#In a dream you saw / a way to survive / and you were full of joy | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 1 month ago

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pillowtalk — fushiguro toji.

So one evening, when the house is peaceful and the two of you are sitting together, watching Megumi’s small chest rise and fall as he sleeps, Toji finally lets the words slip out. “Do you think… Megumi’s lonely?” His voice is soft, almost tentative. He’s not used to sounding uncertain, but this feels like new territory for him. “Like, maybe he’d do better with a sibling?” The question hangs in the air, unspoken emotions carried within it, waiting for your response.

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence!;

WARNING/S: fluff, romance, nsfw, r-18, smut, rough sex, breeding kink, overstimulation, body praise, kissing, p-i-v sex, fingering, pet names (baby, babe, wife, mama, etc), profanity, love, humor, light-hearted, married life, being in love, sexual intercourse, slice of life, domestic life, family, depictions of sexual acts, depiction of body praise, depiction of naked bodies, mention of sexual innuendo, mention of sexual intercourse, husband! toji, mamaguro! reader;

WORD COUNT: 7k words

NOTE: i think about how mamaguro was taken too soon from toji and megumi and how maybe they were thinking about wanting another kid and just how domestic their life was. i like to think about toji!househusband too fr. like if there was a character that could be the way of the househusband, it would be fushiguro toji, thank you. thank you for listening to my tedtalk!!! anyway, i love you all <3

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kinktober 2024 - kayu's version

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HIS LIFE NOW WAS A FAR CRY FROM HIS OLD LIFE. Toji Fushiguro never thought he'd find peace, much less happiness. His life had been a series of battles, betrayals, and constant survival. But then you came along, softening the sharp edges of his world, bringing warmth where there had only been cold.

He remembers the day he first saw you. It was as if the world had found itself in a tailspin and he was in it. His world changed when you came into his life. Everything felt like it was worth finding wonder in.

With how you looked at him with eyes full of understanding, tenderness. There was nothing of pity or grievance. There was always warmth. Warmth he didn't think he would ever deserve. Somehow, you'd seen something in him worth saving, something worth loving.

You gave him a family, a real family—not just in the blood that runs through his veins but in the small, everyday moments that fill the spaces between. You gave him everything he could ever want. Everything that he thought could only be achieved in dreams.

Mornings over coffee, the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window, your laugh echoing softly through the room. The gentle way you cradle your son, Megumi, in your arms, whispering stories to him with a voice so full of love it makes Toji’s chest ache in the best possible way.

Every time he looks at Megumi, he feels a rush of gratitude so overwhelming it almost brings him to his knees. Your son has his eyes, that piercing gaze that cuts through the nonsense of the world, but he has your smile, that Toji was sure of. He was just as much happy about it too.

When he looked at Megumi, he could find that small, quiet curve that seems to promise the universe that all will be well. It was waiting for him on his son's beautiful face as much as it was on your own beautiful lips.

Fushiguro Toji never thought he’d care so much about something so trivial, but here he is, caring more than he ever imagined possible. His son's smile brought him as much joy to see as it does when you too smile at him.d

He watches Megumi toddling around the living room, his tiny hands grasping at the air as he learns to walk, determination etched on his face. Toji's heart swells with a fierce kind of pride.

In moments like these, he understands what people mean when they talk about the best things in life. It’s not the money, the power, or the next fight to win. It’s his son’s first steps, the weight of your hand in his, the soft, steady rhythm of your breathing beside him at night.

You've given him a home—not just a house with walls and a roof but a place where he feels like he belongs, where he isn't running from shadows or haunted by the ghosts of his past. A place where, for the first time in his life, he feels like he deserves to stay.

Toji never thought he’d be here, never thought he’d be the kind of man who could love so deeply, who could feel so much. But you changed that. You changed everything. And as he stands there, watching Megumi, he knows that this right here, right now is the happiest he’s ever been.

Toji’s gaze shifts from Megumi to you, who are quietly watching the two of them with a serene smile. Your presence brings a calm to the chaos that once defined his life. The way you hold Megumi’s tiny hand as he wobbles toward you, the soft encouragement in your voice, it all creates a sanctuary that Toji never thought he’d find.

In the evenings, when the world quiets down and the house is bathed in the golden glow of the setting sun, Toji often finds himself reflecting on how far he’s come. He thinks about the days when his future seemed so uncertain, when the idea of a family felt like an impossible dream. Now, every moment spent with you and Megumi feels like a precious gift, a beautiful reality he’d only dared to hope for.

As Megumi eventually collapses into a giggling heap on the floor, Toji chuckles softly. You come over and join them, your laughter mingling with his as you all enjoy the simple joy of being together.

Toji sits back and watches, his heart full. He thinks about the sacrifices he’s made and the battles he fought. Each scar, each hard-earned lesson, has led him to this moment—the sweetest victory of all.

In the quiet moments, when it’s just the three of you, Toji often finds himself lost in thought. He marvels at how you’ve created a life filled with warmth and love, and how Megumi is growing up surrounded by everything he never had.

He realizes that his past, with all its pain and darkness, was worth it for the chance to build this future with you. He feels a profound sense of gratitude, not just for what you’ve given him, but for the strength and resilience you’ve shown in building this family together.

When he tucks Megumi into bed at night, he’s reminded of the importance of the little rituals. The way Megumi’s eyes flutter closed as Toji reads him a bedtime story, the way he clings to the small toy you both picked out together, and the peaceful sigh he gives as he drifts off to sleep. Toji knows that these moments are fleeting, but they are precious.

As he stands by the doorway, watching over his sleeping son, Toji reaches out and takes your hand. You squeeze it gently, a silent promise of the love and support you’ve always given him. He turns to you, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings.

“I never thought I’d have a life like this.” he says softly, his voice filled with emotion. “You’ve given me everything I never knew I needed. I don’t know how to thank you, but I hope you know how much you mean to me.”

You smile, your eyes glistening with love and understanding. “You don’t have to thank me. This our family, our home, its all I ever wanted too. We’ve created something beautiful together, and that’s more than enough.”

Toji wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as he gazes once more at the peaceful scene before him. In that moment, he knows that he has everything he could ever ask for. The life he shares with you and Megumi is his greatest achievement, his greatest joy. And as he holds you close, he realizes that this is exactly where he’s meant to be—home.

The nights are often filled with a gentle stillness, punctuated only by the soft sounds of Megumi’s breathing as he sleeps. Toji finds these quiet moments to be some of the most precious. He cherishes the tranquility that envelops your family, feeling as though he’s finally found his place of peace after years of turmoil.

In the early mornings, when the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, Toji enjoys watching you and Megumi. He loves the way you wake up with a soft smile, the kind that says everything is right in the world.

As you prepare breakfast, Toji often stands by, watching with admiration. You move through the routine with an ease and grace that mesmerize him, the way you hum a soft tune or how you softly chat with Megumi, turning the mundane into something magical.

Mornings are Toji’s favorite time to bond with his son. He takes Megumi in his arms, holding him close as he prepares to start the day. They play together, their laughter filling the room with an infectious joy that makes Toji’s heart swell.

He sees so much of you in Megumi; Everything he loves about you blossomed in your beautiful son. Megumi had the same curious eyes, the same warm smile—and it makes him fall in love with both of you all over again.

On weekends, the family often goes on small adventures. Whether it’s a stroll through the park, a visit to a nearby museum, or a picnic by the river, Toji treasures these outings.

He loves seeing the world through Megumi’s eyes, watching as his son discovers new things and experiences the simple joys of life. He takes pride in being a part of these moments, knowing that he’s helping to create cherished memories for his family.

At night, after Megumi is asleep and the house quiets down, Toji and you find time to connect. These moments of solitude are a chance to share your thoughts and dreams, to reflect on the day and plan for the future.

The conversations are often deep and meaningful, touching on everything from hopes and fears to the little details of daily life. It’s in these conversations that Toji feels most connected to you, realizing how deeply you understand and support him.

Sometimes, Toji thinks back to the days when his life was filled with chaos and uncertainty. He can’t believe how far he’s come, how much he’s changed. And every time he looks at you or Megumi, he’s reminded of just how much he’s gained. The family he’s built with you is a testament to the love and resilience you both share.

As he drifts off to sleep beside you, Toji feels a profound sense of contentment. The days are filled with laughter and love, the nights with peace and connection. He knows that his past is behind him, that he’s finally found the life he was meant to have.

In the quiet darkness, Toji holds you close, grateful for the life you’ve created together. He’s found something he never thought possible—a home, a family, and a love that makes everyday worth living.

