#Weight Lifting Gloves

[body-health-outlet]

Weight lifting fitness gloves

Weight lifting is not just a physical activity; it’s a lifestyle for many fitness enthusiasts. One essential accessory that often gets overlooked is fitness gloves. Weight lifting fitness gloves are designed not only to protect your hands but also to enhance your workout experience. In this article, we’ll explore the various aspects of weight lifting fitness gloves, general fitness gloves, and…

[shopsavvyfinds]

 ♡ ♡ ♡ RYMNT Minimal Weight-Lifting Gloves, Short Micro Workout Gloves Grip Pads with Full Palm Protection & Extra Grip for Men Women Weightlifting, Gym, Exercise Training ♡ ♡ ♡  

[periwinkla]

I live for Trucy trying to make Franziska laugh with her tricks...

Suggest blue! 💙💙💙

[churomo]

sorry I just have to say the way you draw albw link makes him look like he has the demeanor of a kicked/lost puppy. I mean this in the best way possible I love ur art 💖👀

ty ww that’s exactly how i perceive him

[ejochsner]

Summer Supers OC Aesthetics 5/7

Titan (She/Her) 🩷

Super Strength

[mister-eames]

1/2 OK BUT THAT LATEST PHOTOSHOOT OF TOM H THAT YOU REBLOGGED? Esp the last photo of him all sweaty in the jit jitsu shirt & gloves? Imagine Arthur trying to recruit eames for a job & tracking him down to this rundown shady boxing gym. Arthur, meticulously dressed, looks completely out of place & gets a few stares but is completely unbothered. Eames happens to be in the ring so Arthur gets to watch him for a while before Eames eventually notices him.

2/2 Arthur, finally approaching Eames, hands tucked into a sleek winter coat, brogues clicking across the floor... versus Eames, shirtless & sweaty, dishevelled fringe falling into his eyes."Mr. Eames.""Arthur. Pleasure, as always."(Also Eames makes Arthur help him remove his boxing gloves cos he knows Arthur wants him for something so he can get away with being cheeky.)

Okay I'm imagining THIS Eames and THIS Arthur.

Also, there is something incredibly erotic about the idea of Arthur removing Eames boxing gloves for him - like the mirror image of Eames helping Arthur with his tie or cufflinks

----

Heat is coming off of Eames in waves.

Arthur pretends not to notice the quick rise and fall of Eames chest, panting with exertion, nor the sweat dripping down his torso as he unstraps one glove with methodical movements. Warm puffs of air hit Arthurs ear as he attends to the first offered glove, but he doesn't notice that either.

The first one is stubborn. He tuts as he tugs, gripping Eames' wrist for leverage before it slips off and falls to the floor.

Eames blinks. "Arthur--"

"Shh."

The sound of velcro ripping fills the silence between them. The second glove slides off of Eames left hand slowly but smoothly, like silk sheets slipping off a naked body.

"So," Arthur raises his chin, pressing the glove to Eames' chest, "are you on board?"

Eames meets his gaze. He grins.

[shittygothbitch]

My lonely lil slice of heaven

[transitionsmobility144]

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Finding the perfect workout gear that seamlessly combines style and functionality is essential for a successful fitness journey. At Workout Reloaded, we understand the importance of looking good while performing your best. This article will explore three must-have fitness essentials: Weight Lifting Training Gloves, Women's Oversized Joggers, and Women's Sport Set for the gym.

Superior Grip and Comfort: Weightlifting Training Gloves

 

Our Weight Lifting Training Gloves are crafted to provide an unmatched grip and optimal comfort during weightlifting sessions. With a reinforced palm and adjustable wrist closure, these gloves offer a secure fit, allowing you to concentrate on perfecting your form and lifting confidently.

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Performance and Style: Women's Sport Set for the Gym

 

Make a bold statement at the gym with our Women's Sport Set, designed for performance and style. This coordinated set includes a comfortable sports bra and leggings, ensuring you look your best and feel confident during every workout. Elevate your gym wardrobe with this chic and versatile sports set.

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At Workout Reloaded, we prioritize quality, style, and functionality in all our fitness essentials. Our products are designed to empower individuals on their fitness journey by providing the perfect blend of performance and aesthetics.

Integrating Style into Your Workout Routine

 

Now that you've discovered the benefits of our Weight Lifting Training Gloves, Women's Oversized Joggers, and Women's Sport Set, it's time to integrate them into your workout routine seamlessly. Select the pieces that resonate with your style and complement your fitness goals for a well-rounded and fashionable approach to your fitness journey.

Conclusion: Elevate Your Fitness Wardrobe with Workout Reloaded

 

Your workout gear should support your performance and showcase your style. You can effortlessly blend fashion and function with Workout Reloaded's range of fitness essentials, including Weight Lifting Training Gloves, Women's Oversized Joggers, and Women's Sport Set. Elevate both your fitness wardrobe and performance with Workout Reloaded.

