this is specific but pope cody being so supportive of his socially anxious, sensitive gf who’s trying to get a job :((
him sitting with you during phone calls, rubbing circles on your thighs cause he knows you hate taking them especially from unknown numbers, hearing back from jobs you’ve applied to. he tells you to put the speaker on and when you’re asked a question in which you’re unsure of how to answer, you’ll look at him like a deer in headlights, panic rising in your chest before he whispers to you what to say.
him holding you and comforting you whenever you cry after receiving another rejection. you know it’s cause of your lack of experience and basic communication skills. you hate it though. you didn’t ask to be like this. and how are you supposed to get experience if no one will hire you? you hiccup through your tears as he holds your hand, ‘i-i’m never gonna get a job, andrew!’ you’re aware of how pathetic you look. he shushes you gently, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. ‘course you will, baby.’
that same day after you tired yourself out into a nap, he goes to deran’s bar.
‘i can’t just hire her, man.’
‘why not?’ he grits out.
deran scoffs lightly, ‘does she have experience waitressing, making drinks?’
pope blinks. ‘no.’
deran looks at him pointedly at that, moving another stool to the floor. it was still afternoon, the bar not being open yet for another couple hours.
‘but she’ll learn, i know she will.’ pope insists.
deran sighs, a hand rubbing his forehead, ‘look, i can’t. i need things running smoothly here. i’m sorry.’
pope wasn’t having that, his mind flashing with you teary-eyed and hyperventilating from when he left you. he couldn’t stand seeing you upset and these job searches were bullshit. he told you you didn’t need to, that as long as you were him, you’d never have to worry for money. the sentiment touched your heart more than you could express but you told him it wasn’t about that. you just needed to do something to feel fulfilled. you knew you’d feel better about yourself as a person if you were earning your own money and actively contributing to society.
‘i’ll pay you.’ he tells deran.
deran looks at pope, trying to gauge if he was serious but when was he not?
‘you’re gonna pay me to pay your girlfriend?’
‘yes.’ he responds immediately.
(a/n: something short and sweet. what is my writing if not completely self indulgent?🫶 i’d rather get hit by a truck than answer another phone call)
just thinking about pope cody who wouldn’t care how you look or dress because he loves you how you are.
he wouldn’t care about the things you consider imperfections. in his head you don’t even have any. got some fat on your tummy? he fucking loves it, resting his head there, his cheek smushed against your supple skin while also grabbing handfuls. got razor bumps on your thighs? he’ll listen to you complain for about two seconds before nosing and kissing at the irritated patches of skin. you’ll try to pull away from him, an exasperated, ‘andy!’ leaving you but he’s holding your hips down as he continues to shower you with kisses, eventually earning a stunned giggle from you. you’re feeling insecure about yourself? at first he’ll feel like it’s a failure on his part for not showing you how much he loves you but when you assure him that it’s got nothing to do with him and that it’s more deep rooted, he’ll tell you how you’re the best thing to ever happen to him and the most beautiful girl ever. way too pretty for his league. he’ll also ask you the name of the asshole who made you feel like that. he just loves every part of you. so much so, he feels ‘love’ is an understatement. you’ve consumed every waking part of him and he sure as hell wouldn’t change you for anything <33
cw: f!reader, child birth aftermath (not gory at all, just worried!jack)
Twelve hours after your daughter is born, Jack stares at you with quiet contemplation. He’s holding your little bundle of joy in his arms, her eyes closed firmly. She’s been asleep for thirty minutes now, but you are still awake. More so, awake again.
After the seemingly endless hours of labor, you somehow still look radiant. Exhausted and tired, sure, but still beautiful. Maybe even more so.
Jack puts the little one down in her hospital bassinet and then sits at your bedside. His hands find yours, his fingers enveloping yours like you are his anchor.
He looks at you for a while, not a single word falling from his lips. His brows are knit together because the world inside his mind won’t quite quiet down.
With the softest of movements, Jack brings one of your hands up to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles.
“I don’t ever wanna put you through that again.”
His words are barely a whisper—not just for the baby’s sake, but for yours, too.
Tears shimmer in his eyes as he watches you.
All the pre-med classes he took in college, the years spent in medical school, and his long, long time working as a doctor hadn’t prepared him for seeing you go through so much pain.
He’d rather go back to the military and lose another leg than watch you suffer through contraction after contraction again.
“What?” you mumble.
Your eyes drag up to meet his.
You’re still a little clouded, just a few hours after the birth. Your brain is working hard to send as many happy hormones as possible through your blood vessels—nature’s smart little trick to convince women that childbirth isn’t half that bad.
But Jack’s mind is clear. He remembers every second of what happened, every tear he wiped, every time you squeezed his hand through the pain.
“It was terrifying,” Jack confesses. “I… you were hurting and I couldn’t- I couldn’t help you. Couldn’t make it better for you.”
A tear runs down his cheek.
“Next time,” he mumbles, “You’re either getting that epidural, or we wait until they find a way to make men carry the baby. Because I’m not making you do that again.”
| summary: frank can't sleep so he shows up at your door, but he realises you need him much more than he needs you and basically you cry in his lap and then he comforts you and…. yeahh
I authors note: first piece I'm sharing guys, I hope yall like it because I’ll be honest this whole thing is just Frank talking you through it while he fucks you because he knows you need it.
I content: fem reader, smut, p in v, sad!reader, comfort, praise kink, crying!reader, selfless!frank, pet names, sitting on lap, body worship, talking you through it, thigh riding, angst, frank only has a soft spot for you, frank comforts reader, gentle!frank, lowkey yearning!frank
I word count: 6.7k
It's past midnight, and you're wandering around the kitchen, cleaning up after a long day, your long, soft hair flowing down your shoulders as you stand on your tiptoes to open a cabinet. It seems like the world just has it in for you lately, everything's going wrong, and on top of that, you don't have anyone to talk to.
Well, there's Frank. There's always Frank. It's like he can sense when somethings wrong. At times, he knows you better than you know yourself. But Frank's- well... Frank? Yes, he's there for you but he's never there. Not physically. No, he's always caught up in a fight, always saving someone or hurting himself.
You shake your head, drying your hands on a towel lying on the counter. It's not fair for you to expect anything from him. It's not like he's yours?
There's a knock at the door. You raise your head suddenly, someone's at the door? Confused, you walk towards it, moonlight lighting up the dark hallway of your house through the glass panes on the door. You open it, looking up, and of course it's him. The same comforting, distant man you can't stop thinking about.
