Nintendhoeuser

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪ mike absolutely loves it when you ride him, the way your breasts are perfectly in view makes him feel all dizzy and needy for you

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪ dryhumping the morning after you slept over

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪ mike loves eating your pussy after arguments, he wants to “make it up to you” :(

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪ he almost creams his pants whenever you use him for your own pleasure

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪ when its late and youre both too tired to actually fuck

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪ he cant help but fuck into you harder whenever you tell him how good hes making you feel in that shy, meek voice

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪ hes always wanting to please you because he receives the same amount of pleasure that you do from it

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪ he just loves your breasts so much, he’ll suck on them wherever and whenever

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪ when youre too tired to have sex but hes sooo pent up, he’ll beg to fuck your thighs

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪ he gets so painfully hard just from you two kissing

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪ jerking him off after a longgg campaign

⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪ soft, sleepy sex before you two head to bed

Taglist:

💜Bo Sinclair

You just finished doing the dishes, when you heard a knock at the door. Unsure it was one of the boys, you scooted from your comfy couch spot and opened the door.

To your surprise, it was not one of the boys—and much to the unexpected visitor's surprise, someone opened the damned door.

“Please, you have to help me.” The man begged in front of you, big sloppy tears pouring from his eyes.

You paused and looked at the male in front of you before raising a brow. You knew what was up, but you never had to deal with the victims before, especially now that you’re over a month pregnant—Bo really doesn’t want you talking or handling them.

“They’re going to get me,” He choke and sobbed, “I need your help.”

Unsure of what to do, you stood there for a few seconds longer, thinking of what the safest option was, but also one that wouldn’t put the boys in danger.

Over the surprise visitor's shoulder, you could see Bo approaching, and he was just a few buildings away—while staring at Bo, and trying to decide your option, the visitor turned around to catch what you were looking at and met Bo’s now rage-filled demeanor.

Quickly, he shoved you to the floor, hopping over you; only stepping on your arm. The minute Bo reached you, he gently helped you up and cupped your cheek. He then pressed a small kiss to your nose and asked you to go to your guy’s shared bedroom.

You could hear each sloshing stabbing sound and the man’s blood-curdling screams almost all night before Bo accompanied you in bed.

🩷Vincent Sinclair

You happily made your way towards the Wax Museum, a plate of food in your hand for your beloved since you know Vincent most likely hasn’t eaten yet.

Once you got to the entrance of the museum, much to your startle, the door was already open. And to make matters worse, you hear two voices giggling.

You stood still beside the entrance, your free hand holding where your womb is, pausing to think of your best option for safety for you and the growing baby. Vincent must've known of their presence, so it's only a matter of time now. Once their whispering died down, you snuck inside the building, peeking around each corner and listening to make sure nobody could see or hear you. You turned a corner too quick in your need to get to Vincent, that you bumped your hip on a nearby table, almost causing you to drop your plate. "Shit," You silently muttered, panicking slightly from your slight bump. "What was that?" A man asked just faint enough for you to hear, causing your panic to rise more. "Maybe it's the dog from earlier?" A woman responded questioningly. As if on cue, Vincent sneaks around the corner and places a comforting hand on your shoulder, while also signaling you to shush before pointing in the direction of where the intruders. He quickly puts his hand over his mask's mouth, then presses it softly to where your baby bump's growing like a little kiss. And from there, he went to take care of the two.

💜Lester Sinclair

You were riding in the truck with Lester, as he went to run errands when a stranger waved you guys down alongside the road.

“Hey! Hi—sorry to bother you guys,” The stranger stumbled nervously, “Something happened and we really need to get to our friends, would one of us be able to catch a ride to the nearest town?”

You and Lester exchanged unsure glances, but Lester agreed nonetheless. You scooted to the middle seat closer Lester, giving him one last worried glance before patting the seat for the stranger.

The three of you rode in an uncomfortable silence, occasionally making some small talk about the small town of Ambrose, and how the two of you like it.

“Ain’t too bad,” Lester spoke up, “Pretty quiet. Everyone minds their own business for the most part.”

The strangers phone started to ring, and they quickly apologized and answered, stiffening in statue after what seemed 10 seconds. They nervously side eyed Lester and you a few times, while giving verbal acknowledgments over the phone.

“Excuse me—can you stop the car?” They asked, feigning a polite exterior, their jaw quivering and the right hand upon the door handle shook nervously.

“Mhm,” Lester slowed to a stop, but before the old beat up truck could even get to a halt, the stranger opened the door, and grabbed you, pulling the both of you out of the car, leaving only Lester in the drivers seat.

“Stay back, freak! Or—or else!” The stranger shoved you to the ground, then pointing a finger to Lester, to prove a point to him that they’re not above violence.

You tried to crawl away, but the stranger had other plans.

“Get back here, bitch,” The strangers focus was too engrossed into you, they didn’t notice Lester hop out of the truck, “I heard what you did to my friends!”

The stranger went to reach for you, but was stopped by Lester pulling them back and punching perpetrator in the throat.

“Hell is wrong with you hitting a pregnant person,” Lester’s punches did not ease up until the strangers face looked like a bloody pulp.

Once he finished, he walked over to where you stood yourself up, and pulled you in for a hug, and pressed a kiss to your forehead and knelt down to press a kiss to your tummy.

“Y’okay, sugar?” He grasped your hand, and walked you to the truck and helped you sit down comfortably.

🩷Thomas Hewitt

You and Luda sat in the kitchen knitting things for the baby that’s on the way.

“Y/N, would you be a dear and check on the pie?” Luda politely inquired.

“Of course!” You opened the oven to check, but the pie wasn’t fully done, so you reset the timer for about 5 minutes.

You took your seat back, and continued knitting your baby blanket. Luda stood up, and started cleaning the counters and washing the dishes used to make the cherry pie.

Faint scrambling and screaming could be heard coming from the basement, but you just turned on the small radio and continuing knitting zigzags into the blankets design.

Until someone managed to scramble their way to the first floor, scrambling through the living room, and then the kitchen.

“You two! Hey! You have to help me!” The man pleaded, “He’s trying to kill me down there!”

The man pointed down in the basement, and Luda looked at him unimpressed. She was sneaking her way to find something to hit the person with without being detected, but the man grabbed onto your hand and tried pulling you with him.

“Please! You have to listen to me; he’s going to kill me—then he’s going to kill you too!” He sobbed, ripping you from your chair at the small table.

“I—” You didn’t get a chance to respond or call for help before the man pulled you outside and down the wooden steps.

“Tommy!” You hear Luda Mae call out, “They’re trying to take Y/N!”

About two minutes later, Thomas ran through the door, his chainsaw rumbling with a seething rage. Within a minute, your captor was mowed down by Thomas, who then dropped the (now off) chainsaw, and spun you in the air with his embrace, pressing his forehead to yours.

That night, Thomas made you a warm bath and you enjoyed a cool cup of sweet tea while you got to munch on the pie you and Luda made from earlier.

💜Brahms Heelshire

It was a cool Sunday afternoon, and you were waiting for Malcolm to bring groceries to the house for you and Brahms—who was hiding upstairs, waiting for your okay to come out.

You sat in the living room, sipping on your favorite hot beverage while rereading a book you started, but haven’t finished.

Faint knocking could be heard from the front door, so you placed your book and drink down, and peeled through the door.

Malcom finally arrived; which means Brahms can come out soon!

“Afternoon, Malcolm!” You gave a small smile with your greeting, which dropped when you saw the man who delivers Brahms and your groceries arrived empty handed.

“Malcolm wh—” You were cut off by his quick ramblings.

“Y/N, you have to get out of here,” He quickly blurted out, “Brahms is alive; he-he’s been living in the walls!”

Mentally, you rolled your eyes. You knew this, obviously—he is your partner after all.

“What do you mean?” You faked concern, even though you had a feeling you knew how this would end.

The grocery boy would enter, prohibited to leave; his fate sealed past the front door.

“Brahms—I SAW him, Y/N.” He huffed, pacing in a nervous circle.

“I think you’re just seeing things, Malcolm. I live here, don’t you think I’d know if he’s here? Wouldn’t I have seen or heard him?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow, trying your best to gaslight him into leaving you and Brahms alone.

He grasped your hand, “If you refuse to believe it, I have no choice. We’re getting out of here and somewhere safe.”

Little did he know, Brahms was watching the whole interaction. And boy is he pissed.

He snuck out through one of the walls, and approached Malcolm from behind.

“Y/N,” He whined, walking towards where Malcom had a grip on your wrist, “Don’t go.”

“Get him Brahms!” You cried, ripping your arm away from Malcolm and backing away.

Brahms quickly gripped Malcolm’s neck, squeezing so hard his poor face turned a blueish purple from the lack of oxygen due to Brahms’ rage.

As soon as Malcom’s body felt limp, Brahms ran towards your slightly nervous form, nuzzling his masked face into your neck, whimpering softly while rubbing your belly.

🩷Poly! Ghostface

You laid sprawled out upon the bed that the three of you shared, watching nostalgic horror movies. Your phone wasn’t too far from your reach due to the boys needing a ride later.

As if on cue, said device started ringing with Stu’s ringtone.

“Hey, babe!” You perked up, “You need me to come scoop you guys up?”

“Mhm-ow!” The sound of slapping could be heard on your end, and Stu groaned over the phone.

“Hi cutie,” Billy snatched the phone from Stu, “Seems nobody’s here. Can you come get us now?”

“Absolutely!” You beamed before hanging up, running to your car, and starting it.

Once you got to the location they sent you, you pulled into the driveway, turned your lights off, and parked the car.

With few lights lit in the house, you could only make out one figure running around in the dark rather than two. Nonetheless, you brushed it off due to how dim the house was, and you turned your music back up, rubbing your hand over the slight bump.

The figure snuck out of the house, and knocked on the window of the car.

“Are you their ride, bitch?” She sneered, “I overheard those fuck-faces on the phone talking about a ride.”

You tried to lock the doors, which you left unlocked for the boys, but the assailant was faster to open the door. She tried to rip you out of the car as you covered yourself up for defense, both not realizing the seatbelt was on.

“Billy!” You screamed out, “Stu, help please!”

The stranger retracted their fist to hit you, but was pulled back by Billy’s grip, before he plunged a knife into her. She glared at you as she tried to hit Stu who blocked her path, gladly taking a turn stabbing her in the ribs.

For the start of the new semester, your best friend had made you promise you would accompany her to a party hosted by some of her friends. It was totally outside your comfort zone, but Tsireya didn’t care. She backhandedly complimented you on being too good of a student, and in retaliation you said you actually had to work for your degree because your dad wasn’t a leading professor. 

Tsireya was studying marine biology, and you knew deep down she was a hard worker. She also had a heart of gold that made it virtually impossible for anyone to stay mad at her for long, so when she hid your laptop and refused to give it back until she saw you drunk, you relented. 

“Just don’t talk to Lo’ak.” Tsireya warned on a Friday night. 

She was behind you with a curling iron as the two of you sat on your knees in front of a full length mirror that had lost its stand. 

“Why? ‘Cause you still like him?” You giggled. 

Four months ago, it became a well known fact around the school that the two biggest party people had become a thing. It lasted exactly eight weeks and two days before you found Tsireya yelling into her phone and boldly blocking Lo’ak’s contact. 

She was seen with his tongue down her throat a week after that. 

“No, silly.” Tsireya laughed with you, and squeezed your arm affectionately. “Because he’s disgusting. And if you let him get his hands on you… It’ll be a wreck.” 

Her words had the opposite effect on you. You hadn’t told her that it had been a while since you had gotten laid, though you assumed she could probably guess it. You could barely remember what it was like to be dopey and intoxicated and not giving two shits about the next morning. You had tried it twice in your freshman year and then decided it wasn’t for you. Still, you refused to give Tsireya the glory of knowing it hadn’t truly taken much convincing to get you out of your shared apartment for this one night.

As Tsireya curled your hair, you began to wonder what it would be like to have the attention of someone of Lo’ak’s reputation. He was wild and had a knack for finding, or creating, a thrill in just about anything. He was the type of boy any decent father would keep away from his kids. 