[dindjarindiaries]

Distraction

character: Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

prompts: "You need to distract me. Do something, anything." & Kissing as a distraction

main masterlist • prompt masterlist

Din's visor tilted at the sight of you, his modulated voice as charming as ever as he greeted you at your doorway. "Hey."

All you could do was blink at him in response, your gaze transfixed on the sight of his gloved hand clutching the hilt of a blade that was lodged between his shoulder and his chest.

"Can I come in?"

His words finally snapped you back into action. You all but tugged him inside, the anxious knot wounding itself even tighter within your chest when you heard him grunt at the movement. After securing the door closed, you turned back to Din and properly assessed the situation.

Your eyes weren't deceiving you. There was still a blade lodged inside his flesh, and he didn't seem worried about it whatsoever—despite how much crimson you saw staining his flight suit. "Shit, Din." You fussed as you practically ran around your flat in search of your medpac. "Shit."

Din huffed. "Don't you want to know how it happened?"

You fixed him with a look across the room. "You can tell me while we're fixing it."

Din hummed as you approached with the medpac. You eased him into the nearest chair and set the supplies on the table. "I'm gonna need a better distraction than that."

Your furrowed your brow, but didn't step preparing everything you would need to assist him. "What do you mean?"

Your stare remained on your hands as they sorted through the supplies in record time, but you were forced to stop when Din set his gloved hand over them. You looked back up at his visor, watching as he nodded towards the hilt of the blade. "I need you to take this out for me."

Your throat tightened with panic, but you spoke around it. "You... don't want to do that yourself?"

"I can't. It'll be too painful." Din tilted his helmet at you. "Haven't you done this before?"

Your voice was so strained that it was just a squeal. "No!"

Din's hand tightened around yours. "Listen. It's gonna be just fine. Once it's out, the pain will be more than manageable."

He took one of your hands and guided it to the hilt. Your racing heart plunged into your stomach, threatening to make you sick as you instead swallowed hard and focused on Din rather than yourself.

"I only need you to do two things for me. Okay?"

You nodded, more than happy to let Din's soothing voice guide you. It came as no surprise to you that he was the calmer one in this situation, despite the fact he was also the one with the weapon in his shoulder.

"You need to pull this out, and you need to distract me while you do it."

Your gaze searched his visor. "What kind of distraction do you need me to do?"

You instinctively tightened your grasp on the hilt, causing a tight groan to slip through Din's modulator that had clearly caught him by surprise. His next words were curt, but not angered. "Do something. Anything."

You nodded and gently adjusted your grasp. You thought through all your options, looking upon Din for something that you could use to distract him. If talking wouldn't be enough, then there had to be something more powerful.

Your gaze caught on the lip of his helmet. It would be a risky move, but with the fogginess of your panic for him blinding you, you didn't bother to consider the consequences. All you cared about was blinding his pain.

The first move you made was straddling him on the chair, which Din clearly didn't mind, based on the quick way he secured you there. Then, with the hand not clutching the weapon in his shoulder, you lifted his helmet just enough to press your parted lips against his.

It was sweet relief, an acknowledgement shared in the sighs between you, and for a moment it made you forget why you had done it. But the weight of the hilt in your hand still remained, even if the warmth of Din's mouth was a strong distraction.

You were right to make this choice. If he was enough to distract you, then you were no doubt more than enough to distract him.

Your hand on his jaw, which still balanced the metal rim of his helmet, tilted his head back further to deepen the kiss. The moment you pushed your tongue into his mouth, you tugged hard on the blade, freeing it from his shoulder.

Din released his groan into you, his teeth capturing your lip as he did so, but he never broke away from you. Instead, after a few heavy breaths, he simply returned the favor by exploring your mouth with a passion that left you breathless.

But again, the weight of the blade in your hand was too heavy to ignore.

You forced yourself to pull away from him, your brow shooting up as you did so. "That's enough of the distraction, Din." You showed him the blade in your hand. "It's out. We need to fix it now."

Din's gloved hand wrapped around the back of your neck. "It's fine. I can survive for a few more minutes."

When he made the move to kiss you again, you stopped him by setting your thumb over his lips. "Din." Your eyes were at least double their usual size. "You're bleeding out."

Din paused, his hand only leaving your neck to take the lip of his helmet from you. He removed it from his head completely, leaving you to gape in an entirely different way than you had before. His brow rose as his brown gaze burned at you with the same flame of desire that you had lit deep within yourself.

If the sound of Din's natural voice wasn't enough to make you melt on top of him, then the words he spoke certainly were. "Does it look like I give a fuck?"