"Frank?" you furrow your brows softly, you didn't expect it to genuinely be him at the door. The cold breeze brushed your bare arms as you stand at the door in your shorts and camisole. His eyes flicker up and down, taking your presence in. He doesn't say anything. Still, you're a kind woman, you're understanding, and so without questioning anything you tell him softly, "Come in" with a gentle nod of your head towards inside your house. You gesture him inside, shutting the door with a click behind you. He walks in with his broad figure, hands in his pocket awkwardly as if you're the one who's showed up to his house in the middle of the night. He's looking at the floor like a child being scolded and so you ask him, "Hey, is everything okay?"
He looks up slowly at your kind face, he doesn't want to disappoint you- or for you to think less of him. "I uh-just, couldn't sleep" he finally mutters, pulling his hands out of his pockets. "Just- wanted to hear your voice I guess." His voice is low, it's as if he hasn't spoken to anyone for a while. You watch him understandingly, not an ounce of judgement in your face, and you just nod. "Come. Sit down for a bit" you tell him, walking towards your couch, your own arms crossed, a natural sort of defence mechanism- though of course, Frank has never hurt you. He'd never dare lay a hand on you.
He sits down on the couch, the whole thing moving slightly lower with his weight. You hover near him, still stood up. "Want something to drink?" you ask him softly, and he shakes his head. Leaning back on the couch, he says softly, "Nah, 's alright, just came to see you."
Of course he says that. And of course your stomach starts doing fucking backflips. You shake your head, walking into the kitchen anyway. He sits there alone for a moment, eyes following you, watching as you work your way through the kitchen like an angel, skin as soft as snow, biting your lip in concentration.
You come back with two glasses and some whiskey, placing them down with a clink. His puppy dog eyes follow your slender fingers as you let go of the glasses. They continue scanning over your body as you finally take a seat opposite him, pressing one of your knees to your chest and resting your chin there. You sigh softly as you watch him.
"Why couldn't you sleep?" you ask softly, watching him carefully.He throws his shoulders up softly, shrugging. It's not the first time he's done something like this. For years it's been obvious to you that he has a soft spot for you, but no action has ever been taken. And you curse yourself endlessly for it, but you feel something for him too-even though you can't tell what exactly. He shakes his head, grunting, "It doesn't matter, I'm used to it".
You continue watching him. Something about his presence as a whole just has a hold on you. You want to be there for him- to help him. So you ask him the only sensible thing in your head, "You wanna talk about it?" He watches you through half lidded eyes, shaking his head silently as he leans forward a little, his forearms on his legs, "Already said, just needed to see you."
You don't know what to do but nod. You breathe out a soft, "Okay" and sit there, still hugging your knee on your seat like a worried child. The truth is you're tired. Tired of begging, of trying to be there for people who clearly don't want you. Tired of being rejected and never understood. Your eyes start to wander around your living room, the warm glow from your fireplace lighting everything up, including Frank's eyes.
He tilts his head the slightest, watching your every move and of course, he knows somethings wrong. You continue sitting there, wondering what to say or what to do. You get chills from the way you can tell he's watching you closely. So why won't he just fucking say something? It's not like he has any trouble in the female department?
Except he doesn't want anyone who isn't you. Most people are shit scared of him, they think he's about to snap any moment. But not you. No, you see him for who he really is. A man in pain, who's always making mistakes to just help what he thinks is right. And you, you're kind and gentle and smart- everything that's the opposite of the world he knows.
After a few minutes of quiet besides the soft crackling of the fire, he chooses to break the silence. He can't watch you just sitting here, disassociating from everything. You're still hugging your knee, sitting in that position on the couch. Finally, he murmurs softly, "What's goin’ on?" And without really moving, your eyes flick to him and you shrug your shoulders. His heart patters softly at your dismissive tone.
He can't sit here and watch you suffer silently. Especially since you would never do that either. He frowns softly and rumbles out, "Hey, talk to me." And as if a light switch suddenly flicks in your head, you gain awareness and turn your head to him. Not entirely convincingly you tell him, "I'm okay, really." and drop your knee from beneath your chin, your feet both on the floor awkwardly.
You realise he's here because he was upset and so you look back up and ask him, "Tell me what's up then, why couldn't you sleep?" He watched you like you just spoke some foreign language and mutters, "That's not fair." You just stare at him confused.
God, why is he like this?
For some reason you're already infuriated, anger bubbling up inside you, threatening to spill out. "What do you mean that's not fair? You show up to my door past midnight and you won't even tell me what's wrong?" you spit out. Frank frowns, he hates seeing you like this, hates that he's caused you to feel like this. You see his face soften and instantly feel bad. That's the kind of effect he has on you. So you breathe out, "Look I'm sorry- I've just had a shit day." Which is a lie of course, every day is shit. Everyday that you go on, unsure of your feelings towards Frank, unsure of what you want.
He blinks slowly, giving you space, letting you get your feelings out. “Don't be sorry," he says gruff but softly, shaking his head. A quiet moment passes and he says "C'mere," gesturing to the empty space beside him. Hesitantly you get up, trudging towards him like a dog with a tail between its legs. You sit down next to him, embarrassed now that you raised your voice at him. And the worst thing is that he stayed calm, he let you yell at him. Because that's the kind of man Frank is.
You stare ahead at the floor, Frank looking at nothing but you. His eyes trace over your face, your soft hair- that little figure of yours that's so angry inside, your chest going up and down softly as you breathe. He hesitates, then parts his lips slightly and whispers, "Talk to me." You look up slowly, turning your head to face his weathered face which is full of concern for you, and you protest, "This isn't about me- you're the one who's upset."
Frank lets out a soft breath. "God you're stubborn" he huffs, and you can tell he’s genuinely annoyed. You don't say anything back and he continues watching you. "Just let me be here for you." he whispers, almost begging, like he needs to help you. Like he can't live knowing you're upset. You shake your head, voice shaking as you say, "For Christ's sake Frank, I don't need your help- I don't need you." Except you do. Your eyes begin to glisten as you ramble, threatening to start spilling tears and Frank frowns, repeating, "Hey hey, shhh" as he gently moves his calloused hand onto your forearm.
You shake your head, fighting back tears and trying to get out of his reach, "I'm fine- go away, I'm fine." You pull your arm away, voice quaking. The same way he let you shout at him, he's letting you use physical force on him. You keep spitting out that you're fine-you don't need anyone or anything, and all the while, Franks hand gently moves to the side of your face, holding it in his palm. You croak out once more with glistening eyes, "I'm fine" and then break down at his soft touch.
Tears run down your face as you shake your head, trying to stop crying. Frank watches you heartbroken, his brows are furrowed and it looks like he's only a few moments away from crying too. "Oh poor baby" he whispers, pulling you close to him, his big arms wrapping around you warmly. "Let it out, I'm here" he says, voice barely above a whisper. He wants to protect you from everything, from everything that hurts you, but he can't, and that's what bothers him. He needs you to need him.