And as he whispers a quiet “thank you” into the night, he knows that the greatest gift he’s ever received is the love and happiness you and Megumi have brought into his life.

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HE REALLY THINKS THIS IS THE BEST LIFE ANYONE CAN ASK FOR. Fushiguro Toji enjoys the life you’ve built together. He really does. But lately, a thought has been lingering in his mind, one that keeps surfacing during the quiet moments.

He wonders if maybe life would be even better, fuller—if you and he were to give Megumi a sibling. It’s not that he doesn’t love the way things are now. Ever since Megumi was born, everything shifted naturally; your priorities changed, and together, you’ve navigated this new life of parenthood seamlessly.

But still, Toji can’t help but worry. Megumi is growing up fast—already past his first birthday and nearing his second. He’s independent in his own quiet way, rarely showing interest in playing with other kids when given the chance. Toji wonders if maybe it’s because Megumi feels a little lonely, being an only child.

Toji doesn’t voice these thoughts out loud often, but they weigh on his mind. You’ve both done well to balance your lives, your love, and your responsibilities. But he imagines another child, a little sibling for Megumi—someone to share those quiet afternoons and keep him company.

Maybe it’s time to think about it, he muses. After all, family has always been at the center of his thoughts, and adding to yours feels like the natural next step.

Your husband hasn’t brought it up yet, not directly. It’s hard for him to find the right moment, the right words. He’s not one for long conversations or deep discussions, but you know him well enough to notice when something is on his mind.

Lately, he’s been watching Megumi more closely, observing the way your son plays quietly by himself, content in his little world but lacking the spark of excitement that other kids seem to find when surrounded by their peers.

He’s seen it when you’re both at the park, Megumi clinging to your leg instead of running around with the other children. He doesn’t push it—Megumi is still young, and Toji knows better than anyone that everyone moves at their own pace.

But the nagging thought remains: maybe what Megumi needs isn’t just more playdates or time with other kids. Maybe he needs someone at home, a sibling to grow up with, to bond with. Someone who’ll always be there, someone who’ll understand him in a way only a sibling can.

In those quiet moments when the house is calm, and Megumi is tucked away in bed, Toji imagines what it might be like. The sounds of laughter from another room, two pairs of small feet running down the hallway.

The way you’d smile, holding another little one in your arms. The thought makes him feel warm, something he doesn’t experience often. It’s not just about Megumi anymore, he knows that too well. It’s also about the life you’re building, the family you’ve already started. And deep down, he knows he wants to keep growing it.

Still, he wonders how you’ll feel about it. You’ve both been so focused on Megumi, on making sure he’s happy and cared for. Will you think it’s too soon? Will you worry about the shift it would cause in your lives again, the added responsibility?

These thoughts swirl in his mind as he considers how to approach the subject. He doesn’t want to push, but the desire is there, quietly persistent, tugging at him with each passing day.

So one evening, when the house is peaceful and the two of you are sitting together, watching Megumi’s small chest rise and fall as he sleeps, Toji finally lets the words slip out.

“Do you think… Megumi’s lonely?” His voice is soft, almost tentative. He’s not used to sounding uncertain, but this feels like new territory for him. “Like, maybe he’d do better with a sibling?”

The question hangs in the air, unspoken emotions carried within it, waiting for your response.

You pause for a moment, taking in Toji’s words. It’s not a question you expected, but knowing him, you realize this has been on his mind for a while. His concern for Megumi is clear, and the idea of giving your son a sibling is something you’ve thought about before, though not as seriously. But now, hearing it from Toji, you realize it’s more than just a passing thought—it’s a real possibility.

You glance over at Megumi, fast asleep in his crib, peaceful and unaware of the weight of this conversation. He’s always been a quiet, introspective child, and it’s true—he doesn’t seem to enjoy the company of other kids all that much.

Your little boy is happy to be around you both, that was true enough. He always loves spending time with you both. But with other kids? It's a tough crowd when it comes to your little boy.

But you’ve always assumed he’d grow out of it, that he’d find his own way to connect. Still, there’s a small part of you that wonders if Toji is right. Maybe Megumi is lonely, and maybe the best thing for him would be to have a sibling to share his life with.

You shift closer to Toji, resting your head against his shoulder. “I don’t know, baby.” you admit softly. “Maybe. He does seem to keep to himself a lot… but he’s still so young. Do you really think a sibling would make a difference?”

Toji lets out a low sigh, his arm wrapping around you as he considers his words. “I think it could. I mean, I didn’t grow up with much family, and I turned out…” He trails off, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Well, let’s just say I don’t want that for Megumi. He deserves more.”

You smile at his attempt to lighten the mood, but the thought lingers in your mind. Toji’s childhood was different—lonely in a way that you know he doesn’t talk about often. Maybe that’s why this means so much to him. Maybe he wants Megumi to have something he never did.

“You think we’re ready for that?” you ask, glancing up at him. It’s a big decision, one that would change everything, again. But there’s something comforting about the idea, too. “I mean with how busy we are and Megumi…”

You’ve seen Toji with Megumi, the way he’s softened since becoming a father. And you love it. More than anything, it was what you think that fulfilled your life — making Toji a father and building a family. him.

But you haven’t thought about it just yet. But now that you’re thinking about it….the thought of adding another little one to your family, watching Toji bond with another child, feels right in a way that you hadn’t fully realized until now.

Toji meets your gaze, his expression more serious now. “I think we are. It’s not gonna be easy, but nothing ever is, right? We made it work with Megumi, and we’ll make it work again.”

His confidence reassures you, and the weight of the decision starts to feel less overwhelming. You’re not just thinking about yourselves anymore; you’re thinking about Megumi and the family you’re building together.

You lean into him, letting his warmth and the quiet of the evening wrap around you both. “Okay, okay….” you say softly, the decision settling into your chest. “Let’s think about it. For Megumi. For us.”

Toji presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice full of something deeper than just words. “For all of us.”

But thinking was one thing. Acting on it, especially when the two of you were so deeply drawn to each other—was something entirely different. Whenever the subject of expanding your family surfaced in conversation, it wasn’t long before the connection between you and Toji shifted into something more intense, more immediate.

There was an undeniable pull between you, something that seemed to ignite in the quiet moments when you were alone together, reminding you just how much you desired one another.

It would often happen in the evening, after a long day of work. The two of you would settle into the comfort of your apartment, exhaustion slipping away as you relaxed on the couch after dinner.

Toji would always keep you close, one arm draped over your shoulders, his hand absently tracing patterns on your skin. The world outside would fade as you settled into your quiet bubble, just the two of you in the stillness of the night.

And then, it would happen slowly at first, with a shared glance, a quiet breath, and the unspoken understanding that there was something deeper simmering beneath the surface.

Toji, always so sure in his movements, would gently guide you from the couch to the soft embrace of the bed, laying you down against the pillow with deliberate care, as if you were something precious. His hands would roam, teasing and familiar, as he removed your clothes piece by piece, his fingers gliding over your skin like he’d memorized every inch of you.

By the time his hand slid between your thighs, you were already lost to him, to the way he touched you with a practiced skill that sent shivers down your spine. His fingers worked their way inside you, slow and deliberate at first, drawing out every bit of pleasure as your body responded to him.

The feeling was electric, the tension between you mounting with each passing second. Toji’s gaze was fixed on you, dark and focused, as if nothing else in the world mattered but the way you were falling apart beneath his touch.

You couldn’t think about anything else in those moments, not about the future or about giving Megumi a sibling. All you could focus on was the sensation of Toji’s fingers moving inside you, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and the sound of your breath hitching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

Toji knew exactly what he was doing. He always did. The way he touched you, the way he whispered your name in that low, gravelly voice; it drove you wild, leaving you breathless and aching for more. You were wrapped up in him, in the way his fingers curled inside you, his thumb brushing over your most sensitive spot with a precision that made your head spin.

Your back arched, hips instinctively rolling against his hand as the pleasure built, your thoughts scattered in every direction except the present moment. Toji’s lips found your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he whispered, “You’re all mine,” his voice thick with want.

And in that moment, you were. Completely, entirely his. The rest of the world faded away, and all that mattered was the feeling of being lost in him, your body responding to his touch as you let go of everything except the pure, unadulterated pleasure he gave you.

Toji’s fingers moved with a deliberate intensity, his pace quickening as he watched you unravel beneath him. His focus was sharp, every movement calculated to drive you closer to your limit.

You couldn’t hold back the sounds that escaped you—soft gasps, whispers of his name, every noise pulling him deeper into his need for you. His lips brushed against your skin, kissing along your neck, while his other hand gripped your waist, holding you in place as your body arched against him.