You yet again blinked at him in surprise, unable to do anything except let the blade clatter to the floor as you willingly went back to him again. You kissed him like your lives depended on it, because—in a way—Din's did. And that's the way he wanted it.

He had just proven that you were more tempting to him than life itself, and that's what made it impossible to put an end to this "distraction."

[zephyrchama]

"Welcome back, it's been a while."

After a long time has passed, how might the Obey Me! demons welcome you home with a hug?

---

Lucifer tries to approach you in a calm and collected manner, but that facade easily crumbles as he gets closer. His pace quickens and his expression melts into an inscrutable blend of emotion. The man is fighting to stay composed.

He pulls you towards him, unwilling to wait a moment longer to have you in his arms. His gloved hands wrap around your back and waist with a secure grip. Your toes brush the ground as his hug lifts you to eye level, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Welcome back, I've missed you."

---

Mammon sprints up with the goofiest grin imaginable plastered on his face. He catches himself at the last moment though, grinding to a halt as a blush creeps over his ears. He wants to be cool. "You sure are a piece a work to keep The Great Mammon waiting."

His arrogant act is betrayed by the many glances in your direction. By the way he's clenching his fist so hard his knuckles are white, and by the way he immediately crumbles into your open arms the second you reach out. He throws his arms around your shoulders and digs his face into your neck. He grips the back of your top a little too hard, as if you might leave again any moment.

---

Leviathan sheds his insecurities and doubts, all negative emotions, just to be able to bask in your presence again. It's a moment he's looked forward to for weeks. He puts trust into the belief that you've also been looking forward to seeing him.

He wraps his arms and legs around you, unconsciously aiming to get as much skin contact as possible. "I've really missed you, you know!?" he half-shouts before burying his face in your shoulder. You fight to stay standing upright. Every little movement, every minor adjustment in posture you make causes Leviathan to snuggle closer until you can't tell where your limbs end and his begin.

---

Satan can't control all of the overwhelming emotions that hit him at once. He grabs hold of your hand, and with a palm on your back he pulls you close until your entire weight leans against him. At your touch, all he can do is smile.

"Glad to see you again." The two of you sway back and forth, turning your hug into a psuedo-Waltz. When you look into his eyes, Satan gives your hand a kiss and presses your intertwined fingers against his face.

---

Asmodeus laughs as he barrels into you. "Did you miss me? Of course you did!"

You stumble back several steps yet he catches you before you fall, latching onto your side like a matching puzzle piece. He rubs his cheek over your head, pausing every few seconds to give you a kiss as his free hand enthusiastically traces its way up your back.

Asmodeus is the most reluctant to let go. Making a mess of your hair and clothes only gives him a calculated opportunity to touch you more as he tidies up your appearance. His caress lingers over your collarbone and around your ear. His fingers brush against your mouth, which he then brings to his own lips.

---

Beelzebub falls to his knees, relieved to see you return safe and sound and glad to be by your side once more. His arms curl around your hips. He noses his face into your chest and looks up with a content smile as he greets you, "welcome back."

You lean over to return the hug, running your hands through his hair. You don't expect Beelzebub to stand, picking you up in the process. You steady yourself on his shoulders as he rises, his violet eyes not wavering from you for a second, tempting him to steal a kiss.

---

Belphegor wraps his arms around your shoulders and practically falls on you. He doesn't seem concerned that you're sinking to the ground. In fact, he's so preoccupied with cuddling up to you that there's no way to avoid sitting on the ground with this demon on top of you.

He curls his body around your legs. You feel his warm breath on your neck as he slowly exhales, "welcome back." He's awake, but nothing will stop him from pretending to be asleep as his grip strength loosens and his face trails down your body.

---

Diavolo laughs amicably as you approach. He wants you to come to him, and is so thrilled to have you back. He bends down to latch his arms under yours and swings you around, sweeping you off your feet as you twirl two, three times, then slow to a stop.

"How have you been?" In due time he wants to know everything, and hear all the stories of your time away in detail. For now, he's got you locked in a bear hug. You feel his lips brush over your hair as he lightly swings you back and forth.

---

Barbatos' hug is the most restrained. It's simple and polite. At first he was content to just greet you with a gentle handshake and loving gaze. Though, when you request a hug, there is no way he can say no.

He extends his arms around your back, gives you two soft pats, and hesitates for just a moment before letting you go.

At night that evening as you prepare for bed, you find a note in your pocket that Barbatos must have cunningly slipped in without anyone noticing. It's a detailed letter with everything he didn't get to tell you in person.

[gilverrwrites]

Touch-starved Jason Todd

Nobody asked but I did it anyway, GN!Reader, ≈400 words CWs: mild angst? non specific hurt/comfort but primarily fluff.

