covered your ears. “These mortal ears are not worthy of such…unearthly…singing.”

He huffed. “My men have enjoyed my singing these past few months,” he responded proudly, “Surely, my future bride would as well.”

“They’ve truly earned their feast tonight then,” you murmured more to yourself.

“What was that?”

“Nothing—” You paused, your playfulness disappearing instantly the moment you caught sight of several small colorful pouches in the saddlebag on Sylus’ horse, items meant to proclaim affections for the receiver of them. You didn’t even think before blurting out, “Who gave you those pouches?”

You silently cursed the moment you realized what you had asked. You tried to look away nonchalant, missing the smirk rising on Sylus’ face.

“Jealous?”

“No…” You nudged your horse, urging her to walk faster.

Sylus did the same with his horse, matching your pace. “These were welcome home presents.”

“Were they?” Even though you tried to maintain a façade of indifference, you felt your skin crawling at the thought. Against your better judgment, your mind was already racing through the names and faces of all the village girls that could have gifted him those pouches. You played out possible scenarios of how the events could have transpired. You pictured those girls giggling and blushing as they handed him their homemade pouches that they had spent so much time on for him.

You pictured him—smiling. At those girls. Smiling, as he received their gifts. Smiling, as his hand might accidentally brushed against theirs. Smiling…

At others.

Sylus called your name, and you found yourself breaking out of your self-imposed stupor. You turned away to hide your red cheeks, embarrassed by your sudden behavior change. You tried to speak calmly, suddenly becoming very aware of how stiff your voice sounded, but it was better than to let your actual emotions come through. “It will get dark soon. We should head back.”

“Are you jea—”

You kicked your mare’s sides, urging her to take off at a gallop. You didn’t want to hear him finish that sentence, didn’t want to think further about what had transpired. You knew you were behaving irrationally and immature, but you felt like you couldn’t face him, couldn’t stand for him to see you in such a vulnerable, ugly state.

Sylus chuckled as he watched you atop your mare, racing away across the land in the direction of the village. He tugged at his stallion’s rein, yelling, and his own horse took off after yours. Even though he had allowed you a head start, it didn’t take long for Sylus’ horse to close the distance.

You could hear the heavy hooves of the stallion behind you, and you urged your mare to run faster. It was a futile attempt to evade the approaching party. In a matter of seconds, Sylus’ stallion was running side by side with your mare again.

Your eyes widened when Sylus leaned over, his strong legs still keeping him steady on his horse. He grabbed you by the waist from your horse and easily carried you over to his, ignoring your panicked cries. The stallion had slowed to a halt, giving Sylus a chance to settle you and him more comfortably atop the horse. You watched with dismay as your mare continued galloping back to the village, leaving you trapped with Sylus. You looked up, shooting Sylus a heated glare.

“Why did you do that?!”

“Why are you glaring at me?”

“Why did you grab me like that?!”

“Why did you run away?”

“Why—why—”

He waited, his arrogant smile making you even more flustered and angry and emotional. Your glare wavered; you could feel the hot tears brimming in your eyes. You hurriedly blinked them away, but now you could also feel your chest tightening with pain, your breathing coming out ragged. The longer Sylus looked at you and the more you struggled to keep your emotions in check, the worse you felt, knowing a dam was about break and you could do nothing to stop it.

“So why—" Sylus stopped. His smile faltered when you finally broke down crying:

“Why…did you accept them?”

“What?”

You buried your face in your hands, crying, unable to calm yourself or keep the hot tears at bay. You shook and sobbed, your words tumbling uncontrollably out of your mouth, “Why did you accept those girls’ pouches?”

Sylus looked down at you, shocked, not expecting to see you crying, your voice holding so much hurt and pain, he felt guilty for putting you in such a state. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you back to rest against his chest. He shushed you softly as he whispered apologies while you cried. You felt him burying his face in your hair, his chest pressing closer to your back, and you couldn’t understand why, but the act itself just made you cry harder as you wrapped your arms around his, hurt and scared and angry.

As dusk settled in, painting the sky in purple and orange, the air felt heavy. In the wide expanse of the grassland, the plane stretched for miles and miles, seemingly endless. You were but a speck in the field, and in that moment in his arms, you truly felt so small and insignificant.

As you returned to the village, nightfall had already descended. You and Sylus had ridden back in silence, the awkward atmosphere only worsening with each passing minute. Sylus had kept an arm protectively around your waist the entire time while his other hand held the rein. You looked down, eyes following the horse’s hooves as he trotted back to the village.

“We’re almost back,” Sylus’ soft voice broke through the tensed atmosphere.

You looked up, seeing the huts that lined the outskirt of the village and your mare quietly grazing in the distance. You wriggled a little, but that only made Sylus tightened his hold. You looked down at his arm around you and you said softly, “Let me down. I can walk back.”

“No,” he answered.

“Sylus—"

He suddenly yanked the rein, forcing the horse to turn around in a different direction.

“Sylus?!” you looked up, panicked, not expecting this sudden change in pacing. Sylus’ sight remained ahead, and your heart sped up at the view of seeing his handsome face from this angle, bathed only in moonlight.

Sylus commanded his horse skillfully and you both rode atop the stallion at a brisk pace across the grassland. The cool night breeze brushed against your cheeks, drying your earlier tears. You even found yourself starting to smile and laugh, the adrenaline taking over and stealing away your earlier anguish.

Eventually, Sylus took you back to the village once he had seen that you had calmed down. The horses were returned to their stable. After giving your mare a comforting stroke down her mane, you turned just as Sylus handed you the saddlebag. You looked up surprised.

“They mean nothing to me,” he said resolutely, “Burn them.”

“I’m not going to…”

He stroked your cheek with the back of his hand, making you swallowed your words. “I had never meant to make you upset or have you cried like that, nor did I mean to make you jealous…”

“I was not jea—”

He leaned down and kissed your lips, silencing you. You dropped the saddlebag, the pouches spilling out on the ground. “Sy—”

He lifted you into his arms and you looked up in surprise. “What are you—"

He carried you out of the stable before letting you down again. You looked at him exasperatedly. “You always do what you want—this is not fair…”

“What’s not fair?”

“It’s not fair…how…I’m the only one…feeling insecure…”

In the village square, you could hear the celebration dying down as people started making their way home. The bonfire in the center still blazed brightly.

“You are right,” Sylus responded, “I don’t feel insecure.”

Your shoulders slumped and you kept your eyes lowered. You suddenly felt Sylus’ finger under your chin, tilting it up so your eyes met his.

“You were promised to me,” he said, hushed, “And I to you.”

He kissed you. “We are meant to be, and were we not, I would rewrite the stars, to change the course of destiny and weave a new tapestry of fate to make you mine.”

His forehead pressed to yours. “My beloved,” he held his gaze with yours, “I will always choose you, in this life and the next. Whether we are meant to be or not—”

He kissed you again, and the last remnants of your jealousy and hurt faded away.

I will always choose you.

The following morning you were lazing in the field as the flock of sheep grazed peacefully all around you. The warm sunlight had you yawning, already feeling yourself being lured by the tempting sun into drifting back to sleep.

As the time passed, your eyes felt heavier, and you nodded off a little. Another yawn escaped before you decided a few minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt. Slowly, you closed your eyes, letting them rest for a few minutes.

“Is this what you do when I’m not here?”

You immediately opened your eyes when you heard Sylus’ approaching voice. You let out a soft surprised squeak when he knelt down next to you, his face looming just mere inches from yours. He was smirking. “Lazing around and sleeping? What if your sheep gets stolen by wild beasts, my beloved?”

You glared at him. “I was not sleeping. I…was blinking.”

“Your eyes were closed for far longer than a blink should be.”

“I had some dust in my eyes.”

“I’m quite sure I heard you snoring.”

You blushed and shoved his face aside, glowering when he started laughing at you. “Did you come all the way out here just to tease me?”

“Mmhmm,” he answered with a pleased nod as he sat back with his legs propped up. His elbow rested on top of his leg while he cradled his chin in his hand. You noticed in his other hand was a wreath crafted from leaves and berries.

Your heart quickened and you gasped softly. You looked at him expectantly, wondering if this meant what you thought it meant. It was at that moment, though, that you noticed the dark bags under his eyes. You crawled over to him and he sat back, allowing you to settle in between his long legs. You reached up and touched his face.

“Did you not sleep last night?” you asked him worriedly.

He simply smiled and shook his head. Without a word, Sylus placed the wreath on top of your head. You reached up and touched it tentatively as you looked at him confused.

“I wanted to finish this for you,” he explained, smiling, “Just as I had thought. This suits you.”

“R-really?”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed again, nodding. He leaned in to steal your lips. “You look beautiful.”

“Sylus…” You could feel your cheeks warming up as he spoke.

“Now everyone will know you are mine and I am yours.”

