𝒿𝑒𝓈𝓈 𓏲ּ𝄢

you shook your head, looking down to hide your little smile, while he laughed softly to himself. after that, it became something he noticed all the time.

whenever the two of you were sitting together, he'd catch himself watching you instead of whatever movie or show was playing in the background. if you looked over and caught him, he'd never look away. he'd just smile that pretty smile that made your stomach flip every single time. "why are you looking at me like that?"

"'cause i love looking at you, duh" he said so casually.

"you're making me feel nervous, john." you barely got out as you became flustered.

"good thing i'm not planning on stopping."

there was one specific evening, the two of you were curled up on his bed after dinner, your head resting against his shoulder while he played with your hand, the tips of fingers running over your freshly done nails. you looked up to tell him something, only to find him already looking down at you.

not saying anything. just..looking. his thumb kept slowly rubbing over the back of your hand while his eyes stayed on yours. he seemed so serious about it too.

"what is it?" you whispered.

he smiled widely. "nothin, baby'."

"then why are you staring at me?"

he shrugged a little, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "because i missed you today. like a lot. i literally could not stop thinking about you for even a minute."

you felt your heart melt, this boy literally had you down bad for him, "you saw me this morning."

"yeah," he murmured, still smiling, "and then i had to wait a six whole hours to see you again."

you laughed quietly, shaking your head. "you're literally so dramatic."

he reached up, gently tilting your chin with two fingers when you instinctively looked away again. his finger traced your cheek, he mumbled under his breath quietly, “so fucking pretty.”

your eyes slowly found his once more. you tried so hard to keep looking at him, but after a few seconds you couldn't help smiling and dropping your gaze again.

he laughed under his breath before leaning down to press the softest kiss against your forehead.

"you know," he whispered, "one day you're actually gonna look at me for longer than five seconds."

you smiled into his hoodie. "don't get your hopes up, johnny."

he wrapped both arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer until your cheek was tucked against his chest. "i've got forever to wait, sweetheart."

~ ~ ~

he sighs softly before closing both of your textbooks. "garrett.."

"nope." he's already standing, shoving everything into his backpack. "we're leaving."

"i have to study," you protest. you really did. otherwise your whole schedule would be thrown off and it would mess you up.

"and you're gonna study better after you've slept for twelve hours." you cross your arms. "you're so bossy."

he flashes you one of those effortless smiles that always makes it impossible to stay annoyed. "only because i reallyyy like you."

~

by the time you get back to your apartment, he's practically taken over. he's opening cupboards looking for soup, muttering to himself when he can't find any, before grabbing his keys.

"where are you going, baby?" he looks your way once before grabbing putting on his shows. "grocery store."

"garrett, you don't have to—"

"baby." he walks back over, gently cupping your face between both hands. his thumbs brush softly over your warm cheeks as his smile turns into something much gentler. "let me take care of you. the way you always take care of me." the way he says it makes your heart flutter. not even because he's trying to be dramatic. because he genuinely means it.

~

about a half hour later, he's back with two grocery bags balanced in one arm and a paper bag from your favorite bakery tucked beneath the other.

"they had those chocolate muffins you like." you smile sleepily from beneath the blanket. "i'm so sick."

he smiles sarcastically replying, "oh yeah, i know." you roll your eyes playfully at him. he starts unpacking everything onto the counter. "you being sick doesn't mean you stop liking blueberry muffins."

while the soup sits on the stove, he quietly moves around your apartment cleaning little things without saying a word. he folds the blanket you'd left crumpled over the arm of the couch. waters the tiny plant on your windowsill because he'd noticed the soil looked dry. when you ask what he's doing, he simply shrugs.

“nothing baby. go to bed, please.”

~

later that evening, the two of you are curled up on the couch watching some terrible reality show he'd insisted would make you laugh. every few minutes he glances away from the tv to check on you. "you warm baby?."

you nod, leaning into him more if possible. "want another blanket?"

"garrett.." you say with no intention, staring up at him quietly.

"yeah?" he asks while playing with a strand of your hair. "i already have three." he grins, trying not to laugh. "could make it four."

you can't even force yourself to laugh. "you're so ridiculous." his eyes light up immediately. "there she is."

you tilt your head. "what?"