Despite his imposing stature, his proclivity for destruction, Jason sure can be quiet when he wants to be. Like a phantom in the night. You don’t know how long he’s been there. Don’t know when he climbed through your window and sat himself central on your couch, but you do know that looking at him right now makes your chest feel heavy, makes you long to alleviate whatever strain is weighing on him. His hair and shoulders hang low, his skin unusually pale and sallow but for the dark circles below his eyes.

He’s an immovable object, so you become the unstoppable force, splaying your fingers through his hair, gently brushing his scalp as you press yourself against him until his head fits snuggly against your sternum. Bar the subtle tension beneath his skin, he doesn’t respond and that makes you feel worse.

“Is this okay?” You should have asked sooner.

“More than okay.” You should have done this sooner.

He melts into you, muscles easing, upper body growing slack until you’re supporting the bulk of his upper body weight against your stomach. Gloved hands shake as they ghost across your legs, then, swiftly as though you might dissipate if he doesn’t act fast enough, he locks his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer still. Your bodies work in tandem, you open your legs, allowing him to slot his own between them, and he nuzzles his face deeper into the space between your ribs. Your hands gingerly slip downwards, one to cup the nape of his neck, the other to rub soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

“I can’t…” His already hoarse voice catches for a moment. You’re careful not to react, intentionally continuing your movements so as not to discourage him. “I can’t remember the last time I did this with… well anyone.”

“It’s okay.” You keep your voice even, unpatronising. “Take what you need.”

Without warning he shifts position, bringing you down, seating you on his lap so that you’re face to face. Your gentle grip on his back never wavers, nor do the concentric strokes of your fingertips.

“It’s not too much?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“Never.” There’s a smile on his lips then, he tries to hide it in the soft spot where your shoulder meets your collar, but you catch it before he can conceal himself in your comfort and you take a selfish moment to revel in the pride of lifting his spirits, if even for a moment before continuing; determined to reassure him, to emphasise that he will always be safe in your arms you repeat: “You will never be too much Jason.”

[yeyinde]

Would you consider writing a poly141 version of the babytrap universe? Completely understand if it’s not to your interest to write, but I would love to see that story play out in your delicious writing style :)

ohh, absolutely. i think the best way to do it would be to have poor reader, desperate for a family of her own, and making the stupid decision to hand her resignation into Price.

and then admitting, shyly, that there's no man in your life, just a donor waiting for you to sign the papers and make the deposit for the procedure. thanking him for everything he's done, of course; but you're excited for this new chapter in your life.

He accepts it. Sure. Smiles tightly, and says, "good luck." Calls a meeting after to discuss it with the rest of the team. Closed door. A little unusual, but nothing that immediately raises your hackles. You're too busy cleaning up your desk to really pay much attention to hushed whispers in Price's office. Happy to celebrate, too, when Johnny invited you out for drinks after. Tae say goodbye properly, he said, and looking back, you should have seen through the faux sadness draped over his brow. Picked up on the giddy excitement buzzing around him as he led you to the bar, as he offered to get you drinks. Handed you an open bottle. Tipping it back for you to drink more. 

Keep goin’, doe. Drink ‘er up. 

Another one. Another. Your head swims. Kyle is there, hands warm on your waist, breath rippling across the sweat gathering on the nape of your neck. 

“C’mon, birdie. Have a shot with me.” He coos, bringing the glass to your lips, chest glued to your spine. “Can't believe you want a baby. Fuck, birdie, that's—”

Johnny murmurs something under his breath. You blamed the three glasses of whiskey sour (Price wouldn't let you have anything else) and a shot of tequila for why it sounded like,

hope it's mine—

To the left of you, Ghost snorts under his breath. Shifts in the stool that creaks, whining under his weight. You blink through fog seeping into your head, this strange, syrupy torpor that bleeds into the corners of your vision, makes everything feel muted, far away, and turned to him with a pout. 

He'd been acting strange ever since Price told him your plans. Quieter, somehow. But—

There. 

Everywhere. 

Your fixed shadow. Looming in the corners. 

You make to ask him what the hell he's doing, why he's following you around, but the words slosh out in a tangle. Incompressible.

Ghost huffs. His gloved hand lifts, falls to your throat, holding you steady with his thumb digging shallowly into your pulse. 

“Careful,” he mocks, dragging the word out like he was speaking to a misbehaving child. It bristles through you, but your tongue is thick. Liquid in your mouth. “Got a big night ahead o’you yet, pet. Try not t’hurt yourself before I get to knock you up.”

Distantly, you think you hear Gaz say something—oi, mate, maybe—but there's a shrill ringing in your ear that drowns it all out. A cotton spooling in your head. You blink—foolishly—and lean into his palm, mouth dropping in surprise. Shock. 

Horror. 

“Wha—?”

But it's too late, of course. What you thought were the comforting threads of a warm blanket spooling over your shoulders was the silken strands of a spider's web the whole time. Caught in their trap. 