"That's it, baby." he murmured, voice rough and low. The heat between you was almost unbearable, the air thick with the tension that always seemed to surge whenever you were alone together.

He was lost in you, in the way your body responded to his touch. His fingers curled inside you, hitting just the right spot that made your breath catch, your hips instinctively lifting toward him as the pressure built in your core.

You were so close, the pleasure winding tight within you, and Toji could sense it. His thumb circled your clit with just the right amount of pressure, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"You’re gonna come for me, aren’t you?" he whispered, his lips grazing your ear, the command in his voice leaving no room for anything else. "Let go. I’ve got you."

And just like that, the tension inside you snapped. Your body tensed, then released in a flood of warmth and sensation, a wave of pleasure crashing over you as you cried out, hands clutching at the sheets beneath you.

Toji’s fingers didn’t stop, drawing every last bit of pleasure from you as he held you through it, his lips pressed against your skin, murmuring soft, unintelligible words of praise.

Your body trembled beneath him, the aftershocks of your orgasm still pulsing through you as you tried to catch your breath. Toji slowly withdrew his fingers, but his touch remained gentle, his hand trailing softly along your thigh as he looked down at you, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“You’re perfect like this, baby.” he said quietly, almost to himself. His hand moved to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his eyes softening as they met yours. “Always so damn perfect.”

Your body is still coming down from the high when you look at him, the warmth of his breath brushing against your skin as he hovers above you, his smirk deepening. There's a glint in his eyes, that unmistakable fire, as if the conversation you’d had earlier is still echoing in the back of his mind.

You don’t even have to think too hard about it; it’s like an instinct when you tell him, voice breathless, “I want to give you a baby again.”

Toji’s grin widens, his brow arching slightly. “Oh, is that right?” he teases, his hand trailing lazily down your side, lingering on your hip. But then he leans in closer, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “What’s stopping you then, huh?”

You shake your head vigorously, letting out a soft hum of disagreement, not entirely trusting his intentions. Toji’s always been a dirty fucking liar when it comes to things like this, promising things he knows will make you weak, things you know he’ll never deliver on.

Yet somehow, even knowing that, you still find it in yourself to love him. And maybe that's why, despite everything, you still let him have you like this, completely bare, letting him slide into you raw, no barriers between you.

He wastes no time, pushing your legs back, your knees nearly pressed up to your chest as he thrusts into you. The intensity is overwhelming, each deep stroke driving you further into the mattress, making your body shake under his relentless pace.

Toji's grip is strong, controlling, one hand pinning your thigh back as the other rests on your waist, holding you in place like he owns you. And in these moments, it feels like he does.

He has a hold on you in ways you can’t quite explain, two different kinds of control—one physical, the other something deeper, emotional, binding you to him in a way that’s undeniable.

“You’re really getting into it huh, sweetheart?” His voice drips with mock sweetness, but there’s a dark edge to it, each word paired with a heavy, punishing thrust that knocks the breath out of you. “You want me to fill up that sweet little belly?”

His words are a tease, malicious in the way only Toji can be, his voice laced with cruel affection. His grin matches it, sharp and selfish, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to you, how every filthy promise pushes you closer to the brink. Your mind is spinning, caught between wanting to resist and wanting to give in completely.

Then, his pace slows slightly, his hand gripping your jaw as he forces you to look up at him, his gaze locking with yours. The teasing drops, replaced with something far more commanding. His eyes burn with an intensity that makes your stomach flip, and his voice, low and rough, sends shivers down your spine.

“Gimme fuckin’ words, baby.” he growls, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. “I need words.”

Your breath hitches, the weight of his command settling heavy in the pit of your stomach. You know what he’s asking for—he needs to hear it from you, needs the affirmation that you’re his, that you want this just as much as he does. His pace haughtily picks up again, a merciless rhythm, every thrust driving deeper as he waits for your response.

“I—” you try to catch your breath, your voice shaky as you struggle to form the words. But the sensation is too much, the way he’s filling you, stretching you, making it hard to think about anything but the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body. “I want you,” you finally manage, voice barely above a whisper.

Toji’s dark green eyes narrow slightly, unsatisfied with your answer. He grabs your chin harder, his pace growing even more ruthless. “That’s not enough, baby.” he growls, his voice a dangerous rasp. “Tell me. What do you want?”

Your mind is foggy, body trembling beneath him, and you can feel yourself on the edge again, teetering close to the point of no return. His dominance over you in this moment is absolute, and you can’t fight it, can’t resist the pull of his command.

“I want you to fill me up, babe.” you finally gasp, your words spilling out in a rush, almost desperate. “I want your baby, Toji.”

His response is immediate, a low, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest as he picks up the pace, driving into you with a newfound intensity.

“That’s my good girl right there, hm?” he growls, his grip tightening as he slams into you with brutal force, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You’re gonna take all of me, aren’t you? Gonna let me give you exactly what you asked for.”

Your body answers for you, already falling apart beneath him as his words send you spiraling into another wave of pleasure. Every thrust pushes you deeper into the mattress, your legs shaking, your breath ragged as Toji takes what’s his, just like he always does.

And even through the haze of pleasure, you know there’s no escaping him. Toji has you—mind, body, and soul—and there’s nothing you wouldn’t give him, nothing you wouldn’t do for him.

Toji’s grip on you tightens as the intensity between you both heightens. His hips slam into yours with an unrelenting force, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, driving you closer to the edge with every movement.

Your husband was too good at playing this game of pleasure. You were hanging on for dear life, stuck in a pleasurable pandemonium. The rough rhythm of his body against yours, combined with the filthy words spilling from his mouth, sends shockwaves through your entire being.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby.” he growls, his voice dark with possession. “You’re gonna let me fill you up, huh? Make you mine all over again, just like you want.”

You can barely form coherent thoughts as your body responds to him, legs trembling with the sheer force of his thrusts. The sounds of your shared breathing, the slap of skin against skin, and the creak of the mattress fill the room, an unspoken rhythm between you two that’s as primal as it is intimate.

You’re completely at his mercy, pinned beneath him, helpless to do anything but feel. This man occupies everything in you as easily as you breathe. And you wanted him. You wanted more of him.

“Toji—” you gasp, his name leaving your lips like a prayer, your nails digging into his shoulders, holding on to him for dear life. Your whole world narrows down to this moment, the heat of his body on yours, the way he’s completely taken over your senses.

He releases one of your legs, shifting slightly to lean down, his lips brushing against your ear, hot and heavy with every breath. “You’re gonna take all of it, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his tone laced with both a command and a dark kind of affection. “Every last drop.”

His words send a jolt through you, pushing you closer to the edge you’ve been teetering on. The pressure builds inside you, winding tight in your belly, threatening to snap at any second. And Toji knows it. He can feel the way your body clenches around him, the way your breath hitches with every thrust.

“Say it again, baby.” he demands, his pace somehow growing even more brutal, hips pounding into you relentlessly. “Tell me what you want.”

Your heart races, and it takes everything in you to gasp out the words between broken breaths. “I want you to fill me up… I want your baby, Toji, please—” Your voice is desperate, the plea tumbling out before you can stop it.

The satisfaction in his eyes is unmistakable, his lips curving into a wicked grin as he growls in response. “Good girl.”

And with that, he pushes you over the edge. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing beneath him as the pleasure crashes through you, wave after wave, your voice breaking as you cry out.

Toji doesn’t stop, his thrusts driving deeper, harder, drawing every last bit of pleasure from you until you’re left trembling, barely able to catch your breath.

He’s close too; you can feel it in the way his movements grow more erratic, his grip on your hips tightening as he chases his own release. He lets out a low, guttural moan, his pace faltering for a moment before he slams into you one final time, his hips flush against yours as he fills you completely, the warmth of him spilling deep inside you.

Toji’s body goes tense for a brief second, and then he collapses against you, his breath ragged and heavy as he rides out the last waves of his release. His hand moves to brush a strand of hair from your face, his eyes softened now, the intense fire in them dimmed into something more tender.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, still holding you close, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. “You’re perfect, perfectttt. Just like that, baby.” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, the raw edge gone. “Every damn time.”

You’re still catching your breath, your body exhausted but sated, the warmth of him pressed against you grounding you in the moment. There’s something comforting in the way he holds you after, a quiet reassurance that, despite his teasing and rough exterior, there’s a deep connection between you both that runs far beyond words.

