it sounds stupid, but katsuki absolutely hates it when you cross your arms. it’s like you’re closing yourself off from him and he doesn’t like it. not one bit. so yeah, even if you’re arguing and he’s mad at you. he gives himself a second to cool down and with a huff he grips your arms and pulls them apart. he doesn’t keep ahold of them, he’s still mad. but he just. pulls them away from your chest and rips loose the muscles that were once locked in place.
“don’t fuckin’ do that.” he grumbles, before crossing his own arms seconds later.
[mdni, jayce x fem!reader, oräl (f receiving), p in v peneträtion, jayce is very pathetic in this!!]
thinking about virgin!jayce today and how he probably is just so sweet. how he kisses so tenderly, asks for permission in everything he does, & wants to be praised every step of the way.
he’s a little shy when he tells you for the very first time. flushed red as he glances from your lips to your gaze, laughing a little nervously to fill any space between the two of you. he’d probably be a little unsure of what to do at first and might need a little guiding; and you’re more than happy to help him. leading him by the hand, reassuringly kissing his pouty lips, guiding his hand between your parted thighs. he asks with every breath he takes between kisses if he’s doing okay, if this is okay. you’d laugh a little but nod, muttering that it’s ‘perfect’.
with your help he’d figure out how much he loves fingering and eating you out. dives between your thighs to spit, slick, and lap against your pussy; slipping an experimental finger inside of you. and when you start to make the prettiest noises, jayce knew right then and there; he’d want to stay like that forever. tasting you on every inch of his tongue, making you moan, feeling your pussy tighten around his curled finger. god he could die happy right there.
but you needed much more than just the slip of his tongue.
and when he finally settles between your thighs, the tip of his cock slipping between your soaking wet folds, he’s lightheaded. eyes fixated on where the two of you meet. his mouth slightly agape as he watches himself slowly disappear inside of you. “fuck…” he’d groan and as soon as he fully seats inside of you, he has to stop himself from moving; completely stills as he restrains himself from moving. unable to do so for he might come any second with the way your pussy grips so tightly around him. and when he finally calms down enough to move, he’s cautious at first. his hips move slowly, testing the motions, drawing every thick inch of his cock in and out of you, before his composure crumbles completely.
and before you know it, jayce is quickly rutting into you. he tries his hardest to keep his eyes open but he loses that battle in the end; eyes screwed tightly shut as he focuses on pleasing you and not tumbling over in his orgasm. “are you ok? is this ok?” he’d mutter, taking your high pitched moans with every plow he stakes into your pussy as a yes.
and he never comes until you do. no matter how difficult it might be, he always holds himself back until your back is arching, nails dig into his shoulders, crying with sweet moans, and your pussy tightens even more around him when he finally slips out to allow himself to come.
and god does he love the mess he makes across your skin. “one more time.” he’d beg. and how could you say no?
Lucifer had been at his desk since returning from RAD when Diavolo approached him, asking for help with paperwork. Reluctantly agreeing, knowing Diavolo should handle it himself, he found himself amidst a pile of documents needing revision by tomorrow afternoon.
He had worked through half the stack, pausing only for dinner, bathroom breaks, or to scold his brothers. Well past midnight, an unusual exhaustion and a looming migraine plagued him. Rubbing his temples, he continued with his pen, suddenly feeling a chill down his spine—a feeling that drew him to check the kitchen. Perhaps Beel was sneaking another midnight snack? Ignoring his fatigue, he headed downstairs, intending to give Beel a piece of his mind.
Approaching the kitchen, an eerie silence surrounded him, broken only by faint huffs and whispers inside. “whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck,” a voice muttered urgently.
“Mc, what are you doing here so late?” he called out sternly, eyes adjusting to find you huddled on the counter. “Why are perched on the counter?”
“I wanted water, but then that thing showed up behind me,” you whispered hastily. Lucifer followed your gaze, spotting a sizable rat staring from the floor.
“You're on the counter clutching a ladle because of a rat?”
“Where I come from, rats aren't this gargantuan!” you retorted, not amused by Lucifer’s playful tone. He smirked before scaring off the rat, earning a disbelieving look from you. Was he seriously letting it go? You swung your legs down as the creature scurried away. “Are you just letting it run off?”