"that's the first real emotion i've gotten out of you all day." he smiles to himself like he's just won the lottery, even though to him you mean more. "worth it."

~

at some point your head slowly droops onto his shoulder. he smiles down at you. god, you looked so adorable even when you were sick. his eyes soften as he continues glancing at you, watching your eyelids grow heavier with every passing second.

without saying anything, he carefully shifts so you're lying more comfortably against him before reaching for the blanket pooled at your feet and pulling it up around your shoulders.

his fingers brush through your hair. slow and gentle, the way he was only with you. you sigh quietly in your sleep, snuggling a little closer.

garrett's smile only grows. "comfortable?" he whispers. you don't answer, instead, your hand finds his without even waking up, your fingers lazily curling around his.

his heart feels like its gonna explode. he looks down at your intertwined hands and lets out the smallest, most lovesick laugh. he murmurs mostly to himself. "i'm definitely not going anywhere."

JOHN LOGAN...

john logan realizes something is wrong the second you pick up the phone. it’s not even what you say. it’s how quiet everything is around you.

normally, when he calls, there’s chaos in the background, some sort of music too loud, you laughing at something stupid, maybe complaining about your project parter or even telling him about your day before he’s even finished saying hello.

today, there’s just some sort of stillness, almost like a long pause. then he hears your voice, a little rough. “hey.”

logan sits up straighter immediately, phone pressed closer to his ear. “hey, baby. you okay? is everything good?”

another pause that’s way too long for you. “yeah..” he doesn’t buy it for a second. he’s already grabbing his hoodie and his shoes. “that answer sounded like it came from a dying cricket.”

on the other end, you almost let out a laugh, but not quite. “i’m fine. all good.” but john knew you better. “yeah, sure baby.”

he’s already at his door now, keys in hand. “how long you been sick?”

you hesitate again. that tells him everything. “don’t lie to me, sweetheart.” you let out a small sigh at his worried voice. “since like yesterday.”

logan closes his eyes for a second like he expected it and still doesn’t like it. “why didn’t you just tell me?”

“cause it’s literally not that bad, like at all.” you try to insist.

“you’re calling me sounding like that and saying it’s not that bad?”

there’s a soft shuffle on your end, like you’re curling up deeper into your blankets. “i- i just didn’t want to bother you, i guess.”

that makes him pause a little. then his voice slightly drops. “you could literally call me any time, while i’m doing quite literally anything and i would still show up”

you already knew he would. “logan.”

“what?” he says, like it’s obvious. “i’m coming over.”

you should’ve never admitted to being sick, you knew he would do this. drop whatever he’s doing just to take care of you. “please, no. you don’t have to!”

“yeah, i do.” he shuts the door behind him already heading out.

“stay where you are. don’t move. don’t suddenly try to act like you’re okay. i’m five minutes away.”

a tiny, tired laugh slips through your voice. “you’re dramatic.”

“yeah, yeah. love you too. see you soon.” and he hangs up before you can argue.

~

when he gets there, he doesn’t even wait for a proper invitation.

he knocks once, then unlocks the door how he has a thousand times before. you’re on the couch immediately in his line of sight.

the hoodie of his you have on is way too big, blanket wrapped around you like a burrito, your hair messy but somehow still perfect, and your cheeks and nose look a little rosier.

logan just stops for a second, taking in the sight of what he should’ve been taking care of. “jesus.” you stare at him nervously. “hi.”

he crosses the room in two steps and presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “you’re burning up.” you touch his hand for reassurance. “i told you i was fine.”

“you’re literally microwaving yourself.” you try to glare but it comes out weak and unfocused, which only makes him sigh harder. he kisses your forehead while thinking about his next steps.

“okay. couch stay is over.”

“logan..”

he’s already gently pulling the blanket tighter around you.

“nope. bed, hydration, soup, and i’m in charge.”

you smile at him trying to act tough. “since when?”

“since you got sick and decided to hide it like it’s a secret that i can’t be aware of.”

you try to protest again, but he just leans down slightly, softer now. “come on. i’ve got you, honey.”