You felt touched by his gesture. Without thinking, you threw your arms around his neck, surprising him into losing his balance. Sylus laid on the grass with you on top of him. You grinned and kissed him happily. He looked up, gasping softly when he saw the sunlight had formed a radiant halo behind your head.

How…ethereal...

He smiled, his hand gently grasped your chin, his thumb brushing over your soft, trembling lips. “We are already promised to one another,” he said, “but if I may be presumptuous, I would still like to ask.”

You looked down at him confused.

“My beloved,” he said, voice soft and sincere, “will you be my bride?”

You stroked his cheek, and as you leaned down closer to his face, your wreath tilted on your head. “What do you think?”

He smiled. “Your wreath is going to fall off.”

“You’ll put it back on for me, right?”

He huffed in amusement at your audacious question, but he nodded. “Yeah,” he said lightly, reaching up to fix the wreath for you, “I will…my bride.”

For that brief moment, you felt like your heart had stopped, your mind replaying what he had just said over and over again. Slowly, you smiled again as you leaned in and kissed him, feeling his strong arms wrapped around you and holding you close to his body.

“This is my vow to you, my bride” he said, your faces just barely apart, “There is only you in my eyes. In this life and all of the lifetimes afterwards, I will always choose you.”

“Same for me,” you answered, gazing back at him fondly. You stroked his cheek, letting yourself willingly and helplessly drown in those passionate crimson eyes.

“I will always find you,” you promised, “In all of our lives together, I will always find you and choose you, my love.”

Your ardent words beckoned his lips to yours, and for the rest of the day, you lay together under the warm morning sun on the grassland, lost in your own world of bliss.

Hands intertwined, you returned to the village with Sylus, his handmade wreath worn proudly on your head. There were envious looks directed at you and sighs of resignation heard here and there. You felt a squeeze from Sylus’ hand and you answered back with your own.

His love for you had always been true and steadfast.

When you looked back on your years together, it seemed he was always there, always yours.

The boy who was promised to you and you to him. An oath had been formed between two powerful families long before either of you came into the world, but perhaps it was always meant to be, because never once did either of you seemed to rebel against your destiny.

You grew up alongside him on the grassland, running barefoot and riding horses across the endless green pasture under the sun. It was a rich childhood filled with laughter and smiles, skinned knees and clumsy first kisses, with the boy who had carried you on his small back home. With the boy who had promised to grow up and become the strongest warrior on the grassland. With the boy who had sworn he would always keep you safe and protected.

The same boy, one day, had become a man, who had unwittingly stolen many young maidens’ hearts, but his own he had safeguarded and kept for you alone.

The man who would always find his way back to you no matter how far his duties may take him.

The man who would soon become your husband, the promise made so long ago between two families would now be honored.

You tightened your hold on his hand, and he smiled down on you.

That smile alone seemed to have banished any lingering insecurities you had. As you stared into his eyes, falling deeper and deeper, you knew nothing could ever sway him, could ever tear him from you. Likewise, there was no one else in your eyes and heart.

It was always going to be him.

There was much to celebrate in the coming weeks. Weddings after weddings took place across the village as one after another, couples were married off.

In the middle of spring, on a warm and sunny day, you were the last to be wedded, but your wedding ceremony was the most extravagant. As the only daughter of the village’s chief, you were the pride and joy of your father. From birth, you and Sylus had already been matched, your future destined together, and now as young adults, the day for your wedding was finally here.

Dressed in red and gold, the colors symbolizing love and prosperity, the elder women prepared you for your groom. You pressed your lips between a lipstick paper, staining them crimson as your cheeks were painted in a similar shade with the rouge made from the scarlet flowers gathered in the grassland. Your hair had been cleansed, fragranced, and styled with gold and red flowers decorating your tresses. You were the very image of a new bride, and now the time had come for you to go meet your groom.

As you made your way through the village, passing cheers from well-wishers, your eyes honed in on Sylus waiting for you at the end. Your breath hitched, your heart speeding up. Dressed in a matching red/gold ceremonial robe and trousers, he waited for you with a smile. You couldn’t help but noted appreciatively how the robe he wore brought out the beauty in his eyes.

His crimson eyes were always so sharp and piercing, able to strike fear into his enemies’ hearts, but when he gazed upon you, there was only soft, gentle joy, love, and gratitude.

The happiness he felt in this moment, knowing soon, by the day’s end, you would be his wife from now until the end of your time on this earthly plane.

The love he felt for you was deeper than the ocean’s depth, unmatched by any force in this world. He would lay down his life for you, rebel against the gods for you, he would submit to you time and time again.

The gratitude he felt for being born into the same lifetime as yours, to be able to have you as his, to build a life with you. He couldn’t begin to express the depths of his gratitude, but he would gladly spend the rest of his life trying.

As you approached him, his gaze seemed to soften even more. You stood facing him, your heart beating faster than normal. One large hand cupped your face and you smiled, leaning into his touch, feeling your heart steadying again.

Soon, he and you would be tethered together in matrimony, your bond witnessed by your village and the heavens above.

You exhaled slowly as the priest began the ceremony.

“May the gods and goddesses bless this pair, allow their union to be fruitful and their happiness endless.”

You stole a glance at Sylus, startling when you met his crimson gaze already settled on you. The fond smile he wore quickly transitioned to a smirk at your flustered expression. You started to look away out of sheer embarrassment, but you caught sight of him quietly mouthing to you: “Eyes on me.”

You found yourself obediently listening to him, your focus entirely on the man you were marrying. Likewise, Sylus kept his own eyes on you.

Time felt sluggish as the ceremony wore on, your body moving through the motions and unable to truly comprehend anything that was said. You didn’t even remember when the ceremony finally ended, only breaking out of your daze when the whole village erupted in cheers as even more scarlet flowers were tossed and thrown in the air to celebrate.

Now husband and wife, you linked arms with Sylus as you made your way back to the square, smiling and laughing as everyone cheered and blessed your marriage. You looked up just as Sylus leaned down and captured your lips, his sudden public display of affection causing a commotion.

While you were hyperaware of the many eyes on the two of you, Sylus appeared unconcerned. To him, there was no one else around. It was just the two of you.

“My bride…”

From morning to sundown to nightfall, it seemed like the celebration would never end. The feast was plentiful, the alcohol abundant, and all around you, people enjoyed the festivity to their hearts’ contents, feeling encouraged to engage in gluttony and merriment for this one special day. It was not every day that many would witness such a blessed union as this marriage between the most powerful warrior in the village and the chief’s daughter. There was much cause for celebration, much joyous anticipation for the bright future that was to come.

While everyone was taking part in the merriment, you and Sylus sat at your own private table, idly chatting and dining, unable to tear your eyes away from one another. You were feeding him some fruits when the village herbalist brought forth a tray with two wooden bowls filled to the brim with a specially prepared wine for newlyweds, the alcohol laced with a potent aphrodisiac. You took one of the wooden bowls hesitantly while Sylus grabbed the other. You took an uneasy glance at your new husband.

He smirked, meeting your gaze. Without any hesitation, Sylus raised his bowl to his lips, downing the wine in mere seconds. You felt a flutter in your belly before you drank from your own bowl, feeling the alcohol burning down your throat. The wine itself rushed to your head, already causing you to feel a little tipsy.

With your inhibitions suddenly lowered, Sylus pulled you to him, his lips seizing yours, and you tasted the rich wine still staining his lips while he tasted yours. You were told the wine would take some time to take effect, so you wondered why you felt so lightheaded in that moment from just a mere kiss.

“Come away with me,” Sylus murmured, his lips just a breath from yours. Taking your hand in his, Sylus dragged you to your feet, steadying you, before leading you away.

He spirited you away to the field on the outskirt of the village. You both left behind the raucous celebration, hearing the drunken laughter and singing fading with each step you took. As the other villagers continued in their festive merriments, no one noticed the absence of the newly wedded bride and groom.

On the outskirt of the village, there was no lamp or bonfire to light the way—only the distant stars overhead to guide you through the darkness. You passed the slumbering flock of sheep, all clustered together for warmth and protection.

“They need to be sheared soon,” you remarked, laughing as you pointed out the fluffiest of the bunch.

He smiled and grabbed your hand again, fingers intertwining together. He led you far away from the village, across the grassy plane.

How strange. You had run barefoot on these grass as children, and now you were walking side-by-side as husband and wife. You not-so-subtly leaned closer to him. He smiled.

“Where are we going?” you asked, looking up at your new husband.

Sylus shrugged. “Away,” he answered, “It’s too noisy back there.”

You laughed. “Celebrations are supposed to be noisy.”

He shrugged again. “I do not care for them.”

“How ironic, coming from a man who has been celebrated for his many feats all of his life.”

He chuckled, but decided not to deign a response to your quip. Instead, he paused in his steps, turning to face you, asking, “Shall I take you away from this place then?”

“And go where?”

“Wherever you would like,” he answered, making suggestions, “The sea, the mountains—”

“And if I say I enjoy our life on this grassy plane?”

He smiled. “Then I will build the biggest hut worthy of my bride.”

