#welding apron

[aproncrafts]

Elevate your craftsmanship with our Farrier Leather Apron! Made from premium, durable leather, it’s designed to withstand the rigors of the forge while keeping you protected. With multiple pockets for tools and a comfortable fit, this apron is perfect for farriers, blacksmiths, and anyone who loves hands-on work. Whether you’re shaping metal or working with hooves, this apron blends functionality and style effortlessly. Gear up and forge ahead! 🛠️✨ #FarrierLife #Craftsmanship #LeatherApron

[leathervesthome]

How Does a Premium Leather Welding Apron Enhance Safety?

The thick leather material is a barrier against heat and flames, reducing the risk of burns and injuries. The apron’s design includes adjustable straps for a secure fit, ensuring it stays in place during welding tasks.

[leatherapron1]

Get Up to 40% OFF and by using this link Get Up to 50% OFF leatherapron.shop

[tazmiilly]

no fiddlefords were harmed in the making of this portal..I mean...well....maybe 1

[cowboyhorsegirl]

sorry not to make everything up to and including supernatural about stevetony but the way dean goes undercover as agent stark at one point and cas uses steve as a fake name...... i mean,,,,,,

[handicraftvilla]

Leather Welding Apron at Handicraft Villa: A Symbol of Craftsmanship and Safety in B2B Partnerships

Handicraft Villa takes extreme satisfaction in its ability to collaborate innovation with history. Our leather welding aprons, in addition to providing protection, are a reflection of our company's outstanding manufacturing and long heritage. Because each apron is handcrafted to provide high quality and unrivaled protection, they are an excellent option for business-to-business collaborations.

Exceptional Workmanship

Each leather welding apron we manufacture at Handicraft Villa suggests our commitment to quality manufacturing. Each piece benefits from our workers' extensive expertise, who ensure that every cut, stitch, and detail accurately reflects their talent. Because of this attention to detail, our aprons are beautiful works of workmanship that will last for a long time while still being functional.

Time-Honored Techniques

Our leather welding aprons are manufactured using centuries-old, refined methods. We employ methods that have been passed down over the years to honor leatherworking traditions. Every apron uses a historical method to preserve past expertise while also functioning as an effective welder's protection.

Premium Leather Selection

Our welding aprons are made from the finest quality leather available. Our aprons are designed to withstand the severe conditions of welding since each hide is hand-selected for its strength, heat resistance, and intrinsic texture. Our aprons' best leather enhances comfort and durability while providing excellent protection.

Innovative Design

Our leather welding aprons are designed with comfort and functionality in mind. Reinforced stitching and adjustable straps ensure a secure and comfortable fit. The aprons are ideal for everyday use because of the strategically placed pockets that hold essential goods. Our aprons are carefully designed to be as comfortable as possible while yet satisfying the needs of expert welders.

Unique and Distinctive

Our leather welding aprons stand out from the sea of mass-produced safety gear on the market. Each apron is unique since it is crafted by hand. Because of its uniqueness, the product appeals to discerning customers who value customized things and give great value.

Storytelling through Craftsmanship

Each leather welding apron created by Handicraft Villa tells a story of ability and passion. Every step of the production process, from selecting the best leather to the final stitch, narrates a tale of excellence and history. This story aspect lifts our aprons from ordinary safety equipment to prized possessions with significant historical significance.

Superior Protection

Our leather welding aprons are designed to provide the greatest possible protection in demanding environments. Welders may operate with confidence knowing that the thick, durable leather is resistant to heat, sparks, and spatter. The aprons completely surround the legs and torso, providing enough protection without restricting the range of motion.

Ethical and Sustainable Production

We at Handicraft Villa are committed to adopting environmentally friendly and moral production techniques. We get our leather from ethical sources and prepare and dye it in ecologically friendly ways. We adhere to the highest standards of moral business conduct by providing our artisans with safe working conditions and fair compensation. This commitment to sustainability appeals to modern consumers who desire ethical and responsible products.

Customization for Brand Identity

Because we understand the importance of a distinct brand, we provide customization options for our leather welding aprons. Companies can match their corporate logo by employing certain colors, including distinctive patterns, or adding custom inscriptions. Because of this customization, our aprons are sure to meet practical needs and serve as successful brand ambassadors.

Enhancing Retail Offerings

 Retailers who continue Handicraft Villa's leather welding aprons may provide their customers with functional items that have a rich history of manufacturing. These aprons offer a unique experience; they are more than just another product on the market. Their unique designs and outstanding manufacturing provide customers with significant reasons to choose your store above competitors.

Building Brand Loyalty

Unique and high-quality things help to build brand loyalty. Customers will link your company with quality and workmanship if they purchase a leather welding apron from your store or receive one as a corporate present. This positive relationship enhances your brand's reputation while encouraging repeat business and long-term collaborations.

Tradition of Excellence

Handicraft Villa has a long history of exceptional service. This tradition is represented in our leather welding aprons, which combine old-world workmanship with modern safety standards. When you deal with us, your company will become linked with a brand that values tradition, quality, and customer satisfaction.

Connecting with a Discerning Audience

Our leather welding aprons are designed for demanding customers that value quality and safety. Professionals who respect safety and the finer details of their equipment will be drawn to them because of their durable, long-lasting design and traditional manufacturing. These aprons will meet and exceed your expectations, whether your target market is specialized workshops or workplaces.

Crafting Narratives, Not Just Products

Handicraft Villa believes that stories, not stuff, should be produced. Every leather welding apron conveys a tale about creativity, legacy, and passion. When you offer your customers and clients our aprons, you are giving them more than just safety equipment; you are giving them a piece of history and a live example of the age-old technique of leatherwork.

Conclusion

Handicraft Villa's leather welding aprons provide exceptional manufacturing, historical significance, and guaranteed protection—the ideal relationship of history and modernity. They are an excellent choice for businesses that wish to offer unique, excellent goods that stand out from the competition. Come recognize leatherworking with us and use our amazing goods to help your business thrive.

[leatherapronshop]

Carving in Style: The Pinnacle of Leather Woodworking Apron

In the world of woodworking, where creativity meets craftsmanship, the choice of a woodworking apron is not just a matter of practicality��it's a statement of dedication and style. Among the myriad options available, the leather woodworking apron stands out as the pinnacle of craftsmanship and functionality. This article delves into the world of carving in style, exploring the features that make leather woodworking aprons the preferred choice among artisans, craftsmen, and hobbyists alike.

The Timeless Appeal of Leather Woodworking Apron

The timeless appeal of a leather woodworking apron lies in its combination of practicality, durability, and classic style. Leather woodworking apron is a craft that demands precision, creativity, and often involves handling tools and materials that can be abrasive or dirty. Here are several reasons why a leather woodworking apron maintains its enduring charm:

Durability and Protection:Leather is a durable material that can withstand the rigors of a woodworking environment. A woodworking apron crafted from high-quality leather provides a robust layer of protection against sawdust, splinters, and sharp tools. It serves as a barrier, shielding the woodworker's clothing and skin from potential damage.

Comfort and Flexibility:Leather adapts to the wearer over time, becoming more comfortable with each use. A well-fitted leather woodworking apron allows for freedom of movement, ensuring that woodworkers can bend, kneel, and move comfortably while working on their projects.

Resistance to Wear and Tear:Woodworking involves handling rough materials, tools, and surfaces. Leather's resistance to wear and tear makes it an ideal choice for an apron in this setting. It can withstand abrasions, scratches, and the general wear associated with the woodworking process.

Stylish and Timeless Aesthetic:Leather woodworking aprons exude a timeless and rugged aesthetic that appeals to both traditionalists and those with a keen sense of style. The natural grain and texture of leather add a touch of sophistication to the woodworker's attire, reflecting a commitment to craftsmanship.

Functionality and Tool Storage:Many leather woodworking aprons come equipped with multiple pockets and tool loops. This practical design allows woodworkers to keep essential tools, measuring devices, or even a notebook within easy reach. The convenience of having tools readily available enhances workflow efficiency.

Versatility Beyond Woodworking:While specifically designed for woodworking, a leather apron has versatile applications. It can be used in various crafts, DIY projects, or even in outdoor activities like grilling or barbecuing. This versatility contributes to its timeless appeal, making it a valuable accessory in different settings.

Personalization and Customization:

Leather aprons often offer the opportunity for personalization or customization. Whether through added pockets, branding, or custom stitching, woodworkers can tailor their aprons to meet their individual preferences, creating a unique and personalized workwear item.

Heritage and Tradition:

The use of leather woodworking apron carries a sense of heritage and tradition. Woodworkers often appreciate the connection to the craftsmen of the past who relied on similar protective gear. This connection to tradition adds a layer of significance to the apron.

Crafting Excellence: The Art of Leather Woodworking Aprons

A leather woodworking apron is not just an accessory; it is a work of art crafted with precision and care. Woodworking leather apronArtisans and craftsmen involved in the creation of these aprons pay meticulous attention to every detail, ensuring a seamless blend of functionality and aesthetics. From selecting the finest leather to the final stitches, each apron tells a story of dedication, skill, and the pursuit of excellence.

