justlillythinking - Tumblr blog

justlillythinking · 5 months

Text

Movement

pairing: mike schmidt x afab!reader

summary: a double date that leads to mike schmidt coming home with you in the name of "helping your friend" and he ends up fucking you.

warnings: unprotected sex, no foreplay, creampie??, female pronouns, slight degrading??, pet names, heavy cussing, mike being hashtag v hot, no established relationship, porn with no plot, not proofread

word count: 2.1k words

author’s note: listen to movement by hozier for the full experience!!! I know this fic wasn't voted to be the first mike one to be posted but I had to do it okay!!!! he's so hot n sexy in this and i need him badly...please enjoy! mwah!

Your eyes scanned the restaurant in front of your car, you were promised a very nice dinner with a very nice man and the place you ended up might as well have been a denny’s. Gia somehow managed to rope you into a double date and as the amazing friend you are, you obliged. Now, you wanted to take it back. If the guy you were set up with wasn’t just an absolute heartthrob you might consider strangling her in the bathroom.

“Gia, this better be the best damn food and the hottest men you have ever experienced or I’m never doing you another favor ever again.” You teased, getting out of your car as she walked up to it.

“I swear he said this place was nicer! Thank you so much babes, I owe you one!” She responded, slipping her arm inside of yours to walk inside. “Maybe the inside is really nice and it’s just a shady exterior.”

You’d never seen the man Gia was seeing tonight so when the two of you arrived at the table you weren’t sure which man was yours, but you knew which one you wanted. He looked gentle, shaggy hair untamed almost like he wasn’t prepared to go on a date tonight.

“I suppose I’m your date.” He smiled softly, getting up to pull your chair out for you. “I’m MIke, you look uh, really beautiful tonight.”

After the introductions and small talk the two of you hit it off right away, it helped that Gia and her date were more interested in each other than remembering that the people they brought also existed. The more you talked the more Mike came out of his shell, he wasn’t as shy as you first pegged him to be. Your heel was slowly caressing his calf, neither of you were quite sure when it had ended up there but he wasn’t complaining.

“A man in uniform is hot.” Your flirting was a little rusty, but it seemed to be working just fine for you.

“It’s just a security gig.” He shrugged it off, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time.

You grabbed the straw of your drink, wrapped your tongue around it, and took a sip. Mike choked slightly but covered it up with a cough, adjusting his pants under the table at the same time.

“She’s not going to go home with him unless I go home with you.” You whispered in his ear as you leaned over the table, tangling your fingers in his hair to trick Gia into thinking you were whispering something dirty. “I’d really like to go home with you.”

You could feel the heat creep up his neck, his face was flushed. His heart might as well be on the outside of his chest with the intensity that it was beating, it’d been a long time since he’d been on a date or even gotten laid but Abby was at home and that just wouldn’t work.

“Uhm, my sister’s at home, can we go to your place?” Mike’s saliva was thick and pooling in his mouth, it felt almost impossible to swallow. He had to be dreaming, this just didn’t make sense otherwise. He was just doing his friend a favor and now your breath was hot on his neck and his jeans were uncomfortably tight.

The second the two of you walked outside he got fidgety, like he was going to take off the second you let go of his hand. Frankly he was surprised you hadn’t let go of it the second you picked it up, he was dripping sweat from the moment he realized you were his date. He quickly made a mental note to send a letter to the company who made his preferred deodorant, the fact that he didn’t smell absolutely putrid spoke volumes on their product.

“So did you mean what you said inside? Because I’m perfectly okay with just going home.”

“I meant it, don’t be so nervous.” You smiled back at him, handing him the keys to your car.

The tension was thick, his knuckles were white as he tried to keep his focus on the road ahead and making it back to your place safely and not the fingers drawing figures on his thigh as you spoke about something he couldn’t quite grasp.

Your place wasn’t too far from the restaurant that Gia’s date had picked, that Mike was thankful for. The longer he had to endure the torture that was your fingers on this thighs, the less his ability to be a gentleman and control himself existed. If it was up to him, he’d probably just pulled over and fucked you in the backseat of your own car but it wasn’t. He was a gentleman, he’d just met you all of a few hours ago, he knew better.

“This is the place.” You smiled softly as he pulled into your driveway.

“It’s nice.” He stated, handing your car keys back to you and taking your hand. “Suits you.”

Mike’s eyes wandered the walls, taking in every aspect of you, as you led him through the house. It didn’t take him long to notice that you lived alone, another thing he was now thankful for. His fingers trailed the zipper of your dress as he stood behind you in your bedroom, his other hand rubbing your arm and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“Are you going to take it off?” Your voice was shaky and quiet, for the first time tonight you were nervous.

“And you thought I was the eager one.” He chuckled, tugging your hair back softly to give him just enough access to your face to make eye contact with you. “Do you get off on bringing strangers to your home and having them fuck you?”

A soft whimper escaped your lips, blessing the ears of the man behind you who responded with a groan. His lips made contact with your neck, biting and sucking at any of the skin he had access to. The hand that was holding your hair back made itself busy drawing the zipper of your dress further and further down until it couldn’t go any further, you shivered as the cold air hit your back.

Mike detached himself from your neck and took a step back, briefly admiring how disheveled you looked despite still being fully dressed, he made a quick motion for you to turn around and you obliged almost immediately. If you got his dick any harder it might’ve fallen off before he ever got the chance to use it.

He backed you into the bed, laying you down and sliding your dress off and into a pile on the floor. Another deep groan was emitted into the air as he took in the sight in front of him, you hadn’t worn a bra and the underwear you’d chosen left nothing to the imagination. Mike immediately started thanking whatever god was above for you and the experience he was about to have.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest. Truthfully, you hadn’t planned on sleeping with anyone tonight but then you saw him and your entire plan was flipped upside down. You lied about your friend not going home with her date if you didn’t leave with him, you didn’t want him to think you were desperate but he knew now. The second he touched the zipper of your dress, anything left of your facade was gone. You needed him.

“If you weren’t so fucking wet I would’ve thought you were only doing me a favor.” He spoke nonchalantly, rubbing his finger over your folds through your underwear. “ Or maybe you’re just a whore? Huh?”

“For you.” You choked out, words getting caught in your throat over his words.

At the beginning of the night you would’ve placed money on the fact that he wasn’t capable of things like this, it was like another side of him had come out during the drive to your house. You weren’t complaining, his words were getting to you in a way you’d never experienced.

“Yeah? For me? Mikey’s own personal whore.” He slipped your underwear to the side and slid his finger through your folds, collecting your juices and bringing them to his mouth. “You’re as sweet as you look, need a honey jar full of you.”

You cried out at him softly, trying to use anything you had to stop his teasing. He was winding you up but edging you right before you could pop, he could’ve said anything and you would’ve agreed just to get him to fuck you. Being this desperate for a man you hardly knew was an exhilarating experience.

“Please, I need you.” You whined, grabbing at his shirt in a desperate plea. “Please.”

“Good job using your words, pretty girl.” Mike praised, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pulling them down, throwing them in the same pile as your dress.

His clothes soon joined yours on the floor, a small pout emerging when you realized you wouldn’t be able to suck him off, his eyes catching yours as he climbed up your body. He kissed his way up, biting occasionally. Fingers tracing your skin just as you had done to him earlier in the night, lighting a fire on your skin as they went. It was like his body was made to fit yours, like your souls had searched for each other through every lifetime and yet this was the first time they had met.

His lips finally met yours for the first time, teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he pulled away to breathily whisper something in your ear. You shook your head in agreement at whatever he said, as long as he kept touching you like that and making noises in your ear you’d agree to anything he said to you.

Shaking your head yes was the best decision you’d made so far, you felt two fingers slip inside of you. Thrusting for a few moments before they were replaced by the tip of his cock, slowly pushing in as his mouth found one of your nipples. The gentle man you had once perceived had been replaced by a god who was hung like a horse, splitting you in half with the cock fit for a god.

“Fuck.” Mike moaned, tipping his head back when he bottomed out, taking your legs and placing them on his shoulders. “So good, pretty girl.”

Anything you had planned on responding with quickly dissipated the second he pulled out and thrusted back in, a low groan coming out insead. His fingers were digging into your thighs as he held them up where he wanted them, all you could hope for was the imprints bruising as a reminder that this actually happened. What hair that wasn’t sticking to his skin from the sweat covering it was dangling backwards freely, all his focus was on not cumming too soon and if he continued to look at you he definitely would.

Your eyes had glossed over a long time ago, tears streaming down the sides as a byproduct of the blissful state his cock had put you in, fingers gripping desperately at the sheets and your tits bouncing with each thrust. He was once again praying to every god that he would get to do this another time, then he could sear the image of you under him into his mind.

“Mike, Mikey I need..” You whined, the knot in your stomach twisting and turning, threatening to spill before you could even finish a coherent thought.

“C’mon pretty girl, you can do it, let it go.” He praised you, bringing his thumb down to your clit and drawing figure eights in time with his thrusts to help your orgasm spill over.

His words were the final piece in the puzzle, your orgasm hitting you soon after he spoke. Legs shaking, mind blowing, tears, and silent moans was all your body could do at the supernova your orgasm had proved to be. You’d never cum this hard before but if every orgasm after didn’t measure up, he had ruined you.

“You did so good.” Was all you heard as you came down from your high, Mike’s hands soothed down your hair as he whispered into your ear.

His thrusts continued at the same pace for only a few seconds before his hips stuttered and he painted your insides white.

“I guess tonight wasn’t a total waste.” You joked quietly, turning to the side to smile at him as he laid down next to you.

“We need to do this more often.”

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justlillythinking · 7 months

Text

Hate It When You Leave

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. he's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want... including him.

warnings: 18+, best friends to lovers trope, use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and past drug use, non-graphic references to violence, some angst & jealousy, fluff and smut (public sex, teasing, oral female receiving)

word count: 6.5 k

There are parts about wearing your heart on your sleeve that no one ever talks about.

For instance, that it's hard to fix your face when the threads keeping that heart together feel like they're getting tugged, cut, and re-bunched into an ugly knot.

The water bottle you're holding hardly has any life left. Even Kelce comments as much when he rounds his kitchen island, limbs swinging and loose thanks to the red Solo cup in his hand. He takes one look at the tight smile on your lips and tilts his head to the side, fingers twitching upward to your chin as he turns your head to face him.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asks, voice a little slurred, but thick with concern.

That was Kelce. Polarizingly good at getting to what someone was hiding underneath.

But appearances went a long way for him. And he was so agreeable, it made him easy to lie to. Especially when he and Topper had practically begged you to come to this party, his first one since graduating college. Everyone would be there, he'd said.

And he was right, they were.

"Nothing, Kels, it's just my stomach being a little funny." You tell him with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. You gaze at him warmly and quirk a brow, smiling genuinely. "How do you always know?"

"We've known each other our whole lives!" He barks in a laugh. "There's nothing I don't know about you."

You feel your heart squeeze again, like there's a too-tight belt around it. But you humour him with a sweet giggle and convinced nod, and it's all Kelce needs before he's walking away to mingle with another.

How shocked he'd be to know that there was something you were hiding.

You keep the water bottle you're holding close to your body as if it would fall straight out of your hands otherwise. When you watch the brunette seated next to Rafe on the couch squeeze his bicep again, you think it might just fall anyway.

Some things don't change.

The sun goes up and down. The moon makes a nightly appearance. Kelce never dresses for the weather. Topper claims everyone else is cheating when he loses.

You love Rafe Cameron.

"Fucking sucks, doesn't it?" A voice rings next to you.

You slowly turn your head from where you're sitting on the kitchen island to see a familiar face lounging on one of the high-chairs.

Topper, apparently, had always had an inkling.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Top." You grumble, casting your eyes away from the blonde protagonist of most of your dreams. Some of your nightmares, too.

You watch as Topper rolls his eyes without so much as glancing at you, a small scoff escaping his lips. He takes a hearty sip from his cup of brown liquid. Tracking his eye-line, you're unsurprised to find that he's staring wistfully at the very same blonde's sister.

Sarah Cameron is dancing in the corner of the room with John B., her boyfriend.

A Pogue at a Kook party... the thought still makes you skeptical.

Not because you didn't like John B., or more accurately, like him for Sarah. But because a few short years ago, all this seemed entirely impossible.

Nonetheless, Sarah was important to all of you.

And, like she'd said, Rafe listened to you better than he did anyone else.

When you explained to him how smitten his sister was with the boy, and considering how their relationship had endured far past those murmurings of 'young love' to, what was at this point, years together, he'd begun to understand that John B. wasn't going anywhere.

Much to Topper's devastation.

He promised he was over her, and he dated like it, too. But there were those moments where he had a few drinks in him and it made you think otherwise.

"Oh, okay. My fault." Topper replies sarcastically, downing what's left in his cup and finally turning away from the couple he's burning holes through. "I thought we were being honest."

"I am being honest."

He glances at you sharply.

"Uh huh. Hey, don't freak out, but, your nose is like, growing really long. Never seen anything like it before. It's like in that movie! What's it called, again? Puppet boy? No, that can't be right..."

"Very funny, Topper." You say dryly, but the hint of a smile on your lips sells you out and he chuckles next to you.

"I was thinking Pinocchio." He fake recalls, nudging your elbow.

This time, you laugh with your chest, and when you lift your head up to take it all in again, your eyes meet familiar blue ones from across Kelce's living room.

By now, you know how to mediate the warmth that blooms at the base of your spine and consumes you completely.

There's a comfortable silence between the two of you before Topper starts speaking again.

"You know he would do anything for you, right?"

You chew on your bottom lip, still holding eye contact with Rafe who gives you a crooked smile. The girl next to him leans in to whisper something in his ear. He keeps looking at you.

"Yeah, I know." You mumble half-heartedly. "I just feel like I might need to cut my losses at this point."

Topper frowns for a moment, then stands up from his seat.

"Well, you suit yourself." He pinches your cheek affectionately. "Because I, for one, want to crash and burn."

You snort at Topper's words and just as quickly watch him round the kitchen counter to grab another drink.

Preoccupied with the way he extends that gesture to you, fixing some gross concoction of different sodas for you to sip on, a shiver rolls over your skin when it feels like Rafe's smouldering eyes are still lighting a fire on your face.

Aron Andersen is a douche, but he means well.

At least, that's the excuse you aways placate Rafe with when Aron inevitably runs his mouth, the blonde's fists tightening nearly every time in conjunction.

Typically, you opt for the pacifist approach because blood is a bitch to clean, Rafe whines when you clean him up with saline, and frankly, Aron isn't worth it.

But tonight, he seems to enjoy testing your threshold for patience like no one else before him.

You suppose he's not entirely to blame. Kelce makes his drinks strong, and half of Figure 8 is sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

Maybe that was why Rafe had almost swung on John B. only a few minutes prior, claiming the younger man was feeding his sister lies about him. Perhaps it was just one of those nights.

Still, you sigh when Aron drunkenly makes his way over to your new spot in the backyard, and press your lips tight together when he shoves a beer in your direction.

"I'm not drinking tonight, Aron." You tell him plainly.

Aron haphazardly plops down into the lounge chair next to you with his glossy, red eyes narrowing.

He grudgingly pulls the beer back from you and takes a sip that pools around the sides of his mouth, then drains down his throat slow and loud.

"That sucks. You're more fun when you do." He scoffs.

Your mouth falls open as the words leave his lips, head spinning to meet his annoyed gaze. The faraway look in his eyes makes you gulp.

In no particular mood to be berated, you have half a mind to scoff back and get up to leave. But there's something about the way he speaks completely unadulterated that keeps your body locked in place.

Like you're dying to know what someone really thinks of you.

"Why not?" He presses, gesturing with his finger accusingly.

"I'm driving."

He continues to stare at you blankly.

"I'm driving." You reiterate, irritation seeping into your tone. "And drunk driving is illegal, Aron. You do know that, right?"

Unintentionally, your eyes flicker to a slightly rowdy and staggering Topper across the room. Aron zeroes in on that and rolls his eyes emphatically.

"Now it makes sense. You're taking your boyfriends home." He pitches the word in a scornful taunt, squinting over your shoulder. "Where is Cameron, anyway?"

You feel your heartbeat rage in your chest, tongue numb and mind in disarray.

"Don't be a dick, Aron. They're my friends." You bristle. But he seems unfazed, lazily quirking an eyebrow.

"Please don't tell me you're that stupid, Y/N. Friends?" He laughs obnoxiously. "I get you're in love with the guy, but you run around for them like a maid. You ask me, the least you should be getting out of it is a good fuck."

Your fingers twitch at your side as you shoot up from your seat, really and truly considering that pouring his beer over his head might be the best option.

Given that Aron routinely takes up two parking spots to park his Range Rover and cheats on his girlfriends, you think it might be a long time coming.

His words hurt for more than one reason. Of course, because he'd sooner die than recognize that you very much could maintain a healthy, platonic, and meaningful relationship with your friends of over a decade.

But also because, when it came to Rafe, he was goading you with a kind of intimacy you knew you'd never be able to access. At least not in the way you wanted.

When a firm hand grips Aron's shoulder strongly and whips his body around, you soon realize you don't have to resort to such a physical display.

While it was true that Rafe's face didn't make him look particularly kind, he'd only been seriously pissed off, to the point that his stomach felt like caving in on itself, a few times. Like in those months right after he'd graduated high school and felt like a big question mark. Every time his dad looked at him disapprovingly, it affirmed that sinking feeling in him, and he learned that he sometimes articulated his sadness in anger.

These days when he's mad, he mulls the feeling over a few times in the interest of scraping for another feeling underneath.

Now, though, all Rafe feels when he meets Aron's arrogance with an intensity of his own, is unbridled rage.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Rafe speaks at a low register that makes your breath quicken. His movements are a little clumsy, blue eyes slightly glazed over, and his dirty blonde hair kisses his forehead that's speckled with sweat. Cheeks dusted red in that way that you love, more prominent when he's inebriated.

His fingers are still pressing harshly into Aron's shoulder, pressure concentrated and steady if the way he winces is any indication. For a second, his eyes flit over to you and the frown on your face, and they begin to soften. But then Aron is sputtering and stealing his attention and he hates him all over again for it.

"My bad, bro." Aron offers lamely, hands jutting upward in surrender. He attempts to step away, but Rafe keeps him locked there.

"Yeah, it's your fucking bad, bro." Rafe sneers.