You giggled. “Such a powerful boast,” you said, humoring him. “What if I don’t like it?”

“Then I will build a new one.”

“What if I they all displease me?”

“I will still have a lifetime to please my fickle bride,” he responded, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to him. You both stumbled back, rolling down on the grass until you laid beneath him. Your cheeks suddenly felt warmer. Sylus peered down at you with a knowing smile. “My bride is suddenly silent…”

You looked up, wide-eyed and mouth slightly parted. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, your senses suddenly heightened as you became all too aware of the close proximity of Sylus to you. He leaned down and nuzzled his cheek against yours.

Above him, the dark night sky loomed overhead, millions upon millions of stars scattered the heavens, bearing witness to the sacred union on the grassy plane. You felt a slight warmth in your body, but you brushed the feeling aside.

“The moon…” you murmured, gaze looking past him at the bright, full orb in the sky, “She is beautiful…”

“Indeed,” he answered, hushed, eyes fixated only on you. His long, slender finger trailed down your smooth cheek as he spoke softly, “Have I stolen a goddess to be my wife?”

“Such sacrilegious words,” you chided him, but Sylus responded with a roguish grin, stealing your lips and taking your reprimand with delight.

He hummed and murmured in between the sweet kisses, “Am I wrong? Would the gods not bow down to your beauty? Would goddesses not become green with envy and wish to covet the love I have for you?”

You gasped for breath, unsure if your racing heart was spurred by his relentless kisses or the feverish words he had so sweetly uttered. You panted softly, voice still scolding, “The hubris of this mortal man…”

He pressed his forehead to yours, laughing, “I speak of only the truth—my truth.”

“The gods will surely punish you for such loose lips.”

“To bear punishments simply because my only crime is that I wish to lavish my bride with praises and love?” He kissed you again, a haughty smile graced his face. “Then let them punish me.”

The warmth in your body spread. Surely, such words couldn’t have this much of an effect on you, right? You vaguely noticed Sylus’ own expression seemed more heated, his eyes darkening with a look of desire and longing.

He kissed you again, but you felt it was different from the previous light, affectionate pecks. He was practically ravaging your soft lips to the point you felt like you would bruise. You moaned against his mouth, this burning inside of you worsening as you kissed him back just as eagerly.

As the night wore on, you began to notice the effects of the aphrodisiacs settling in, feeling the warmth spread in your body and seeing the flushed look on your new husband’s face.

“Sy-Sylus…” you called for him, and his lips and teeth grazed along your neck. You panted and tugged at his ceremonial clothes urgently. “I…I feel so warm…”

“I know,” he husked back, hand cradling your face. He breathed in sharply. He himself was also beginning to feel the effects of the aphrodisiacs on his body, and coupled with the erotic sight of your flushed expression, he could feel himself hardening, needing you just as much as you needed him in this moment. He kissed your lips again, his voice coming out in soft pants, “I cannot wait to go back to our hut. I must have you now.”

You nodded, your body was aching, yearning for him in a way you had never felt before. You tossed your head to the side, your arms reaching up to wrap around your body, your own hands tugging at your clothes impatiently. “It’s so hot…Sylus…my body…it…it feels…it feels like…like it’s throbbing…I…I…”

He groaned at your words. He pulled away, and you looked upset at the sudden loss of contact, already missing his heavy weight on you, his warm heat against you, his soft touches on you. You whined softly, needing him on you again.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, breathless.

“With my life,” you answered immediately, and he smiled.

He knelt before you, like a devout follower, your body his temple to worship at. He offered you his kisses, words praising your beauty. You watched, eyes glazed over, your throat drying, as he removed his clothes tossing them to the side unceremoniously. You felt the ache inside you worsened as you took in the magnificent appearance of your husband, your eyes raking up and down his glorious body. Your breath hitched as you bore witness to his manhood, feeling both trepidation and excitement swirling inside you.

He reached out and disrobed you, his own eyes greedily taking in the sight of your exposed body. There was no other beauty or treasure in the world that could entice him the way he was feeling for you in this moment.

“Lay back,” he ordered, and though you were confused, you obeyed him. Suddenly, your eyes widened when he had your legs slung over his powerful shoulders while he settled between your parted thighs. You felt his warm breath trailing along your thigh, reaching your core.

“Sylus, what are you—ohh…” your head fell back as you let out a moan, feeling his mouth pressing against your most intimate area.

His mouth…he is… “Ahh…!” You covered your mouth, embarrassed by the unexpected noises you were making.

“Don’t.” Sylus looked up, chiding you gently, “I want to hear more. I want to hear how good I am making you feel.”

“Ohhh…” You could feel him parting your slick lips, his tongue diving in and stroking against you in all of the right places. Your hips moved on their own, wanting more of this stimulating sensation he was bringing to you.

You opened your eyes a crack, barely able to see him, but you did catch a glimpse of his hand, seeing it wrapped around his magnificent manhood, pumping it urgently as he continued to pleasure you. You could feel your body pulsing at the sight, your breathing coming out in quick gasps and moans.

“Sylus…ohhh…”

You whimpered, feeling an unfamiliar sensation happening to your body. “Sylus—I…I feel strange…ahh…ahh…”

“Do you feel good?” he pulled back just a moment to check in on you, a smirk on his face. You whined in frustration at the sudden loss of attention. He laughed and continued. You cried out when Sylus’ other hand pressed against you, brushing over an area that had you bucking against him. He continued stroking that same spot, feeling that sensitive little pearl, that was making you cry and moan so desperately, the erotic sounds you were making had him stroking himself harder and faster. Your helpless cries rose in pitch, coming out faster…and faster…and—

Your hips bucked up, your head tossed to the side as you let out a strangled moan, fingers finding only grass to hold onto as your body experienced the most euphoric sensation you had ever felt.

Sylus lapped at you greedily, forgetting his own pleasure as he wanted to only extend yours. You had never felt this high, this searing, hot pleasure coursing through your body. You focused on the feeling, wanting to hold onto it for as long as you could.

You were panting so hard, body trembling uncontrollably with pleasure. You didn’t know how long the heavenly feeling lasted, but when you felt the haze starting to subside, you realized Sylus was lavishing you with kisses. You hummed back tiredly, feeling his hands explored your body. You moaned as he squeezed your breast experimentally.

“How are you feeling?” His voice was soft. He pressed a kiss into the nape of your neck.

“So…so good…” You said, but then you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing yourself closer to him again. You still felt so hot inside, still not fully satisfied. You whimpered to him, “Sylus…the wine…”

He panted, his hand cupping your sex, the friction from it only easing your ache a little. You needed more. Instinctively, your hips moved on their own, your body trying to seize whatever friction it could to satisfy this agonizing ache inside you.

“You are still so wet,” he murmured, laughing softly to himself, “This is good…”

You were confused by his words, but Sylus immediately kissed you again, reassuring you. “I’ll quell the fire inside you.”

Your eyes widened when he aligned himself to you, the head of his massive manhood pressing into your slick folds. You bit down on your lip, wincing from the unfamiliar sensation as you felt more and more of him entering. You gasped, tensing.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your shoulder. “Bear with the pain a little, my bride.”

You arched forward, voice scared. “Sylus—!”

He hushed you softly as he pressed more of himself into you slowly, groaning as he felt your walls stretching to accommodate him. He gauged your reaction closely, pleased as you became used to the feeling of him penetrating you.

He watched as your expression slowly changed, your arousal coming back stronger as he sheathed himself fully inside you. For a moment, he remained still, buried completely inside you and letting you adjust to the feeling. His lips found yours again, his hand slipping into yours.

“Ahh…m…more…”

Sylus’ ears perked up the moment he heard your soft plea. He began moving. Slow, careful movements at first, and then he slammed into you, making you cry out as stars filled your vision. Once he was sure you were enjoying yourself, he picked up his pacing, setting a hard, fast rhythm.

You writhed beneath him on the grass, moaning as he spread you more, taking you in deeper. His kisses trailed down your neck to your chest, his mouth finding your nipple to suckle. You squirmed when his tongue teased the sensitive nub, swirling around it until it hardened. “Sylus!”

He groaned when your fingers found his hair, tugging at him, urging him on. His voice was heavy with arousal when he spoke, “Taking me so well…my beloved beautiful bride…” He kissed your neck, his hands explored your body, learning and memorizing all of the curves that only he would ever know and trace. He memorized the way you sounded, the way your body was trembling with pleasure as it felt every burning touch and thrust from him.

“Sylus…more…more…please…”

He smiled and kissed your lips, swallowing your pleas hungrily.

Every powerful thrust had you calling his name, begging and pleading for him to go deeper and harder and faster. He answered your desperate pleas, giving you everything you were begging for. “Sylus—I am…ahh…it’s…close…”

He grunted. He could feel it too, knowing you were so close to coming undone again by him. That sweet, mounting pleasurable feeling you had felt earlier was almost here, just within reach, a little more, and—

You could feel your world tipping over, a white-hot searing pleasure coursing through your body, more powerful than the last. You didn’t know which god or goddess to praise for the intense pleasure this man was bringing to you, but you continued to cry out anyway. You gripped the grass, tugging until you pulled them free from the ground. The grass blades slipped from your fingers and scattered in the wind.