Toji’s body stays pressed against yours, his breathing still heavy as he recovers from the intensity of what you just shared. The room feels warm, the quiet between you filled with the soft sounds of your breathing, the lingering sensation of him still deep inside you. For a moment, it’s peaceful, like you’re both floating in the afterglow.

But that peace doesn’t last long.

You feel him stir against you, his lips brushing over your skin, trailing soft kisses along your collarbone. His hand slides over your waist, fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare skin. There’s a shift in the air, a subtle change in his energy that you recognize immediately. He’s not done—not even close.

Your husband recovers so fast, you couldn't even help but wonder what sort of super human he is. When he gets excited, he won't stop until he makes that excitement have fulfilment. And Fushiguro Toji will take an take. His monster of pleasure demands to be full.

“Toji…” you whisper, your voice already betraying the anticipation that’s starting to build again. You feel his smirk against your skin, the low chuckle that vibrates through his chest as he kisses his way up to your neck, nipping softly at your pulse point.

“You didn’t think I was finished with you, did you? Need for my come to take, baby. Need to give you as much as possible.” he murmurs, voice dark with intent. His hand moves down, fingers grazing the inside of your thigh, teasing, as if testing your readiness for what’s to come. “Besides, baby, Iknow you can take more. You always do.”

Before you can even respond, Toji pulls out of you slowly, the absence of him leaving you aching, only to have him slide back in a moment later—deeper, harder, the sudden stretch drawing a sharp gasp from your lips. He groans softly, his hands gripping your hips as he starts moving, this time with a slower, more deliberate rhythm.

His hips roll against yours, each thrust precise, dragging out the sensation with agonizing slowness. You can feel him fully, every inch of him stretching you, filling you up completely as he starts to build up the intensity again. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him to take more of you.

“Toji—” you moan, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm muscles of his back as he presses you deeper into the mattress.

“Shh, baby. ” he whispers, leaning down so that his lips are inches from yours, his breath hot against your skin. “I’m gonna take my time with you, like I always do. You'd let me, won't you, mama?”

And he does. He moves at his own pace, each thrust measured and controlled, as if he’s savoring every second of being inside you. His eyes lock onto yours, that commanding intensity from earlier returning as he watches every reaction you give him.

It’s almost too much, the way he’s making you feel so exposed, so vulnerable beneath him, but you can’t tear your gaze away. You’re completely at his mercy. Perhaps even more than before. It was just the way it was between the two of you. And you can't help but want it.

His hand moves between your bodies, fingers finding your clit, rubbing in slow, tight circles that send sparks shooting through your core. The combination of his deep, deliberate thrusts and the focused attention on your most sensitive spot is overwhelming, and you can already feel the pressure building again, faster this time.

“You’re such a good baby girl, my little wife, huh?” he groans, his voice gravelly with desire. “You love it, don’t you? Love the way I fuck you, mama.”

You nod, unable to form words, your body reacting to him instinctively. His thick thumb presses harder against your clit, and your hips buck up toward him, chasing the pleasure that’s building so quickly it’s almost dizzying.

“Use your words, my baby. I need your words to be clear, hm?” he orders, his voice sharp and commanding. “Tell me how much you love it.”

“I— I love it, babe. I….Oh–” you gasp, barely able to get the words out as the pleasure coils tight inside you. “I love how you fuck me, Toji.”

“That’s it, baby. Good girl, my pretty wife.” he groans, his pace picking up as he drives into you harder now, more relentlessly. “You’re gonna come for me again, aren’t you? Like the good little wife you are? Gonna make me a daddy again, huh?”

You can feel yourself getting closer, every nerve in your body on fire as he takes you right to the edge again. His hand doesn’t stop, rubbing firm circles against your clit, and the pressure inside you becomes unbearable.

“Toji, please—” you moan, your voice desperate.

“I know, baby, I know.” he whispers, his pace quickening, his thrusts becoming rougher, more erratic as he chases his own release. “Come for me. I want to feel you fall apart again.”

His words push you over the edge, and your orgasm crashes through you, harder than before. Your body clenches around him, back arching as your eyes squeeze shut, the pleasure almost too much to handle. Toji groans low in his throat as he feels you tighten around him, his hips slamming into yours as he rides out every wave of your release.

You’re barely coming down from your high when you feel him thrust into you one last time, his grip on your hips bruising as he finally lets go, his own release hitting him hard. He moans your name, the sound of it rough and primal, as he fills you completely, his body going rigid above you.

For a long moment, neither of you move, the room filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, your bodies still tangled together. Toji’s weight is comforting against you, grounding you as you come back down from the intensity of everything that just happened.

Finally, he pulls out slowly, rolling onto his back beside you. His arm reaches out, pulling you close so that you’re curled against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder. There’s a soft, satisfied hum in his throat as he presses a kiss to your forehead, his fingers lazily stroking your arm.

“You’re something else, baby.” he murmurs, his voice full of lazy affection, though there’s still that edge of satisfaction in it, like he knows exactly how much control he has over you.

You don’t need to respond—he already knows how deeply he affects you, how much you need him just as much as he needs you. And as you lie there in the quiet, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you can’t help but think about how, despite all of Toji’s roughness and teasing, there’s no place you’d rather be than here, in his arms. And you wish, so desperately, that you could give him another child.

══════════════════

epilogue

The next morning, you’re still tangled up in the sheets, but it’s not out of luxury. You try to move, but as soon as you shift an inch, your body protests with an aching reminder of exactly what Toji had done to you last night. Every muscle feels like it’s been through a battle, and you can't help but groan as you flop back onto the bed, surrendering to the pain.

From the doorway, you hear the sound of little footsteps padding across the floor. Megumi toddles in, clutching a stuffed animal under his arm, his wide eyes peeking over the edge of the bed. Behind him, Toji strides in, smirking like the smug devil he is.

“Morning, baby.” Toji says, far too chipper for someone who’d spent the entire night wrecking you. He’s holding a tray with what looks like breakfast—eggs, toast, and even a small bowl of fruit—but what stands out is the cup of coffee that you need more than air right now.

“Morning.” you croak, wincing as you try to sit up, only to immediately regret it. “I can’t feel my legs, babe. Pretty sure you broke me.”

Toji lets out a low chuckle, clearly proud of himself. “Yeah? Thought you liked it when I went all out.”

“Liking it and being able to walk after are two different things, you know.” you grumble, pulling the blanket up higher as Megumi stares at you with that same curious expression.

Toji sets the tray down on the bedside table, then leans down to kiss your forehead. “Guess I’ll have to carry you everywhere today, huh?” His voice is thick with amusement, and you shoot him a half-hearted glare, but honestly, you’re too tired to fight back.

“Please do, babe. I’m basically a noodle.”

Just then, Megumi climbs up onto the bed, his little hands gripping the edge as he pulls himself up with determination. He plops down beside you, his stuffed animal tucked under his chin. You smile, your heart warming despite the soreness, and Toji hands you the tray, still smirking like he’s king of the world.

“Breakfast in bed, as promised,” he says, crossing his arms like he’s just done you the biggest favor in the world. “Made it with Megumi. Though, uh, you might wanna avoid the toast. He helped with that.”

You glance down at the toast in question, one piece charred to a crisp, the other half-raw in the middle. “I see his culinary skills are coming along nicely.”

Toji laughs, sitting down at the edge of the bed. “Hey, he’s learning. Can’t all be naturals like me.”

You raise an eyebrow, but before you can shoot back a sarcastic remark, Megumi climbs into Toji’s lap, looking between the two of you with that innocent, wide-eyed look only toddlers can pull off. “Hm, hm. I love my good house husband, really.”

“As you should, baby.” He snickers back at you. “No one else will be like this for you but me.”

“I know, I know.” You say as you continue to eat.

He smiles and kisses your head. “Good.”

“Toji, babe….” you say, setting the tray aside and carefully reaching out to ruffle Megumi’s hair. “If I can’t walk today, you're on diaper duty.”

Toji looks genuinely horrified for a split second. "Now, wait a minute—"

"All your fault, Mr. 'let me give you a baby,��" you tease, biting into your eggs while giving him a pointed look. "So, now you get to deal with the consequences."

Megumi looks up at him, blinking with his bright big eyes, and Toji sighs dramatically. "Fine, fine." he says, giving you that classic Toji smirk. “But next time, you’re gettin’ the easy job.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a playful smile on your face. “Next time, maybe go easy on me so I can still stand.”

Toji grins, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, voice low and teasing. “No promises, baby.”

And with that, the morning unfolds with you lounging in bed, Fushiguro Megumi occasionally wandering over to offer you his stuffed animal, and Toji trying (and failing) to get through diaper duty without swearing under his breath. You can’t help but laugh at the sight of him, the big, tough man reduced to toddler chaos.

