#k's masterlist

╰› "Fuck Me Eyes" | Dr. Robby x f!Reader Summary: you and robby sneak off to your favorite spot in the hospital so he can drop to his knees and submit to you. ╰› "Eye Contact" | Dr. Robby x f!Reader Summary: after a long shift, robby comes home, stressed with the intentions of fucking you and demanding you never take your eyes off him. ╰› "Robby's Hoodie" | Dr. Robby x f!Reader Summary: robby gives you his hoodie.

╰› "Choked Up" | Andrew 'Pope' Cody x f!Reader‼️ Summary: you've wanted to fuck andrew for as long as you've known him, and when he finally caves — he gives you a fuck worth dying for.

“I have to-” “Shush, shh, sh.” Your voice is quiet, normally soothing, but the way your breath fans his ear makes everything feel worse. “It’s almost done, ‘kay? Just a little bit more.” You sigh, resting on the warmth under you. 

You’ve been watching this documentary, something about…sports? He can’t do this right now. His whole body was tense in the couch, legs an open space for you to rest between but the curve of your ass is digging into his crotch. It’s been a week since he’s last seen you, touched you even with how he’s been swamped with work and you were both stuck between places. All he did was think of you–crave you, and now that you’re here, he can’t satiate himself since you thought it’d be a good idea to watch–His eyes open back up to meet the flat screen and see what he blanked on.

Shit, he doesn’t know if he’s cursing you or  himself; the documentary is about football and he didn’t even notice. You’re 41 minutes into the film but the only thing he grasped is the title. He’s not even mad that the name of the film is; How to win the world cup, he could laugh about it maybe but you’re making it hard. For him. It’s so hard for him.

 To focus, is what he means. Your hips adjust, shifting in your seat. His hands tense on your thigh, there’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. At this point, that’s him  just trying to cope; he knows the likeliness of you not knowing is high since you’re so focused, it annoys him a bit how you’re so distracted by someone who wasn’t… “Look, it’s you.” You point out with a proud smile. Maybe it’s the lighting but there’s a glint in your eyes as soon as he appears on the screen.  Sometimes, you can’t make it to his games so you watch him through the TV, he knows you do since you text him before every match. And when you do watch him live, he can’t see you while he’s playing. Only now had he noticed the excitement on your fingertips when he feels your nails graze his thigh, or just how big your smile does get when someone praises him. It’s like seeing you for the first time again, maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen you in this light, or maybe it’s because he just misses you so, so , so much, but the urge to not fuck you into the couch right now is getting intolerable.

Your head leans back to rest on his shoulder, full weight on him, hands gripping his thigh to help you lift yourself on him. Unknowingly, your hands move closer to his crotch as they move up–a groan slips from his throat.

He doesn’t miss the small pause your body makes. He’s even worse now, cheeks heated, lips swollen from the bite of his teeth; Kylian looks up at the ceiling with silent prayers in his head while you’re sinking into him like a cushion. Surprisingly, you continue on without a care, watching as the movie unfolds before you. It’s only with the wiggle of your hips that he grabs your waist to halt your movements. He could almost feel the smirk you’re making. “I missed you.” He tries bringing your attention elsewhere. “I can tell.” There’s a smile in your tone. He stutters, “You’re- you’re horrible.” There’s a rude giggle you let out, it’s normally cute, but he’s already thinking of different ways he can get you to shut up. You chide, “How much…”  His brain feels muddled when you roll your hips, unable to fully catch on the words you say. “How much do you miss me Kyky…” You repeat, voice sticky and tantalizing. His hands control the move of your hips, strong and desperate. The tingle in your stomach reverberates to your core, excitement drips on the cotton of your underwear, the nightie you're wearing hiked up to your hips, allowing you to leave a wet patch on Kylian’s sweats. He whimpers almost, “I wanna fuck you into the couch, fuck you till you can’t talk anymore.” “You can’t- You’re the one who can barely talk.” Your words nearly betray you, Kylian’s rocking into your underwear causing it to ride between the mounds of your ass, the hands that were last on your waist now groping your tits. “I’m gonna fuck you till you lose the attitude.” There’s a pause in the air where all movement had stopped.  You break, turning into a mess of whines. It’s like a switch flipped when he straightens his back on the couch, sitting you both up effortlessly. 

His fingers draw a line between the apex of your thighs as he tangles his legs with yours, spreading you open. You’re getting impatient as he trails closer and closer, lips leaving open mouth kisses on your neck to your shoulders.

He pulls your panties to the side, flicking your clit to tease, you’re about to curse him out when you cut yourself off with a pant. His fingers are circling on your clit till it turns hard. It's too much, too quick, but he’s tenacious in his movements–consistent. If he’s like this now, you can barely imagine what he’d be like later. Your hips grind into his lap to retort, but you stop moving when your orgasm suddenly rips through you. You try closing your legs, squirming in his grip but he’s unmoving, you’re open and held to him. Exposed. He doesn’t stop rubbing, your pants turn into mewls, your body wants to grind back but also stay away. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry…” He pauses, a smirk gracing his lips. “I didn’t even fuck you yet.” He almost laughs at your dispair. Slowly he untangles your legs, putting you aside on the couch. There’s an ache between your legs that doesn’t seem to go away. He positions your ass up, you let him, he’s behind you now. You can move your legs yourself, maybe you can even hold yourself up on your elbows, but you don’t find it in you to try. It’s a lewd sight, your wet puffy cunt, aching and clenching at nothing. You’re a puddle when you feel the thick head of his cock prod your entrance, it’s relief and too much at the same time. Kylian groans, his palm bending your spine to arch so he can enter you at an angle, deeper. It’s messy, and rough but it’s also slow. You’re drooling on the couch, your nightie was on the floor with his discarded pants, your underwear–you didn’t even notice he’d taken your underwear off. He’s bottoming out into you and it feels like you’re struggling to breathe.

it’s as if he reads your mind when you feel his fingers grab you by the neck, halting your breath when he pulls you up. His heartbeat is on your back but you’re sure yours is rippling louder than his. You wanna say something, cough, or breathe but you can’t. The lack of air turns you into liquid threatening to slide off flat onto the surface– you can feel pressure but you don’t know if it’s in your head. Whimper stuck in your throat, your fingers tremble, tapping at Kylian’s to tell him you’re on the verge of blacking out.

“Want me to let go?”  His fingers tighten on the sides of your throat, gasps replacing your futile attempts at talking. He leaves a small peck on the side of your forehead, Fine, he says dismissively.

You nearly cum when you breathe out, air filling your lungs and your rotting brain but there's a feeling in your stomach that pauses you in your tracks. The sight underneath you leaves a breathless sob to escape your lips. “Kyky, what did you–” “I let go. Didn’t you want that?” His tone is mocking the same way his hands knead the flesh of your thighs, boasting his ability to breathe with the air fanning your ear, contrast to your stuttered breathing. Kylian groans, he isn’t sure if it’s because your nails are digging into his forearm or from how tight your pussy’s clenching him. You couldn’t believe it. He choked you till he’s completely bottomed out in your stomach. He wipes the tear running down your cheek, “What? Baby thinks it’s too much?” “Mmngh-” His hand is back on your throat, pulling back till he’s completely out of you. He could feel the whine in your throat that escapes with the sudden buck of his hips. The sound of his hips meeting your bounce off the walls of the room. It’s slow and rough and nothing short of dirty. 