Sylus continued to rock into you, his own climax nearing. His hands gripped tightly your hips as he pounded into you with enough force that your breasts bounced. His hand skimmed over your flat belly, already imagining it growing heavy with a new life inside.

“Going to have you bear my children,” he murmured against your ear, his large hand gripping your much smaller one.

You moaned at his words. This was to be your role. You had always known it. The women were expected to bear their husbands’ children, the future of the village depending on these fruitful unions. For a powerful warrior like him, there was even more pressure for you to conceive, to bear him many strong sons who would inherit and carry on his legacy.

“Yes, yes,” you answered him breathlessly. You held onto him as he drove into you, his words reigniting the fire inside you. You whined softly into his shoulder. “Please, Sylus…”

“Oh, gods,” he grunted, “You are going to look so beautiful, my beloved.”

You mewled at his words. “More…ah…tell me more…”

His breath hitched, but he continued, his own words making him dizzy with pleasure. He was smirking as he panted, “Would you like that, my beloved? Would you like to grow big and round with my baby in your womb?”

You whimpered. It was your role. It was your duty. However, the way he asked, the way his deep voice sounded, rasping with desire, made you realized that you did want to have his babies—not out of obligation, but as an expression of your sincere love for him. You gasped and cried out, “Yes!”

That one word seemed to have driven Sylus wild. He spread you more and drove in deeper, his powerful thrusts unrelenting as he neared his own release. Your cries echoed in the dark night sky. You practically squealed, unprepared for this sudden aggressive switch.

“You’re going to carry my baby,” he murmured, nearly delirious with desire, “Grow big and round with my baby. Everyone will know. Everyone will know it is my baby in your womb, my baby that I fucked into you.”

You panted and moaned, your hands searching desperately for anything to hold onto, anything to keep you grounded as he took you for himself. Normally so sweet and affable with you, his sudden lewd words had you throbbing all over again. You didn’t realize you could get so aroused by such obscene words, but you found your body was craving more. You wanted to hear him say more of these perverted words, wanted to hear these indecent thoughts spoken aloud by his deliciously and sinfully deep voice. You wanted him to act on his lascivious desires, wanted those words to come true, wanted him to actually fuck a baby into you. You whimpered his name, gasping and pleading.

Sylus leaned in closer to you and you instantly encircled your arms around his neck, holding onto him tightly. He wrapped his own arms around you, lifting you off the ground, your legs locking around his waist as he penetrated you deeply, hitting that sweet spot that had you feeling that same euphoric feeling approaching again.

“You are going to look beautiful—so fucking gorgeous—heavy with my baby in you. Going to keep feeling you, going to fuck you over and over again while you are pregnant.”

His movements had become hurried and graceless, his own words mixed with your reactions had him close to the edge. “Gonna fill you up, gonna keep you full, gonna make sure my seed take.”

“Oh, Sylus—I am going to—ahh, don’t stop, don’t stop!”

You felt it, it was coming again, it was mounting, getting tighter, so close, so close, so fucking close—

You screamed your release into his shoulder, your nails scraping frantically along his back as you felt him emptied into you, filling and flooding your womb full of his seed. You bit down into his shoulder, and he hissed with pain and pleasure. There was just so much.

“Sylus—ahh, I…I feel so…full…”

He groaned and buried his face into your neck. His voice was low and commanding, “Take every last drop.”

“Ahh…Sylus…Sylus…”

He lifted your head from his shoulder, and he leaned forward, your lips his to take. You trembled against him, the aftershocks of your release still coursing through your spent body. You stayed in his arms, boneless and satisfied, the effects of the aphrodisiacs finally wearing off.

You looked at him with half-hooded eyes, meeting his own satiated gaze. His lips found yours again, his kisses more tender this time as you stayed in each other’s embrace longer as you both slowly came back down from your shared climaxes.

You lay with him beneath the stars, the cool spring breeze a welcoming presence after your heated lovemaking. You nestled into Sylus’ embrace, sighing softly when he tightened his hold. He covered you both loosely with his ceremonial robe as you basked in the afterglow.

You prayed for this moment to last, to always remember every single detail of this night. Among the million stars above, you hoped at least one would hear your silent prayer and make it come true. You closed your eyes, letting yourself be enveloped by Sylus’ warmth. As you slipped into a deep slumber, you could hear Sylus’ rich, deep voice murmuring softly:

“My beloved bride…I love you.”

As daybreak came, you found yourself waking up on top of fur, feeling a strong, protective arm wrapped around you. When you looked up, you didn’t see the sky. You looked around and realized you were inside a hut.

You heard soft snoring and looked up, seeing Sylus’ sleeping face close to yours. You smiled as memories of the previous day rushed back through your mind, your cheeks tinging pink as you remembered the passionate night beneath the stars with him on the grassland.

You snuggled into his embrace, his now familiar warmth enveloping you. Sylus stirred when he felt your movements. He looked down and smiled, kissing the top of your head.

“Good morning, my bride.”

You smiled, answering him, “Good morning…my husband.”

The one word seemed to have robbed Sylus of all thoughts as he seemed to sleepily replayed what you had just said again in his head. Slowly, happily, he smiled and pulled you into a kiss.

“Say it again,” he murmured against your lips.

“My husband.”

“I love you,” he whispered back, his words making you swelled with joy. He rolled over and had you trapped beneath him. His feverish kisses covered you and you struggled to keep up.

“Sy—Sylus, the sun is up—!”

“I do not care,” he murmured, nibbling your neck, “Do not worry. Just let this happen, my bride.”

You mewled softly, feeling his soft lips all over you, his hands roaming your body brazenly. Helplessly, you gave in to his wicked temptation and to your desires, surrendering yourself completely to him that morning.

By the next moon cycle, many of the new young brides had fallen pregnant—yourself included. The men had already departed for their hunting trip, already prepping for the cold winter months to come. They would not be receiving news about their expecting brides until they returned—hopefully with a bountiful hunt.

You had all conceived around the same time, so everyone’s growths were only slightly different. Even though, you were the last to lay with your husband, everyone noticed how fast you were growing, belly rounding out bigger and faster than the other new brides and mothers.

Oh, worry not, that is normal, one woman said.

The women in Sylus’ family all bear big, strong sons, another explained.

That’s right. You should be proud that you are already this big, you were told.

Child, do not fret, you were made for this, an elder assured you.

At night, you lay in bed, hand smoothing over your growing middle. Though the women in the village had offered you their wisdom and experience, you still felt unsure and worried about your fast growth. Your heart beat softly, your worries mounting. You turned in bed and stared at the empty space next to you, missing and yearning for your husband’s warmth and comfort.

You closed your eyes, hand cradling your belly, and you prayed for Sylus’ safe and quick return.

When the summer heat crept in unexpectantly, the village resounded with joyous cries as the men returned with wild games and fowls. Some were to be feasted on in the coming days while others would be cured for the winter months when food was scarce.

You raced through the village as fast as you could in your current delicate condition, arriving at the square just as you saw the imposing figure of your husband. A large wild boar was slung over Sylus’ strong, broad shoulders as he entered the square, but the moment he saw your approaching figure, seeing your rounded belly, he dropped the wild beast and rushed to you, gathering you into his arms, laughing joyously.

He carefully steadied you on your feet, dropping to his knees as he cautiously felt your belly, surprised when he was already feeling faint movements. He looked up at you adoringly, “You look breathtaking, my beloved.”

You covered your mouth with both of your hands, suppressing the laugh and cry threatening to rise. He looked at you concerned.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ve missed you,” you confessed, feeling tears brimming in your eyes.

He smiled. “I’m home.”

“Welcome home,” you said the familiar words you had said so many times in the past, but this was the first time you had uttered them as his wife. You sighed, relieved, repeating, “Welcome home.”

Nightfall arrived once more, and throughout the village, families settled in for the night one after another.

“I’ve missed you,” Sylus murmured as he climbed into bed with you, his lips already finding yours. You hummed softly, feeling your heart beating fast when his large hand rubbed against your belly, feeling the faint movements of the baby inside.

You could hear his soft, disbelieving chuckle as he parted from you. His forehead pressed to yours, his lips still near yours. “This is really happening,” he murmured, overjoyed “How do you feel?”

“Good,” you answered with a smile.

“No sickness? No discomfort?”

You shook your head. “The herbalist had given me some medication to help with the sickness.”

Sylus nodded in understanding. “That’s good then,” he murmured. He kissed your forehead, and he apologized softly. “This won’t be easy on you, so I want to ease your discomfort as much as I am able to.”