He was the type of boy you wanted to see tonight. 

“There. Like it?” Tsireya disrupted your daydreaming and held a mirror behind your freshly done hair. 

“Perfect. Thank you, Reya.” You touched the ends of your hair, still warm from the curler.

“I’m going to finish getting ready.” She ran her fingers through your curls and applied some oil to keep it fresh. “We’ll leave in twenty, okay?” 

You petted your hair again and nodded. 

Thirty minutes later you were next to her in the uber, anxiously picking at some lint on your shirt. This wasn’t you. You didn’t dress up to go drink and fuck some random. You didn’t dirty dance to loud music, hell, you had stiff ass hips. 

Briefly, you pictured your warm bed and your laptop and your cold take-out leftovers from last night but just as you were planning an escape, the car arrived at its destination. 

You hesitated long enough that the driver gave you a sideways glance through the rearview mirror, and then Tsireya was beckoning you with quick flicks of her wrist. 

“Come on!”

You decided to take a good look at your personal hell, and you were surprised to see it was actually a decent looking house. The front yard was maintained and even had stone steps leading to a brilliant blue front door. It was two stories with a white picket fence and you tilted your head to the side in confusion. 

If this was a frat house, it could win an award from the frat HOA.

“Not there.” Tsireya took your hand when you started toward the front door. “He wants us to use the side door.”

You didn’t get to ask who he was, because Tsireya was pushing you by the shoulder blades onto the perfectly trimmed grass to the open side gate at the left side of the property. Now you could hear the music and see those ugly blinking lights that came with every low budget DJ set. 

“Don’t be nervous. You look good.” Tsireya squeezed your arm for what would not be the last time that night when you made it to the side of the house. 

“You think so?” You took a deep breath and focused on the music. Already, it was too loud. You winced as Tsireya pushed you closer to the closed garage door.

“I know so.” She smiled and reached for the door knob, but it swung open from the other side. 

“Oh!”

“Reya?” A man with curly blond hair asked in surprise before he broke into a smile.

“Hey, Spider.” Tsireya smiled back and stepped over the threshold. You stuck like glue to her as she talked with the blond guy who was wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt that smelled of weed. 

As Tsireya chatted with Spider, you scanned the room. This was in fact not the small party you had been promised. The garage was filled with sweaty bodies that moved to and behind the mediocre mix the hobby DJ had put on. In the furthest corner of the garage was an old torn couch with a case of room temp beer. On the other end of the couch was a couple who had been remarkably successful with creating their own world. 

“... With your brother. Dude, he’s gonna be fucking pissed when he comes home.” The man named Spider was laughing. Tsireya giggled and shrugged. 

“Then I better make the most of it now.” 

“Uh-huh. Catch ya in a bit. They ordered brownies from some shady chick on Marketplace.” Spider disappeared behind the garage door and it slammed shut behind him, effectively sealing you and Tsireya to your fates.

Tsireya tugged you along as pushed her way through the tipsy crowd, ignoring most. You survived the crowd and pushed past the garage door leading into the house. 

It was a pleasant surprise to say the least. You had expected the house to be borderline gross, with sticky floors, a putrid scent, and stained furniture. 

But the house was decorated in warm lights and a thoughtful color scheme of warm blues and greens and yellows. Carpets were placed strategically around the living room space and den, elements to the design as much as the furniture pieces were. A dark green accent wall was the furthest from where you stood, with decorative vinyls pinned to the wall. The couch up against it was a navy blue and sitting on it was Kiri and another girl. 

You knew Kiri, after all you shared two classes with her. She was majoring in environmental science, and the age old question of wanting to be her or be with her was a frequent whenever you saw her. You were entranced by her soft hair that fell just right, the polished rings on her fingers, and the effortless air that surrounded her. The few times you had spoken to her, she talked slow and easy like she was putting you to sleep.

The girl she was talking to was giggling at whatever she was saying, and Kiri pressed a lit joint into her palm. You didn’t know who she was, but you felt immensely envious in that moment. 

“Who’s house is this?” You asked Tsireya. Behind the weed you picked up on lingering notes of… Clove?

“Oh. It’s just- Lo’ak!” Tsireya exclaimed. 

Headed toward you was the man you both dreaded and yearned to see. 

“Reya! Where you been hiding, babygirl?” He turned sideways to squeeze between a group gathered at the kitchen island, keeping his beer can up high to prevent it from knocking elbows. 

“Away from you.” Tsireya folded her arms across her chest in defiance. 

Lo’ak snorted and made a point of looking her up and down. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, and Lo’ak’s sharp eyes immediately fell on you. 

“Who’s this?” Lo’ak circled you once like some predatory bird and you could smell his heavy hand of cologne. 

“This is my friend,” Tsireya didn’t smile as she introduced you. She kept her body between the both of you, her final act of heroism. 

“Nice to meet you.” Lo’ak winked at you over his beer can and you felt your cheeks flush. “Welcome to my humble little party.”

Tsireya rolled her eyes but said nothing as you nodded and mumbled a quiet ‘thank you’. 

“Was that the shortest thing you had?” Lo’ak said as he jutted his chin at your dress. 

Your mouth fell open in shock and you quickly smoothed your hands over the skirt. It was barely above your knees, and you swallowed hard as you realized it wasn’t just the shortest thing in your closet, but the shortest thing you had ever worn.

“Lo, stop it!” Tsireya finally broke into a smile as she pushed his shoulder. “God, you’re so gross!” 

“What?” Lo’ak laughed and held his hands up in surrender. “It’s cute! Modest and shit, I get it.” 

By now you were beet red, and you knew Lo’ak could tell by the way he was smirking at you. 

“Let’s get you girls something to drink, yeah?” 

Tsireya followed after him with an eagerness that made you question how serious she was about her earlier warning. You followed behind them, observing Lo’ak critically. He was wearing some loose jeans that fell low enough you could see the band of his underwear. He wore a simple t-shirt, uninteresting jewelry, one pierced ear, and a carabiner with more keychains on it than keys. 

What an idiot. 

You thought, though your gaze remained glued on his slutty waist when he raised his arms to get the attention of someone on the other side of the kitchen island. 

“Do you want some?” Tsireya was pouring herself a cup of a reddish orange drink from a plastic punch dispenser. 

“What is it?” 

“Don’t know. Rotxo made it, and he always puts hella liquor in his shit.” She smiled. 

You pursed your lips together in disapproval, but Tsireya met you with an equally challenging glare. 

“Come on. Don’t be like that. You’re here now, you should try to enjoy it.” She petted your arm and offered you a taste of the drink. You sighed, took the smallest of sips, and immediately gagged. 

“What the fuck?” You sputtered. 

Tsireya and Lo’ak burst into laughter. 

“That shit’s nasty. I’ll get you a real drink.” Lo’ak wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you nearly pushed him away, until you realized Tsireya was smiling at you. 

“I’m gonna talk to Kiri. I’ll be right back.” She said quickly, barely giving you any time to reply before she was weaving through the crowd. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t bite.” Lo’ak grinned. “Why are you so tense? Loosen up.” He squeezed your shoulder and you hoped the heat on your face wasn’t showing through your makeup. 

You ended up in front of a cooler and Lo’ak rummaged through it before,

“You got a boyfriend?” He opened a beer can for you. 

“I would’ve brought him.” You sipped at the foam that had collected on the rim. 

“I don’t know. What if you’re fighting? Needed a distraction?” Lo’ak’s eyes were searching the room, and coming up empty. 

“You provide a lot of distractions, I’m guessing.” You said quietly. It wasn’t like you to be so bold. These comments were the ones you tended to keep inside your head. 

You had feared that Lo’ak would become defensive, as his type usually was. However, he tossed his head back and laughed, a deep sound that warmed your insides. 

“You’re cute.” He wrapped an arm around your waist with confidence. Any other day you would’ve pushed him away. But when he squeezed your hip, you only leaned in closer. 

Contrary to your personal belief, Lo’ak was surprisingly easy to talk to. You chatted about non-important things, which to him meant his classes. He flaunted his low GPA like it was something you would ever be jealous about, but his stupidity was endearing in a way. 

It didn’t take long for you to end up next to him on the couch when the lights were turned off except two small ones on the other side of the living room. Spider, the blond from earlier, had returned with the brownies and you shared one with Lo’ak who made a show of wiping chocolate from the corner of your mouth. 

The simple touch was enough to rile you up after two cups of mystery punch, and you ended up on Lo’ak’s lap before you knew it. For the first few minutes he kept his hands strictly on your waist, testing to see how far you’d go. When you kissed him and pushed your tongue into his mouth, Lo’ak’s hands moved to your ass and you felt the outline of him even through his jeans. 

Then he got bolder. It seemed almost routine for him as his hands trailed up your stomach and cupped your tits through your bra. He pushed them together and smiled when you gasped. 

“Come.” He pulled his hands away and lifted you up from his lap as if you weighed nothing. “Let’s take it upstairs.”

Tsireya and her warnings were long forgotten in your mind as you giggled and followed Lo’ak up the staircase and onto the second level. Your heart was racing as he leaned down to kiss you, took your wrist, and pulled you inside the second room. 

It was quieter here, but you could still feel the bass pumping through the very walls of the house as Lo’ak’s kisses became firmer. 

“You… You’re so soft.” He groaned as he pushed you to the wall and rewarded himself with handfuls of your ass under your skirt. “And you’ve been playing this game the whole night. I’ve seen it. You’ve been trying to get me to take a peek under this fucking skirt.” 

You smiled into his mouth and when he raised one of your legs to wrap around his hip, you obliged. 

“Maybe. Whatcha gonna do about it?” You teased. 

Lo’ak sighed in contentment and pressed his pelvis to yours, rubbing the length of him against your inner thigh. You were sticky between your legs as your pussy clenched around nothing, waiting impatiently. 

As Lo’ak kissed you, your fingers threaded into his long hair and pulled gently at the root. He groaned and pressed his thumbs into your hips, rubbing up and down as his fingers caught on the waistband of your skirt. 

His tongue pushed into yours and then flicked down to your bottom lip as a low laugh slipped past him. You smiled into his kiss and then pulled away. 

“You’re so weird.” You giggled. 

“Yeah?” Lo’ak pulled away, guided you to the bed and when your knees hit the edge, you fell back, bringing Lo’ak down with you. 

“Yeah. And still I wanna fuck you.” 

He slotted his knee between your legs and bent down to bite at your shoulder. 

“M’kay. Fuck me then.” 

The mystery punch had emboldened you to unrecognizable levels. You toyed with his shirt before finally dipping your fingers under it and feeling his stomach. Lo’ak shuddered as you raked your nails over his abs, and he responded with a surprisingly gentle kiss to your jaw. 

“You on the pill?”

“Yeah,” You rasped. 

“Good. Condoms don’t fit me.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You giggled but it turned into a gasp when Lo’ak stuck his tongue out and dragged a stripe from your neck to the valley of your breasts. One of his hands roamed your sides while his other kept him hovering above you. 

Then the door opened, and a beam of the hallway light struck your eyes. 

“Did it happen?” Tsireya giggled as she sauntered into the room and shut the door.  

You jumped and tried to push yourself away from Lo’ak, too embarrassed to be seen with the likes of him. 

“Yeah, baby, it did.” He laughed as he pushed himself off you. “You’re a real one, Rey.” 

Your eyes widened and you looked between Lo’ak and Tsireya, who was wearing a shy grin. 

“Tsireya? You sold me out?” You gasped but a laugh bubbled behind your surprise. 

Tsireya moved about the room with a comfortable familiarity that was unknown to you. Her hips guided her body around the furniture as if it was held in their memory, and you wondered how often she had truly been up here. 

“I didn’t ‘sell you out’.” Tsireya smiled apologetically. “I just knew you couldn’t resist if you were told no.” 

Your cheeks burned as she laid you out, plain and simple. Lo’ak tossed his head back and laughed as Tsireya pressed something into his palm. 

