#I'm sure someone else has already done this

[postmoe]

So, I'm getting around to doing Amphoreus and... we're at the bath house... and there is a special bath house for heroes.... can you imagine being taken in there without anyone else knowing just to be banged senselessly?

With Mydei and Phainon x Reader

girl we on the same wave length. I just added a bit to something i had going but didn't like it enough for the story i wanted lol.

non-con, helplessness, a bit of choking, bathhouse, ambrosia, master/servant dynamicish

Translations off google so (I went the Ancient Greek route)... Dominus - Master. He philtatē - dearest love. (feminine).

.

Amphoreus is full of many heroes, and though they are all strong and worthy of their titles, there are some that put true unease in others.

Like Mydei. Even with Phainon right next to him, trying to lighten the mood in the room, people still fear his sharp looks and dominating muscles. Everyone has seen what these two heroes can do, and no one wants to be on the wrong side of them.

Not to mention how protective they are of each other. Back and forth arguments seem like nothing when their anger is truly displayed, especially at people who speak ill of their partner.

And then there's you, their precious, priceless darling. A warning isn't good enough if you were to be picked on, broken bones, lost jobs, people are still debating whether or not the person who moved lands is dead or still alive.

So, when you're dragged from your station, or told to meet them somewhere, everyone drops everything to make sure you comply. Which is why, even if people did see you be hauled into the heroes bathhouse, you know calling for help would do nothing good.

That's why you stand there, sweat soaking through your white road, nipples poking into wet, sheer fabric, face stoic and hands holding a large jug of wine like it were any other client. They seem entertained enough by each other, hopefully today they will just leave you alone.

However, as Mydei pulls away from the heated kiss, grinning drunkenly your way and leaning his head against the edge of the in ground bath, you know there is no such luck. "He philtatē, come drink ambrosia with us," he practically moans, Phainon grinding his naked body in his lap, kissing and lapping up the sweat of his lovers neck.

You make a point to keep your eyes facing forward, not wanting to give them the thought that you're indulging in their actions, "No, thank you, dominus. I am working right now." That's not to say you would if you weren't on shift, but, it's as good an excuse as any other.

Phainon finally frees his mouth from the other's body, sculling the rest of his drink, red ambrosia trickling over his lips, down the cleft of his neck, and over the pecs of his chest before mixing with the bath water and disappearing. His eyes are hooded, cheeks dusted red with the effects of alcohol and lust, "Why the sudden harsh treatment, He philtatē, you were never this reserved when we first met."

With a bow of your head, avoiding his gaze, you say, "Kindess is part of the job. I welcomed you in, my job is done."

"Boo~" Phainon whines, rolling off of Mydei and sitting next to him in the water. "You're not like this after work or with your colleagues," he mutters, now holding out his empty cup, "Refill, please!"

You're not even going to ask how he knows what you're like when they're not around, already having the sneaking suspicion they've been following you and paying someone to tail you when they're gone. You crouch down to aim the jug into the goblet, only for Mydei to snatch the wine from your hands which makes you cry out a, "Hey!"

Within moments, you're being dragged into the water by a laughing Phainon. You thrash and splash the water as you're manhandled, thick fingers pulling your clinging robe over your head, leaving you in thin panties and the gold chains around your torso to help support your breasts. You're held tightly against his chest, coddled like a sweet pet until you stop moving so violently. Once you calm down enough, Mydei hands a cup to Phainon, who then promptly presses the rim to your tightly sealed lips, "Ambrosia~ Ambrosia for He philtatē~"

His other hand is roughly grabbing your jaw, the ache forcing your mouth to part enough for the liquid to slip through. You grunt, swallowing the sweet drink, a lot of it falling down your front, until the cup is empty. His hand is swaying in front of your face, the motion annoying you so you backhand the goblet, it flying and dunking in the water. He's so out of it that it takes him a minute to realise what you've done, the man laughing and messily petting your head in a playful manner.

Mydei exhales, sinking further into the bath to relax his muscles, "The whole trip he wouldn't shut up about you. 'When can we see (Y/n) again?' 'How much longer until we leave for (Y/n)?' 'Do you think if I send a letter, it'll reach her before we get back?' Couldn't even focus on fighting."

Phainon cheekily pinches your cheek, directing your attention back to him, "Funny he says that. Just whose name do you think he was calling every night we fucked?" You grab at his wrists once they start to slip to your cunt, fingers brushing your clit while your strength did nothing to hold him back. He didn't even acknowledge it, choosing instead to ask, "We have those new heroes, too. Should we introduce them to our private hole?" A wince escapes you as he slips a finger in, your pussy clenching from the intrusion. He swirls his digit around before adding another, "And what of Anaxa? Where is he?"

"Anaxa is still busy, he won't be back for another month," Mydei steps from the tiled ledge and stands in front of you, his large hands stroking over your shoulders, cupping your breasts in his palms and grazing the nipples with his thumbs. His eyes follow every move with a predatory gaze, "They certainly have proved their worth..."

You zone out as they talk about you like some object. Gritting your teeth, frustrated tears mix with the sweat on your face as you silently cry. What sort of a God or Titan or Deity would allow something such as this to happen to one of their subjects? It just proves how lost your soul really is from everyone else's. Everyone was right, you were abandoned by the titans the moment you were conceived.

Mydei pushes himself against your front, sandwiching you between him and Phainon so he can easily kiss your tears away, "Now look what you've done, you made her cry."

Phainon coos against your hair, his fingers hooking inside you to get a jerking reacting out of you, your hips trapped between the two, "It's okay, He philtatē, we won't share you if you don't want to. It actually makes me happy to see your heart is ours alone."

That's absolutely not true.

"Just be good for us tonight or else we might have to get them to 'help' hold you down," Mydei chuckles drunkenly as if his joke was actually something worth laughing at.

It pissed you off how he could just say something like that and get away with it. You pushed a sturdy hand against his chest, halting him from your boldness. (E/c) eyes look to the door, longing for anyone to enter and stop this madness. Your voice is quiet, moisture inside your mouth gone from the alcohol, bath heat and sexual actions of these men, "One day... One day someone will stop you."

The amused rumble from Phainon's chest made your heart sink. Then, when Mydei's fierce eyes sharped as his grin showed too many teeth to bring an intense foreboding to flood your veins, you shrank back into Phainon as he suddenly seemed to be the lesser of two evils. Mydei scoffed and gripped the base of your neck, your chin tilted up on the curve of his thumb and index as he held you just hard enough to make you wheeze and meet his eyes, "That day won't be a day you're alive."

When he finally let go, the world around you went white and your head couldn't tell which way gravity was holding you. Thankfully, you had your two heroes to keep you safe.