Features that Define Leather Woodworking Aprons

Premium Leather Quality:

The hallmark of a top-tier woodworking apron is the quality of the leather used. Full-grain or top-grain leather is often the material of choice, prized for its durability, flexibility, and ability to develop a rich patina over time. This type of leather not only provides excellent protection but also adds character to the apron as it ages.

Comfortable and Adjustable Design:

A well-crafted leather woodworking apron takes into consideration the comfort of the wearer. Adjustable straps and fastenings ensure a snug fit, allowing woodworkers to move with ease during intricate carving or detailed joinery work. The ergonomic design minimizes strain, allowing craftsmen to focus on their projects without distractions.

Functional Pockets and Tool Holders: The efficiency of a woodworking apron lies in its ability to keep essential tools within easy reach. Leather aprons often feature strategically placed pockets and tool holders, providing convenient storage for chisels, measuring tools, and other implements. This functionality not only enhances the workflow but also reflects the practicality of the apron's design.

Choosing the Right Leather Apron

Choosing the right leather aprons especially for welding, involves considering various factors to ensure it meets your specific needs for protection, comfort, and durability. Here are some key considerations: Material: Select a leather apron made from high-quality and durable material. Full-grain leather is often preferred for its natural strength and resistance to wear. It provides better protection against sparks and heat compared to lower-grade leather. Thickness: The thickness of the leather determines its level of protection. Thicker leather provides better resistance to sparks and heat. For welding, aprons in the range of 1.2 to 1.5 millimeters thickness are common, offering a good balance between protection and flexibility. Style and Design: Consider the style and design of the apron. Choose a design that covers your chest and upper body adequately, with features like a bib for added protection. Cross-back or adjustable shoulder straps can enhance comfort and stability during wear. Fastening Mechanism: Look at how the apron fastens around your body. Waist straps with buckles or ties are common options. Ensure the fastening mechanism is secure and allows for easy adjustment to achieve a comfortable fit.

Conclusion

As woodworking leather aprons enthusiasts and seasoned craftsmen embark on projects that breathe life into raw wood, the importance of a reliable and stylish woodworking apron cannot be overstated. The leather woodworking apron, with its timeless appeal, durability, and craftsmanship, stands as the pinnacle of attire for those who carve in style. Beyond the practical aspects of protection, these aprons are a symbol of the dedication and passion that define the world of woodworking—a true companion on the journey to creating wooden masterpieces.

[mistyorchid]

Meet-Cute (Ch. 3)

Old Man Logan x fem! reader

summary: You and Logan relax during a particularly hot summer day, engaging in "parallel play" together. An innocent hangout quickly gets heated after he overhears a nsfw Twitter video blaring from your phone. Goddamn auto play. Ch. 1 Ch. 2 warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, smut, established relationship, age gap, reader is 21+, oral fixation, praise kink, oral (male! receiving), light d/s, pet names (bub, baby, babe, daddy, good/dirty girl, princess), size kink, slapping (referenced + explicit), cum play. wc: 3.6k

Logan kept his promise. Well, you didn't go on a million more dates, but the time you spent together stretched the meaning of time itself. They started as singular outings; with early nights overlapping into early mornings. It didn't take long until your dates morphed into week-long "hangouts" at his place.

You willingly uprooted your life for Logan after a year of dating, packing your world into cardboard boxes and weaving it into the fabric of his home. The only thing you missed was the in-unit air conditioner that cooled your tiny apartment. It turns out that summers are unbearable when you live in a smelting plant.

The metal walls and poor insulation transform your makeshift studio into a furnace. Oil paint fumes waft upwards from the canvas, aggravating a migraine that slowly travels from the top of your head to your temples. In an attempt to preserve your sanity, you rapidly untie the paint-stained apron and storm out of the studio.

Beads of sweat trickle into your cleavage, gathering at the underwire of your bra. You tear it off somewhere between the kitchen and the living room; you can't be bothered to pick it up from the floor. Maybe Logan will stumble upon it and stash it away, an uncharacteristically pervy habit that he thinks goes unnoticed.

"I'm melting, Logan. Save me!" You slump into the couch, dramatically grazing your forehead with the back of your hand to mimic a damsel in distress. Logan lowers his newspaper to acknowledge your presence. Cigar smoke billows from his mouth; the inky tendrils momentarily fogging his glasses.

"Not much I can do, bub. Fan just died," He explains, tilting his nose towards the archaic floor fan. An annoyed grumble escapes your lips as you move to the end of the couch, relaxing your head against the armrest and stretching out like a starfish. Logan shifts the paper to one hand to lightly caress your ankle.

You stare at the ceiling, mentally conjuring metallic constellations by connecting the bolts and welds. It takes five minutes for you to snap your eyes shut in defeat. Although you normally accept boredom as a challenge—a testament to your imagination, the sweltering heat makes it difficult to think.

Logan quirks his brow, sensing your exhaustion. "You're such a baby. It's barely ninety in here." You shake his palm off your leg and draw your knees toward your stomach, creating a makeshift boundary against his feigned judgment. "Barely ninety? Don't piss me off," You laugh, reaching for your phone on the coffee table.

Parallel play is new to Logan. He tends to isolate himself, preferring to spend his leisure time alone. When you introduced the concept to him, he dismissed you with an eye roll that bordered on sassy instead of annoyed. "You getting this from your Tick-Tock-whatever the fuck?"

"Let's be alone together," You reasoned. He’s enjoyed these moments of domesticity ever since.

Your index finger lingers above the touchscreen, debating which app will distract you from the heat. The comforting feeling of Logan's hand returning to your ankle inspires you to open Twitter. Your body is slowly relaxing and you want your brain to follow suit.

Logan cherishes your laugh as you stumble upon a hilarious tweet. You scroll further, settling on a video that displays a pitch-black screen. Assuming it was an edit, you wait for a transition to reveal a montage from a show you liked, or an incredibly depressing edit of Kendall Roy. Those always seemed to invade your TikTok for-you page around 3 am.

Your jaw drops when it fades into the unmistakable sight of an amateur porn video. It depicts a woman on her knees, presumably filmed by her partner. The man slaps his cock on her tongue before slowly inching the tip into her eager mouth. "That's a good girl, drool on my cock," the faceless man praises.

The video had been relatively silent until that moment.

Nothing could have prepared you for the high-pitched moan that traveled from the girl's throat and out of your phone's speaker. You were ambushed. Logan pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and shakes his head, pointedly refusing to react to the noise. "I'm reading the paper, and you're watching porn?"

"I didn't click on it, I scrolled, I—" you threw your phone onto the couch, crossing your arms over your eyes to shield your flustered cheeks. "—Ugh! whatever." Your embarrassment provides Logan ample time to grab your phone as he quickly unlocks it and scrolls back to the source of the moan.

Auto-play resumes, suddenly filling the room with the sound of more slapping. "Please give it to me, Daddy! Promise I'll be good for you," the woman pleads in an exaggerated falsetto. Logan shoves the phone in front of your face, forcing you to acknowledge the video.

"You into this shit?" He asks, invading your mortified posture to push your arms away from your face. His knee slots in between your stretched legs, effectively caging you in. "I asked you a fuckin' question." His gruff tone would have scared you if it wasn’t accompanied by the slight upward curve of his mouth.

Logan's cock throbs as his eyes linger on your gaping mouth. You were reacting appropriately, dropping your jaw in shock. All Logan could think about was how your plush lips formed a perfect "o," similar to the woman on the screen.

"I plead the fifth," You huff, narrowing your eyes and reaching out to pause the video. Logan clicks his tongue while mocking you, shaking his head side-to-side. "It's in your feed. Doesn't that mean you are into this shit?"

Fuck. You regretted explaining social media algorithms to Logan. It was an act of charity, showing an old man how to use the "interwebs," as he first called it. He'd still have a flip phone if you didn't explain why only drug dealers and Y2K-obsessed tweens used them.

You push Logan's knee forward, making him momentarily lose his balance. He falls on top of you, the full weight of his adamantium-plated bones pressing you firmly into the couch. Logan's heart drops in his chest as he sees you shut your eyes in pain. "Oh my god, I-" He uses his elbow to twist away from your chest, landing on the floor with a comically loud thunk.

He groans with the force of the fall and immediately regrets landing on his back. The scarred planes had already been traumatized by decades of recklessness, but his old age further weakened their tenacity.

"I'm sorry, babe. You okay?" He slowly rises to his feet, grimacing when he hears his joints creak under the weight. Logan uses the edge of the coffee table to stand up fully. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," You squeak, unable to meet his worried stare. When he fell on your chest, you could feel his bulge through the thin cotton boxers.

Two can play that game.

You fail to stifle a giggle as Logan waves his hand in a sweeping motion in front of your face. "You sure I didn't hurt you? Seems like you're in shock," He asks, genuinely concerned with your well-being.

"You're hard," You state, fixated on the prominent tent in his boxers. Logan is a cocky motherfucker; he rests his hands on his hips and slightly leans backward, emphasizing the bulge.

"Yeah? So what? I’m always hard when you wear those shorts. Makes me feel like a fuckin’ teenager." He smirks, clearly enjoying the sight of your flustered face. His nostrils subtly flex and you can tell he smells how wet you are for him. It's simultaneously embarrassing and empowering unraveling for Logan—you feel so timid under the heavy weight of his gaze, yet so brazenly sensual.