“What’s that?” You pressed. 

Lo’ak smirked at you and popped the pill. Then he opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out, and you saw the small, off-white pill with a smiley face stamped into it.

“Wanna try?” He washed it down with a swig of whatever disgusting mix he had grabbed from Rotxo’s suspicious punch dispenser. 

You looked over to see Tsireya’s reaction. 

“Up to you, love.” She murmured, but you knew by that look in her eye that she had taken one too. 

You figured you’d better fit in, so you nodded and Lo’ak jutted his chin to Tsireya, who presented the pill in her palm as if she had predicted your decision eons ago. 

You smiled at the sight. You really were as easy as she said. 

The drug began to take over your mind and senses as Lo’ak hands roamed your body. Tsireya sat on an armchair with one knee crossed over the other, a wry and knowing smile on her face that she hid behind a plastic cup. 

Lo’ak toyed with the end of your shirt, slowly working it up to your stomach and over your chest. Your skin was warm as the fabric and his fingertips brushed your skin, sending goosebumps popping up over your arms. 

When the shirt was up and over your head, he moved to your skirt next. Big hands kneaded your plump ass, and Lo’ak groaned into your mouth as you swayed your hips. 

“You like it slow?” He grunted as he pulled away. A strand of saliva connected the two of you and you gasped. 

“... Yeah,” You wiped your thumb across your bottom lip. 

Lo’ak smirked and pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his surprisingly built figure. He wasn’t as lanky as you originally thought. Now that his jacket wasn’t hiding his arms, you saw how big they really were and the strength he had. 

The room was warm, spinning in a way that felt unreal. Though you were laying down, you held onto his shoulders and squeezed your eyes shut. 

“First time trying ecstasy?” He asked gently. 

So that’s what it was. 

You nodded again as he spread your legs. Your hands gripped a nearby pillow as he propped one of your legs over his shoulder and came close to your soaked cunt. Your eyes fluttered shut and you waited for the feeling of his tongue. 

Instead, your panties were slid down, and two fingers plunged inside your aching heat. 

“Oh!” Your back arched at the sudden intrusion. “Lo’ak, I thought-”

Lo’ak barely tore his eyes away for your pussy, too entranced by how fucking wet it was already. 

“Huh?” He mumbled. “Oh. No offense. You’re hot, but I’m not about to eat your box.” 

You frowned and heard a high pitched giggle. Your head snapped over to the side, suddenly remembering you weren’t alone. Tsireya was squeezing her thighs together, but she soon stood up and made her way behind Lo’ak. 

“Oh. She’s so pretty.” She breathed as she watched Lo’ak’s thumb press to your clit and rub small circles. 

“Mm!” Your mouth fell agape as your clit was finally lavished with attention. 

Lo’ak was saying something to Tsireya, but you barely heard them over the sound of your pussy slick and your own moans. The drug lit your skin on fire and every plunge of Lo’ak’s long fingers dragged a whine from you. 

It wasn’t long before you were approaching your first orgasm. Tsireya moved onto the bed to cradle your head in her lap as Lo’ak fucked his fingers into you like he had something to prove. You clenched around him, sucking his fingers deeper as your head fell back and the tight knot in your stomach snapped. 

“Ngh-!” Your hand flew to Lo’ak’s forearm as he fucked you through your climax, watching in awe as he fingers came back with translucent strings between them. Your hips bucked toward the ceiling as Tsireya smoothed your sweaty hair and murmured gentle praises. 

“That’s it, sweet. You’re so pretty.” She cooed. 

You turned to hide your face in her lap as the last few waves of pleasure rocked your body. 

“Good job. Ready for more?” Tsireya asked. 

You blinked once and nodded. This wasn’t the situation you had expected to find yourself in, but there wasn’t a thing to complain about. 

Though Lo’ak promised to be gentle and slow, he pulled you by your ankles and flipped you over so your face fell into the mattress. The comforter was soft, smelled of detergent, but you had no time to appreciate it because Lo’ak was getting off on spanking you. 

“Ow!” You exclaimed when he brought his hand down the first time, striking your left ass cheek. Lo’ak smirked, watching how it jiggled after each slap he punished you with. 

“This is for trying to get a rise out of me.” He said, leaving your ass redder with each strike. You cried into the mattress and looked helplessly over at Tsireya, but she was smiling just as evilly. 

This had to be a fucking match made in hell, and somehow you found yourself in the middle of it. 

“You’re crying but fuck, you’re wet.” 

“Fucking put it in already.” You whined as you pushed your hips back to meet his groin. He inhaled sharply and gave you one last punishing spank.

“Hear that, Reya? Your friend isn’t a saint after all.”

“Never said she was.” Tsireya’s words were beginning to slur. 

You heard Lo’aks’s belt clink as he loosened it, and you looked over your shoulder just as he was sliding his boxers down. Your eyes widened when his dick bobbed free, nearly reaching his toned stomach from how hard he was. 

He was bigger than anticipated. His dick was pretty for the most part, on the skinnier side but long and with a pretty tip that was leaking pre. 

“Close your mouth,” He smirked at your shock. “Unless you want me to fuck it, too.” 

You immediately snapped your jaw shut and scowled as Lo’ak rubbed his tip between your folds. You gasped and clenched around nothing, anticipating the intrusion as he collected your slick to lube himself with. Lo’ak grabbed the base of his cock, tapped your pussy a few times, and just as you were getting ready to yell at him again, he pushed himself in. 

“Oh!” You cried out from the sudden stretch. He sheathed himself inside of you all in one go, then immediately pulled out as you gasped. 

“Easy!” Tsireya reprimanded. 

Lo’ak grinned and apologized under his breath. 

“Sorry. You just look so good.” He gave shallow little thrusts, poking just the tip inside of you and you took a deep breath as you acclimated to his size. 

“Ready?” He asked impatiently. 

“Mhm.”

This time he started slow, pushing in with an almost irritating pace to let you feel every thick inch of his cock. He bottomed out and his tip pressed the deepest part of you and you fucking choked. 

“Holy shit… F…fuck,” Lo’ak groaned behind you. His hands gripped your hips enough to bruise, but all you could feel was the fullness of him inside of you. The last time someone was inside of you was your first time, and his dick had been mediocre at best. 

But this?

After a moment of pause he dragged himself back out, and you thought he’d slide back in as gently as the first time. 

You were fucking wrong. 

He pulled your hips down so your ass slapped his hips. Your mouth formed an O shape but only meaningless sounds left you. He became entranced as he did it again, then again, watching the fat of your ass meet his skin with every thrust. 

“S… Shit, Lo’ak, I feel you-” Your face fell into a pillow and you squeezed it between your hands, muffling your own moans in it. 

“God, you feel good.” Lo’ak breathed. “Nice an’ tight.” 

You gripped the comforter, gasping with each brutal thrust of his hips. Lo’ak created a steady rhythm, but each plunge was rougher than the last as if he was trying to break you. 

“That’s a good girl, take my dick.” He groaned into your ear as he leaned over you and angled your hips so your ass was flush to his hips. 

You were reduced to pathetic whines and moans as he fucks into your sloppy pussy, gripping your sore ass for leverage. He tried to pin you into the bed and for you it was a losing battle, until you saw Tsireya bucking into her hands in front of you, whining as she rubbed herself through her panties. The damp spot on her thong had grown, and now her inner thighs were shiny and slick. 

“Thinkin’ ‘bout it?” Lo’ak pressed his chest to your back and bit your ear. “You should help her out.” 

Your eyes went wide as the idea was planted in your mind and rapidly sprouted. Lo’ak seemed to be thinking too much about it, because he started fucking into you like a man possesed. His fingers found your clit and rubbed furiously, and that nervous warmth within you began to swell again. 

“Lo,” Tsireya whined. “I… I need…” 

Your hand was on her knee before you could stop yourself. 

“I wanna taste you, Reya.” You gasped. 

“You are one freaky bitch.” Lo’ak laughed shakily. 

Your eyes rolled back as he pounded into you, skin slapping against sweaty skin. Tsireya was breathing hard in front of you, gently pulling at your hair as she pulled you closer between her legs. Your eyes fluttered shut as the tip of your nose caught her clit and she mewled sweetly. 

“Yes, please. C’mon, love. I need-” 

Your mind was made up. Your tongue darted out, experimentally tasting her hard pearl. Tsireya tossed her head back and sighed long and deep. God, she was so pretty laid out like this. You pressed your lips to her inner thigh, inhaling the sugar sweet body lotion she had lathered herself in just hours prior. 

“Go on.” Lo’ak interrupted and gave you a harsh smack on the ass. “She’s hot when she cums.”

Tsireya whined in agreement. Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in your ears, but you collected your spit onto the tip of your tongue and let it fall directly onto your best friend’s cunt. 

An extra hard thrust of Lo’ak’s hips sent you sailing face first and you tasted Tsireya’s saccharine slick on your tongue. The sound that left her was music to your ears, awakening a part of you you hadn’t even known existed. 

Lo’ak hissed behind you as you tightened around him, a fresh wave of arousal gushing down his cock. 

“What a fucking freak,” He laughed. “You love it. I can feel it.” 

His taunting went in one ear and out the other as you worked your mouth on your best friends. You didn’t even know if you were doing it right, but you were high and so was Tsireya, and any stimulation was better than none, especially when it had her shaking in front of you. You took her clit into your mouth and sucked gently before flattening your tongue and guiding it down to her entrance. 

“Oh, fuck-” Her back arched as her hand flew to the back of your head to press you insistently closer. “There, right, t… there.” 

You ravished attention on her clit and introduced your fingers into her clenching cunt. Her sticky arousal coated your fingers with every purposeful thrust of them, and soon her thighs were closing in around your ears. 

“Shit, she’s close.” Lo’ak grunted. He brought a hand down to smack your as and you swayed your hips in return. The sensations were becoming too much for you; at one end your friend was about to cum on your tongue, and at the other end you were about to cream on Lo’ak’s cock. 

“Come on.” Lo’ak’s fingers found your clit and rubbed in quick, sloppy circles. 

You cried into Tsireya’s pussy, gasping for breath. Your chest grew tight and your body tensed right as that bright, blinding bliss came crashing down on you. 

“O-oh, fuck-!” Tsireya’s head fell back against the pillow as a shiver wracked through her body. 

You were breathless as all senses were overpowered by the sheer force of your orgasm. It rolled down your body in violent waves, tightening your nipples into stiff peaks that rubbed against the comforter with every thrust from Lo’ak. 

Somewhere behind you, you could hear his praise as he slotted himself as deep inside as he possibly could before pulling out and cumming on your back. You felt his throbbing cock rest on your ass, rubbing against it as he panted to catch his breath. 

Your chest was heaving as you fell face first into Tsireya’s thigh. 

“Holy… Fuck.” You cried. 

The room sounded like a damn asthma attack as the three of you gradually collected yourselves. You didn’t realize the music below had been turned off, but in that moment nothing mattered but your recovery. 

“That was… So fucking good.” Lo’ak croaked. 

Tsireya laughed and smoothed your hair. 

“Are you alright, love?” 

You couldn’t speak yet, so you simply nodded. Lo’ak sighed and sat beside you, pressing a kiss to Tsireya’s inner thigh before he lay flat on his back. 

“I haven’t cum that hard in a while.” You finally spoke. 

“Yeah. I tend to have that effect.” Lo’ak replied. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Tsireya said, but Lo’ak was already manhandling you to lay on top of him. 

He pressed a kiss to your lips, still wet from Tsireya’s orgasm. He licked his lips as you pulled away, smiling like the idiot he was. 

Eventually you managed to sit up, and Lo’ak moved to the armchair and sat you firmly in his lap. He rubbed gentle circles on your back, watching as Tsireya scrolled through her phone and sipped at her drink. 

“Wanna go again?” Lo’ak asked suddenly. You looked at him in surprise but Tsireya was the first to interject. 

“Wait. I have to pee so bad.” She cried as she stumbled out of the room. 

You laughed and rested your head on Lo’ak shoulder. 