But despite everything;

the soreness, the teasing, the burnt toast—you wouldn’t have it any other way.

This is life.

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beingharsh · 4 months ago

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so it turns out they're taking away the dreams in which you saw a way to survive and you were full of joy

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lucygxybaird · 4 days ago

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billy x reader - reader turns billy into a vampire

tw: injury, death (i guess??)

Billy has never been the sort of man to count his days — he’s been too busy scraping by, working from dawn til dusk, if not simply trying to survive under a hail of bullets and enmity that sometimes feels unrelenting.

There have been times where he’s felt the whole world is against him, and if his faith in God had been strong enough, he would wonder what exactly he’d done to earn the wrath of the Almighty. Loss, violence and grief have dogged his steps since he was sixteen, but he was able to bear it all, either through sheer stubbornness or his belief that he was doing the right thing.

And then he lost you.

Whatever force that fueled him, whether it’s the soul as his mother would have claimed, or the single-minded fire which separates man from beast, shuddered and died the moment he saw you lying there. So still, your skin waxen and white, your eyes half-hidden behind lowered lashes that didn’t fully conceal your empty gaze. He’d cradled you in his arms for hours — even now, he’s not sure for how long — until Manuela had finally convinced him to let you rest.

And then you came home.

It took weeks, long enough for the winter to begin bleeding into spring. But you returned to him, standing outside his window, your icy fingers caressing his face as you told him you needed to be invited in. He didn’t understand, at first; but when you explained everything, when you told him what you were, he’d felt only a joy so intense that it bordered on pain. It didn’t matter to him what you needed to sustain you, just that you’d returned to him.

He had asked you — or tried to, anyway — if you would change him. He’s desperate to be with you forever, to never risk losing you again, but there’s a whisper of temptation, of yearning for something else. The idea that he never has to fear illness again, that silent specter which has laid waste to so much in his life.

For so long, he’s expected that the thread of his fate will be cut by a bullet, but always — with each sore throat, a sniffle, an ache he can’t quite explain — he wonders if it’s his turn. If he will die, ashen and wracked with coughing, soaked with sweat, cheeks sunken and eyes immense in his face, the way his mother and brother did. If you would have to watch him fade away, dirty snow melting into the soil, just as he had to do.

But if you change him, he’ll be free of both, free from the fear of guns and fever.

Compared to being with you for eternity, the idea pales in comparison, but it’s there.

That night, the night you finally came back, you asked him to think on it. And he has, obsessively, his thoughts turning and churning like a water wheel in a flash flood. His dreams have been full of thirst, of a body so powerful and so altered that it almost seems beyond his control. He wonders if it will hurt, and how badly, if the longer he lives, the more of his human life he’ll forget. Will he lose his mother’s face? His father’s voice? Joe’s smile? Tunstall’s kindnesses?

But — he comes back to this, every time — he’ll have you. The two of you will have each other. Whatever he may lose, whatever he has to sacrifice, it will be worth it.

He’s thought about it, he has. And he knows what he wants. This life, his first life, has been nothing but one trial after another, after another, an endless march through the vale of tears, and none of it was by choice. And, really, the more he considers it, this really isn’t a choice, either.

He will never, never let anything separate the two of you again, certainly not something as prosaic as six feet and a coverlet of dirt.

Your fingers are combing through his hair as he lays with his head pillowed on your chest, body curled to fit against yours. It took him a little while to become used to you as you really are, when you dropped the facade that you were still living. You don’t eat regular food anymore, of course, although sometimes you take a sip of his coffee (it’s hot enough that you can feel it, you say, and bitter enough that you can taste a hint of it on your tongue).

You don’t bother to pump your lungs like a bellows, forcing your chest to rise and fall; sometimes, in fact, your entire body is so still that he feels as though there’s a statue sitting at the kitchen table, or nestled in his arms in bed as you are now. And the only sound of breathing echoing in the room now is his, which means that the silence is only broken up by an occasional sigh, whether it’s the wind or his own murmur.

So when you speak, he can’t help but jump, his body jerking against yours like a wave splashing up against the rocks. Your fingers go still, nestled in his hair.

Despite his hammering heart, Billy smiles when you giggle. “Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No,” he says. He props himself up on an elbow to look into your face. “I was just…thinkin’, I guess.”

You smile up at him, reaching up a cool hand to lay your palm against his cheek. “I know,” you say. “That’s what I was trying to ask you. I just wanted to know what was on your mind. I could practically hear the gears turning in your head.”

Billy snorts softly. He lays down next to you, putting his hand against yours to keep it against his face. He’s always run warm, and your porcelain touch feels exquisite, soothing as a cool sip of water on a hot day.

“Was there smoke comin’ out of my ears?”

You giggle again. He decided a long time ago that your laugh was just about his favorite sound in the world, but now, after being so sure he would never hear it again, he thinks there’s no way heaven itself could have sweeter music.

“Not quite,” you say, and you resume the soothing stroking motion through his curls. “What were you thinking about?”

“You,” he says. His tone indicates this should be obvious. What else would be be thinking about, ever? “Us. Forever.”

You don’t say anything for what feels like a very long time. He wonders if it seems as long to you, or if even little increments of time don’t mean the same thing to you as they do to him. Years, he can understand. Decades, even. But how does a minute feel? Does it stretch until it’s gossamer-thin, like a spoke of a spiderweb? Or does it condense, until it’s smaller than a grain of sand, so that a countless multitude can be clutched in the palm of a hand?

“Billy, I need you to be sure,” you say finally. “I would never want to deprive you of anything, even if it means—”

“Don’t,” he says. “Don’t even speak it. I’m not goin’ anywhere, whether you change me or not.” He sits up, the bedclothes pooling around his waist, and you do the same, hugging your own side of the blanket to your chest.

You smile at him, though it’s more like a weeping willow than anything else, pulled down and giving an air of melancholy. “I love you too much to want anything less than a beautiful life for you,” you say. “I hope it includes me, but—”

“Includes you?”

A part of him knows his mother would be horrified that he keeps interrupting a lady, but he can’t help himself.

“Includes you?” he repeats. “Of course it includes you. You can’t deprive me of anything, because you’re everything to me.” He offers you a have smile, one weighed down at a corner by chagrin. “If you don’t know that, I’ve been doin’ something wrong.”

Your cool fingers fold around his. “I know,” you say. “You’re everything to me, too. And there’s nothing I want more than to be with you through each century to come.”

Billy’s heart trips in his chest, and he wonders if you can hear it. “So…is that a yes?”

There is another moment of silence that stretches between the two of you like a bubble threatening to burst, and then you’re both laughing — nervous, thin laughter at first, which blooms into full belly-laughs. You lean forward and bury your face against his shoulder, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his lap.

It’s moments like this where it’s so easy to forget everything. Not just losing you, or learning the truth of who you are, but the world itself. It all falls away, softening, blurring, until it’s just a matter of perspective to convince himself that the two of you are the only two people who exist, who matter. Billy buries his face against your hair, still grinning.

“It sounds like you just proposed to me,” you say, another giggle erupting from your chest.

Your words make him chuckle all over again, because that’s exactly what he was thinking, too, exactly why he’s laughing so hard. It’s only funny because asking you to be his wife — which, by the way, is definitely something he’s considered — seems like a molehill compared to a mountain, when held up next to the idea of altering his very state of being.

Billy sets you back by the shoulders, framing your face between his hands. “Darlin’,” he says, bringing on a fresh shower of giggles. “Will you do me the honor of becomin’ my…?”

He pauses, and whispers, “Is maker a good word?”

“Yes,” you whisper back.

He clears his throat. “Will you do me the honor — stop laughin’ — of becomin’ my maker?”

In the beat of silence between his question and your answer, Billy can feel the mirth melting away, like morning frost on the grass. It was funny, at first, but it really isn’t anymore.

You touch his cheek. “Of course I will,” you say. “If that’s what you want.”

He presses his lips against yours, feeling the sensation of a snowflake alighting on his skin. “It’s the only thing I want,” he says.

You wait until midnight, when the darkness of the night is deep, the air still and soft, and the stars are veiled by silvery-white cloud, so that their distant eyes are covered and it truly is just you and Billy. You sit up in bed, and Billy leans back into your arms, his head nestling on your shoulder. He feels the points of your teeth press against his skin, pausing for a moment more before they break the fragile barrier.