And then you come to with a warm weight pressed against your back, a thick, hairy arm slung around your shoulders. Trapping you tight against a warm, broad chest.

“Want a baby, mm?” your captain coos in your ear, humid breath tickling your skin. Dampening it slightly as he leans in close, lips pressed to the shell—a warm, wet heat that makes you tremble—and adds: “fine, love. Since you want one so bad—” 

An arm lashes out of the shadows dancing around the room; through the heavy haze, the fog in your head (the last thing you remember is being offered a drink by Johnny, another by Kyle—), you struggle to make sense of what's happening around you as rough, dry fingers curl over your knee, prying your thighs apart: 

“—then we'll give it to you.”

You watch, dazed, dizzy, as cherryred knuckles slip down the valley of your spread legs, the ink on their thick fingers flexing, dancing, in the slip of pale moonlight until they curl into the hem of your panties, tugging the fabric roughly to the side. 

The sudden swell of cold air on your exposed cunt makes you gasp. Your knees jerking, trying to fold together to hide yourself, preserve some modicum of modesty, but the hand on your flesh tightens. Prevents you from moving. It keeps you open for their gaze. Lets them all gawk at the wide knuckles pressed against the seam of your pussy. Flushed in the low light. Dripping—

In the murk, someone groans—

“Shoulda told us sooner you wanted a fuckin’ baby, sweet’art. Woulda given you one sooner before y’had to go an’ do somethin’ so foolish—”

Foolish. Like paying for another man to put a baby inside of you when that privilege belongs to them. And them alone.

And really—

You should have known better.

[toxicanonymity]

rat in a cage.

1.2k, m!ghostface x f!reader | slasher master

A/N: This is NOT the Every Inch ghostface/universe. This is a completely standalone one shot. SUMMARY: Ghostface is pursuing you. When you both get trapped in a lab on campus, you make a temporary truce. WARNINGS: I8+ Dubcon P in V, cockwarming, degradation, choking, creampie, lab rats in the building, huddling for warmth lmaoo, reader can sit on him and be partially lifted.

Before you realized you were both trapped in the building, you got into a scuffle and caused his knife to fall down a drain in the floor. He got on top of you, pinned you with his weight, and choked you, but it wasn't a choke to kill. His gloved hand was applying just enough pressure in just the right places to feel good. That's when it hit you that he didn't want to kill you. He could've snapped you like a twig from that position if he wanted.

You smiled, and he released your throat.

“Mm,” you sighed. “take off your mask if ya wanna kiss me that bad.”

Ghostface tilted his head and looked at you. The voice modulator kicked in. “what makes you think I want that filthy mouth on me?” He grabbed your jaw and squeezed your mouth open. He brought his other gloved hand to your lips and gagged you with two gloved fingers.

"I asked you a question," he prodded.

"I 'unno" you mumbled into his fingers and reached for his crotch, trying to wedge your hand between your torsos. His fingers slid out of your mouth and his hand flew to your wrist to stop you. He pinned your hands above your head, one of his gloves wet with your saliva.

“You don't wanna kill me,” you breathed.

You seemed to have him at a loss for words. He was a different guy without his knife -- still menacing, but not lethal.

“Not tonight." He got up and left you on the ground. He swiftly made for the exit, robe trailing behind him.

But the door was locked. Awkward.

—

Now you've been trapped long enough that he’s run out of clever, taunting things to say, so he just doesn't talk. The main sound is lab rats squeaking and trying to burrow for warmth in their enclosure. It's cold in this building. You don't have sleeves and your legs are bare, too.

Ghostface sits against the wall with his knees up. You're shivering in a corner by yourself, replaying your interactions with Ghostface in your mind. Has he ever really, truly hurt you? He's had chances to kill you. Why didn't he? Your teeth start chattering.

Eventually he sighs and says "Get over here." You look at him, pondering it. He opens his arms and adds, “This offer expires in thirty seconds.”

You scurry over to him, planning to sit between his knees but he straightens his legs out so they're together, and he lifts up his robe for you to get underneath. He's wearing joggers and a matching sweatshirt underneath. You're more scantily clad. "Why don't you just give me the robe," you ask.

"Don't press your luck," he answers.

You duck under his robe and straddle his thighs with your knees on the floor. "You're gonna wanna get closer than that, little rat."

You scoot forward and he lets the robe down on top of you. It's a little heavier and warmer than you imagined. When he's chasing after you, it moves like it weighs nothing.

It's pitch black under his robe. He wraps his arms around you and hugs you into him so your crotch meets his. You gasp when you feel the shape of his warm package against your crotch. "Feel somethin’ ya like?" He asks.

"You're warm," you answer, laying your cheek on his chest with your eyes closed under his robe. "Who are you?"

His laugh is as dark as it is quiet.