“Sylus…”

He leaned down and kissed your belly. “You are giving me the greatest gift I could ever ask for.” He rubbed your belly fondly, delighting in feeling his child responding to his touch, “Thank you, my beloved.”

The fears and unease you had felt about your changing body disappeared the moment you laid with Sylus. The flames in the lamps had long been extinguished, but you felt like in the dark hut, you could still see him clearly, see the love and desire in his eyes.

He worshiped your body the same way he did on your wedding night, reveling in the beauty and changes happening. The stretch marks that had started to appear around your stomach were caressed and kissed with revere, his voice full of praises and gratitude for the sacrifices you were making to carry his child.

When he gripped your soft, widened hips, you let out a low, deep moan, your body welcoming him in. The night air was cool on the grassland, but within this hut you both called home, there was a heat unlike any other as sweat-slicked bodies moved together with familiar ease. The air was thick and heavy with the sounds of your intense lovemaking, and where your moans ended, his began.

You kissed him, your ardent words coming out in between gasps and moans, “Welcome home…my love…”

He smiled against the sweet kisses, greedily taking them for himself. His forehead rested against yours, his movements reaching you where you needed most, and as you came, trembling so beautifully with pleasure beneath him, he breathed against your neck:

“I’m home.”

The once vibrantly green grass of the plane had begun to yellow, drying out as the weather started changing. The morning air had been chilly, and within Sylus’ warm embrace in the early hours, you both felt reluctant to leave the comfort of your shared bed.

You could hear stirring outside your hut as one by one, many of the villagers were getting up, ready to start the brand-new day. You burrowed into Sylus’ embrace, ignoring him when he laughed.

“Are you not going to get up, my bride?”

You shook your head. “It’s still early…”

You felt his hand brushing aside your hair, hearing a soft agreeable hum from him. You perked up when you heard him speaking again, “I will have to leave soon.”

“No,” you said, grabbing his arm and preventing him from getting up. “Stay with me a few minutes longer…please?”

He chuckled and shook his head in amusement. He leaned over and kissed your head, his hand smoothing your hair to the side. “So needy this morning,” he teased, though you didn’t care. You did feel needy, wanting him to stay and coddle you a little longer.

“So what if I am?” you challenged him. You attempted to sit up, but the heavy weight you carried made the once simple task much more difficult. Sylus immediately helped you as you cradled your large belly. You wondered just how big you could get for the remainder of your pregnancy. You already felt impossibly large, almost embarrassed by your size compared to many of the other expectant women in the village. You leaned back against the wall, sighing as you rubbed your belly restlessly.

He smiled sympathetically and kissed you again, his own hand resting over your stomach. “The baby is already so active this early in the morning,” he said, astonished.

“He must take after his father,” you said wearily as you shifted uncomfortably, “He doesn’t let me rest at all at night.”

Sylus smirked; his expression wickedly lewd. “Is that so?” He felt your belly again, feeling nonstop movements from the baby. He glanced at you, seeming intrigued by your earlier comment. “You said ‘he.’ What makes you so sure it’s a boy?”

You shrugged. “The women have told me that I am carrying low, which they said all points to me carrying a boy.”

Sylus looked puzzled by your explanation. “And you believe them?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “But I thought you would be pleased to hear the baby might be a boy?”

“I wouldn’t care if it’s a boy or a girl,” he said firmly. He leaned closer, his hands pressed against the wall on either side of your head, keeping you trapped. He smirked and kissed you. “Besides, I have no intention of just having one child with you.”

You blushed and tried to look away. You gasped when he went in and kissed your cheek, his lips traveling further south as he continued down your neck. “Sy—Sylus…”

“I knew it. You look so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his hand continued to caress your belly, delighting in feeling his child moving inside you. “Carrying my baby, having my baby…”

“Mmm, Sylus…”

He laughed again when he felt a particularly strong kick. “I see we have a fighter,” Sylus said, smiling, “Maybe he does take after me—or she.”

You looked at him curiously. “‘She’?”

He nodded and laid back down next to you. He kissed your belly, stroking it fondly. You felt a warmth in your chest when he did that, his look of adoration and delight making you smiled fondly.

“I want both sons and daughters,” he said firmly, looking up at you. He stroked your cheek, “I want daughters as pretty as their mother. As sweet as their mother. As loving as their mother.”

You smiled, your cheeks colored a pretty shade of pink. You decided to play along with him, teasingly asking, “Does that mean I want sons as strong as their father? As dependable as their father? As free-spirited as their father?”

“Is that how you see me?”

You nodded. You tilted your head and looked thoughtful. Sylus raised a brow at seeing your sudden quiet disposition.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stroking your cheek again.

“Do...do you…”

“Do I what?”

Your cheeks brightened further.

“Tell me,” He demanded. “What is it?”

“How many children are we going to have?”

Sylus wasn’t expecting that question, so it took him a few seconds to register what you had asked him. He then laughed, making you feel embarrassed. He quickly apologized, kissing you reassuringly. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “But I want to have a lot of children with you.”

He sat up, his hands cupped your face as he leaned in closer. “As many as my beloved will allow me to have.”

“Then,” you started hesitantly, feeling your heart pounding in your chest, “If I say…I want to give you as many as you want…”

Sylus looked surprised, and then he smiled again, his lips brushing against yours. “Then, I feel like the most blessed man in the world.”

He pulled you into his embrace, showering you with sweet words and kisses.

Outside the hut, life had already begun again as people went about their day and chores. You both could hear the laughter of children running outside, mothers scolding their little ones, and men already laboring away to provide for their family.

For this particular morning, you and Sylus both decided to idle, to lounge around and enjoy the comfort of each other. As you lay in his arms again, Sylus lulled you back to sleep with stories of the future. You drifted to sleep, his deep voice describing a memory yet to come: beneath the azure summer sky and across the luscious green grassland, your children raced barefooted, their sweet bell-like laughter carried away by the playful wind.

“I feel like I am being kicked in all directions at once,” you sighed one cold evening, your hands rubbing restlessly all over your stomach. “Surely, this is not normal.”

Sylus wrapped his arms around you from behind. He looked down at you, your pout nearly making him laugh out of complete adoration for you. He couldn’t help but found you endearing whenever you looked frustrated and upset.

“You must be close to giving birth now, right?”

You nodded as you grabbed Sylus’ hand, guiding him to where you felt the most movements in your womb. You smiled when you looked up, seeing his surprised expression when he felt the baby’s strong kick. You answered his inquiry, “The midwife said it wouldn’t be long before the baby drops.”

As soon as you finished saying that, your expression faltered. Sylus noticed the change and he questioned you gently. You tried to brush it aside, but Sylus persisted, demanding to know what was upsetting you so suddenly.

You reluctantly relented. “Sylus,” you started, your voice growing smaller as you prepared for your confession, “I’m…scared.”

His expression softened. He turned you around to face him, but you kept your sight downcast. You could feel Sylus rubbing your cheek in comfort.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, “Speak to me.”

“What if…something goes…wrong.”

Sylus was immediately silent. You slowly looked up. His lips were a tight line, his eyes hardening. You could see him inhaling sharply as he seemed to try to keep his emotions under check for your sake. You then felt him guiding you to your bed.

You both sat down and Sylus was holding your hand tightly in his. At first, he didn’t say anything, almost as if he was trying to gather his thoughts and choose his words carefully. After a few beats, he began to speak:

“I do not wish to lie to you,” he said, mindful of his words, “But…I also do not like thinking of the possibility. All I can do is believe that everything will be fine.”

You looked unassured; your expression still anxious.

He pulled you into his arms. “I refuse to think otherwise,” he continued, his hand rubbing the back of your head soothingly, “You are strong and capable. Our baby is healthy and active. I have no reason to think differently.”

“Sylus…”

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. He looked apologetic as he spoke, “I wish I could take away your worries.”

You rested your cheek against his chest, eyes closed. You could feel the soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. This was…calming, you realized. His presence alone was comforting you, easing your fears. You opened your eyes and looked up at him, hesitant.

“Will you…stay with me? When I give birth?”

He looked at you confused.

“Please…”

He gave you a small smile, his hands cupping your face as his thumbs massaged little circles on your cheeks. “You know men are not allowed in the room.”

“Since when do you follow rules?”

At this, he laughed, conceding immediately. “You’re right,” he said, nuzzling his face against yours, “I will gladly stay with you, my beloved. I don’t want you to ever feel like you are alone, especially during this time.”

You smiled against him, feeling as if the worries you had been shouldering silently was easing. You still felt scared, felt so unsure of yourself, but you knew with Sylus by your side, you could find the confidence to believe that everything would work out in the end.

“Oh!”

“What’s wrong?” Sylus looked down at you, his face hardening.

You laughed as you peered down and felt your belly. You gasped again, laughing louder, “He is really not making it easy on me!”

Sylus relaxed, smiling with you.

“Or she,” Sylus reminded you, his own hand covering your stomach. He stroked it lovingly as he continued to speak, “She could be upset that her mother is scared and anxious.”