You try wiping your tears with the back of your hand, but they continue streaming down your face. You make the mistake of looking up at Frank because as you lift your head slowly- your, big sad doe eyes break him. A soft gasp leaves his lips and he whispers, "Oh, sweet girl," as if he's in pain watching you cry. Effortlessly he pulls you onto his lap, his big hands wrapping around you as if he can shield you from the world. He tilts back his head to get a better look at you, leaning back on the couch and adjusting you to make sure you're comfy. "I know you’re hurtin’, just let it out" he breathes.
His broad chest presses against yours as he holds you, one hand on your back, the other caressing your hair. You cry your endless tears and he gently lifts your head with his hand beneath your chin. "I'm here, just talk to me, please." he says softly, eyebrows knitted together in concern. Eyes puffy and cheeks stained with tears you stutter, "God I'm just so alone. I'm so alone Frank- I don't have anyone." He looks like a sad little puppy at hearing that.
"That's not true baby, you have me" he frowns, tilting his head to get a better look at you, resting his hand on the side of your face. His other hand runs up and down your back soothingly, and you nuzzle your face into his hand. But he’s not yours, you remember. "Don't call me that Frank" you cry, pulling your head back and shaking it.
God, his heart aches watching you cry.
He watches your quivering lip, waiting for you to explain, and you glare at him, your words drowning in tears. At last, your voice breaks when you say, "Not when I'm not yours."
Oh.
He shakes his head silently, sitting up a little more and adjusting you in his lap. "Don't say that." he whispers, taken aback and heartbroken. “Just- don’t-” he mutters, unsure of what to say. He wants to be yours. God knows he does. But it's not that easy, he can't bring you into his life, because he knows that anyone he loves gets hurt.
He moves his palm across both sides of your face gently, wiping off the tears that are leaving salty, hot trails on your skin. Your voice breaks, barely holding together as you try to speak. "Frank," you cry shakily, your breath catching in broken, wet gasps. He barely blinks, just taking in this sight of you- broken and defeated. "Yeah i know, I'm here."
He doesn't bother wiping away the tears that soak his collar, he just needs to be there for you. As he holds you close and roams his hands up and down your back, you hiccup a little, your violent sobs much less now. "That's it, you're okay" he whispers sweetly, his touch gentle and caring. You sniffle in his chest as he reassures you, your stomach fluttering. Oh how you hate the way he makes you feel, as if you're not in control of your own body.
"Frank," you whisper again, breathlessly, the only remnants of your crying being your puffy eyes. "Yeah sweet girl? talk to me" he murmurs, moving a strand of hair that's stuck on your wet face behind your ear. You don't say anything, just let yourself melt back into him, your face in the crook of his neck, legs on either side of him. He lets his hands fall to your sides again, but lower this time- on your hips. He holds them with both hands, as if you'd disappear if he let go.
Your lips part slightly at his touch, you’re aching all over for him. Franks big hands stay there carefully, burning through the fabric of your shorts. Gently he rubs your sides and your breath hitches. Of course, any noise that slips out of your mouth almost kills him. His brows are furrowed as he tries to absorb every reaction you’re giving him. He needs to make you feel good. So, he takes your little gasps as a sign that it’s okay, and gently trails a hand lower, till it meets your thigh. As if his life purpose is to make you feel good, he applies a little more pressure to his touch, watching your face carefully, waiting for another reaction. Waiting for a sign that you want this too.
"This okay sweet girl?" he asks, hands tracing over your thighs reverently. You whine "mhm", leaning back into him. His lips part in awe at your little noises- he needs to hear more. You gasp softly at his hands kneading your hips then moving to your thighs. "Frankk" you whine desperately, core pressing into him a little. This is what you meant, how you can't control yourself when you're with him. He nods understandingly, whispering with his rich voice, "What is it sweet girl?”
Your head lolls to the side, brain turning into mush as your core heats up on his lap. As if doesn’t already make you lose control of your own body- he’s whispering these sweet names in your ear. You can't help it, but your hips rock forward ever so slightly, trying to satisfy that blooming need between your aching thighs.
The moment your hips move, his breath hitches. His entire body goes still as he feels that tiny movement against his lap. He senses your need, and it sends a bolt of desire through him. But he doesn't rush. Instead, his hands stay still for a second on your thighs, then slowly slide up to press against the curve of your waist. The gentle pressure of his palms keeps you right there in his arms, needy and warm. Then his voice drops lower and he whispers against your ear breathily, "Attagirl, let me know how you feel, okay?”
His sweetness is making you melt, and all of your senses are being blinded by pure need right now. You whimper desperately, almost panting as you buck your hips again and Frank says softly, “Take what you need.” You let out a small moan at that, and he realises just how much you need him. You grind your hips against his a few more times, needing to soothe the white hot ache between your legs, but nothings working and you’re getting frustrated. Your eyes begin to water again, but out of desperation now, not sadness. You throw your arms behind his neck, looking for something to hold onto and keep bucking your hips onto his, desperate for anything that will give you friction.
“Frankie,” you moan helplessly, frustrated at yourself, at not being able to feel good. He watches you reverently, as if you’re an angel on his lap, rough hands still moving gently on your sides. “I know baby, dyou need my help?” he coaxes, slipping a hand near the edge of the waistband of your shorts. When he calls you baby again, your heart clenches. He doesn't want to push, or overstep with someone as sweet as you. You lifts your head just slightly, eyes glassy and vulnerable and then nod, slow and shy, but honest, “Please, I need you”. Your eyes start watering again with need, you’ve never felt so alone- so desperate for Frank to just take care you.
“Hey, hey don’t cry doll” he coos, frowning as you pout sadly. You stare into his solemn eyes, desperately waiting for him to take action, but instead, he softly presses his forehead to yours. “I’m here, you’re not alone.” he whispers, his tone as sweet as honey. He moves his head back a little, enough to see you clearly and wipes away another one of your tears with his thumb. “You’re my girl and I’m gonna take care of you, okay?” he reassures as his hand creeps beneath your waistband now.
Of course- he’s still a gentleman with morals and so he asks with the utmost respect, “Can I take these off?” as his fingers creep under your sleep shorts, brushing past the soft lace of your panties. You all but moan, “Yes- please” in desperation, and that’s enough for him. He instructs you firmly, “Lift your hips f’me,” and carefully holds you up with one arm, the other one working at your waist, pulling your shorts down your thighs. “Can I take these off too?” he checks, his pointer finger hooked under the soft lace. You nod your head urgently and with that, the scraps of fabric are at your ankles, then discarded on the floor. He has a job to do.