[qqueenofhades]

do you have any advice for those in the very early stages of thesis-writing? currently desperately clinging to the mantra of "shitty first drafts," et al

Unfortunately, there is no place where you will more whole-assedly have to embrace the "shitty first draft" mantra than in academic writing, especially in thesis writing, especially if this is your first-ish crack at an advanced and major piece of original research. I'm not sure if this is for an undergraduate senior thesis, a MA-level thesis, or (my true and heartfelt sympathies) a PhD dissertation, but the basic principles of it will remain the same. So there is that, at least. This means that yes, you will write something, you may even feel slightly proud of it, and then you will hand it into your supervisor and they will more or less kindly dismantle it. You have to train yourself to have a thick skin about this and not take it as a personal insult, and if your supervisor is remotely good at their job (not all of them are, alas) they will know how to be tactful about it and not make it feel like a direct and extensive commentary on your private worth as a person. But you will have to swallow it and do what you can, which can include -- if you're the one who has done the research and know that's how you want to present it and/or you are correct about it -- pushing back and having a conversation with them about how you think your original approach does work best. But that will come later. The first step is, yes, to mentally gird yourself to receive critical feedback on something that you have worked hard on, and to understand that no matter how much you grump and grumble and deservedly vent to your friends and so on, implementing the feedback will usually make your piece better and stronger. That is the benefit of working with a trained expert who knows what makes a good piece of research in your particular academic field, and while it doesn't get easier, per se, at least it gets familiar. Be not afraid, etc.

If you're in the writing stage, I assume that you've moved past the topic-selection and general-research stage, but allow me to plump once more the services of your friendly local university library. You can (or at least you can at mine and probably in any decently well-equipped research university) schedule a personal consultation with an expert librarian, who can give you tips on how to find relevant subject databases, create individual research guides (these might already be available on the university library website for classes/general topics), and otherwise level you up to Shockingly Competent Research Superhero. So if you're still looking for a few extra sources, or for someone else who might be reading this and is still in the "how the heck do I find appropriate and extensive scholarly literature for my thesis??" stage, please. Go become a Research Ninja. It's much easier when you have a minion doing half the work for you, but please do appreciate and make use of your university librarian. It's much more effective than haphazard Google Scholar or JSTOR searches hoping to turn up something vaguely relevant (though to be fair, we all do that too), and it's what your tuition dollars are paying for.

Next, please do remind yourself that you are not writing the whole thesis in one go, and to break it down into manageable chunks. It usually does make sense to write the whole thing semi-chronologically (i.e. introduction, lit review, chapter 1, chapter 2/3/4 etc, conclusion), because that allows you to develop your thoughts and make logical connections, and to build on one piece to develop the next. If you're constantly scrambling between chapters and zig-zagging back and forth as things occur to you, it will be harder to focus on any one thought or thread of research, and while you might get more raw output, it will not be as good and will require more correction and revision, so you're not actually hacking yourself into increased productivity. You should also internally structure your chapters in addition to organizing your overall thesis, so it makes sense to draw up a rough outline for section A, section B, section C within the body of a single chapter. This will make you think about why the segues are going in that order and what a reasonably intelligent reader, who nonetheless may not have the specialized knowledge that you are demonstrating for them, needs to move understandably from one section to the next.

Some academics I know like to do an extensive outline, dumping all their material into separate documents for each chapter/paper and kneading and massaging and poking it into a more refined shape, and if that works for you -- great! I'm more of the type that doesn't bother with a ton of secondary outlines or non-writing activity, since that can lead you away from actually writing, but if you need to see the fruit of your research all together in one place before you can start thinking about how it goes together, that is also absolutely the way that some people do it. Either way, to be a successful academic writer, you have to train yourself to approach academic writing in a very different way from fun writing. You do fun writing when you have free time and feel inspired and can glop a lot of words down at once, or at least some words. You do it electively and for distraction and when you want to, not to a set timeline or schedule, and alas, you can't do this for academic writing. You will have to sit your ass down and write even when you do not feel like writing, do not feel Magically Inspired, don't even want to look at the fucking thing, etc. I have had enough practice that I can turn on Academic Writing Brain, sit down, bang something out, sit down the next day and turn on Academic Editing Brain, go over it again, and send it off, but I have been in academia for uh, quite a while. The good news is that you can also automate yourself to be the same way, but the bad news is that it will take practice and genuine time invested in it.

As such, this means developing a writing schedule and sticking to it, and figuring out whether you work best going for several hours without an interruption, or if you set a timer, write for a certain time, then allow yourself to look at the internet/answer texts/fuck around on Tumblr, and then make yourself put down the distraction and go back to work for another set period of time. (I am admittedly horrible at putting my phone away when I should be doing something else, but learn ye from your wizened elders, etc.) You will have to figure out in which physical space you work best, which may not be a public coffee shop where you can likewise get distracted with doing other things/chatting to friends/screwing around on the internet/doomscrolling/peeking at AO3, and to try to be there as often as possible. It might be your carrel in the library, it might be your desk at home, it might be somewhere else on campus, but if you can place yourself in a setting that tells your brain it's time to work and not look at WhatsApp for the 1000th time in a row, that is also beneficial.

Finally, remember that you do not have to produce an absolutely world-beating, stunningly original, totally flawless and perfect piece, even in its final form. Lots of us write very shitty things when we're starting out (and some of us, uh, still write very shitty things as established academics), and you do not have to totally redefine your entire field of study or propose a groundbreaking theory that nobody has heard of or anything like that. A lot of academic work is small-scale and nuanced, filling in spaces on the margins of other things or responding or offering a new perspective on existing work, and it's best to think of it as a conversation between yourself and other scholars. They have said something and now you're saying something back. You don't need to be so brilliant that everyone goes ZOMGZ I HAVE NEVER HEARD OF THAT BEFORE; by its nature that happens very rarely and is usually way out on a limb (extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence, etc); you just need to continue the dialogue with a reasonably well-constructed and internally plausible piece. So if you think of it that way, and understand that a shitty first draft will usually develop into something that is good and valuable but not SHOCKING NEW REVELATION clickbait hype, you will take some of the pressure off yourself and be more able to shut up that perfectionist voice in your head. However, all of us have some degree of imposter syndrome and it never entirely goes away, so you'll have to manage that too. Etc etc as before, it doesn't vanish altogether, but it gets easier.

And last but not least, though I'm sure I don't have to say this: for the love of fuckin' god, do not use ChatGPT. Even the genuinely shittiest paper in the world that you still worked on researching, organizing, and writing with your own brain is better than that. Trust me.

[quintessenceofdust88]

Moodboard game ❤️

(wow, lots of tags for this one, thank youuuu!)