He roughly shoves Aron backwards as he lets go of him and the man quickly scurries away knowing that if he sticks around, Rafe will probably force him through clenched teeth to apologize to you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest for a different reason.

Your mind is trapped in a loop, repeating every word you said to Aron over and over again, wondering how incriminating they were, and debating how much exactly Rafe had heard.

And if he had, if he was coherent enough to either dismiss or believe the accusation that you loved him. No, not love, you shudder... in love. Aron had said, verbatim, that you were in love with him.

"I would've handled it." You mumble with your arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe sighs as he turns his body to face you, rubbing a hand over his jaw, now partially relieved of the tension it was holding. He chews on his bottom lip cautiously, like it'll help break the fall of the words bound to spill out of his mouth, a little too unrestrained in his drunk state for his liking.

"I know that." He nods slowly. "I just wanted to help to help you... handle it."

He stumbles a little as he moves toward you and you instinctively wrap an arm behind his torso, holding him against your body as a human splint.

"Plus, I kinda have a reputation going for me. No one's losing their shit if I fight a guy."

"Or two." You say pointedly, thinking about his almost altercation with John B. earlier in the night.

Rafe buries his head into your shoulder, groaning loudly into the bare skin as it heats up and vibrates.

"Fuck, not you, too."

He lifts his head up to continue, and you lug his body towards the living room where you spot Topper talking with Kelce and some others. Without speaking, Topper seems to understand what you're saying, nodding then pointing to himself followed by the stairs.

He'd driven you to Kelce's and you promised to stay sober and drive him back home. But now, it seemed like the plan was going to shift.

Topper would stay the night at Kelce's and take his car back in the morning. You would take Rafe's truck back to his place and walk the rest of the way. You were practically neighbours, anyway.

"If she wants to talk shit about me to her boyfriend, that's one thing. But him, talking shit about me, to her? What's he trying to do? Turn my own sister against me?"

"I get it, Rafe. I really do." You nod, an amused smile on your lips as you tug him out of the front door and towards his truck. "But you promised Sarah you'd be nice, remember?"

"I am being nice." He protests with his hands tapping at his chest. "I didn't even fucking touch him."

You scoff lightly as you strap Rafe in his passenger seat, noting the way his eyes begin to flutter shut. Humming softly, you poke a cold finger at his cheek and watch as they blink open again.

"I'm taking you home, okay?" You murmur gently.

"No!" He objects, large hand circling your wrist. He rubs his forehead with the other one, trying to remember something. "Got a meeting in the morning. Ward is gonna flip if he thinks I've been out all night fucking around."

You look at him uncertainly, waiting for the thing that you don’t want him to say, but know he will.

"Your house? Please?"

There was a time when sleepovers with Rafe were a common practice. Sometimes, after parties like this, with Kelce and Topper.

Other times when you convinced the boys to binge a new movie or TV series, usually ending with at least two of them falling asleep. Rafe made a habit of grumbling his critiques of the things he watched, but always stayed up with you.

For a while, when he hit an especially rough patch with his dad and spent more nights than he would've liked getting high out of his mind.

As much as he'd tried not to pull anybody else into it, he found himself seeking comfort in the warmth of your bed. It helped that you always received him with open arms, even when his early morning phone calls were disorienting and he cried silently into your shirt in the hours after.

Those nights felt so distant, and yet, like you could touch them if you reached out just far enough.

Rafe had girlfriends on and off, and sometimes that version of him felt like a stranger. You felt a strange pity for yourself when you realized that it might've been a good thing. That he was getting better and without falling back on a crutch, even if that crutch was you. Suddenly, him sleeping at your house felt weird and misplaced more than anything else.

"I don't know, Rafe...," you begin to trail off, but the blue desperation in his eyes makes you reconsider. He's still holding tenderly at your wrist. "Fine. But if you puke on my sheets, you're done. Do you hear me?"

Whether or not Rafe hears you is unclear, but you take the delirious smile forming on his lips as a non-verbal affirmation. He huffs out a long breath as if he can feel himself finally relaxing. His eyes start to close again, too, as you start his truck and drive the short way to your house.

"Don't even think about falling asleep on me, Cameron. I am not lugging you up the stairs."

"You're strong." He reasons smoothly, lids still shut as he smirks. "You were about to deck the shit out of Aron Andersen when I found you."

Getting Rafe up to your bedroom goes better than you'd imagined, now with a few years of experience under your belt.

You get him to sit down on your bed, and he fiddles with the items on your nightstand while you rummage through your armoire for an old pair of his pajamas. He complains when you throw him a pair of sweatpants and a sports t-shirt he used to wear in junior high, claiming that it'd be too tight over his arms and chest.

Plus, he'd added, it was far too hot to be wearing a shirt, anyway.

"I love these."

Changing into sweats of your own, you exit the bathroom to find Rafe sitting up in your bed, part of his bare torso obscured by your white sheets. His attention is fixed on a small group of rings on your bedside table, silver and gold hues reflecting under the dull rays of your lamp.

He slowly picks one up.

"Yeah, I'd hope so." You snort, tentatively slipping into bed next to him and painfully aware of the sorry excuse for space between you. "You got them all for me... kook."

Rafe cracks a sleepy smile, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You wouldn't tell me which one you wanted." He shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world.

He sets the ring back on the table and switches off your lamp, blanketing the room in a stroke of darkness. Rafe lies on his back and you opt to turn to your side, facing the wall.

Looking at his face only a few inches away from yours, when he's about to sleep in your bed, feels like it will be too much.

"Asking for what you want is weird, Rafe. Nobody likes it."

You chew on your bottom lip in the dark.

"I do." He says in a scoff that turns into a yawn. "How else is anyone gonna know? People don't usually stop you and beg to find out."

You swallow roughly. That was true enough, they didn't.

But Rafe did. He always did. You revered him for it.

There's a long silence between you and all that echoes against the wood framing of your bed are the heavy and sometimes irregular sounds of your and Rafe's breathing.

Against your better judgement, you think he might've fallen asleep and almost turn around to check.

"Is it me?" He asks quietly, voice scratchy with exhaustion. "... what you want?"

You feel your shaky breath hitch in your throat.

"Because if it is... you don't have to ask."

His words linger in the air for as long as it takes your wildly beating hard to calm down.

By the time your body regains some feeling, the sound of Rafe's soft snores pierce the oddly crisp air clouding your room, and the choice to unpack what he said right now, or in the morning, is made for you.

A shiver runs down from the nape of your neck to the tips of yours toes.

Rafe is gone by the time you wake up.

The harsh but comforting sound of rain clangs against your roof, and you stretch your limbs to the thought of a cloudy and obscure summer day.

It's better this way, you think. The absence of Rafe's warmth next to you would feel worse if the sun was shining, teasing.

Your fingers play underneath your comforter to locate your phone. Scrolling through your notifications, you frown seeing that none of them are from Rafe.

In his defense, it was only about 9AM now, and he'd probably just had enough time to take a quick shower, get himself the smallest bit presentable, and still barely make it to his meeting with a client.

The used bathroom towel in your hamper and flannel pajama pants hastily thrown on his side of the bed are compelling indicators.

In his defense, he was drunk, and there was no telling if he remembered anything about last night.

Drowsy proclamations of desire and confession, included.

You wrestle with the idea of calling him and letting it all spill out.

Kissing him on your front lawn, in the rain, with dewy blades of grass nipping at your feet. Hands threading through his wet hair and tugging, hungrily, because you're starving and happy, and these are liberties you can afford in imagination.

But you settle on seeing him later tonight, in person. It's your dad's charity after all.

"I just wish you would have told me earlier." Your disappointed words hang in the air for a few moments as you play with the hem of your silky baby blue dress.

Your father had mentioned to you once before that his new business partner had a son about your age, newly graduated from UC Irvine.

He hadn't mentioned, though, that this mystery guy would be attending the charity tonight, and he'd offered you up as his own personal tour guide.

Your father hadn't used the word date explicitly, but that's what it felt like when you were handed an odd-smelling bouquet of flowers, standing awkwardly next to the brunette who you were apparently to keep the company of all night, though he might as well have been a stranger.

Daniel was nice enough.

He complimented your dress and your makeup, smiled and pulled out your chair before you sat down at your assigned table.

But it felt weird accepting praise and chivalry from him when your heart was busy beating erratically at the simple thought that your dress matched Rafe's eyes.

The venue is extravagant like it always is, what with it's elaborate crystal chandeliers, ice sculptures, and floral center pieces larger than your head.

At your table, you note your and Daniel's name cards labeling your seats. Next to them, are Topper, Kelce, and Rafe's. There's a sixth seat that has no label and you tilt your head to the side thoughtfully, considering that Topper or Kelce must be bringing a date.

"This place is incredible. Your dad is so impressive." Daniel says in awe from the seat next to you. His eyes trail around the room, wide in amazement, reflecting back all the vibrant lights in the brown of his pupils.

You smile weakly at him, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear that always seems to take flight despite your attention to detail.

"Yeah, he's really something. Likes to orchestrate a big show. You should see him at the winter ball. Live doves, and everything."

Daniel nods, moving on to say something that starts to sound unintelligible when something else piques your interest. Someone else. Multiple someones, entering the banquet hall.

Craning your neck, you make out Topper and Rafe. And a girl.

No. Topper... and Rafe and a girl. She has her arm tucked around Rafe's as he escorts her in the direction of your table. He's wearing the grey tux you like, the one he wore to Rose's sister's wedding with the ornate thread detailing. His smile makes the two halves of your heart squeeze together.

"Hey, you okay? You're squeezing that wine glass pretty tight there."

Daniel likely means well, eyeing the way your fist clenches around the stem of the glass you've yet to take a sip from. You shoot him an embarrassed smile and release your straining fingers.

An emotional support water bottle sounds like it would be really nice right now.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nervous... my dad always gives a speech at these things." You explain.

As the trio begins to approach, you realize it's Shelley Thompson gripping Rafe's arm, a sweet girl you knew from the Kook Academy.

Even now, she always waves when you run into her at the Island Club, and she has a swing on the golf course like no other.

She's a good match for Rafe. You hate to admit it, but it's true.

When Daniel speaks again, you can barely hear him.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Daniel chuckles. "I have a hard time imagining that your dad would be bad at anything..."

Topper, having heard the tail-end of your conversation, plunks himself down in the chair across from yours and rubs his forehead tiredly. You shudder at the way he smiles empathetically at you. Like there's something to be consoled about.

"Hangover?" You ask, shoving the shaky feeling down and shooting him a teasing smirk.

He groans loudly and buries his face in his hands.

"That's the understatement of the year. Feels like I'm getting my skull bashed in." He mutters through the skin, then he peels his head away and grimaces at the screechy music being played. If there was one thing your dad was bad it, it was decent music taste. Topper laughs heartily, shaking his head. "Then again, maybe I am."

The lightheartedness is interrupted for a moment as Rafe and Shelley pull up to the table, taking their seats accordingly. Rafe rakes his eyes over Daniel for a few seconds, but otherwise stays silent and it makes you frown. You look at him, desperately trying to uncover if he remembers any details from last night, but his expression is unreadable.

Shelley, on the other hand, grins at you enthusiastically and starts to chat with you about the time she interned at your dad's company.

You find yourself glancing at Rafe every so often, each time catching him staring blankly ahead or at his lap, and always fidgeting with his fingers.

"Who's this?" He asks suddenly, nodding his head at the man next to you.

"Oh." You swallow. "This is Daniel."

Finding that insufficient, Daniel takes it as an opportunity to formally introduce himself.

"That's me." Daniel waves sheepishly, gently squeezing your shoulder with his other hand. "Y/N's been showing me around. Well, her and her dad. I really love what Mr. Y/L/N's been doing with his company. He does some incredible work out here. It's not often that you see-,"

Topper snickers when he cuts him off.

"Maybe he should've been your date."

Daniel laughs it off, blushing slightly and concealing it in a short cough. But you kick Topper under the table in retaliation, ignoring the way he holds his shin and groans out a soft "Ow!".

After that, Shelley, Topper, and Daniel divulge into conversation, shifting from topic to topic and at some points, sharing boisterous laughs together.

Rafe keeps his lips pressed together and his words concise. While you fiddle with your utensils, you feel his eyes on you, igniting heat under your skin.

He stares at you hard, like he's waiting for you to say something. Begging, even, with the way his forehead tenses and his brow stays quirked.

But you didn't know what to say.

Or maybe you didn't know how to say it. Especially not here. Especially not when he had a date.

Rafe rolls his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek, standing from the table abruptly, the movement making the cutlery tremble.

"Hey, I have an idea." He says while tugging on Shelley's hand. "Let's dance."

You watch as Shelley squeals with excitement, jumping from her seat to follow Rafe towards the center of the large room where the music is playing.

"Couldn't pay me to get closer to that band." Topper mumbles offhandedly. You're sure he's trying to make it sting less, but some pains don't have a perfect antidote.

Daniel sends you a look, silently asking if you want to join them.

"Maybe later." You reply quietly.

Watching Rafe wrap his arm around Shelley's waist, you feel your heart sink slowly into your stomach.

In the middle of Daniel's rambling and Topper's occasional acknowledging hums, you rise from your seat and stumble into the courtyard for some fresh air.

Surely, your heart would keep sinking if you saw any more, and your heels were too tight to fit anything else.

The courtyard is a beautiful mix of greenery, fairy lights, and concrete statues, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest. You sit on a stone bench and try to control your breathing with your head between your knees.

Though it's turbulent and shallow at best.

"What's wrong?"

You know it's Rafe without looking up. Sighing into the palms of your hand, you slide them down from your face and lift your head up. Surely, your makeup is smudged, and the thought makes you more miserable.

"Nothing." You say more sharply than you intended. "Nothing's wrong. Just go away, Rafe."

He looks at you completely scandalized.

"Are you... mad at me?"

You let out a deep breathe, averting your gaze to the ground as you collect yourself. "No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?"

Rafe scoffs, entirely unconvinced. He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration.

"Well, fuck, if this is 'not mad', then I don't want to see what mad looks like."

"Can you just drop it? Please, Rafe? Drop it?" You beg, sniffling slightly as you stand. You hadn't noticed when your cheeks started to get wet. Likely too much in denial.

Despite the way it's honoured you in the past, crying was offering no release at this point. It's not like any of this was Rafe's fault. Even if he had gotten your hopes up last night, he wasn't obligated to act on drunken pillow talk. Maybe he hadn't meant it in the first place and was only trying to make you feel better.

"You won't talk to me." He says sadly.

You bite down on every explanation you want to give him. Chest pain heavy and unrelenting.

"Just... go back to Shelley, Rafe. She's probably waiting for you."

Rafe looks puzzled when the words fall weakly out of your mouth.

Then, he nods, like something finally clicks for him. He meets your eyes with fervor as he presses his lips together.

"So, this is about Shelley?" He asks.

Your head hangs and silence intensifies between you. It speaks for itself.

"The same Shelley that's been fucking Kelce on and off for the past two years?"

He watches your mouth fall open and eyebrows furrow, continuing as you stare at him.

"Kelce promised to take her out on a real date, but then he got caught up at work... asked me to keep Shelley company until he showed up. We didn't come here together, together, Y/N. I thought you knew that."

Your mind buzzes as he speaks, bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

So, he wasn't here with Shelley. And he probably did remember both what he heard and said last night if he could recognize that you were jealous.

Jealous. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The feeling was always two-fold. A person would feel jealous, then humiliated that they had. You don't know which one is worse.

You peak an eye open, chewing through your words. "Why couldn't Topper do it?"

"Have you met Topper?"

That was a good point.

Still reeling from the new information, you look down at your lap pensively.

"But you did." Rafe begins after a few beats of silence. When you frown in confusion, he clarifies. "... come here with someone."

You crane your neck up to look at him. There's something you can't place in his eyes, but it's cloudy and all-consuming. His hair is a mess from the way he's been ruffling through it, and his cheeks are flushed and tight.

"What, Daniel? Are you kidding me? I only brought him because my dad ask-," you begin to explain, but Rafe cuts you off.

"I don’t care why he thinks he can touch you. I just want him to stop.”

Despite the small gust of wind that blows past you both, you feel a warmth at the base of your neck... in the palms of your hands. Maybe it was the beams of light overhead, illuminating your bodies amidst the greenery.

Or, maybe it was just Rafe's words.

The intensity of his gaze. The way he steps towards you as he speaks them, warm hand eventually reaching out to graze over your cheek in a way that makes you gasp in a mixture of shock and excitement.

For a moment, you think about yourself and the many soul-crushing nights spent watching Rafe talk to and touch and kiss other people, the overlapping visuals making you queasy.

"I know the feeling." You say quietly, hot breath fanning over his face.

Rafe frowns a little, soaking up the meaning of your words. He nudges his face closer to yours, until your noses are touching and his lips just barely graze over the pair he desperately wants to taste. He draws back suddenly, suspending all the air in your lungs.

He eyes you cautiously, challenging silently as he licks his lips.

"Not gonna do anything unless you ask."

You nearly cry out in response. "Rafe, please. I... I want you." Ignoring the way your desperation makes your skin feel tingly and your head spin, you shut your eyes tightly, realizing that only really skimmed the surface. You try again, gulping. "I've always wanted you."

"Fuck." He breathes out, eyes fluttering shut. "Never stop saying that."

Stifling the sound of another whine from your lips, Rafe kisses you feverishly.

He moves his soft lips in tandem with yours, swallowing each of your breathy moans. One of his hands traces over the swell of your jaw while the other stretches tenderly around your throat. "Know what I wanted to do when I saw you sitting there next to him?"

You nearly scream in protest when Rafe pulls his lips off yours, but fall silent when he trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck and collarbones, sloppily sucking the skin then laving his tongue over the afflicted areas. Unsatisfied until your pushing his head away from the sensitivity.

"Wanted to knock his fucking teeth out." He murmurs with his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and leaving searing kisses. "But I don't do that shit anymore. So I'll ruin his night a different way."

Rafe moves your body with his until the backs of your knees hit the concrete bench. Your mouth falls open as he sits you down on it, kneeling in front of you. He presses a ticklish kiss to your knee and his bright blue eyes peer up at you through his lashes. When you nod, he parts your thighs and pulls your panties down in a single unbroken movement, committing every second to memory.

He stares longer than he should, groaning at the way your wetness collects on his finger when he traces a finger over your slit, spreading you apart.