His breath gets lost in his throat, mouth almost watering at the sight of you, but he tries to be as respectful as possible. “There you go doll, what else dyou need?” he asks adoringly, his hand moving to hold the back of your neck. He stares at your face, all sweet and vulnerable, and has a violent urge to kiss those soft pink lips of yours. You part your mouth to speak, but before any words can come out, Frank leans forward, and presses his lips to yours with such care, you’d think you’re made of glass.
You don’t remember your eyes shutting, just him pulling back tenderly from the kiss and your eyes opening to see his. Like you’re the most valuable thing ever, he leans back in and places a kiss beneath your ear. You gasp as he peppers your neck with soft kisses that eventually turn into hot, desperate ones when he can’t control himself. He nibbles at your neck, leaving little marks, then soothes the pain with his tongue, licking at your neck like he’s never felt a woman this sweet before. “You taste so sweet,” he groans, and the heat between your thighs aches as you sit bare on his clothed lap. Your cunt is dripping at the thought of him inside you. His fingers, his dick- anything as long as he’s in you.
You press your hips down on his lap urgently, marking his jeans with a visible wet patch where you’re sat on his thigh. Desperately you start rocking your hips back and forth, searching for the friction you so badly need. Frank groans in awe at how beautiful you are when you’re in need, and he groans, “That’s it, get yourself off on my thigh baby,” as he busies himself with kissing your neck. His hands scramble at the lace of your pyjama top, itching to pull it off. His eyes flick to your scrunched up face as you chase your pleasure, the fabric rubbing on your clit deliciously, and since you don’t protest, he helps you out of your thin top. Hastily, his manly hands search for the clasp of your bra on your back, and with a click, that’s also off and thrown to the floor.
His hands are urgently on your back, covered by your flowing hair as he runs them over your skin desperately. His eyes scan over your angelic body, skin soft and so so beautiful. He has to stop himself from kissing every square inch of your body, but he can’t help himself entirely, so he presses his face between the valley of your breasts and inhales, trying impossibly to be closer to you. Both his arms are wrapped around you protectively, helping you move back and forth to chase your high as he inhales that warm, sweet scent of your skin. He moves his head back to meet yours and pants, “That’s it dollface, keep going f’me.” You let out a lewd moan, signalling how close you are to him and he mewls softly, his dick bulging in his jeans as you ride his thigh. “That’s my girl, you’re almost there.” he praises as you continue writhing back and forth.
Your breathing’s irregular and your vision is blurry from pleasure, and fuck you’ve never needed him so badly. You squirm, so close yet so far, but when his stubble brushes your breast as his lips clasp around your nipple, you’re gone. An obscene moan leaves your mouth as you quiver on his thigh, legs twitching, mouth wide open- and then you can hear Frank praising, “There she is, that’s a good girl.” as you come down from your orgasm, his mouth still pressed to your tit as he holds your body to his. “You’re so beautiful sweetheart,” he pants, relieved that you feel good, ignoring the bulging ache in his jeans. You sigh tiredly, chest heaving as you come down from your high. “mmm thank you Frank,” you murmur, hair stuck to your forehead, eyes puffy from crying, and he answers, “Anything for you doll.”
You watch his broad figure beneath you, and find it amazing how someone this manly can be so soft with you. You love it about him. As you watch him pant selflessly, not wanting to take anything from you, you almost lunge at him. Quickly, you connect your soft lips to his own, wanting to taste his mouth properly now. His tongue slides between your mouth, your lips clashing as you try desperately to feel eachother even closer. You kiss the corner of his mouth, licking at his stubble, imagining how it’d feel between your thighs- how his warm tongue would work between your folds as you moaned, pushing his head lower in desperation. Frantically, you lean back and moan, “I need you Frankie,” as you move your hands over his shirt, on his chest. It’s not like he isn’t yearning to have you too, because he is. There’s nothing more he needs right now than to feel you sucking him in, to feel your walls flutter around him as you cum for the second time, but he needs to hear you say it.
“Use your words sweetheart, what dyou need?” he coos softly, like he’s talking to a child, rubbing your inner thighs. You fall into him, soft tits pressing into his chest as you whine. “I need you inside me- please.” you beg, and he purrs admiringly, pressing gentle kisses to the underside of your breast. “Is that it baby? You need me to take you?” he coaxes, hand cupping your breast, covering it entirely. He kneads it carefully and you moan, barely able to get out an “uh huh” at his touch. “Good girl, that wasn’t that hard was it?” he teases, tapping you on the side of your thighs, signalling for you to lift them.
As you hold your hips in the air, he undoes his belt, pulls down the zipper of his jeans and swiftly tugs them off. He nudges your hips back down and the soft flesh of your ass meets his muscly thighs again, but without clothes between you this time. Need overflows your senses and you moan as his glistening dick hits the sensitive skin of your thigh. You claw at his shirt, and the side of his mouth lifts into a smirk as he pulls it over his head effortlessly. “You’re so needy ain’t ya sweet girl?” he coos, massaging your hips, moving his hands to the roundness of your ass. “Fuck- so soft” he groans, eyes closing for a second to compose himself.
“Please, Frankiee” you wail, pressing your tits to his broad chest, your nipples like mountain peaks. “Shhh, I know” he murmurs, leaning forward and flicking his tongue under your ear. “I’m gonna take care of my girl.” he whispers into your neck, and that makes you swoon. His chunky fingers trail down between your thighs, and he runs his middle finger through your slick folds, holding it up as a string of wetness hangs from it. “Oh, you’re dripping baby,” he coos with adoration, “Don’t even need my fingers”.
He moves back, cupping your cheek with one calloused hand, the other reaching for his aching dick. He pumps it a few times, face scrunching up in desperation to enter you. His eyes flicker to yours hopelessly and his voice cracks as he says, “Let me make love to you sweetheart.” You nod, a painful need blooming in your body, your heart aching at his softness. As needy as ever, he moves your hips with care, nudging your dripping entrance with his swollen tip. You gasp at the contact, needing more, although he hasn’t even had the chance to enter you fully yet. He groans, eyes closing as he bites his lip, pushing himself deeper inside you. “Oh god- you’re so tight f’me,” he shudders, stretching you out painfully as his breath hitches.
So gently, he pushes your hips down until you sink on him fully, and he bottoms out in you with a shuddering groan. “Ahh fuck, is this okay sweetie, does it feel good?” he asks, considerate of you. You nod rapidly, eyebrows furrowed in despair, needing him to move. You moan, hips twitching, desperate for some friction. “Frankie I need you to fuck me,” you moan, hands on his chest. He growls at the way you say that, hands holding your hips as he whispers “Shit, I know baby- I’m gonna take care of this pussy so well.” You can feel yourself getting even wetter around him, if that’s even possible. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.” he reassures, pressing another wet kiss to the line of your jaw.