“You feel alright?” He rubbed your back and took the last sip of mystery punch. “I could do with a joint right now.” 

You rolled your hips against his lap and held him tight. 

“Yeah, I feel good.” 

“Good girl.” Lo’ak set the empty cup down and started kneading your ass again, gripping your hips to guide the way they rolled against his lap, pressing your sticky cunt to his semi-hard dick. 

You moaned as his tip caught on your clit, and you began to increase your speed. Lo’ak immediately reached up to tug your bra down, eager for a second round. He swallowed your cries in his mouth that tasted so bitter it was sweet. 

The door flung open, but it wasn’t Tsireya.

“You are so fucking greedy, Lo’ak.” A deep voice interrupted you. “Two girls?”

Lo’ak turned his head so quickly his braids slapped your face, and you whined at the loss of his mouth. 

“How the fuck did you get in here?” Lo’ak snapped.

“It’s my fucking house, idiot. I just called an Uber for Reya.” 

You strained your eyes to see the person, but all you could make out was an unfamiliar silhouette with long braids. 

“‘Kay. Leave me alone.” Lo’ak snapped as he turned back to you and squeezed your tits. You squealed and threw your arms around his neck.

The newcomer flicked on the lights, and the room was plunged into harsh, blinding white. 

“Fuck!” Lo’ak shouted as he brought a hand up to shield his eyes. You blinked hard and wiped at your face, knowing you must’ve looked a mess. 

“Fucking disguting.” The intruder stood, his face scrunched with disapproval as he looked down at the mess that was you and Lo’ak. You sniffed, keeping your head low as you struggled to pull your bra back up. 

“Dick out and all.” The person continued. 

“Fuck off!” Lo’ak reached up, trying to swat at his brother but he missed terribly. “God, Neteyam, you’re such a fucking buzzkill!” 

You tilted your head to the side. You recognized the name. He was a Senior, academically and athletically gifted. Tsireya had mentioned him a few times, but she spoke of him like a myth. 

But here he was, the myth, staring at you in disgust as Lo’ak courteously pulled your bra back over your tits to hide them from Neteyam’s condemning glare.

“Who are you?” He demanded. 

You cringed and caved into yourself. When you didn’t reply fast enough, he asked you a second time and you promptly gave your name.

“Lay off.” Lo’ak said to his brother. 

You realized he had tucked his dick back into his boxers, so thank god for small mercies. 

“You’re one of Tsireya’s little friends?” Neteyam continued his interrogation. 

“I said fuck off.” Lo’ak patted your ass and you scrambled off him before he tried to rise to his feet, but he cursed and promptly sat back down as he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I’m Tsireya’s best friend.” You hiccuped, your best attempt at introducing yourself. 

Neteyam smirked at you, and you frowned at the fact he didn’t even try to hide it. 

“Well, excuse me.” He mocked. 

He rested his hands on the armchair and leaned in so close, you could smell his clean and warm scent that stood out like a thorn amongst the sticky sweat and the cheap booze of Lo’ak’s room.

“‘Cause your ‘bestest friend in the whole wide world’ just left you at the mercy of my bitch ass little brother.”

“Dude, you fucking suck.” Lo’ak whined.

“Shut the fuck up, Lo’ak.” Neteyam snapped. “Run your mouth again and see what happens.”

You jumped at his sudden outburst but what worried you even more was the fact Lo’ak fell silent and obeyed his brother like it was life or death. 

“I let you use my house to invite a few friends over. I come home and it’s fucking Carnival and these dipshits are pissing everclear on my floors.”

“I didn’t invite them, people just brought plus ones.” Lo’ak interjected.

“Shut your bitch ass up!” Neteyam shouted as he aggressively tapped his palm into the armchair. “I swear to god, you’re cleaning all this shit up tomorrow morning I don’t give a fuck how hungover you are!” 

Lo’ak cringed but that fire in his eye refused to die. 

“I’m not going-“

“I don’t give a fuck.” Neteyam finally stood upright and you could breathe again. “I cleared this motherfuckin’ house of your disgusting friends only to find you big and fucking greedy. Cheap ass motherfucker couldn’t even send Reya off properly with your stringy dreads havin’ ass.”

You hid a polite giggle behind your hand but Neteyam’s attention immediately fell on you and now you were in for it. 

“You think shits funny?” Neteyam began. 

Your face fell and you quickly shook your head.

“Stop, you’re scaring her.” Lo’ak said. 

“Good. She should know better than to end up like this.” Neteyam shook his head and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “This the first time you met him?” He jutted his chin at his brother. 

You swallowed hard and nodded clumsily. 

“Y… Yeah.” 

Neteyam sighed like a disappointed father. You cringed under his glare. Your first time meeting this man and he was already judging you and your sins and probably your whole bloodline. 

“What the fuck are you doing, girl?” He questioned, almost gently. 

You exhaled and stared down at your hands. 

“I just wanted dick and Reya told me Lo’ak was a hoe. That’s all.” You sniffled. 

Lo’ak frowned and Neteyam burst into laughter. 

“There’s no way!” He cackled, much to Lo’ak’s annoyance. His face grew red and you looked at him apologetically, but Neteyam was laughing so hard he was clutching his stomach. 

“She said lemme get some drive thru dick!” 

“Shut up, Neteyam.” Lo’ak whined. 

Neteyam’s laughter eventually died down, and you sighed in disappointment as you started to look for your panties. 

“Ah… You’re funny.” Neteyam said. “Probably the only funny girl Lo’ak’s brought into my house.” 

He finally turned away from you and began searching through the dresser against the wall to your right. 

“You’re pretty, too.” Neteyam called over his shoulder as he yanked open multiple drawers until he evidently found what he was looking for. As Lo’ak cursed his brother to hell and back under his breath, you were still coming up empty for your panties, but your cheeks burned at Neteyam’s compliment. 

Lo’ak had stood up and was looking for his pants when he found Tsireya’s abandoned cup of mystery punch. 

“I want it.” You croaked, hand outstretched. 

“That shit’s fucking gross.” Neteyam said. 

You looked over to find him changing out of his shirt and donning one of his younger brother’s. Your eyes widened as you scanned his body without shame. He wasn’t as lanky as his brother despite being taller. You stared unashamed at his back, in complete awe at how you could see damn near every muscle group as he raised his arms to pull the shirt over his head. 

Damn. Whole family fine.

It was Lo’ak who noticed you were biting your lower lip, and his jaw fell open in shock. 

“Oh but I’m the fucking whore!” 

Your face went red and you glared at Lo’ak with nothing short of hate. 

“Hm?” Neteyam turned back around and adjusted his new shirt. 

“Dude, she’s like, fucking ogling you!” Lo’ak shouted, and then immediately regretted it when his headache came back stronger. “Oh, fuck.” 

“I am not!” You protested like a child. 

You tried to hide your embarrassment with a giant swig of mystery punch, but you gagged again as it burned a trail to your stomach. You held the cup in front of your face longer than necessary, but when you braved a peek around it, Neteyam was staring directly at you. 

“I… Wasn’t.” You tried again, smaller this time. 

Neteyam laughed through his nose, and your stomach flipped at that closed mouth grin that softened his features. 

“Don’t be shy. If you want something, say it.” He shrugged. 

Your eyes widened and this time, you looked him up and down without a care. The you from four hours ago wouldn’t even recognize this new you who was vividly imagining Neteyam under you as you bounced on his cock and felt his abs under your fingertips. 

“Yo?” Lo’ak seemed to be in a permanent state of shock. 

You swallowed hard and averted your gaze. 

“I should go home. Thanks. Sorry.” You rose to your feet too quickly and stars began to dance in your vision. 

“Hey, easy.” Neteyam made quick work of the space between you, and now held you by your arm. “You okay? Lo’ak, what did you do to her?” 

Your chest warmed at his seemingly genuine care. You reached for the mattress and slowly lowered yourself back down. 

“Nothing!” Lo’ak stated, but a guilt that wasn't there before was now etched on his face. 

“Can I get you something? Water?” Neteyam asked gently. 

Your lower lip quivered slightly as you nodded. 

“Lo’ak, go get her some water.” He commanded, and when Lo’ak began to protest, he silenced him with a piercing glare. 

Lo’ak watched his brother with narrowed eyes before he disappeared behind the door, closing it with a soft click.

“Sorry. This must be pretty new to you, huh?” Neteyam sat down beside you and tucked some hair behind your ear. 

You nodded again, and Neteyam bit back a smile. 

“That’s alright. My brother didn’t hurt you, right?”

You shook your head. 

“Good to know.” He stood up and reached for something by the foot of the bed. “Here are these, by the way.”

Your face bloomed red as Neteyam held your panties on the tip of his finger. You reached for them hesitantly, but when he didn’t pull away you snatched them from his hand and balled them up in your fist. 

“I mean it.” Neteyam smiled at you. “Closed mouths don’t get fed.”

Your eyes flicked to his lips and then quickly away. You were jittery from the leftovers of your poor decisions, but that greedy fire in your stomach was lit again. 

“I’ve seen you before.” Neteyam continued. 

He tilted his head slightly, the same habit as Lo’ak. You took a shuddery breath and noticed the clove scent you had smelled when you first entered the house also belonged to its owner. For the first time since he entered, you took a good, long look at him. It wasn't just his body that was pretty, but his face too. You were drawn most to his eyes; slightly upturned like his brother’s but they were a warm honey brown, almost gold. 

“I’ve never seen you.” You breathed. 

Neteyam laughed and scooted closer to you. 

“I like you.” 

Your lips parted and just as you were about to speak the door swung open, but it wasn’t Lo’ak. A tall man stood in the doorway, resting one hand on it. 

“Dude I’m gonna kill your brother for-” Ao’nung paused and stared at you and Neteyam, trying to figure out exactly what situation he had walked into. 

Neteyam made a low noise in his throat, and with one sharp nod of his head, he beckoned Ao’nung over. When Neteyam looked back at you, his eyelids dropped slightly, heavy and hazy with intent.

“... Ao’nung. Meet my new friend.” 

“Okay, I pull up, hop out at the after party

You and all your friends, yeah, they love to get naughty

Lo’ak’s intuition is half joking, half truly disgusted in his observation as he slides a long-handled netted basket off of his shoulder with a jerk of his deltoid. Flopping it onto the stone slab where his older sister sliced fruit, the shells of mollusks clamoured into a pile, adding to her additional prep work. 

“Should they not be here helping you?”

He motions to the poorly strewn mats on the floor, surrounding a crudely slated stone meant to act as a cutting board for the open-fire cooking that would inevitably feed you all tonight. As he watches you throw your head back into what he could only assume to be a cackle. Lo’ak finds himself thinking about how he had finally grown genuinely fond of Ao’nung’s company after all of these years- only for his sister to replace him as a pyre of disdain. Kiri’s intrusion pulls him from the spiraling thought, 

“You can help me too, you know? You are literally right here.”

She unceremoniously shoves a purpling pod towards him, and then points her knife at the two receding girls practically dancing away, “They are helping, by the way. Ao’nung forgot the skewers, so instead of wasting time collecting and stripping new ones, they’re going to go grab some from mom.”

She furthers her sentence by pointing her knife behind her towards where their older brother, Rotxo, and Ao’nong were putting more energy into their conversation than they were into finishing a pit for the fire they would all make dinner on,

“These snumìnaare are also useless, but I hear no words from you about it?”

Lo’ak only snorts a tut at her, and at the stray insult their friends received, as he squats down to help his sister. He accepts quickly that he would have to help Kiri, considering you decided that two people had to make the very short trek back to the village together, a one-man job.

He had just gotten back from a literal run all the way back over to the village- after the whole group spent the day drinking enough to put your fathers to shame- only to grab a huge bag of mollusks your mothers were kind enough to collect for you all. Only to sprint back as quickly as he could as to not waste anyone who was kind enough to clean or cook the foods time. If that was a one-man job, why the hell did you think your job was a two-man job? Ao’nong’s stupid ass could remember to bring two baskets of liquor- but Eywa forgive if he remembered one of the only things they were meant to be cooking with.

