garrett knows you're getting sick before you do. it starts when the two of you are sitting in the library, supposedly studying for your biology exam. he's trying, he really is, but every couple of minutes his eyes drift away from his notes and back to you.
normally you're the one reminding him to focus. today, though, you've barely said a word.
your chin is resting in your palm as you stare unfocused at your textbook, blinking a little slower than usual. every few minutes you quietly sniffle, rubbing your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt before apologizing under your breath.
garrett watches you for another minute before reaching across the table and laying the back of his hand against your forehead.
you blink up at him. "what are you doing?" his brows furrow. "checking to see if you're dying."
you let out the smallest laugh, rolling your eyes. "i'm not dying, silly."
"you look like you could fall asleep face first into your textbook."
"i'm just tired." he studies your face for another second. there are faint bags beneath your eyes, and your usual bright smile is nowhere to be found.
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!
you hear the door click open and the familiar shuffle of john coming back from practice, his duffel hitting the floor with a soft thud.
he doesn’t even spare you a glance, immediately muttering something about drills and how coach was on his ass again, not even looking up as he takes off his shoes and heads straight for the desk where his laptop sits open.
you’ve been waiting, standing there in the middle of the room wearing nothing but delicate black lace that hugs your curves just right, the material doing little to hide anything, tiny bows at your hips and between your breasts catching the low light. he doesn’t notice. not at first.
“john,” you call softly, but he’s already typing, shoulders hunched, completely focused on whatever assignment or schedule he’s pulling up.
you try again, a little louder this time. “johnnn” you drag on. still nothing. he’s lost in his own world, his fingers flying over the keys, the only sound in the room the quiet click of the keys and his occasional sigh.
you take a slow step closer, the lace shifting against your skin with every movement.
“john. logan.” this time your voice carries a little more frustration, enough to make him pause.
he glances over his shoulder, distracted, his eyebrows drawn together like he’s about to give up completely.
then his eyes land on you.
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.”
~ ~ ~ ~
a/n: as it’s clear, i’ve been heavily into my logan era, specifically yearning logan. this is based off this request! requests are open! 💗
garrett knows you're getting sick before you do. it starts when the two of you are sitting in the library, supposedly studying for your biology exam. he's trying, he really is, but every couple of minutes his eyes drift away from his notes and back to you.
normally you're the one reminding him to focus. today, though, you've barely said a word.
your chin is resting in your palm as you stare unfocused at your textbook, blinking a little slower than usual. every few minutes you quietly sniffle, rubbing your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt before apologizing under your breath.
garrett watches you for another minute before reaching across the table and laying the back of his hand against your forehead.
you blink up at him. "what are you doing?" his brows furrow. "checking to see if you're dying."
you let out the smallest laugh, rolling your eyes. "i'm not dying, silly."
"you look like you could fall asleep face first into your textbook."
"i'm just tired." he studies your face for another second. there are faint bags beneath your eyes, and your usual bright smile is nowhere to be found.
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!
you hear the door click open and the familiar shuffle of john coming back from practice, his duffel hitting the floor with a soft thud.
he doesn’t even spare you a glance, immediately muttering something about drills and how coach was on his ass again, not even looking up as he takes off his shoes and heads straight for the desk where his laptop sits open.
you’ve been waiting, standing there in the middle of the room wearing nothing but delicate black lace that hugs your curves just right, the material doing little to hide anything, tiny bows at your hips and between your breasts catching the low light. he doesn’t notice. not at first.
“john,” you call softly, but he’s already typing, shoulders hunched, completely focused on whatever assignment or schedule he’s pulling up.
you try again, a little louder this time. “johnnn” you drag on. still nothing. he’s lost in his own world, his fingers flying over the keys, the only sound in the room the quiet click of the keys and his occasional sigh.
you take a slow step closer, the lace shifting against your skin with every movement.
“john. logan.” this time your voice carries a little more frustration, enough to make him pause.
he glances over his shoulder, distracted, his eyebrows drawn together like he’s about to give up completely.
then his eyes land on you.
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.”