You tuck your arms under your chest and he keeps his arms wrapped around you. He smells good. A woodsy, minty scent. He caresses you as he holds you. God, he feels like. . .a man. A real man. His breaths get deeper, his chest rising under you. It happens gradually, but at some point there's no mistaking the bulge you're sitting on is hard, and it's for you. He brings his arms into the robe. His gloved hands pull your skirt up over your ass with a soft grunt not caught by the voice changer. Then he takes his gloves off.

His hands are huge and warm on your bare ass cheeks. He kneads them and his hips lift under you, the swell of his hard cock making you dizzy with need under the pitch black darkness of his robe. You sigh and he wedges a finger under your pointless little thong and snaps it. You reach back to un-wedge it from your ass cheeks and when you pull it out, he slips his finger between your ass and the garment. He slides his finger all the way down, under you, until he reaches your wet little hole. You're beginning to gush.

He sighs, then the voice changer says - "You're making a mess on me, princess."

He lifts you with a grunt, then pulls his joggers down under his cock. He sets you back down, angling you strategically so your front meets his smooth, thick shaft. It's throbbing and burning hot, right between your legs. You sigh. His hands return to your ass and he moves your body, grinding you against his hard cock a few times.

Then, to your horror, you help him take it further. You pull your thong to the side as he lifts you and notches himself at your entrance. You whimper as your cunt swallows his tip, then your body spreads itself apart for him as you sink down his thick shaft. Ghostface shudders and you gasp when your bodies are flush.

“Good,” he whispers in a deep, human voice. Your body accommodates him and you get even wetter. You begin to move, needing to fuck yourself on his cock, but he holds you down and makes you still. “Sit,” he commands at full volume ghostface voice. “Stay.” The hair on your neck stands up.

You sit still on his cock.

“Good,” he says, then adds, "Hmm." He pats your head where it rests on his shoulder.

You sit there in his lap, wrapped around the body of this man, in total darkness under his robe, absolutely full of his cock. You relax enough that you begin to get sleepy. You yawn.

You sit there for what feels like an eternity. You feel stretched out, even after you relax. Your walls occasionally twitch around him, and his cock throbs and moves inside you. You’re cozy under his robe, comfortable in his arms, and throbbing on his cock. The warmth of his robe and the feeling of his arms around you lull you to sleep.

Almost as soon as you drift off, he thrusts his hips up and jolts you awake with the punch of his cock. He braces one hand on the floor and has the other arm around you. He leans back so you're held against his chest and he's fucking up into you. He grunts and sighs and the modulator harshly spits, “yeah, you're a good little bitch.”

He keeps fucking you from the bottom, and you feel a heat bubbling in the pit of your belly as his big cock pistons into you. Then he holds you tight against him and fucks you slower, grinding your pubic bone against his, and it's rubbing your clit and making you spasm. "You like that?" He asks.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes, then his voice is changed again. “Gonna make me cum if you're not careful.”

His words make you clench down as you see stars. You moan into his sweatshirt, and the pleasure pulses from your clit as your whole body jerks and your cunt chokes his cock. You're not finished coming when Ghostface holds you down.

You try to get off him, but he holds you down harder and erupts, filling you with his hot seed. You can't deny how good it feels with him pulsing inside you as your own climax wanes. At least you're alive, you think. At least Plan B exists.

When you begin to get off his cock, he doesn't let you. He keeps you plugged, impaled on him, long enough that you both fall asleep.

----

thank you for reading. my main ghostface series, unrelated to this one shot, is Every Inch.

i have a michael blurb with a kinda similar premise here. idk why i'm into this scenario but i guess i am lol.

[kisskuni]

pet names

↳ pet names that the demon brothers like to call you by. [all brothers x gn!reader]

tags: just fluff! + pet names lol. ‘doll’ is used once, i wouldn’t consider it feminine but take it as you will. otherwise gn :)

notes: first fic on this blog heheh. reblogs are super appreciated, please and thank you <3

lucifer ━━━

a gloved hand runs through black hair, the eldest brother glaring at the paperwork covering his desk. you wonder for a brief moment if he thinks the look he’s giving it will force it away.

“stressed?” you ask him, a teasing tone to your voice.

he hums in discontent. “something like that.”

you straighten from your spot leaned against the door frame and walk over to him. your hands come up to his shoulders and rub at the muscles there, hoping to bring him some sore of relief.

“need any help?” you ask.

“i’m alright, darling, but thank you.” though still clearly stressed, he offers you a small smile.

mammon ━━━

“you will not believe what i just got!”

mammon walks into your room previously unannounced, dorky smile painting his face. he holds up two slips of paper, waving them in front of your face. it takes you a moment to read the writing.

“ooh, are those tickets? for that movie i wanted to see?”

he beams at your excitement. “i’m the best.”