“Know what I think?” You drawl, shifting from your position on the couch to stand before Logan. His broad frame would be intimidating if he weren’t so gentle with you. Only you. Sunset filters through the lace curtains you installed last summer to soften the hostile industrial space. Soft, indeed. The living room is swathed in an amber glow, and so is Logan’s face. The light tenderly traces each wrinkle and scar—decorations gifted by the tedious passing of time. Your calves burn as you rise on your toes, lips grazing the shell of his ear.

You grasp his strong shoulders to stabilize yourself before whispering, “I think you’re secretly into this, too.” Logan turns his head away from you, closing his eyes to conceal how much your words affect him. He’s confused when he feels you rake your palms against his chest, only opening his eyes when your hand catches on the waistband of his boxers.

Logan’s a man of few words. Your unabashed look of adoration combined with your position on the floor stole any he could use to disagree.

“What’s the matter, Daddy? Cat got your tongue?” You lean forward, tenderly nuzzling your cheek against his leg. 

“Jesus,” Logan mumbles, tentatively reaching down to pet the top of your head. “You’re fuckin’ filthy. Don’t call me that.” The gravel of his voice triggers a dull throbbing in your core. It was easy to unravel for him because he never demanded your submission. He earned it by respecting your mind and body, nurturing it like a fragile orchid that could wither if handled without care. 

You strain your neck to peer into his eyes. He tugs on your roots before tenderly tracing your bottom lip—a silent betrayal of his plea. “Why, you don’t like it? I’ll stop if you don’t,” You reason, allowing him to admire your plush lips. A ragged groan escapes him as he watches you suck his callused thumb into your hot mouth before releasing it with an audible pop.

“It’s not that, I just—” His words die in his throat as you pull the hem of his boxers down, tugging the elastic until you can feel his hard cock bob on your face. You gently stroke his length before pressing your cheek against it, smiling against his warmth. “I don’t wanna ruin you any more than I already have,” He chokes. The doubt written on Logan’s face kills you. You’re suddenly on your feet again and Logan’s cock can’t help but twitch at the absence of your hot breath. 

“Stop it. I hate when you say shit like that.” Logan resists the urge to clench his eyes shut. He hates it when you look at him like he’s a puzzle you’re eager to solve. “All you’ve done is give me everything I’ve ever wanted,” You sigh, reaching on your toes to burrow your head into the crook of his neck. 

Logan wallowed in self-deprecation like it was his job. The age gap between you both was a recurring theme of past arguments. He often distanced himself whenever you begged to ride him, gazing sympathetically into his eyes as you felt his thrusts falter. 

You cherished it.

He could be bandaging your knee after a bad fall in the studio and then spanking your ass until it matched the deep purple and red hues mixed on your palette. The duality drove you crazy. Logan knew exactly when to nurture you and when to fulfill your desire to be taken, worn down; he masterfully chipped away at the facade of your resolve until you were pliant in his rough embrace.

“Besides, ‘Daddy’s just a term of endearment. Same as baby, doll . . . my girl.” You whisper, teasingly nipping his earlobe. “I love being your girl.”

Logan’s hesitation breaks at that, planting a chaste kiss on your neck and inhaling the comforting scent of your hair. You smelled like home.

“Can you get on your knees for me, baby?”

The subtle command ignites a tender ache in your bones—you’re suddenly slinking down his form and bracing against the cool concrete. This must be how people felt when the first skyscraper was built. The towering mass of his body is deliciously intimidating; you’re at his feet, worshipping the foundation of an idol that refuses to be honored.

His hips jut forward as you teasingly lick the head of his cock in short, cat-like strokes. You indulge in his flesh, roaming the hard planes of his thighs and caressing the black tendrils around the base. Something in Logan breaks when you pause to gently kiss the tip while peering up at him through your fluttering lashes. 

“Give me your phone,” He commands. You were too embarrassed to admit how much you craved this side of him. Your back strains with your sudden movement to reach behind you, knocking little knick-knacks on the coffee table as you fumble for the phone. 

Logan’s cock twitches as you hurriedly unlock it before presenting it to him like a pup offering its owner a bone. “I, uh—” His voice hitches when you place your hands on your thighs; your arched back pushing the swell of your breasts against his legs. “I need you to open the camera app for me.”

A teasing smirk overpowers your once coy visage. “Sure thing, Daddy.” You strain to reach the phone, quickly swiping to find the cute camera icon. He’s purposefully not bridging the distance. 

He’s making you work for it.

Logan reverses the camera before angling it in front of your face. “Repeat what she said.” His hooded eyes follow your dumbfounded expression, lingering on the inviting expanse of your lips. You stutter as Logan’s thumb traces dizzying patterns on your open mouth, dipping in quickly to collect your spit.

“Pl- please give it to me, Daddy . . . promise I'll be good for you,” You drawl, satisfied now that you could feel Logan in your mouth. Your face is inches away from his hard cock and you can’t help but admire how fucking pretty he is. When he’s worked up like this, his cock resembles an enticing red lollipop, shiny with the glaze of your spit. The line between your internal thoughts and external babbles blurs as you murmur, “Wanna suck you off so badly. Need to taste you.” 

“What was that, bub?” He props up your chin with his finger, helping you focus on his hazel eyes. He shifts the phone into his left hand before firmly grabbing the base of his cock with his right to lightly slap your cheek. “I asked you a fuckin’ question,” He growls, snapping you out of your horny reverie.

Your voice is meek and airy, a familiar sign that you’re falling further into a comfortable haze. There were no labels to describe your relationship, but you both fostered a nurturing pattern of dominance and submission—often smudging the lines whenever necessary. At this moment, all you wanted was to surrender to him.

“I need to suck your cock, Daddy.” You smirk as it bobs almost subconsciously, leaving dribbles of precum on your cheek.

“Good girl. Fuck.” The praise lures a wanton moan out of your throat that sends pleasant vibrations throughout Logan’s body. You slowly inch the tip in, eagerly spreading his precum around the head with your tongue. Heavy, thick, and wet. So unbelievably wet.

Logan’s stifled growls encourage you to grasp the heft of his cock with both hands. You often joked that jerking him off would give you arthritis in your right hand; the stamina needed to twist up and down his length utterly exhausted you.

His eyebrows knit together in pleasure, a silent love letter to your unabashed yearning to soothe him—in mind, body, and spirit. You adore Logan like this, all bark and no bite. 

“So fuckin’ needy, hm?” You peer up at him through your lashes, focusing on the subtle twitch of his nostrils. “Just the tip and you’re already a mess,” He chuckles. Although you’ve enjoyed each other’s company for a few years, a warm blush always manages to reveal how flustered you get whenever Logan smells your arousal. The strained moans that tumble out of his throat ignite a dull throbbing sensation in your core.

Logan opens his eyes when he realizes your hands have left his cock, eager to scold you (lovingly, of course.) He thrusts into your mouth as he’s greeted by the sight of you desperately toying with your clit, pausing here and there to slap against the sensitive bud. 

You can barely think. Pleasure transforms into a tangible gift, tied off with a voluminous red bow. The pressure to open the box is removed—you’re content with admiring the details of its exterior, swirling your fingers on the silky textile and getting lost in the feeling.

“Ah—Logan! I’m gonna— fuck, I—” You stutter, unable to string together words into a sensible arrangement. Logan slowly thrusts deeper into your hot mouth, reuniting your nose with the coarse hair around the base.

He pulls back slightly when you gag around him. Your pussy flutters as you feel his cock harden at the involuntary sound, somehow stretching your mouth even more. “I know, baby,” Logan sighs, gently wiping away your tears. “Shhh . . . you can take it.”

Every time your mouth swallows his entire length, you dart your tongue out to playfully coat his heavy balls with spit. You’re acting like a bitch in heat—as if the thought of living without the taste of Logan’s cock would be futile. Realistically, you knew that the masculine salt of him on your tongue served as a reminder of his tangible presence in your life, a presence that was meaningful, nurturing, and everlasting.

“That’s a good girl. Drool on Daddy’s cock,” Logan praises, adapting the line from the video.

Your release is sudden and impactful. The shaky tone of your cries corresponds with the shakiness of Logan’s hand. His knuckles turn white as he struggles to hold the phone upright.

“Oh my god, oh my god, mmmm!—” You moan, muffled by the delicious drag of Logan’s cock. “Ah—I’m coming, fuck . . .” Your swollen clit pulses as your thighs cave inwards, pushing you even closer to the hilt.

He comes immediately following your orgasm, finding your fucked-out expression unbelievably attractive and haunting. Thick ropes of cum flood your mouth and you can feel his cock twitch when your eyes meet. A rough cacophony of moans and grunts breaks free from Logan’s chest.

You look utterly ruined. Swollen lips still stretching around his girth, tears etched onto the flustered apples of your cheeks. “As beautiful as you look right now, I need to pull out, baby.”

You’re desperately trying to taste more cum from his weeping slit, but Logan manages to push away from you with a dramatic hiss. His jaw falls when he watches you emphasize the act of swallowing his cum.