~ ~ ~ ~
a/n: as it’s clear, i’ve been heavily into my logan era, specifically yearning logan. this is based off this request! requests are open! 💗
୨୧ john logan who always immediately looks for you the second he walks into a room. it doesn't matter if it's a party, a lecture hall, or a crowded hockey event, his eyes always find you first, and his teammates have started placing bets on how long it'll take before he mentions your name in conversation. somehow every story circles back to you, every joke ends with "well, she said..." and they never let him live it down. "holy shit! we get it, logan!” garrett groans. "you're obsessed." he just shrugs with a grin because..yeah, maybe he is.
୨୧ john logan who catches himself smiling halfway through kissing you because he's still not used to the fact that he actually gets to. you'll pull away with a confused little laugh, asking what's so funny, and he'll just shake his head before kissing you again because he genuinely can't believe you're his.
୨୧ john logan who saves the seat beside him every lecture, before you even get there. if someone tries sitting in it, he'll casually tell them, "she's sitting there," like it's the most obvious thing in the world. half the campus already knows not to take the seat next to logan because it's been unofficially reserved for you since the first week you met.
୨୧ john logan who always comes back from the convenience store with a bag of crunchy flaming hot cheetos because they’re your favorite. you never even have to ask anymore. he'll toss them into your lap with a casual, "figured you'd want these," like he didn't specifically go down that aisle just because he knew they d make you smile.
୨୧ john logan who hugs you like he hasn't seen you in weeks, even if you only left for your morning lecture. he'll bury his face into your neck for a second longer than necessary before mumbling, "missed you so damn much baby.”
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?”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
john logan requests are open, and i’m in need of ideas!
you hear the door click open and the familiar shuffle of john coming back from practice, his duffel hitting the floor with a soft thud.
he doesn’t even spare you a glance, immediately muttering something about drills and how coach was on his ass again, not even looking up as he takes off his shoes and heads straight for the desk where his laptop sits open.
you’ve been waiting, standing there in the middle of the room wearing nothing but delicate black lace that hugs your curves just right, the material doing little to hide anything, tiny bows at your hips and between your breasts catching the low light. he doesn’t notice. not at first.
“john,” you call softly, but he’s already typing, shoulders hunched, completely focused on whatever assignment or schedule he’s pulling up.
you try again, a little louder this time. “johnnn” you drag on. still nothing. he’s lost in his own world, his fingers flying over the keys, the only sound in the room the quiet click of the keys and his occasional sigh.
you take a slow step closer, the lace shifting against your skin with every movement.
“john. logan.” this time your voice carries a little more frustration, enough to make him pause.
he glances over his shoulder, distracted, his eyebrows drawn together like he’s about to give up completely.
then his eyes land on you.
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.”
~ ~ ~ ~
a/n: as it’s clear, i’ve been heavily into my logan era, specifically yearning logan. this is based off this request! requests are open! 💗
heeey, I love your works. Since your requests are open, can I ask for something with Logan, if you don't mind
so, the thing is that I saw the idea about John being a sucker for lingerie. something about seeing his significant other in pretty lingerie makes his knees weaken. and I can't stop thinking about it....
Imagine he comes home or enters his dorm and doesn't notice her outfit at first (or she's deliberately done it so he wouldn't notice). She needs to call him several times to distract him from his activity (or get him to pay attention to her). Then he turns around, sees her all beautiful, in cute lingerie, standing here and being this pretty just for him, and he just drops to his knees, and all he says is "come to me", with his hungry yearning puppy eyes, and, well, you know the rest ))
thanks, and I hope you have a beautiful day
thank you sooo much, and thank you for the amazing request! (this was so much fun to write, especially because i love logan yearning) it’s posted here! 💗
୨୧ john logan who always immediately looks for you the second he walks into a room. it doesn't matter if it's a party, a lecture hall, or a crowded hockey event, his eyes always find you first, and his teammates have started placing bets on how long it'll take before he mentions your name in conversation. somehow every story circles back to you, every joke ends with "well, she said..." and they never let him live it down. "holy shit! we get it, logan!” garrett groans. "you're obsessed." he just shrugs with a grin because..yeah, maybe he is.
୨୧ john logan who catches himself smiling halfway through kissing you because he's still not used to the fact that he actually gets to. you'll pull away with a confused little laugh, asking what's so funny, and he'll just shake his head before kissing you again because he genuinely can't believe you're his.