“What? Are you mad that our sister has taken your girlfriend?” 

Her quip makes not only his thoughts pause but he pauses mid-skinning of the hard-skinned ocean fruit and turns his head back to his sister indiscriminately. 

“Huh?”

His lip curls over his tooth in a disgust-laced sneer. 

“Are you stupid?” Kiri starts, “Do not answer that. I knew it. Literally everyone else instantly noticed- how are you not aware? Obviously, our sister can charm a woman better than you.” 

For a second, Lo’ak hopes his sister chokes on the fruit she snacks on indiscriminately while they prep meats and fruits for dinner. Her words leading a realization that chilled his skin and made his heart thump almost painfully in his ears.

“Her and Tsireya? Nah. I would know. As I said, they are both gossipy. Buzzing in my ears like gnats. They can’t keep a secret.” 

Yet nothing the rest of the evening presenting him with could distract Lo'ak from keeping tabs on you. He kept you in his peripheral vision as you went about your night. Following Tsireya between her friend groups as if entertaining her masses was your favorite thing to do. Kiri’s words echoed against his skull to the point of a splitting headache. Watching you two now- it only proves that she had obviously been right. The way your ears hang on her every word as she speaks makes him resent the people he off-handedly speaks to.

As more people had flooded the sandbar bonfire, he, against his better attempt, begun to lose sight of you in the pure chaos of festivity. He had thought that in the time it took for him to retell a story of his great escape from a pxazang in his youth, it would be impossible for you to saunter from his gaze. He could not believe that he had been distracted enough for you to slip away, disappearing into the not-too-large crowd. 

He had hoped his composure was still intact.  That no one could tell that his eyes anxiously scanned the crowd, hunting for you. He should be enjoying the melt of raw decapods, briny mollusk skewers, and perfectly charred fish drowned in sauce, but he spends every conscious thought analyzing your every step tonight, not just the way you act, but the way you act with her.

The way Tsireya sat next to you never seemed out of the ordinary to him. Her focus was never usually on you in particular, and outside of the usual girlish daily entertainment, he never saw you two together. How could she be screwing you and go about her day-to-day so casually? He wonders if you two have always been this way. Is that why things do not seem different between the two of you? How long had he been clueless about your cruelties?  

By the time you catch his eye again, he is mid-bite of a fish head, and you are red-cheeked, slinking over to Kiri, stealing a saucy decapod from her bowl while you whisper in her attentive ear. He hates that he notices the way your meticulously adorned hair falls from your shoulder, tail lifting tantalizingly behind you as your body bends towards the table- and not that though you had tried to wipe the evidence, there were streaks of kohl at the ends of your clumped lashes- a stain still on your cheek. You had perhaps been crying, for one reason or another. He hates the fact that he wonders such a perverse thought when there is the possibility that you are upset. He hates even more that his tail flicks with feelings he cannot quite place.

He remembers his earlier conversation with Kiri so vividly as she turns to you to say goodnight, running the back of her hand over your cheek in a soothing goodbye. His heart rate rises, and the organ beats so forcefully against his ribs that it aches when he realizes that Tsireya is not also present. The fact that whatever happened has you saying goodnight and leaving down the long sandbar towards the village could be the result of her.

The sight of you, and the decision that it spurred, has made the shell that he scoops from the large fermented liquid bowl at the center of the table go down easier. The smell is sharp, earthy, too sweet, and it stings his throat down to his already aching chest as he slurps it. 

Lo’ak has always been very good at making his very bad decisions look dangerously organic. The laugh while clapping his hands with his friends, as he wished everyone a good night, seemed all too natural. His end-of-the-night, too-tired-to-go-on, last shot was too realistic in performance to be perceived as a lie. He wastes not even a second before he locks onto following your half-washed-away footsteps back towards a sleeping village.

Thankfully, Lo’ak is alien, at the end of the day, he would have biological advantages that you simply did not. His limbs are longer than yours.  His dad had always said that humans only survived because they were born to run and that Loa’ak had an exceptionally efficient stride length. You were agile- he thinks some would say, but nonetheless, you were within his line of sight before he realized he needed to catch his breath. 

He is surprised you did not hear him (if he was being quiet) he was not intending to do so. For a second, he realized how fucking weird he was being. How predatory. He did not know if it was the sharp sea breeze or the realization that you had no idea he was looming so closely to you, but he had stopped, toes digging into the sand.

Like a yerik face to face with an arrow, he froze. He feels gross watching you choose to walk towards what everyone considered to be a scenic route adjacent to the village. Your eyes are glued to the floor as you walk- likely you were still crying- that you have been upset the whole time. Or well, he thought that was the case- until the spark of a flint caught his eyes, and he realized that perhaps you were looking down to shield the spark with your hair. 

He is relieved that you walked past her home (all of your homes, really) and that the reason for your early departure was only to crook yourself into one of the many sandbars mangrove woven loungers, and there was no trace of his newfound enemy to be seen near you. He had recognized it as one made months ago by their friends- when the water was much higher and still grazed the bottom- and it had been taken advantage of by your friend group as a prime nap spot.

Maybe, he thought, if Tsireya wasn't the reason for your tears, she would be there with you- part of him hoped this meant what he thought it did.  He also knew that, maybe he should not have been so relieved at that thought that he was able to disregard his guilty anxiety. However, he doesn’t think twice before he is rushing up behind you, balls of his feet silent in the sand- committing to surprising you as he snakes his hands down on your shoulders to jostle you slightly.

You swing your elbow back to hit him because, though you did not know how long he had been following you, you knew it had been him watching you. You knew he had watched you sit down and that it was him who so brazenly approached you. You especially knew it was him whose hands snaked around your delicate skin due to the overwhelming fruit-spiced amber nearly clearing your stuffed-from-tears sinuses.

“Go away, Lo’ackchhh” 

You hiccup out the end of his name- pathetically ruining your attempt to hiss at him, teeth snapping centimeters from his face as you turn. He wants to laugh at you; he even lets a chuckle build in his throat before he sees that you have truly continued to cry a bit while smoking. 

His thumbs are quick to wipe under your eyes, staning his thumb with powdered coal. He ignores your exasperated sigh as he positions himself to sit in front of you. 

“Hey- what happened? Why are you like this?”

You are almost heart-warmed, but he is also snatching the blunt out of your hand to smoke himself. You know you make a face at this because he grins, “You are crying- I bet you got boogers. You don't need this yet.” The gentle voice replaced with impish vex.

Your tail is swishing against the woven lounge and curling around your propped-up leg in projected poison. He thinks for a second- there is genuine disdain radiating from you.

“What does it matter, bro-” he cringes at the title.

“Go back to the party where you belong; get out of my face.”

“You belong- who made you think you don’t?”

You respond by leaning your one elbow against your knee and digging your palms into your eyes, melting spots blinding you from the pressure. “Holy shit,” you sound like your father when you speak, and you are just as bad at talking about your feelings as he is, ready to complain about his pestering-

“Is it Tsireya?” 

His words have you reaching for the perhaps too tightly wrapped herbs out of his hand and pulling it to your lips. 

“No- Yes- it's not actually what she said, but it is what she meant, I guess. Can you just not be a dick for once, and can we just hang out quietly for a bit? Please?” 

He doesn’t like how meek and defeated you sound. You can tell when you look up, and his ears are pinned to his head in a sort of confusion, pupils small and hyper-focused on your half-curled form. But he only nods when he sees you release a too-large puff of smoke and pull your knee closer to your chest. 

You pass him the blunt, and Lo’ak, for once, keeps his promise not to annoy you. His lack of pestering you about why you were upset allowed you to calm down enough to enjoy passing a smoke back and forth between each other. He enjoyed looking at you when you were too lost in your own head for him to notice, yet his mind was racing with what could have possibly been said to you to have you so overwhelmed- so defeated. 

Realistically, he should be enjoying the cool breeze that the seaside woven lounge had subjected the two of you to. Zone you out while he listened to the soft crash of the waves behind him. However, he could only look at you, watch you intently as you struggled to continue to smoke after such a long, and what he only assumed to be dramatic, night. But you cough and barely cover your mouth and throw your head back as if that would possibly help you, and you look useless. Your brows unfurrow by the time you lean back up. A bit of a relieved grin that your coughing fit is over as your hand extends to him, only moving your body forward enough to make the transaction.

Once he grabs it, you melt down on your side of the lounge, body curving along the length of the outdoor couch, but the back of your shoulders and head are propped against the armrest like it’s a makeshift headboard. Your one leg was bent and rested against the backrest; the other was propped and bent similarly, to conserve room on the couch for him. Despite how hurt he felt with you, his heart swelled at your effortless accommodations. You were too inviting. Too perfect of an image to not have his mind wander to idealistic corners- corners where you pick him and not her. 

Fantasy’s where you let him stay in this dark corner of the beach with you for literally anything more than smoking a joint with your adopted brother after a dramatic night. He would take any speck of affection you extended to him. Comfort you any way you needed… He feels so guilty for hoping that she was terrible to you. Hoping that it meant that even for a little bit longer, he could keep you to himself.

He has to adjust his position, mimic your relaxation by throwing his one leg over your body to land against the backboard of the lounge, and cage either side of your curled-up form between his legs. Comfortably sharing a lounge chair not particularly meant for more than one person to lie down. He watches your hands move to wipe the sand that invaded your sitting space off his legs, haphazardly flinging sand back to the floor;

“You are gross, and sandy. Why do you have to come bother me with all this tonight?” 

But your left hand finds its rest, fingers wrapped pliably around his ankle, thumb smoothing over the thin skin of his inner ankle. Your own bent leg, tired of holding itself up, falls out to relax against his solid leg. You could not hate his presence so much. Especially when he is kind enough to lean forward to share with you. He sits up for a bit, as he watches you begin to inhale the beginning-to-end blunt. Your sapphire ribs grow and expand with your breath, and he eyes how your waist tightens when you inhale. Your tail has fallen across his leg, resting across one of the protruding veins by his knee. The tuff of your hair felt like fire against his skin.

Suddenly, Lo’ak feels like he’s inside. Like the air around him cannot move, and that the eyes of everyone he has ever known are on him and it’s not out of humiliation or fear… but out of regret. How has he wasted so much of both of your time? How could he have ever given anyone the chance to ever sit this closely to you?

“What can she possibly even be doing to you, anyway?”

He knows that you are instantly mad again at his question. He almost regrets the inquiry that falls from his cross-faded vocal cords, but he genuinely wonders how she could properly handle any aspect of your multilayered needs. Needs that he had spent your whole lives becoming accustomed to.

The question catches you so off guard that you nearly drop the smoke, lucky to awkwardly catch it before the burnt tip falls into your lap, as you quickly sit up. The tone in Lo’ak’s voice is unfamiliar to you- and that frightens you. 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

He can tell you are wildly offended at his question, though the strained squeak in your voice and the quick movement to inhale your lungs' capacity of smoke prove to him that you know exactly what he is talking about- and you aren't sure how you want to answer him.

He feels a little bad that he sneers down at you as he takes the joint from your exasperated hand, watching you turn to look towards the water instead of him. You can't bring yourself to look at him without tears of humiliated discomfiture welling at the corners of your eyes. You can't bring your eyes to him. There is just an unhurried confidence in the way he sits.

His mid back falls against the armrest; he seems overall too relaxed, considering he is broad‑shouldered, half‑lounging against the armrest, giving him a slightly asymmetrical lounge to accommodate his stature. His shoulders make the armrest look small, almost insignificant beneath him, but the real issue is that, from your intertwined form, you slumped down further then him, was face to face with his sweat-dappled torso stretching along the woven pad of the lounge, long and sturdy. You inch backwards under the pressure of his deafening silence in a squirm. 

“Well, you are just obsessed with Tsireya all of a sudden- and now you are crying, so it has something to do with that?” 