I was tagged by @typicalopposite @30somethingautisticteacher @laundryandtaxesworld and @fairytalegonewronga03 for this one ❤️❤️

Rules: Either: choose one of your published fics (or a WIP if you'd prefer), create a moodboard for it and share it along with a snippet. Or: Create a moodboard for your fave episode of the show, fave character, or a fic someone else has written that you love, and share it with some sentences about why it's a fave! (and tag people!)

So I decided to create a moodboard for my priest!Tommy au (officially titled 'Scusa Se Ti Amo', but that's just for show because we all know it'll be called priest au hahaha). I really like how it turned out!!

And a tiny snippet:

Buck thought the church was cooler than the outside, but all of a sudden he's feeling hot all over again. When the priest looks at him, an inexplicable blush creeps up to his cheeks, and he thanks God that he can blame it on the heat and his heavy uniform (never mind that father Kinard's clothes also look heavy and he's still perfectly composed, but Buck definitely won't think about how he'd look all sweaty).

“Thank you, firefighter…” He says, trailing off and extending a hand, and it takes Buck a second to realize he's supposed to shake it and offer his name (not his phone number. Definitely not his phone number).

“Evan. Buckley. Buck!” He blurts out like a complete idiot, and wonders if it's wrong to wish for a five scale fire so they can rush out of there.

Father Kinard raises an eyebrow at him, a smirk on his curved lips. That's when Buck notices he's still shaking hands with the man, and he lets go clumsily. 

“My, that's a mouthful” Kinard says, and Buck almost blurts out that he has something else that's a mouthful before his eyes clock the white collar around the man's neck. 

As it is, he just snickers awkwardly and mutters a goodbye, his voice high-pitched and strained.

Buck's at the truck before anyone else, mentally preparing himself for being teased all through the shift they just started. 

His only saving grace is that, as much as he made a complete fool of himself in front of father Kinard, it's not a problem. Buck'll never have to see the man again, will he? So it's not like it matters.

Naturally, the priest shows up at the station the next day.

Np tagging (I'm not sure who has done it already so if you have I'm sorry, feel free to ignore it hehe ❤️)

@bidisasterevankinard @mmso-notlikethat @agentpeggycartering @unhingedangstaddict and whoever else wants to join ❤️❤️❤️

[monsterlimbs]

BG3 did incredible at making the bad guys so incredibly sympathetic/empathetic honestly. Coming from someone who is so so so so insanely justice oriented, I feel BAD for all the villains and bad people in the game. I think they deserve better. I already made a post on Orin a second ago so now we're doing all the big bads because she reminded me how funny it is, for me who's so set on justice to be like "free my girl! she's not a good person or innocent I just think she deserves better" lol. So we're doing Gort's post!!!!!!!!!

Gortash was a normal child born to a poor family who couldn't handle it and, FREQUENTLY, told him he was a nasty child for being... a child. For sure he was being neglected, not just in the way of lack of food due to no money, but also socially so. So he turned to creating toys (productive instead of destructive!!!! good boy!) and they were... pissed? Oh, and remember, this little boy for sure had no friends so his only comfort was tinkering with scraps leftover from whatever projects his parents worked on in the shop.

And then, they sold Gortash to a fucking devil for some money (that hardly even did shit for them, imagine how angry he was to return and he saw them living the same life they led when he was a child, after HE was sent to HELL, so THEY could have a BETTER life and they didn't even fucking do that.) and he had to live his childhood in Hell, in constant abuse. How many gods do you think he prayed to, begging for freedom? And in this world, the gods are DEFINITIVELY real and listening, so how many gods do you think ignored him? Ignored an abused, sniffling child in the Hells, who up until this point has done nothing wrong and only wants to be safe, loved, and in a place he gets to tinker with some toys?

Whether you hate the man he became or not, just for a moment think of the child he was. Always told he was too bitchy and whiney for being a normal child, then sold to a devil, sent to Hell, abused to the point I honestly think it's a miracle he survived, ignored by tens of gods.

And then, he still had the strength to GET FREE, and find Bane, who made him even stronger. Made it so that HE'D never be the victim again. Made it so that he could not only never be the victim again, but that he'd thrive. That he'd be on top of the world.

Then he meets Durge, who I honestly believe to be his first friend (he, for sure, had no friends in his parents' home, and everyone in Raphael's House of Hope was either sentenced to do something weird, hated him, or just generally not his pal). And I also believe this to be vice versa as well. Durge has kinda been forced to kill everyone he loves, but Gortash, Gortash he CAN'T kill, because for once, Bhaal sees a man that's important to his own plan, sees a man that he can let Durge befriend because it's better for the plan. So they become friends, and I for sure believe that they were both manipulating each in the beginning but actually became REAL friends eventually (maybe even always manipulating each other, but in a mutual, "I see what you're doing and I raise your mild manipulation to major manipulation" back and forth, almost playful way). And they totally fucked, but I'm trying to be kinda unbiased here, so whether they were more than fuck buddies or not is not important here, but they WERE friends in my opinion. Not even in my opinion, it's fact, "He did miss this" is a legit quote from the narrator after succeeded an insight check. They respected each other, saw each other in ways they saw no other, because no other was so fucked up and evil that he could go "I killed a man yesterday" and be responded to in kind. Anyone else, and their stomach would turn. But they've found their other half in a way, a man of mental strength, self control (...ish), and general respectability. Someone they can both rant to without judgement! Truly, who else would listen to these two men rant about what they've done, WITHOUT setting the guards on them? Also, Durge was formidable and had Gortash's same goals so he liked that. Durge also knew to keep personal things and business separate, so even if he and Gortash had arguments and such outside of The Plan™, they managed to keep it under the table and focus on The Plan when important and Gortash liked that even more.

But this post is supposed to be less about Durge so anyway, then Ketheric's added to the mix and Ketheric doesn't share their ideals so much but when he's being kept busy, he's at least a good work dog in Gortash's eyes. The Plan's all coming together now, and Gortash is busy and stressed no doubt, but he's no one's victim, the world is in his hands, and he has a friend! It's perfect.

And then his friend disappears, and Durge's annoying little sister replaces him. But he knows to keep personal stuff and business stuff separated, so he tolerates her, binds her blades, and has to shoulder a bit more of the plan now (do you really think Orin is willing to be civil at all and talk through details of the plane with Gortash like Durge would? She's doing her part of the plan well and scaring the sheep into Gortash's protection BUT she's not going above and beyond like I think Durge did, so he's left to his own devices to sort through shit.)

And now!!! His buddy's back!!!!!! THANK GOD YOU'RE BACK DURGE I MISSED YOU I mean hello now you can kill your stupid little annoying sister and- why do you have a certain tiefling with you. dear god you're consorting with peasants Durge. you were so strong and cool before what are you DOING buddy. Even funnier if Durge is romantically involved w Karlach and adores her, because I PUT HER IN HELL AND NOW MY PRECIOUS LITTLE FRIEND IS KISSING HER WHEN THEY SHOULD BE KISSING ME I mean when they should be focusing on The Plan™. Even, even, even funnier if Durge is total resist and refuses to make a plan with Gort, because he totally thinks they're going to come to their senses eventually, and instead they just. kill him. At one point, he even says "No. You have to stop her. Do it! Now!", because he still believes Durge is on his side and would totally stop Karlach. After all, why wouldn't they when they "share so much history"?