Sylus nuzzled his face against yours again, kissing your cheek. “But I hope her mother will feel better knowing I am here.”

You smiled, touched by his attempts at comforting you. “I am,” you answered. You then poked his cheek playfully, your expression puzzled. “But why are you so insistent that the baby is a girl? I thought you said it didn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sylus reaffirmed, grinning, “But we don’t know for sure yet if it is a boy or a girl. I don’t see why we can’t entertain the idea that we could be having a daughter.”

You laughed softly. You wrapped your arms around your large belly. “You say it doesn’t matter, but why do I get the feeling that you are really hoping for a girl?”

He smirked. “Am I?”

He pulled you down into bed, helping you lay on your side, your back resting against his chest. Sylus rubbed your stomach soothingly, his warmth encompassing you. You closed your eyes peacefully as you listened to his calming voice:

“We could have a pretty little daughter,” he began, his smile infectious. “Perhaps she will be as feisty and sweet like her mother. She would be the brightest jewel in the grassland, our precious little treasure.”

“We would have to find a good husband for her,” you quipped teasingly. You opened your eyes and looked up just in time to catch Sylus’ look of utter disdain. You giggled and poked at his cheek again, making him frowned even more. “What is with that look?”

“The very idea displeases me.”

“What about it displeases you?”

“Just…everything.”

You tsked at him. “Be honest,” you said, amused, “what do you not like about this?”

Sylus groaned and looked down at you with a light glare. “You are really going to make me say it?”

You nodded with a grin.

“No boy will be good enough for her.”

You laughed.

“You’re laughing at me,” Sylus said, offended. He had genuinely thought you would be on his side on this matter. “You are actually laughing at me. How impudent.”

You rolled your eyes at him, saying, “I am sure we can find her a perfect match. After all, we were matched perfectly by our parents, right?”

Sylus looked at you defeated. “You are being very unfair.”

“I am being as fair as I can be when we are discussing about our baby, who we still don’t know for sure if it’s a boy or a girl.”

Sylus sighed. “Very well,” he conceded, still unhappy, “You really ruined my good mood.”

You looked at him with mock-pity. “And your baby keeps me up at night. And it’s your fault I can’t see my feet any more—and they are swollen because of you, too. And also—”

“Alright, alright,” he relented, amused, “I know when to call it quits.”

He pulled you back against him, his hand resting over your stomach. He murmured into your ear, “Boy or girl, it doesn’t matter. The baby is already the greatest gift you can give me, so thank you, my beloved.”

You closed your eyes and smiled, letting his gentle ministrations eased you to sleep as you felt the baby you carried calming down, seemingly also lulled by their father’s presence and voice.

One by one, many of the young mothers went into labor with their child. Day after day, week after week, the painful wails and desperate cries of laboring mothers were heard throughout the village as a child was brought forth into the world.

You were the last, and everyone waited with bated breath for your child’s birth. You were already the biggest, and with each new day, you continued to grow uncomfortably bigger. The cold winter month was also settling in, stripping the grassland of its once vibrant colors and life.

On this particular evening, the first snowfall had arrived, already blanketing the grassland in a layer of snow. You had heard the laughter from children as they played, attempting to catch the falling snowflakes on their tongues. You looked down at your belly, rubbing it as you wondered what your child’s first reaction to snow would be like.

“Please come out,” you pleaded to your stubborn baby, “Don’t you want to see the snowfall, too?”

You felt a strong kick, almost as if the baby was responding negatively to your plea and question. You sighed, and huffed resignedly, “Already stubborn like your father…”

“What about me?” Sylus entered the hut just as you finished speaking.

“Nothing,” you lied, giving him a poorly-disguised smile. He knew you were fibbing, but decided it was perhaps in his best interest to not antagonize you during this time. He knew the last couple weeks had been rough on your body and with so many women having already given birth to their babies, he knew your anxiety was also increasing as your own child seemed adamant about prolonging your discomfort.

“Do you want to eat something?” Sylus offered, but you shook your head.

“I think I want to walk.”

“It’s snowing outside,” he answered.

“I know,” you responded, “Maybe I can just walk around the hut. It will help with the pressure around my hips.”

Sylus nodded.

You paced your hut restlessly, one hand on your lower back as the other cradled your large belly. You breathed in and out slowly, wincing in discomfort. Sylus walked up behind you, his hands settling on your hips as he rubbed soothing circles.

“Do you think it’s almost time?” he questioned, worried.

You were about to shake your head, but you winced again in discomfort. “I don’t know,” you admitted, as your hands rested over his appreciatively, silently urging him to press in harder. He complied.

“The last three days have been false pains,” you said, frustrated, “Does the baby not want to be born?”

He chuckled and leaned down to nuzzle his face against your cheek. “The baby probably feels safe inside you, so it doesn’t want to be born yet.”

“I would feel touched by such lies,” you started, turning to peck his cheek to his amusement and delight, “but, Sylus, I am too uncomfortable to put up with your thinly-veiled flatteries.”

“When have I ever flattered you?” he remarked with a teasing grin, walking around to face you. He rubbed your overdue belly with a sympathetic smile. He couldn’t help but found your frustration endearing, though he knew better than to voice such thoughts aloud during this time. Instead, he guided you to bed.

You sat down in between his legs, your back against his chest. His arms wrapped around you, his hands rubbing soothing circles around your gravid middle as he leaned down and nibbled on your neck, whispering huskily, “I know this has been tough on you, my beloved, but I have adored seeing the changes that you have been through to carry our child.”

His brazen touches felt so possessive, as if it made him proud to know that the many changes that had happened to your body was his complete doing. You whimpered and sighed as he continued, seemingly growing bolder with his intents. The featherlight kisses he peppered along your neck felt like such a stark contrast to the lustful words he whispered to your ears.

“So beautiful, so fertile,” he said, his voice so honeyed and sultry, you felt like you were pulsing inside. You could barely keep your breathing steady or your voice quiet. Sylus gazed at you intensely, his scarlet eyes seemed to shimmered with satisfaction. He appeared almost pleased by your flushed doe-eyed look. He continued in the same hushed, sensuous voice, his hands practically groping you all over, “And so voluptuous. You have filled out beautifully, my beloved.”

“Sylus…” Your voice sounded breathless as you reached down to grab at his mischievous hands. You felt a building warmth in your body, his devilish voice and tantalizing words igniting a fire inside. With his teasing ministrations on your sensitive body, you began to crave for more from him. You squeezed his hands.

“What is it?” His breathing stopped for a moment, seeing the aroused look in your eyes.

He smirked.

Sylus leaned in and kissed you, his touches shameless and greedy.

He helped you lay down and as he continued to trail kisses down your neck, his hands were already working on undressing you. You tugged at his own clothes, and he chuckled in amusement at your impatience. He began undressing himself as well, letting all of the clothes fall to the ground. He lay down behind you, his lips trailing along your shoulder as his hand rubbed your much overdue belly. You whined as you felt him rutting against you from behind, his hard member pressing against your slick entrance.

“P-please…please, Sylus…”

You felt your insides throbbing, desperate to be filled by him. You gasped into a pillow as he answered your plea, his massive manhood slowly easing in, drawing out your heavy moans. You felt his hand pressing into your hip, gripping you tightly as he buried himself in you.

You were practically crying with relief, just feeling him sheathed inside you was easing the discomfort you had been feeling these past few weeks. You rocked back against him, a silent invitation. Sylus smirked.

He began moving, but compared to your previous lovemaking with your husband, this time Sylus was careful, his movements slow but precise, still able to draw out your pleased moans. He gauged your reactions, his own pleasure secondary as he was more concerned about your comfort.

“Sy—Sylus…m-more…”

“Are you sure?” His words came out in soft pants. Seeing you so heavy, so close to going into labor with his baby, was arousing him in a way he never knew it could. He wanted nothing more right now than to fuck you like a wild beast, to make you writhe and scream with pleasure. He was only holding himself back for your sake.

When you nodded, unaware of his inner desires, that was enough to break his restraint. You gasped as you felt his thrusts getting harder, feeling it reaching you deeper and deeper. Your fingers curled around a blanket, gripping it tightly as your face was buried against a pillow as you felt him driving into you with more force than before.

You groaned and moaned into the bed, your grip around the blanket vicelike as you felt his length piercing you with precision over and over and over again. You called out his name, your pitch higher than normal. Sylus groaned deeply at the heavenly sound, his arousal clouding his mind with only thoughts of claiming you again and again until you went into labor.

Sylus’ pants grew heavier, his eyes darkening with lust as he took in the sight of you. In his eyes, you looked absolutely perfect like this. On your side, heavily pregnant with his baby, your leg held up by him as he fucked shamelessly into you. Your cries and moans were the sweetest noises he had ever heard.

Sylus reached around you with his other hand, groping your heavy, tender breast, kneading and teasing until your milk leaked and dribbled openly down your chest. At this point, you were too far gone, completely lost in this thick haze of pleasure to even feel any embarrassment or worried about your modesty. Whatever he was doing, you wanted even more from him.