His voice started uncharacteristically calm, like he knew the answer to the question already but he could not help but end the quip in his usual bullying, sarcastic jest that you had grown to not only be comforted by, but also expect throughout your lives. He thinks for a second that this is the reason you have been making an effort to hide your poorly hidden rendezvous with none other than Tsireya. The same women his parents idealized him with before he couldn’t bring himself to continue when it became a charade.

For a second, he realizes that he has spent the whole day hoping that the only reason you did any of this was that you knew it would hurt him. There was a part of your clueless brain that knew he and Tsireya never worked because he wanted you. That you wanted to just get him worked up. But the way you hand instantly wraps around your neck, and you look up to the twinkling stars above in defeat, makes his heart pang.

           Maybe it is also because your face contorts into a grimace of guilt, and your ears pull tightly back against your skull; he knows it is more realistic to think that you hid all of this from him because you thought he would feel betrayed that you had been hooking up with the only romantic escapade of his life. A well-known aspect of friend group lore. He has time to blow smoke towards your form before you acknowledge him with a small shrug of your shoulders;

“Well… I thought she was obsessed with me. I don't know; I just thought she liked me- liked me more than you, at least.”

Even you cringe at attempting to lighten the suddenly re-thickened mood. Considering Lo’ak’s smirk is laced with a snarl, you know it did not land. His pupils darting to watch as your tail quickly curls over your now pulled back legs in cowed compliance.

“Damn, backstabbing whore, and you are sitting here crying, so it ain’t even worked out for you.”

The words are quick, like a whip, and make tears finally spill from your eyes. Blurring blobs that keep you from realizing that his sneer falls quickly, replaced by a small grin that would make you think, even for a second, that this was all a bit, and that he was messaging with you from the beginning to get a reaction out of you. That he did not care that you spent any time with his- practically speaking- ex.

Most importantly, you miss that he did not really mean you were a whore- that he felt bad that watching your face fall made his stomach twitch- but he doesn’t change the conversation. He just leans further back onto the armrest, long and large, deciding he was going to finish your blunt himself and force you to answer him. He has already made it this far.

“Do not call me that- you ended things with her years ago.” 

He is surprised that you steady your voice before you answer him. Avoiding the usual immature, nasal, and blubbery tone you often responded to him with. Of course, his insults are the part you latch on to as you try to snatch the smoke back out of his hand. Not how you hurt his feelings. Not how you lied to him.

Your hands only meet his own however, as they wrap around your wrist to toss yours aside. You know this conversation has been inevitable for weeks- since you started this dangerous game with his ex-girlfriend, but part of you still curses yourself for sitting back on the wicker in a huff, rolling your eyes in the process, and staying for whatever rudities Lo'ak had to spit at you to move past this event. 

Though part of you is at peace with this outcome, because he was right. It did not work out for you. He eyes you as you give in, returning to mimicking his propped-up position, resting your legs back against his, even going as far as flipping your tail back over, fuzzy end flopping back onto his inner knee. Accommodation.

“But yes, you are right. She doesn’t want me.”

You had never once in your life admitted that he was right about anything. He thought for a second it was another way you were accommodating him now- making yourself smaller to please him. It makes his brows furrow and his lips pull into a frown. Now that you’ve continued to speak to him, he has no time to focus on the fact that you returned to lounging so casually and openly in front of him. How could he blame you, though? Who could you possibly be closer to? It pained him to wonder if there was anyone else you could be so relaxed around. You have been inseparable since your youngest years- never once were you not trailing behind each other like lingering shadows. Despite the often aggressive nature of your childhood arguments, his constant bullying, and his teasing, he had always favored you. Which is why he hoped you felt exceptionally guilty that he was so displeased.

Eywa has to forsake him- his mother had literally taken you in and raised you with the same love she showed the rest of his siblings after the unfortunate death of your parents, simply because it made sense to raise her childhood best friend's daughter alongside her newest son. Every day for all of those years, you and Lo’ak were together- but how could he love anyone else? How could he watch you love anyone else?

“So why do you still smell like her?”

Lo’ak pulls his inner leg up to rest his arm on his lower thigh, motioning for you to further explain the story. Your arms curl over your pearl-adorned chest as you roll slightly on your shoulder, turning away from him slightly; only your eyes snap over towards Lo’ak, finally meeting his looming, judgemental gaze- and you dare to look enraged at what he thinks is a rather astute observation.

“Are you fucking mad at me or not?” 

Your words are sheer desperation as you snap at him more aggressively than you intend to, considering you will not turn your head from the waving sea to look towards him. Ultimately, you know you are in the wrong, but no one threatens your pride more than Lo’ak. 

“No, of course, I’m absolutely elated that my best friend is whoring herself out to the very near and dear to my heart-“ 

“YOU DUMPED HER!” 

You move finally, looking forward, and him and shooting towards him to just about get in his face. You wave your hands at him as if you have any say in his feelings, sitting up too quickly on your knees to meet eye to eye with him. Had the blunt not been obstructing his dominant hand, he’d have grabbed both of yours up, but he opted to use his only free hand to smack your hands back down towards your laps. 

“Do not raise your voice at me- you are the wrong one.” 

He maneuvers the blunt from his dominant hand so he can extend a threatening finger at you before handing the last hit of the blunt to you. You try to open your mouth to answer- to defend yourself- but the way he stares you down has you accepting you must tread the lines he places carefully, face screwed in a defeated, petulant moue.

“I could not really care less about what you have to say to defend yourself right now,” he adds, landing like a twisted dagger in your gut. 

       You recoil the same way you do when his mother or father scolds you- something you’re rarely used to. No one ever holds you accountable- so Lo’ak never gives you a chance to talk your way out of anything. Especially this one. Not when you have so deeply hurt him. 

“Lo’ak-” 

     Your voice has the stupid bleat you use to get out of doing chores when his father is barking orders.

“Shut up- finish that and tell me what happened tonight so I can feel some sort of pity for you.” 

He nearly wraps your fingers around the blunt himself as he pushes your hand to your lips. His puppeting has him in proximity to you, letting him get another good smell of your body. Your stomach reeked of her. All the mesenteric nodes below your skin, poisoned with what he would consider unfamiliarity.

"Is it really worth it? Does it-"

“Obviously, she is worth an awful lot if she is worth breaking your brother's heart.” 

Your body jumps a bit at his words, and you huff out of your nose, squeezing your knees to your chest to rest your turnt head away from his gaze as you grow uninterested in the soon-to-be roach of a blunt. You felt your body recoil at his words. Flinch at the very implication of harming someone so close to you for your own pleasure. Breaking your brother's heart. Because that's what he is. 

His ears twitch down as he glares at the crown of your head. Lo’ak rarely referred to your status as siblings- since his adolescence, he has always had a crush on you. He has figured that at this point, people have caught on. 

“Lo’ak we are just bored- only a few years ago, things were literally being blown up around us. There is not much to do anymore…"

“I thought I said I did not want to hear excuses. Especially an ungrateful and selfish reason like boredom.” 

          For Eywa’s sake, he was never the warden like this. You could always inevitably talk circles around him- so Lo’ak’s unyielding, cool wrath made you writhe. He truly couldn’t comprehend how you could whine out such a selfih, bratty answer- because you are bored? Had he harbored any romantic feelings for Tsireya still, and had you given him that excuse? He’s not even sure how he would begin to react. 

“You think perhaps I care more that you lied and hid this from me?” He finally asked,

“I did not lie to you I just did not tell-”

“You were deceitful-"

“I was lonley.” You admit to him, handing him back the ending smoke you did not want to finish anymore, “Besides, I don't even know how this became about you. I was the one crying.”

His form shadows you as he sits up. You feel one of his palms on the side of your head, and a thumb caresses your loose hair, grazing your cheek. You feel him laugh a bit through his nose, half-hearted and soft;

“So you get to be a whore when you’re bored, and there are no repercussions?”

         You do the predictable and try to push his hands off of you, not even trying to sit up to meet him. Yet Lo’ak only needs to knit his fingers through your hair to keep you in place and stop your aggressive advance. You only whine when the force of your shove at his arm yanks your own hair. 

“Lo’ak stop it-”

          Your nails dig into his forearm as your eyes strain to look over where he threatens to pin your head against the armrest.

“I am sorry you had a bad night;” He starts, “If she rejected you or whatever- but I have every right to be mean to you.” 

          When Lo’ak sits up on his knees, extending his form to his full length briefly, only to return down to curl his body over you, bring his face close to yours, his hand forcing you to crane your neck the way he positions you to avoid him tugging your sensitive scalp.

“Not like this.”

Your whiny assertion laments across the air, and he worries you may leave bloodied marks down his skin with the way your nails dig into his wrist and forearms- the ache in your voice leaves a worse mark on his heart. He worries that maybe you would not return the advances he began to plan. He worried that the way your tail is snaked between his legs, twisting and wrapping around his own, meant not what he felt it did.

He thinks this is the most pathetic you have ever looked. Reddened eyes lidded over, and so desperately straining to look at him that you appear cross-eyed from his looming stature, lashes clumped together and face red from crying. He also thinks it is the most beautiful he has ever seen you. So pliable and in your own way, submissive.

For a second, he wants to untangle his long fingers from your soft hair and loosen his grip against your pinned cheeks he now squeezes between his other hand- but you were sitting so still between his legs, and now you were letting him crane your neck up to finally look towards him fully, and you haven’t let him get this close to you in years without snapping, or hissing or growling. He couldn’t force himself to give this up. 

“Please, Lo’ak, stop being mean to me-”

“You like it- you would have stopped me already.” 

It’s a low grumble; he sounds almost strained- maybe nervous. Like a growling animal long stuck in a trap. Too long stuck in a trap. 

“Besides, you are the one who likes being mean to me, huh? Prancing around like a whore making me look stupid?”

           Your eyebrows furrow at his words. You were not prancing. You were hiding. Not because of you, or him- but her. She did not want anyone to know. She simply did not see a future that aligned with you. And she did not want to deal with that in the present… outside of sex.

“St-stop callin’ me a whore-” his laugh is mean as it cuts you off, 

“Fine- ‘M sorry, lemme replace the smell then, huh? I’ll fix it.” 

You think you take too long to answer him because, for the first time in years, Lo’ak’s face is in your neck, nose running against just beneath and in front of your ear. Licking across the veins and his nose, dancing across your cheek.

Memories flood back of times of inappropriate closeness throughout your life. Other times that you had felt his breath in your ear like this. The warmth from his body shields you from the seabreeze, and you are thankful for how stoned you are to avoid processing the very ambered beach-salted mineral scent of him burning down your suddenly very clear sinuses. 

“I never intended to make you look stupid-”

You try to wiggle your head out of his hands and turn to face him on your own, but he is finally face-to-face with your sensitive neck, so he doesn’t budge. You couldn’t make him budge. After his few deep breaths, 

“So you were just looking for sex from her?”

Of course, that's what gets your eyes to start watering again. Whether it was the humiliation of his words or even the reminder of the fact that that's what you were to Tsyiriea.

“Y-No. No, I don't know... I just feel like no one likes me.”

This is the most open you’ve been with anyone in months, and of course it's your boundary-crossing adopted brother pulling it from you like rotten teeth. 

“I like you.”

You finally feel his teeth against your neck with pressure, an incisor catching on a bulging artery. He hates that you flinch at the admission, and subconsciously pushes himself deeper into you, loosening his grip on your jaw to run his fingers across the opposite side of your neck and face.

“We are not thinking properly right now.”

You have always been the rational one.

“We are apparently not thinking properly every minute of every day, then… are we really going to go back to torturing each other like that?”

  You don’t know if you are more focused on his descending hand dancing down your sternum or the fact that, for the first time, he truly kisses your neck. You don’t jump away from him in the slightest- like he had been used to. Instead, you let his alien hands travel from their previous constricting position down your twitching stomach, and to your hips.

The pores on his back tingle and tighten at the realization that for the first time you finally melt into his hands, you didn't feel the urge to push his exploration away. As he loves on you, your gaze travels to watch Lo’ak’s hand, resting casually on your hipbones, the knuckles paling as fingers curled into your flesh engulfing your bone. 