"Can't believe," he moans into your mound, running the flat of his tongue over your center again and again. "... you kept me from this pussy for so long."

You throw your head back at the sensation, finding nothing but air and Rafe to support you as pulls you closer to his mouth.

"That," you say in a broken moan at the feeling of Rafe's tongue inside you. "That's your fault, remember? I was always here — shit! Waiting for you.”

Rafe hums against your pussy at that, neither agreeing or disagreeing. His nose nudges your clit as he tastes you greedily. You tug at his hair to dissipate some of the energy building inside your core, but it only makes Rafe work harder.

"Didn't think I deserved you." He admits, pink lips mesmerizing and wet with your slick and his spit. Rafe takes your clit into his mouth and sucks obscenely, the slurping sound sending a flash of heat through you. "Doesn't matter now. I'm good at making up for lost time..."

Your thighs clamp around Rafe's head as he fucks you with his tongue. It's only now, as gasps and high-pitched sounds fall wantonly from your lips that you come to the reality that you're letting Rafe eat you out in the courtyard, and anybody from the party could come here and find you. Still, you moan less controlled than you would have hoped when he suckles at your clit again, drinking at your sopping pussy.

"Hey, have some common decency, huh? There's some very nice people in there trying to enjoy a party."

Rafe smirks when you pull at his hair even harder, mostly at the thought that you think it could be reprimanding when he likes it so much. His teasing does more to turn you on than you'd care to admit and he can tell with the way you gush around him.

"One of em's your date." He adds, laughing slightly as he curls his tongue inside you. Entranced at the way it makes you whimper and writhe like putty under him. He starts rubbing your clit with his thumb at the same time, chasing the crest of your orgasm. "C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Come all over my tongue."

Your release makes your back rise off of the slab of cement you're seated on, thighs slotted over Rafe's shoulders as he licks you through your climax.

The pleasure is insurmountable, your mouth falling open and your eyes screwing shut as that familiar feeling completely overwhelms your senses, the burn of your elbows against the cement keeping you anchored to the ground.

Rafe smiles when you pull him by the belt of his dress pants to capture his mouth in a long and sweet kiss. It helps clean up the residual wetness.

By the time Kelce makes it your father's charity event, he sighs tiredly into the crown of Shelley's head, pressing a wet kiss there in greeting. On his way in, he got trapped in a conversation with your father and some guy he'd never seen before named Daniel who was more inclined to kiss your dad's ass than he was to breathe.

Finally taking his seat next to a very drunk Topper, he squints his eyes at the sight before him. You and Rafe, unable to keep your hands off each other, giggling at nothing in particular. And when not giggling, kissing.

"Are you seeing this shit?" Kelce asks Topper, gesturing towards his two closest friends shoving their tongues down each other's throats. Shamelessly, at that.

"Dude." Topper groans, sighing like this was no surprise to him. "Where the fuck have you been?"

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!

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justlillythinking · 7 months

Note

season 5 scary beard rick getting sweet, hyperfem reader on her knees for him, and her just looking up all sweet and obedient and docile, just about ready to do anything for him I FEEL LIKE ITD DRIVE HIM WILDDDD

“Are you okay?” She whispers as he tugs her behind the barn. Neither of them wanting to attract any attention from the potential threats out in the woods.

“Just need your help with something, princess,” his mouth starts trailing down her neck as he pushes her up against the barn. Rough wood with the threat of a splinter catches on her sweater. It’s stretched out collar falls off her shoulder and grants him even more access to her neck. Nipping lightly at her collarbone.

“With what?”

He doesn’t answer, tilting his head up, he catches her lips and grabs her hand, placing it against the front of his jeans. Tall and hard under the dark denim, she gets the hint almost immediately.

It doesn’t take long before she’s on her knees. So obedient. The very impractical mini skirt she wears is riding up above her hips and the sight of her soft bare skin drives him wild. He’s thankful that her pretty lace panties are only shown to the wood siding of the barn and not the forest behind them. He holds one arm up against the wall for support, doubling as an unintentional shield to their intimate act. His fingers lace with her unruly locks, guiding her close enough to kiss him through his boxers.

“Atta girl,” he says as her fingers trace at his waistband. The site in front of him nearly catches him in a trance. She’s so pretty like this. All wide eyed and willing.

He urges her on, “You know what to do.”

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justlillythinking · 8 months

Text

soux chef

summary: rafe let’s himself play the husband role with your little life in your trailer. oh, also, he loves you. (alternate summary: the first time rafe tells you he loves you)

notes: i had a lot of fun writing this, i just love a domesticated rafe cameron that isn’t insane about coke and isn’t a murderous psychopath…. there’s also alcohol and marijuana use in this! anyways this was cute and i often romanticize my life in this way too! enjoy pls

tags: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

word count: 2042

When Rafe steps down the rickety stairs and onto the soggy grass, the humidity smacks him in the face like a wall of pond-scented wet sponge.

“Fuck,” he curses, raising a hand to his brow, and squints in the late morning sunshine. A mosquito buzzes past his nose and he swats it away with a golden ringed hand. His head pounds like a drum. Damn your cocktail skills— you always find a way to get him fucked up despite his tolerance. It’s the Pogue in your genes.

That thought makes his head pound harder, but he knows he wouldn’t have it any other way. The only thing he likes in his family’s high-brow country club culture is the shit that comes with money. And with your limited experience in that, you’re a break from the bullshit.

He fumbles in his pocket, looking for his keys, but his fingers just land on empty gum wrappers and a lighter. He ascends the trailer steps in twos, wrenching the door open, and starts for the kitchen. There’s movement in your bedroom but he just grabs his keys and finds his way back outside into the muggy weather. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s rushing out to do— his plans aren’t until the afternoon.

He’s halfway to his Range Rover parked haphazardly next to your early 2000s Corolla when the front door’s hinges squeak and you call out to him.

“Needing this?” You hold up his wallet between two fingers, and he snorts. You step down onto the grass with bare feet. You’ve got a black lacy thing on top and a pair of half-buttoned jean shorts on the bottom.

“Take anything you aren’t supposed to?” He says, squelching over to your half-dressed form.

“Maybe. You know that’s my mom’s thing, not mine.” You roll your beautiful eyes.

“That right?” He says quietly, sliding his wallet into his pocket and taking your neck into the side of his hand. “Never know, with you.” His mouth meets yours for the first time that day, and you sigh. His hand smoothes down your waist and he tucks his fingers into your waistband, feeling the material of your panties. His favorite pair.

You stumble in the soft earth, feeling yourself being tugged closer, and your arms wind themselves around his shoulders. He’s hot and pulsing with feeling under your touch.

You taste like mint toothpaste and something like watermelon from last night. Every time he kisses you you taste like Sunday mornings and sunshine. But he finds the will to pull away with a hand on your collarbone.

“I’ll see you tonight.” His tilted face glints in the sunlight and his eyes are half lidded and relaxed. At peace.

“What’s tonight?” Your brows pull together, lips screwed up, and he lets go of you.

“I’m goin’ fishing with some buddies later today. I’ll bring you something I catch.” His blue eyes follow yours as you scan his face.

“Mmm.” You smooth a hand down his chest. “My own personal Hank Parker.”

He turns, sliding you off of him with both of your wrists in one hand, and backs towards his car with a chuckle on his lips.

“You’re weird.”

“You’re sexy.” Your gaze moves from the top of his head to his shoes. “Bye.”

“Mhm. Bye.”

His back turns to you and he grins foolishly to himself, depressing the unlock key on his fob. You’re going to ruin him someday.

Later that night, he approaches your door with a cooler, a backpack slung over one shoulder, and a limp in his step. He can’t escape a fishing trip without some sort of injury. He’s lucky if it’s minor. The lights are on in your trailer, and you had even lit the citronella candle on the tiny picnic table off to the side of the front door.

He knocks on the flimsy door on merit and upon no response, shoulders into your living room with a huff.

“Y/N?” He calls, nothing but the crickets chirping and some soul music coming from your radio making any noise in the small house. He sets his things down onto the counter and your lack of response starts to make him a little worried.

That nagging worry immediately disappears when he saunters into the small bathroom and sees you sitting on the toilet, feet propped up on the side of the tub, smoking a joint and painting your toenails.

“What’re you doing?” He asks for some reason, face splitting into a grin, and you pluck the half-smoked J from your lips and hand it to him. Smoke curls out of your mouth and into your nose, and he just chuckles as he takes a hit.

“Multitasking,” you say, eyes meeting him before going back to the task at hand.

“‘S what I love about you,” he murmurs, and leans down for a kiss. You grant him one without acknowledging the beat your heart skips. He barrels on, trying to make you forget his lingual mishap. “I’m going to clean the fish while you finish here and then we can cook, yeah?” He sucks the life out of the joint and hands it back. You push it between your lips and nod, swiping a final time at the pinky toenail of your left foot. Five down, five to go.

“Sounds good, baby,” you mutter through your focus. He turns and you smack his ass as he leaves, relishing in the jump and curse word he grants you in response. You smile around the filter in your lips.

Finishing your nails takes so long that Rafe already has the fish in the pan and half of his drink drained by the time you appear from the bathroom with freshly-purple toenails and the lingering cocktail of marijuana and acetone in your hair.

“What’re our sides, Chef Rafe?” You ask, having a sip of his bourbon. You cringe and make a disgusted noise at his favorite alcohol.

“I heard you—this brand is good, snob. And there are potatoes in the oven.” His broad back is to you as he pokes at the fish in the pan, the smell of hot oil and cooking meat lingering in the air. He even opened the window above the sink and lit that candle you like.

“Sounds perfect,” you murmur, sidling up behind him, and curl your arms around his waist. The worn surf shop shirt he has on is smooth to the touch, and his skin is even smoother when you push the hem up to get your hands on him. “You look so sexy cooking for me.”

“Yeah?” He sets down the spatula and reaches for the cajun spices next to the stove. “How sexy?”

“Really sexy.” Your fingertips toy with the waistband of his jeans, and a colony of goosebumps prickle the skin of his forearms. He nearly shivers when you press your palm flat to the muscle above his pelvis and slide past his belt. He seasons the fish a little more with a shaky hand.

His eyes fix on a single crooked tile in the faux backsplash when you creep your hand down into his boxers, and your mouth presses to his back when he hangs his head. Your fingers smooth down the length of his dick, skilled and familiar, and his mouth drops open.

His heart starts to beat quicker when you pull his zipper down and unbutton his fly in one fell swoop, hot face pressed to the thin material of his shirt. He can feel your grin through it. Your thumb swipes across the tip and he sucks in a breath and grabs at your wrist. He starts to let you go when you kiss at his shoulder blade and curl your hand around the shaft and start to move.

“You have a good day today?” You murmur, bringing your hand back to your mouth to spit into your palm before getting back to it. He looks to the side, silently cursing, and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Mhm.” His word breaks into a groan and you relish in the sound. He’s so good at pleasing you and getting you loud, it’s nice to just hear him for once. His fingers grip the edge of the stove so hard his knuckles pale.

“You smell so good.” You squeeze a hand at his waist, another one working hard in his boxers, and he chokes on one of the rawest moans he’s ever expressed. Your grin widens. “So good, baby,” you kiss through.

“F-fucking—…” He exhales heavily and his hips jerk at the increasing sensitivity. “You’re too good at this.”

“Not possible,” you say, and peek over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his face. His ears are a bright pink, same as his lips, and his face is screwed up in something akin to bliss. You love it.

Your fingers slow for a moment, letting him catch a breath. He pants a little bit but licks his lips, eyes blinking open and looking surprisingly dark. You move his shirt aside with your other than and creep your fingers up his abdomen, stopping briefly at his abs before lowering back to hold onto the anchor of his stomach. You press a kiss to his bicep before your hand speeds up again, fingers a little tighter.

“So sexy,” you compliment smoothly, your smirk evident. “Needy.”

“Stop,” he breathes, eyes closed once again and biting at his lip. “You know that’s my line.”

Your thumb slips over his tip once, twice, then three times. He nearly chokes on a groan.

“It’s true.” A bite to his upper back. “So fucking sensitive to me you’d think we’re virgins, huh?”

His head rolls on his neck, internally cursing, and he grabs again at your wrist as you move quicker.

“Y/N,” he starts to chant, squeezing his eyes.

Swiftly dropping onto your knees diagonal to him, you grab at his right arm and pull him around to you. His side crashes against the stove with the force but he just pants and grabs at your hair to pull you closer to his dick.

You push him into your mouth with one hand on his hip and the other curled around the back of his thigh. He lets out the most wrecked sound when you push him all the way to the back of your throat. You suck, hard, and watch as his head tips back and his mouth open in an O.

“Fuck,” he shudders when your tongue swirls around him. “Shit.”

You go high on your knees, grabbing at the base of his dick, and push it further. His hips stutter and his fingernails dig into your scalp, but you dismiss it when he goes nearly silent.

“Please,” you mutter, mouth full, and that’s what sends him barreling over the edge.

“Fuck!” He forces out between his teeth, and it immediately turns into a gasp. “Y/N.”

You just ‘mhm’ and open your mouth so he can see. He release his grip on your hair and pets down the side of your head, panting with his eyes locked on yours. You leave him with one final suck that makes him shiver and then pull back. You get to your feet, happy with yourself, and seal him with a kiss. He grunts into your mouth but reciprocates.

“I think the fish might be burning, honey,” you comment, peeking over at the stove, and he just closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“I fucking love you.” He grins, not quite catching his breath.

You don’t necessarily freeze, but you stay silent. You take a moment to just look at him, watching the way his eyes fall open and the corners of his mouth turn down as his grin falters.

“I love you, too,” is all you say, eyes twinkling, and then you open the fridge and turn away from him. “We don’t have any cranberry juice.”

You’re simply looking for the ingredients to your preferred drink, but a bashful blush finds its way onto your cheeks.

His heart and lungs start working again and he turns back to the stove, taking hold of the spatula.

“Looks like you’re going to have to use orange juice,” he says through his smile.

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justlillythinking · 8 months

Text

Abandoned corridors of the heart

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x female!reader

Timing: Season 1

Summary: You were on your own when the apocalypse started, not having much family or friends. That, however, changed when you met a grumpy redneck in the woods. In desperate need for help and a group, you chose to trust him just the slightest bit. You didn't expect him to change your life the way he did.

Warnings: large age gap, mild language, swear words, daryl being an ass, violence, blood and gore, character death, sexual content, just basic TWD stuff, topics like sexual assault and self harm

Autor's note: Hi! This is my first The Walking Dead fanfiction. It will start in season 1 and end in season 11 so this chapter will play in the first episode of TWD. Of course I will put in my own plot as well. The female character is supposed to be the reader, not an original character, so I won't describe her looks and you can imagine her however you want. She does have a backstory tho. The warnings above are for the story in general but I will try to put warnings for each chapter. That being said; have fun reading babes! <3

Chapter 1: The home you lost

You didn't know how it started or when exactly it started, but you knew it was spreading quickly. They were talking about the unknown illness on TV, playing it on the radio, warning as many people as they could. That's how you first heard about it - the terrifying sickness - you just didn't take it as seriously as you should have. You were living with your mother to that time - only being 19 - so you told her about it in hopes she would ease the little worry you were feeling.

She didn't - couldn't. You remember the look on her face when you told her - the slight widening of her eyes, the raise of her eyebrows, and the way her mouth parted the smallest bit in shock - and you knew she wouldn't be able to comfort you even if she wanted to because she was even more worried than you.

It was only a few hours later when you saw a weird figure on the street while you were walking home. It made you squint your eyes in order to see the walking sillouette a bit better, not that it helped in any way. You realised quickly that it wasn't a person - not a living person at least because, really, no living person could look like that and it made you shiver nervously. The groaning was getting louder the closer that 'thing' got to you and only then did you decide to continue moving and get home as soon as possible. You were lucky that day.

You decided against telling your mother about the incident. Not only because you weren't able to process what you saw yourself, but because you didn't want to cause her any more fear than she already had, so you kept quiet.

Everything was still pretty much normal - people went to work, friends were being met, and places were being visited. A few things did change though. Everyone was being more careful when they were outside, almost like they had a third eye on the back of their head. What scared you a little more were the people walking through your city - definitely too many to count and the masses only got bigger as days passed. Some of them were covered in blood while others were completely clean. It was clear to you why these people left their home and what their goal was and it made you question how long it would take until you would be one of them, deperately looking for a new home.

You and your mother decided to stay at home from that point on because it was simply too dangerous to step a foot outside. Both of you called in sick for work, making sure you wouldn't have any problems when all of this was over. It only took a few days until stores and businesses had to shut down or were run over by 'them'. Things got even worse when your food was starting to run out, barely getting you through these few days, and your mother offered to go out and get more from a nearby grocery store, but you declined. The last thing you wanted was your mother getting hurt.

Only another two days later did you change your mind. The food was officially out and you had to rationate the little bit of water that you had left. You knew someone had to go out and get supplies in order for you to survive. Your mother shook her head almost angrily when you asked her if you should accompany her on her way, telling you it was important for you to stay as safe as possible and that she would never allow you to put yourself in that kind of danger. A mother is supposed to protect her child.

So you waited inside your shared apartment, biting your nails in nervousness - a habit you just couldn't seem to overcome. You glanced at the old clock hanging on your wall - 5 minutes had passed. Under normal circumstances she would only need half an hour to come back with what you needed but given the current situation she would definitely need longer. That's why you weren't suspisious when your mother wasn't back after an hour had passed. But when the two hour mark was reached and there was sill no knock on your door, you felt your fingers twitch nervously.

You thought for a moment, not knowing what to do. But you knew rather quickly that you should go and look for her. So you put on your shoes and a jacket, grabbing the keys for your house before shutting the door behind you. Your heart was starting to beat quickier the more steps you took. It was your first time going outside since all of this - whatever 'this' was - started and only now could you see what kind of impact it had on your city; whole buildings were destroyed, the otherwise busy streets were empty - not a single moving car - and where couples and families were once walking together was now an empty sidewalk.

The only noises being heard were the wind blowing softly around you and disgusting groans in the distance. You kept your pace steady and fast as you looked for your parent but you quickly lost all the hope you had when you reached the little shop and there still wasn't a single sign of your mother. You opened the glass doors slowly, carfully stepping inside and your mouth opened in shock at the condition the shop was in. Shelves were pushed to the ground and almost all of them were empty.