~

your bed is instantly taken over. not even in a messy way, john is weirdly efficient. he fixes your pillows first, stacking them so you can actually breathe comfortably. he tucks your blanket in properly like you’re about to survive winter in a cabin. then he disappears into your kitchen without asking again. you hear cabinets opening. then closing.

then he mutters “why do you always buy sad crackers?”

from the bedroom, you mumble, “they’re not sad.”

you hear him open the fridge. you hear him moving around again, and despite the state you’re currently in, you relax a little deeper into the mattress.

~

when he comes back, he’s carrying a mug of tea and a bowl of soup that smells like it actually came from someone who cares about you. because it quite literally did. he sets it carefully on your nightstand carefully.

then he sits on the edge of your bed, elbow resting on his knee as he looks at you. “sit up a little.”

you groan. “i can’t move.”

“yes you can, miss dramatic.” he helps you anyway, slow and careful, like he’s scared to break you.

once you’re settled and sitting up, he hands you the mug first. “sip.” you do, actually enjoying the way the hot tea hits the back of your throat. it feels like its killing the soreness.

he watches like it’s his job.

“that’s…acceptable, i guess.” he decides.

you squint at him. “are you grading me on how i drink tea?”

he smiles at you. “absolutely.” he places a kiss to your hand, taking the tea and placing it on the nightstand beside you.

you manage a small laugh, and his entire face changes, like that was the goal the whole time.

you look down at your blanket instead of answering right away. logan shifts a little closer. “hey,” he says again, gentler. you glance up your eyes glossy from rubbing them.

his voice drops a little. “you don’t have to pretend you’re okay with me. ever.” something in your chest tightens at that.

“i just hate being sick so much,” you admit quietly.

“yeah,” he nods immediately. “me too, it’s annoying. and unfair, but i’m always here to get you through it.”

~

after you eat a little and drink most of the tea, you lie back down. logan stays sitting there, he doesn’t move, doesn’t leave. you watch him through half opened eyes. “you don’t have to stay the whole time,” you mumble.

he raises a brow. “who said i’m staying the whole time?”

you frown slightly. he leans back in the chair a bit, like he’s settling in. “of course i’m staying the whole time,” he corrects.

your eyes soften. “you didn’t have to come over either.”

“yeah,” he says simply. “i did. you’re my baby, i’m always gonna take care of you.” he reaches over, brushing your hair away from your forehead again, slower this time, planting a kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“you feel so warm, honey,” he murmurs.

you smile at him “you already said that a dozen times.”

“i’m saying it again.” you roll your eyes weakly. he could he so corny sometimes. he smiles. “ did you sleep, okay?”

“why? are you gonna leave?” he looks offended you would even think that. “no.”

“promise?” he looks at you like the answer is obvious. “ i promise.”

~

when you wake up again, you feel different. you’re warmer, your throat doesn’t feel as awful, and john is still there. exactly where you left him. scrolling on his phone quietly, occasionally glancing at you like it’s instinct.

when he notices you’re awake, his face softens immediately. “hey, sleepyhead.” you blink at him adjusting to the light. “you stayed.” he scoffs lightly. “yeah, that was kind of the plan.” you shift a little bit. he immediately adjusts your blanket again without thinking.

“how you feeling?” you think about it. “way better.” his shoulders relax like he’s been holding that answer in for hours. “good, good. i’m glad.”

he leans forward, resting his forearm on the bed beside you. “because i was getting ready to cancel all your plans for the week.”

you laugh properly this time, still weak, but real. logan grins. “don’t disappear on me like that again, yeah?” he says softly.

you nod at him, “okay..i won’t, i swear.” he smiles, satisfied. “good.” and then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, he stays exactly where he is.

DEAN DI LAURENTIS...

dean doesn’t realize you’re sick at first. not because he’s oblivious, he’s just used to you being..you. you’re always moving, always talking, always teasing him for something. even when you’re annoyed, you’re expressive about it.

so when you sit next to him on his bed while he’s half studying, half scrolling his phone, and you’re just..quiet, he assumes you’re tired. at least at first.

“you good?” he asks without looking up. “mhm, yeah.”

he pauses and finally looks up. you’re curled into one of his hoodies, blanket around your legs, hair slightly messy. your eyes are half lidded like you’re trying to stay present but losing the fight. dean immediately sits up straighter. “okay, that’s not normal.”

you sniff quietly. “what?”