Kylian dips his head to meet yours in a kiss. It’s sweet for the most part. His lips are soft and warm against yours, attentive and pliant. But it turns rough when he remembers where he is, he rolls his cock into you again, head brushing the spongy part deep inside you. Kylian swallows your moans with each stutter of his hips.

The only time you part is when you need to take a breather but that seems to be a struggle from the start. “I missed you. Was thinking of you in the plane. Did you, fuck, miss me?” You nod, unable to form any words. He’s laughing in your ear, watching as you grind back to meet his movements. You give no response, just thin gasps, it annoys Kylian–he lets you get off for two seconds and you forget he’s there. He tsks, pinching your clit out of spite, a high whine escapes you, your legs tremble. 

Works are separated by character. Characters with more than five posts have a separate master list. Major content warnings (i.e. pregnancy, death, etc.) are provided but please check each work for more specific warnings.

If you see a [*] symbol, it just means that work is more suggestive.

If a work is listed with "OC | Reader," the 'Reader' is biologically related to an established character (i.e. Maverick's daughter).

OC characters might have an established race/appearance, so check the summary/warnings of that work first.

Top Gun

Nick "Goose" Bradshaw

See Separate Master List

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell

Handyman - Fem!Reader (Wife!Reader)

Summary: When it comes time to give your newborn daughter a bath in the kitchen sink, it conveniently breaks. Fortunately or unfortunately, Maverick is a handyman.

Top Gun: Maverick

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

See Separate Master List

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

See Separate Master List

Javy "Coyote" Machado

A Walk Down Memory Lane - Bradshaw!Fem! OC | Reader

Summary: Rooster and Tweety Bradshaw look through their mom’s belongings as Tweety’s wedding to Coyote approaches.

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Come Here - AFAB!Reader

Summary: You have your period. Fanboy takes care of you.

Family Man - GN!Spouse!Reader

Summary: After a long day at work, Fanboy returns home to complete his most important job: taking care of his family.

Robert "Bob" Floyd

See Separate Master List

Beau "Cyclone" Simpson

The Admirals Strike Back - Wife!Reader (Mitchell!Reader)

CW: Consensual and Very Much Legal Age-Gap Relationship (About 15 years); Non-Traditional Father-Daughter Relationship (Between Maverick and Reader)

Summary: Maverick knew that his somewhat estranged daughter was married. He just didn't know who she married.

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Bleeding Hearts - Male!Bradshaw!Twin!OC (Braedon)

CW: Hospitals; Exes; Unresolved Feelings; Best Friend's Brother

Summary: After the bird strike, Phoenix's ex, who just so happens to be Rooster's twin brother, comes to check up on her.

Daggers (All 7)

THE FAMILY AFFAIRS COLLECTION >

Mav's Reaction to Each of the Daggers Dating His Daughter - Mitchell!Fem! OC | Reader

Summary: Maverick finds out that his daughter is dating someone that he knows when she invites her new partner to dinner. And so he makes it his mission to greet them at the door first.

The Daggers and Their (Secret) Kids

CW: Pregnancy, see warnings for additional specific CWs by Dagger (include Reference Character Death, Strained Relationships, Divorce, etc.)

Summary: Headcanons about the families that the seven Daggers could have had going into TGM with, since there's nothing about their families mentioned in the movie.

The Love Game - Fem!Reader (Glitch)

CW: Unrequited Love; Angst; Emotional Angst; One-Sided Relationship; ‘He’s in Love with Someone Else’ Trope

Summary: Glitch has been in love with Hangman for years but he’s getting married to another woman.

He doesn’t know how long he’d been staring at the ceiling. He wished he was drunk enough to have an excuse for last night, he wished he didn’t remember it so he’d have an excuse for saying the things he did, but when his stare trails your sleeping face, there’s a part of him – a part of him in which he acknowledges as small, is 18 again and picking you up from your first date where you got stood up . He has the same swell in his chest from when you first smiled at him and laughed at a joke he didn’t think was all that funny. Then he remembers how he was put into that position in the first place, and the memory sours.

The small smile that had ghosted his face had disappeared and the hangover he forgot was there had returned. Carefully, he removes you from his chest and lays you gently back on your bed. Only now had he seen the sky, the blue started to be painted with orange. He hasn’t been acknowledging the obvious change in the air.

There was guilt from both sides that was slowly eating him up. He can only think about how this is his best friend’s sister, how Jean trusted him with you. He didn’t wanna start thinking about how this affected you because both of you lost self control. This was both your fault right? Fuck, he can’t think about this now.

He can’t make decisions right now, not when you’re right there. Not when he’s thinking about repeating the same events of last night where he could still smell your perfume. It’s clouding his mind, he can’t think, can’t breathe even. He turns away, quickly buttoning his pants. His clothes and yours were scattered in the room, a reminder of what happened was indeed real did not go along well with his sobering head.

He scurries to find his belt, determined to go and it should’ve been left at that. Maybe he was too loud or maybe you were also a light sleeper but the moment his hand reaches for the door knob, he hears your voice call him. It takes everything in him to not turn around.

You say a bunch of words, but to him it all jumbled up into one blob of syllables as his thoughts tuned everything out. His hand tightens on the doorknob with a shaky breath before saying the first thing on his mind, “I’m sorry about last night.” He wanted to be. He’s sorry to your brother, to you, and for not meaning it. He's sorry he's going to hurt you but he's not sorry for fucking you.

Craning his head up, he’s met with your door, it’s blank and it’s driving him mad that he doesn’t see you. But he can’t, he doesn’t know how to look you in the eye after sleeping with you and just… Everything. It felt so right last night but now he realized how wrong it had been of him to lose his restraint.

His eyes trail around where he is for as far as he can reach, the floor, the boxes on the side, the light switch, and your vanity. It had a big mirror attached with it which unfortunately reached you on the bed, clutching the sheets to your chest, staring at his back. He could see your face. The same face you made when you're trying to keep yourself together. You always made that face when you were younger, holding everything in so you wouldn’t look like a cry baby.

Only you were–but this time, you’re no longer kids. You aren’t crying about sand castles and embarrassing first dates, this was a lot more serious. He’s hurting you, he knows he is. But he thinks that what he’s doing is what’s right–what’s best. He hears you say something again but your voice dies in the air.

“I wasn’t thinking.” He shuts the door on you, leaving no room for any discussion. He’s made his decision. It’s for the best–it has to be, he repeats to himself. *

He’s back in Germany when he gets a phone call from Jean. It’s been nearly a week since his debut game in London, he misses it there, his home and sometimes even the bad weather. It’s not all that different to here but here isn’t home, he supposed to be relaxed, he feels like it’s been ages since he was. He’s brought back to the last time he had relaxed, back there…that morning.