“Don’t stop…don’t stop…ahh…please, Sylus, more, more, more…!” you whined over and over, his name spilling shamelessly from your lips. You could feel your pleasure was cresting, reaching new heights. “…Sylus…Sylus!”

“Fuck!” he hissed as he felt you cumming around his cock. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, one hand squeezing your breast as his other gripped your hip so hard, you would surely bruise by morning. Without a word, he spilled into you, hot and heavy.

Your eyes squeezed shut, lost in this state of euphoria. You moaned, feeling so full. He was cumming into you so much, you felt his release dripping out of you.

You gasped, feeling a twinge in your belly.

“Oh, gods, ah…ah…ah” you panted as you reached for his hand over your breast. You whimpered as you felt an unfamiliar tightening around your stomach, the pain intermingling with the residual pleasure you were feeling. “Sy—Sylus…”

You called for his name weakly, and Sylus was immediately alerted. He looked down at you in concern, feeling your nails scraping against his hand. “What is it? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

You shook your head, but you couldn’t stop the whimpers from escaping your lips. The cramps were worsening and you just wanted to curl up. “Ah…Sylus…my belly hurts…”

At those words, Sylus pulled out of you slowly and more of his release spilled out obscenely. His breath hitched the moment he realized his seed wasn’t the only thing dripping out of you and down your thighs. There was a growing wetness on the bed beneath where you lay.

Your water had broken.

You gasped and clutched your belly, feeling the first pangs of labor as well as the baby descending lower in your womb. There was so much pressure in your hips, you began to panic. Seeing your distress, Sylus immediately dressed and rose to his feet, rushing outside the hut, his deep voice bellowed across the quiet village, “Call for the midwives! It’s time!”

Night descended over this small village once more, and the first snow of winter continued to gently fall, the ground already accumulating several inches from the past hours. The village was quiet, giving the illusion of tranquility, but within one lone hut, the atmosphere was tensed as you labored while several midwives tended to you.

“It won’t be long, child,” a midwife commented, checking the progress of your dilation. Another wiped at your sweat-soaked face with a cooling cloth, giving you a look of sympathy.

You whimpered and gritted your teeth as you breathed through the next pains.

“Easy, easy now,” you heard Sylus’ voice behind you. Cradled in between his long legs, you leaned back against his chiseled chest, panting heavily. You were grateful that he had insisted on staying with you in spite of the midwives’ initial opposition. With only one sharp glare from Sylus, he had everyone yielding to him, none daring to oppose the fearful warrior.

You felt Sylus caressing your small fingers in his hand, this simple act already keeping you grounded and calm. You whimpered quietly, “It hurts so much…”

He looked down at you helplessly. “I know, my beloved, but you’re doing so well. Stay strong.”

You moaned softly as you felt Sylus large hand massaging your hips, easing some of the pain, if only a little. As the minutes ticked by, you felt the pains getting closer and closer until you finally heard the words you were desperately waiting for:

“She is ready to deliver.”

You leaned further back against Sylus as he helped you get into position to start pushing. With your legs spread and propped up, you began pushing at the midwife’s urging. Your eyes widened as you felt the baby shifting inside, dropping lower.

“It…it feels so…big,” you gasped.

Before one of the younger midwives could make a quick remark regarding the genetics in Sylus’ family, he silenced her with a cold glare, making her cowered back. He looked down at you warmly, your hand in his. “That’s it, keep going…”

You pushed for several seconds longer, but honestly to you, it felt like an eternity. You could have sworn the pressure was intensifying, feeling the weight so heavy in your pelvis. Quick, short grunts left your lips as you bore down again. Once the pains ebbed, you collapsed back against Sylus, crying in frustration, “Nothing is happening!”

Sylus shushed you gently as the midwife reassured you that you were progressing well. You found it hard to believe. You panted softly, already feeling your energy drained. Sweat glistened down the sides of your face as you shut your eyes again, body tensing as the next pains arrived. You instinctively started pushing once more, feeling more progress being made this time. All around you, you heard hushed gasps and whispers, but you couldn’t comprehend anything said as you concentrated on birthing your baby.

Without a word, Sylus guided your hand lower and you felt between your legs. You opened your eyes in shock. “So much hair!” you exclaimed, laughing in spite of the agonizing pain you were feeling. Your fingers felt the little tufts of hair again. You couldn’t believe it. This was your baby’s. Your baby was right there.

For this brief instance, you felt your energy renewed as you gave your everything and bore down again, your laboring grunts heard throughout the room. As you pushed, your hand found Sylus’ again and you squeezed it tightly, his presence giving you the strength to persevere through this arduous ordeal.

“Just a little more,” he said, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck. “You are doing so well.”

Your efforts yielded slow result, feeling the baby emerging little by little. When the contractions subsided, you leaned back against Sylus for a brief reprieve, but instead of resting, you whined in frustration when you felt the baby receding a little and negating all of your progress just now.

Sylus whispered praises and encouragement soothingly to you as the midwives also assured you everything would be fine. You barely registered any of the voices, your body demanding your full attention again as you felt the next urge to push.

“Oh, gods…”

You panted softly, your eyes clenched shut as you put all of your focus into pushing out your baby again. You unconsciously squeezed Sylus’ hand, and then you let out a tired cry when you felt the baby’s head emerging fully. You trembled and sobbed, feeling a strange mixture of pain and relief in that moment. You could hear voices all around you encouraging you on, but the words meant nothing to you as you could only focus on the excruciating pain you were enduring.

“Here comes the shoulders, push, child, push!” the midwife’s voice rang loud in the room. You reflexively shook your head, begging silently to any merciful goddess who would take pity on you and end this suffering now.

“Please…I can’t…!” Your grip on Sylus’ hand tightened, your nails digging into his flesh. If he had felt any pain, he did not voice or show it. Instead, you felt his warm breath close to your ear, his soothing voice low and only audible to you.

“I know it hurts, my beloved, but you can’t stop now.” Sylus’ voice pulled you back, and you leaned against him crying softly. He rubbed you up and down, whispering more words of comfort and encouragement. “You’re so close, so close, a little more, my beloved, just a little more…our child is almost here…”

Your breathing was ragged, but you tried to gather what little strength you had left. In spite of your exhaustion, your body was already acting on instinct, already pushing again and you groaned lowly, feeling like you were being spread more and more, feeling each shoulder painfully coming out one at a time.

“Hah…hah…Sylus…ahh…”

“I’m here, I’m here, I won’t leave you,” he whispered, his eyes darting rapidly from your face to his baby slowly emerging from you. He seemed to have stopped breathing as he watched, awestruck, as the baby was born.

You collapsed back against him, sobbing in relief.

Not too long afterwards, the room resounded with the loud cry of a newborn.

“It’s a boy,” the midwife declared after cutting the cord that connected you and your son. The baby was immediately cleaned and prepared to be swaddled.

Sylus stilled at the announcement, the reality of the situation slowly settling in. His face broke out into a wide smile as he looked down at you. “A son, we have a son—”

The joy in the room was short-lived. Sylus was the first to notice you straining again, hearing your soft grunts and whines and seeing the pained look still on your face.

He was immediately tensed. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

You gritted your teeth and then let out another strangled cry. “It still hurts!” You turned, burying your face against his chest again, sobbing. You couldn’t even rest for a moment as you felt the now all too familiar urge to push. You gasped and panted against Sylus’ chest. It couldn’t be…this couldn’t be happening…you had just given birth already…this couldn’t be happening—

“Another child!” One of the younger midwives cried out, alerting everyone else in the hut. There were shocked gasps and mutters as many crowded around while others continued to focus on your first baby who continued to cry.

“Twins,” another muttered, shocked, “She was carrying twins.”

The eldest and most experienced of the group quickly accessed the situation, already barking out orders, “Don’t just stand there! Hurry! Prepare for the second child!”

You did not know whether it was because of the first baby or not, but your second child was coming much quicker. You had no time to rest as your body was already straining again, already feeling that painful ring of fire as your next child started to emerge. Using the last of your strength, you leaned forward, chin to your chest and you bore down, your voice strained as you struggled. You rested for a few seconds and you continued again, and within just another three hard pushes, you delivered your second child, its cry almost immediately joining its older twin.

You fell back against Sylus once more, completely spent both physically but also emotionally. Sylus leaned down, his cheek nuzzling against yours, his praises plentiful.

“Twins?” he questioned, amazed. He kissed your cheek. “Rest, my beloved, rest, I love you.”

Not too long afterwards, the afterbirths were expelled from your body. You were immediately tended to, cleaned and cared for and showered in endless praises for your remarkable feat. You smiled wearily, barely conscious and barely registering any of the competing voices in the room. You had never felt an exhaustion such as this one.