“you.” he gestures at your face. “you’re doing the sick thing.”

“i’m not doing a thing.” you say as convincingly as possible.

“you’re doing it right now baby.” you try to roll your eyes but it turns into a slow blink instead. dean narrows his eyes.

then reaches over and presses his palm to your forehead. you don’t even fight it. that’s his first real clue. “oh shit” he says almost in a worried tone.

you tilt your head at him slightly. “what?”

he exhales through his nose. “you’re actually sick, baby.”

“i told you i was fine.”

“yeah,” he says, already standing. “and i’m telling you i’m a professional hockey player. doesn’t make it true.”

you watch him start grabbing random things, your water bottle, his hoodie off your shoulders, the blanket he somehow thinks isn’t enough.

“dean..baby.”

“nope,” he says immediately. “bed. come on.”

you blink slowly at him, he was such an idiot. “i’m already on the bed.”

“then stay on it better.” that makes you laugh a little which he notices instantly.

his expression softens a little. “first time i heard you laugh today.”

you frown slightly. “what?”

“you’ve been quiet all day. it’s weird. your laugh is like music to my ears and soul, baby.”

you giggle at how pathetic he sounds, but the roughness in your throat immediately punishes you.

“you feel like crap, huh?”

“a little bit, but don’t we all?”

“okay.” he quickly gives you a kiss before he walks towards the bedroom door, “stay here.” he disappears out of the room before you can argue.

a few minutes later, he comes back holding soup and a mug like he’s done this a hundred times. you were 100% tucker helped him assemble whatever this was.

he sits next to you on the bed, hip pressed against the mattress. “eat.” you stare at him, not buying it. “you made this?”

“i helped assemble it,” he corrects. “don’t get too excited, but i made the tea myself!”

you take a sip anyway. it’s actually good. your eyebrows lift slightly. dean notices immediately. “yeah,” he says all smug. “shocking, right?”

you roll your eyes as he grins. “there you go. some of your personality returning.”

you lean back against the pillows after a few bites, tiredness creeping back in. dean watches you for a second longer than necessary. then reaches over, tugging the blanket higher around your shoulders.

“you’re so warm,” he notes.

“didn’t you say that already?” he pokes your side, “i’m making sure.”

he looks at you, almost sympathetically. “you should’ve just told me you were feeling it yesterday.”

you shrug slightly. “didn’t want you to worry.” dean looks at you like that answer doesn’t make sense to him. “that’s literally my job.”

you glance up at him, he’s not joking. he leans back a little, arm resting along the headboard behind you.

“you don’t get to disappear on me when you feel like garbage, okay?” his voice is calm, but there’s something protective underneath it. you nod softly. “okay.”

he pulls you into his chest and begins to play with your hair, as you fall into a deep sleep.

JOHN TUCKER...

tucker notices something is off about you before you even say a word. not because he’s psychic, but because you’re texting him. and you are never just “texting him.”

normally your messages are chaotic, voice notes, memes, gifs, half finished thoughts, random updates about your day that make no sense unless he’s already talking to you in person.

today it’s so short, too short.

you: “i’m home.”

you: “tired.”

that’s it.

tucker stares at his phone for a second like it insulted him personally. then immediately types back.

tucker: “that’s it? that’s all i get?”

no reply, he waits. still nothing. now he’s sitting up in bed. typing again.

tucker: “are you okay?”

three dots appear and then disappear.

you: “yeah. just not feeling great.”

his expression changes instantly, a little worry rushing through him.

he’s already out of bed.

~

by the time he calls you, he’s halfway dressed.

you pick up after two rings. “hey” you say softly.

and that’s all it takes for him to know.

your voice is smaller and slower. like you’re conserving energy just to speak.

“hi,” he says immediately, gentler now. “what’s going on?”

“nothing serious.”

“that’s what everyone says right before they turn into a disaster.” a faint exhale on your end,

almost a laugh, but it stops halfway.

tucker frowns. “where are you?”

“my dorm.”

“stay right there.”

“tuck, i’m fine.”

“you’re not fine, you sound like you chipmunk.”

“rude.” you mumble while pressing your face into the blanket.

he softens immediately. “how long you been sick?”