There is a moment of pain, of panic fueled by instinct — prey, realizing a moment too late, that he has been caught — and then his vision starts to blur. His heartbeat thunders in his ears, too loud, too fast, before it reaches such a fever pitch that his chest aches. And then, as darkness encroaches, it begins to slow. Thudthudthud becomes thus-thud-thud, and then thud — thud — thud.

Thud…

He feels you pull away, soothing your tongue over the wound like a mother cat.

Thud…

Your hand cups his jaw, pinching gently at the corners of his mouth to part his lips.

…thud…

He catches the scent of rust, wafting close to his nose.

There is silence for a moment, stretching, growing so heavy that he can feel it like a creature crouching on his ribs.

…thud…

Something presses against his mouth, the rusty smell growing stronger. You pinch at the corners of his mouth again, and without thinking, his tongue comes out and encounters resistance, meeting something solid and cold.

Something — damp and heavy, like the air after a storm. The rust is on his tongue now, coating his lips. His throat works, though he finds it hard to swallow. You coax his head back, and something starts to drip down.

Silence.

…thud…

It feels as though his mind has retreated to a distant corner, curling up on itself, watching from very far away. His mind waits for another thud, but there isn’t one. It waits and waits, but now there is just quiet. Stillness.

This little spark of thought drifts for a while, like a dandelion seed buffeted around on the breeze. Enough of him is left to be aware of you cradling him in your arms, and it’s all he needs to feel safe.

He doesn’t know how long it is before the spark of himself starts to grow brighter, illuminating more around it. He is aware, first, of how still he is, as if he’s bound hand and foot. But when he directs an idea down to his fingers, they move when instructed — if anything, the response is quicker, more fluid, than it was before.

(Which is saying something for the man who is — or was — the fastest draw in the West.)

And then sound begins to return to him, slowly at first, a trickle, and then he realizes he can hear a familiar rustling noise, but it’s too clear for it to be what he thinks it is. It reminds him of a deer stepping gently, carefully, through foliage, but — can he hear all the way to the woods?

Scents hit him next. He really had no idea that everything had its own unique smell. The linen of the sheets is different from the cotton of his shirt, from the flannel of your nightgown, and it’s a world away from the oak of your bed frame and the pine that makes up your cabin. He can smell the ashes of the fire in the stove, and the breeze drifting in through the window carries a veritable feast of aroma.

Grass, trees, the air itself, and most deliciously, a feverish, twitching scent that comes even more strongly when he hears that rustling noise again.

“Billy?”

Your voice is soft, but at the same time the noise is such that it seems to fill his head for a moment. Maybe recalling your own first moments, you wait for a few moments. The sound settles.

You say, “Billy, open your eyes.”

His eyelashes flutter, part. The sun hasn’t risen yet, but it doesn’t matter. The moonlight alone is so bright that he has to squint.

You help him sit up, and he looks at you. His lips part to expel a nonexistent breath at the sight of you. His eyesight, like his other senses, is so much more acute now; you look like an angel, luminous in a fall of silver light spilling through the window.

His thoughts feel scrambled, twisted and flipped around, like someone took his head and shook it. Even his own name, or the events of just hours before, feel remote and strange, but as his eyes latch onto yours, the most important thing he knows comes back to him.

“You’re mine?” he says, and reaches out to touch your cheek.

You smile at him. “I’m yours,” you agree. “And you’re mine.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment or two, and Billy thinks he would be happy sitting here just like this. And then the breeze shifts again, bringing that hot, red scent close to him again.

Fire leaps up in his throat, and it must show in his face, because you smile gently again. “Come with me,” you say, getting to your feet and holding out your hand. “I’ll show you how to hunt.”

His body responds to his desire to get up so fluidly that it feels like he blinks and he’s on his feet. Billy puts his hand in yours, and you lead him outside.

The world is bright and shining, as if you’ve emerged into the belly of a star. Scents, sounds and sensations wash over him in a wave, and he tightens his grip on your hand as though he’s afraid he’ll be swept away. He looks over at you, and you smile.

“Are you ready?” you ask.

For the hunt, he wonders? Or to begin the rest of eternity with you?

Either way, the answer is still the same.

Billy smiles back at you. “Yes.”

#billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #william h bonney fanfiction #tom blyth

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thewriters-world · 6 months ago

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Omg yes!! I saw a poll on what would be a better Hollywood movie rosquez or brocedes

And I was like hands down brocedes, because that's Monaco & Ibiza, a neat little story of growing up, growing apart, giving up on shared dreams. All the glitz and glamour. The way Nico keeps saying nice things and Lewis keeping his silence. A bit of modicum.

Rosquez however could never be Hollywood, they are unhinged, they are gritty, down & dirty, blunt fingernails scrambling to hold on in dark alleyways, it's being on top of the world and seeing your end approaching you wrapped up in smooth golden muscle and a mouth that never ends, it's touching legends, getting on that pedestal and then being isolated on there by the very hands that welcomed you in, it's European art film that is full of shadows and long silences, things never said and hands reaching out too late, it's his voice whispering everytime you fall, it's seeing him in every rider, knowing he would be crazier, faster, fiercer.

Brocedes could have survived if they were less ambitious/less greedy/less driven than they were, Rosquez never had an option because the things that drew them together are the things that they despise about each other.

OP YOUR VISION!

You've described rosquez so perfectly. They're like ruined somehow. Like Marc has his claws in Valentino and Valentino has his claws in Marc and yh they've let go but their bodies, brains HEARTS are still bloody and bruised. Lewis and Nico are healing but will Marc and Valentino ever heal? Idk Valentino says it'll take him 30 years to get over this and Marc says reconciliation is not upto him. So will they be tainted with marks of each other for 30 years? Does everything become more sullied when you remember that Marc had hung posters of Valentino on his bedroom wall and was buying replica bikes until 2015? Is it more cruel that Valentino knew all of this and not only did he do what he did to Marc when he was 22, he denied Marc a concrete part of his personality by saying he doesn't belive Marc had those posters (it's been documented you senile old man!). He basically said I don't know you, I never knew you. Is this all way more horrid when you consider that Marc thought getting into motogp with his idol would mean that Valentino actually KNEW him and they could be friends and then Valentino throws it right back into his face 'I want to see those posters' (I've never known you, I've never looked at those pictures of young you with my motorbikes, I've never paid attention, whilst you devoted your whole life to my life, your life was simply a speck in the grand scheme of events that is my life). Obviously its not true, it's a way to hurt Marc (we all know Valentino actually LIKED marc). But doesn't that make it all the more cruel, you treated someone you actually had affection for like this. Also is it more hurtful when you remember that Valentino told Marc ill protect you from these people if they're mean to you just let me know (not verbatim) but you're the meanie Valentino so now who does Marc go to. The people you turned against him?

Brocedes is way more tame bcs there was no idolisation, sure there was friendship, affection and childlike hope, but never once did Nico and Lewis decide that they didn't have what they had. Nico doesn't denounce the time they sat in hotel rooms and ate frosties, Lewis doesn't hide the fact that karting with Nico provided him joy as a child. Lewis can say Nico isn't his friend, but he hasn't ever said 'I've never known Nico' even when Nico acts a fool whilst commentating on races just to get his attention Lewis wouldn't be so cruel to deny ever having a relationship with Nico. Nico and Lewis are connected in a more concrete and wholesome way (Lewis gives Nico's daughters gifts). Marc and Valentino are connected in a more brutal way (they still have the bruises, the bleeding wounds of whatever they had with one another, friendship, affection companionship idk). That's the only similarity, they are still connected, their legacies are interspersed with one another. Something about how Lewis was there for nicos first and last podium. Something about how everywhere Marc goes, he is haunted by how Valentino has painted him to other people. Even in the one similarity between brocedes and rosquez you can see the abject dirtiness of rosqiez and the wholesomeness of brocedes.

#motogp rpf #valentino rossi #marc marquez #rosquez #lewis hamilton #nico rosberg #brocedes

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baravaggio · 2 months ago

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the jenny holzer tattoo really puts the cherry on top of the menial labor experience

#it’s like that series where her truisms were juxtaposed with ads for like fast food chains and stuff #attention all shoppers: in a dream you saw a way to survive and you were full of joy. sale on soup until the 21st!