Perhaps it was because of the long, strenuous hours of labor, but it felt like you were drifting in and out of consciousness, unable to decipher what was a dream and what was reality. You were drained entirely, but you knew you could not sleep just yet. You didn’t want to go to sleep right now. You wanted to see your babies. Babies.

You opened your eyes wearily, sensing an approaching figure. You looked up, confused, when the midwife handed you the two swaddled babies. You nervously took them both into your arms, staring down in amazement at the two small red-faced newborns fussing and cooing quietly.

You let out a choked gasp, your tears barely held back as you smiled down at your children. Your children. How surreal, how sweet, those words sounded to you.

“Identical sons,” the matronly midwife said, praising you warmly, “You did well, child.”

She helped you adjust to holding your babies, patiently explaining to you everything you needed to know. When one of your sons started crying again, she helped guide both babies to your nipples, and you gasped softly at feeling both of your sons latching on and suckling hungrily for their first meal. You could feel your milk flowing, entering hungry little mouths. You half-laughed and half-sobbed, unable to even comprehend fully the current surreal situation.

You felt so overwhelmed. You had given birth to not one, but two babies, and they were identical boys. You were now a mother to identical twin boys. You just could not seem to register that thought no matter how many times you repeated it in your head. You looked up at Sylus, and he smiled back just as helplessly, also unable to wrap his head around the current situation.

“Thank you,” he murmured instead, kissing your lips. He smiled tenderly as you gazed at him wonderstruck. “My beloved bride, you have given me not one but two sons.” He kissed you more deeply, drawing out your soft moans. He kept you in his warm, protective embrace for just a few minutes longer as the midwives cleaned the room and prepared for their leave.

He peered down at you and his children, his smile unwavering. For Sylus, there was no greater treasure in the world than the three treasures he now held in his arms. For you and for his children, Sylus was willing to face Heaven and Hell’s wrath, to do everything in his power to keep his beloved family safe and protected.

As he watched you nursed his children, his hand reached up, his finger gingerly stroking one of the twins’ cheek. The baby’s skin felt so soft and smooth and delicate. He was enthralled that these two beautiful little babies came from you, that you had went through such an arduous trial to bring his children into the world, and now you cradled them protectively against your breasts, letting them suckled the precious milk your body was providing for the newborns.

He had never seen such beauty and strength as this, and so it seemed the only thing he could do was willingly let himself fall deeper and deeper in love with you, his beloved.

In the center of the hut, there was a firepit. Flames danced within the space, warming the quaint home.

It had been a few hours since you had given birth, and after making sure both you and the babies were taken care of, everyone had left, including Sylus, leaving you alone with just your sons.

It was still so dark outside. Dawn would not break for a few more hours, so you wondered absently where your husband could have gone this late in the night. You did not idle on those thoughts for too long, your attention focused entirely on the babies you had just birthed hours ago.

You sat up in bed, gazing in wonder at the two sleeping babies sharing the wicker bassinet, still in awe that these two little ones came from your body, conceived from the love between you and Sylus. You smiled as you watched your babies sleep, unable to ignore that they were indeed bigger than most babies born in the village, but not so drastically as many had you fearing for months. You chuckled to yourself, unable to fully fathom how these two babies were inside you just this morning, and now they were asleep right next to you.

One of the twins started hiccupping, breaking you out of your spell. Instinctively, you took him into your arms, carefully holding him over your shoulder. You gently patted his small back, softly comforting your son with soothing words.

“Motherhood looks lovely on you.”

You looked up when you heard Sylus’ voice as he entered the hut covered in a light dusting of freshly-fallen snow. You noticed he was carrying a basket of food in one hand and an extra bassinet in the other. There was also a fur blanket strewn over his shoulder. You raised a brow in confusion, and he chuckled in response.

“Everyone’s been so kind,” he explained as he set everything where they needed to be. He adjusted the second bassinet next to the first one before turning to face you. You handed him the baby in your arms, watching as he carefully placed the infant in his own bassinet.

Almost immediately, both babies started fussing and crying softly. You laughed quietly as you leaned in closer to Sylus, your arms wrapped around his. “They have never slept away from one another before,” you remarked, finding the situation heartwarming.

Sylus nodded, smiling softly. He helped you back into bed to rest before he knelt down on the ground between the two bassinets. He lightly rocked both bassinets at the same time, pleased when his sons calmed down, the gentle motion lulling them back to sleep.

As you lay on your side, watching this sweet scene, you felt so much love and joy in your heart. You yawned softly, and at Sylus’ gentle urging, you allowed yourself to succumb to sleep as well.

When you opened your eyes again a few hours later, you saw the two newborns tucked in Sylus’ arms as he cradled and rocked them while pacing around the hut. His deep, gentle humming was joined only by the warm crackling fire in the hut and the soft whistling winter wind outside.

You felt at peace, as if the world had quieted down. This moment in time felt so surreal, like a sweet dream you never wished to wake up from.

“I love you,” you found yourself saying sleepily, alerting Sylus.

He smiled back and walked over, settling down in bed next to you. You sat up, taking one of the babies from Sylus. You leaned closer to him, gentle eyes flitting back and forth between the two identical babies you both held with so much love and adoration.

Warmer than the fire, you heard Sylus’ gentle murmur, “I love you, too, my beloved.”

The years had rolled by on the grassland, life remaining, more or less, unchanged. This era of prosperity continued with the village now under Sylus’ leadership. You had seen six springs passed since your marriage to Sylus, and from this union, you two were blessed again and again and again.

The warriors are home! came the familiar words from the village and carried all the way down to the field where the sheep grazed.

“Mother, Mother, Father is home! Father is home!” your children ran by you barefooted, many already leaving you behind to rush to the village entrance.

Your twins helped you to your feet, and your hand settled on the large, round bump you carried once more. Another child was on the way. Your seventh.

Swaddled and resting on your back was your sixth, barely ten months old. He cooed happily, seemingly sensing his older siblings’ excitement. You smiled, always delighting in hearing your children’s sweet laughter.

You carefully made your way back to the village, listening fondly as your twins chatted and laughed. They were the spitting image of their father from head to toes, and while they inherited little of your physical appearance, they gained many of your mannerisms and quirks instead.

When you and the twins finally arrived at the village square, a crowd had already formed. After months apart, families were reunited again. This familiar scene had played out so many times before in the past, and yet you never tired of it. As always, there would be a celebration, for the glory and victories these brave men have brought home, but more importantly, to celebrate families reuniting once more.

As you and the twins treaded through the dense crowd, you saw your beloved husband towering in the center. Sylus already had his youngest daughter—barely three—sitting on his shoulders, her little legs swung over his shoulders and her small hands tugging at his hair happily. Your other daughter and son danced circles around their father asking for their turn to be held by him. You laughed softly as you witnessed Sylus’ overjoyed but helpless expression as he tried to accommodate his children.

At the sound of your familiar laughter, Sylus looked up. Seeing your approaching figure, his crimson eyes lit up with joy. He carefully set his daughter down to join her siblings. The twins immediately left your side and ran to their father cheering and already showering him with questions and praises. He greeted his sons affectionately, kneeling down to embrace all of his children and accept their kisses.

Your youngest son was now held in your arms, balanced on your hip as you stood in your place. You gazed at Sylus with the same love and joy as the spring when you had married him. Sylus slowly stood up, sighing blissfully as he took in the sight of you round and heavy again with his child.

“I’m home,” he said the familiar words warmly, and your heart swelled with happiness and love.

“Welcome home,” you responded fondly, smiling as he crossed the distance with just a few short strides. He gathered you into his arms, enveloping you in a familiar warmth and scent only he possessed. You sighed happily against him, only broken out of your daze when you heard your youngest son giggling. He squirmed against you as he held his little arms out for his father. You smiled as Sylus took the baby boy from you, easily holding him in one arm.

Beneath the azure sky, in his loving embrace, you remembered a story Sylus had once told, a memory that was yet to come. The sweet bell-like laughter of your children was carried on the playful wind across the luscious grassland. Surely this moment must be it, you thought, unable to fathom a greater happiness than this.

Sylus knelt down before you, his lips touching your growing belly fondly, his touch gentle and loving.

“My beloved.”

You looked down lovingly at your husband, your heart beating quietly for him as he gently guided your youngest son’s hand to your round belly. He spoke softly to the baby boy, his voice sweet and tender. Sylus looked up, the depths of his love for you reflected in his crimson eyes.

In this moment, you also recalled the elders had long ago told tales of a paradise after life, but you wondered how there could be a greater heaven than the one on the grassland with your lover—your destined half.

Sylus.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace fanfiction #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x reader #lnds fanfics #sylus smut #x — fanfics #me realizing this is the second sylus fic where you guys planted a seed in my head #and it turned into a 10k+ word fic #am i #am i just #that easy to coerce???#is the sylus chokehold that bad?????#(yes)#(but that’s ok)#(my soft sylus agenda will live on heck yeah)#(ok bye thank you for reading stay hydrated you lovely lovely ppl <3)

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