He feels homesick now and he’s thinking about you. Again. A common occasion. He’d like to believe he had been straying a little farther bit by bit but a call from your brother was able to ruin all his resolve that he’d carefully built for a week in a span of less than 10 seconds, none of them had been able to get a word in yet.

He picks up, easier said than he had done. He stared at the screen of his phone while he sat on his couch, a picture of Jean appearing from when he looked a lot younger. Jean’s greeting him, he greets back–it’s all proper yet informal but it didn’t feel relaxed. He put it on speaker since he’s alone and so that he could stare more. Weird that technically he’s looking at a picture of his best friend but he wasn’t thinking of him. If anything he wanted to think of anything but– Jean mentions your name and it grabs Erling’s attention for a split second, he catches something in the lines of how it was nearing his birthday soon. He expects it’s going to lead into a conversation where Jean is talking about who he’d invited before cutting to the chase three or five minutes later, that he’s inviting him. For now however, it’s all hypothetical yet kind of guaranteed. He stays in the call out of kindness, and well he’s in dire need of company other than the thoughts in his head. Again, a flicker of the voice in the other line squeezes a second into his brain, “Are you there?”

Fuck, “Yeah, um- ”

“Right…” There’s a tone in Jeans Erling couldn’t put his finger on, but it’s familiar. But it’s one word, and right now his attention is hanging by a thread. “My birthday is on the 11th but we decided to celebrate earlier considering Mariella is joining us. She said it was a surprise but she….”

Erling hums on the phone as his friend rambles on about how excited he is to once again meet with his long term girlfriend, also long distance. They must have a strong bond to still be going at it for this long with such a great distance between them. Good for them, I guess; he thinks bitterly. His friend’s voice molds into a blur while he stares at the caller ID of Jean.

He does look a lot like you, but you still take after your mother. He can tell because of how you don’t resemble as much of your father either but unfortunately not because he’s met her at all, he had; but only ever once.

*

It was the first summer rain he’s ever experienced in Nice. A summer that has just yet to begin and it does but with a storm by the beach, threatening to strike lightning at any given moment. But he didn’t think much of it, given that the purpose of going to the beach was to swim–one would get soaked either way, so he insisted on going like a stubborn thirteen year old would commonly do.

He repeated questions, whined, and tried his best to appeal to his parents but they were persistent on not spending the day on the beach today. Well, his dad was. He hadn’t spoken to his mother, his father had also been going in and out of their bedroom while he stood in the living room, itching to get his feet kicking the ball in his living room, on some sand perhaps with his friends.

He wants to play, he doesn’t know how many times he told his dad that and usually his dad wouldn’t ever be opposed to him playing, a little drizzle had never stopped him either but today something felt different. He wanted to ask his sister but she too had the same questions as him, so they stayed in for the day, the room he stayed in feeling grayer than the sky that rumbled angrily above them.

–

His mom finally left their room on the next day, it was still raining, albeit a lot lighter. Less thunder, more drizzle, it’s still gray however, the sky and the atmosphere. He looks at his mother’s eyes and she doesn’t meet him but he can tell she’s tired. Had she not gotten enough sleep? She doesn’t look like she was sick.

Erling grumbled to himself when his father told him to dress into the clothes they packed for a special occasion. He thinks sourly; So when mum feels like she’s up to it, that’s when we can do anything.

And it’s still raining. He doesn't understand the logic of why he had to miss a day of playing for something as simple as his mother missing a bit of sleep. It annoyed him a bit. He had tried so hard convincing his dad to go out and play and today when they are given the time to go out, they’re spending it doing something that he doesn’t want to do. He doubts that he’s going to play soccer with Jean in a polo.

His mind wanders, maybe they’re having dinner with Jean’s family, at least he’ll see someone he wanted to see. But he dreaded seeing your face, his best friend’s little sister. The whiny thing that you are. Oh he despised you. It wasn’t one sided hatred either, he doubts it. For someone younger than him he expected you’d have a little respect for him like you do your brother–but no. Every time he says something you look at him as if he’d said something absurd and you’d scrunch your nose every time he walks in; at one point he made it a habit to sniff his clothes before entering a room.

At least there would be Jean. So he crosses his fingers, hopeful to see his best friend today and sneak in a little play time between the moments the adults get lost in conversation giving them leeway to do anything to keep themselves entertained. Finally, something to look forward to.

–

“I thought we were going out?” Erling meets his sister’s face, she just shrugs in response. “Thanks for the info.” They sat at your living area, the sun had gone down. He still doesn’t know why they’re here. He thought he should ask questions or something but no one looks like they even have the appetite to talk. His mother, who’s voice he’s used to hearing bounce off the walls, had oddly enough remained quiet since the walk here.

They entered your house not too long ago either, but he didn’t see either you or your brother. Just your dad and a woman he hadn’t met before who resembled you a bit. Your mother perhaps, was his first thought.

In fashion, he did not say anything opting for the safe route and decided to just keep quiet. It isn’t out of character for him either way, he was a child of a few words especially to people he hasn’t met before. He’ll only ever say anything if his parents openly tell him to do so, but judging by the odds of that with how apparent his mother’s silence has been lately, the chances looks slim. So he guesses it’s another occasion spent in silence, which plummets his mood into mirroring everyone in the room.

It was a comfortable couch, he nearly fell asleep sinking in it. Until he heard the sound of creaking from the stairs, immediately, he straightened his posture. It’s about time Jean showed up, he hasn’t seen or talked to him in ages. Just as he was about to leap off the couch, he saw not his friend, but you, descending from the stairs. To say he was disappointed would be an understatement. He let out a groan that caused his own father to give him a knowing look. Erling, stubborn as he is, proceeds to sulk while crossing his arms. You obviously catch this with how your eyes wander so much, one thing he hates about you but silently amuses him is how you’re always so observant.

“I see you’re here to celebrate with us.” His eyes squinted, he didn’t know about that. Your eyes switch from him then to his fathers, you give him a generic greeting, he didn’t remember much after that. “–Today must be hard for her.” Your voice was soft when you talked to people who weren’t him. He’d care about what you just said, but he cares a lot more about how your tone with him was way more different–plain impolite. It was annoying how you can get inside his head at times.

Obviously, you two don’t get along. Every time he talks, you want to punch his face. You even once told him, as blatantly as possible, that his face would look good with your fist. Every time you talk he wishes for two seconds that a train or a car would pass you by and deafen anything you say. Anytime you two are put in a room together it ends in insults and sometimes injury. He doesn’t expect tonight to be any different.

Before he could get anymore lost in thought, he hears another set of feet go downstairs. Thankfully it’s the right familiar face. Only this time he’s looking down. He goes up to Jean, a hand on his back. “Long time no see,” He greeted, only to be returned with nothing more than a weak greeting back. They did, however, enter the dining area together.

  –

It was time for dessert when they brought a cake out. He thought this was a relaxed semi formal thing, not someone’s birthday. And who’s birthday was it even? He’d already finished eating and he still doesn’t know what they were doing.