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ech0ech0ech0 · 11 months ago

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IN A DREAM YOU SAW A WAY TO SURVIVE AND YOU WERE FULL OF JOY

Jenny Holzer, Truisms // Bears In Trees, Evergreen // I Hope You Heal, illustrated by @Redgoldsparks, text by @prettypositivity, @i-don’t-believe-in-perfect, & @lilbutch // Juno Roche, Gender Explorers // art by @inkipri // Clementine von Radics, In a Dream You Saw a Way to Survive (The Last Poem)

#web weaving #onlyech0es #jenny holzer #truisms #bears in trees #maia kobabe #i hope you heal #gender explorers #trans #transgender #clementine von radics #poetry #parallels #hope #hopepunk #healing #if i could tell my younger self anything about this life #we do so much more than just survive it

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morning-star-joy · 1 year ago

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would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Established Relationship, ASHWAH Universe

Summary: You settle into your relationship with Joel, but struggle with the anxiety of possibly losing him one day.

Warnings: Themes of Anxiety and Grief, Description of a Panic Attack, Angst from PTSD/Loss. Hurt/Comfort. Talking about emotions/fears. Very brief mention of sex. Some things can be read as foreshadowing for Part 2 (it's not canon in ASHWAH universe, but can be interpreted that way)

Wordcount: 3.6k

A/N: Been struggling with writing lately, so I ended up going back to my roots and writing some more for ASHWAH. This was a little thought experiment on how Reader would adjust to a relationship and reveal some of her anxiety around it, along with a bit of Joel's. I may end up writing a companion piece of Joel's anxieties from his POV.

When you knew you were in love with Joel Miller, the three words falling softly from his lips and pulling them from your own in a confession you hadn’t consciously realized you felt until that moment, you wondered how you hadn’t known before.

There was some part of you, something resting deep in your soul, that knew you loved him all along. There were a few times where you think you realized it—after Thanksgiving on that rainy street, during the holiday party when you opened the gift hand carved by him and caught his gaze from across the room—but another part of you, the girl who was still so unsure and afraid of anything resembling that kind of love, kept you from fully acknowledging it.

Still, there had been no ounce of hesitation when you repeated his affection back to him with your own that first time when lying in bed, and that whole morning where you laid in each other’s arms and dreamed up another life together was a memory that quickly became one of your most cherished moments.

You didn’t profess your love for each other at every waking moment. Most of the time, you didn’t say it at all, instead letting it speak for itself in the way you moved around each other, the way you touched each other, casual as much as intimate, with such a comfortable ease that said everything you ever needed to know.

Those moments where you did repeat the three words to each other were still some of your favorites, though. They came so naturally, murmured against each other’s lips in the heat of a passionate embrace, Joel’s rough voice mumbling it against your ear after he stole a kiss from you while out shopping in Jackson’s markets—one of his favorite activities, for some reason, though you couldn’t quite understand the joy he tried to conceal for those painfully domestic moments in your lives—or your whisper of it as you kissed his cheek before he left for an early morning patrol.

“Come back to me safe,” you’d sometimes add on those mornings, the quiet plea pulling Joel right back to you from where he had moved towards the front door, dropping his backpack to be forgotten momentarily on the ground before he pulled you into his arms for a deep kiss full of all the emotions you both had fought so hard to accept and nurture for each other.

“Oh, mi luna,” Joel would whisper against your lips as he kissed them again and again, unable to resist giving you one more peck even as you pushed him gently away so he wouldn’t keep Tommy waiting at Jackson’s gates. “Always.”

Those were the days where you felt the most anxious. Even though you knew Joel’s near unrivaled skill in combat and survival, having seen it firsthand more than once, you couldn’t help the doubts and fears that crept into the back of your mind if he was just the slightest bit late.

Most the time you managed to contain your pacing to the house you now shared with him, wearing a hole in the floorboards in front of the front door until it opened, and you’d spin around, feeling all the anxiety flood from your body as you saw his tired face from a long day of hard work, relaxing in the same moment he did when you saw each other.

But if Joel was just the slightest bit late, you’d be out the door, walking down the streets until you were pacing in front of the gates, waiting with increasing panicked breaths until the gates were open. Your entire body would tense as you hoped you wouldn’t see one of the Miller brothers walking in alone, then relaxing when you saw them both ride in on their horses each time.

“Hey,” Joel said quietly as he brought his stallion to a stop, quickly demounting it to move towards you when he saw the look on your face that first time you were waiting at the gates. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Nothing,” you sighed, shaking your head to try and rid him of his own worry, something you failed in and felt guilty for as he cupped your face in his gloved hands.

Tommy would pat you gently on the shoulder before taking his and Joel’s horses back to the stables those days, letting Joel wrap his arm around your shoulder to take you back home.

The very first time you had waited for them like that, your best friend had teased you about it, saying something along the lines of you never having waited like that for just him.

But when he got a closer look at your face, any jokes quickly stopped, understanding exactly what drove your fear even as you tried to ignore the cause, as much as it lingered subconsciously in the back of your mind.

A suicide mission you had begged her not to go on. Days going by with no word from them. Pacing at the entrance to the camp when you caught wind of a radio call that they were returning. Seeing Eugene walk in without her. Without her. Without her.

Some of those nights, you’d wake up struggling to breathe from the nightmares that plagued you, trying to quiet your whimpering not to wake Joel as you curled in on yourself on your side of the bed.

But every time, it was like something woke him up, some deeper part of him knowing that you needed him in those moments, even if you still wouldn’t admit it.

You’d be tangled in the sheets, hand pressed firmly to your chest as you tried to calm your racing heart, only able to relax when you felt the familiarity of Joel’s strong arms snake around you gently and pull you back into his broad chest.

“Don’t let go,” your voice would rasp out into the darkness of your shared bedroom, grabbing his hands where they held you tighter, breathing easier when you felt his lips press to your shoulder. “Please, don’t let go.”

“I’m not letting go,” Joel would always murmur back, voice raspy with sleep, but completely in the moment with you, here to keep you grounded in a way so effortless compared to your struggles to do so by yourself. “I’m with you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Tommy was right with his comments about you waiting for Joel on those long patrol days, even if it was just teasing. Even though the younger Miller brother was your closest friend, you had never felt this anxious over his patrols, or anybody’s—not even Joel’s, not until your love had been confessed out loud to each other.

There was something so painfully vulnerable about what you had with Joel, opening up to him slowly over time until every part of your soul was bare to him, intertwining with him completely until you couldn’t bear the thought of anything ripping him away. Not like how it had happened to you once before.

You had hardly been able to pull yourself back together that time, and you didn’t think you could ever manage to do it again if you lost him too.

But on those nights after long patrols, the ones where your body didn’t succumb to its anxiety, you found yourself having some of your favorite conversations with Joel. Most of the time, you were both too tired to have sex—except for maybe a self-indulgent quickie or mutually getting yourselves off—but instead you both laid comfortably in each other’s arms, heads resting on the same pillow as you talked.

One such night, you hardly even realized as a question you began to mull over slipped past your lips until you heard yourself say, “Were you ever in love before?”

As soon as the last few words fell from your mouth, you froze, feeling Joel’s body stiffen from where his arms were wrapped around you, both of you realizing what you had just said aloud at exactly the same moment.

You coughed, lifting your free hand to cover your mouth, an attempt to try and cover up how horrified you were at the random, blunt question you had asked.

“I—fuck, sorry,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks flush as you worried you were prying too much. Even as you had started to open up to each other in as many ways as you could discover, this hadn’t been a topic you had broached yet. “That was fucking weird. I didn’t mean—”

“Yes.”

The simple, one word confirmation brought your face back up, blinking in surprise at Joel

His face wasn’t entirely closed off, but it was pensive; strong brows furrowed to show he was deep in thought, pronouncing the wrinkles on his forehead. You felt the sudden, inexplicable urge to reach up and smooth them out with your fingers, to ease the tension your own words had caused in him.

“Or, I thought I was,” he added in a mumble, eyes focusing in on the scar on your cheek, reaching a hand up to stroke his thumb over it in his usual habit he fell into whenever he wanted to remind himself that you were with him. “It…”

Joel glanced back towards your eyes then, his eyes flickering over your face.

“It felt like it at the time, at least,” he finally said, thumb stroking your scar again.

But his grip around you now was still stiff, still awkward, so you shifted closer to him, pressing your lips to the beard he had grown as much as he could on his jaw, still charmingly patchy in places, before pulling back to look into his eyes, showing you were nothing but open ears for whatever he had to say.

“Oh?” you asked lightly, arching your brows before starting to wiggle them suggestively. “Was there a Mrs. Miller in the picture at some point, then?”

Joel huffed out a quiet laugh at your words, his brow smoothing out as he glanced over your face, and you felt that same flutter of emotion, that same surge of love you only ever had for him, unable to help but smile when his arm around your waist loosened from a firm, awkward grip to something more natural again.