You called the name of your mother softly but when you didn't get an answer and the store remained silent, your shoulders dropped in disappointment. You decided to take a few of the suppplies with you before you left the store again. 2 bottles of water - not much but enough for a few days - and a few packs of sliced bread. It was all you could carry since you didn't take a bag with you.

Your heart made a big jump inside your chest and a little squeal left your lips when you saw a head between two fallen shelves. It was rotten and somehow a light shade of gray, it's teeth yellow. You would have covered your nose if your hands wouldn't have been holding the things you needed to live because the smell was just so disgusting, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

It was time to go back, you decided. You looked around once more before you turned around and pushed trough the doors, leaving the body behind. You kept your eyes open on your way home, hoping you would catch a sight of your mother - without success. Still, you were trying to think positive; maybe she would already be home by now, waiting and worrying for you.

You were wrong. The house was empty and the only thing that had been waiting for you was silence. A deep breath left your mouth as you walked into your kitchen, not even bothering to take off your shoes, and put down the food and water. You lowered your head, putting your hands on the kitchen counter for stability. You felt alone - so utterly alone - and you missed your parent more than words could describe. Guilt was bubbling up inside you because you let her leave. You should have gone with her, helped her.

Only when you opened your eyes again did you realise you were crying, soft tears running down your face and making your head ache. Another shaky breath left you as you sat down on your couch. You left the front door unlocked because there was still a chance of your mother coming back and you wanted her to be able to get inside at any time of the day. The chance was slim but it was there.

It was slowly starting to get dark outside when you got up to eat some of the bread you found, taking the water with you as you sat on the couch again. You thought it would be the best to stay on the couch for the night since it was close to the front door and you wanted to be here if your mother came back and you knew you wouldn't be able to get any sleep anyway.

That's what you did for the next few days. Eat, wait on the couch, sleep for a few hours, and wait again. But she didn't come back and at this point you started to understand that it would probably stay that way - that you wouldn't get to see her again - and it made you cry harder than you thought was possible. Still, you didn't dare to lock the door because maybe, just maybe, she would come one day.

Things were going okay until you woke up one night with noises coming from your door. It was dark outside and your clock proved that it was way past midnight. Your were frozen for a moment but you moved quickly when the door opened, a smile forming on your lips. It faded as quickly as it came when you realised that whoever was in your house definitely wasn't your mother. And before you could think of what to do, the figure was standing right in front of you, a clicking sound filling the air before he pointed something at you. It was too dark to recognize it but you could imagine what it was.

"Stop," the voice spoke and you were pretty sure it was a male talking to you. You didn't dare to say anything in fear of saying the wrong thing. "Don't move," he spoke again.

It was quiet for a few moments before you heard his voice once again, "Do you have food?" He asked you in a rather harsh tone. You nodded your head as slow as possible, lifting your hand and pointing in the direction of your kitchen, "Just bread," you whispered, "You can take it - you can take it all - just leave again, please."

The man started walking backwards in small, heavy steps but still kept the gun pointed at you. He grabbed a pack of sliced bread and looked at it before he put it down again and chuckled quietly, "Oh, baby, this is my home now. Feels safe enough here."

He shushed you when you started to talk, pleading for him to just leave you alone. "You can choose how you want this to end," he walked closer again, stepping right in front of you and pressing the cold end of the pistol against your forehead. "Option one: you're gonna put on your shoes and walk straight out that door," he nodded is head into the directon of your front door, "You won't come back and everything will be fine. No one has to get hurt."

You winced slightly when he pressed the gun even harder against you and you shook your head silently. You didn't want to leave - you had nowhere else to go and you would never survive out there - especially on your own.

"Option two: you will refuse to leave and well," his voice got quieter towards the end and he trailed the gun down the side of your face, "There won't be enough space for the both of us."

You sayed still as you thought about his words and you felt the need to cry again because you knew that either option would mean your death. That man would kill you if you decided against going and if you decided to go and try your luck out there, you would probably die within the first day. Staying inside your home - which held some of your most important memories - would be the easier death. Definitely less painful.

Still, you went to put on your shoes in slow steps, signaling the man before you that you wouldn't do anything stupid and were planning on leaving. Why did you think option one was the better one? Because it gave you hope and at least the smallest bit of a chance to survive.

The intruder chuckled again, "Good choice."

Your shaking hands made you fumble with your shoelaces before you walked towards the still open door, giving the person one last look before leaving the house you've been living in for the past 19 years behind. As soon as you could hear him close the door you let your tears fall, allowing yourself to be weak for the millionth time this week because how could everything go so wrong so damn quickly.

You didn't know where to go or what to do because you didn't even get the chance to take a bag or anything similar with you. You were alone - lost the only person you were still close with and now even your home. It made your heart squeeze painfully in your chest and you just wished it would end - wished that your life how it was just a few weeks ago would return.

The first place you visited was the shop from a few days ago in hopes of finding food once again. You weren't so lucky this time - the shop was completely empty, not even a single pack of anything left. So you went to a few other shops but the only thing you could catch at the end of the day was one can of coke. Obviously, other people were just as desperate and needed food and water just as much as you did.

A few days later you found yourself in the woods a few miles away from your home town and you were honestly suprised you were still alive. You hadn't eaten since you got kicked out of your own house and the coke ran out after a few nights. The weather was good for the most part but the nights were really cold and not having a jacket with you wasn't making it easier.

Luckily for you, you didn't really have many enounters with those 'rotten people'. You saw a few but you always managed to hide successfully before they could cause you any harm. You wouldn't have known how to defend yourself if one of them would've attacked you - you wouldn't have known what to do. You didn't know a lot about them in general. You knew they were spreading the illness by biting still living people but other than that you were completely clueless.

Your clothes were drenched in dirt just as well as your exposed skin and not having any way to shower just made you feel worse about the whole situation. A few cuts were decorating your left arm caused by your stupidity when you tripped over your own feet and scratched your arm against a tree when you tried to catch yourself.

Your feet were screaming in pain after hours of walking and looking for something - anything. A place to stay, something edible or something to drink or maybe even your mother. By now, you were sure she was dead - or one of the 'walking deads' - and you slowly started to come to terms with it. Still, the uncertainty was killing you. You needed to see her - needed to say goodbye to the person who had raised you for the past 19 years.

You decided to take a break and took a seat at a nearby tree, leaning your back against the hard surface when you felt like your feet wouldn't carry you for much longer. You leaned your head back in exhaustion, letting yourself relax for at least a few minutes. God, how you wished to be home in your bed right now, your mother sitting in the living room and watching her typical shows. You missed those times. So much.

Thinking about your mother was always hard. Losing her was the biggest loss you ever had to face in your life. She was always a very loving and caring person and you were so incredibly thankful for the good life she was able to give to you. Not having a father figure made you both grow really close, making her not just your mother but also your best friend.

It was truly-

Your thoughts got interrupted when you heard a loud grunt echoing through the woods and your first reflex was to jump up from the sitting position you were in and look around you in quick motions. You couldn't see anything near you - no danger or somthing that could cause you any harm. You were about to continue walking when you heard yet another grunt.

You pondered for a moment before you decided to walk into the direction the noises were coming from. You had no idea why you did what you did but something inside you told you it was the right thing. You picked up a stick from the ground just in case you had to defend yourself.

It only took you a few seconds to find the source of the noises and your mouth opened in pure shock as you watched to scene in front of you. Right there, on the ground in a forest, was a man lying on his back with his arms high above him, trying to hold a dead person away from him. Its head was dangerously close to the strangers face, its teeth making a loud sound as it tried to take a bite.

You were frozen for a moment, not knowing what exactly you should do - not that there was much you could do. You were weakened because of the days you had to get thorugh without having any food. You thought about turning around and hide once again but you quickly decided against it. Instead, you thightened the grip you had on the stick in your hand because you had to at least try and help the man.

So you took all the braveness you had left inside of you together and moved as fast as you possibly could, raising your arm and smacking the stick against the creatures head with force. Your hit forced the dead person to let go of the man and roll over the tiniest bit. It wasn't much but it was enough for the man to get back on his feet and grab the crossbow - which was leaning against a tree a few meters away - and pointed it at the creature. One of his arrows pierced through its head right when it started to walk into your direction.

You winced slightly in fear and shock, staring at the body that was lying right in front of your feet, blood oozing out of the wound. Your hands were shaking as both, you and the man, were breathing heavily. Swallowing once, you slowly raised your eyes to look at the man you just saved and your heart started beating even more wildly when you saw that the crossbow was now directed at you.

"Drop it," the man spoke and the gruffness his voice was holding sent a shiver down your spine. You were confused for a second until you realised that he was talking about your stick. You found it quite weird - funny almost - how he seemed to feel threatened by a simple stick while he was holding a damn crossbow. Still, you had no wish to die so you dropped the stick slowly, letting it fall to the ground with a quiet thump.

It was quiet between the both of you and only after a minute of silence did you decide to speak to him, "I don't mean any harm."

He didn't answer but his eyes stayed on you, studying you for a few more seconds before he finally decided to lower his weapon as he seemed to realise that you had saved him and that you definitely weren't armed besides that pathetic little stick. He looked around in hopes of seeing the squirrel he had been hunting but when he didn't, he turned around and started walking away.

Your body reacted before your mind could even catch up as you took a few quick and fast steps after him, "Wait- wait a second." And once again you didn't know why you did it but you hadn't had a conversation with another living person in days and it made you desperate. You didn't want him to go - didn't want to be all alone again, just waiting for one of those things to catch you.

He stopped abruptly and turned around in one swift movement. The words seemed to die in your throat at the look he gave you. His eyes were glaring at you and they seemed so distant - almost cold - and they were intimidating you to no beyond.

"Ya gonna talk or what?"

His southern accent was thick and filled your ears, causing you to stay silent for a few more seconds, just staring at him before you finally found your voice again, "Sorry I-," you paused for a moment beacuse you didn't even know what exactly you wanted to say to him, you just knew that you didn't want him to leave you alone, "Where are you going?"

He furrowed his eyebrows into an even harder glare and let out a small scoff as if he couldn't believe that you had actually asked him such a thing. It made you shrink back even more, rocking on your feet in nervousness.

"None of yer damn business," he grumbled quietly and you honestly didn't know what you expected since it only made sense that he wouldn't tell a complete stranger anything about himself. Still, you didn't give up and once he turned around and started walking once again, you spoke up for a third time.

"Please, don't leave me here," you felt ridiculous begging him like that but he was the only chance you had. It had been days since you last saw a living person - another human being - and you just weren't ready to let go of the situation beacuse who knew when you were going to meet somebody else - if you would meet somebody else, "It has been days since I've last eaten or had something to drink. If you have a safe place to stay, please, take me with you."

He looked at you again and was suprised to see tears forming in your eyes. He continued walking as a another scoff left his lips, "Ya don' really think I'd take a stranger with me, do ya?"

His quiestion made you shrug to which he gave you a side glance, "Please," was all you could say even though you knew that it probably wouldn't do much to convince him but you still tried because, what else were you supposed to do?

Your pleading made him think about it more than he would have liked because as much as he didn't want to admit it, he woul've been dead if you wouldn't have saved him and you actually didn't seem that bad. He wasn't sure if he was even allowed to bring people back to the camp since he and his brother were pretty new there as well and big, mighty Shane was the 'leader' - at least that's what he liked to call himself - making all the decisions. He had to roll his eyes at the mere thought of that guy.

Then again, he really didn't care about Shane's opinions since he and his brother would leave them soon anyway. So whatever impact you could or would have on the group wouldn't be his problem. That's what convinced him.

He gave you one last look before he nodded, "If ya even think 'bout doin' somethin' stupid-"

He didn't have to finsish his sentence as you nodded your head, "I won't."

He gave you another nod before he continued walking and you took that as your clue to follow him. His steps were big and fast, making it quite hard for you to follow him. Other than your heavy breathing and loud steps, everything was quiet, giving you time to actually think about your current situation. The realisation that you wouldn't be alone anymore almost brought a smile to your face. Almost.

"So, what's your name?"

The man walking in front of you looked behind him at the sound of your voice, an annyoed expression forming on his face, almost making you feel bad for speaking up.

"Daryl," he answered eventually, his voice only a quiet grumble. You nodded and waited for him to ask about you but when he didn't, you told him your name on your own accord.

"I'm (y/n)," your voice was almost as quiet as a whisper and when he didn't show any reaction at all, you thought that he didn't hear you but he did nod eventually. You quickly understood that he was a man of very few words or maybe it was just because it was you. Either way, the walk was quiet and neither of you said another word.

It took about an hour until you finally reached a bigger group of people. You were walking up a small hill before you stopped in your tracks at the amount of humans in front of you. 14 - you could count 14 faces - 15 with Daryl and 16 with you. It took you a moment to get out of the trance you were in because you really didn't expect to ever see such a large group of living people again.

Your eyes widened when you saw a man walking towards you and Daryl in fast steps and by the look on his face, you could only assume he wasn't happy.

"What the fuck?" the man raised his voice, shaking his head in disbelief as he eyed you before he looked at Daryl, "What the fuck is this?"

Daryl shook his head in annoyance and rolled his eyes at the man because, really, who did he think he was? He walked past Shane as a scowl formed on his lips, "Found 'er in the woods," was all he answered with a small shrug of his shoulders.

You felt incredibly out of place as you watched to two men arguing with each other and the lingering looks of the rest of the group made you feel even worse. They were looking at you as if you were some kind of enemy - an outsider - and you knew that nobody really wanted you here. So you lowered your head until all you could see was the dirty ground - the only escape you had.

How could you bring her with you?

She's a stranger!

You're putting us all in danger!

The male voices got louder and if the world wouldn't have been so fucked up, you would've turned around and left as fast as your feet could've carried you. You lifted your head in shock when you felt someone standing in front of you, hiding the sun from you.

"Make yourself useful if you wanna stay here," the man spoke harshly, staring you down, "And don't even try anything stupid, understood?"

Your mouth opened and closed a few times as you tried to find your words but after a few seconds of silence you simply nodded instead of saying something.

He nodded as well and placed one and on his hip, lifting the other to point into the direction of a few women, "Go and help them do the laundry."

You would have given him a piece of your mind if you weren't so damn desperate for a place to stay, so instead of telling him how disrespecful he was being and that you were far more useful, you gave him a slight smile and nodded once again before walking away. You could feel their eyes burning holes into your body as your feet carried you to the pair of women.

You waved softly and murmured a quiet 'hey' as you reached them. They stared at you with a look you couldn't fully describe but you would say it was something between fear and uncertainty before one of them spoke up.

"I'm Carol," the woman spoke while she looked anywhere but your eyes and you thought that she seemed just as shy as you, which kinda comforted you. She had really short hair, most of it being gray already, her eyes blue, and her very thin lips were formed into a very slim smile.

"Lori," the other woman said with a small nod. She was beautiful. Long, wavy, brown hair that matched the color of her eyes and her lips were also formed into a smile.

The fact that they were being nice and pretty much friendly to you eased your discomfort a little more, so you let your own smile play on your lips, "(y/n)."

You walked closer until you were standing next to Carol and you decided to follow the mans instructions, copying the womens actions and hanging the soaked pieces of cloth on the clothes line. It almost felt good because it gave you a sense of the life you had been living just a few weeks ago. The three of you made slight conversation - basic smalltalk, them mostly trying to get to know you a little bit better - and before you knew it, the work was done - the laundry basket empty.

"Is there anything else I can help you with?" you asked the two women you were hoping would become your friends soon but before one of them could answer your quiestion, there was a much deeper voice sounding from behind you.

"Hey there," you turned around and were greeted by a man looking at you with kind eyes. He was pretty old you would guess, his beard and hair painted gray and white, "I'm Dale," he offered you his hand to shake, which you accepted a bit hesitantly, "Thought I'd give you a tent so you have a place to sleep in. You're lucky, I had a spare one in the back of my RV," he gave you a bag that he had been holding in his other hand.

The smile that showed on your lips was the most genuine one in a long time, your tensed shoulders relaxing at the kindness he was showing you, "Thank you, Dale." He grinned before walking away again, leaving you with Carol and Lori.

"Go and set it up," Lori said, "We're going to cook in the mean time."

You didn't argue much, they managed to do it without you before so they'll definetily manage now. With a nod you searched for an empty spot and quickly found one. It took you a while until you were finally finished, it being harder than you thought it would be. It was pretty dark by the time you were done and when you looked around you could see the group starting to eat.

You opened the zipper of your tent, sitting down softly and watching them from afar. After all it wasn't your food to eat and you didn't feel like you had a right to sit with them as if you were one of them. You were sure most of them still didn't like nor trust you. Carol walked by after a few minutes, holding a bowl of something to eat and stopping once she saw you alone, "You don't wanna sit with us?"

You shrugged, "I just- I don't wanna intrude."

She scoffed a bit, it almost sounded like a chuckle, "You're not. Come on, I'm sure you're hungry."

She was right, you really were hungry and as if your stomach heard Carol as well, it decided to grumble right in that moment. You blushed a bit when her smile widened but stood up and nodded with an 'okay'. You followed her as she brought you to the rest of the group and once again their eyes were on you - some kind, others not so kind - but you tried to ignore it as best as you could as Carol gave you a bowl of food. Your eyes locked with Daryl's for a second but the glare he gave you made you look away only a second later.

And you actually felt quite okay because even though you had lost a home, you felt like you just found a home.

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justlillythinking · 9 months

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YALL I GIT FUCKING DELETED OUT OF THIS ACCOUNT AND I JUST GOT LOGGED BACK IN 😭😭😭 SO MUCH HAS HAPPENED

#avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #jake sully #jake sully smut #loak #neteyam fanfiction #avatar headcanons

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justlillythinking · 1 year

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AWWWW

— 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮

the deets — lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

the who — lo'ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 10.2k (rip yall)

the tags — (one-sided) rivals-to-lovers, angsty angsty, hurt / comfort, reader gives lo'ak a big ol smooch (perhaps more than one), lo’ak is the biggest dumbass and because of this he’s mean asf, reader has a big ol heart and just really wants lo’ak to like her, aged!up characters for maturity’s sake.

the warnings — language, lo'ak is in luv but doesn't realize it, he's in denial that the feelings could be reciprocated, this is super dramatic so put your seat belts on!

the notes — was feeling extra sad and wanted to write something self-indulgent. this lovely anon requested something, and i used their ask as inspiration to finish this beast. fine line, bags, and love in dark are the three main songs i listened to finish this, so if you wanna be in your feels, have a listen LMAO. despite all the support, i’m still so mf nervous posting this ejsjsjdjs

masterlist

SOMETHING UGLY KINDLES IN THE PIT of Lo'ak's stomach at the mere mention of your name. It's sour on his tongue, bitter in his brain. He doesn't know when he's started to feel like this, started to feel absolutely dreadful anytime he'd hear the timbre of your voice.