"What if-” 

You try to reason, sit yourself up on your hands, to pull him away from his new mission of trying to pull you to lay you down on your back. Your proximity was sudden and deliberate. For years, your physical contact had been limited to the reflexive gestures of siblings—quick hugs, a shoulder bump in passing—but this felt like a conscious choice to bridge a gap that has been too longstanding.

Lo’ak pulls himself from where he licks at your neck, coolness falling over the spiraling silava trail. His gaze began to travel your face before he paused to look down at the charcoal smudge of your eye makeup on your cheeks. He doesn't let you finish your sentence before his eyes are back to your star-reflecting ones, his expression open and devoid of the hesitation he usually carried in public with you. "All I know is I hate the way you smell right now," he admits meekly, "let me fix it… Please," 

He didn't reach for you further, but he did not move away either; he remained in that charged middle ground, leaving the next movement entirely up to you. Though he hopes his fingers dancing against your stomach, testing how much lower you would let him feel, right down to the skin where her knows your cervix sits behind. Fingers nearly dipping into your bottoms to coax your answer.

It takes you a second- before your hand rises to meet his flexed stomach. He had beauty spots littering his lower abs, which you had sometimes imagined kissing. You could feel the thump of his heart through his sun-dappled skin and wonder if he could feel how your heart raced at your thought. 

His pulse was a rapid, drumming thing, but his hands were steadily exploring your stomach without fear, then back your ribs, then behind your back where his fingers circled the first knot of the back of your top. It was a small, tentative anchor, a way of checking if he was still grounded in the same sudden reality you were in. 

Lo’ak let out a long, slow exhale, his shoulders dropping forward as he finally pulled the first knot of your top, boobs finally loose from the constriction of the beads- and you are just looking at him with those big, clueless eyes. He is not sure if he's happier that he’s got you so willing like this, or that you finally seem past the point of being upset.

He shifted his weight on the balls of his feet, inching toward you until his knees propped against the back of your thighs taughtly flexing them open, throwing your legs over each of his ridged thighs. His hands leave your body, and suddenly one is propped above your head, on the armrest, he has your head and shoulders against. The other is gently palming your cheek. You think maybe he means to say something, but all he does is lean down to lay a kiss on your forehead. Then your eyes, cheeks, nose, chin, and finally he is back down at your neck where he started huffing and sniffing at a scent gland that you, as a species, long evolved past the need for.

"This is so much better for us than her,"

He finally whispered against your skin, with a comfortable sureness that made your body too quickly agree. You wonder why you spent so long avoiding this obvious path of least resistance. Why did you avoid the comfort of Lo’ak? Especially now as his lips and teeth and tongue languish against your tingling skin. There was a trace of a smile on his lips, a flicker of the same impish jest that usually drove arguments between the two of you, but it was tempered now by something heavier and more visceral. It made you reach for his cheek. The contact was grounding, a physical confirmation that the two of you were no longer talking in circles or hiding behind the safety of arguments.

He leans down and kisses you properly on the lips. It makes you feel stupid for dragging on so many pointless romantic plot points in your life. You could have saved yourself time, effort, rejection... everything. Especially with how responsive and willing Lo’ak’s kiss was. When your lips met his, it wasn't the tentative, clumsy clash you had worried it might be. Instead, it was a slow, exploratory, almost a punishing merging of two people who already knew the rhythm of each other's thoughts and were now trying to map the rhythm of their bodies.

Lo'ak's teeth are bigger than yours, and you feel their point when his teeth graze the tip of your tongue, which he drags out of your gasped mouth with his own. His touches no longer felt tentative as he pulled you up towards him, holding you up, skin-to-skin with him. When your own hands reached behind your neck to untie your top fully, Lo’ak’s breath hitched, a small, sharp sound that broke the stillness of the beach. He didn't pull away instanly to take in the sight; instead, he leaned into your action, his own hand rising slowly to cover yours- to help you and pull the top out of your hand. To toss away the partition between your chest and him by its halter as if it disgusted him. Only then, when it was fully gone, lost in the sand, did he pull from your mouth to look down at you. 

His smile was instantaneous as his warm palm, grip firm yet gentle, engulfed your left breast. For a moment, you simply stayed like that, two people caught in the gravity of a decision they had been avoiding facing. Lost in the sound of the waves and the salt across your skin as he leans down to kiss and bite at the swells of your chest as his face fell down your chest to your torso. He wastes no time in kissing and licking around the intricate details across your skin, across your hips. His one hand stays on your breast, revolving between tweaking and caressing your swelling nipple. He smiles against you as you purr as he bites over a second scent gland. 

Part of his bliss is ruined by knowing someone else was just in the same position he was. He could still vaguely smell her on your skin. He wondered if, despite what was happening before his eyes right now, you may not actually want him. Not the way he wants you.

"Are we actually doing this?" He finally asks. 

He does not look up at where you lie, eyes closed, back finally flat, and mewing. He hated that it sounded like a plea for reassurance, not a request for confirmation, a final check of the parameters before a boundary crossing officially began. 

"I think I have spent enough time talking to you tonight- giving you answers."

He can hear your voice steady, with a curl of your lip, despite the loud drumming in your chest. His tail flicks angrily behind him, and instead of speaking again, he shocks you by digging his teeth sharply into the crease of your thigh where inguinal glands sat without warning. He is surprised that you nearly shriek, considering he had just been licking and kissing at the same for the past two minutes. He should feel bad when there's a metallic twinge in his mouth, but your hand rushes to knot into his braids. 

“‘S yours- it’s yours- don't be mean,” and your knees are jerking to the side of his head, attempting to dig the heels of your feet into the bench, to twist your hip from his aggression.

He reaches behind himself with his free hand to roughly push your leg back by the ankle, pushing your leg off the lounge and into the sand. Denying your attempt to keep him away from you. 

He stands up on one leg, the other knee propped on the bench, holding your left leg up against the backrest of the seat. He admires how contorted he has your body, thinking that disheveled and malleable looks desirable on you. He bends down to kiss you quickly once more, happy that you respond right away and your lips still taste like his spit when he forces his tongue back past your teeth. You are finally licking back at his tongue as his palms briefly massage your breasts before snaking down the writhing small of your back, pulling at the sturdy braiding of your tweng. Pulling you up by the hips, closer until the space between your pelvis vanished entirely. The sensation was overwhelming—the sudden warmth of another person, the specific weight of him against you, the way his breath hitched in time, the threatening contact of his hardening dick.

His less needed hand drop to one of the knots, eyes straining from where he eyes your covered cunt, propped up by his own leg, to your heavily lidded gaze. You don't wait for him to ask if you’re okay, or give him a chance to make a degrading quip- you just wiggle your hips in a tantalizing beg that made his ears rush with noise. He doesn’t even untie the braided and beaded fabric all the way, snagging the fabric against the sensitive underside of your tail as he practically yanks at the fabric. He thinks people in the village were woken up by your yelp. 

You flushed red hot, very much aware of just how exposed you were with your legs out and your twebg so soaked through that it was likely slightly transparent. You knew you should close your legs and save some sort of decency, but he's now half folded, half sliding to his knees between your splayed legs, and the imposing existence of his broad shoulders has you spread frozen. He hooks his fingers over the last bit of resistance and slides them down your legs and tail.

“You did quite a number on these.”

 You don't even think he tossed your bottoms in the same pile as your top as he chose to focus on his hands running up the fat of your thighs, pausing to squeeze at your firm flesh to spread you slightly. “Wonder who’s gotten you so worked up?”

You can help the annoyed hiss and bite your lower lip in an effort to stifle it, blush spreading over your face. Your cunt clenches before his eye, trying to grip on something but finding nothing- so sensitive that just the feel of the breeze on your heated flesh was almost painful. So swollen and flushed and dripping with slick in his face. He is dizzy. Technically, he’s seen this much of you before, in passing—but he’s never been allowed to really look at it, never like this.

“You.” Your voice cuts the air, shame and excitement rising in you in equal measure. “You know it’s you. Not anyone else.”

Your tail is twitching wildly against his inner calf. You are switching between petulant flicks and desperately snaking yours around the base of his own- and he can’t help but think of how precious you were to him.

His cheeks hurt from grinning as he runs his calloused thumb over your lower lips, circling the bottom of your opening. Your gasp is raspy, and your thighs shoot inwards and quiver. His palm is flat as he pushes your leg back open. His touch was light, just a tease compared to the clumsy intrusions you’d been used to. Your hips - against your will - jump up, closer to his face.

“Relaxxxx.” He chuckles, but he meets your movements with the instant intrusion of a finger in your cunt. “I told you I’d take care of you.”

You arched your back, hips thrusting down on his hand. He could touch you inside so much better than she was able to, then you were able to. His rough digits curled towards himself as he firmly rubbed you. You could not believe he was there, kneeling between your spread legs and touching you so deeply. He is more focused on kissing your stomach and mons. Sinking his teeth into your skin and raking his free hand down the back of your thigh, palming the fat of your ass. 

He likes these noises this draws out from you very much, but he can't help but be worried that an unfortunate passerby may fall victim to your dubachery so he has no choice but to slow his fastpaced assault, and run his tongue flatly over your swollen clit,

“I said relax,”

His voice raspy and lust filled, a sharp spasm of arousal deep in your cunt jolts through you. “Just quiet down before someone ruins this.”

You try to relax, to let him have you. Just to breathe…let him do what he wants. However, he curls his fingers just behind your bone and glans that he had been biting and bruising all night, never going in too deep. He is good at rocking his unnaturally large hand back and forth, pressing hard into you, pressure building unexpectedly quick.

You finally lift your head to look down at him only to find him already staring up at you, watching you as you contort and gasp with pleasure. His pupils, blown out, darkened with hunger, concentrated directly on you. You realize he had, at some point, added more fingers without you noticing. Your legs tremble, imagining if fitting them all was even possible.

You wonder if your eyes on him made him as nervous as his eyes on you made you feel as he leans down and kisses your hard nub. Burying his face into your cunt and you cry out loudly against his previous instruction. Thankfully, his tongue darts out to lick you still, only grumbling in warning. He pressed his lips harder against your cunt, firmly kissing and licking you as he continues his fingers assault on you. You cry out in earnest now, unable to keep yourself quiet, unable to even pretend you have any measure of dignity at this point in your life. 

Your back arches against the lounge, your hips driving down on his face and deeper onto his fingers. Panting, you groan out your climax as it finally cracks over you, lower stomach relaxing in an overwhelmed bliss. He doesn’t stop, though. Both out of his own enjoyment, and also the desire to make sure this moment is unforgettable for you. Despite the ache his jaw begins to experience, he never waivers, broad tongue licking you firmly through your orgasm, gently easing you down from your intense high. He loves the way your inner lips pulse and twitch out your pleasure against his grin. Your walls grip and pull at his fingers.

“You’re alright, pretty girl…” He said, basking in the clench of your core at his words, pulling away from you gently, his mouth shiny and wet with your cum.

He gently pulls his fingers from you, dragging them up against your walls as he does so. He stands up and leans over to kiss you, his soft lips wet with your scent. You thought you would have been mortified to taste yourself, but it fills you with a deep longing for more. He kisses you deeply, tonguing you so thoroughly that you feel dizzy from it. He strokes your cheek when he pulls away, his thumb coming to rub lightly along your lower lip. He pauses, thumb pressing into your mouth, inviting you to suck him. You wrap your lips around his thumb and tentatively suck, swirling your tongue gently around his thick digit.

He stares down at you, lightly thrusting his thumb in and out of your mouth, allowing your lips to pull with his motions. He fumbled with the heavy tie of his tweng, and you blush at the logical conclusion of events. He frees his almost uncannily thick cock, gripping it in his rough hand and giving it a few pumps. Your eyes widened, taking in his thick, veiny forearms, and the unconventionally thick cock beading at the tip. Your sucking stops- stifling your whimper at the sight of him.

Time didn't so much pass as it melted for him. Especially when he takes the wad of spit you have left on his thumb, and slides it across the tip of his cock, instantly trying to snag himself against the hole he is praying he has scissored open enough. 