“My dirty girl,” He drawls, pleased when you stick out your tongue as proof. You want the echo of Logan’s thick cock slapping onto your tongue to be ingrained in your mind. It doesn’t take long for him to explode again. You help him along, breathlessly stroking the plush stiffness of his cock and looking up at him with sinfully soulful eyes.

The first streak lands on your lips. Logan’s head rolls back as he mindlessly ruts forward, painting your entire face with hot cum.

He returns to earth when you press chaste licks to the tip once again. “Holy shit, there’s so much cum, I’m sorry—” Logan apologizes, stunned by the masterpiece he’s created. His release drips down the sloping facade of your cheekbones before landing on your cheeks and lips. You quickly dart out your tongue to taste him.

“Don’t be, Daddy. Can you give me some more?” You plead, batting your eyelashes. Logan pauses the recording and  tosses the phone onto the couch. Before you can process why, you hear a loud thunk on the concrete.

Logan kneels in front of you to match your position on the floor. He reaches out to brush your hair away from your face, studying the white marks adorning your skin.

“You’re so pretty with my cum on your face,” He sighs. Your eyes widen when he reaches down, dragging two thick fingers through your sensitive folds. Then, he swipes the same fingers through his cum before bringing them to his lips and sucking gently.

He closes his eyes, truly indulging in the delicacy of your love. “Mmm. We taste so good together, baby. Wanna try?” You nod earnestly, biting your lip to dampen your whimpers. Logan repeats the process, in awe of the way you lean into his touch.

Logan doesn’t register that you’re falling until he’s sprawled out on the cool concrete floor with your tits cushioned against his chest. He’s quick to check on you, stunned by the sudden movement.

“You okay, princess? What happened?” Worry is framed by the wrinkles between his brows.

“Mhm, Logan. Daddy. We do taste good together,” You confirm, feeling pleasantly overwhelmed yet supported against the solid foundation of his body.

Logan kisses you sweetly, wrapping his broad arms around you to stabilize your torso. “It’s a lot cooler on the floor, baby. Gotta clean you up, I’ll be right back.” You whine as he gently rolls over to lay you on the floor before walking towards the kitchen.

After picking up a nearby towel and wetting it under the faucet, Logan almost slips on something on his way back to the living room.

The familiar heart pattern of the bra makes the corners of his mouth turn upwards; it’s satisfying knowing that you left these out for him rather than randomly forgetting a thong here and a lacey bralette there. You were deliberately feeding into his desires and he loved you for it.

You both played the game of life together, and Logan wouldn’t want it any other way.

an: I heard it's someone's bday today . . . I hope they never read this but consider Meet Cute Ch. 3 my gift to all of you. Thanks for being so patient, I know it's been a while. FYI I imagine the character whenever I'm writing, not the actor. Hope everyone has a great weekend.

tag list: @bratscave @elflutter @fairiebabey @pointyxsole @scorpiosaintt @th3mrskory

[munson-blurbs]

Hehe for since you asked for fluffy smut, what if reader has had a long day at work and Eddie maybe fixes a bubble bath and they take one together, but then it gets a lil frisky

Is this more smut than fluff? Yes. Am I apologizing for it? Nope.

Collab with @corroded-hellfire who is once again the only reason there's any fluff at all.

CW: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), roommate!Eddie, accidental boners, grinding, lots and lots of touching, mention of oral (f) WC: 1.9k

Home might have been a tiny, two-bedroom apartment that perched above the heart of Hawkins, but at the end of a long shift, it’s Heaven. 

You kick off your shoes; apparently they’re one of the most supportive brands, according to the other waitresses, but your feet still ache. 

The throbbing in your feet is nothing compared to the roaring pain that inflames your lower back. Just pressing the heel of your palms into it makes you wince and groan. 

“You okay?” Eddie calls from his room. You hear him fumbling to put away his guitar before you can even reply. 

The door swings open and he stands there, posture sagging when he sees how beaten down you look. Whatever makeup you had applied that afternoon had long faded, and the stains on your apron certainly added the finishing touch. 

Eddie, meanwhile, is refreshed—infuriatingly so. Today was his day off, and though he put in a lot of work the other six days of the week, you still yearned for the well-restedness that had him bounding over to you. 

“Bubble bath?” When you two had first moved in together, he used to try and talk to you about your day. He took it personally when you retreated to your room without glancing in his direction. But now he knew that you talk when you regain your energy. And there’s no shortage of gossip after eight hours at Benny’s. 

You nod, offering him as much of a grateful smile as you can muster. “That would be great.” You weren’t sure how you managed to find a great friend like Eddie, but you weren’t about to question it, either. 

None of the guys you’d actually dated had ever been so understanding. But Eddie…he managed to always know what you needed. 

He offers you one of his signature grins that always brighten your day and heads down the hall to the bathroom. You take off your name tag when the loud gush of the tub faucet reaches your ears and you barely have time to yank your socks off before Eddie’s back in your doorway. 

“Your spa awaits,” he says. “I would’ve prepared you some music but I don’t think any of my metal cassettes have the ambiance you’re looking for right now.”

You shake your head as you pass by him and step towards the bathroom door. 

“Not really,”  you agree. “I’ll let you know if I need it for some inspiration working out or welding or something.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and slips his hands into the back pockets of his black jeans.

“Wasn’t that Flashdance?”

“Yeah, but that music wasn’t my thing,” you admit with a shrug before you step into the bathroom. The door clicks behind you as it closes and you’re immediately shedding the stained, greasy uniform you’ve been dying to ditch all day. 

A trail of clothing is left in your wake as you step up to the tub, the bubbles fizzing and giving off a calming jasmine scent. Not wanting to scald your skin as the cherry on top of this already grueling day, you slip your hand into the water to test the temperature. It’s perfect. You don’t know how Eddie does it; he must have the magic touch. 

The water, the bubbles, the scent, it’s all too inviting. You lift one leg over the side of the tub and climb in, quickly bringing the other in as well. In your haste to start your relaxation, you slip a bit as you begin to sit down. Instinct has you catching yourself on the sides of the tub almost instantly, but it causes the collection of soap, shampoo, and conditioner bottles to tumble onto the floor in a large heap. You stare at the pile for a moment.

“Ah, I’ll deal with you later,” you decide under your breath and sink further down into the warmth waiting to heal you from your long day. 

The bubbles tickle your skin as they gradually make their way higher. They stop around your breasts and the warm water wraps itself around every achy muscle in your body. 

Suddenly, the bathroom door busts open, a frazzled Eddie charging in with wide, concerned eyes. He’s only in a Corroded Coffin t-shirt and boxers now, so maybe the loud bang woke him from a nap. 

“I-Is everything okay?” he asks as he eyes the pile of bottles on the floor.

“Oh yeah, I just knocked those over when I got in,” you explain. 

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief but the moment his eyes land on you, his body tenses up even worse than before. He’s clearly trying not to stare at you—especially your chest—but he’s failing miserably. You look down to find that your roommate has a pretty good view of the tops of your boobs. 

When you look back to Eddie, you get a pretty nice view yourself. Since he’s only wearing boxers on his lower half, his boner is quite evident. 

A smug sense of satisfaction settles over you, even seeing how uncomfortable Eddie seems to be at getting caught. But you’re not going to tease him or make him feel bad about anything. On the contrary, you’ve thought of yet another way he can help you relax. 

“Do you wanna join?” you purr. 

When Eddie looks your way you give him the most innocent, wide eyed look you can manage and flutter your lashes a few times. 

Worry blooms within you when he doesn’t immediately respond. 

Did I overstep? Is he completely freaked out? Oh my god, what if his boner was completely unrelated to me and I just assumed—

His voice, smaller than you’ve ever heard it, interrupts your thoughts. “Mhm, yeah. I mean, if that’s cool with you.”

You nod, watching as he peels off his shirt and tosses it aside, exposing the soft tendrils of hair across his chest. There’s a tattoo on one pec; you want him, need him closer so you can run your tongue over it. 

He sheds his boxers next. Though you knew he was big just from seeing the bulge behind the fabric, nothing prepared you to see him fully on display. The reddish-pink tip leaks pre-cum as the shaft bobs in desperate search for the warmth of a body. 

“Where should I…” He’s gained a bit of confidence from the way you stare unabashedly at his naked body, but he’s still hesitant to push his luck too far. 

Scooting forward, you gesture to the now empty space behind you. Nerves buzz throughout your naked body —now wet in more ways than one. 

Eddie swings a leg over the edge of the tub, getting his balance before bringing the other to join. The way he places his hands on your shoulders results in an electricity that you can only hope he feels as well. 

His lower body disappears beneath the bubbles and he lets out a relaxed groan. You lean back until your head rests on his chest, his considerable length pressing against your lower back. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers. Whether he means to speak that softly or he can’t manage anything louder, you can’t be sure. “Be careful.”

“Careful?”

He nods, lips grazing the shell of your ear. He’s so close to you, and yet he’s still too far away. “You’re so fucking tempting like this.”

You shift slightly, enough to see the blush in his cheeks that you know isn’t from the steamy bath. “Maybe I want you to be tempted.”

One tattooed arm snakes around your waist, fingers trailing upwards and stopped just shy of your breasts. 

“Don’t tease me,” he begs. “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I mean it.”

You take his hand and place it on your left breast. He whimpers, and you swear you could climax from the sound alone. 