“yeah, you are,” you smile and reach for the tickets in his hands. “thank you so much.”

“anything for you, doll.”

leviathan ━━━

“hey, can you—“ levi speaks to you, but frowns at his game. “no, i can’t heal you. there are two other characters who can.”

you watch him curiously, watch as he rolls his eyes at the person he’s playing with. “what’s up?”

he takes one side of his headset off. “i’m sorry. can you grab me my water? it’s on my nightstand.”

“oh, sure.” you reach over from where you’re tucked comfortably into his bedsheets and grab the water bottle on his nightstand. “here.”

he turns around him his chair to grab the water bottle you toss at him. he catches it easily and smiles at you. “thank you, honey.”

satan ━━━

“are you comfy?”

you sit upright with a small yelp. you look around, gathering your thoughts back. what was supposed to be a quick lie-down on the couch in satan’s room turned into a nap, apparently.

“i- uhm. yeah.” you answer quickly. one hand comes up to rub the sleep from your eyes.

“you can rest if you’re tired, my love. i have some reading i wanted to catch up on anyway.” satan says, moving to sit beside you.

you take a deep breath and ponder the offer for a moment. instead of responding, you simply lay back down and use his lap as a pillow. he’ll get the idea eventually.

asmodeus ━━━

the squeal asmo let out was beyond exstatic. he clasped his hands together, smiling ear to ear.

“ah, i’m so excited.” he said, running off to some corner of his room.

“is it really that exciting?”

asmo frowns at you rather dramatically. he feigns a look of offense and continues to his closet, you following a few steps behind.

“oh, i love how this would look on you, cutie.”

you smile fondly at the nickname and continue to watch as he picks out various clothes for you to try on.

beelzebub ━━━

“y’know… doesn’t matter how strong i am, you’re a demon and i really don’t think i’m capable of spotting you at the gym.” you say.

you know he likes to work out, but him lifting weights worried you sometimes.

“it’s alright. i promise i’ll be fine, sweetheart.”

you glare at him. you know he will be, but a little voice in the back of your head won’t let you stop worrying about him. you suppose its a good thing.

belphegor ━━━

“good morning,” you tease, nodding toward the alarm clock that read 4:38 PM. “nice of you to rise so early.”

he grumbles at you, wiping sleep from his eye. he takes one of the pillows he’s been snuggled up with and tosses it at you, playful smile making its way onto his face.

you bat the pillow away, smiling back at him.

“you are so mean.” you claim, though still smiling.

“mhm. whatever you say, lovely.”

[syoddeye]

kinktober - day 05 - rough sex

price x f!reader | 1.3k words cw: pussy slapping, tit slapping, biting, manhandling, mean!Price, dacryphilia, choking, piv sex summary: you ask john for a favor. banner by @/cafekitsune | kinktober list

John could kill you with his bare hands. Do it in ways you could never imagine. Drag it out.

“You broken?” He asks, looking down his nose, hands tucked into his armpits.

No, but you need to be. You don’t want to be shattered glass, you want to be dust. For who you were to be scraped into a dustpan and tossed. But you don’t say that. You simply ask him to take you home. His place.

A dry forest asking for a match. A sandcastle asking for a wave.

Scorched or smothered, it doesn’t matter. Whatever gets you out of your head.

~~

John laughs, the sound rasping like a woodcarver’s knife. “Where are you running off to?”

He hauls you down the bed, uncaring that the corner of the mattress cover comes with you. He lets go of your ankle to curl his hand around your thigh, and slots a knee into the hinge of yours, pressing onto your calf. It’s a fleeting pain, only lasting long enough for him to sink his cock back inside. He swears up a storm, violently bucking further in at the halfway point. He rocks into you, fingerprints pressing with a bruising force on your hips before taking greedy handfuls of your ass.

You were afraid after a couple of rounds that fucking you would lose its novelty. It’s clear now that it’s the opposite. It’s as if he’s hellbent on making new discoveries, finding new ways to make you scream or come, and behaves like he’s the first and only man to explore your body. Possessive and unapologetic.

His cock glances over your sweet spot after a few thrusts, and your head dips toward the bed with a whimper. 

“Oh, god, fuck–”

“Therrre we go.” He chuckles low in his throat, withdrawing just enough to stroke against that sensitive spot again and again. He sets a relentless pace, thighs smacking into your own. His fingers pinch and clutch your skin, nails embedding into your hips. The sting travels to your clit, still throbbing from his palm two orgasms ago.

A hand travels up your side to the nape of your neck, pulling until you lift voluntarily. Through a glassy set of eyes, you meet his gaze, a bright blue zeroing in.

“This what you wanted? To your liking, princess?” Princess. He spits the word like he’s spoiling you. Giving you the white glove treatment.

You nod dumbly, or he guides your head for you—it’s fuzzy. But it is honest. This is what you wanted.