But also, if they're a resist Durge but still w the plan... he's happy for them. Imo, ACTUALLY happy for them. He's like "oh you left your father? wonderful! now you don't have any master or urges to bind you and we can finally focus on getting that damned netherbrain back in our hands!" but he's cool w embraced durge too. because either way, as long as you have a pact w him, he's safe in his mind w you and he's happy you're taking over the brain with him. And he's totally willing to share his kingdom w you. In fact, he WANTS to rule together as kings, which in Bane's rulebook is the first bad thing ever. He's being a BAD Banite, just because he's kinda lonely and wants someone to rule w in my opinion. But not just anyone, someone Cool™ and probably evil so he can be like "my slaves over there are being so annoying" and then have his buddy respond w sympathy. ....Sympathy for him, not the slaves. Which. Is fucking awful and I'm glad he's not real for that fact. But anyway

If you follow through w the pact, and reach the boat and everything, he lets you hit him once funnily enough. And he responds so childishly, by kicking you back! It's so funny to me

And briefly off topic, but I believe he's so childish because the way he grew up sort of stunted his maturity. Like, he's smart enough and charismatic enough that he can put on a good face for the public eye, but the second alone he's biting his pillow, having massive tantrums when shit goes sideways, having his guards sentenced to death if they stare at him weirdly, essentially doing everything an angry child would when they've been "wronged" in their eyes

Now back to topic, you reach the brain and it immediately fucking kills him. For a man so set on being in control, no longer being anyone's victim, finally being free to do what he wants... it's ironic he dies in this way. And though he's, for sure, a completely fucked up dude, it's a little bit sad to me honestly.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some fantasy traveler inventory details (like what they would carry in their bags), based on two of the recent costumes I did.. love finding random little scraps and items and putting them together lol

[robo-dino-puppies]

you and Mr. Fell don't ever talk to each other-

-you never say what you're really thinking.

[ikiracake]

None of y'all are safe

(Thank you to @whatjanesays for the png)

[thatgirl4815]

Saw someone do this on Twitter for the trailer, so I counted the number of scenes per couple in the OST video:

RaySand: 8

TopMew: 6

BostonNick: 5

(I'm excluding all the cuts of RaySand singing in the car since that's basically continuous and likely won't be included in the show itself.)

[youremyonlyhope]

why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up why won't my brain shut up

[thesimplicityofchance]

I really wanna gather and write about how our perception of robots and how humans intermingle with them has changed so much over the years. But I wanna do it specifically through the scope of movies and shows where we see it and how it slowly delvoped. Because even as late as the 1960s we had shows and movies with people falling for robots or being tricked into loving robots. And the way it is handled and those relationships are viewed is so uniquely interesting to me. I am curious as well if it was these instances that really helped shape people's minds about acceptance of robots as a sentient functioning life more so than a machine meant as a distraction. It's mainly in sci-fi and horror that we see it early on too, which is even more intriguing.

[smalltimidbean]

I can not be the only one wondering what a Maurice clone would look like.

Fake Maurice?? Maurice clone?? Idk what it would be called tbh-

Interesting idea, but I am probably not gonna make a Fake Maurice, I'm afraid!

There is no reason in my canon for him to be cloned, nor would he have been around to get cloned - I also don't want to do a hypothetical, bc I will get attached and want to keep him dfglkjdfsg

Also, arguably speaking, he is already kinda is a clone himself, considering he is just a Peppino palette swap with longer hair kjdfgkj

[majaboogeh]

i've been up for twenty minutes and out of the three april fool's jokes i've seen so far this is the only funny one

[pibsboots]

I've always had chronic fatigue. I remember being twelve, and an adult mentioned how I couldn't possibly know how tired they felt because adulthood brought levels of exhaustion I couldn't imagine. I thought about that for days in fear, because I couldn't remember the last time I didn't feel tired.

Eventually I came to terms with the fact that I was just tired, and I couldn't do as many things as everyone else. People called me lazy, and I knew that wasn't true, but there's only so many times you can say "I'm tired" before people think it's an excuse. I don't blame them. When a teenager does 20 hours of extracurriculars every week and only says "I'm too tired" when you ask them to do the dishes, it's natural to think it's an excuse. At some point, I started to think the same thing.

It didn't matter that I could barely sit up. It was probably all in my head, and if I really wanted to, I could do it.

When I learned the name for it, chronic fatigue, I thought wow, people that have that must be miserable, because I am always tired and I cannot imagine what it would feel like if it were worse.

Spoiler alert, if you've been tired for a decade, it's probably chronic fatigue.

Once I figured that out though, I thought of my energy as the same as everyone else's, just smaller in quantity. And that might be true for some people, but I've figured out recently that it absolutely isn't true for me.

I used to be like wow I have so much energy today I can do this whole list for sure! And then I'd do the dishes and have to lay down for 2 hours. Then I'd think I must gave misjudged that, I didn't have as much energy as I thought.

But the thing is - I did have enough energy for more tasks, I just didn't go about them properly.

With chronic fatigue, your maximum energy is obviously much smaller than the average person's. Doing the dishes for you might use up the same percentage of energy that it takes to do all the daily chores for someone else.

If someone without chronic fatigue was to do all the daily chores, they would take breaks. Because otherwise, they're sprinting a marathon for no reason and it would take way more energy than necessary. We have to do the same.

Put the cups in the dishwasher, take a break. Put the bowls in, take a break. So on and so forth. This may mean taking breaks every 2-5 minutes but afterwards, you get to not feel like you've run a marathon while carrying 4 people on your back.

Today, I had a moderate amount of energy. Under my old system of go till you drop, I probably could have done most of the dishes and wiped off the counter and then been dead to the world for the rest of the day.

Under the new system, I scooped litter boxes, cleaned out the fridge, took the trash out, cleaned the stove, and wiped off the counter and did all the dishes. And after all that, I still had it in me to make a simple dinner, unload the dishwasher, and tidy the kitchen.

It was complete and utter insanity. Just because I sat down whenever I felt myself getting more tired than I already was.

All this to say, take fucking breaks. It's time to unlearn the ceaseless productivity bullshit that capitalism has shoved down our throats. Its actively counterproductive. Just sit down. Drink some water. Rest your body when it needs to rest.

There will still be days where there is nothing to do but rest, and days where half a load of dishes is absolutely the most I can do. But this method has really helped me minimize those, which is so incredibly relieving.