“since last night.”

tucker is already grabbing his hoodie. “why didn’t you tell me?”

“didn’t want you to come all the way over here.”

he cuts you off without hesitation. “too late. already in motion.”

you hear rustling on your end. “no, no, no, you don’t have to!”

“baby,” he says, quieter now, like it’s obvious. “i want to. trust me.”

that makes you go silent. he pauses at his door.

“just stay in bed, okay? i’ll be there soon.”

“okay.”

“good girl. don’t fall asleep and leave me on read, i will break your door down.”

a small laugh comes out of you. “you’re being insane.”

“yeah, yeah. see you soon.”

~

tucker shows up like he lives there. knocks once. opens the door anyway.

“you should really lock your door,” he calls out immediately. you’re on the couch, curled under a blanket, hair messy, face tired.

you look up at him slowly. “hi.”

he freezes for half a second. “yeah, okay, nope.”

his hand goes straight to your forehead. “you’re hot.”

you blink at him, a smile playing on your lips. “you always say that.”

“not like that,” he says instantly. “like fever hot. don’t get weird.”

you give a tiny wink, your eye barely moving. he exhales.

“you feel awful, don’t you?”

you hesitate. “not really..kinda.”

he’s already moving toward your kitchen before you can protest. “do you have anything to eat that isn’t just comfort food? you need like sick food.”

“i have crackers.”

he runs a hand through his hair. “i’ll figure something out.”

~

he comes back out like ten minutes later with soup he definitely didn’t fully “make” so much as assemble aggressively. he sits next to you on the couch, immediately pulling your legs gently into his lap like it’s instinct.

you blink at him. “what are you doing?”

“helping.” he smirks at you.

“with my legs?”

“yes. they looked lonely.” you roll your eyes at him.

~

later, you’re tucked into your bed properly. tucker has somehow taken over organizing your entire space without being asked.

he’s stacking your meds, refilling your water bottle, folding the blanket you weren’t even using right.

you watch him from under your covers.

“you don’t have to stay the night, i feel bad,” you mumble.

he doesn’t even look up. “i know.”

“are you going to anyway?”

he doesn’t even spare you a glance, “yep.”

you stare at him intently. “why?”

he pauses, finally looking at you, like the answer is obvious.

then he walks over and sits on the edge of your bed.

“because you texted me the word tired like it was a personality trait,” he says.

you let out a small laugh, and he smiles back at yoi.

then his voice softens again. “and because i like you better when you’re not trying to do everything alone.”

your expression softens too. “you’re so annoying.”

“yeah,” he says easily. “but i’m your annoying.” you roll your eyes, but there’s no real menace in it.

when you finally fall asleep, it’s fast, tucker notices right away. he slows down, stops moving around.

just sits there for a second watching you breathe.

then carefully pulls your blanket up a little higher.

“sleep well, baby. i love you.”

~ ~ ~

a/n: i absolutely adored writing the same scenario but from each boys perspective and now they would handle it! definitely open to doing more of these!

his mouth opens, breath catching hard enough that you see his chest stop and inhale heavily. the assignment is forgotten, the laptop screen dimming as he turns fully, and before you can even smile he’s dropping straight to his knees on the carpet of his bedroom floor.

the sound is a soft thud but like every ounce of tension leaves his body at once. his hands rest on his thighs, palms open, and those hungry, yearning eyes lift to meet yours, they’re wide, dark, almost pleading.

“come to me, baby” he says, voice low and rough, every word wrapped in that same aching need that makes your stomach flip. he almost sounded like he wanted to cry. your poor baby was so overworked.

you take the few steps that close the distance, and the second you’re within reach his hands are on you, gentle at first, his fingertips tracing the edge of the fabric at your hips before sliding up, palms warm against your skin. he leans in, pressing his face right against your stomach, breathing you in like he’s been starved for it.

a soft, shaky exhale leaves him, and you feel the shake in his shoulders as he holds himself back from pulling you down too fast.

his fingers hook under the thin straps at your hips, not tugging, just holding, feeling the texture of the lace against his skin. he looks up again, those same puppy eyes darker now, lashes low, and you can see how hard he’s fighting to stay still, to let you come to him the way he asked.

the clear yearning is there, enough that you feel it in your own pulse.