He releases your neck to fondle your swinging tits, grabbing and pulling them like oversized stress balls. He twists your nipples and grazes his teeth over your shoulder blades, murmuring something into the skin there. Your cheek presses into the ruined sheets, eyes squeezing shut as he slows to a grind, but flying open when he pulls out. He flips you to your back, grinning at the wild expression on your face as he hitches your legs around his waist. 

He jackhammers into you, smirking at your hands clawing at his chest and tangling in the hair. Your lip quivers, mouth falling open. Words live and die in quick bursts of breath, colliding with one another. One second, you’re babbling, and the next, you’re screaming.

He slaps your bouncing tits, then your hands when they try to interfere. He pins them over your head and leans his weight on the hold. It gives his cock a new angle to work with and a new path to carve. He drills you into the mattress with enough force that the bed creaks.

“Just what you needed, yeah? Needed to be knocked down a peg or two. Mopey brat,” he growls, his free hand cupping your chin. His fingers and thumb pinch, jerking your face forward when you try to hide. Sweat drips from his mussed hair. “No one else can do it f’ya, can they?”

He squeezes your face after a beat of silence.

“Can they?”

“N-No! Just you!”

“Just me.” John echoes. He lets go of your face with a firm tap, then your wrists, sitting back on his haunches to push your legs up again. “Hold ‘em up, yeah, good.” He mutters as you comply and tuck your fingers into the sweaty crevasses under your knees. You squeak when he momentarily diverts to nip your ankle.

You jump at the sensation of his finger running over where your cunt grips him. The corner of his lip lifts in a toothy smile.

“Squeezin’ me nice ‘n’ tight. That’s a good girl.”

He shifts again. He plants his hands on the backs of your thighs and lifts himself up, putting weight on you once more. Gravity does part of the work for him, with his thighs flexing on the upswing. His cock slips deeper, its head glancing off your cervix on the more forceful thrusts. You feel it in your ribs, and tears spring to your eyes like he’s found the only open pathway to your heart.

John coos, leaning forward, barrel chest crushing you to swipe your tears. Elbows bent and bracketing you. Voice all tender when his movements are anything but. 

“That’s it, let it out.” He urges, mouth falling open when you do. Big, fat tears roll over his fingers. He wets his lips, and his nostrils flare. He pulls back with a groan, hips stuttering, and he slows to regain his bearings. Beneath him, you reach to wipe your face, but he tuts, batting your hands away. “No, no. Leave ’em. Want you to come cryin’ on my cock, sweet girl.”

It’s different after that. Still hard and fast, every inch of him intent on leaving his mark, but a veil’s pulled back. You want to be ground into a pulp—he wants to mold you. It’s an understanding.

Harshly kneading the backs of your thighs, filth grinding from between his teeth, John’s tireless. One hand finds your clit. He taps it hard and fast until you see stars.

“Eager little cunt,” He grumbles, eyes fixed to where his cock disappears, voice low and husky. “So desperate to be fucked.”

Your hips jolt at that, pussy clenching tight around him. His thumb starts to rub incessantly, dragging you closer to the edge with every pass. Blinking through a fresh wave of tears and sniffling, you find his focus boring into you. 

“And I wouldn't have it any other way.”

You come, blubbering. Under other circumstances, with another man—you’d feel embarrassed, but with John, it feels good. He doesn’t slow, doesn’t show you an ounce of mercy when he ramps up his pace, back to that punishing rhythm. He groans as he rides the waves of your orgasm and beyond, teeth gnashing around alternating derisions and thin adulations. A single word stands out.

“Mine.”

His thumb and forefinger slot around your throat and push the underside of your jaw up, sending your overloaded brain into hysterics. Your breath turns fragile, something to work for. You hiccup and thrash, tearing at the back of his hand with your nails, and—

He floods you in a torrent, hips snapping so hard you’d shove up the bed if his weight wasn’t grounding you. His eyes roll back and close, face tilting with a groan. His thrusts turn halting into short rocks as he pumps the last of his cum in your sore, aching cunt. The wet, obscene suctioning noise echoes off the walls when he withdraws, leaving you fluttering and twitching like a crumpled bird beneath a windowsill.

John pats your thigh, then drops onto his side. He drags your quivering body close, turning it over to drape you over his sweat-slicked chest. Pushes your head until your cheek rests over his heart, drool and tears matting the hair. The combination of your spend dribbles onto his thigh. You feel satisfyingly wrung out. Exhausted, yet renewed.

A hand smooths over an ass cheek and squeezes. His rumbling voice reverberates through your body.

The words slur in your ears. In your last moments of consciousness, you’re fairly certain of what he asks. You broken?

You’ll need another go to be sure. Just need a nap first.

[shittygothbitch]

Holy shit