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

So. Turns out he hates me (in part) cause I'm the reason he's here

[pedroscurls]

runaway bride (one-shot)

summary: on the day of your wedding, you find out that your maid of honor and husband-to-be has been hooking up behind your back... and you run directly into the arms of a stranger to help you cope with the sudden betrayal. pairing: old man!logan x fem!reader content warnings: smut (18+, mdni), oral - f receiving, dirty talk, manhandling, light choking, unprotected p in v sex (be safe folks!), doggy style, cowgirl, public sex in his limo, creampie but logan just keeps going, mentions of cheating (but not from logan), toxic relationship / friendship, implied age gap (but no mention of how old reader is), no use of y/n. word count: 3.6k a/n: ok, this is complete filth. i'm not even sure how this story came about or how it even came to mind, but here it is... i wanted to write old man logan so badly so what better way to do that is to write a smutty one-shot???

“Are you fucking serious?!” you exclaim, having opened the door to see your fiancé and your maid of honor in a heated kiss, hands exploring each other’s bodies. They both pull away from each other abruptly, eyes widening as the sudden realization of getting caught now settling in.

“Baby, it’s not–”

“Fucking save it.” You remove your engagement ring and toss it in his general direction, tears trickling the corners of your eyes. 

Your best friend tries to step forward, but you raise your hand in the air and glare at her. “Don’t fucking get near me or I will lay you on your ass.”

“I’m sorry–” your fiancé begins to say.

“We’re done.” you interrupt, anger fuming in your veins. “You can go out there and tell everyone that the wedding’s canceled because fuck you,” you tell him and then point to your maid of honor, your best friend of over fifteen years. “And fuck you.” 

You don’t even bother to hear their protests, already having turned on your heel and left the building without telling anyone. You see two limos parked out front, knowing that one belonged to your bridal party and the other belonging to your fiancé and his groomsmen. You don’t have time to think which one was the limo you rode in, already wanting to leave far, far away from here. 

Pulling open the door, you slide inside and then finally allow yourself to let the tears fall. You bury your face in your hands, your breaths coming in pants. 

“Just– Just take me anywhere else but here,” you tell the driver, looking up and expecting to see the same driver from this morning. When you realize it’s someone else entirely, you bite your lower lip and shake your head. Of fucking course you chose the limo that your fiancé had been in.

“A bit early to be leaving your own wedding, isn’t it?” he says, looking at you from the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, well, the wedding is off. Can you just take me away from here?” 

Logan clears his throat. It doesn’t take a genius to know what might have happened, but he also knows that you’re not the one who he’s meant to drive and he’s certainly aware that you aren’t the one who’s going to be paying him either. 

“Listen, darlin’, I’m supposed to be driving the groom and–”

“Well, he can go fuck himself. Can you please just drive?”

“Last I checked, he’s paying me and you ain’t.”

“Oh, he’s gonna still pay you. Now, drive.” you tell him, holding his gaze. “Please.”

Logan stares at you. He isn’t sure what exactly happened, but based on the conversations he heard the groom and groomsmen having earlier that morning, he has some idea that it had to do with the groom cheating on you. He just lets out a grunt and then starts the engine, pulling away from the curb and driving away from the venue.

He doesn’t know where he’s supposed to go or where you want to go, so he just drives. Logan continuously looks at you from the rearview mirror, now fully taking in your features. Logan wasn’t a man who ever cheated on a woman he was with; he’s always been so loyal, especially to the ones he cares about the most. He never understood why men (and women) cheat, why they just couldn’t end the relationship if they were no longer happy. 

He hears you sniffling from the backseat and Logan slowly comes to a stop at a red light. He turns his head to look at you from over his shoulder. “Bub, you gotta tell me where you wanna go or else I’m just gonna keep charging him.”

“Good. Let’s take a trip to fucking Mexico and make him pay for it,” you say through gritted teeth. 

Logan lets out an amused chuckle and then presses lightly on the gas once the light turns green. He keeps one hand on the steering wheel as he uses his free hand to enter Mexico on his phone and–

“Wait, I wasn’t serious.”

“No? Then, where do you wanna go, darlin’?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Anywhere but here.” you mumble to yourself.

Logan nods to himself and then sets his focus on the road ahead of him. He doesn’t know where to go, but he does find that he doesn’t want this ride to end. Even in the silence, he finds your presence soothing, comforting. He knows you’re having a shitty day – after all, you probably had woken up this morning expecting to be married by the end of today. 

He does keep stealing glances at you, finding you completely captivating. Even when your eyes meet his from the rearview mirror, Logan feels like he had been caught staring and a blush slowly blooms across the side of his neck. He’s too old to be feeling like this, like some kind of a teenager with a crush on the most beautiful girl who’s out of his league.

“How about some food?” Logan asks after driving for about twenty minutes. “Are you hungry?” 

“No.”

“Okay,” he sighs. “Wanna go to a bar? Drink your problems away?”

“No.”

Logan tightens his jaw and then pulls into a gas station, putting the car in park as he turns around to look at you. You bite your lower lip, getting a good view of just how handsome your driver is. He’s definitely older than you, gray in his beard and hair, crow’s feet at his eyes, but you can’t help the attraction you feel towards him. Suddenly, you’re well aware that you’re staring too long at him because when you finally meet his eyes, he’s smirking. 

“Why’d we stop?” you ask.

“Gotta fill up, especially if I don’t know how long I’ll be driving you around,” Logan replies. “You want anything from inside?” 

Just as the question leaves his lips, you climb out from the backseat and walk inside. Logan sighs and steps out of the limo as he follows you into the small store. He towers over you and he can’t help but get a good look at the dress you’re wearing. You look so angelic, so beautiful and serene – how could anyone think that there’s better than you? 

“Get whatever you want,” Logan calls out and you suddenly turn around to look up at him. He watches your lower lip pull itself between your teeth, sees your eyes take in his frame from top to bottom, and suddenly, he feels very shy under your gaze. Logan clears his throat, eyes narrowing. “What?” 

“Nothing,” you say, tilting your head up at him. “Just didn’t think… Well, not all limo drivers look like you.” 

“Not all limo drivers are like me either,” he mutters to himself. “Right. I’ll be up at the front. Just meet me there once you’re ready.” Then, Logan turns on his heel and slowly limps his way to the front, only glancing over his shoulder to briefly look at you. Your back’s already turned as you reach for a few items in the freezer section. 

After a few minutes, you meet Logan at the front of the store and drop two bottles of water and a cherry-flavored popsicle. Logan eyes you suspiciously, but you keep your eyes trained on your feet. He has to wonder if your mind is drifting to your fiancé. Once Logan pays the cashier, he motions for you to walk ahead of him with a slight nod and then he follows you outside. Logan quickly limps to the door and opens it for you, staring down at you. 