you thread your nails through his hair, and that’s all it takes for him to surge forward, mouth pressing open kisses along the line of lace just above your navel, tongue flicking out to taste skin wherever the fabric allows.

his hands slide around to cup your ass, squeezing once before he drags you even closer, burying his face between your thighs without hesitation. the lace is already damp from how wet you are, and he moans against it, the sound vibrating straight through you. “john” you moan quietly.

he doesn’t rush. he stays on his knees, worshipping every inch he can reach, kissing the inside of your thigh, the sheer thin covering your pussy, breathing hot and heavy until you’re rocking against his mouth without meaning to.

his tongue presses flat through the fabric, licking slow and deliberate, soaking the lace even more until it clings to you. every time you tug his hair he groans, the sound needy and desperate, and he looks up again with those same hungry eyes like he’s asking permission to keep going, to pull the delicate material aside and finally taste you properly.

when you nod, his fingers are quick but careful, easing the lace down your hips just enough to bare you to him. he doesn’t stand up yet.

he stays right there on the floor, pulling you forward until your thighs cover his face, and then his mouth is on your bare pussy, tongue sliding through your folds, lips sealing around your clit to suck gently before he flattens his tongue again and laps at you like he’s been thinking about this all day. “ugh, you- you make me feel so good johnny.”

his hands grip your ass tighter, holding you steady while he eats you out with slow, thorough strokes that make your knees shake. if it wasn’t for his grip on your ass, you would’ve fallen to the floor by now.

you can feel how turned on he is, the hard outline of his cock against his sweats, but he doesn’t touch himself. he just keeps his focus on you, licking and sucking until your hips are rolling against his mouth and soft sounds are slipping from your throat.

every few seconds he glances up, checking your face with those same yearning eyes, like your pleasure is the only thing that matters in the world right now.

when your thighs start to tremble harder he pulls back just enough to press a kiss to your clit, then another lower, tongue dipping inside you for a moment before he stands in one fluid motion.

his arms wrap around you, lifting you easily, and he carries you the short distance to the bed without ever looking away from your face.

he lays you down carefully, the lace still tangled around one thigh, and climbs over you, settling between your spread legs.

he kisses you then, so deep, slow, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, while his hand works between your bodies to shove his sweats down just far enough. the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, hot and slick from how ready you both are, and he pauses there, forehead resting against yours, breathing hard.

“tell me you want this honey,” he whispers, voice wrecked, eyes searching yours like he needs the words as much as the act itself.

when you pull him closer and say yes, he sinks into you in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the deepest he can with a groan that vibrates through both of you.

he stays still for a moment, just feeling you around him, then starts to move, slow at first, rolling his hips so every stroke drags against that perfect spot inside you.

his hands never stop moving, sliding over the lace still clinging to your body, fingers tracing every strap and bow like he’s memorizing the way it looks on you.

he leans down to kiss the swell of your breast above the cup of the bra, teeth grazing lightly before he sucks a mark there, claiming you even as he fucks you deeper. the bed creaks under the steady rhythm he sets, each thrust pushing you higher, and he keeps his eyes on your face the whole time, watching every reaction, every flutter of your lashes when he hits just right.

you come first, clenching around him hard enough that his rhythm falters, and he follows right after, burying his face in your neck as he spills inside you with a broken moan, hips jerking through the aftershocks.

he doesn’t pull out right away. he stays there, cock still twitching, pressing soft kisses along your jaw and whispering how beautiful you look, how much he needed this, how he’ll never get tired of seeing you like this just for him. “you’re just so perfect baby.” he whimpers into your neck. “i’d do anything for you. anything, i promise.”

~ ~ ~ ~

his mouth opens, breath catching hard enough that you see his chest stop and inhale heavily. the assignment is forgotten, the laptop screen dimming as he turns fully, and before you can even smile he’s dropping straight to his knees on the carpet of his bedroom floor.

the sound is a soft thud but like every ounce of tension leaves his body at once. his hands rest on his thighs, palms open, and those hungry, yearning eyes lift to meet yours, they’re wide, dark, almost pleading.