He asks his best friend right across from him, “Who’s birthday is it?” He looked over to the cake. There was only one candle, only adding to the ambiguity of the event. Jean didn’t say anything, only staring blankly at the white frosted cake laid in front of them, the blue candle shortening by the second. He thought today would be a different day, excited as he was earlier to see and maybe play with his friend who right now looks too tired to even tell him what’s going on. If only they went out yesterday maybe they could’ve played. He was bored out of his mind, and when he sees his best friend for what feels like ages, he couldn’t even enjoy it because his mother had stayed up late in the summer for some reason.

“She doesn’t even work” he recalls to himself when his eyes shift to his mom who’s mood seemingly livens up, his however sours this time, a huff escapes him as he crosses his arms. There’s still chatter in the air for whatever reason, he didn’t care. Even worse, he was placed beside you. His plans to relax had been disrupted and only when it seems like things couldn’t get worse, you have the genius idea of starting a conversation with him.

“What’s the matter with you?” Erling’s eyes roll sideways to your direction unnecessarily slow, obviously irritated for a reason you did not know. “Oh, I forgot I was looking at your face.” You give him a sarcastic smile. He lets out an offended noise, annoyed by how you always feel the need to say something about him. Erling runs out of time to mask his appallment with an insult so he huffs and sits back onto his chair, arms crossed over the other.

“Mind your own business, It’s not you I’m mad at.”

“Oh so you do speak. It was almost peaceful.”

“The you shouldn’t have asked–” He cuts himself off when he lets out another one of his familiar noises, “I wish my mum didn’t have to drag us to this stupid dinner. She could’ve been fine going on her own…She doesn’t need anyone to–” His voice cuts he expected to see you maybe annoyed at least but instead your eyes are watery. Did he raise his voice or something? Well, he thought he’d been quiet even if he’s obviously letting his frustrations on you.

He’s shocked obviously, not expecting that he’d make you cry. He didn’t know that you were that sensitive, maybe it’s because you’re a bit younger than him? Either way you had a lot to say for a child. Always coming up with something new to insult him, how is it that right now you couldn’t? You’re quiet for a moment, and he just stares, clueless to what he’d done to get you to react in such a way. He hears you let out a shaky breath before clearing your throat, “You- you shouldn’t talk about your mom that way.”

Again, he's blank. This isn’t the first time you had cried because of him, sure the other times he took a little pride in but he didn’t have the intention of doing so now. Especially not at the dinner table in front of people. Good thing you looked away from your parents. Not really for Erling though, he felt something sort of new wash over him, guilt maybe? He’s not sure this time. But it’s similar to the first time you cried, only now you weren’t pouting at him or big eyed, your hand held your face, the other balled into a tight fist.

  “Wait…don’t–”

You quickly look up at him, letting out a disgruntled huff and leaving the table swiftly. Jean didn’t seem to care but it seems his own parents maybe did considering how they were eyeing him with a look that screamed, “What did you do?”

He groaned, excusing himself out of the table and followed you up the stairs. He walked in your hallway, looking door to door until he reached the last room. He quietly pushes the door with a slow twist of the knob, hoping you don’t hear.

  Your back is facing him.He was sure this wasn’t your room with how small you looked on the king sized bed. And this room looks too old for your taste; the walls were too dark and the furniture was too un-themed.

Maybe you felt someone watching you because you gasp when you see Erling standing not a yard away from you. Again, silence from both of you, just the occasional sniffle that you let out from your runny nose.

He decided he should start despite not knowing what to go off from, “Why did you…cry?”

You respond, nasally “Your mom,”

Erling, who was previously leaning on the door frame, was now standing. “What?”

“You shouldn’t be so hostile when–” Sniffle, “You talk about your mom.”

“Oh… why do you care so much?” Were you close or something? Did he offend you? It’s not like he was making his voice loud that she’d hear what he said at all. He walked quietly over to where you sat, for a second your smaller palm opened and he caught a small glimpse of something white-ish.

“Nevermind me, They are eating the cake without us.” You stood up in haste, he saw your face again. Your eyes were bloodshot, if you went down looking like that, it wouldn’t get his parents off his back. You were in such a rush he had to grab you by your arm, the touch immediately stops you.

“I’m not even mad at her you see, I-I love my mum. It is just because going here felt pointless. I don’t even know what it’s for.” He tried feigning a laugh only for the chuckle to disappear when your face darkened.

“It’s maman’s birthday.” You reply sternly, the shift in your voice apparent–hostile.

“I don’t think I’ve properly seen her? Is she the lady downstairs? The one who looks like you? She doesn’t look like Jean–”

“That is because she isn’t here. You’re probably talking about my aunty.”

“I don’t understand.”

You’ve already turned to look at him this time, your brow arched at him. “When was the last time you’ve seen my mom in the many times you’ve seen me?”

“I told you, I’ve never met her–” Oh.

That must be why you’re so sensitive about mothers. Now he really sounded like a prick.

“I’m sorry…I didn’t think that this was all that bad, wh- the cake is probably good.” He offered you a sheepish smile while you returned it with a blank face. The silence was loud and Erling couldn’t help but feel more humiliated.

Not only by how he talked to you but how he acted towards his mother the past two days. He’s heard her say many great things about your mom. Come to think of it, they must’ve been good friends.

You start to laugh at him now, maybe you realize how stupid he looks. It makes him flushed that he looks down at his shoes, crossing his arms in the process. He didn’t interfere because at least you weren’t crying anymore.

That was until you did start crying again. He looks up then walks closer to you. “Uh, what-”

“You are so,” Hiccup, “-Stupid.” Your palms were pressing on your eyes, the same feeling he feels but only around you.

“I'm- no, You look stupid.” He’s not much with comforting people, but he did know how to get your mood to change all the time. So when you look at him with glossy eyes but with that familiar crinkle in your forehead, he lets out a light sigh of relief.

You sigh, “Just…be nice to your mom, today’s probably hard for her.”

“A lot harder than on you?”He knew your answer when he heard you go quiet. He also knew any second now you were about to blow into full hysterics, so he did what he thought best and pulled you into him, your throat hitches.

  It was a rather stiff embrace at first, he even patted your head until he slowed, bringing his hand down when you just kind of…melted into him. It helped that he was 5’5 this young, he’d completely engulfed you. It’s warm and welcoming to you, and Erling has never been welcoming to you. That thought is completely shattered when you feel his arms tighten around you, your head burying deeper, as if you were trying to hide from the world. He was the last person you thought of ever acting this way towards but you couldn’t care less; you felt safe–protected in a way. Your ear was on his chest as it beat faster by the second, you only wished he didn’t feel yours do the same.

The bubble bursts when you hear someone calling for both of you downstairs. He remembered you splitting apart so quickly that one would miss it if they blinked. But he didn’t and he saw the frantic look in your eyes, looking around the room for some three seconds before settling to just put the thing you held into his hand. The touch is warm, and fleeting yet he feels the ghost of your skin as he keeps his hand mid air. He remembered the feeling when you left the room, the shameful longing he felt. There’s a split second he’s allowed to regain consciousness and peak at the object in his hand, it’s a shell. Before he could think more about it, the voice called again,

*

“ARE YOU COMING OR NOT.” Erling blinks, another thing to add to the list of what he’s been doing lately is zoning out. “Do I have to say it all again?”