“Here,” you tell him, handing him one of the bottle of waters. 

Logan arches a brow. “Thanks,” he mumbles, the close proximity almost making him weak in the knees. His eyes deviate to your cleavage, clearing his throat when his mind begins to drift. All Logan can think about is seeing you come undone underneath him, trembling and moaning because of him. He has to take a step back, has to create some distance between your bodies. 

You then remove the wrapping of the popsicle and then wrap your lips around it, the deep red popsicle now coloring your lips. You keep your eyes locked on his and smile mischievously before you climb back inside. Logan shuts the door once you’re inside, the image of your lips around the popsicle giving him a clear image of your lips wrapping around his–

He hears the window roll itself down and Logan quickly walks around to the other side to fill up the tank, not bothering to look into the backseat as he feels the center of his black pants begin to tighten with each passing second. 

Logan hasn’t been intimate in a very long time, his main concern being Charles and his own health, but you… Well, you’re stirring something in Logan that he thought lay dormant. He craves you and he knows that you’re also very vulnerable, having just ran away from your own wedding after finding out your fiancé was cheating on you. Logan doesn’t want to take advantage of you, despite sensing that you might want him too. 

Once the tank is filled up, Logan then walks back to the driver’s seat and climbs in, starting the car. He looks at you from the rearview mirror, still sucking on the fucking popsicle with a dark gaze in your eyes. 

“Where to?” he says, not realizing how quiet his voice comes out.

“Anywhere.”

“Making it real difficult for me, bub.”

You pull the popsicle away from your mouth a quiet pop! and then lets a small smile line your lips, deeply red from your cherry-flavored popsicle. Logan’s hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white and his claws threatening to come out as a result. 

“Fine. How about your place?” 

Logan lets out a quiet cough, not thinking that you’d be so forward and straight to the point. He shakes his head and then looks over at you from over his shoulder. “Don’t think that’s a good idea, darlin’. You’re only going to regret it and–”

“Listen, I just found out my fiancé and maid of honor were screwing around behind my back. The only regret I have right now is saying yes to marry that man and being friends with that woman. I don’t think I’m going to regret fucking you, though.”

Logan isn’t used to women saying what they want as bluntly as you do and it excites him. He doesn’t answer, just begins driving away from the gas station. He’s so hard beneath his pants, glancing over at you and seeing your eyes locked completely on his. He pulls up into an abandoned parking lot and parks the car, thankful that the windows on his limo are tinted. Logan climbs out from the driver’s seat and then opens the door to the backseat, gently reaching out to take the popsicle from your hands and tossing it over his shoulder. 

“Let’s have you suck something else, huh, darlin’?” 

You grin and then gently tug on the lapel of his jacket, pulling him inside with you as you shut the door behind him. You’re glad that the backseat of his limo is actually rather spacious because now that he’s hovering above you, he seems so much bigger than you, so much more broad. Your hands immediately move across his chest, feeling the chiseled muscles underneath your fingertips.

“I don’t normally do this,” Logan groans, feeling your lips move along the side of his neck, teeth grazing his skin.

“And what’s that? Fuck your passengers?” 

He growls lowly, moving his strong hands to your hips and pressing himself firmly against your lower half as he settles himself between your legs. “You always got a mouth on you?” 

You smirk and pull the ends of your dress higher up your legs until you bunch it at your hips, your white lace panties in full view for him. “Only when I want something.”

“Yeah, and what do you want?” Logan asks, hands moving to play with the waistband of your panties. 

“A distraction,” you grip the lapels of his jacket and bring him down to press your lips against his. He growls against your lips and tugs down your panties, hand moving quickly to your folds and running the length of his finger across your wet heat. 

Logan slides two fingers into you, not giving you time to get used to his thick digits. You let out a quiet gasp, pulling away from his lips to toss your head back at the intrusion. Logan moves you to sit back against the seat as he lies on his abdomen, lowering himself until his head settles between your legs. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of him between your legs, your fiancé having never done this for you. When you feel his mouth latch onto your clit, his tongue flicking against your bundle of nerves repeatedly as his fingers thrust in and out you, you have to let out a loud moan. Your hands move to his hair, gripping it tightly as your arousal drips onto the leather seat. 

Logan pulls his fingers out of you and laps at your juices. He stares up at you, watching as you toss your head back in ecstasy, your mouth agape as continuous moans escape your lips, and he can feel your walls begin to tremble, begin to tighten around his tongue. Logan knows his joints and muscles are going to ache after this, but he knows it’s going to be worth it. Knows that he’s going to want to do this again with you. 

With his free hand, Logan undoes the buckle on his belt, followed by undoing the zipper and button on his pants. He pushes his slacks and boxers down his legs to relieve the pressure against his manhood. He pulls back to look up at you, his chin and beard dripping wet from your slickness. 

“Gonna fuck you now,” he growls. 

“About fucking time.” 

Logan narrows his eyes and moves up your body, hand coming up to rest on your throat. He leans down and gently nips at your jawline until his forehead rests against yours, eyes staring deeply into your own. 

“You like this, don’t you, bub?” Logan whispers huskily, the grip around your throat tightening to add a bit of pressure. You gasp, eyes staring up at him as you feel the tip of his length brush against you repeatedly. The grip around your throat only makes you wetter and you lift your hips impatiently, chasing his hardened length to slide down onto him.

“So impatient,” he grins. Logan releases his grip around your throat and then grabs your hips, turning you over onto your stomach. He grabs you roughly, pulling you back into him as he grips the fabric of your dress. He pulls you to prop yourself on your hands on knees as he kneels behind you, gripping the base of his manhood as he rubs his tip along the length of your sex. 

“Please!” you say impatiently, trying to push back against him. 

Logan smirks and then pushes himself into your tight heat, not wasting any time in filling you to the hilt. He groans at your wetness, at the warmthness of your walls, the tight hold it has around his girth. He pulls back to his tip, only to slam back into you. Logan was telling the truth that he’s never done this before. Driving had only been a way for him to get extra cash, to keep his mind busy, and he certainly didn’t have time for this, but now he can’t even imagine parting ways with you after this. 

His thrusts continue, your walls sliding along his manhood and milking him with every movement. Logan moves to rest his chest firmly against your back, his lips hovering near your ear as you moan continuously with each thrust he delivers. 

“This what you wanted, huh, bub?” Logan growls, gently nipping at you earlobe. “Wanted me to fuck you like this?” He thrusts roughly into you, his skin slapping against yours. 

“Y–Yes!” you exclaim, slowly pushing your own hips back into his. Logan groans, leaning away from you and briefly pausing his movements to watch you move along him. He grunts to himself, lightly slapping your backside as he watches you push back against him. 