୨୧ john logan who saves the seat beside him every lecture, before you even get there. if someone tries sitting in it, he'll casually tell them, "she's sitting there," like it's the most obvious thing in the world. half the campus already knows not to take the seat next to logan because it's been unofficially reserved for you since the first week you met.
୨୧ john logan who always comes back from the convenience store with a bag of crunchy flaming hot cheetos because they’re your favorite. you never even have to ask anymore. he'll toss them into your lap with a casual, "figured you'd want these," like he didn't specifically go down that aisle just because he knew they d make you smile.
୨୧ john logan who hugs you like he hasn't seen you in weeks, even if you only left for your morning lecture. he'll bury his face into your neck for a second longer than necessary before mumbling, "missed you so damn much baby.”
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?”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
john logan requests are open, and i’m in need of ideas!
stalker!rafe who first sees you completely by accident. he isn't looking for anything or anyone.
he'd stopped at a cute little café tucked away off the main downtown road because it was quiet, he ordered a black coffee he barely touched, and somehow happened to glance up when the bell above the door chimed.
you walked in wearing an oversized sweater, and a mini jean skirt, smiling so kindly when you held the door open too long for an older couple behind you. you thanked the barista by name. you left a tip and sat in the corner by the window with a book you barely read because you kept looking outside at your people who were walking by every few minutes.
he watched you for almost an hour. you had no idea. and since that day, he kept coming back.
at first it was coincidence, he saw you a second time, this time you were with your friends, you didn’t sit inside, just ordered your regular coffee then left to a shop down the street, you laughed happily with your friends, evoking something inside of rafe. he should be the one making you laugh like that.
from that day, he then realized your routine. every tuesday and thursday morning at 9:15, you were there with the same vanilla latte and blueberry muffin.
fridays you ordered iced coffee instead. sundays you stayed longer, usually writing in a little notebook with messy handwriting he couldn't quite make out from across the room. he noticed everything. the rings you twisted around your fingers when you were nervous.
the way you always tucked your hair behind your ear before taking the first sip of your drink. how you smiled at everyone. how you remembered all the workers names.
one morning, he decided to stop watching. just for five minutes. he walked over to your table with his burning coffee in one hand. "mind if i sit here?" you looked up so suddenly you almost dropped your spoon. "oh..." your cheeks turned pink immediately.
"yeah—i mean, sure." he sat down across from you, a smile playing on his lips. you barely looked him in the eyes at first. instead you kept stirring your coffee even though there was nothing left to mix. he found it..cute.
you talked for maybe ten minutes about nothing important. the weather, the café's amazing blueberry muffins, the bookstore you love to shop at a few streets over.
he made you laugh once, a real genuine laugh. you covered your smile with your sleeve afterward because you got embarrassed.
when he left, you smiled and quietly told him to have a nice day. he thought about that smile for weeks after that, he didn't speak to you again. he just watched, because he liked seeing you when you didn't know he was looking. it felt..more honest.
he'd pass you in grocery stores. see you walking home with headphones in. notice which flowers you stopped to look at outside the florist. sometimes you'd glance in his direction without really seeing him.
other times you'd walk right past him. he always stayed just far enough away. until one rainy afternoon. you came rushing around the corner of a bookstore, looking down while trying to shove your umbrella into your bag. you walked straight into him.
"oh my god!" you gasped, stumbling back. "i'm so sorry." before you could lose your balance, his one hand was already around your forearm, steadying you and the other wrapped around your waist fixing your stance. "you're okay."
you looked up, and then your eyes went wide as your face lit up with recognition.
"wait." you smiled. "it's you." he couldn't help smiling back. "guess so." you laughed softly, brushing a strand of damp hair behind your ear. "we keep bumping into each other."
if only you knew. "yeah..seems like it," he answered easily, smiling softly at you. you shifted your weight, still smiling that shy little smile he'd replayed in his head more times than he'd admit.
"i never actually got your name." he looked at you for a second, his eyes becoming a little darker. "s’ rafe."
you repeated it quietly, almost testing how it sounded. "i'm..." you told him your name. he already knew it. he had known it for weeks. still..he acted like it was the first time he'd ever heard it. "nice to officially meet you." you laughed again.