He takes a deep breath, “No. Please no… Who will be there?”

  “Why does that matter? You have to go.”

Of course he has to. And why is he asking anyways, it’s not like he’s counting on the one in a hundred chances that you would choose not to attend your own brother's birthday. He groans, “Yes, I’m going.”

“Perfect!” A brief silence passed, “can I… ask you to do me a favor ,” Erling sighs, “Just this once mate–”

  He cuts Jean off, “what is it?”

“You know me and Mariella might sneak off into the night-” Another groan, “Let me finish! I just don’t want to ditch my little sister, you know? Part of why I called is to ask you to just… look after her. For me? You guys are friends, no?”

“You and I both know that is a lie.”

“Okay, fair.” Before he could intervene, Jean adds with a hopeful tone, “But you, uh, Talked? Last time, yes?”

  The bed creaks, and your short breaths turn into moans, echoing louder after every buck of his hips. You’re trying to find purchase on his arms, already on edge from a while ago. “I need…I’m close,”

  “Well, yeah…” He thinks of a generic excuse, one that’s easily believable and will hopefully get Jean to lay off him. “She’s so loud around me. And rude? You know this since we were still kids-”

“I know that but you're the only person I could think of that she’s comfortable enough to do that with '' Jean waited for a reply, the silence being so prominent that it sounded like he didn’t need an answer. “Look, my dad won’t be able to make it since he caught a cold from the rain or something of the sort and I don’t think any of her girlfriends are coming either and it would mean a lot if you’re there to keep her company while I’m not. As a birthday gift, give me nothing else… Si’l te plait?” He pleaded and still, the other line was silent. “Unless…you have something to tell me?”

  Erling didn’t even have to hear twice, “NO. No. Of course not.”

“Okay! Good. Don’t wear a tracksuit. Thanks again mate.”

  Before Erling could get another word in, he heard the dial tone first.

  His mind was silent as he stared at the tall ceiling of his bedroom. It’s gray and blank, the walls painted by the darkness in his room. He blows a breath into the air, his head bounced on his mattress, repeating to himself the last thing he heard from the conversation.

It’s not like he said you had to talk to each other. He just said to look after you. And he can look after you. From a distance of course. Erling didn’t admit it to himself and admitting was never his strong suit in the first place, but he wasn’t worried about distancing himself from you, it was how long he could keep at it sober.

  –

  It’s a more tame gathering than he expected. He didn’t know what to wear after coming out of the shower. He didn’t know why he was so worried in the first place. Outfits weren’t something Erling had put much thought in and even in events it’s not him who dresses himself, it’s his mom or someone that his team hires for him. Usually, he uses the same rotation of clothes he has; the ones that were conveniently fresh out of the dryer and it’s never really that interesting from there.

Aside from a while ago when he spent an hour looking through his closet for a specific shirt that he knew he had but seemed to have misplaced. Afterwards he took a bath which took thirty minutes in the bathroom, then he decided to blow dry his hair and actually comb it which was another fifteen minutes before dressing up which took twenty something minutes then he made it here to the venue which is–

You get the idea. He took Long. Part of him did it because he was stalling, the other part was quietly because he knew you’d be there. It didn’t surprise him that he had run a little late because of London traffic, something he didn’t miss. But what did surprise him is how he was indeed late but it seemed as though there had only been four or 6 people there. Some he seen but don’t know, the other’s he’s talked to but aren’t close to at all, not long after he spots Mariella with Jean who holds a glass of wine with the biggest grin, he turns back, his eyes scan the room twice and he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for.

There’s a tap on his shoulder that gets his attention. Again, he turns but this time with a hopeful expression which plummets as soon as it arrives, disappointment apparent on his features. “At least pretend you’re excited to see me.”

Erling mocks a scowl, “Happy birthday, mate.” He hands Jean a box, a gift he unadmittedly put little thought to, his excuse being his best friend has never given him a good gift and that he has other birthdays to make up for it.

His friend returned a smile, saying something along the lines of not having to get him anything, inherently he disagrees and it’s small talk that they mutually itched to get away from at the moment.

That was about thirty minutes ago already. Thirty minutes after he arrived, he had talked to four different people, Jean included; two of which asked for a photo, one who was a server, but he still hasn’t seen you after finishing his second drink. He looks at the empty glass, counting the scratches he could spot and he hears the party–dinner or whatever, starts to grow louder. Out of curiosity he cranes his neck up to look at the entrance, the bar stool giving him extra height despite him obviously not needing it.

There’s a tightness in his chest and his pants when it’s your back that meets his eyes. Your dress ends over your knees, the neckline meets under your collarbone, but the back is more than generous—cut ending just above your hips, hugging you in the right places. He stops himself from groaning out loud, the dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination at all. His eyes followed the line of your spine, If you pulled it any lower he’d be met with the dimples on your back. It’s fresh in his mind, the memory of his fingers padding over them like buttons, moving your hips to meet his.

Quietly, he curses to himself, he thought this would be easier sober. Then again it’s you he’s thinking about, nothing is easy when it comes to you. If anything, it’s hard. So…much…harder.

“There you are!” Erling lets out a noise.

“Mate! God, please– don’t–Just stop doing that. Please.” He pleaded, guilt and nervousness merging in his stomach. Jean tilted his head before lightly punching Erling on the arm.

“So cranky and you’ve only talked to me twice tonight?” Erling apologizes, “I’m just messing with you!” Jean’s laugh echoes, it’s louder than normal is what he notices first, but he’s glad he’s here given that he’s finally distracted from something that wasn’t you. Jean leans in closer to his ear, “You remember our agreement?”

Subconsciously, Erling’s eyes move to the doorway you just entered, the noise has transferred so he isn’t surprised you’re already gone. He nods, staring at the empty space. “Yeah, of course man.”

They talk for a while with drinks in hand but they both leave the bar area shortly after, courtesy of the dazed man coaxing him to socialize and begun introducing him to other people before he could agree.

  It’s the sixth time tonight Erling switches tables, nonetheless he’s given a break when he’s introduced to Jean’s work friends and Mariella takes the man away leaving him with people he barely knew. There’s an empty seat with a jacket splayed on it, someone must be in the restroom or out for air.

His attention is back to the eager yet cautious people staring at him. They’re polite and young, all seeming quite hesitant or shy around him. It all starts with small talk, before one of them gives in and moves onto the topic of football. It’s all easy from there, mostly talking and less drinking but he steals a sip from here and there when the others are already ordering seconds and thirds. He remembered why he was here in the first place. Not the party, but in the booth. He needed a distance to watch you from. Erling’s eyes wander. It’s a small pub they rented, and it’s all very relaxed. Everyone looks like they’ve had a drink or two save for the bartender and the servers. His eyes scan subtly around the area, silently praying you wouldn’t catch him staring knowing that if you did, it would be beyond humiliating.