It's warm, thick like nectar and it makes him sick.

Ever since you all were little, the elders crooned over what a great girl you were growing into; strong, intelligent, beautiful. It made him boil how much they'd sing your praises, the high esteem everyone held you in as one of the clan's most talented.

Something dull would pick at him being compared to his older brother, but nothing burned more than being compared to you.

Maybe it's because it's always implied whenever your names share the same sentences, that lingering implication that he could be more like you. The clan fans the flames of your mere existence while Lo'ak is snuffed out like a dying fire.

He hates it. He hates you.

He thinks.

It'd be easier to, if you were awful behind the scenes. Arrogant, stuck up, but you're none of those things. You're kind, gentle, mighty when you need to be. It doesn't help that you shine like the brightest star, engulfing everyone in your light, in your warmth.

But Lo'ak resists. He sees right through you, sees right through every saccharine smile you send him. He can see it in your eyes, how you really see him. Despite standing a full head taller than you, he sees the way you look down your nose at him.

It grates his nerves, how disgustingly sweet you are towards him despite all attempts to rebuff you.

Certainly doesn’t soothe his ego when you always seem to be around the bend every time he gets bitched at by the clan, eyes soft and filled with pity. To add insult to injury, you frequently tail him like a shadow after these moments when all he wants is to be alone.

Like now, you linger.

It's after dinner and Kiri and Spider stand before him. They come together like the three points of a triangle and you stand an awkward distance away from them.

Kiri notices you first, her face splitting into a big smile as she waves you over.

Lo'ak breathes a deep sigh before locking eyes with Spider who tries his best to suppress an amused grin.

“Hi,” you chirp and Lo'ak can't help but roll his eyes.

Spider and Kiri greet you eagerly. Lo'ak simply nods his head in acknowledgement before tightening his fist around his dagger.

“We going or what?” he finally says.

You perk up.

“Where are you guys heading off to?” you ask curiously, hands clasped behind your back.

Spider opens his mouth to answer, but Lo'ak cuts him off quickly.

“No where important,” he says, unsure if you'll blab about their whereabouts to the elders, or worse, his parents.

You roll your lips and shift on your feet.

“Can I come?” you ask hesitantly, eyes hopeful.

Kiri's smile grows as she links her arm with yours.

“No,” he says sharply. “Absolutely not.”

Your face falls and something pulls inside his chest when you fail meet his gaze, your frown barely perceptible.

You make a move to pull from Kiri's grasp, but her arm tightens through yours. She levels Lo'ak with a weighty glare and you fidget uncomfortably under his narrowed eyes.

“Don't worry about it,” you say, like someone's hit a reset button. You smile that pretty smile and Lo'ak wants to scream. "It's okay, I think Rutan needs help with clean up."

You slip from Kiri's grasp and the three watch you walk off.

“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” Spider scoffs a disbelieving laugh.

“She's just gonna tag along so she can snitch,” Lo'ak grumbles.

“Oh c'mon,” Kiri argues. “________ just wants friends.”

Lo'ak sneers.

“I don't want to be friends with her,” he says firmly, knuckles white around the handle of his knife.

“Weirdo,” Spider mumbles. “She’s cute. Think she likes you.”

Lo'ak's spine stiffens.

“It's an act” Lo'ak grumbles. “She just wants to look good in front of the elders to keep up whatever nice girl show she's putting on.”

Kiri rolls her eyes hard.

There are moments when Lo'ak thinks he's being harsh, but he can't help himself. It's like he loses all semblance of a filter when it comes to you.

“Hi, Lo'ak,” you greet him sweetly, lowering yourself onto the fallen log he's perched on, fashioning arrows to practice with later on in the evening with Neteyam.

He shifts away from you, putting the distance of two bodies between the two of you as he pauses his task at hand.

“Hi,” he says flatly.

“Can I help?” you ask tentatively, fingers twitching towards one of the untouched sticks in a pile next to his feet.

His kicks them closer to himself, out of your reach before leveling you with a sharp glare.

“No thanks,” he says quickly and you recoil slowly, letting out a shaky laugh before fixing that stupid smile on your pretty face.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, straightening in your seat.

A silence so uncomfortably palpable settles over the two of you as you shift so that your knees are turned towards him.

His throat bobs when his gaze travels from your little toes all the way up to your inquisitive gaze, golden and searching. It makes something unruly settle in his gut and he turns his attention back to carving his arrows.

“Do you need something?” he breaks the silence finally. “I'm kinda busy.”

You bite your lip before scooting a little closer to Lo'ak's hunched figure.

“My birthday's coming up,” you start.

“I'm aware,” Lo'ak almost scoffs.

It's all the clan has been able to talk about for the past few days. How they'd be able to prepare for the golden girl's next birth cycle and what they'd be able to do to make you smile the brightest.

“Your birthday is a week before,” you state and his head whips towards you.

“How do you know that?” he asks sharply, accusation heavy in his gruff tone.

You flinch and he falters for a moment before your smile simply widens.

“We grew up together, Lo'ak,” you say and the way his name sounds from your mouth sounds absolutely heavenly. “You're my friend.”

Friend.

He scowls at the term.

“We're not friends,” he bites back.

If the statement bothers you, you don't show it, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before putting on a brave face.

“I want to celebrate with you,” you say shyly.

“Hard pass,” he says too quickly, gathering his sticks and fashioned arrows under his grasp.

He leaves you in the clearing on your own.

You must be fucking with him. You have to be. It'd be the only explanation for why Jake pulls him aside a few nights later and tells him that you've requested to work with him and Neteyam during archery practice.

“No,” he says stiffly, shaking his head.

His dad levels him with a hard glare and Lo'ak sighs deeply.

“She's a nuisance, Dad,” he argues. “Me and Neteyam are making good progress with our training and we'll have to start at square one if she joins.”

“Lo'ak, this isn't an ask,” Jake says sternly.

“But, Dad!”

“Lo'ak.”

Lo'ak huffs, snatching his bow and quiver angrily before storming off.

“You're doing great,” Neteyam says to you once the three of you have convened in the training circle.

The three arrows you've shot have all landed within centimeters of the mark and to say that Neteyam is impressed is an understatement. Lo'ak, on the other hand, fumes not-so-silently as he tears his arrows from his target.

Yet again, you have another person wrapped around your finger and it makes his blood simmer as he assumes his position at the marker and loads his arrow. It splinters through the air and hits the target right on the bullseye. The arrow punctures through the hide and lodges its way into the wood from the sheer force of Lo’ak’s shot.

You start at him moon-eyed, lush lips breaking into a full smile.

“Perfect shot,” you observe. “That was awesome.”

Lo’ak scans your features hesitantly before his gaze flits to his older brother, waiting for any acknowledgment that he’d done a great job, but Neteyam is taking notes on the arrows still stuck in the fabric of your own target.

His heart sinks.

“Fuck this,” Lo’ak grumbles, bundling all of his belongings.

He stalks through the clearing, past his brother, to leave you two.

He doesn’t know what fuels the fire more, the fact that Neteyam didn’t even bat an eye at the feat they’d been practicing for for the past three weeks because he was too immersed in you, or the fact that you bore witness to his first clean shot and gave him that sickeningly sweet smile that made his stomach turn.

“Where are you going?” Neteyam sighs.

“Somewhere you two aren’t,” he grumbles under his breath, ducking through the brush of the lofty forest.

You lick your lips, locking eyes with Neteyam as you give him a bashful grin and slowly break away to follow Lo’ak’s path.

He isn’t far ahead as you push through the vines and low-hanging leaves, the path lined with large plants and the spindly roots of the looming trees. The grass is plush between your toes as you scamper to follow Lo’ak from a distance, watching as his lithe body climbs through the dense flora.

“Why are you following me?” he calls after a few dozen paces, stopping in the middle of the path to whirl on his heel.

His golden eyes are syrupy, warm despite the edge, and you can’t help but flash him your pearly whites in a genuine smile that takes up your dimpled cheeks.

“Why’d you run off?” you ask him. “You were doing so well!”

His chest rises and falls with a scoff.

“You can give it a rest, you know?” Lo’ak says flatly, fist so tight around his bow he feels like he’ll crush the wood.

Your expression morphs, eyebrows furrowing in a way that makes Lo’ak throat bob, something pinching behind his ribcage.

“What?” you ask, frown marring your pretty face.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you can stop acting like you wanna be friends with me,” Lo’ak says matter-of-factly.

“You are my friend,” you protest quietly.

Lo’ak rolls his eyes.

“Dude, whatever,” he mutters, turning his back on you.

“Is it so wrong?” you murmur and he stops in his tracks, refusing to meet your gaze. “To be friends?”

Friends.

That stupid fucking word again.

Lo’ak bites his tongue and stalks off, leaving you on the path.

Neteyam rips him a new one when he sees him at dinner later that night. Lo’ak hangs his head as Neteyam digs in.

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Neteyam asks, hand squeezing his shoulder as they stand a handful of meters away from the main circle.

As his eyes wander, he notices you sitting with his sister, head thrown back in laughter that glitters and wafts with the rising smoke of the fire. He swallows turning his attention back to his older brother.

“Just don’t like her,” he admits. “I want her to leave me alone.”

“You don’t like her or you like her too much?” Neteyam asks, brow bone raised.

Lo’ak’s face scrunches.

“Ew, no,” he blurts. “Why would I—”

“________ just wants to fit in,” he sighs. “She has trouble making friends.”

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Lo’ak mocks. “I don’t know why Kiri and Spider are always up her ass, she’s—”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warns.

“Dude, everyone is always ________ this, _________ that! I don’t understand what’s so great about her—”

A throat clears and the brothers both turn their attention to the newcomer. Lo’ak could groan in frustration seeing that you’ve abandoned your seat and now stand nearby with two wooden plates.

“They’re going to start cleaning up soon,” you say hesitantly. “Wanted to bring you some.”

Neteyam takes it graciously from you, nodding his head in thanks while Lo’ak stares down at the plate you’d arranged for him, abundant in vegetables and thick cuts of meat.

“No thanks,” he says flatly.

You try to coax him.

“C’mon Lo’ak, you say gently. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

“No thanks,” he repeats stonily, holding his hand up.

You offer up the plate again.

“Lo’ak–“

“I said no thank you,” he grunts, annoyed.

He’d only meant to push it back towards you, but one second it’s in your hands, the next you’re wearing dinner, the plate clattering onto the ground.

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam scolds.

“Shit, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” you breathe an airy laugh and Lo’ak freezes when he hears your breath hitch. “It was an accident.”

“Oh, ________…” Neteyam sighs, but you’re picking up the plate and scurrying off, ignoring the nearby snickering.

“Whatever you got going on, you need to cool it,” Jake scolds him in the family tent after dinner that night. “________ is a good girl, she’s trying to find her place. Can’t really do that if you’re gonna be a jerk to her all the time.”

Lo’ak resists the urge to roll his eyes because, yet again, someone is sticking up for you, admonishing him about how he could be nicer, how he could take you under his wing, how he–

“What about me?” Lo’ak argues. “I tell her to leave me alone all the time, but she doesn’t listen. Why do I have to be nice to someone who doesn’t respect–”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jake thunders. “You haven’t even tried being her friend.”

“Why should I?” Lo’ak counters.

“Because maybe you two are more alike than you’d care to learn,” Jake says knowingly. “Now go apologize.”

“Dad!”

“Go, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak sucks in a deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out through his nose.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbles, ducking from the tent into the humid night air.

He starts into the jungle, fingers brushing over the leaves and petals of the plants and flowers. He takes the moment to regulate his pounding heart in his chest before trying to wrack his brain for any words that he could scrounge into a believable apology.

When he crosses the glowing waters of a skinny brook, something rustles nearby and his hand is on the hilt of his dagger in the blink of an eye.

He turns to face the noise, knife drawn, but then you emerge and his body relaxes a fraction.

“Fuck, ________, you scared me,” he sighs in relief.

You fidget and swallow down the lump in your throat.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

A brief silence dawns the two of you and Lo’ak notes that you’ve cleaned up from the evening meal’s debacle, now wearing a longer loincloth threaded with round pearlescent beads that refract the luminescence of the surrounding forest.

Your grasp tightens around a leather bound journal and for a moment, he wonders what you could be writing about.

When you follow his gaze, you shyly tuck the journal behind your back and give him an uneasy smile.

“I wanted to–”

“I came to–”

Your words clash and you breathe a little laugh through your nose as you gaze at him with brilliant eyes. You start closing the distance and Lo’ak’s hands grow clammy.

“You first,” you offer.

Whatever threads of an apology he’d crafted in the moments prior have evaporated now that you stand before him, absolutely glowing.

“Lo’ak?” Your head tilts and his cheeks warm.

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “For what happened at dinner.”

You shake your head quickly.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him, reaching out to touch him.

He recoils, clearing his throat as he retreats to put an ample amount of distance between the two of you.

You eye the berth and something shutters across your face as you rock back on your heels and flash him another uneasy smile.

You haven’t even tried being her friend, his dad’s words echo like a call in the night. Maybe you two are more alike that you care to learn.

Were you? You and Lo’ak were as different as they come, you molded by the love and adoration of the clan, him built up by the lessons and lectures he received from his parents and Neteyam.

“Where are you going?” you ask, blowing by the previous conversation.

He shrugs.

“Dunno,” he admits. “I was looking for you.”

The way you freeze is almost covert, your lips rolling as you try to hide the smile threatening to split your face.

“Oh,” you hum. “Wanna go for a walk?”

No, he wants to say. He absolutely does not want to spend anymore time with you than he has to. Likes to believe that he wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were to never see you again, but you’re looking at him expectantly and his dad’s words are like a mantra in his head, so he agrees begrudgingly.

It’s awkward at first, silent except for the natural soundtrack of the vicarious jungle. But like you do so well, you break the silence and Lo’ak has to resist rolling his eyes for the third time that night.

“What are your favorite colors?” you ask suddenly.

“I dunno, green?” he offers.

“Are you sure?” you laugh quietly.

Lo’ak thinks a moment before nodding his head.

“Yeah, green,” he finalizes. “And blue.”

He barely notices that you’d fallen behind, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees that you’re scratching something into your little journal.

“And your favorite fruit?” you press, nose still between the pages.

Lo’ak breathes out a laugh and your head shoots up.

“What? You gonna send this list to the lab?” Lo’ak asks.

You give him a shy smile, shifting on your feet.

“No,” you say softly, then whisper to yourself, “just compiling a list to win your heart.”

Lo’ak barely hears you, ears twitching as his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What?” he asks.

You snap your notebook shut, shaking your head quickly as you pad through the grass to catch up to him.

“Nothing.”

Something ripples in the fabric after that night, you and Neteyam both notice when Lo’ak enters the training clearing the next afternoon and greets you with a nod instead of flat out ignoring your presence like he had the last training session.

And you think that the moment is fleeting, a one off, but as the days progress, you realize that maybe Lo’ak is finally softening around you.

He stays for entire lessons, the most minute of smiles twitching at his lips whenever you compliment his shots. He waits near the edge for you as you pack up your things, and while the walk back to the village is a quiet one, you bask in his company, triumphant when he doesn’t run off.

And while your evening walks are few and far between, you savor the moments he affords you, wedging yourself between him the crumbling walls of his facade.

Tonight is one of those moments, sitting on adjacent branches overlooking the lively forest, when Lo’ak lets you peek farther into his life than he’d originally intended.

“He never understands,” he sighs, popping a few berries from his satchel past his lips.

Tonight’s topic is his father and you listen intently, eyes fixed on the way he reclines on the branch and looks up at the stars.

“I try hard, you know? To make everyone proud, but all they see is my failure,” he says, obviously annoyed. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough.”

“You do great things, Lo’ak,” you say quietly, the first words you’ve said all night.

And like your voice is a reminder, Lo’ak’s spine goes rigid, throat bobbing as he realizes that he may have said too much to you. He’s getting too comfortable and you’re all the willing to absorb every insecurity and every worry he has.

But something about quiet moments like these makes him loose-lipped, eyes fluttering to where you’ve got your notebook balanced in the seam of your thighs, scrawling something on the pages as you eat your own berries.

The words are leaving him before he can stop them.

“Easy for you to say,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.”

The laugh that escapes you startles him and a few of the berries he was about to devour slips from his fingers and plunk down the leaves.

“I’m not perfect,” you assure him.

“Only someone who’s perfect would say that,” Lo’ak grumbles, peering over the edge of the branches to spot his fallen fruit. “The whole village loves you, everyone’s always so ready to bat for you.”

You look down at the pages of your journal with a sad smile.

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit quietly. “Everyone’s watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up.”

Lo’ak shifts uncomfortably.

You continue.

“And most of the villagers our age don’t like me,” you say, thumbing one of the pages. “They say I kiss ass, that I’m always trying to keep a leg up.”

Lo’ak winces, knowing that he’s the source of at least one of those sentiments.

“The elders think you’re honorable,” Lo’ak argues gently. “You’re talented, you have something to offer the people.”

“Honor means nothing if you’re bound by it,” you say finally, closing the cover to your journal. “If anything, I want to be more like you.”

“Like me?” Lo’ak asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You nod, smiling at him.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think you’re brave, fearless. And even if you care what people think, you do what you want.”

Lo’ak is quiet, taken aback by your confession.

Before he can respond, you’re gathering your things, bidding him a warm farewell as you begin climbing down the tree to disappear into the night.

After that night, you think that maybe you’re just imagining things, that you’re reading too much into the fact that Lo’ak has begun to finally act like you exist, but then Kiri says something and the hope sends your heart soaring.

“Seems like he finally got his head out of his ass,” she says a few mornings later as you two stand near a shallow stream, eyes peeled for any fish you two could bring back to the village.

“Think so?” you ask nervously, arrow trapping the flailing fish to the pebbles of the stream’s bed.

Kiri shrugs.

“He actually pays you mind now,” Kiri observes. “That’s a step up for sure. I think you just need to spend more time with him.”

You smile, splashing through shallow waters to capture the fish and add it to the growing pile in the basket between you and the middle Sully.