Logan watches himself disappear within your depths, only to reappear when you pull back, his entire length glistening with your arousal. He groans to himself and gently pulls out of you. You’re about to protest when he sits against the backseat and grabs you by the hips, placing you to sit on his lap. He grips your dress and rips it in half, causing a loud gasp of surprise to leave your lips. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles. 

“Fuck the dress,” you reassure him. “I didn’t pay for it anyway.” 

Logan smirks and then feels you lower yourself down onto him, groaning at your tight walls wrapping itself once more around him. He reaches around and undoes your white lace bra, watching it fall from your body as you now sit firmly on his lap, completely naked and exposed for him. 

“Fuck me,” he grunts, watching your breasts bounce with your movements. He feels your hands begin to undo the buttons on his white button down shirt, removing it from his body. Today, he opted to forgo his usual white tank top, so when you lean in to press your chest against his, he can’t help but groan at the sensation of your erect nipples pressing firmly against him.

Logan feels your walls begin to tremble with each movement and he leans in to press his lips against yours, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. With one hand, he moves to grip your throat lightly, sliding his tongue past your lips when you let out a loud moan. He stares up at you, thrusting his hips upwards when your body begins to shake and the grip around your throat only tightens a smidge to cause pressure. 

Your eyes shut tightly and you reach down to grip his shoulders, slamming yourself firmly onto his lap as he feels you to the hilt. Logan doesn’t falter his movements though, chasing his own release. It comes out of nowhere there, hand dropping from the grip around your throat to grab his base, thrusting upwards once, twice, before he pulls out to see his release trickle out of you. 

You’re breathing heavily and you’re looking at him with a small smile and hooded eyes. When he looks down between your legs, his come continuing to trickle down your leg, it only ignites a fire inside of him and he suddenly feels hard again. 

“One more, bub,” Logan growls. “One more.” He thrusts his tip inside of you, grunting lowly before he slides back into you, hands gripping the meat of flesh on your thighs as he feels the stickiness of your arousal mixed in with his come against the base of his lower half. 

Your nails dig into his shoulders, dragging them down his arms as your walls are already overly sensitive. Logan doesn’t falter, but his thrusts do become more erratic. “Oh god,” you whimper, trying to pull yourself away from him, but Logan holds you firm on his lap, making you take his assault on you. 

You wanted a distraction and you were certainly getting it. 

Logan leans up and gently nips at your jawline as he plants his feet on the floor of his limo, driving his hips further upwards. He does this a few more times before he holds you against him, releasing into you a second time as he paints your walls with his thick spend. He’s breathing heavily, forehead resting against your chest as his hands on your thighs move to rest on your hips. 

“I uh, fuck,” he mumbles. “I should have asked first and–”

“Stop,” you interrupt. “I like that I can still feel you inside of me,” you smile, feeling him slowly pull out. Even though you miss his girth, his release remains and fills you up. You reach down to wipe the trickle of his come off your inner leg and capture it on the pads of your fingertips. You stare into his eyes and then bring your fingers to your lips, wrapping your lips around it and sucking his release off of it. “Mmm, yum.”

Logan growls, feeling his length stir awake once more. “That want you wanted?” he asks again. “A distraction?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But I think I’m gonna want more distractions from you.”

Logan smirks. “That so, bub?”

“Oh yeah, I need someone to help me through this breakup,” you say honestly. “As long as that’s okay with you…”

Logan nods and then looks down at your exposed front, hand coming up to slowly knead your breast into the pit of his palm. “Yeah, baby. That’s more than okay with me.”

You grin excitedly, letting out a quiet whimper. “So… Your place then?”

“My place,” he confirms. “But how about you ride up front with me?” 

“Yes, please. I do want a taste of you,” you bite your lower lip, hand moving to gently run your fingertip along the length of his manhood. “And I want to do it while you’re driving.”

Logan groans. “Oh, you’re fucking naughty, aren’t you?” 

You nod shyly, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’ve been suppressed,” you admit. “My sex life has been… boring, to say the least.” 

“Blessing in disguise,” Logan points out. “Thank god you’re not getting married to a man who doesn’t take care of your needs.” He leans in and then pecks your lips. “Don’t worry, though, bub. I’m happy to take care of you until then.” 

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

[yuujispinkhair]

Boxer!Sukuna Part 2 - Becoming a Dad

I got this lovely ask about how Boxer!Sukuna would react if Reader got pregnant, and I wanted to write a little something for it. Thank you so much for sending me that.

You can read Part 1 of my Boxer!Sukuna headcanons here

Pairing: Boxer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: fluff Word Count: 1.8k Warnings: 18+, fluff + mentions of smut. Pregnancy, mentions of boxing injuries, modern AU. Sukuna + Reader are engaged. You can read Part 1 for more general headcanons about Boxer!Sukuna, and his and Reader's relationship. But you don't need Part 1 to understand Part 2. Minors don't interact. Divider @/benkeibear

++ Boxer!Sukuna feels as if one of his opponents punched him in the guts when you place the positive pregnancy test in his lap and look at him with big, worried eyes. He catches himself quickly, though, when he sees how anxious you are, and pulls you on his lap, and wraps you in his strong arms. One large hand cups your head and cradles it against Sukuna's broad chest. "Hey, princess. It's ok. You hear me, sweetheart? Everything is fine."

++ Boxer!Sukuna sure as hell won't let you be scared. He is man enough to comfort you when you need it, even though he is probably just as nervous as you are. If you listen closely, you can hear how fast his heart is beating, but Sukuna makes sure to distract you from that by pressing his lips against your temple and murmuring reassurance to you, followed by little kisses.

++ Boxer!Sukuna never thought he would have kids. But he also never thought he would find love. But you changed him. You taught him love. So he thinks that you can also teach him how to be a dad. And the thought of having a baby with you fills him with such warmth and pride that he just knows he wants this and will make it work.

++ Boxer!Sukuna's low voice is as sure and confident as ever when he tells you, "Take your time to decide what you want. I will be with you on every path you choose. I love you. I'm your man, always. I couldn't imagine having a screaming little brat with anyone else. But with you? Yeah, absolutely. And if you make me a daddy, then I will make damn sure to be a good one. I want to have that baby with you."

++ Boxer!Sukuna can't help but smile when you press your face into his defined pecs and tell him that you are scared but that you want to have a baby with him, too.

++ Boxer!Sukuna is already your fiancé anyway, but if he hadn't already asked you to marry him, he would have done so right now after finding out you carry his baby under your heart.

++ Boxer!Sukuna places a large hand on your belly, his long fingers sprawling gently over it. It's astounding that a strong, rough man like him can touch someone this tenderly. It surprises him, too, and he laughs softly, already knowing he will be such a menace during your pregnancy. Super protective and always taking the best care of his soon-to-be wife and mommy of his little brat.