He sees the shape of your black dress in the distance, the same bar he left earlier with your brother. It’s vague in his peripherals his eyes finally catch a good look at you. This time, your face was the one in site, but you weren’t alone. You were laughing at something someone told you, most likely the gentleman that blocked part of your body. There’s a weak feeling in him that’s getting more and more hard to ignore when he sees the man graze his hand on your bare arm. You smile nervously but from his view it looked like encouragement, the grip Erling has on his glass bottle tightening. If it were a flute, it’d snap in half; he’s sure. Subtlety was completely out of the question. He watches–no, scrutinized every move you made, and in that process found no fault in your flaws–Your blushing face, it was probably the alcohol; your glossy droopy eyes, it’s probably the light. It’s frustrating. The chatter feels louder, the clink of glasses seemed to echo and multiply, the booth he sat in felt even more confined.

A bottle of champagne pops, the sound rippling through him like he’d been hit square in his head with the cork that popped from the bottle. But it takes his attention away from you, it takes everyone’s attention away. It’s loud. There’s cheering, and even more chatter. He looks back after a second and now there's a hand palming your back, the same back he had arched so good for him and it’s, for lack of better word, driving him insane.

You turn back, hair swaying, your face is flushed and your head is a lot more bobbly, shaking slightly at something he said; You’re giggling but you aren’t laughing. He knows how you laugh, he’s seen it, the real one, you’re supposed to scrunch your face and have a hard time finishing your sentences. The man steps closer to you. Erling watches, only getting tenser by the second. You’re putting your arms around yourself, it is cold and he doesn’t know why you picked that dress. You look stupid in this weather.

–

You are stupid.

Your eyes are searching around the room, palms rubbing your shoulders as you try your hardest to find an excuse to no longer entertain the man in front of you.

You don’t know why you thought it was a good idea. All you wanted to do was to get anything from him, a reaction even. It’s petty but it’s enough to make you sleep a little better at night. You were supposed to come here with a plan but now everything seems so hazy, the plan you’d set was getting more difficult to follow through with all the noise and commotion, the cork popping out of nowhere added to it. You knew tonight there was a possibility you would see him, despite that, to the last second before you walked in; you were still reaching for the possibility you wouldn’t be there. But alas, he was. He sat on a bar stool, phone in hand as he nursed a bottle of beer. You catch yourself staring, immediately, you look away. Unbeknownst to you, if you had stared any longer you wouldn’t be the only one caught.

Now there’s a hand on your back–you’re uncomfortable but you brought this upon yourself and your plan seemed to not have been working because Erling is nowhere near the bar you last saw him in, the bar you're now sat in. If your plan didn’t work, embarrassingly enough, you should at least safely back away from it. So with your remaining pride, you turn, a nervous smile plastered on your face.

The guy that’s bothering you isn’t bad looking, that’s the reason why you seized the opportunity to use him…in a way– You can’t even comprehend what you’re doing, the flush of your cheeks only turning redder.

  There’s hands on your hips this time, and it irritates you even more. “Come on, we can go to my car-”

“I-I’m sorry, Aaron-”

“It’s Arnold,” He corrects,

  “Yeah,um, I’m…I don’t-” This guy, despite your obvious discomfort, still finds reason to let his hand wander closer to the string of your top. “Can you not do that?” You push at his chest, enough to push him back a little along with his hands falling off you, his drunken steps already uncoordinated to begin with. His face is shocked for a second before his face twists into something distrustful. He walks over, his cold grip is on you, tugging you closer by the wrists, your hands tremble slightly.

“I was being really patient with you.” He smells of whiskey and other alcohol, the tightness on your arm makes you want to vomit all the more.

There’s a presence behind you, it’s warm and familiar but it causes your throat to close up.

  The stranger in front of you cranes his neck a bit to look Erling in the eyes, you can see how his shifted, a lot more frantic and a lot less confident. “Ah, So you’re the big lad?”

Erling stares him down, “Leave or I’ll throw you out myself.”

Your eyes are wide, unblinking but soon you let out a breath when Arron–Arnold leaves. But you don’t turn around. In fact you’re looking down at your shoes, leaning against the bar when you start feeling a lot more dizzy.

Erling doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know what came over him to be so hostile, but he’s glad he did. He saw the trouble looked on your face while you were trying to squirm around from that…ick. He’s mad at the guy but he’s also mad at you for even selling yourself short like that, he didn’t understand why. It made his mind race just thinking about the numerous things he could’ve done to that guy if you weren’t watching. He hated how that man thought he had any right to just touch you like that, it made him sick. But he also knew he didn’t have a right to be mad that anyone else touched you, even looked at you aside from him, the final thought stops him in his place.

He has a lot of things to say. But he doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t know if he should look at you, or if he should wait till you say anything at all. From where he stood he could see from above your head since you were sat, looking down and picking at your nails. He knows you’re ignoring him, so with a huff he spins you in the bar stool, the motion causing your head to as well. You’re frozen in your seat, the thoughts running in your head multiplying its weight even more.

You’re contemplating to yourself; the least you can do is look at him, he saved you after all, right? From something that you did to yourself, you recall. Again, it’s both your eyes, staring like it's the first time you've seen each other. They meet, it’s pulling and it soothes you( regretfully so) that he’s here. In front of you. But you hate him. You hate how you know they soften when you look back at him because he does it without knowing, dating back to when you were much younger.

Erling thinks you look the most beautiful like this, wide eyed and vulnerable. He knows that it's bad that he likes you to be but to him, it’s more than that. You look so fragile, you’re precious and it kills him knowing that you are reckless and made out of glass. This is the closest he’s been to you in weeks, this is the closest both of you have been in weeks. He wants to hold you but he can barely graze your fingers, you want to push him but you also want to get closer till you’re pressed against each other.

None of you say anything, it’s just a staring contest waiting for the first one who blinks–buckles and gives in. Last time it was him, this time it was you. Your mouth opens and closes, you look down at your knees again, it’s mute for a while till your voice echoes out finally, dry and shaky.

“He–I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry,” You apologize, he doesn’t know for what; he isn’t sure, but his face twists. “I just thought it would be a good idea since you…” There are tears that are brimming your eyes, overwhelmed with humiliation and him just being there. It makes your voice crack but you swallow, Erling doesn’t miss it. “I’m glad you were here.”

Again, silence from both of you. You expect him to reprimand you, call you stupid like he always does, maybe throw in a joke about how you don’t think before you act but he’s putting his hand on your wrist, lifting it to himself carefully. “You want some ice on this?”

The crescent shapes on your wrists are now puffy and red, you wince at the sight. “I’ll manage. The bartenders are out right now so I don’t…” Your voice fades when you spot Erling digging his hand in a crystal glass, barely fitting three fingers in. He takes the largest ice in the lot, his fingers wet and cold. Your breath hitches when the ice touches your skin, it’s messy and sensual yet also gentle. Your eyes finally find the courage to look at him. He’s closer to you now and you are quiet yet again, both focused on your wrist as he drags the ice on your skin. “It’s dripping, Haaland.”

The hand holding yours is tense as those words slipped your mouth but he continues to smooth over skin as the ice melts, shrinking by the minute. “It’s okay, it’s not like I’m returning the ice, right? Besides, you’ve had enough to drink tonight.”