Water sloshes around the tub as he hooks his legs around yours, gathering the stability he needs. 

“Fuck…” His hips move as he ruts up against you, desperate for relief. The way he pinches your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, starkly contrasts the gentle kisses he leaves on your shoulder blades. 

You want him. You need him. 

His other hand lays in the water and you guide it between your legs, now spread in anticipation of his touch. 

“There?” He asks as he finds your clit, rubbing it when you nod in the affirmative. 

Eddie increases his pace, fingers working in tandem to bring you pleasure. You arch your back, exposing your neck for him to bite and suck. 

“When we’re done,” he murmurs, “I want you splayed out on the bed for me. I need to see if your pussy is as pretty as I’ve imagined.”

His words awaken something within you. “Y-You imagine me…?” You start, unable to finish your sentence. 

Eddie nods. “Every time I jerk off, Sweetheart, I imagine being inside you. How you’d feel around my cock—mmph, fuck.”

“I picture you, too,” you confess. “Your fingers, or your cock, or—”

He raises a brow. “Or?”

“Or your mouth.” The admission spills from your lips. 

“Yeah? You want me to eat that pretty little pussy of yours?” Your own desire for him amps up his confidence. He’s impossibly and impressively hard, and you would do anything for him to stretch you out. 

You nod. “Please.”

“Okay, Sweetheart. Soon as we’re done here, yeah?” His breath hitches, his rutting becoming sloppier and needier as he nears orgasm. 

Bubbly waves crest over the side of the tub, drenching the bathmat and flooding the tile floor, but neither of you care. 

“Eds, little more, I’m gonna…” 

He follows your every order, your pussy clenching around nothing as he takes care of your clit. 

“Wanna make you feel good.” Eddie kisses your shoulder again. “Please let me make you feel good.”

You can only offer a moan as you come, chanting his name over and over. It’s a name you only ever dreamed about chanting so loudly; it was usually relegated to quiet whispers alone in your room. 

A new warmth, different from the bathwater, coats your lower back and drips down to your ass when Eddie finishes, the hand on your breast squeezing tight, pain and pleasure intermingling harmoniously. 

“Oh my god,” he pants. “That was…”

“Amazing.”

Eddie nods. “So fuckin’ amazing.” 

He lifts a bubble-covered hand to your chin, tilting it slightly so he can kiss you. His lips are soft but move with determination, his tongue sliding between yours. You let him in, your fingers playing with the wet tips of his hair. 

“Meant what I said about eating you out,” he mumbles into your mouth before stealing another kiss. 

Splayed out on the bed. His to ravish. The thought has you lunging for the towel hanging behind the door in an attempt to dry off. 

But when you stand, Eddie reaches out his hand and pulls you towards him, now eye-level with your pussy. “Knew she was perfect,” he says with a smirk. “Bet she tastes even better.”

The kiss he presses to your folds nearly buckled your knees. 

“You wanna find out?” He nods eagerly, and you giggle. “It might be a little lavender-y from the bath soap, though.”

Eddie shrugs. “Don’t care. Need you.”

And who are you to deny a man his needs?

--

[boydepartment]

hiiiii i would love to request a texts + scenarios where reader is dealing with things whether it be stress or sadness and tends to shy away from opening up so they won’t answer their texts for a while or try not to seem sad through texts but enha bf knows so they come over and maybe it ends from a text from reader thanking them for being there and yeah just more comfort 😭😭

1-800-143 - enhypen comfort texts + scenarios

a/n: hiii i hope you’re doing okay :( i did something similar here HOWEVER it’s really old and outdated so i made you a new one 🫶 i hope you like it

warnings- talk about insecurities, stress, food struggle mention, etc. nothing insanely graphic or triggering though

MASTERLIST

jungwon-

you looked up from your phone to see jungwon walking towards you. it was embarrassing enough to sit there in a hot apartment in a hoodie. the other members had their respective partners over for a game night and you felt insecure.

“y/nnnnn!!!” jungwon grabbed your hands and made you stand. you followed him into his room and watched as he closed the door behind you.

“are you feeling okay?” he put his hand on your head, “you feel warm baby let me get you a t shir-“

“no thank you…. i like my hoodie and your shirts are kinda thin.” you mumbled and sat down, “i don’t want to show any part of my body right now…” you mumbled thinking jungwon didn’t hear you. but he did. he sat next to you and grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it.

“it’s okay if you feel insecure right now, if you want to keep the hoodie on i will turn the air up. i’d never make you go out of your comfort zone. just know i love you and i think you’re the most attractive person ever.” he brushed some hair out of your face and smiled. you leaned into him and tried not to cry.

“i love you a lot jungwon…”

“i love you too y/n…”

heeseung-

heeseung burst in the room, “I MADE PIZZA Y/N! PLEASE DO NOT BE NAKED!” when he noted his surroundings he saw you in bed on your phone. heeseung frowned.

“didn’t you get my texts?”

you looked up, hair messy and blanket covering most of you, “no…?” your eyes were puffy and heeseungs heart broke a bit. he took off the apron and got under the covers with you.

“what’s up?” he spoke softly, grabbing your phone and setting it down.

“i don’t know… i’m just struggling a bit today…” you felt your eyes weld up with tears again and heeseung pulled you closer to him.

“i get it trust me…” he mumbled, “do you think you can eat?”

you shrugged, “i can try…”

heeseung nodded and scooped you up, “i’ll carry you.”

you nodded and leaned into him, your body was exhausted and drained for no reason and you felt awful heeseung had to take care of you like this. he set you down at the table and slid your plate over to you.

“i hope you like it… i worked hard on it…”

you looked up at heeseung to see him nervously eyeing the food, it was cute that he tried really hard to make you a nice dinner. the scene made you smile for the first time in a week.

jay-

jay stopped off at every store you liked to pick you up different snacks and easy meals. he got used to your episodes like this really quickly, they didn’t happen often but he took note everytime they did so he could be prepared. jay follows almost a step by step in his head. when he knocked he went to walk away knowing you need space but to his surprise you hugged him. you hugged him so tightly. it took jay a bit to process you hugging him.

“are you okay?”

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry i don’t deserve you.” your hands held onto him tightly.

jay held you so softly, and got you both back inside. he held you until you calmed down.

“i love you a lot. and you do deserve me, just because life gets tough sometimes that doesn’t mean i’m going anywhere okay?”

jake-

jake is not an idiot. he knew you were bad at texting when you had episodes. so he was going to take matters into his own hands, and about 30 minutes later he was knocking at your door. you answered, rightfully pissed. but there jake was standing with a smile on his face shoving the lego box in your face.

“hi baby! look!”

you deadpanned at him, “do you not check your phone?”

“um not when my baby needs me.” he picked up the takeout he must’ve picked on the way here. he got past you and sat down at the kitchen table. it was really hard to stay angry at the world when jake sim was practically bouncing in his chair about this lego set.

“i got your favorite takeout and i’ll let you have the iron man lego figure.” jake looked up at you, he did not miss the way your lips slowly curve in a smile.

sunghoon-

sunghoon as he said was still new at being a boyfriend and so this raised all the red flags. you were acting different and to be honest on his way over to your house, his hands were sweating BADLY. he took a deep breath and rang your doorbell, you answered quickly and let him in.

“sooooo um……. y/n are you okay….?” sunghoon asked quietly.

no one had asked if you had been okay in a bit and so that question made you break down immediately.

“baby…” sunghoon walked over to you and pulled you in his arms. he rubbed your back softly.

“just let it out okay? i’m here i’m right here.”

you nodded and tried to breathe properly again, “i’m sorry for trying to push you away.”

“it’s okay baby i’m here anyways….”

you looked up at him, “if this was a boyfriend test you would’ve passed.”

sunoo-

you were sleeping after a really rough day. you had cried yourself asleep and had a headache prior to that. you had fallen asleep also watching the awards show.

“Y/N?!”

you jumped up at the sound of your boyfriends voice now in your apartment.

“huh?!”

sunoo ran over to you on the couch, “i thought you were like dead or something! baby you weren’t answering.” he frowned and looked at you all bundled up. you blinked slowly looking at him.

“i’m sorry i just had a rough day and fell asleep…” you mumbled, spaced out.

“oh.” sunoo frowned again and sat down next to you, “do you want water? or anything?” he held you closer to him.

“can you just hold me for a bit?” you asked quietly.

sunoo nodded and kissed your head, “anything for you.”

riki-

you were already in a sour mood towards people, it wasn’t anything anyone specific did it was just how you felt at this moment. obviously you felt bad after snapping at riki but you just waited until he showed up to apologize to him.

he arrived really quickly and set bags on your counter, “i know when you get into moods like this you don’t want takeout. so i picked up groceries and tea.” he looked at you, “do you want to talk about it? or are you going to sit there quietly while i do the work? it’s okay if it’s the second option i don’t mind.”

and it was true, riki didn’t mind taking care of you at all. in fact he liked that he was able to.

you studied his face and suddenly felt REALLY bad.

“i-i’m- i’m sorry for snapping at you…. i didn’t mean to and i know you- you really try to take care of me and i’m sorry.” you looked down and heard riki sigh before he pulled you softly in front of him and hugged you from behind.

