If you ever scroll past a fic on ao3 that hasn't been updated in a while and think to yourself "man they've probably abandoned this", just know that the authors do constantly think about these fics and it does keep them up at night.
(In other news I've just uploaded the last chapter to a fic I haven't updated in three years ajdkjakdjak)
Nanami gets a kick out of how innocent and pure you are in front of others. Around friends, family, coworkers, strangers, you’re still that shy, timid girl he fell in love with all those years ago. Always smiling with kindness twinkling in your eyes. Perfectly sweet to just about everyone you meet. You’re beloved by everyone in your life and in his. A true angel in disguise gracing this mundane world of his.
When it’s just the two of you, though, you turn into a completely different person: a fiend hellbent on making him lose his goddamn mind.
Tonight, you're locked in your bedroom, fucking each other silly. Well, it’s more like you're fucking him. You straddle his lap, riding his cock, already so sensitive from his first orgasm. His creampie leaks out from your pussy, making a mess between you, but you don’t care. He’s twitching from overstimulation, moaning your name as you bounce faster on his dick, pumping another load out of him. He’s spent beyond belief, but he knows better than to deny you of your fill. No matter how much he whines about how sensitive he is, he wants this. He needs this.
Limbs wobbly from exhaustion, he kneels behind you, watching with half-lidded eyes as you position yourself on your hands and knees, teasing his wet cock between your ass cheeks. He stares at your pussy, drooling with his cum, already eager to be back inside you. He lets you do all the work, be in control, use him as your own personal sex toy until you’re satisfied. And that doesn’t happen until you throw your ass back and forth on his dick, filling yourself up with his third creampie of the night, the sheets beneath you ruined with sweat, spit, and slick.
To Nanami, there’s nothing better than being fucked stupid by you, his gorgeous, perfect wife.
The summons comes on a hot and humid night in the middle of summer, thunder clouds rolling sluggishly across the sky. He doesn’t know what year it is, doesn’t care enough to keep track, just knows that the new millennium is still young and that there's a new Star Wars movie out. They're not as good as the old ones, of course - brimming with fancy special effects but lacking all of the magic, all of the heart. But he doesn't venture into the human plane often, these days, and it's not like he has anything better to do.
He has just made it through the sheer endless row of trailers and the even more endless row of commercials and is getting comfy in his seat, and the first notes of the familiar theme are starting to fill the theater when he feels it. The unmistakable painful pull just above his navel, like somebody has dug a hook into his flesh and is yanking on it.
A groan that is equal parts pain and annoyance tears its way out of his throat, because really? Now?
He sits with gritted teeth, fingers digging into the armrest, and tries to ignore it. It's probably a bunch of tipsy teenagers messing with a oija board or some college girls playing Bloody Mary in their dorm room. They'll chicken out soon enough.
Except they don't and the pull is getting harder to ignore by the minute.
"Jesus fuck-" he mutters. Can't a guy watch his shitty movie in peace?
The invisible hook gives a violent lurch and he almost topples off his seat.
Well, that answers that.
He knows there's no getting out of this, not when it gets this bad, and he knows how the boss gets when he tries to slack off. There's really no way out of it, is there?
LET ME RAISE GAIUS AND GIVE HIM MODERN CHILDHOOD </3 I WILL WATCH ALL YOUR SOCCER GAMES MY LORD <////3
Your phone rings.
You: "G'day. Blackwell's Roadside Diner: You kill 'em, we grill 'em!"
Lucius: *with barely contained fury* "What have you done with the king?"
You: "Oh, he's fine. He's playing with the other sprogs. Go get em', your majesty!"
Lucius: "The... other... sprogs? You don't mean... children... do you?"
Meanwhile, Gaius is sitting in the middle of the soccer pitch, staring at all the kids running around him, having some vivid flashbacks to the punic wars.
Steve will put on sweatpants and not do up the drawstring, then when he puts his phone in his pocket, walking around the house casually, his sweats slllllllowly slide down his hips, exposing the elastic waistband of his boxers and his Adonis belt until he realizes and adjusts them again absent-mindedly.
Bucky will actually threaten anyone who dares to try and explain that that is what the drawstrings on sweats are for.
fun fact this has been sitting labeled as lobotomy .svg while i worked on it and the name severely concerned my friends. also under the cut is the obscene number of layers this took bc its vector and not raster
and heres a couple various and random sketches as ive tried to figure out how to draw the mercenaries in my style
the struggle is real tryna figure out the side profiles, but i am trying ;-;
i dont know how many shapes this took and i dont wanna know. please appreciate my layer organization tho