“come to me, baby” he says, voice low and rough, every word wrapped in that same aching need that makes your stomach flip. he almost sounded like he wanted to cry. your poor baby was so overworked.

you take the few steps that close the distance, and the second you’re within reach his hands are on you, gentle at first, his fingertips tracing the edge of the fabric at your hips before sliding up, palms warm against your skin. he leans in, pressing his face right against your stomach, breathing you in like he’s been starved for it.

a soft, shaky exhale leaves him, and you feel the shake in his shoulders as he holds himself back from pulling you down too fast.

his fingers hook under the thin straps at your hips, not tugging, just holding, feeling the texture of the lace against his skin. he looks up again, those same puppy eyes darker now, lashes low, and you can see how hard he’s fighting to stay still, to let you come to him the way he asked.

the clear yearning is there, enough that you feel it in your own pulse.

you thread your nails through his hair, and that’s all it takes for him to surge forward, mouth pressing open kisses along the line of lace just above your navel, tongue flicking out to taste skin wherever the fabric allows.

his hands slide around to cup your ass, squeezing once before he drags you even closer, burying his face between your thighs without hesitation. the lace is already damp from how wet you are, and he moans against it, the sound vibrating straight through you. “john” you moan quietly.

he doesn’t rush. he stays on his knees, worshipping every inch he can reach, kissing the inside of your thigh, the sheer thin covering your pussy, breathing hot and heavy until you’re rocking against his mouth without meaning to.

his tongue presses flat through the fabric, licking slow and deliberate, soaking the lace even more until it clings to you. every time you tug his hair he groans, the sound needy and desperate, and he looks up again with those same hungry eyes like he’s asking permission to keep going, to pull the delicate material aside and finally taste you properly.

when you nod, his fingers are quick but careful, easing the lace down your hips just enough to bare you to him. he doesn’t stand up yet.

he stays right there on the floor, pulling you forward until your thighs cover his face, and then his mouth is on your bare pussy, tongue sliding through your folds, lips sealing around your clit to suck gently before he flattens his tongue again and laps at you like he’s been thinking about this all day. “ugh, you- you make me feel so good johnny.”

his hands grip your ass tighter, holding you steady while he eats you out with slow, thorough strokes that make your knees shake. if it wasn’t for his grip on your ass, you would’ve fallen to the floor by now.

you can feel how turned on he is, the hard outline of his cock against his sweats, but he doesn’t touch himself. he just keeps his focus on you, licking and sucking until your hips are rolling against his mouth and soft sounds are slipping from your throat.

every few seconds he glances up, checking your face with those same yearning eyes, like your pleasure is the only thing that matters in the world right now.

when your thighs start to tremble harder he pulls back just enough to press a kiss to your clit, then another lower, tongue dipping inside you for a moment before he stands in one fluid motion.

his arms wrap around you, lifting you easily, and he carries you the short distance to the bed without ever looking away from your face.

he lays you down carefully, the lace still tangled around one thigh, and climbs over you, settling between your spread legs.

he kisses you then, so deep, slow, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, while his hand works between your bodies to shove his sweats down just far enough. the head of his cock nudges against your entrance, hot and slick from how ready you both are, and he pauses there, forehead resting against yours, breathing hard.

“tell me you want this honey,” he whispers, voice wrecked, eyes searching yours like he needs the words as much as the act itself.

when you pull him closer and say yes, he sinks into you in one smooth thrust, burying himself to the deepest he can with a groan that vibrates through both of you.

he stays still for a moment, just feeling you around him, then starts to move, slow at first, rolling his hips so every stroke drags against that perfect spot inside you.

his hands never stop moving, sliding over the lace still clinging to your body, fingers tracing every strap and bow like he’s memorizing the way it looks on you.

he leans down to kiss the swell of your breast above the cup of the bra, teeth grazing lightly before he sucks a mark there, claiming you even as he fucks you deeper. the bed creaks under the steady rhythm he sets, each thrust pushing you higher, and he keeps his eyes on your face the whole time, watching every reaction, every flutter of your lashes when he hits just right.

you come first, clenching around him hard enough that his rhythm falters, and he follows right after, burying his face in your neck as he spills inside you with a broken moan, hips jerking through the aftershocks.

he doesn’t pull out right away. he stays there, cock still twitching, pressing soft kisses along your jaw and whispering how beautiful you look, how much he needed this, how he’ll never get tired of seeing you like this just for him. “you’re just so perfect baby.” he whimpers into your neck. “i’d do anything for you. anything, i promise.”