“No, I’ll have Barbatos handle it,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Oh great, as if my suffrage wasn’t enough; now you're dragging poor Barb into it,” you hopped off the counter, grabbing your glass of water before turning to him. “Why did you come down here at this hour?” You checked the kitchen clock, realizing with a small gasp that it was 2 AM.
“To be honest, I felt compelled to come. It was... intriguing,” he explained, guiding you out of the kitchen and into the hall, his touch lingering on the small of your back.
“You so sensed I was in danger.”
“Sure I did,” he cracked a small smile, quickly glancing behind him—hoping you hadn’t caught his amusement at your less-than-hilarious joke that still managed to tickle him. “Almost like spidey-senses.”
You and your husband Sam had just gotten back to the farm house after socializing all day at the Luou on the beach. You two plopped down on the couch exhausted.
Sam was going on about something when you decided to get more comfy. You casually took your bra off without taking off your tank top, pulling one arm out at a time, not losing Sam's eye contact until his gaze lowered and his words trailed off into silence as he stared at you in awe.
"Whoa, that was so cool, can all girls do that?" He asked excitedly like he just found out you had a new power you had never told him about.
You chuckle and throw your sports bra on the couch lazily and he grabs it quickly.
"Mine now." He says bringing it to his face.
"Ew but its all sweaty."
He holds it over his head with his toungue out like he's wringing it out to catch your sweat in his open mouth.
"Gross! Youre such a freak Sam." You teased lightly pushing him on his shoulder.
"Only for you baby." He says bringing his hand to your waist, nuzzling his face in your hair for a second before he gently pushes you down on the couch cageing you between his strong biceps to kiss your lips.
This with yn and harry on the red carpet during the 1d days
oh my gosh YESS
As the band moves down to the next spot of the red carpet, YN clutches the side of the long train of her dress to make sure Niall or the other boys don’t step in it—by accident or on purpose. They all situate themselves so that each band member can place a hand on each other’s backs as they pose to get their pictures taken. Harry has to admit, this is one of his favorite stances that the band takes on walks like these. Since being a teenager, thankfully he’s been able to control the blush that tends to rise to his cheeks at her soft touch.
It’s moments like these where he slips into a faint daydream. While he loves the boys so very dearly, he imagines a scenario where it’s just the two of them on the red carpet—waiting in line at a coffee shop, walking down the streets lined with shopping outlets, or escorting her out of a fancy restaurant. With his hand protectively and possessively clutched around her waist, she would be his and nothing else would matter.
Out of the corner of his eye, he can see the way how naturally she shifts her head to the screaming paparazzi in front of them, the lights from their flashing cameras are blinding but she makes it seem like it's no bother to her. She poses so elegantly, her mesh-covered leg peaks out just enough from the slit of her dress and it leaves him having to concentrate extra hard to keep his gaze forward.
He also sees the way she looks down at herself, taking her hand out from Niall’s back and trying (but failing) to discreetly tug on the top part of her dress as she feels it begins to slip. It was yet another tactic their management has forced upon her “good girl” image: making the fabric at her bust compressed and low yet “hiding” it under a layer of mesh to not seem too exposed.
Without a second thought, Harry rotates himself to stand in front of her as she adjusts her tight fabric over her chest. He doesn’t look down at her at first as he gives her the privacy that she needs. Instead, he fixes his gaze on one of the American Music Awards icons on the wall beside her head, rubbing his index finger under his nose with that furrow in his eyebrows.
YN looks up at him surprised but quickly takes the opportunity to finish fixing herself, ignoring the groans and questioning the paparazzi yell out. Although Harry’s the sweetest man she’s ever met in her life, the scowl on his face as he looks beside himself can intimidate any building of a man. When he finally meets her eyes, his heart nearly melts in his chest at the endearing smile she gives him. With a nod of reassurance, she gives him a loving squeeze of his arm in return as he goes back to his spot next to her left.
If this were a different scenario, if he truly acted out on the “bad boy” persona that their management team tried to bestow onto him, if he wasn’t media trained for it (or if his mum didn’t teach him any better), he would yell back at the deafening men at the barricade with their cameras reaching for the best shot of the band.
Unknowingly to her, all of his anger seems to dissipate when he feels her hand slide from its platonic place at the middle of his broad back to the bottom of his spine. The action is unexpected to him and it almost makes him physically shudder at her touch.
So instead of his mutual facial expression that he’s been giving the cameras from the start of the night, a small smirk sits comfortably on his lips.