"maybe i'll see you around?" he smiled. "i'm sure you will." you walked away thinking the universe had a funny way of throwing the same handsome stranger into your path.
rafe watched until you disappeared around the corner. then he looked down at the little receipt that had fallen out of your tote bag when you'd bumped into him. without thinking twice, he slipped it into his pocket. just another small thing that belonged to you. another reminder that, little bit by little bit..you were becoming his. even if you didn't know he had already made you his weeks ago.
but that wasn’t enough. not for him. not yet.
over the next few weeks, his obsession deepened.
the quiet, dark hours when the city slept felt like the only time he could truly see you without attracting attention.
one dark evening, he found himself outside your house, parked in the shadows of an alleyway, watching your window. the faint glow of your lamp flickered softly as you moved around inside, and he could see the faint outline of your silhouette.
it was very late, way past midnight, and he knew you’d be asleep soon, yet he still watched.
sometimes, he would linger by the window for what felt like hours, observing the way you moved, the faint flicker of your tv, and the way your curtains moved slightly in the breeze from your open window.
one specific rainy afternoon, he followed you again, this time in his car, trailing behind you as you walked home from your shift at the flower shop.
you carried a small bouquet in your hand, your face glowing because of your phone as you hummed softly to yourself.
he kept a safe distance, the rain blurring his vision, watching your every step like a predator in quiet patience. god, he felt so creepy.
he saw how you glanced over your shoulder, though he was just far enough away that you didn’t notice.
then, as you reached the street near your house, he parked his car a little further down and kept his engine running, the window slightly cracked so he could hear if you called for help. you didn’t. you kept walking, unaware of him following just behind.
he wondered what you’d do if you knew. would you be frightened? would you run? or would you turn around and confront him? would you mind? the thought made his stomach tighten, a strange mixture of anticipation and obsession.
sometimes, he’d move closer, slipping through the forest behind your home, just to peer through your windows when you weren’t looking. you looked so perfect, whether you were reading your book sipping tea, or cooking dinner while your laptop played the vampire diaries or pretty little liars.
he watched your daily routines, your private moments, and he felt the thrill of being unseen.
he knew every detail now—the way your fingers trembled when you were nervous, the way your eyes softened when you looked at something you loved.
he wanted to be closer, to reach out and touch what he wanted most. but he waited, patient and calm, for the moment when you’d truly notice him, not just as a creepy guy lurking around, but as the one who was always protecting you. loving you.
and in the quiet cold of the night, rafe’s obsession grew heavier. the boundary between fascination and something hungrier came together.
you were lying on john’s bed half asleep, your notes laid out in front of you, serving no purpose. you stirred awake to the heavy slam of his bedroom door, john’s boots thudded across the floor as he barged in, still reeking of the arena, musky cologne, and sweat from hours of drills.
his shoulders stayed locked tight, jaw grinding and tense from that blowup with garrett over the way he was disrespecting everyone, that little confrontation had dragged the whole practice into overtime.
“baby are you okay? how was practice?” you murmured quietly. you never liked how stressed he would get over practices, especially when they ended up with arguments involving garrett.
he didn't bother with words, just stripped off his gear piece by piece in the bedroom, eyes locked on you with that hungry dark look.
the second he climbed into bed his mouth crashed down on yours, tongue pushing deep in a rough kiss that stole your breath and left your lips swollen.
his hands ripped the blankets aside and peeled away whatever you had on until nothing separated your skin from his. you were laid out pretty and bare for him just the way he liked it.
everyone knew how gentle john logan was with you. always making sure you’re okay, kissing you gently, and speaking to you with the softest tone. but days like these when he was frustrated and missing you, all he wanted to do at the end of the day was fuck you senseless.
john spread your thighs wide and dropped his head straight between them, wasting no time, dragging his tongue in one thick, slow stripe right through your wet folds. you moaned loudly the pleasure flowing through you all at once.
he buried his face there, sucking your clit between his lips with hard pulls while his tongue shoved inside your pussy again and again, lapping up every drop of your essence as it slicked his chin.
at the same time two thick fingers pushed in deep, pumping steady and curling to hit that sensitive spot inside with every thrust.
the pressure built fast, your back bowing off the mattress as the pleasure slammed through you in heavy waves, tears stinging your eyes from how intense it felt. “oh my god!” you barely got out, your body getting hot all over.
he didn't ease up, mouth working your swollen clit nonstop while his fingers stretched and fucked you open, the wet sounds echoing loud in the room as he growled low against your skin.