“Yeah?” you wonder

So you test the theory, basket filled with various peeled fruits and a little container of nectar you squeezed from the petals of a flower.

It doesn’t take long to hunt him down. When you enter the training circle, he’s packing up his things, quiver strapped to his back and bow in his fist.

Before you make yourself known, he’s turning on his heel to face you, eyes wild as he swallows down the lump in his throat.

He’d be the last to admit that the last night you two spent together was branded in his brain, that his mouth had dried up so much so he felt his tongue could crack.

There were so many implications in your words and it horrified him, scared him so much that he knew he couldn’t let you that close again.

But now you stand before him, pretty as can be, hopeful even, and he’s at a war with himself, absolutely caught between resenting you for being everything he’s not and giving into the draw.

“Hi,” you greet, basket heavy in your hands.

You look more radiant than usual, skirt brushing the forest floor, the woven vine of your top banded to expose your midriff.

“Hey,” he replies hesitantly.

“Where you going?” you ask curiously.

His throat bobs as he gestures behind him.

“Hunting,” is all he says.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you ask eagerly.

He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Because things are shifting and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the change. If he’ll be able to admit to himself that you’re wearing him thin, that you make him feel things he’s never felt before and that it makes him feel like he has no control.

Because when it boils down to it, you make him lose control, make him lose his filter, and make him feel every emotion twice as hard.

“No,” he says.

And in that moment, you feel like you’re back at square one, watching as his eyes turn stony and his jaw sets firmly.

“You shouldn’t go hunting on your own,” you say softly. “Will someone be with you?”

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I’m fine.”

“I can go with you!” you offer. “I thought maybe we could sit by the stream and talk, but we can go hunting instead. We can–”

“No,” he says again, pinning you with eyes so lethal, it makes you wonder if you really had imagined the moments you shared with him, if you had imagined Kiri telling you that she saw it too.

You try again anyways.

“It’ll be good practice and–”

“I said no, ________,” he barks. “You’re dead weight and I want to be alone.”

Your lips seal and you bite the inside of your cheek.

Lo’ak could nearly scream in frustration when he notices the way your shoulders sag and it makes something in his heart cinch.

“Okay,” you agree, nodding quickly. “Be safe and–”

The words die on your tongue when you notice the look of annoyance on Lo’ak’s face.

Lo’ak is in deep shit, you come to find out hours later.

You sit outside of the training circle, knowing that Lo’ak will return down the path after his hunting trip. What you don’t expect, however, is Jake and Neytiri emerging with the entire line of Sully kids and Spider.

Jake grips the back of Lo’ak’s neck tightly as they march past wandering eyes, straight to the family tent. You don’t miss his wounds though, varying in depth, some bleeding, some sore.

You’re hot on their heels, standing right outside of the entrance as Jake tears into the middle Sully.

“Time and time again, I have to get on your ass for doing the complete opposite of what I ask you to do!” Jake’s voice is thunderous inside the tent. “Do you not realize that you not only risked your life but your sisters’ too?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jake continues, obviously pacing from the way his volume fluctuates.

“And what were you thinking bringing Tuk? She’s nine, Lo’ak!” he shouts, the anger and the hurt evident in his tone.

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak mumbles.

“Yeah, I bet you are!” Jake scolds. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is for you stay in line. Just stay out of trouble and work hard on your training. I paired you with ________ and Neteyam in hopes that maybe you’ll tighten up and be more like them, but you’re always disappointing me.”

You frown.

Whatever Lo’ak had done probably didn’t warrant such deep admonishment and something tugs especially hard at your heartstrings knowing that all he wants to do is make his dad proud.

“You’re surrounded by good influences, but you always have to go against the grain, Lo’ak,” Jake says, the edge in his tone softening. “I’m getting tired of the bullshit, son. You need to clean up your act. Hear me?”

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak says quietly, voice almost a whisper behind the hide of the tent.

“Now go get yourself cleaned up,” Jake huffs.

Your spine is straightening when you hear foot steps closing in, holding your breath as the flap to the tent billows open and Lo’ak is emerging.

His eyes flit to yours and his expression sours further.

“Lo’ak,” you murmur, reaching out to him.

He’s shrugging you away, wincing when a wound on his shoulder stretches especially taut.

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly. “I’ll–”

“Leave me alone,” he says, eerily level.

“But you’re–”

“I said leave me alone, ________,” he warns, pushing past you in what should be the pursuit of his grandmother’s quarters.

Instead he’s making a beeline for the jungle.

You’d seen the look in his eye before he stonewalled you, seen the hurt and heaviness that most people didn’t seem to notice because he was always so adventurous and carefree.

You follow after him.

“Lo’ak, you know he’s only worried for you,” you try to reason gently, fingers reaching for his own as you duck under massive leaves and fluttering insects.

He whirls to face you, swatting your hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he bites. “You don’t know anything.”

You swallow, holding your hand to your chest as you watch him lay down every brick to wall himself off.

He hates it. He hates how you look at him, how you seem to pity the life he has to live. It makes him sick, thinking that you two have it the same. He’d rather be hated for being great than hated for being a let down. It’s insulting, how you think you know how it feels.

“Let’s go back. I’ll wrap your wounds and–”

“Of course, clan’s golden girl is gonna patch me up and make it all better, huh?” he seethes facetiously. “Just fuck off!”

You flinch, blinking at the boy you holds so much rage in front of you.

“I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to be mean,” you whisper, taking in a shuddering breath to will yourself not to cry.

“Mean? Mean?” Lo’ak bristles. “I’ve tried telling you to lay off nicely, tried telling you to just leave me alone, but you don’t listen. You just pry and overstep and you make every little thing about you! Oh, it’s so much pressure, villagers our age hate me, of course they would! You already have everything and just have to go rub salt in the wound!”

You shrink, eyes welling as your lip trembles.

“Lo’ak, stop,” you whimper.

“We’re not friends, ________.We never were and we never will because I don’t like you,” he spits. “Now please, for the love of god, will you just leave me alone!”

The forest is silent save for Lo’ak’s ragged breathing, fists clenched as he glares down at you.

“I-” Your breath hitches and you choke out an apology. “I’m sorry.”

Lo’ak’s heart softens a fraction as you take a step back, turning quickly on your heel.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you rasp, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into a run, putting as much space as you can between you and the middle child who stands in the middle of the forest, unable to wrangle every harsh word he’d said to force back down his throat.

You dropped your journal.

Lo’ak is sure you’re looking for it, know that you’ve always got your nose stuck in it. You had dropped it running off and now he has its leather bound in his hands.

It’s been a couple of nights since the faithful evening he’d blown his top and he’d only seen whispers of you. It was so unlike you to disappear, to not be entertaining the masses as they fell to your feet.

He’d cooled off significantly, and when he replayed the conversation in his head, he winced, body folding in on itself as he realizes how harsh he’d been.

“Are you actually thinking thoughts?” Spider claps him on the shoulder, startling him so badly he drops the journal.

It lands spine down, the pages fluttering open.

He chances a peek before Spider is rounding his lithe figure to pick up the notebook. All he makes out is a rough sketch.

“You write?” Spider asks, intrigued.

“No, it’s ________’s,” Lo’ak answers.

“Oh, your little girlfriend’s?”

Lo’ak gives the human a cross look, snatching the book from his grasp as he stands up.

“Trouble in paradise?” Spider pries, scurrying to keep up with Lo’ak’s long strides.

A beat of silence before Lo’ak finally answers.

“Made her cry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

Spider winces behind him.

“You serious?”

Lo’ak sighs.

“Yes, dude, fuck,” he breathes, hand coming to the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me. Dad was ripping me a new one and Neteyam already chewed me out before they got there and she was being annoying, so I just…”

“Bro,” Spider scoffs in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. “You’re a real dickhead sometimes.”

Lo’ak’s eyes wander as he shifts uncomfortably, feeling incredibly small as his friend glares up at him.

“I mean, I told her I wanted to be left alone!” Lo’ak tries to defend weakly. “I- I didn’t mean to.”

“She likes you a lot, dude,” Spider reiterates. “She just wants you to like her back.”

Despite the glaring signs, Lo’ak has trouble believing that your feelings for him far surpass charity work. They couldn’t, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, you’re you and he’s…him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Spider beats him to it.

“Did you at least apologize?”

Lo’ak squirms.

“Dude!”

“Look, I know, I know,” he tries to assuage the situation.

“________ is literally the sweetest girl in the entire clan you just–“

“I get it, bro, I get it!” Lo’ak huffs.

“Get your head out of your ass,” Spider says. “She might not stick around long enough for you to realize.”

“Realize what?” Lo’ak snaps.

“Are you really gonna play stupid right now?”

He blinks at the human.

“You like ________,” Spider says matter-of-factly. “You always have, ever since we were kids.”

“Oh, piss off,” Lo’ak grumbles.

“Dude, you’re literally my best friend, but I sometimes I wanna shove my foot so far up your–”

“I do not like ________,” Lo’ak says sharply.

“Everyone sees it but you, dipshit,” Spider scoffs. “You like her, but you’re scared. She’s perfect and she intimidates you. Think she’s gonna see you for what you really are and turn her back on you like everyone else does when you fuck up, but she’s not like that, Lo’ak. She’s been there whether you like it or not. But she might not always.”

Lo’ak swallows down the knot in his throat, fingers tightening around the notebook.

“Everything clicking?” Spider asks knowingly.

Lo’ak throws him a final narrowed glare before stalking off.

It’s Lo’ak’s birthday and just like every orbit, he spends it alone in the forest.

At first, he’d been burdened with the weight of hurting your feelings, but now his conversation with Spider weighs heavy on him as he climbs dirt walkways and flowered paths.

It doesn’t help that your notebook weighs heavy in his satchel, a silent reminder that he still has a piece of you while you cling to his peace of mind.

I think you’re brave, fearless. They’re the words you uttered to him that fateful night you turned the reality of you two on its axis.

As he splices all the moments you two shared like a reel, he realizes that it’s endless. That you’re always there, you’d always been there, like a layer of impenetrable atmosphere surrounding him.

He really should apologize, he knows this much, but you’ve disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Training sessions have returned to a sibling affair and he’s too prideful to ask about you.

It’s almost eclipse when he begins making his way back for the evening meal, knowing that a scolding will await if he arrives even a minute late.

After what had happened with you, he was lying low, trying to diminish his blip from the radar.

As he closes in on the village’s main circle, he notes that it’s quiet. A little too quiet. It puts him on edge, makes him draw his bow and feel around for an arrow in his quiver.

A few more paces and he’s broken into the clearing, a few stragglers milling about. Another half a dozen steps and it’s like the forest melts into a celebration, whorls of blue pouring into the circle as villagers begin trilling.

Lo’ak is hoisted into the air as the dying fire in the center of the camp begins to slowly roar.

“Happy birthday, baby bro!” Neteyam caws loudly as they begin jostling him into the air, chanting and dancing as the dense crowd of clanspeople celebrate him.

It’s like time slows as he peers from side to side eagerly, seeing the way Spider, Kiri and Tuk dance happily among his people. Jake and Neytiri stand near the fire, smiles wide when they see the look of awe on their middle son’s face.

When he’s finally set on his feet, he wobbles, childlike as he turns, taking in the glowing streamers that crisscross between the tents. Flowers of green and blue thread through the vines, gleaming like lamplight as the forest buzzes around them.

“Wha– What is all this?” Lo’ak croaks in disbelief, eyes flitting wildly as he notices Norm and Max standing next to a table they’d hauled from the pod to the circle, piled high with meats and vegetables wrapped in leaves.

A platter of yovo fruits, his favorite, are at the center, surrounded by a painted sign with his name and the handprints of dozens of villagers on it.

“You survived another orbit!” Neteyam laughs heartily, head-locking the younger boy before roughly digging his knuckles into the top of his head.

A laugh bubbles from Lo’ak’s lips, swatting his brother away as villagers and clan members he’d grown up with approach him one by one to greet him.

As the night progresses, he doesn’t even realize he’s searching until your mother approaches and his spine goes rigid, cheeks warming under her piercing gaze.

“From my ________,” she says, setting a pouch into his palms. “She toiled over these for many eclipses. Please take care.”

Lo’ak’s nod is delayed as his satchel shifts on his shoulders, a dull reminder that your journal still remains with him, begging to be read.

“Where– Where is she?” he asks suddenly, feeling your absence all the more now that your gift sits in the palm of his hand.

“My daughter does not feel well,” your mother says simply. “She wished to be excused from the festivities.”

His chest feels hollow, stomach tight as his cheeks burn. You’d mentioned this to him, all those days ago in the training circle, about wanting to celebrate with him.

His eyes flit to the flowers looped through the vines, the mountain of yovo fruits, the gift in his hands. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Doesn’t want to fuel the tiniest ember of hope in chest, but he can’t help it.

He can’t help but read into it, into the implications of this celebration you’d planned all for him, into every word you uttered to him in the quiet of the forest’s chirping.

It’s all it takes for him to lock himself in his own head. The feast melts into the background, dull, as his eyes cut the crowd for you.

You have to be here, gotta be hanging around the outskirts silently. The idea taunts him, makes his gut twist hard as images of you dancing in the circle, singing to him, celebrating him, loving him—

Lo’ak freezes, blinking incredulously at the thought that’d just crossed his brain. It makes him queasy, makes the regret and the guilt gnaw at every nerve ending as your crying face flashes like an unwanted slideshow in his brain.

It’s all he can think about as the festivities die, as villagers begin turning in the for the night and he helps his family clean up the aftermath of another orbit finally finished.

Spider helps Tuk and Neteyam near the fire, and as Lo’ak moves through the motions like he’s caught in a tide, Kiri watches, knowing all too well what consumes her brother’s mind.

It isn’t until Lo’ak is shrouded by the stillness of the early morning, his family tucked in their tent, bodies and limbs splayed as they sleep together, that he sits in a swinging hammock, your journal and the pouch in his lap.

It feels wrong, the way he thumbs the cover, working up the courage to turn it open. But Ewya, fate, would have never left it in his wake if it wasn’t meant to be read.

As his finger ghosts the etchings of the front cover, worn and loved by you, something tickles his leg as he admires the leather. He blinks in disbelief when he sees a singular woodsprite resting against his thigh.

Before he loses his nerve, he’s opening the pages with bated breath.

Recipes, nature notes, short thoughts fill the sheets and Lo’ak feels like he’s reading into your brain, seeing all the little things no one bothers to know.

he is like the sun,

shines so bright,

but burns the closer you get.

Lo’ak’s pointer finger glosses over the ink, over your curly handwriting.

he is so incredible, but he doesn’t even know it. i want to shout it to every creature in the forest, every tree and every flower. oh, how i wish to be as fearless as him.

His chest heaves as the words blur.

Fearless.

In this moment, he feels everything but. He feels like a coward.

He continues to flip, throat lodged as he sees drawings, both rough sketches and full renderings. He hadn’t even known that you liked to draw, yet here he was, observing his home through your artistic eye.

Flowers, leaves, trees, creatures, insects, fruits mar the stained papers, etched like it’d been caught in real time.

likes green and blue.

likes yovo fruits.

The entry from the day you’d first walked with him through the forest.

When he turns the page, his breath hitches.

In full color, you’d captured his bullseye from your first training session. His back taut from the release, expression shaded stoic. He looked mighty, like the strongest warrior, and it was all through your eyes.

Lo’ak doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the bullseye in the illustration bleeds from a fallen tear. Another one drips from his chin, then another.

The next page is the night you two had poured your hearts out to each other. Again, in full color, he’s watching the stars. You don’t leave out the glow of the freckles that smatter his face and body, don’t miss the smile that plays at his lips as he quietly points out that his dad had come from a star.

He flips again and different iterations and designs for what seems like jewelry litters the pages, shaded with different colors of blue and green, marked with varying notes, x’s marking through ideas you didn’t like.

Lo’ak remembers the pouch, sitting untouched in his lap, and his shaky fingers undo the ties. He shakes the contents on the flat of the notebook and the most intricate beadwork fits into the crease.

His eyes widen as he picks up the necklace in a trembling hand, the eclipsing sun catching the etching in the flat stones.

Four five-fingered hands and four four-fingered ones, each separated by jewels scavenged and cleaned from the bed of the glowing river.

A small scroll flutters from the pouch and Lo’ak chokes back as sob as he unrolls the hide.

Happy Birthday, Lo’ak. I am always grateful to know someone like you. May your next orbit be filled with endless blessings from Ewya and may you see yourself how I see you.

You see him, he realizes. You’re his supporter, a silent force that consumes every insecurity and swallows every doubt. You believe in him more than he believes in himself.

He stands from the hammock and runs.

You’re sitting in the same tree the two of you had rested in the night you’d confided in Lo’ak, watching as the sun eclipses and begins to light up the sparkling forest.

Something rustles and you sit up, hand on the hilt of your dagger as you search the area for movement.

As your eyes lock on the source, you almost wish it had been a beast coming to devour you whole. But as Lo’ak climbs the branches of the tree quickly, you feel the dread begin to solidify in your veins.

You take your satchel, hanging from a nearby branch and sling it over your shoulder, pulling your shawl over your head to prepare for your escape.

“________, wait,” he chokes breathlessly. “Please.”

You feel like crying all over again, feel so unbelievably stupid thinking that Lo’ak would ever see you the way that you see him.

You pause a beat as he settles on the branch across from yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

Something glints in the sun and your eyes widen when you see that Lo’ak has fastened the necklace you made him around his neck, right above the the leather chain that holds his beloved claw charm.

“You’re wearing it,” you whisper, lips twitching into a frown as you try your best to keep your tears at bay.

“I’m sorry, ________,” Lo’ak apologizes hoarsely. “Fuck, you don’t understand how sorry I am.”

The tears well on their own.

We’re not friends. We never were and we never will.

The words haunt you like a broken record and you shake your head, moving from your perch to move down the branches.

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak pleads. “Please don’t go, I–”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you, Lo’ak.”

He freezes, watching as you balance on a branch below.

“I tried so hard to be your friend,” you whimper, angrily wiping away your tears. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and you’re fearless, and you are everything I want to be, but you’re heartless.”

Lo’ak lets out a shuddering breath, a chill running down his spine as you look up at him like he’d smashed every star in the sky.

“I wanted to be with you, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “I hoped that maybe if I stuck it out, you’d see how much I cared, how badly I wanted to be with you, even if it was from a distance.”