You shift in your seat, he’s still focused on your wrist. “I can handle my alcohol fine, thank you very much.” The tone you set is more stern this time, the ice dripping on the furnished floor was just cooling your heated skin at this point.

“You were two minutes away from getting into something horrible?”

“Oh and you’re so good with self restraint.”

“What?” Now he looks at you with his brows knitted, Erling’s thrown off by the distance. You’re really close, too close that he has to back up even if he wants you closer.

“What is this…?” You whisper. He’s paused, searching your eyes. “You’re nice to me when it’s convenient then leave when you regret me?”

“I–”

“You didn’t even call, you just left. Do you even remember anything from that night. I fucking gave myself to you. I wanted to. Doesn’t that mean anything?” The words spilled out your mouth, ironic how you talk about self restraint.

It might’ve been the alcohol talking, or maybe it was really you unraveling. You wait, desperate for any exchange of words from him, that would be more than he can say in the weeks you haven’t heard his voice.

But he’s silent, staring at you trying to find the right words but they’re all caught in his throat. You’re the only person that can get him like this.

“Do you really have nothing to say?” You wait, truly wait , desperate. You wait until your eyes are watering, you aren’t crying, you tell yourself; it’s like that because you haven't blinked. You wait until it feels like it’s just the two of you in the room and the commotion dies out in your ears. There’s a sigh you left out despite it having to fight itself from passing through your closing throat. The tightness in your chest is there again, and so are the tears that were brimming your eyes only this time you fight to keep them in. For a minute you search for your handbag, silently wishing that if you stalled just a little longer maybe Erling would say something, do anything. But he’s just watching you. There’s a churning in your stomach that makes you feel humiliated and for the last time you promise yourself that you’re done with finding conflict in silence.

Your reach for the black handbag, finally spotting it on the chair behind you, tugging your left hand that’s still in his grip. “You can let go now, the ice melted.” There's nothing behind your voice but your heart feels like bursting. His lips part slightly but you ignore it, you don’t want to let the light in your chest even flicker, to let him get your hopes up again.

  You tug again but the grip he holds becomes tighter, you let out a frustrated noise, “What is it?”

“I love you.” You pause, it’s like the wind was knocked out of you.

Today felt like a contest of who could bring someone to a lack of words but you might just let him have this one. You stutter, “Erling you can’t just–”

“Love you?”

“Say that...” He tries to argue but you cut him off, “You can’t just give me hope because you feel like this now then be unsure the next day-”

Tugging again, he's holding on– you're stagnant. “On your mum’s birthday I upset you and it was the first time I saw you cry for something that wasn’t shallow.” You’re offended and confused, before you interject you stop yourself wanting to hear what he says.

“I knew I was the reason you were crying in the first place and I knew I hurt you and it–I hated knowing I did that to you. That was the first time you were ever close to me too then you left and all I wanted was to be closer…to you.”

His fingers pad through the vein of your wrist and dragging up to your palm, he holds it like he’s holding the world. You both observe, his hand was much larger than yours. “I wanted to be close to you then, and I still do. Despite the amount of times I’ll do the opposite; I wanted you, I think I always will”

You swallow thickly, “I hate you.” He knows you mean your words, so does he. He reaches for your face, guiltily you lean into him. “It’s your fault I’m here, you know.”

“I know, I’m stupid.”

“No–like, I did this to get you here, but it didn’t work out. Sort of. I wanted to get you’re– I wanted attention, okay?” You admit bashfully, head bumping on his chest. He laughs whole heartedly.

“Oh? You wore this for me too?” His hand left yours only to travel to your back. It’s cold and you puff your chest out with a gasp. It drags across your spine, he watches your reaction with deep eyes and a smirk. You may be able to get inside his head, but he can mess up yours even for just a second.

“Erling, people will see.” In his grip you squirm, pressed against him. He doesn’t really know if people would, since it’s hard to see the edge of the bar from the main area. He did only spot you here because he searched specifically for you, and if people actually did, he could care less.

“So you only want me to show you?” You look up at him, doe-eyed and nervous with a touch of excitement. He’s closer to your ear, his breath is warm but it sends goosebumps to your skin. He repeats, “Do you want me to show you?”

–

You took a taxi to your home, this time he’s the one who’s more aware. It was awkward at first when you both walked into your flat, knowing that it didn’t hold a good record for any memories you shared together in it. With a reassuring smile, you let him in. The tension is thawed when he bumps himself in one of the arches on the ceiling. You laugh at him and he groans, holding a palm over his temple. You didn’t have ice but you had a cooling eye mask for him to hold on his head while you sat him on your couch. You’re about to walk into your room to change when his hand holds onto yours, refusing to let you leave so easily.

Instantly, you try to argue but his fingers are slowly pulling at the ribbon that ties your top up. He looks up at you waiting for any kind of disapproval but his restraint crumbles when he sees your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Can you turn around?” Erling opened his legs wide enough so you could slot yourself between them and like he requested, you turned with your back facing him. His touches are barely on your skin, but it set your body on fire. Like a present he unravels you, you feel the laces graze your back. “Let it go, baby.” Erling refers to your hands clutching the top to your chest, hesitantly you do. He guides your arm to spin you back to him, and he looks at you with blue eyes that still look bright in the dark.

You’re shy over his gaze, eyes looking anywhere but him. Erling lays a kiss on your navel, hands inching the remains of your dress hanging lowly on your hips till the material drops on the ground. You gasp when he pecks your breast, mouth lingering on the flesh while he’s looking up at you. His breath is hot on your chest, “ Don’t act all shy on me now…” You look down at him, chest heaving as you watch him suck slow wet kisses till he reaches your other breast. Your lip might just cut if you hold onto it longer so with release, you let out a small whimper when he kneads your ass.

He’s venal now that you’re bare, he knows your body from every dip to every curve. Erling sits up a little, you help him out of his shirt, discarding the fabric on the ground. Backing up on the couch, he holds the back of your legs, inviting you to himself.

You settle on his lap, your knickers rubbing against his tensed thighs. Impatiently you grind to rile him up, the hands on your waist tighten, you can feel how hard he was from the action alone. His jaw locks, and his nose flares; He won’t last long, he knows it.

Your smile however leaves as soon as it arrives. Roughly, Erling manhandles you thigh before jerking his knee up and down, your clip rubbing on your thin underwear and the denim of his pants. It was his turn to smile, watching as you came undone on his knee, his hands moving you against him. Your moans are small and your hips are rolling on his leg at his mercy. It’s stickier by each stroke but you don’t want to come, not yet. You try to hold it in till you’re pushing at his chest, he knows what you’re doing. You feel dread wash over you. The lamp in your living room is bright enough for Erling to get a glimpse of your knickers being swallowed between your cunt, swollen and glistening with slick.

“I’m– please, please go easy– Not yet–” Your words bubble into a moan when his thumb finds your clit, you have no choice but to grind back, folding for him.