"this perfect pussy belongs to me," he muttered between licks. "spent the whole practice thinking about burying my tongue in it. take every bit, baby." his tongue flattened and circled your clit slow before sucking it back in, fingers never slowing their deep drive inside you.
your hips rocked up to meet his face without thinking, moans pouring out of you as the heat climbed higher until your vision went blurry from the tears of raw pleasure.
he worked his fingers slowly, hitting your spot every time, having you moaning and arching off the bed, while his mouth stayed glued to your clit, sucking until your legs trembled hard around his head.
when he pulled back, mouth glistening and gaze dark, john lined his thick cock up and drove inside you in one hard thrust, sinking to the base. he started pounding right away, giving you no time as he usually would to adjust.
his hips began snapping forward in sharp, deep strokes that shook the bed frame. the both of you already knew the guys would tease him about this later. logan didn’t have it in him to give one fuck, not when you were squeezing him so well.
his hands pinned your wrists above your head, body pressing you flat as he fucked into your pussy without holding back, using every inch of you to work off the anger from practice and the fight with garrett. "you squeeze my cock so perfectly, honey," he growled, voice raspy and filthy as he talked you through it.
"so tight and soaked for me. feel how deep i'm hitting? yeah, take it all, good girl. let me fuck this pussy the way you want it."
you melted into it completely, desperate and lost, kissing him messy between every moan and agreeing to every dirty word he threw at you. "yes, john, harder, please," you gasped against his mouth, body lifting to meet his aggressive rhythm.
"i need it, use me, fuck me just like that." he kept driving into you, dirty talk flowing nonstop. "look at you taking every inch like you were made for it. this pussy feels so good clenching around me. you love when i have a bad practice, cause you know i fuck you well after it, don't you? say it."
your lips found his again in another hungry kiss, tongue sliding against his as you nodded and whispered back, "yes, i love it, don't stop, fill me up."
john let go of your wrists only to grip your hips tight, yanking you down onto his cock with each thrust, the new angle letting him grind deep against your front while he kept talking.
"gonna make you cum all over me. squeeze me tighter, baby. that's my girl, always taking this dick so well."
he shifted one hand between your bodies to rub your clit in tight circles while he fucked you even harder, the added pressure pushing you straight to the edge. your nails raked down his back, pulling him closer as you kissed him desperately and agreed to everything between broken sounds. "yes, john, i'm yours, cum inside me, please."
his pace turned rougher, balls slapping against you with every stroke, sweat slicking both your bodies as he used the heat of your cunt to burn through every bit of leftover tension from the long day. "good girl, just like that, cum for me while i fill this pussy up."
the orgasm crashed over you hard, body clamping down around his cock as tears slipped down your cheeks from the intensity, and john followed right after, burying himself deep and pulsing hot inside you with a low groan, hips jerking through the aftershocks while he kept you pinned and kissed you through it all. he looked down at you lovingly, you looked so messy and perfect for him. “my beautiful girl..” he whispered as he stroked your cheek.
you were lying on john’s bed half asleep, your notes laid out in front of you, serving no purpose. you stirred awake to the heavy slam of his bedroom door, john’s boots thudded across the floor as he barged in, still reeking of the arena, musky cologne, and sweat from hours of drills.
his shoulders stayed locked tight, jaw grinding and tense from that blowup with garrett over the way he was disrespecting everyone, that little confrontation had dragged the whole practice into overtime.