Slowly but surely, he does start moving. He lets out deep groans as he holds your waist, grinding you on his lap. You can’t wait, you start urging your hips back and forth faster and he tuts at you, whispering dirtily, “Oh, I didn’t know my girl was so needy f’me.” But he understands you need it- need him, and so he starts to buck his hips faster for you. He wraps his arms around you like a human shield, and with his hold on you, starts lifting you. You moan, not wanting to leave, you haven’t even had anything near enough and you can already feel his thick cock sliding out of you. But as you’re about to protest, he quickly slams you back down with urgency. A vulgar noise leaves your mouth as your skin slaps back down onto his. He groans, desperate to make you feel good, he wants to be here for you. He needs to show you you’re not alone, show you that he lov-
You gasp, head thrown back in ecstasy, you can’t think about anything but his arms around you, his breathy whispering into your ear. “Frank,” you cry, emotions pouring out of you. He’s like heaven, he’s your heaven. He feels like home, gives you stability, makes you want to live, to start a family even. You wanna be his, to give him everything and love him till you’re dead. You moan as your tits bounce up and down; Frank worshipping your body, unable to say anything with how pussy drunk he is.
He groans as you clench around him, coating him with slick as you move up and down. He feels different when he’s with you. He feels capable of- change? Capable of being soft and sweet unlike how life has treated him the last few years. He wants to love you forever. At every sound of your skin slapping, a different stage of your lives flashes past his eyes. Watching you walk down the aisle with tears in his eyes. Moving into your first home together. Remodelling your kitchen as you laugh, faces covered in paint. Having a baby together.
“I-” Frank gasps, the words he wants to say sticking his mouth together. “Fuck,” he groans, so close to the edge, “baby- fuck, I love you.” Your arms are around his neck while he makes love to you, desperately holding onto him. You’re scared you’ll drown if you let go, especially when those words leave his mouth. Your heart stops, your eyes glisten and you whine out, “I love you too Frank.” He presses gentle kisses to your neck once you say that, scared that he’ll start crying if he looks at you. He holds onto you like you’re his anchor, and finally, tilts your head so his eyes can meet yours.
“I’ve waited so long to hear you say that,” he whispers emotionally, voice breaking. “You’re my whole life baby” he tells you, every word leaving his mouth dripping with love. He helps you lay on your back on the sofa, still connected with you at the core and continues making love to you. With every thrust of his hips you moan into his neck. He pants in your ear as his chest hovers over you, and he mutters sweet nothings into your ear incoherently. You can tell he’s close because he’s not making sense anymore. “Fuck- I’m so lucky to have you baby,” he grunts, jaw clenching together as he stutters, “mm I’m so close.” Your legs are stiff too, and you realise you need to cum again. Frank sees it too and like the gentleman he is, he makes you his priority. “Oh babydoll,” he coos, moving a hand from your side to the sensitive skin between your legs. He smiles endearingly and says, “Let me see that pretty face,” as he tilts his head.
You meet his gaze, but you’re in despair, needing release. He slips his middle finger just below your dripping folds, feeling his dick slide in and out of your drenched pussy. “I’m g’na make you feel so good.” he utters, pulling his hand away from where you’re connected. Your stomach flips when he brings it to his face, spits into it and lowers it back down to your throbbing cunt. He wipes the glob onto your clit, looking up to see your screwed up face. “You okay sweet girl?” he pants and you nod urgently, trying to urge yourself closer to him as his dick tortures your gummy walls. His saliva drips down your pussy as he checks on you, but once you nod, his hand is right back to work. He moves his thumb over to your sensitive nub and starts rubbing gently.
You shudder, pleasure overflowing out of your body as he rubs your clit, his length still dragging in and out of you. You move your hands onto his back, desperate for something to hold onto, to anchor you. Frank shudders at you clawing at his back- your grasp is so desperate, it makes him feel cherished in a way he's never known. Your breath hitches as your mouth falls open, and Frank starts talking you through it, knowing you’ll fall apart any minute. “That’s it, I’m right here, let go,” he encourages while he continues rubbing quick circles. Your moans become increasingly louder, your breathing irregular and you’re on the verge of coming undone. Franks groans at the sweet sounds you make, struggling but managing to get out the words- “Fuck- I’m g’na cum.”
He hasn’t made a fuss about himself, hasn’t been doing this to make himself feel good. Never- you’re always his first priority, and tonight was about making you feel good. About showing you that you’re not alone- no, you’re cherished and loved by so many people. By him. He groans in short gasps, his breathing uneven as he reaches the edge. “Frankie- I’m so close” you whine, your hands trailing down to the nape of his neck. Your fingers are slipping through his short hair as he moans, both of you looking like a desperate, sweating mess. His cock keeps drilling into you and finally you shriek, hips bucking and thighs shaking as you come apart around his dick.
As your head falls to the side while your drenched pussy convulses around him, he groans into your hair, asking for permission as if you’re his goddess. “Doll, I’m so- mph, fuck- I’m right there,” he starts, unable to get a whole sentence out straight. “Please- umph- please let me fill you up.” he stutters, throbbing as his thrusts become sloppy. You breathe out, “Please,” into his neck and with a vulgar groan, his hips stutter and you shudder at a warmth filling you up.
There’s something about you that makes him want to be good. As he holds you like there’s no tomorrow while his hips twitch into yours, filling you, he realises how much he needs you. You’re his angel, his salvation- and there isn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for you. Not a single thing, just so he could see you smile, see you feel good. “You’re okay baby, I’m here.” he groans in ragged breaths. He caresses your tits as you both come down from your high, both of you trembling messes. Your breathing steadies slightly as he kisses you, shows you how much he cares. His spend seeps out of your pussy, which is stuffed entirely, and dribbles down his length. Franks eyes trail to where you’re connected, and with a raspy voice he says, “You look so beautiful like this baby.” The corner of his eyes crinkle as he smiles softly, rubbing soft circles on your cheek with his thumb. He adores you with his whole heart. He’s in no rush to go or to leave you. Instead, he holds your warm body close, and skims his mouth up and down your neck. Not kissing, not licking, just letting his lip brush over your skin.
He links an arm beneath you, pulling you of your back to straddle him again, still keeping you plugged with his length, all while his rough hands move to your hair and he runs his fingers through the soft, silkiness of it. “You did so good f’me doll, so good” he purrs, nudging his nose against your jaw, “My good girl.” God, everything he does is so intimate, so sensual. Doing this; for Frank anyways, isn’t about fucking. He wants to make love to you. He wants you to feel comfortable enough to fall apart right there in his lap. And fortunately, he succeeded at that, which means you did feel cherished. “Feel okay sweetheart?” he asks, holding you head with his large hand, the other running along your jawline. You nod sheepishly, cheeks flushed as he smiles at you.
“Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about baby.” he coos, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You love this about him, the fact that he’s actually taking care of you. “Feel better baby?” he asks, brushing his thumb beneath your eye, as if to catch a tear but you’re not crying. “Mhm, so full.” you whine, glancing down and he nudges your head back up, desperate to see your perfect face. “That right?” he smiles teasingly. “My girl feels all filled up?”. Your cheeks flush pink and he watches you lovingly.
“That’s how I wanna see you baby. Not sad, not talking down on yourself”. He watched you thoughtfully, tone a little more serious then before and you nod. “Okay?” he asks, and you nod, a small smile on your lips, “okay.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead as you close your eyes, and whispers, “Good girl”. As your heart flips, he leans back and says, “Let me help you clean up baby”, rubbing a hand over your thigh. You nod, knowing he’s gonna have to pull out, and after a few more gentle kisses, he helps you onto your back again, his calloused hand over your stomach as he says, “okay, you ready?” You bite your lip, nodding and he starts to pull out- a grimace on his face. As his dick pulls out with a wet pop, his load oozes out of your hole and onto the couch. “You did so good baby, I’m so proud of my girl.” he says in his raspy voice, moving away from between your legs, standing up. He watches your perfect figure lying back on the couch, and tells you, “I’ll be right back.” before walking out of the living room.
He comes back after a few moments, holding one of your shirts, a glass of water and a cloth. You smile in awe, heart aching at his attempt to give you aftercare. He leans down, sitting on his knees on the cold floor, setting the glass of water onto the coffee table with a clink. “Can I help baby?” he asks softly, holding up the cloth. You smile giddily and say, “Yes, please”, and then his paws are on your legs again and he whispers, “Spread your legs f’me sweetheart”. If he hadn’t already just fucked the life out of you, you would’ve been needy again, but instead you open your legs for him, revealing your glistening cunt. He raises the damp cloth, moving it between your thighs and starts gently rubbing at your pussy. “There you go” he whispers, one hand pushing your thigh down to have access while the other holds the cloth. Carefully he cleans you up, electricity running through you when the cloth rubs on your sensitive nub. He places the cloth to the side, not breaking eye contact as he presses the softest kiss to your clit. You shudder, still having aftershocks from your second orgasm.
“Thank you,” you whisper and smiles, placing his hands on knees, and getting up. He moves back onto the couch, pulling you close to his side and tells you, “Lift your arms for me”. You do as he says, and ever so softly, he pulls a clean shirt over your head, gently pulling your arms through the sleeves. He kisses your forehead and wraps an arm around your waist, breathing softly into your hair. A sigh of relief leaves your mouth and he whispers your name sweetly, before breathing out, “I love you”. You nuzzle your face into him as he holds you and you tell him, “I love you too.” His manly hands stroke your hair as you cuddle and he sighs in content. Somehow, he managed to change your night that started out with tears and despair into a night filled with love.
“I’m sorry you felt alone baby. But just know I’m here for you now. I’m yours, and I’d do anything and everything for you.” You listen to his deep rich voice as he holds you, trusting his every word. “Oh Frank,” you whisper, closing your eyes against him. He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against your bare shoulder.
“I’m never going anywhere again baby. You’re my life.”
idk how to explain this but does anyone else feel like they don’t have a talented bone in their body? i always need a reference or a tutorial like i can’t think on my own and it even applies for stuff that i’ve been doing for a while. this might not make any sense but i just feel like i’m average in everything i do. there’s nothing i particularly excel in and sometimes, like tonight, it gets to me :/
A/N: is this completely self indulgent? yes, yes it is but i’m hoping it can bring comfort to any of my fellow insecure girlies too <3 (also i cried like each time i went back to writing this lmfaooo, i just need him to hold me😞)
warnings: angst, (obviously) but fluffy ending ! bit of a crybaby reader, she also overthinks a lot (self indulgent, i can’t help it)
you were the type of person whose absence would go unnoticed by others. you didn’t command a room just by entering into it, rather preferring to keep your head down as to not draw attention to yourself. you weren’t confident and outgoing or smart and intuitive. you didn’t make people pause on the street upon looking at you. you just existed. quietly. so imagine your surprise when logan howlett starts to reciprocate your hidden feelings.
now logan was undoubtedly handsome. he had a certain ruggedness to him and oozed masculinity, making women drawn to him. so naturally, dating him came with having to suck up women eyeing and flirting with him. you think it wouldn’t hurt as much if you were getting the same or even a smudge of that attention from other guys (what you would give to see logan being a little jealous over you) but no one approached you. ever. you’re aware that it’s a little selfish and strange to want that whilst being in a relationship but it’s not like you’d play into their whims. you knew for a fact you’d shut it down instantly because you would never do anything to risk your relationship with logan. maybe you just wanted logan to know that you were valuable, something to be feared to lose. because when you go your whole life not having any romantic prospects, it tends to fuck with your self worth.
you often worried when you and logan went public. an incessant, vicious cycle of thoughts swarming in your mind, of people taking one look at the both of you and thinking what was he doing with her? you weren’t blind. you’d instantly notice the flirtatious looks prettier girls than you would throw in logan’s way while simultaneously disregarding you. it didn’t matter if logan didn’t pay any attention to them. you did. and it hurt like hell because it made you feel like you were wrong for being with him. that you didn’t belong by his side. you’d swallow down the lump in your throat and wait until you were alone in the darkest hours of the night to cry it out, your pillow having yet again soaking your tears. you hated it. hated how you weren’t effortlessly beautiful, hated how your mind wouldn’t shut up and just let you live. why did you have to feel like you needed to deserve being with him? or anywhere really, for that matter. it felt like your position on this earth was just completely misplaced.
now of course, you keep all this away from logan. not wanting to burden him with your feelings and in fear of sounding completely insane for being so over analytical. and of course, logan notices. you start pulling away from him slightly, your feelings of unworthiness pushing you to do so. and it hurts because loving him had never been the difficult part, it was believing that you deserved that love. it’s small things, telling him you’re tired and spending the night in your own room at the mansion, your conversations turn shorter on your end and you don’t maintain eye contact with him as much as you used to. it’s that that ticks him off.
he comes in to your room one day. it had been days of mumbled excuses, downcast eyes and a solemn, vacant look on your face. he’d decided he’d given you enough space and he was determined to get to the bottom of this.
‘‘hey.’’ he closes the door behind him.
your shoulders tense with what you knew was about to come. you dogmark the page you were on in your book before closing it and holding it against your lap.