“There was,” he confirmed quietly, and your eyes widened briefly in surprise at the gentle answer before you softened again once you saw the conflict in Joel’s eyes. “Didn’t last long, though.”

Your head tilted, watching as unnamed emotions surged in Joel’s gaze before settling into something somber, something melancholic.

“What happened?” you asked, keeping your voice just as quiet as his, afraid you would shatter the vulnerability of the moment and have to deal with Joel’s walls rebuilding. It didn’t happen that often anymore, but old habits were hard to shake at the worst times.

But as Joel answered your question, you suddenly realized that he had been keeping those walls down just around you, for you, for a while now, “We were young. Far too young. But she was pregnant, and…”

You watched Joel struggle for the words as he shifted his gaze from your scar to your eyes, then back again, as if he was looking at options for what to say, turning them over in his mind before he settled on, “Getting married seemed like the right thing to do. I wasn’t going to be a deadbeat like my own old man.”

Slowly, you began to realize that you were addicted to this side of him—the Joel that opened up to you, telling you things that he may have not said aloud to anybody in years, if at all.

“I quickly learned it wasn’t what she wanted,” Joel huffed out quietly, his face pinching into a pained expression for a moment before it quickly cleared, but that brow was still furrowed, still enhancing every line of age and weariness on his face that you had grown to be so fond of. “She wasn’t ready for marriage, or kids. When she wanted to leave, I didn’t stop her.”

Subconsciously, your free hand lifted to smooth your fingers across the deep furrow in his brow, thumb stroking the wrinkles there.

When the furrow of his brow finally smoothed out, and Joel glanced back at you with a small, hesitant smile, his thumb stroking along your hip, you melted back into him with relief that he wasn’t regretting letting you in on this little-known fact of his long, tumultuous life.

You wanted to know every crack and chip in Joel’s carefully constructed armor, to feel them underneath your fingers as you ran them over the hidden crevices of his life, knowing the parts of his soul so surely until you couldn’t distinguish them from your own.

“What about you?”

You froze up, blinking in surprise as Joel’s returned question sent nerves ricocheting through you, and you quickly looked away.

“Uh,” you hesitated, clearing your throat as you forced yourself to remove yourself from the present and think back through your life.

When Joel’s thumb stroked along your hip again, his hand squeezing you gently, in a gesture to reassure you that saying nothing was always okay, you found yourself saying, “No.”

“You haven't?” Joel murmured, and you laughed gently at the surprise in his voice at your confession.

“No, not really,” you finally whispered, still not meeting Joel’s gaze as you thought back through your childhood, your time in Seattle up to the whirlwind days with the Fireflies, and then to Jackson. “I mean…maybe I…”

You sighed, forcing yourself to pull your gaze up and finally meet Joel’s eyes.

And when you saw that they were nothing but open and understanding and devastatingly warm, a soft breath was pulled from your lungs, as if just the sight of him looking at you in such a way made you fall even more in love with him.

“So there was someone?” Joel finally asked gently, picking up on what you had left unsaid, his eyes moving over your face, lingering on the scar on your cheek before meeting your gaze again.

You shrugged, suddenly feeling frustratingly shy at the topic of a matter that was so utterly foreign to you, even as you were the one who had brought it up.

Combat? You could do combat, having learned how to fight even before the world went to shit at your father’s urging.

Sex? Oh, you could do sex. It was a familiar coping mechanism, a way to escape the cruel, harsh truths of existence, if only for a little bit.

But feelings?

Emotions?

Love?

Yes, you loved Joel, and you were comfortable telling him now, on more than one occasion. But you had never really talked about love as a whole this much, with anybody, and it frustrated you how out of your depth you still were in it.

But the way that Joel was looking at you now, like he knew what you didn’t, like he knew you—and you knew without a doubt that he did, better than you knew yourself even…it was comforting.

“Maybe,” you finally relinquished, shrugging a shoulder as you gazed up at his face. “I had a…friend.”

Another sigh pulled from your lips as you gently bit your bottom lip, shaking your head again, more to yourself as you thought back to your youth.

“In Seattle,” you elaborated, struggling to get yourself to relive those feelings, let alone admit them. “It was just a stupid crush. Nothing ever came from it.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Joel broke it by almost teasing in a gentle way, “There’s a but in there somewhere.”

You laughed, feeling a sense of relief at his rare show of humor that you cherished every glimpse of, unable to suppress the warmth it made you feel whenever you heard it.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, tilting your head back to glance over his face before looking away. “I guess…sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had stayed. Maybe…”

Trailing off again, you struggled to find the words, until Joel seemingly pulled them right from the deep subconscious part of your mind, or perhaps the buried longing in your heart, “Maybe you could have.”

Your face turned back to him, surprised eyes meeting those of complete understanding, and you softened.

“Yeah,” you murmured, giving a small nod as you watched him watch you.

“I had somebody like that,” he admitted, a frown pulling onto his face as you watched his eyes shift into an even more somber look than when he had been talking about his wife. In fact, it was almost…

“Back in the Boston QZ,” Joel continued, eyes darting away, and your lips parted in a silent breath that was pulled from you as you realized, oh.

Mournful.

His look was one of grief.

Your thumb stroked along his cheekbone, and Joel answered by stroking his own thumb along your hip, his grip tightening on you a fraction before he began to speak about this love lost, “We worked together for years. She was a…companion, I guess. A partner.”

The words sent some kind of nostalgic feeling through you, a memory dangling in the back of your subconscious.

I made a promise to someone.

Joel’s dark expression from then appeared in your mind, followed by your own words that had answered his quiet admission, and then his almost pained confirmation.

Must’ve been someone important, to do that for them.

Yeah.

When you remembered it, you found yourself saying softly, “She’s the one who wanted you to take Ellie, wasn’t she?”

Joel nodded slowly, not seeming surprised in the slightest that you had remembered your discussion in the nursery from so long ago.

“Yeah, Tess,” he said quietly, his voice almost choking on the name, and he cleared his throat as he turned his gaze away from you. “She was…”

You watched as Joel turned onto his back, and you gazed at his side profile, trying to find a pattern in the way his hair curled above his neck as you heard him mutter in a voice that was rough, nearly strangled with grief, “Fuck, she was better than me. She deserved so much more, and I couldn’t give it to her. I…”

Tears began to blur your vision as you heard him whisper almost more to himself than you, “I wasn’t enough.”

He sucked in a breath then, and your heart broke at the way you could hear it shake, your hands reaching out to hold him close, burying your face into his chest as his arms wrapped around you by reflex when he felt your embrace.

“Think that’s what I’m most afraid of, darlin’,” he whispered, and you squeezed your eyes shut at the weight of the somber revelation, feeling a few stray tears fall down your cheeks. “Not being enough. Never being enough.”

For a moment, you thought he wasn’t going to say anything else as silence filled your room, but when he mumbled again, you pulled yourself up to look at the man who you knew was the love of your life—maybe every life you ever had, and would have.

“What are you afraid of?”

You took another deep breath, wishing that you didn’t have to answer. Wishing that you could just fade into him, without ever having to leave this moment.

But after all this time, Joel deserved an answer. You knew he did.

And so you steeled yourself, treating it as casually as talking about the weather, even as your voice shook as you whispered one simple word.

“Loss.”

Joel froze, his body stiffening underneath where your chest rested against his. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the world even as you continued, “I’ve lost so much, I can’t—I can’t…”

He didn’t say anything then, even as his body relaxed again, because he knew.

You knew, you both knew, that loss was everywhere. You had both lost so much already.

No, not just so much, but everything. You had both fucking lost everything.

There were no promises you could make, no vows that would erase the ever-haunting possibility that somebody might not come home at the end of the day.

In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but marvel at what a pair you were.

Here you were, afraid of losing a peace that could never really be yours to lose in the first place.

And Joel, afraid that he wasn’t enough to…

To what, exactly?

Not enough to protect those he vowed to himself to keep alive?

Not enough to make those he cared about happy?

Not enough for you to give up on the false hope of ever finding peace?

“Is it enough?” the three words falling from Joel’s lips made your eyes reopen, gazing down at the tired lines of his face, pinched in a way that told you he was holding back a wave of emotions, your throat choking up at the sight of your strong, steadfast love so shattered by his own grief. “If…”

You exhaled heavily, nodding before you could even find the words.

Because despite the fears that held you captive awake or asleep, you knew Joel. You knew your love for him, his love for you, and even if there was a day to come where one of you would be left without it…

“It’s enough,” you whispered, tears falling down your face to mix with his as you leaned down to press a kiss to his lips, one that assured him of what you both needed to know. For however long you had him, however long you could love him…

It was enough.

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