“baby are you okay? how was practice?” you murmured quietly. you never liked how stressed he would get over practices, especially when they ended up with arguments involving garrett.
he didn't bother with words, just stripped off his gear piece by piece in the bedroom, eyes locked on you with that hungry dark look.
the second he climbed into bed his mouth crashed down on yours, tongue pushing deep in a rough kiss that stole your breath and left your lips swollen.
his hands ripped the blankets aside and peeled away whatever you had on until nothing separated your skin from his. you were laid out pretty and bare for him just the way he liked it.
everyone knew how gentle john logan was with you. always making sure you’re okay, kissing you gently, and speaking to you with the softest tone. but days like these when he was frustrated and missing you, all he wanted to do at the end of the day was fuck you senseless.
john spread your thighs wide and dropped his head straight between them, wasting no time, dragging his tongue in one thick, slow stripe right through your wet folds. you moaned loudly the pleasure flowing through you all at once.
he buried his face there, sucking your clit between his lips with hard pulls while his tongue shoved inside your pussy again and again, lapping up every drop of your essence as it slicked his chin.
at the same time two thick fingers pushed in deep, pumping steady and curling to hit that sensitive spot inside with every thrust.
the pressure built fast, your back bowing off the mattress as the pleasure slammed through you in heavy waves, tears stinging your eyes from how intense it felt. “oh my god!” you barely got out, your body getting hot all over.
he didn't ease up, mouth working your swollen clit nonstop while his fingers stretched and fucked you open, the wet sounds echoing loud in the room as he growled low against your skin.
"this perfect pussy belongs to me," he muttered between licks. "spent the whole practice thinking about burying my tongue in it. take every bit, baby." his tongue flattened and circled your clit slow before sucking it back in, fingers never slowing their deep drive inside you.
your hips rocked up to meet his face without thinking, moans pouring out of you as the heat climbed higher until your vision went blurry from the tears of raw pleasure.
he worked his fingers slowly, hitting your spot every time, having you moaning and arching off the bed, while his mouth stayed glued to your clit, sucking until your legs trembled hard around his head.
when he pulled back, mouth glistening and gaze dark, john lined his thick cock up and drove inside you in one hard thrust, sinking to the base. he started pounding right away, giving you no time as he usually would to adjust.
his hips began snapping forward in sharp, deep strokes that shook the bed frame. the both of you already knew the guys would tease him about this later. logan didn’t have it in him to give one fuck, not when you were squeezing him so well.
his hands pinned your wrists above your head, body pressing you flat as he fucked into your pussy without holding back, using every inch of you to work off the anger from practice and the fight with garrett. "you squeeze my cock so perfectly, honey," he growled, voice raspy and filthy as he talked you through it.
"so tight and soaked for me. feel how deep i'm hitting? yeah, take it all, good girl. let me fuck this pussy the way you want it."
you melted into it completely, desperate and lost, kissing him messy between every moan and agreeing to every dirty word he threw at you. "yes, john, harder, please," you gasped against his mouth, body lifting to meet his aggressive rhythm.
"i need it, use me, fuck me just like that." he kept driving into you, dirty talk flowing nonstop. "look at you taking every inch like you were made for it. this pussy feels so good clenching around me. you love when i have a bad practice, cause you know i fuck you well after it, don't you? say it."
your lips found his again in another hungry kiss, tongue sliding against his as you nodded and whispered back, "yes, i love it, don't stop, fill me up."
john let go of your wrists only to grip your hips tight, yanking you down onto his cock with each thrust, the new angle letting him grind deep against your front while he kept talking.
"gonna make you cum all over me. squeeze me tighter, baby. that's my girl, always taking this dick so well."
he shifted one hand between your bodies to rub your clit in tight circles while he fucked you even harder, the added pressure pushing you straight to the edge. your nails raked down his back, pulling him closer as you kissed him desperately and agreed to everything between broken sounds. "yes, john, i'm yours, cum inside me, please."
his pace turned rougher, balls slapping against you with every stroke, sweat slicking both your bodies as he used the heat of your cunt to burn through every bit of leftover tension from the long day. "good girl, just like that, cum for me while i fill this pussy up."
the orgasm crashed over you hard, body clamping down around his cock as tears slipped down your cheeks from the intensity, and john followed right after, burying himself deep and pulsing hot inside you with a low groan, hips jerking through the aftershocks while he kept you pinned and kissed you through it all. he looked down at you lovingly, you looked so messy and perfect for him. “my beautiful girl..” he whispered as he stroked your cheek.