“i know you didn’t mean to. and i know it’s really hard sometimes to do basic human things. i get it okay? just please talk to me about this stuff…”

you flipped around and hugged him properly, “thank you…”

[generalsmemories]

How to take care of your lover (short life species) when they're sick

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: helloooo!! may i request a scenario in which jing yuan’s significant other (a short life species that isn’t a xianzhou native) has gotten sick? (jing yuan is not adept at taking care of the sick as he is a long-life species). how worried would he be? would he be ridden with thoughts of potential death?

i love ur writing btw!! - requested by anonymous

✧ contents: established relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of character death (relax, it's not as bad as it seems), spoilers for jing yuan's, blade's and dan heng's past (sorta), maybe ooc at times

✧ a/n: for humorous purposes jing yuan will have no idea what a fever is. let's say that the illnesses that xianzhou natives have to suffer are most of the time a life or death situation so the concept of a fever is practically nonexsistent for them.

"I must say general, I didn't think of you as the type to be able to take care of a short-lived species whose fallen ill at such a short notice," Welt says, eyes wandering towards March 7th whose currently sleeping peacefully on a bed inside Bailu's clinic, the trailblazer close by to watch over. And although their gaze is not on the pair behind them, Jing Yuan can tell that they too are curious. "Oh, but I don't mean this with ill intent, I'm just surprised is all," he adds on quickly, the general merely laughing at the quick explanation.

"No worries, Mr. Yang. It's an understandable surprise. Us long-life species have other health conditions to worry about that other species doesn't need to mull over and vice versa. I just happened to have a bit of experience from before, and seeing that Ms. Bailu wasn't here to personally attend to you all and I had time to spare, it was the least I could do," Jing Yuan explains, making Welt hum in question, "Pardon if this sounds rude, but might I ask where that experience comes from?"

The general laughs, shaking his head as a silent gesture to tell Welt that he doesn't mind, "Not at all, you're esteemed guests after all, telling you a bit won't harm anyone - it's not exactly a secret either," Jing Yuan starts, "I used to have a lover when I was younger that had a shorter lifespan than I is all."

There's a moment of silence, the people before him probably not expecting him to reveal something that vulnerable as easy as he did: "They often got sick because of their curious nature that didn't work well with their frail body, I was often worried sick myself," Jing Yuan reveals with a soft chuckle, and if one had a keener eye they could tell his eyes softening significantly too when reminiscing the events.

"... How long ago?" the trailblazer suddenly asks. The question catches Welt off guard, but before he could try to dismiss it Jing Yuan let's out a low noise of contemplation, "A couple of years ago. I think just before I got appointed as a general," he answers in the end.

Oh, so it was at least a couple of decades ago.

"Yingxing, I think [Name] is dying!" the craftsman almost slams the hammer down on his finger instead of the metal he's welding when the door gets kicked open, letting out a silent curse before directing his gaze towards the door with a quirked eyebrow.

"Kid, I can guarantee you that they don't wake up one day and decide that today is the perfect time to die," Yingxing points out, untying his apron as Jing Yuan begins to explain. "No you don't understand, today I went to their room to wake them up again, but they didn't answer! But I noticed that the door was not locked-"

"You went into their room without asking?"

"Yes? Anyway, they were still in bed, but they didn't even acknowledge me when I called out to them! But when I got closer, I noticed that their face was unusually red and that their whole body was warmer than usual. They were also heavily breathing, but even when they burning up they didn't let me cool them down-"

"Okay, okay. Stop, I already understand," Yingxing tries to placate the young solider, trying to move behind him to get your motionless form into his own arms, but Jing Yuan merely turns around. The action making you groan uncomfortably by the fast motion, "What are you planning on doing? Are they dying?!"

"No. They're either just running a high fever or been in contact with something unknown onboard the Luofu that their immune system haven't encountered yet, move them more than that and they're gonna puke all over the floor which I honestly do not want, so give them to me before you make them worse!" Yingxing barks out, rubbing his temples to get rid of the rising headache, "Do you long life species not suffer from a fever every now and then?"

"... Why would we?"

"Why did I even bother to ask, can you bring Dan Feng here to just look and see if it's not any serious illness? And then I can teach you how to take care of a short life species - seeing as this is your reaction," Yingxing says with a laugh, motioning at Jing Yuan's frantic state before cradling your body into his own arms.

Nonetheless, the Vidyadhara high elder was very rudely interrupted from his duties to get (willingly) dragged away by a distressed Jing Yuan.

"Jing Yuan it was just a sneeze, no need to bundle me up this much," you croak out under the amount of covers stacked upon you, a clearly worried Jing Yuan by your bedside with even more covers. "If anything you're going to crush me with how heavy these are, I don't exactly have the strength to get them off at the moment either-"

"Have you gotten weaker? Do I need to get Dan Feng again to check?"

"No- he was just here 10 minutes ago to give me some medicine again, don't go- I'm serious, Jing Yuan come back this fever is no different from the other ones, I promise!" you plead, somehow managing to grab onto the ends of his cape to make him stop, "I admit it's my fault that I stayed outside in the rain too long when it started to become windy too." you reassure him, tugging a tiny bit on the cape to make him settle on the edge of the bed, to which Jing Yuan obediently does.

"You worry too much," you mumble, tugging Jing Yuan further into the bed so he can lean against the headboard while you slowly manuever around to settle between his legs before burying your face into his stomach.

"Aren't I too warm wearing my usual clothing? Do you want me to grab something first, maybe eat something? You've barely eaten anything, Yingxing said you should at least try to stomach something when you get sick, how about I try to make the congee again before you-"

"No, just stay like this. Last time you tried to make congee you almost cut off your fingers and burned down the kitchen" you mumble, turning your head to grin up at Jing Yuan who only gives you a defeated smile, "You should really worry less. You've seen me sick a few times now and I just need a few days of rest, so just take it easy here with me," you whisper. Jing Yuan could tell that you were getting sleepy from fatigue with the way your eyelids were dropping, but even while fighting off sleep you manage to remind him of one last thing, "... If you're going to try to cook after I fall asleep, at least call Yingxing..."

"... And you call me a worrywart."

[aproncrafts]

Stay safe and stylish with our durable welding apron, designed for both professionals and hobbyists! Made from high-quality, flame-resistant materials, it offers excellent protection against sparks and heat. The adjustable straps ensure a comfortable fit, while multiple pockets provide convenient storage for your essential tools. Whether you're in the workshop or on-site, this apron combines functionality and rugged style, making it a must-have for any welder. Gear up and weld with confidence! 🔥⚒️

[heartfullofleeches]

Yan Royalty + Executioner Reader Intro

Warning: mention of injury, death

The Executioner.

A faceless blight on the nation's population. With their presence came death, and the instillment of fear in all who witnessed the of their axe. Veiled in darkness, only shadows of the very same knew the Executioner true face - welcoming them home with open arms after each slaughter. Null could pinpoint their whereabouts following the culling of those who opposed their charge, but it was rumored they dwelled in the same catacombs were prisoners were kept, and branched throughout the entire land and its walls. Servants, even hardened soldiers were quick to abandon their posts upon hearing the faintest scratches from within the stone halls.

Regardless of their locality, the Executioner always appeared when wardened to reap calamity as the phantom so many claimed.

Chaos breaks within the castle walls. A spy sent from a neighboring kindom hours away from execution had escaped, set out to finish their final mission given by their lord. Years ago, they'd been tasked with the assassination of the young heir shortly after their birth. The child was saved thanks to the watchful eye of it's protectors, but the sky's attempts would not be punishment lightly.

For the next two decades they sat in their cell, wasting away and only fed enough scraps to keep them from the brink of death - living proof of the weakness of the enemy ready for the slaughter. A proud warrior then as a sheet and stripped of any marker of the fighter they once were. Perhaps they lost that title the day they chose to take an innocent's life. Months went 0by - welding their fellow captives rotting bones into tools to pick their locks. They saved the sharpest two for the eye of the next person who entered their cell - and the future ruler of the rival kingdom.

Strengthless as they may have been, the hier was no match for their attacker's former legacy and the element of surprise. Tangled in their sheets, the heir fought and clawed to no avail much room the spy's glee. The attack was more personal than it had been in the past and they wanted the royal to suffer a fraction of the torture they endured.

Guards pounded on the doors. The royal's vision fade in and out as hands came up to their neck. Reality spiraling, their mind slipped as did their sense of the world. The walls cried, shadows melting from their purchase and crept soundlessly behind their tormentor. An eye, unblinking, watched down at them - tears of crimson following from its twin. Pulling the slender bone lodged in their socket, the shadow returned the makeshift blade to the throat of its sender.

The spy rasped, clawing at their neck and the darkness as they're dragged off the bed. The shadow steps over their body and into the moonlight - revealing a human form. Bloodied apron, thin scars and bites from victims with more fight than others, a vacant stare. The Executioner's face was as expressionless as the mask they wore except for the large hole in their ey. The royal was petrified - terror gripping their very soul. If not the spy, then surely -

"Cover your eyes."

The Executioner kneels, silent - say for the faintest breath of their lips. The royal swallows as the Executioner sweeps their thumb over their cheek - clearing it of blood.