“I do, _________, I do!” he argues.

He hadn’t always, but he sees it now. He sees you.

You shake your head again.

“You don’t,” you sigh, voice trembling. “It’s my fault anyways. You were right. You told me to leave you alone and I was being too much.”

“Stop–”

“Let this be the last time,” you assure him. “Let’s just– Let’s pretend we never met.”

“No, _________. Wait!”

You’re climbing down the tree and disappearing into the brush and, like a fleck of ash, you’re disintegrating into nothingness.

Most people think he’s being moody, that he’s just been scolded by his father or older brother, but Neytiri knows better.

She sees the way her son has changed over the course of the past few weeks. She knows there is a great burden that he carries, but much like her beloved and her eldest, he suffers in silence.

“Maitan,” she says quietly, brushing a braid from his face as he folds the leaves around a chunk of steaming meat.

Lo’ak pauses almost imperceptibly, but continues his task.

It isn’t like him to stay home and work with Neytiri. If anything, he’d be the first one out of the tent, Tuk, Spider, and Kiri tailing after him as they galavant through the endless forest.

“Something weighs heavy in your heart,” she tries again, hand coming over his.

Lo’ak stops and leans back, unable to meet his mother’s searching gaze.

“I hurt someone,” he says quietly.

Neytiri stiffens.

“What?”

“I hurt someone I care about,” Lo’ak admits. You’d called him fearless, strong. He needed to live by your word. “I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Oh, Lo’ak,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently.

Her face has softened as she takes in his stony expression.

“My son, some things cannot be fixed,” she says honestly. “But all things require great effort. Sometimes those efforts will fall through, but that is the natural order of life.”

Lo’ak swallows.

“Whoever this special person is, if you have hurt her, she deserves the full effort of your heart, no?”

You do, he knows you do. You deserve every last effort. But a niggling streak of insecurity tells him that you don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve someone who takes your affections for granted. You deserve someone who will love you with every breath, who will love you fearlessly.

“I really messed things up, Mom,” Lo’ak says quietly. “I don’t…”

Neytiri’s hand comes to Lo’ak chest.

“The night I first met your father, Ewya gave me sign,” she says. “He has a pure, strong heart. You do too.”

Lo’ak swallows.

“Be brave, Maitan,” she says. “Sometimes that is enough.”

Lo’ak’s fingers hurt from picking berries.

His cuticles bleed, pricked by the thorns of the fruit’s bush. Kiri hums beside him, weaving a little bag out of ropes of thin vines.

“You’re not gonna help me?” he whines.

“Why should I help you with your mess?”

You look beautiful under the glow of the evening meal’s crackling fire. It’s the first time you’ve emerged since before Lo’ak’s birthday feast and you’re being flocked by elders and villagers, wishing you well and asking about your supposed ailment.

He sits across the fire, fists tight as he searches for a lull in the crowd.

Spider snickers next to him, devouring the contents of his plate like he’s starved, watching Lo’ak’s useless pining like a show.

Be brave.

He’s standing to his feet before he can back out, crossing the circle to approach you. The villagers watch like they know something he doesn’t and the nerves are eating away at him as he steps into your space.

You look up from your conversation with a girl your age, the smile slipping from your lips.

“Can we talk?” Lo’ak asks, eyes wandering to watch the way everyone watches him.

You remain jaded.

“Now’s not a good time,” you say quietly and a few onlookers snicker in the background. “________,” Lo’ak tries again.

You stare up at him, the shadow of the fire dancing over your features as you seemingly look right through him. It’s humiliating, the way you remain seated and watch him fidget, but he figures he deserves the cold shoulder after months, years of casting you to the side.

“Let’s go?” you ask the girl, nodding your head over your shoulder.

The girl chances a glance between you and Lo’ak, noticing the telltale sign of your work etched into the stones of the choker he hadn’t taken off since his birthday.

She gives him a sympathetic smile as she follows after you.

He’s going to have to try a lot harder than he has, he realizes as your birthday looms right around the corner. The next eclipse, in fact.

He’s losing hope, losing courage, but he can’t give up on you two just yet.

He makes sure the berries he picked the days prior are packed tightly in his bag, the lid to the nectar fastened, and his present wrapped nicely.

It’s his last hope, his last shot to make things right.

Spider, Tuk, and Neytiri surround him, Neteyam and Jake off on a hunt.

They’d all been privy to the fact, aiding him in his endeavors as he organized his final grapple with your heart.

“Kiri said she’ll bring her right before eclipse,” Spider says, peeking from the flap of the tent. “That’s in, like, minutes.”

Lo’ak is nervous. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you for good, but he knows he has to give it his best effort. It’s the least you deserve.

Be brave. Sometimes that is enough.

Lo’ak glances at his mom and she gives him a warm smile, ruffling his braids.

“You are the son of Toruk Makto,” she assures him, pinching his cheek. “There is nothing you cannot do.”

The words are carved into his brain as he rushes through the forest, the the stream that the curls and bends through the forest. It glows beautifully at night and that is his final push.

“Wait, give me like three seconds, I left something.” Kiri’s voice is muffled behind the trees.

“Huh?” Lo’ak sees the way your head tilts through an opening in the foliage.

“I’ll only be a second!”

“Wait, Kiri!”

Kiri is running straight for him, comes barreling through the bushes, and continues down the path.

“Good luck, egghead!”

Lo’ak takes in a final breath to quell the tremor in his hands before ducking through the bushes to reveal himself.

You’re sitting on the embankment, on a woven mat that Kiri had laid out for you two, decorative vines edging the seams.

“Oh, you were–”

You peer over your shoulder and your expression falls.

“Lo’ak…”

“Happy birthday, ________,” he breathes.

You don’t look amused, slinging your bag over you shoulder as you rise to your feet.

“Kiri and I are hanging out,” you tell him.

He scratches the back of his head.

“I…I had Kiri bring you here because I knew that you wouldn’t come with me if I asked,” he admits. “And of course, I don’t blame you, but I– I just really need to talk to you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look him in his eyes as he draws nearer.

“Just give me some time, please,” he pleads.

You finally meet his gaze, searching his eyes as he looks down at you earnestly.

You give him the tiniest nod, reluctantly shedding your satchel to reassume your seat on the mat.

The waters rush gently, like a song as Lo’ak lowers himself next to you.

His palms are clammy as he fidgets in his seat, the scent of herbs and flowers wafting from your dewy skin. He can’t bring himself to look at you, afraid that every sentiment he’d crafted in the hours of the night will escape him, so he watches the bubbling of the stream.

“Well?” you whisper, like you don’t want to shatter the fragile sheath of peace that layers you.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I’ve said it already, but I really am, ________.”

“I know,” you murmur and his gaze flits to yours. “Even if you don’t act like it, you have a good heart, Lo’ak. You feel everything, even the things you don’t want to.”

He swallows.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says carefully. “I was mad and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

You sit silently, knees hugged to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knee, watching Lo’ak with seeing eyes. It makes him trip over his words.

“My whole life, I’ve always been compared to Neteyam,” he says. “The entire village would whisper about me and how I was nothing like the mighty warrior.”

When he glances at you, he notices your fingers twitch, like you want to reach out to him.

He squashes his fears and turns to face you, five-fingered hand coming up to thread with your four. You watch the union, uncertainty obvious in the way you tense, but Lo’ak squeezes.

“And then when we started growing up, you were just another person I had to live up to,” Lo’ak whispers. “You’re perfect, ________. You’re kind, and you’re smart, talented. You’re everything I’m not and it made me hate you.”

You shrink, but Lo’ak pulls you towards him, hand coming up to brush your cheek.

“But you’re all of that and more,” he continues, the words gushing like a river. “You’re always there, you support me and you defend me and see things I don’t.”

You become shy under his gaze because for the first time, he’s seeing you. He’s seeing you for every single thing you’ve been to him and it makes your stomach knot.

“I have something to tell you,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Your gaze is soft, palm still in his as he turns and reaches into the bag he discarded next to him. Your eyes widen when he produces your notebook, edges curled the slightest as he hands it to you.

“My journal,” you say, taking it from him quickly. “I’ve been looking for this. Why- Why do you have it?”

He looks guilty, lips rolling as he avoids your gaze.

“Did you…”

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “But there were woodsprites and I knew it was a s–”

“Lo’ak this is private,” you murmur incredulously. “Why would you read this?”

“How long, ________?” he asks quietly, grip on your hand tightening.

“Lo’ak, don’t–”

“How long?” he presses desperately.

Your eyes are watering, like that wicked night all over again and Lo’ak begs Eywa for the final push.

“Since we were ten,” you whisper brokenly. “It was my first performance and it was so stupid, but I was throwing up because I was nervous and you talked me through it.”

Lo’ak is stunned, the memory like the faintest of outlines.

“We didn’t even know each other that well,” you hiccup. “But you patted me on the back and you gave me this–”

You pull your fingers from his grasp and flip the journal to the last page, revealing a hidden pocket. Your nimble fingers pull a tattered string, the remnants of a vine, threaded with wilted flower petals, preserved from being pressed inside your notebook.

“You said that they made you make it during lessons,” you say, breath hitching. “That it’d be my good luck.”

He’d forgotten all about the memory completely, too caught up in driving whatever wedge he could between you two, building up walls to seal you out.

“And you kept it this whole time?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief.

“I’d hold on to anything you give me,” you admit in defeat. “Heartbreak included.”

He lets out a shaky breath.

“________, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hand coming up to your neck. “You have to know that. I’m really fucking stupid, but if you give us a shot, I won’t mess it up.”

Your hand comes up to his wrist, crumpling as you bow your head.

“Don’t do this to me,” you beg, moving to break away from him.

“Please.”

His hold tightens, other hand twining with yours.

“If I…if I give myself to you, I’m giving you everything,” you say hesitantly. “If you break this, you break me. I don’t think I can come back from this.”

Lo’ak presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips as he searches your gaze for any semblance of hope.

“This is me being fearless, ________,” he whispers.

You melt, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He’s frozen for the shortest of moments before relenting, pushing up onto his knees to deepen the kiss.

He’s cradling your face and your hands are wandering and Lo’ak can’t help but think he could get used to loving you.

To being loved by you.

BONUS

“I was gonna give it to you on your birthday,” Lo’ak says sheepishly a few nights later under the stars. “But, you know…”

Your usual place among the branches of the looming trees have a lot of memories both bitter and sweet, but you suppose you could make new ones.

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you say sweetly, tail swishing to wrap around his ankle. “You’re all I need.”

Lo’ak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your saccharine words if the pounding in his chest is anything to go by.

His hands are shaky as he pushes the hide towards you, a bow made of vine tied neatly around the gift.

“Wanted to,” he says simply, moving the hair from you face to see your reaction better. “Open it.”

You’re gentle with the present, like you are with most things, but eager to see what he’d gotten you.

A tiny gasp falls from your lips when you finally see it, wide eyes meeting his as you free the jars of paints he’d mashed up, the brushes he fashioned, and the brand new journal he bound himself.

“Lo’ak, wow…”

“So you can paint me more,” he says, then adds timidly. “Or maybe us. Maybe you could paint us.”

an — holy shit guys, this was such a big project for me because i really wanted to dive into so many different things in this fic. to everyone who was waiting patiently, thank you sososo much. as usual, i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless! although requests are paused for me to catch up, like always, if you wanna chat with me about literally anything, my askbox is open. lots of love hehehe :) xx

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn

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justlillythinking · 1 year

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Charming Killer: 4

┍━━━━━»•» 🌺 «•«━┑

Pairing: Neteyam x reader

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE

Summary: Jake and Norm come across you and Neteyam in a bad position. Neteyam gets in a big fight with his mom and dad.

Warnings: this is terrible but none.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Next bit is gonna be back on track cause this bit is dog-shit and I am sorry in advance I just wanted to get something out and I may have fucked it ah well, cest la vi. IM TAKING A THREE OR FOUR DAY BREAK BTW ALSO IM SORRY THIS SUCKS

┕━»•» 🌺 «•«━━━━━┙

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justlillythinking · 1 year

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folklore masterlist ✩ jake sully

chapters ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

i. this is me trying

ii. peace

iii. epiphany

iiii. hoax

v. invisible string

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justlillythinking · 1 year

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their own little world - neteyam

𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘺𝘢𝘮 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘬𝘢𝘺𝘢!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 : 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥𝘴 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘸𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘦

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 : 2.2𝘬

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 : 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 19, 𝘯𝘶𝘥𝘪𝘵𝘺, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘺𝘢𝘮

keep in mind that english is not my first language :))

Neteyam couldn’t remember a day where she wasn’t in his life. From his young age, to his adulthood, she always held a special place in his heart. Her parents were great warriors, admired by all, including the Olo’eyktan, Jake Sully, his father. Given their closeness, Neytiri asked Mo'at to train the young girl as Tsahik. A mother knows all, Neytiri knew Neteyam and y/n were chosen by the Great Mother, for a greater purpose. It was easy for the Sully to like the girl, she was sweet, gentle and she knew when to be fierce and strong. The perfect balance.

Just like Spider, she spent her childhood with Jake’s kids. Unlike Spider, however, Neytiri appreciated the girl. She was Na’vi, good for her oldest son. She could sometimes see Jake and herself through them, it made her smile.

As the oldest son of the Olo’eyktan, Neteyam suffered the pressure of his position. Always had to be perfect, always had to protect his siblings, always had to put others before himself. Reaching his teenage years was hard on him, he had to let go of all his innocence, of all his childish happiness. The only moments he could be himself were sacred and, sadly, rare moments he spent with y/n. Sometimes, he let himself go with Lo’ak, the instant always cut short by the looming figure of their father. Don’t get him wrong, Neteyam loved his family, he would die for them, but on rare occasions, he would wish he wasn’t the son of Jake Sully, the next Olo’eyktan. He just wanted to be 19 and free. This very thought, was the reason he followed his stupid brother into the battlefield. He wanted to feel free, even if it was just for a few minutes. Watching over Lo’ak was his job, when he got in trouble, Neteyam stated it was his fault. However, on this very day, as he laid on the ground after an explosion, he wanted to be anyone else, very far away from this place.

Back in the camps, and after his father’s scolding, the oldest brother found himself seated before his grandmother, dressing his wounds. His sisters Kiri and Tuk were also here, one helping Mo’at, the other making sure her brother was okay. He longed for y/n to be the one tending to his bruises, but he heard she was occupied with the other lightly wounded. He would have given anything to feel her gentle hands on his back, her sweet words in his ears. Y/N heard about Neteyam’s injuries, it worried her, but Lo’ak came by, telling her he was okay. She wished time would go by faster, to be relieved of her functions to sneak out to the cave Neteyam and her would go to be away from the world, just for a few hours. She feared he was in too much pain to make the journey, but she also feared he’d be sad not to see her. Now in the cave, surrounded by fluorescent lights and the eclipse shining through the hole on the top of the cave, y/n found herself silly, thinking she didn’t want to come tonight. The scenery was breathtaking. The cave was filled with small lives, all shining in the dark, giving it a very intimate feeling. The hot spring gave the place a sweet heat, relaxing her tired muscles.

After the long day she had, the young girl dreamt of nothing more than to relax in the waters. After waiting for almost 2 hours, y/n was convinced Neteyam would not show up tonight. Removing her clothes, she entered the lake, sighing at the feeling of the knots in her back disappearing. Swimming for a bit, she ended up sitting next to the shore, her body completely submerged. Looking up, the girl watched the stars, imagining Neteyam by her side, telling her Jake’s stories about Earth, about his time before his kids. She heard those stories many times, Jake’s children were really proud of their father. Neteyam told her about his mother as well, how she almost killed Jake the first time she saw him. If it wasn’t for Eywa’s seed, none of the children would be here today. Every time y/n was told that particular story, she thanked the Great Mother for her signs. Thinking about the Great Mother, she prayed that, when the day comes, Neteyam will choose her as his mate. He is the next Olo’eyktan, he needed a Tsahik. When Mo’at offered to start training her, she was exited, hoping the young boy would ask her to be his future Tsahik. That was 4 years ago, he had yet to ask. Over the years, she lost hope he ever would. Sometimes, she would see his eyes wandering over other young girls, all prettier than her. They could dance, and sing, whereas she was good at healing. She could hunt, of course, however, when the humans came back, she was assigned as a healer. She was disappointed at first, then understood it was an important role, just like a soldier. Little did she know, it was Neteyam's begging that convinced Jake not to assign her as a spotter, like his sons.

Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching. Neteyam knew she would often get lost in her own little world, so he made sure to be as loud as possible, not wanting to startle her. For the last hours, he was trapped in his home, his mother refusing to let him leave her sight. He understood she was been scared of losing him, but he needed his freedom. Just for a few hours of normality, of tranquillity in their little cave. Neteyam was sure that the young girl would already be there, what he wasn’t expected was to fall on her naked in the hot spring. Of course, it was normal for them to go in the water, the heat of it helping them relax, getting them into a sleepy haze. However, they were always dressed, she must have thought he wouldn’t come tonight. How could she think that ? Neteyam was a boy of habits, of course, he was meeting her tonight.

It was a beautiful night, moons shining more than usual and the stars, Great Mother, the stars were a sight to see. The young boy found himself thinking it was a sign of Eywa for him to finally express his feeling. Everything was perfect, and he almost died today. That put things in perspective, he wouldn’t leave this world without her knowing how much she meant to him.

‘’Hi.’’ Was all Neteyam said. Feeling embarrassed for the lake of words, he continued. ‘’It’s a really beautiful night, I can see you are enjoying it.’’ Of course, ever the gentleman, Neteyam turned his back to her, in case he scared her enough for her to turn around.

In deed, hearing his voice, y/n jumped from fright, turning around quickly. Remembering she was naked, she stepped back until she was standing, water up to her chin.

‘’Neteyam ! I thought you were not coming tonight. How are you ? How are your wounds ? Are you not tired ? ‘’ she asked, in a hurry to have her answers. Neteyam laughed gently, naturally, his sweet girl would be worried about him, it made his heart accelerate.

‘’I am fine, don’t worry. Of course I was coming tonight, I missed you. I would have come sooner but, my mother was worried, so she didn’t let me leave. Had to wait until she fell asleep.’’ Thinking about his plan, Neteyam knew Tuk would get up in the night to go to Neytiri and Jake and his parents would definitely see he was not in his bed. He was in trouble, but it was worth it. ‘’Is the water warm ? I would kill for a bath.’’