“You like this, no? Getting off on my thigh and begging. Do you even know what you are begging for? ” He humors himself looking at your fucked out eyes, his thumb unfaltering. Your hips are erratic, falling into Erling with your head between his neck and his bare shoulder, your little moans are pitiful, almost panting with each ‘ah’ that escaped you.

“Can I? Please? I wanna, I wanna cum.” He urges you to keep grinding with his other hand on your waist, his knee now jerking up your cunt again, chasing your release for you.

“You think you deserve it?” he caresses your jaw, your neck already sweating. You whimper into his neck, babbling nonsense. “So good for me…” He mumbles, supposedly to himself but you hear it. It makes you flutter even more, grinding even harder onto him.

He feels your wetness seep into his skin, he hears you getting even more vocal now and before you reach the pinnacle of that relief, he stops moving altogether. You whine, and he coos at you, brushing the hair on your face. “Poor baby…”

You sink on him, shoving his arm lightly with a weak fist. “You fucking suck.” Your voice is muffled on him, he laughs– it makes you giggle, and it almost removes the ache on your core.

“Thought you didn’t want to come?” You scoff at his playful tone while he’s busy adjusting you till you straddle him, it’s more comfortable. On both of you. Less tension. You're both closer, your arms wrapping around his neck instead of just hanging loosely but your head’s still in the same place only this time your entire weight is on him. He hears you let out a deep breath, ”You okay?” He asks, planting a soft kiss on your hair.

You nod, returning the kiss on his lips. There’s nothing else he needed to hear, it was more either of you could say. From what was slow, deep, loving kisses turned into a needier and sloppier exchange. You’re on top of him, hands pulling at his hair causing him to groan in your mouth. His tongue swipes on your lips, before trailing his kisses on your neck and sucking. Your back arches into him while his teeth leave a love bite on the skin of your shoulder, he wants to devour you almost.

Erling’s pants are discarded at this point, your underwear now lying somewhere in the dark of your living room, you’ll see it in the morning, probably.

  Erling groans in you ear, “Just like that.” Your legs are tense, slowly lowering yourself on the man under you. He’s soothing your sides as you lower yourself. With all your grit, you bottom out the rest of his size, breathing through your teeth and whimpering. “Such a good girl.”

He sees the expression on your face, brows knitted like you’re struggling to even breathe. He helps you raise your hips halfway off his cock, you blow a breath before sliding back down, a moan slips from your throat and Erling groans at the sight of your cunt swallowing him. It’s slow at first until you find your rhythm, rising and taking his cock in you over and over again until your legs feel like giving out. “Erling, I need– mmnh– help.”

You’re slowing down and Erling rushes to take over on your behalf. The change in pace is instant considering the difference in your stamina, Erling obviously being the one more fit. He’s barreling into you from under, it leaves you breathless for a second until you’re moaning loudly and holding onto him. You want to say something, tell him how good he’s making you feel but any sound you make turns into a moan or a whimper. He’s more vocal now, more breathy. You reach for his face till you finally meet in a kiss, it’s sloppy and foiled, moaning into each other’s mouths.

His fingers drag higher up the side of your waist then he pushes it forward to meet his hips. The angle is new but it sets something in you. Your cry out into his lips and break the kiss, your nails dragging from his hair to his back. There’s a shadow on your abdomen with a slight bulge, it sends his ego completely through the roof. His hips buck into you much faster, you feel his hand drag from your side to your navel, than lower–flat against where the pudge on your tummy ends and presses down. You shudder, knees trying to close on his lap but his legs are spreading you open. He’s rolling his hips into you, he wants it deeper. Your palms lay flatly on his chest as a sign of surrender, you’re whispering praises into the air when he starts fucking you faster. The couch had probably been ruined with how wet you were, he could hear it from how loud your skin slapped against each other. You meet him for another kiss, “I need to cum, Please.”

“Just a little longer, love.” He begs, equally as lost as you. The pet name doesn’t slip your ears. “You’ve been so good for me, just a little longer, yeah?” His words are hot and breathy on your ear, chasing for his own release as his hips grow even more erratic. You underestimated his stamina completely. You feel like a ragdoll, but to Erling it’s erotic the way you just let him do anything to you when you’re fucked out, holding onto for dear life.

You know he’s about to cum when he’s groaning even more in your ear, hips bucking deeper and faster. You’re already overstimulated holding in your release, your tears spill on the corner of your eye. You’re aching at this point, mewl in the air. “Cum in me, Erling. Please– Let me, I wanna cum… I wanna cum too.” Meeting his hips this time, you’re both getting more and more impatient, his nails digging into the flesh of your ass.

“Fuck–” He catches your lips as you cry, bringing you to your orgasm, finally. You spasm on top of him , gasping shakily when he spills inside of you, feeling more full than ever, his cock still sliding in and out of you until you both ride out your highs.

You flail on top of him, tired and used up. You both were. His hands are running up and down your back soothingly, you don’t even question it. You lay with your ear on his chest, his heart beating faster now that it's more intimate, a part you wishes he’d known yours is doing the same.

–

The next morning your legs feel empty when you’re trying to get up from your bed. Erling brought you there after cleaning you up but you’d still felt messy in the morning. Nervously, you turn to see if he was still there. Warmth washes over you when you’re met with his blonde hair and his bare back. Knowing he’s asleep, you try your best to leave him quietly but he feels the dip of the bed when you swing your legs out of the covers. His eyes pry open, you don’t miss the quirk of his lips. Good morning, he says. You’re blushing just looking at him and you don’t know why.

He follows you to the shower, you tell him you’re sore so he opts for just making out with you. He can’t keep his hands off you anymore after that, always chasing to grab your hand if you’re about to leave his side.

You cook breakfast, he helps you clean up, you have sex. His hands are greedy and everywhere, making up for lost time. You’re back to your bed, laying on his chest with your body between his legs, his fingers running up and down your arm. When his hand reaches yours he lifts it to himself and gives you a kiss on your knuckles. You’ve seen each other naked but it’s these things that make you blush.

  “Come to my next game.” He says, out of nowhere. It’s silent aside from both your heavy breathing but you’re also taken aback.

“What..? like in public?” Your eyes flutter up at him, watching as he stays fixed gazing on the ceiling.

“Well yeah- unless you don’t... If you don’t want to, it's fine.” There’s a surge of worry that takes over his eyes. You adjust in your place to meet his eyes, this is probably the only time you’ll ever be taller than him, you think to yourself.

  Now you’re straddling him, he can’t help but look your way. “You want me to go?” Again, you’re surprised trying to see if he was sure of himself.

“That’s why I’m asking, you arse.” In turn he pinches your bum weakly, you squeal and smack his chest, he laughs in turn.

“You’re all about admitting to things lately, I’m enjoying it.” Erling rolls his eyes when you present him with a cheeky grin.

“Sometimes I get cocky, I have to humble myself more often.” You’re staring again–you do it a lot, but only for him.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling, “I love you too,” You admit. He didn’t expect you’d say it back, he said it yesterday because it’s how he felt but it catches him off guard. He’s about to say it too when you meet his lips with a sweet kiss. It’s you and him, always is, always was.

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