++ Boxer!Sukuna catches himself being more careful in the ring as your pregnancy progresses. He used to let his opponents land a few hard punches to rile him up and give the crowd a good show. But now he doesn't want to risk an injury. He is going to be a dad soon. He will have such a big responsibility. He cannot afford to get injured and land himself in the hospital for several weeks, or worse, have a lifelong injury that keeps him from being the husband and father he wants to be.

++ Boxer!Sukuna changes his tactic, dropping the playful show and instead ending his fights earlier with merciless, hard punches, which are aimed precisely. The fans are still cheering like crazy and happy about the show he gives them when Sukuna wins every fight with a knockout.

++ Boxer!Sukuna feels even more motivated now that you are having his baby. He wants to win the championship and that new advertising deal with that big clothing line. The one he has turned down for years because he thought it was stupid. But now he will say yes because he wants to get more money so he can assure his beautiful wife and baby will always have a good life and never have to worry about money at all.

++ Boxer!Sukuna is a busy man with all the long hours he has to invest in training and in the preparation for his fights. But he always tells his personal assistant, Uraume, to make time in his busy schedule for your doctor appointments during the pregnancy. He wants to be by your side. Wants to drive you there and make sure you get there safely. He wants to hold your hand while the two of you look at the ultrasound of your tiny baby, letting you know that Sukuna will keep his word.

++ Boxer!Sukuna has always been a very caring boyfriend/fiancé, and now he is an even more caring husband and soon-to-be daddy. Seeing you with your big baby bump makes him want to wrap you in his strong arms at all times, ensuring you are safe and taken care of.

++ Boxer!Sukuna loves bonding with you and your baby that’s growing inside you. You laugh and tease him for being so clingy, but he knows you love it. Sukuna loves showering with you, standing behind you, so much taller than you, letting you lean against his strong body while he wraps his arms around you, holding you safely in his embrace, making sure you won't slip. His large hands sprawl over your swollen belly while his lips trail kisses from your neck to your shoulders, and he grins anytime he feels his little baby kick strongly against mommy's belly and daddy's hand.

++ Boxer!Sukuna is extremely protective of you and his little daughter once she is born. No pictures are allowed. The paparazzi don't even dare come to your street. They try it once when you get out of the hospital with your newborn baby, but Sukuna scares them off by punching one of them. He has a mad grin on his tattooed face, sneering at that guy and telling him, "If you or any of your colleagues come near my wife or child, I will do the same thing again, but this time I'll make sure to knock out some of your teeth."

++ Boxer!Sukuna has won so many fights, so many titles and yet nothing touched him like holding his little girl in his strong, tattooed arms, gently swaying her from side to side at 3 am, after Sukuna rolled over in bed and kissed your naked shoulder, telling you to get some more sleep, "I will take care of the little princess." And now he is gazing down at this tiny little baby. His and your baby. And somehow, his vision is so blurry, and his eyes feel so weirdly moist.

++ Boxer!Sukuna smiles, a real smile, as he blinks the tears that almost welled up away and tells his little daughter, "You are the most perfect baby ever, little one. Not like all those ugly brats I see everywhere." He laughs to himself, low and raspy, just when you come out of the bedroom, rolling your eyes as you walk up to him with a matching laugh falling from your lips. You get on your tiptoes to kiss the tattoos on Sukuna's cheek and tell him he is the worst, with a voice full of love, and Sukuna thinks he is the luckiest guy ever.

++ Boxer!Sukuna wraps one strong arm around you and pulls you against his tall, muscular body, hugging you gently while he carries your little baby in his other arm. Holding both of his girls, grinning because he knows this here is the best thing he ever had. Better than any title he has ever won and will ever win.

++ Boxer!Sukuna still needs you to kiss his boxing gloves before each fight. But now he also added a new ritual. Brushing over the soft hair of his little daughter with his boxing gloves before he leans down to press a kiss on her little forehead and tell her, "Daddy will win this fight. For you and mommy."

++ Boxer!Sukuna is mature enough to know that a boxing arena isn't the right place for a baby, so he would never ask you to sit in your usual spot but rather have you backstage, cuddling your daughter while you watch his fight on the screen without all the loud noises and the riled up atmosphere. But on the evenings, when you have a babysitter and you can sit in front of the boxing ring, Sukuna fights extra well, spurred on by the knowledge that you are there. Just like he fucks you extra good in his private locker room afterward, taking you hard and rough against the wall, loving that he and you can be as loud as you want here, making sure you squeal his name over and over again like a prayer.

++ Boxer!Sukuna still takes you on dinner dates on those nights when you have someone who looks after your daughter. Because he wants the two of you to always stay lovers, too, and not just mommy and daddy. He makes sure to savor those dates thoroughly, flirting with you, leaning across the table to kiss you and whisper dirty things in your ear, or complimenting you on how beautiful you look. He makes sure to not just fuck you all riled up after a fight but also make sweet slow love to you, telling you to look deeply into his maroon eyes as he rolls his hips against yours and lets you feel every inch of his long and thick cock.

++ Boxer!Sukuna is very passionate about his boxing career, but his little family always comes first. When you are sick, he cancels a big fight just so he can stay home and look after you and your daughter, and somehow, it makes him become even more popular because suddenly, the big, bad boxing champion seems a lot more human to everyone.

++ Boxer!Sukuna is adamant about teaching his little girl how to fight, just like her daddy. She gets her first boxing gloves on her third birthday. Pink ones with Hello Kitty on them, and Sukuna proudly shows her how to punch the little punching bag he bought for her and installed in the living room.

++ Boxer!Sukuna never wants his daughter to actually follow in his footsteps and become a boxer because he knows he won't be able to stand in front of the ring and watch his little princess get hit. But he is so proud of her when she punches her little punching bag.

++ Boxer!Sukuna tells his little girl to fight him, grinning his boyish grin as he circles around the living room doing a "boxing match" against his little one. He lets her land several punches on his abs, and Sukuna groans dramatically and sinks to his knees before he lets himself fall onto his side and lie there, holding back his laughter while you count to ten and declare your giggling daughter the winner.

++ Boxer!Sukuna is such a successful and feared boxer, always living up to his stage name, The King of Curses. So strong and intelligent, seemingly unbeatable. But the two of you are his big weakness. You brought Sukuna to his knees, and he loves every second of it.

Boxer!Sukuna never thought he would be a dad, but now that he is one, he can't even imagine how life was before the three of you became a family. His little family will always be his safe haven. His retreat after all the exhausting time in the boxing ring and in front of all those flashing cameras. This here is truly all he needs. His two girls. The two loves of his life. No matter how many titles Sukuna wins, the titles he will always be the most proud of are husband and daddy.

IT WAS SO NICE AND COMFORTING TO WRITE THIS 💗💗 He makes me so lovesick!! What a man!!

I hope this little story could give you comfort, too. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