‘‘hey…’’
he looks at you, really looks at you and you feel the overwhelming urge to shy away, feeling his eyes piercing past your own and seeing everything that was cracking beneath the surface. he lets out a sigh, his hands clenching and unclenching by his sides before sitting down on your bed, infront of your chair.
‘‘talk to me.’’ he demands, his voice softened slightly in that familiar way that was reserved for you and you only.
you find yourself at a loss of words. you knew this conversation was bound to happen but you hadn’t prepared yourself in the slightest. so you’re forced to say the most cliche response while shifting uncomfortably in your seat.
“what do you mean?’’
logan’s brow furrows and the muscle in his jaw ticks.
‘‘don’t do that.’’
you avert your gaze, your leg bouncing slightly against the floor. you’d rather the ground swallow you whole than talk about your trivial feelings. they always sounded so small and stupid once said out loud. logan can feel as well as see the anxiety radiating from you and it takes everything in him not to reach out and pull you towards him.
‘‘hey…’’ he says, his voice gentler. so gentle it makes you wanna cry. you grind your teeth together, hard.
‘‘i don’t know how to explain it.’’ you say quietly, defeatedly. he nods at that. he knows you struggle with putting your thoughts to words. he thinks for a moment before replying, “try… and i’ll do my best to make sense of it.”
you look up at him, your expression making his heart ache.
“i just… i just think you deserve better.” you finally say, your voice quieting down towards the last three words.
out of all the things you could’ve said, he never expected those words to leave your mouth. the furrow in his brow deepens. ‘you deserve better’ the words replay in his head as he stares at you, taken aback.
“what?” he’s genuinely confused by your statement. how could you possibly think he deserves better than you? you were more than he ever imagined for himself. you were sweet and kind and had a smile that could outshine an angel. he wasn’t entirely convinced that you weren’t one. he internally starts to question himself. had he not shown his love enough for you?
you risk a glance at him and you wish you hadn’t, the pit of self loathing deepening.
“i-” your bottom lip wobbles and logan can see it. he sees how tight your jaw is clenched, your eyes following an invisible, mismatched trail on the carpet to stop yourself from breaking apart. but it doesn’t work. a tear slips from your cheek and your grip on your book tightens in a desperate attempt to hold onto some control of your crumbling emotions.
logan’s expression is as transparent as can be. concern mixed with that specific ache that disperses on his heart whenever he sees you in some kind of distress.
“baby…”
your breath hitches at the pet name, your heart so visibly on your sleeve. the sentiment of being addressed so lovingly whilst in such a vulnerable state makes you cry even more.
without another word, logan gets up and walks over to you. his arms wrap around your waist and yours instinctively go around his neck as he lifts you from the chair before sitting on the bed again. he lets you hide your face in his chest, your sniffles tugging at his heart strings but it’s your next words that have him reeling.
‘‘i don’t know why you’re even with me.’’
he pulls back, gently guiding you to look at him, his brow scrunched questioningly.
“what are you talking about?” he needs to get to the root of this, to understand what’s going on in your head so he can pluck out any doubts.
you frown, not meeting his eyes again. having to explain yourself wasn’t something you enjoyed. there was too much in your head as it was for you to make sense of it, but trying to explain that jumble of thoughts to someone else? it felt gruelling.
“you know what i mean…” he didn’t. “you know i’m not… pretty.” you internally cringe at your chosen words and your inability to articulate yourself because it wasn’t just about your looks. while that did play an important part with you growing up, it was something far deeper that had been simmering since your early teen years- a constant undercurrent of self loathing. logan just looks at you, the silence stretching on a little longer than you’d like. your eyes shift nervously to his.
“tell me you’re joking” he knew you weren’t, otherwise you wouldn’t be so upset right now. he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing. your lips part and close, a response slipping away from you.
logan’s eyes soften tremendously with a pang of sadness behind them. his hand cradles your cheek, calloused thumb brushing against your skin.
‘‘you’re so beautiful.’’ the conviction in his voice has you inhaling sharply, your throat constricting. you wished you could believe him. god, you want to believe him. but that cynical, suffocating part of your brain won’t let you. if you were really so beautiful, why did it take logan months before barely acknowledging you when he first came to the mansion? he was so preoccupied with jean. jean. beautiful, powerful, jean. your mutation was no where near on her level. it was meek, something to match your personality- invisibility. the thought of logan just settling with you because he couldn’t have her wasn’t something that didn’t cross your mind in the occasional slump.
‘’hey.’’ he says, his voice cutting through your self-inflicted spiral. your eyes snap to his, blinking up at him. “what’re you thinking about?’’ your gaze lowers, shoulders visibly deflating.
‘‘nothing.’’ you mutter. before he can call you out on your bullshit, you continue.
“it’s not just my looks… it’s everything, logan.’’ you weren’t going to bring up jean but you were going to get some of this off your chest.
“i don’t like anything about myself. i just feel so… wrong.’’ your voice cracks on ‘wrong’, tears welling in your eyes again and flowing down your cheeks, the pad of logan’s thumb gently wiping them away. he was no stranger to that feeling- the feeling of inadequacy and not belonging. he had lived with it his whole life. but hearing you carry that same weight made something in his chest twist painfully.
‘‘i just want to be enough for you.’’ it’s a whispered confession but logan hears it. his thumb pauses on your cheek, the blood freezing in his veins at those eight words. you were breaking his heart and you didn’t even know it. he tilts your chin up, making you look at him.
‘‘i need you to listen to me.’’ he says, his voice stern but not unkind. “you’re more than enough for me. i’m with you because i love every part of you, including the parts you think are hard to love.”
you stare at him, mouth opening out of surprise but he continues.
‘‘you’re perfect to me. i’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, darlin’ but you make me wanna be a better man every damn day… there’s not a person i care more about than you.’’ his eyes are fixed on you, those hazel irises filled with a warm intensity. his hand returns to your cheek and you barely fight back the urge to lean into his touch.
“whatever you’re going through… it won’t change how i feel. nothing will.’’
you look at him, eyes wide with a mixture of gratitude and yearning. his own eyes were pleading and filled with a desperate need, hoping to reach you through the fog of self hatred.
“i’m sorry…” you wipe at your eyes, “i know you love me… i just… get like this some times.”
you sniffle, your lips turned downwards slightly and logan frowns in response, his thumb and forefinger gently tilting your head back towards his.
“i know, darlin’. don’t apologise. it’s just the way your brain works and there ain’t nothing wrong with it.” his other hand rubs your back soothingly as he speaks to you.
“but i want you to tell me when you’re feeling like this. don’t shut me out. i love you and i’ll tell you however many times you need me to.”
your chest feels lighter, your breaths coming out slightly more relaxed rather than in anxious bursts. he wipes away another tear and your eyes close briefly, letting his words and affection wash over you. another apology forms at the tip of your tongue but you stop yourself at the last second, knowing he probably doesn’t wanna hear that again.