He couldn’t possibly be thinking of joining her ? She was naked in the water, surely he had seen that. They were close, but not that close, although she wished they were. Before she could answer, she heard clothes hitting the floor. Too scared to look up, she turned around, swimming deeper in the water.

‘’Neteyam ! What are you doing ?’’ The poor girl was shocked, he never acted so boldly, always shying away when she, lamentably, tried to flirt a little.

‘’I’m just trying to relax in these nice and warm waters, just like you are. What is so wrong with that ?’’ Y/N could hear the smirk on his face. Approaching the young girl, Neteyam splashed her with water, to make her look at him. Knowing her like the back of his end, his little plan worked. Finally seeing her tonight, he gave her a genuine smile, which she returned of course. He wanted to hug her, but he wouldn’t test his luck. He could clearly see the girl was a bit uncomfortable, and if he was being honest, he was a bit too. He was never that bold, but tonight felt like the perfect time to be. So he continued.

‘’You know, I have been thinking about my coming ceremony, you know, when I’ll become Olo’eyktan. My mother had been going on about how I shall choose a mate, to be my Tsahik. She told me it was important I have a deep connection with this person, a strong Olo’eyktan and Tsahik mean a strong clan.’’ Y/N didn’t like the direction this conversation was taking, it felt like her heart was breaking, slowly, with each word leaving his mouth. He was going to tell her they couldn’t be seen together, that they couldn’t be friends any more. Her heart started accelerating, the panic she felt was giving her a hard time breathing. ‘’ The events of today made me realize that anything can happen at anytime, so I better make this decision quickly. I don’t want to die without a mate.’’

Before he could continue, y/n turned around, she didn’t want him to see the tears gathering in her eyes. He didn’t want the girl of the clan imagining she was anything else than a friend, they had to take distances for him to mate with another. After focusing enough to form thoughts, the young girl starting talking.

‘’I get it, Neteyam. You must do what is best for the people. I heard that Tsu’la was the best dancer, and Noulat is the best hunter. They would make strong mates.’’ At those words, Neteyam became strongly confused. What was she on about? She couldn’t be thinking he would want another than her right ? After all those years together, all those moments he spent vulnerable, taking about his doubts and fears. Oh, Great Mother, she might have been the most intelligent girl he knew, but she was really dense at this very moment.

‘’Dear Eywa, why must you be so blind ?’’ Neteyam asked, although he was amused at her clear sign of spite and jealousy when she said the other girls’ name. ‘’I don’t care about Tsu’la or Noulat, the girl I care about is the best healer I know. She is the most beautiful and the most intelligent girl of the clan. She can talk for hours about the plants and creatures of the forest. Not only that, but she is never bored with me when I tell her the same stories over and over again. Most importantly, she allows me to be myself, to be vulnerable and free when I’m with her. She has never seen me as anything else than Neteyam, not Jake Sully’s son, not the next Olo’eyktan, not the perfect oldest brother, just plain boring Neteyam.’’

The moment she understood he was describing her, she turned around, tears still in her eyes, but for a totally different reason. All this time, he felt the same thing ? Both felt stupid for not realizing that they could have been together a long time ago. When he was finished, y/n jumped to hug him, not caring that they were naked any more. She wanted to feel him, to feel his arms surrounding her. He felt like home.

‘’You are not plain nor are you boring Neteyam.’’ It was all she could whisper in his ear, still coming to terms with the fact that he had finally said something. He wanted her, not anyone else, her. Neteyam laughed quietly at her words, hugging her close to his body. Moving her head from his shoulder to press her forehead against his, the look in their eyes was full of vulnerability, respect and love. The outside world didn’t exist right now, it was just Neteyam and y/n, like it has always been.

‘’I see you’’ was heard in the cave. And here, on this beautiful night, two souls became one. In their own little world, nothing could have torn them apart.

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justlillythinking · 1 year

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sub!lo'ak begging to come after you've edged him for hours on end and when you do let him come, you overstimulate him..🤭

im likin the way youre thinkin anon

lo'ak x fem!na'vi!reader (aged up)

-----

"please y/n please just-"

"shh baby," you brought a finger up to his lips, reveling in the desperation plain on his face.

you were sat on his lap, straddling him, as you slowly stroked his now leaking dick. you've been at this for hours. getting him so so so close to cumming before letting go of him. you enjoyed seeing his hips buck up at the sudden loss of contact.

"please just let me cum," it came out as a whisper but you didn't miss the pure torment in his voice. if you edged him once more you were sure he'd start crying. so you decided to give him what he wanted.

"let me take care of you, okay?" he nodded his head frantically, letting shaky breaths out as he watched you lift your hips finally sinking down on him.

he groaned, throwing his head back as he squeezed your hips.

"fuck baby s'tight- " his voice came out strained as you sank down on him. both of you groaned when you bottomed out. he was filling you in all the right places and you mentally applauded yourself from holding back for so long.

"yeah? feels good?" you already knew the answer just by looking at him. but you enjoyed hearing it from his whiny voice.

"yes- fuck yes so good," he was panting as he began to ride him, watching his dick disappear inside you over and over again.

you started off slow, rolling your hips experimentally each time you bottomed out. he was a whimpering mess mere minutes being inside of you. bringing your fingers to your clit, he groaned as he felt you clench around him.

"so big lo'ak, makin' me feel so good such a good boy," he moaned at your praise. you brought your hands up from his chest to cup his face, bringing him in for a messy kiss as he moaned into your mouth.

you continued to ride him as you kissed, your hands now tangled in his hair while he held your waist with a vice grip. breaking the kiss, you moved to his neck, leaving wet kisses along it, pressing your hands on his chest once again.

you could feel how fast his heart was beating and smiled into his neck.

"y/n im close- please let me cum- please," you loved the way he begged you. loved how his cocky personality was gone. stripped away to nothing but a whimpering mess. you lifted your hips, taking him out of you. lo'ak's groan in annoyance turned into a rather loud moan when you began jacking him off. "fuck baby fuck," he let out a guttural moan as he came on your hand and chest. he was panting, trying to come down from his high.

but you didn't stop.

you kept stroking his dick, rearranging yourself between his legs so you could bring his tip into your mouth.

"shit y/n wait-" his legs were trembling as you continued to touch him. his hand now laced in your hair while his other was gripping the ground next to him. "fuck s'too much y/n please-" you ignored him, bobbing your head on his tip, sucking him dry.

he was letting out a continuous stream of whines now, completely over stimulated. but he couldn't bring himself to tell you to stop.

when you thought he finally had enough, he was an absolute wreck. sweat making strands of braids stick to his forehead as he panted heavily.

"how do you feel baby," you asked in a hushed tone, sitting yourself back on his lap, careful to not touch his now half-hard dick.

"good," he breathed out, "really good."

----

IM SORRY IK I SAID I WAS GOING ON A HIATUS BUT I SAW THIS AND MY BRAIN TOLD ME TO WRITE IT

anywho i hope you like it

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justlillythinking · 1 year

Text

Kill me.

pairing: Neteyam Sully X f!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, All characters are aged 19+, Swearing, Smut.

Description: You are a threat to Neteyam’s pride and one day he decides to threaten you.

neteyam brainrot brrrr

Neteyam is an incredible hunter. The best amongst his people. No one could surpass him and soon enough he would live to surpass his father.

it was written in stone for him 19 years ago.

When you showed up and caught up to Neteyam as a hunter, you took everyone by surprise. He thought of you as a threat to his title, one of the first people in the clan to reach his standard.

What really got him aggravated was the fact that he found this attractive, but only when you do it - in fact it made his blood boil.

He wasn’t used to feeling this worked up over someone. To look at them and feel drawn towards them. To be lustful towards them. To think about them constantly.

you thought the same of him.

Keep reading

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justlillythinking · 1 year

Text

straying from avatar bc of these men

thinkin' about the original White Boys™ of the 2010s dystopian era. just know that you are loved and missed 💔

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justlillythinking · 1 year

Text

~ AO'NUNG X FEM! SULLY! READER ~

Breathing lessons

summary: Ao'nung is fed up with you not being able to control your breath, so he teaches you himself.

includes: spicy content, choking, breath play, praise, oral, aged up to 18 for legal reasons

NSFW! MINORS DNI, 18+

2.3k words

------------------

You cursed yourself for failing again.

It's been a long time since you came to Awa'atlu and yet you still struggled holding your breath. It had gotten better, but by far not as good as expected.

You came up to the water surface to get some air and your friends and siblings followed soon after. So did Ao'nung. He looked almost annoyed about your lack of breathing skills.

The guilt you felt was visible on your face.

"Guys, I'm sorry-"

"Don't worry, you'll get there." Tsireya reassured you with a sweet smile.

Yet, Ao'nung had enough of it.

"You've been trying to teach me for so long... I feel like a failure..."

"Crying won't get you anywhere", the chief's son growled and made his way back to the docks, "Looks like you need some more precise training."

Your eyes followed him get back to the docks. He turned his head, wondering why you weren't following.

"Come. I'll teach you." He gestured you to follow him with him hand and so you did. Something about his undertone sent a shiver down your spine and still, you did as he told you.

Tsireya looked over to your siblings, all of them followed you with their eyes until you disappeared in his marui.

You gave him a sweet smile as he held the curtains up for you to get in, but that smile quickly faded as he knotted them to stay closed.

His face still hadn't changed for the better, that annoyed, unamused expression still lingered on his visage.

As he turned back to you, his eyes darted at you in a way that made you gulp.

"I'm sorry, Ao'nung, I'm really tryi-"

"I don't wanna hear it."

Again you swallowed heavily.

"Sit down."

"What are you-"

"I said sit down."

His voice was deadly, his words rumbled through your entire body.

Hesitantly following his orders, your eyes avoided his ones, even as he came dangerously close to you while you knelt on the floor.

"Look at me."

One of his hands held your jaw up so you had no other choice but to do as he said. Your eyes traveled up to meet his. They seemed darker than usual, his ears flattened at the sides of his head.

The look he gave you made you somewhat uncomfortable.

"You're going to listen to me now, am I clear?"

With a certain suspicion you eyed him carefully before agreeing with a slight nod.

Parting your lips, you wanted to speak up, but his grasp around your jaw tightened before you could get one word out.

"Silence. You'll need your breath."

The corners of his lips twitched at his words. There was a sudden spark in his eyes that made you feel tiny, even weak. At the same time, the look on his face sparked something inside of you as well.

Ao'nungs hand let go of your jaw for a while. As you lowered your head, you blink shyly at the sight of being on eye level with his crotch. How could you not notice the bulge that stretched the fabric of his loincloth? Guessed by the size of it, he must've been rock hard already.

Within a second he removed the fabric, watching your stunned face closely as his half hard member sprung free. There was no way, you thought, staring at his already huge cock.

"Don't make me repeat myself when I give you orders."

You look up to him through your lashes nodding, he immediately fell in love with the look on your face.

With one hand he stroked himself a fee times, the other one got a good tight hold of your hair, causing you to flinch.

His hand worked up and down his wide shaft as he brought your head closer. The tip of his cock pressed against your cheek playfully, leaving a sticky trail of precum on your skin which connected the two of you.

He watched you closely, observing every rise and fall of your chest as well.

You lick your lips at the sight of his heavy cock while his hands still worked around the base of it, until he tipped the head against your parted lips.

"Look at me. I want your eyes up here", he rested his cock against your lips, pointed up to his face, then to his lower belly just above his crotch. "And your nose right here."

He watched your eyes widen, your cheeks flushed at his gesture.

"Ao'nung, there is no way I can take it all-"

His thumb slipped into your mouth and hooked around your lower teeth at an instant, forcing your mouth open before he plunged his enormous cock in.

The amusement in his face disappeared for a split second.

"I don't want to hear a word. You learned our sign language, so use it if you need to. Don't waste your breath."

You felt his finger slip out of your mouth, he smeared it off on your cheek. The corners of your mouth felt as if they were about to rip. He had given you the chance to take a deep breath before, but you had missed it.

Ao'nung groaned as he buried himself deep inside your mouth. The heat around him made him want to fuck you loose until you saw stars, but he too had to control himself.

For now at least.

You pressed your tongue against his length, obediently looking up to meet his half lidded eyes.

His hips slowly drew away from your face only to bring himself in fully the next second. Your lungs burned due to the lack of air and he noticed.

"3 deep breaths" he growled, tilted your head back and pulled out painfully slowly.

The first breath you took in was rather sharp and uncontrolled, which immediately got punished by a tighter grip of your hair.

You thought of the breathing lessons you had so far and remembered the steps, inhaling deeply through your runny nose and exhaling through your smeared lips.

"Good girl, yeah just like that."

While still looking up to him, you repeated the steps slowly. He allowed one more inhale before you opened your mouth only for him to fill it out completely.

Your own hips bucked as he pulled out halfway and brought his cock all the way down your pretty mouth again.

Both his hands rested on your head, one pulling your hair, the other one putting pressure on the back of it.

"Is that the deepest you can go?" His voice sent vibrations through your entire body.

A weak nod gave the answer. An answer he was not satisfied with.

"Then let me help you."

With great force, his hands urged you closer as his hips thrusted forward, his swollen balls pressed against your jaw.

Your nose pressed against his skin, blocking your air ways completely. Ao'nung hummed as he buried his cock inside of you, shoving it down your throat as far as he could.

He did not move but only kept your head as close to his crotch as possible. His ears twitched as he caught you whimpering for air. You gagged, desperately signalling him to let you breathe, but he did not.

His cock pulsated at the pleasant warmth of your throat.

After a while, your lungs burned again. Tears streamed down your face as you tried to get off him.

"Almost done, just a little bit longer. 5.... 4...."

Your head began to spin and your vision seemed to fade.

"3..." His hands pushed you down harder since you tried to withdraw.

You subconsciously slapped his thigh just as he counted to two.

"... What was what?"

No. No no no. He wasn't seriously gonna punish you for that, was he?

You only shivered under his forceful grip, as he restarted the countdown.

More tears rolled down your face as it already turned purple from the lack of air.

As he finally lets you go, you inhale sharply a few times, already heavily exhausted.

"Can't... anymore..." was all he heard in between your breaths.

"You will have to."

Just after a few breaths he re-engaged again, fucking your throat numb. One of his hands pinched your nostrils together while he rocked in an out of your mouth in a faster pace. Your could feel your saliva drooling uncontrollably.

Sloppy sounds filled the air all around, yet you were ordered to stay silent. He pinched your nostrils harder as a muffled moan sent vibrations through him.

Again you felt your lungs burn.

"Keep looking at me."

Only keeping your eyes open in general was a challenge already, nonetheless you followed his order as good as possible.

His gaze pierced right through your eyes as you looked up to him. Somehow, keeping eye contact with him made it easier to hold your breath for so long and yet you felt your head getting all dizzy.

You weren't sure if your mind was playing tricks on you or if his cock actually grew even larger inside of you, you couldn't tell.

Oh how much you desired to moan his name, to feel him not only filling up your mouth, but everything you had to offer to him. Your body was shaking like crazy as he pushed you down his cock so far that your face once more met his stomach.

Ao'nungs head rolled back in pleasure, his eyes fell shut for a moment while his hands sank into your hair, gripping so tight that you thought he'd rip your scalp off any moment soon.

"Take it all in, be a good girl." he almost whispered, taking a deep breath himself.

Once he pulled out slowly, you tried to take some more controlled breaths.

It didn't go unnoticed by him that you worked on your breathing. A proud grin spread across his face as he tilted your head back to take a look at the mess he had created out of you.

One of his hands traced across your wet cheeks, aching jaw and swollen lips. If he wouldn't be holding you by your hair, you would have collapsed onto the ground.

"Once more."

"Please... ngh... no more..."

"More?" He flashed a teasing grin.

"Can't... " you whispered with a shaky voice, but he huffed.

"Hmm, One more time won't hurt."

You mewled in pain as he forced your jaw open with a harsh grip, making you lose your mind as he started pounding into your mouth over and over.

"You should be more thankful I take my time to teach you properly."

You knew exactly what he wanted to hear as he pulled out so far only his tip layed on your tongue anymore.

"Thank you..." you breathed out, trying your best to keep your eyes from rolling back and falling shut.

"Pretty half-hearted, wasn't it?" He teased, pulling his cock out only to smear the tip around your lips once.

You licked your lips after a weak sigh left your mouth.

"Thank you Ao'nung... thank you... for teaching me..."

"Good girl, now open your mouth for me again."

You hesitantly followed his orders, unsure if your body could even take it.

Ao'nung gripped around your neck with both hands, pressing down hard between your collarbones, blocking your windpipe. As much as it did hurt it also felt incredibly good as he fucked your loose mouth until he hit your throat again.

It felt like an eternity passed. Your head was still spinning and it only got worse, yet you tried everything you could to keep your eyes up at him.

By now, he too made the slightest sounds frequently, he took deeper breaths through his lips while watching his swollen cock being devoured by you.

Your vision darkened, you were slowly about to lose consciousness, at least he made you feel that way. Only his voice kept your mind from drifting away.

"You'll finish this like a good girl, do you understand? One spilled drop and I might break your jaw."

As an answer you only managed to hum in exhaustion.

Ao'nungs picked up the pace one more time, panting.

His grip tightened as you could feel how he rocked into your mouth forcefully a last time, spilling his seed down your sore throat. He rode out his orgasm while biting down on his lip, his head fell back in pleasure.

You could only whimper as he came inside of your filthy mouth before he finally let to. After swallowing quickly you fell forward against his crotch. As soon as he came down from his high, he supported your weight and held you in place almost carefully compared to earlier.

He gave you a moment to come down before you cleaned him off with your sore tongue, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand afterwards.

~~~~~~

Merely a week later you had joined your siblings, Tsireya and her brother for a swim again. It didn't go unnoticed that your breathing had improved rapidly, which Tsireya decided to call out cheerfully.

"It's impressive how easily you managed to control your breath! I don't know how my brother did that, but you surely learned fast!"

Ao'nung didn't say a word but only gave a cheeky grin that made you more than uncomfortable, at least around your siblings.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying to wave it off with a smile.

Kiri stared at you deadpan. As soon as you noticed, you just looked away, avoiding her gaze. Ao'nung and Tsireya had to leave as their father called for them. Ao'nung gave you one last glance before doing so, and Lo'ak just now understood why Kiri stared.

Your sister didn't seem mad at you, just very disappointed. "Please tell me this is not what I think it is..."

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