~ ~ ~ ~

୨୧ john logan who waits outside your lectures whenever his schedule lines up with yours. you'll walk out expecting to head back to your dorm alone, only to find him leaning against the wall with two iced coffees in his hands and the biggest smile on his face. "ready?" he'll ask, like walking you across campus is the most important part of his day. 

୨୧ john logan who always pulls you back onto his lap when you get up too quickly. "where are you going?" he'll ask with a little pout, wrapping an arm around your waist before you can answer. "jus five more minutes."

୨୧ john logan who notices every tiny thing about you without even trying. if you get your nails done, he notices. if you wear a new perfume, he notices. if you part your hair differently or switch lip glosses, he'll tilt his head for a second before smiling. "you changed something." when you ask how he always knows, he just shrugs. "i dunno, baby…i just look at you."

୨୧ john logan who kisses your forehead every single time he thinks you're worried about something. he never really knows the right words, so instead he just presses a slow kiss to your forehead, rubs your back, and quietly reminds you, "it's gonna be okay, baby." or “i’m always here to help and support you.”

୨୧ john logan who absolutely loves when you steal his hockey hoodies and jerseys. you'll apologize for wearing them out and he'll laugh because that's exactly how he likes seeing them. everyone on campus recognizes his number, but his last name being on the clothing really shows, so whenever you're walking around in one of his jerseys, his teammates immediately start teasing him. "there goes logan's girl," they joke, and he can't even pretend to be embarrassed because he secretly loves that everyone knows you're his.

୨୧ john logan who can't stop smiling whenever your name lights up on his phone. he'll be sitting in the locker room before a game listening to one of the guys talk, glance down at the notification, and suddenly he's grinning so hard they all groan in unison. "it's her again, isn't it?" dean asks. logan doesn't even deny it anymore, just nods happily.

୨୧ john logan who shares everything with you without thinking. if he orders fries, he's already sliding the basket closer to the middle of the table so you can steal some. if you get dessert, you're handing him the first bite before you even taste it yourself. the two of you are constantly reaching across the table to feed each other little bites, and everyone around you just stares because you've become so used to it that neither of you even notices anymore.

୨୧ john logan who buys your coffee almost every morning before class. if you're in more of a tea mood, he'll make it himself and bring it to your dorm while it's still warm. he learns exactly how you like both without ever having to ask twice, and showing up with your drink becomes as much a part of his morning routine as brushing his teeth.

୨୧ john logan who looks for you before anyone else after every single game. while everyone else is celebrating or talking to family, he's scanning the crowd until he spots you waiting outside the locker room. the second he does, his whole face softens. he'll walk straight past half the team just to wrap you in a hug, still sweaty and exhausted, because as he claims, seeing you makes every win feel better.

୨୧ john logan who truly can't sleep unless he kisses you goodnight. if one of you accidentally falls asleep on opposite ends of the couch while studying, he'll wake up just enough to find you, press a sleepy kiss to your forehead, mumble, "night, baby," and only then can he actually fall asleep.

୨୧ john logan who notices when you're having a long day before you even admit it. if you're stuck studying or buried in assignments, he'll disappear for twenty minutes and come back with your favorite takeout or something he and tucker made themselves. he'll set it beside you with a quiet, "eat first, then keep working," before kissing your temple like taking care of you is the most important thing in the world. (because to him, it quite literally is)

୨୧ john logan who will drop absolutely anything if you need a ride. practice just ended? he'll come get you. he's halfway through dinner with the guys? he'll tell them he'll be back. your car won't start or you don't feel like walking home in the rain? he's already grabbing his keys before you've even finished asking. to him, there isn't anywhere more important to be than wherever you are.

୨୧ john logan who has a picture of you as his lock screen, not one of the two of you together, just a candid he took while you were laughing over dinner one night. you had no idea he even took it, but it's his favorite picture of you. every time he unlocks his phone, he smiles without realizing it, and whenever you ask him why he won't change it, his answer is always the same. "why would i? it's my favorite picture." you literally shake your head at how ridiculous he sounds. “plus, isn’t your background supposed to be something you love?” 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~