‘’i love you too…” another sniffle, “i guess i’m just afraid i’m gonna lose you.’’
logan’s jaw clenches as you admit your fears to him. it’s the way you look, like you’ve already accepted a future where he isn’t yours anymore- like it’s inevitable and you’re just waiting for it to happen. his heart sinks and his arms instinctively tighten around you.
“you don’t ever have to worry about losing me. i’m not going anywhere darlin’.” he promises, pressing his forehead against yours, sealing the words in place.
you feel the security in his words, reinforced by the steady way he keeps you close. logan rests his chin on the top of your head, your body relaxing into his. the doubts don’t disappear completely, you know they won’t but in this moment they feel quieter, drowned out by logan’s unwavering embrace. you exhale softly and his arms tighten just a fraction, enough to remind you that he’s here and he’s not going anywhere.
Frank watching as you're speaking to him, really looking at you and paying full attention with those soft brown eyes of his only very occasionally flicking down to observe the way your lips move until you catch him, saying his name with a teasing smile that he can't help but lean in and kiss.
Frank with his hands resting on your hips, thumbs lightly brushing back and forth over the bare skin just above the waistline of your pants. It's innocent enough, his affectionate way, but it never fails to make your heart race.
Frank quietly opening the bedroom door in the morning to check if you're awake, handing you the cup of coffee he's brought along with a forehead kiss when you sleepily smile at him from the covers.
Frank surprising you by picking you up from a weekend trip away with a bouquet of flowers, easily swinging you around in circles in his arms, evidently enjoying your excited squeals of joy.
Frank caressing every inch of you with sure hands, knowing exactly what you need, where to touch and just how much, focused entirely on you before he expects anything for himself.
Frank being continually in awe of you, whether it's your achievements out in the world or just the two of you, he's bursting with pride.
Frank not being afraid to open up and be vulnerable, it's a work in progress but he'll feel secure enough to expose those raw nerves to you if you ask.
Frank laying the praise on thick as he fucks you, there's my girl, god damn look at you - so beautiful, attagirl...
idk how hugh jackman still has fans like i’m sorry, but he’s a terrible person who surrounds himself with terrible people. the fact that he’s friends with people like ryan reynolds and ivanka trump should say enough as it is. not to mention his partner being a racist too. logan howlett would never do the shit he does and it’s unfortunate that he’s played a character like that for over twenty years and still lacks basic morals and empathy. in general, with everything that’s come into light, i’m just so over celebrity worship. stop defending celebs like you personally know them.
Snuggling with logan in bed, having his arms wrapped warmly around you while he's half asleep. You can hear his heartbeat while your ear is pressed against his chest and it's peaceful. You're yapping about stuff and he's listening but he's also soooo sleepy and just drifting off which occasional "that sounds good, baby" and a reassuring squeeze. When you notice he hasn't said anything in awhile you look up and he's completely asleep so you press a kiss to his chin before nuzzling into his neck and drifting off yourself.
can’t stop thinking about girl dad!logan who absolutely dotes on his daughter ♡ ︎
̗̀➛ girl dad!logan who had tears in his eyes the first time he ever held her. she was so small and tiny and his that he was overwhelmed by a rush of emotions, holding her like she might disappear. from that day on, he vowed that he would do everything in his power to protect her.
̗̀➛ girl dad!logan who the word ‘no’ is more or less nonexistent in his vocabulary when it comes to her, so much so that your daughter knows to go to him whenever she wants something. it’s a problem because he doesn’t want her to end up as some spoiled brat but he also hates the way she pouts and looks at him with her big brown eyes (which she inherited from you) so he caves almost every time. the big bad wolverine completely powerless against his little girl.
̗̀➛ girl dad!logan who loves picking her up from school, his big hand dwarfing her smaller one as she chats and rambles on about her day. logan’s listening intently, nodding and asking follow up questions as they walk side by side to the pick up truck.
̗̀➛ girl dad!logan who never misses a recital or a school play. it doesn’t matter if your daughter has one line or ten, his ass is sat down in the audience, (im)patiently waiting for his little girl to take the stage. and a glare is sent in anyone’s direction who dares to speak when your daughters performing.
̗̀➛ girl dad!logan who loves and keeps every single drawing she does. your refrigerator is soon covered with papers of your daughter’s colourful scribbles, with logan carefully smoothing out each one before stepping back to admire it like it belonged in a museum.
̗̀➛ girl dad!logan who stays up all night watching hair braiding tutorials because you needed to head to work early the next day and wouldn’t have time to do your daughter’s hair. he’s got his screen brightness at the lowest setting as to not disturb your sleeping self, his eyes taking in and committing the patterns to memory. the next day, she’s sat in front of him and the focus on logan’s face is far more intense than that of a dad doing his daughter’s hair. he’s careful not to hurt her, making sure the braid is tight and secure to last all day. it’s a little messy and there’s a few hairs sticking out that didn’t make the braid but your daughters happy with it and that’s all he cares about. his face lights up when she asks him to do it again the next day.
̗̀➛ girl dad!logan who often falls asleep with her whenever it’s his days to put her to bed. the sight of your rather large husband curled up in your daughter’s small bed surrounded by pink, flowery sheets is amusing to say the least. let’s just say you’ve taken a few pics and made one of them your home screen before gently waking him up.
̗̀➛ girl dad!logan who is caught numerous times by you with mismatched clips in his hair, his claws painted with bright neon colours and his forearms adorned with stickers and he’s so unbothered by it all, only washing the paint and taking the accessories off at the end of the day.
no hate I appreciate you sharing your writing but would you consider adding a "read more" bar to your longer fics?
wait i’m so confused. i’m not sure i understand what you mean. do you mean like putting a synopsis about what it’s about first? i apologise for not understanding😅
Oh I had this problem when I first started posting on tumblr too! Could not figure that bit out! Let's see if I can help you out. Below is a screenshot of what you see when you are writing a new post.
If you look all the way to the right, there's a squiggly sandwich looking thingy. If you click on it, it will "hide" the section of your post/fic which is below where you put the squiggle sandwich, which will read as "read more". Then people will simply click on the "read more" so that they can read the whole fic. Some people prefer to not have to scroll thru the full lengths of posts/fics. It is entirely up to you however if you want to "shortcut" your posts or leave them fully visible. Don't worry about it either way, this is tumblr. Nobody really uses that feature. 🤪
no hate I appreciate you sharing your writing but would you consider adding a "read more" bar to your longer fics?
wait i’m so confused. i’m not sure i understand what you mean. do you mean like putting a synopsis about what it’s about first? i apologise for not understanding😅
to love me is to suffer me @llhowlett - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