"Y-your eye..."

"I do not need my mask within in the catacombs. I let them get away. Everything, after is my error."

"No!...no.. You... - saved me."

"Forgive me, it was not my intention. I am the axe your family welds. Nothing more. Someday soon it will be your order I follow."

The royal's heart flutters. The reaper of legend theirs to command. A fairer fantasy than they've ever dreamed. The rugged figure was as alluring as they were menacing - an angel of death soon to be in their grasp. The Executioner stood on their feet and dragged the lifeless body of the spy back to the bookshelf they exited - pressing a finger to their lips as the door breaks down and they disappear behind the wooden shelf.

"Your highness! Are you alright?!

"....Send every available medic to the catacombs - now."

[baensz]

You know. . . I used to be a normal, semi normal, Kinda normal human being. . .Then ‘Deadpool & Wolverine’ came out. . . And a pet play kink came with it! So enjoy my Poolverine/Deadclaws brainrot. (NONE OF THIS IS EDITED, SORRY FOR MISSPELLINGS OR SENTENCES THAT DON’T MAKE SENSE!)

Good boy

Rating: 17+

Warnings: Pet play, Swearing, Mild Sexual content. (Don’t like, don’t read)

Background: Logan has the ears and tail of a Wolverine. Wade and Logan are an established relationship. Logan and Wade live in an apartment together. They’ve been a thing for about a year. I think that it, enjoy!

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Nights were never good for Logan, they hadn’t been ‘good’ in years. It’s not easy for one to go through as much as he has and sleep peacefully at night. . . How could you? Knowing the people you’ve hurt, the future’s you stole, were never coming back.

Those thoughts are exactly what Logan’s night terrors emulated. It always started off the same way. . .

He’s at Xavier’s school for the gifted, with his fellow X-men, all together in the kitchen. They are all laughing having a good time, Logan is taking in everything silently before he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns to find a concerned Scott.

“What’s wrong, lo?’ He asks, placing his hand on the small of the older’s back, just above his tail.

“Nothing, just enjoying the atmosphere.” Logan replied, with a small smile.

“Are you sure? Are you sure you aren’t feeling guilty?” Scott tilted his head.

“Guilty? Why would I-“ before Logan to comprehend the question he felt a pressure against his tailbone. The pressure turned into a sharp pain as he realized that he had been stabbed. “UGhh!”

Logan’s legs gave away as he crashed to the floor, scrambling to look towards the culprit of his temporary paralysis. Logan’s eyes widen, Scott is standing above him, welding a sharp pare of blackened claws, while the rest of the X-men gather around Logan’s body.

“You should be guilty for leaving us to die!” Scott shouted. . . But it didn’t sound like the man he knew anymore. This voice was breaking, becoming more disoriented by the second. Logan’s stared in horror as the bodies of his family shifted into contorted and mutilated into the corpse’s that he had left behind.

“N-no. I, I d-didn’t mean too!” Logan pleaded as he watched the blood pour from the animated corpse’s, dancing around his body. Why wasn’t he healing? And why weren’t his claws working?

“it’s all your fault, Logan. IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!” The voices screamed in unison, clawing towards the man, tearing at his flesh while their cries of agony ring throughout the walls-

Logan shoots up from bed, claws extended and slashing through the air violently. He was drenched in sweat, his sensitive ears were still ringing from the pained cries, pinned back flat as he panted heavily.

The older blinked a few times before stilling his arms. His senses were starting to come back to him. He wasn’t on the floor of the X-Men mansion, being attacked by disfigured versions of his friends. . , he was in his bedroom, the one he shared with— Oh fuck! Wade!

Logan was quick to retract his claws as he turned to his partner’s bedside, expecting to find Wade. (Hopefully not wound.) His body tensed when he saw the empty spot.

The Wolverine jumped out of bed before his mind had time to even register he was awake, sprinting for the closed bedroom door. He didn’t care about anything other than finding Wade and making sure he was safe.

Logan swung the door open, rushing out as his claws shot out of his chuckles for a second time. He was prepared for anything. . . What he wasn’t prepared for was Wade’s confused over the shoulder glance from the stovetop in the kitchen.

“You alright, peanut?” Wade puzzled, clicking the burners heat off, before turning his attention to the clearly paranoid man. Wade was wearing his stupid ‘kiss the cook’ apron over top of his Hello Kitty pj shirt, that matched his pants. Logan examined him quickly before determining that Wade was not injured nor in danger.

“Yeah, sorry…” Logan grumbled, retracting his claws before making his way into the small kitchen. He met Wade half way, sliding his arms around the younger’s thin waist, pulling him closely as Logan captures their lips in a deep kiss.

Wade smiled into the kiss, he gently separated the two as he chuckled softly. “I’m not gonna say I’m not enjoying this, because I am, but you’re never this affectionate in the mornings. What’s got you so worked up, peanut?”

“It’s nothing, bub.” Logan grumbles. Wade tilts his head, giving the other that annoying all knowing look.

“Another nightmare?” The younger pressed softly, caressing his hand on the older’s face, smoothing out his wild facial hair. Logan’s eyes drifted from Wade’s as he nodded pitifully at the floor.

“What was it about them?” Wade ventured further. All his partner did was nod, that’s all Logan felt he could do. He wasn’t good with words, he never was.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Logan thought about it. Was there? Could he take away the nightmares? Change the past? fix everything that kept Logan from having a peaceful sleep? As far as he knew, Wade couldn’t do anything of those things, so, he simply shook his head and stepped away from his partner, moving his arms back to his side.

“Well, do you think you could help me? Maybe it’ll get your mind off it.” Wade offered, his smiled was wild and wide, yet comforting. That was a good idea. Whether Logan would ever admit that to Wade was a long shot but he could do something simple, it’s only fair.

“Yeah, what do you need?” The older asked, the two round ears on his head perking up with anticipation. Wade chuckled behind his hand as he pointed towards the cupboard above the fridge. “Can you grab the bread for me, pretty please.”

The Wolverine nodded, setting off to complete his given task, while The Deadpool turned his attention back over to the eggs in the pan. Taking the shaker out of its holder, Wade season’s the yokes, giving them a generous amount of pepper and salt. By the time he’s done, Logan is standing by his side, hand extended towards him, waiting patiently for Wade to take the loaf of bread in the bag.

The younger chuckled as he took it from the other, only to place it on the counter.

“Good boy.” Wade joked, expecting the usual reaction, an angry groan along with a tired roll of the eyes. What he wasn’t expecting was the sound of a delicate thumping against the cupboard as Logan’s face flushed a soft shade of pink.

Wade wasted no time in search for the source of the sound. . . The mercenary felt his jaw drop as his eyes fell upon the sight. Logan’s tail was wagging!!

“No, fucking, way. You like that, don’t you Wolvie?” He pressed, a mix of amusement and disbelief lingering in his tone as he mentally captured every single moment of this interaction in full detail, hopefully for future blackmail, or maybe even one for the spank bank.

“Fuck you. . .” Logan huffed, eyes refusing to meet with Wades. The older would like to believe that he knows the younger well enough to know that you should never look a Deadpool in the eyes. They can always find a way into your mind. Breaking down the walls bit by bit to expose the most vulnerable parts. . . In the most annoying way possible.

“Fuck me? Fuck you! Even your own tail says otherwise, peanut.” Wade chuckles, pointing to the obvious downfall of Logan’s argument.

The Wolverine growls, barring his fangs in a scowl as he quickly grabs hold of his tail, tucking it behind his back, down casting his head as if he should be ashamed for the situation at play.

The Deadpool does nothing but flash a dangerous smile as he advances forward, quick to capture the other, planting a firm grip on Logan’s jaw.

The older’s eyes shot up as he felt the rough hand tug his head back up. Logan swallowed back the repressed whimper as he meets the others eyes. He knows what Wade is looking for and he knows that Wade is going to find it. Logan found a familiar comfort having his emotional walls built up around him, kept him from overthinking every small feeling that hit his heart, but with the combination of the previous nights terrors and now this simple nickname, Logan could feel the walls around him tremble, pieces falling away to give Wade a peak of what was underneath.

Vulnerability. That's biology. No one is born rotten to the core or as hard as stone. . . That person is created through experience whether good or bad. Unfortunately in Logan's case the cards have never truly been in his favour and Wade can see parts of that, He just needs to weaken the walls, not until they crumble, but just enough to see the rest.

Before the Wolverine could clue in on The Deadpool's intentions he felt the mercenary's free hand snake it's way to his hidden wrist, gripping it tightly as Wade crept towards his ear.

“You’re all bark and no bite, huh?" Wade cooed playfully, strengthening his grip on the other.

"Wade. . ." Logan huffed as he winced. His hand began to pulsate due to the lack of blood, sending a chill through his spine.

"That's me" The younger smiled wildly, examining every inch of the older man's face. . . the pink flush overtaking his normal complexion along with a slight glow, probably sweat. His wet, pink lips lightly parted and coated with shinny drool from the excessive panting. Logan looked desperately for an escape. In truth if he was acting like himself at the moment, it would be a simple and rather clean escape, yet, he didn't feel like him. He felt lost in Wade’s grip, out of control and eager for a solution to this agony.

"What's wrong, puppy?" The mercenary cooed, placing the pad of his thumb against the older's tongue. "Cat got your tongue?"

The Wolverine's knees buckled under the loss of control. The walls that once were used to protect him from situations similar to this, were now bursting at the seams. One wrong movement and it's over. Wade will have won. Logan caught himself against the counter, abandoning his captive tail in the process with a whine. His pulsing hand becoming to much to keep his wild tail at bay.

"Aw. That got you, didn't it?" The Deadpool taunted. Releasing the others wrist. Logan's shot a glare at the younger. What was Wade planning? The anxiety of the uncertainty only added to Logan's breakdown.

“Wade, please. Enough…” The older mumbles his plea around the others thumb, his frustration turning into desperation. All of Logan’s instincts were screaming at him to bite down, hoping to tasted the blood of his enemy. . . But then the mercenary spoke up.

“Why not be a good boy for a change, hm?” Curiosity lacing Wade’s tone.

The Wolverine felt his chest tighten, breath hitching in the process. The Deadpool’s thumb vacated It’s space on the other tongue, basking in the glory of the older’s state.

“I-I… you can’t call me that.” Logan stated shakingly as if it was a fact.

Wade laughed, suddenly slapping away the others wrist from the counter, watching Logan’s knees give under his weight, crashing down to the tiled floor, a cry slipping from his lips, due to the sudden collapse.

“What’s stopping me, puppy?” Wade asked, tauntingly as he bent over to meet Logan’s eyes.

“M’not g-good.” The Wolverine swallowed hard, before stuttering softly. “M’ an a-animal”

The Deadpool watched as his partners ears dropped, not enough to lay flat against his head but just enough to express his insecurities.

“Who told you that, peanut?” Wade chuckled. A ping of pain hit his heart as he saw the fear cloud in Logan’s eyes. The older gave his partner a look as if trying to ask him ‘who hadn’t called him an animal?’ And then it clicked in the mercenaries head. Logan truly believed that he was nothing more than an animal. A weapon. A monster. . . Incapable and undeserving of praise. He wasn’t supposed to be the ‘good boy’, after what he did to the X-Men. . . He could never be a ‘good boy’.

“You’re not an animal, Logan.” Wade cooed. Before Logan could get a word out, Wade brought his pointer finger to his partners lips. “Shh, I’m not done.”

The older obeyed as he looked intently into the younger’s eyes, giving Wade his full attention. ‘And he didn’t consider himself a good boy’. Wade thought as he mentally rolled his eyes.

“You are the furthest thing from an animal, peanut. Sure, you’ve done some fucked up shit, but look at who you’re talking to! The king of fucking up shit!” Wade chuckled as he watched Logan’s shoulders slowly lower. It’s working!

“It’s not your fault. . . With the x-men, I mean. You didn’t know, pup. You must be mad to think what the government did was your fault.”

Something in Logan’s eye’s shifted, every muscle in his body suddenly falling. He. . . He was right. Wade. . . As much as it pained him to say it, was right. He- he didn’t know. He always kept beating himself down about how he failed to know. But never really talking in the fact that there was nothing to indicate such an attack. . . He didn’t mean to be selfish.

“I- I could’ve-“ Logan started before being cut off once more.

“Could’ve what? Saw into the future and somehow changed the outcome?” Wade questioned. Logan’s ears fell flat, his eyes downcast towards the tile, expressing every emotion in one defeated sigh.

“You are a good boy, Logan. I don’t care what you’ve done. You can be good. I know you can.” The younger soothed, tilting the older’s chin up with his two fingers. “Just let me help you.”

Wade captured Logan’s eyes. He was stunned at what he saw.

The Wolverines pupils were blown, leaving his eyes pitch black pools of vulnerability, scared and alone. Begging for safety and comfort, feeling stripped away of his dignity as his tail thumps against the floor.

“See, I told you, you’re a good boy.” The Deadpool cooed, hands cupping the others red, flustered face. A long soft whine emanated from the older, as he relaxed into the hold, his tail thumping wildly behind him as he listened to Wade’s sweet praises.

“You’re my good boy.” The younger soothes, taking in the beauty below him, wiping away the light bits of drool that threatened to fall from the older’s soft lips.

Logan felt his heart swell in his chest, because for the first time in a long time. . . He believed it. He felt safe within Wade’s grasp. The older found a comfort in the fact that the younger was seeing him in such a vulnerable state and was staying by his side. When walls fell down in the past it lead to ridicule and shame from the by stander around, keeping the Wolverine from truly believing that this side of his personality could never be loved.

Yet, here Wade was. . . Staring lovingly into Logan’s eyes, silencing every negative thought or emotion that came to the surface. If it wasn’t for the fact that the Deadpools mutation was in fact breaking the forth wall, Logan would be convinced that he was telekinetic.

Just with a simple stare he could make the older man drop to his knees. The younger’s touch keeping him grounded and the praise that fell from the merc’s mouth kept his tail thumping the same repeated rhythm against the cold, wood floor. This man had him under his control and Logan was more than willing to obey, desperate to be a good boy for his master.

“Whatcha say we go deal with this?” Wades words hung thick like taffy as his socked foot pushed against the others obvious erection. Wade felt Logan rut against his foot, whining out a muffled moan, eyes shutting as a shiver shot through his spine.

“P-please!” The older begged as he felt the younger’s foot circle around his clothed cock. Pre-cum soaking his underwear as he withered under Wades control.

“Please? Please, what, pup?” The Deadpool teases as his hands shift to the nape of the Wolverines neck, imbedding his fingers in the roots of the others hair. Logan felt his skin tingle as Wade began to pet, and scratch his scalp.

Logan felt his words slip from his mind as he huffed out soft noises, hoping and praying that Wade could simply read his mind. Take him to the bedroom and fuck him so hard into the mattress that he’ll need to literally crawl out of bed in the morning.

“Come on puppy, I thought you were my good boy. . .” Wade tsked as his foot ceased it’s motion. Logan cried out in desperation as he thrusted his hips against the still foot, begging for friction. Logan opened his eyes once again, heart dropping once he met Wade’s gaze. Tears welling up at the disappointment in Wade’s sight, his tail stopping at the realization before tucking between his legs in shame.

"Aw, no need for tears, cupcake. Talking is hard right now, huh big guy?" Wade soothed, moving his hands through the older man's hair, scratching the most sensitive spots with gentle hands. The Wolverine whimpered as he nodded pitifully, leaning into the warm hands of the Deadpool.

"That's okay, I know what you need." the younger slurred, toned heavy with lust, drawing the older even closer as his hands dropped from Logan's wild hair, earning Wade a sharp whine in protest.

"I think a good boy like you deserves a treat." Wade chuckled to himself as the sound of a light thumping could be heard once more. "What do you think, pup?"

Logan nodded eagerly up at Wade, eyes fixated upon the younger, awaiting his next command with excitement.

"Good boy. Head to the bedroom, I'll be there in a sec." Wade praised, roughing up Logan's hair. The Wolverine huffed as he rose from his kneeling position, tail continually wagging as he made his way towards the bedroom, a small pep in his step. The Deadpool smirking as he watched the other comply, seemingly excited for what was to come.

Wade strides towards the bedroom, his hand gripping the handle tightly. His body tenses as he eyes the fourth wall.

“Sorry for the cock block.” The merc chuckles as he slams the door shut. Leaving the reader questioning what could be happening behind that door.

[soracities]

"You were welding something. You wore a leather apron and apart from that a pair of shorts. In front of your face was a dark metal shield.

When you emerged from behind it, you were wearing a black patch over your right eye, and your face was screwed up as if in pain.

Is your eye hurt? I asked.

It’s inflamed, you replied, and I had to go to the hospital. It happens with this—and you held up the welder.

You were wearing heavy leather boots without socks and with their laces undone.

Where are you from? you asked me.

I told you and explained how a guy in the petrol station, seeing I was taking this road that nobody takes, had asked me to deliver the battery.

You looked me up and down and murmured, thank you.

How long do you have to keep the patch on your eye? I asked.

Until I find gold! you said.

Then, smiling, you slowly strode towards me and took it off."

John Berger, From A to X: A Story in Letters

[scraps-stark]

"You could start on the dishes."

*Scraps muttered jokingly*

"Unless that pretty little head of yours has a better idea."

*he stirred the skillet again and backed away from the stove, leaning against the back counter as he took a long drag from his cigarette before blowing out the smoke, checking the pet cameras to make sure Jeff and Lemonchello were behaving. He slips his phone and the cigarette case back into his side pants pocket*

*Scraps is currently at his workbench, listening to music as he is working* *Pyxis had gotten over all the information he needed to start working on the project Nod asked of him* *He'd already gathered all the supplies the moment it had texted him, already determined on making these the best wings he could.* *he had a soft spot for kids, sue him. He was an uncle. And he knew what it was like to have the very things that made you... well yourself, ripped away from you. There was no way in hell he was going to charge for these, either.* *so there he sat, working away as he soldered wires to their boards, occasionally checking his work to ensure he didn't need to fix anything before continuing* *Jeff and Lemonchello were downstairs, his entire shop currently opened up and being ventilated as he worked so none of the fumes reached the animals playing and watching TV together*