“I wan’ yer cunt to smell like me for the rest of your life.”

You don't even have the time to process his words as his left hand pushes the back of your one leg up and open, sliding the head of himself into you. You moan, sitting up slightly, feeling just the tip slide in past your slick entrance. He could feel you fluttering around him already. 

“Oh-Eywa-you feel so good sweetheart- finally- fuck-” He pushes in deeper, enjoying how much of a mess you already had made, how eagerly you accept the intrusion, “I’m going to make a mess out of your cunt.” 

He was practically grunting like a cordered beast looking down seeing a thin sheen of both of your arousals coating his dick, the sight made him throb inside you.

“Lo’ak!” You moaned, writhing your head back again while digging your claws into his dominating forearm.

Your legs burned from keeping this position, but your whine does not slow his brutal exploration of your pleasure. You lifted your head, rushing to bury your face in his chest and wrapping your arms around his neck. You try lifting your hips then humping back down creating a perfect rhythm for the both of you, your climax nearly settling over you like the thin sheen of sweat that covered you both. He grips both your hands that fall down to his chest in only one of his, looping some of his fingers with yours- thrusting up into you drawing out your orgasm. He was close behind, and he couldn’t help himself much longer, and the way you pulsed- unbearably warm and tight around him- the way you moaned his name with your head thrown back in pure bliss was enough to push him over the edge.

“You feeling better yet, huh?” 

His gravelly voice rolls pleasure over your body, “I’ll fill your greedy little cunt until you're satisfied.” He lets go of your hands and reaches an arm down your stomach until his fingertips find your clit. His touch is electric, sending sparks up your spine,  and you arch against him with a desperate whine. He circles his thick fingers over your swollen bundle of nerves — his cock still bullying itself against your cervix in a pace that tomorrow you will remember. You try propping yourself on your arms in a pathetic effort to either feel closer to his face or catch a glimpse of his length vanishing inside of you over and over.

He grunts, pulling his hips back, and you reel when he drives into you again. Your arms finally give, and you collapse onto the lounge beneath you, tits just barely bouncing with his movements. He continues the quick circling of his fingers over your clit and the fast thrusts of his hips against your ass until you’re crying again. Making the arm that's been bracing him instantly falter to cup your face. He bends himself almost uncomfortably to cradle his face against yours while still pleasuring you.

“Come on, baby, come for me… come with me.” His lips are right by your ear as his hands are falling to your hips, forcing you to grind down against him exactly where he wants you.

He only shoves into you one more time, and your hands are wrapping around his wrists- squeezing him righter then your cunt was, and your eyes roll back into your head as your orgasm bursts through you like falling stars, burning up until there’s nothing but his wild groan in your ear and the wet spasm of your cunt. It shakes though you so badly you finally sink your teeth back into him for the first time tonight. An almost harsh bite in the meat of his shoulder that has him reeling into you.

“Good — fuck- good girl,” he groans, his grip on you turning to immobile stone as his trust shallow before he goes rigid, spilling into you.

He lets out a string of unfocused curses and then a gentle mumble of your name, sweeping your hair off your neck so he can press a kiss to your soft, sweaty skin. 

At this point, your malleable body is exhausted, pleased, and shuddering as the last waves of your release dissipate from your nerves. He pulls out of you with a groan, reluctantly removing himself from his comfort between your legs. 

You can feel it immediately — the warmth of his cum as it follows his retreating cock, dripping out of your spent pussy and uncomfortably pooling down to the valley of your tail. He can’t help but stare. He’s marked you with himself inside and out — it makes his own tired cock twitch with renewed arousal. 

“Eywa, pretty girl…” he trails off, eyeing the sight before him.

Bringing his hand to the bottom of your asscheek so he can spread you open to get a better look. Your lapis skin burns at the obscenity of it — of him admiring the mess he’s made of you. You want to hide your face, turning away from him and pressing your cheek into the back of the seat so he can’t see you fluster. 

His fingers ghost over your puffy, fucked out folds, and you gasp, clenching at the overstimulation, causing more of his seed to trickle out of your fluttering hole. He collects the creamy white on his fingertips and smears it over your cunt before easing his fingers inside again. 

“Are you not done?” You whimper and writhe as he pulls them out — coated with a mixture of him and you.

He brings those fingers to his tongue and licks them clean with a satisfied growl. It’s vulgar and makes you gasp in shock until you remember this is Lo’ak, and he is shameless. 

He has a lopsided smile as the same fingers he just licked clean quickly drop down with a quick “plap” of a half-hearted smack to your swollen fold and clit, gathering a new glob of both of your fluids. You look towards him, betrayed-

“Payback for all the torture you put me through,” he explains, extending his long arm towards your mouth for you to lick clean, and he beams that even without tsaheylu, you know exactly what he wants from you. Despite how tired you look, his digits are cleaned as quickly as he offers you them.

All he can really do is gaze at you in adoration before dropping his face back down between your legs. You tremble in anticipation and melt into him as his nose bumps your clit, and he licks himself off you while the sun finally begins to rise against the horizon. 

💜Bo Sinclair

You just finished doing the dishes, when you heard a knock at the door. Unsure it was one of the boys, you scooted from your comfy couch spot and opened the door.

To your surprise, it was not one of the boys—and much to the unexpected visitor's surprise, someone opened the damned door.

“Please, you have to help me.” The man begged in front of you, big sloppy tears pouring from his eyes.

You paused and looked at the male in front of you before raising a brow. You knew what was up, but you never had to deal with the victims before, especially now that you’re over a month pregnant—Bo really doesn’t want you talking or handling them.

“They’re going to get me,” He choke and sobbed, “I need your help.”

Unsure of what to do, you stood there for a few seconds longer, thinking of what the safest option was, but also one that wouldn’t put the boys in danger.

Over the surprise visitor's shoulder, you could see Bo approaching, and he was just a few buildings away—while staring at Bo, and trying to decide your option, the visitor turned around to catch what you were looking at and met Bo’s now rage-filled demeanor.

Quickly, he shoved you to the floor, hopping over you; only stepping on your arm. The minute Bo reached you, he gently helped you up and cupped your cheek. He then pressed a small kiss to your nose and asked you to go to your guy’s shared bedroom.

You could hear each sloshing stabbing sound and the man’s blood-curdling screams almost all night before Bo accompanied you in bed.

🩷Vincent Sinclair

You happily made your way towards the Wax Museum, a plate of food in your hand for your beloved since you know Vincent most likely hasn’t eaten yet.

Once you got to the entrance of the museum, much to your startle, the door was already open. And to make matters worse, you hear two voices giggling.

You stood still beside the entrance, your free hand holding where your womb is, pausing to think of your best option for safety for you and the growing baby. Vincent must've known of their presence, so it's only a matter of time now. Once their whispering died down, you snuck inside the building, peeking around each corner and listening to make sure nobody could see or hear you. You turned a corner too quick in your need to get to Vincent, that you bumped your hip on a nearby table, almost causing you to drop your plate. "Shit," You silently muttered, panicking slightly from your slight bump. "What was that?" A man asked just faint enough for you to hear, causing your panic to rise more. "Maybe it's the dog from earlier?" A woman responded questioningly. As if on cue, Vincent sneaks around the corner and places a comforting hand on your shoulder, while also signaling you to shush before pointing in the direction of where the intruders. He quickly puts his hand over his mask's mouth, then presses it softly to where your baby bump's growing like a little kiss. And from there, he went to take care of the two.

💜Lester Sinclair

You were riding in the truck with Lester, as he went to run errands when a stranger waved you guys down alongside the road.

“Hey! Hi—sorry to bother you guys,” The stranger stumbled nervously, “Something happened and we really need to get to our friends, would one of us be able to catch a ride to the nearest town?”

You and Lester exchanged unsure glances, but Lester agreed nonetheless. You scooted to the middle seat closer Lester, giving him one last worried glance before patting the seat for the stranger.

The three of you rode in an uncomfortable silence, occasionally making some small talk about the small town of Ambrose, and how the two of you like it.

“Ain’t too bad,” Lester spoke up, “Pretty quiet. Everyone minds their own business for the most part.”

The strangers phone started to ring, and they quickly apologized and answered, stiffening in statue after what seemed 10 seconds. They nervously side eyed Lester and you a few times, while giving verbal acknowledgments over the phone.

“Excuse me—can you stop the car?” They asked, feigning a polite exterior, their jaw quivering and the right hand upon the door handle shook nervously.

“Mhm,” Lester slowed to a stop, but before the old beat up truck could even get to a halt, the stranger opened the door, and grabbed you, pulling the both of you out of the car, leaving only Lester in the drivers seat.

“Stay back, freak! Or—or else!” The stranger shoved you to the ground, then pointing a finger to Lester, to prove a point to him that they’re not above violence.

You tried to crawl away, but the stranger had other plans.

“Get back here, bitch,” The strangers focus was too engrossed into you, they didn’t notice Lester hop out of the truck, “I heard what you did to my friends!”

The stranger went to reach for you, but was stopped by Lester pulling them back and punching perpetrator in the throat.

“Hell is wrong with you hitting a pregnant person,” Lester’s punches did not ease up until the strangers face looked like a bloody pulp.

Once he finished, he walked over to where you stood yourself up, and pulled you in for a hug, and pressed a kiss to your forehead and knelt down to press a kiss to your tummy.

“Y’okay, sugar?” He grasped your hand, and walked you to the truck and helped you sit down comfortably.

🩷Thomas Hewitt

You and Luda sat in the kitchen knitting things for the baby that’s on the way.

“Y/N, would you be a dear and check on the pie?” Luda politely inquired.

“Of course!” You opened the oven to check, but the pie wasn’t fully done, so you reset the timer for about 5 minutes.

You took your seat back, and continued knitting your baby blanket. Luda stood up, and started cleaning the counters and washing the dishes used to make the cherry pie.

Faint scrambling and screaming could be heard coming from the basement, but you just turned on the small radio and continuing knitting zigzags into the blankets design.

Until someone managed to scramble their way to the first floor, scrambling through the living room, and then the kitchen.

“You two! Hey! You have to help me!” The man pleaded, “He’s trying to kill me down there!”

The man pointed down in the basement, and Luda looked at him unimpressed. She was sneaking her way to find something to hit the person with without being detected, but the man grabbed onto your hand and tried pulling you with him.

“Please! You have to listen to me; he’s going to kill me—then he’s going to kill you too!” He sobbed, ripping you from your chair at the small table.

“I—” You didn’t get a chance to respond or call for help before the man pulled you outside and down the wooden steps.

“Tommy!” You hear Luda Mae call out, “They’re trying to take Y/N!”

About two minutes later, Thomas ran through the door, his chainsaw rumbling with a seething rage. Within a minute, your captor was mowed down by Thomas, who then dropped the (now off) chainsaw, and spun you in the air with his embrace, pressing his forehead to yours.

That night, Thomas made you a warm bath and you enjoyed a cool cup of sweet tea while you got to munch on the pie you and Luda made from earlier.

💜Brahms Heelshire

It was a cool Sunday afternoon, and you were waiting for Malcolm to bring groceries to the house for you and Brahms—who was hiding upstairs, waiting for your okay to come out.

You sat in the living room, sipping on your favorite hot beverage while rereading a book you started, but haven’t finished.

Faint knocking could be heard from the front door, so you placed your book and drink down, and peeled through the door.

Malcom finally arrived; which means Brahms can come out soon!

“Afternoon, Malcolm!” You gave a small smile with your greeting, which dropped when you saw the man who delivers Brahms and your groceries arrived empty handed.

“Malcolm wh—” You were cut off by his quick ramblings.

“Y/N, you have to get out of here,” He quickly blurted out, “Brahms is alive; he-he’s been living in the walls!”

Mentally, you rolled your eyes. You knew this, obviously—he is your partner after all.

“What do you mean?” You faked concern, even though you had a feeling you knew how this would end.

The grocery boy would enter, prohibited to leave; his fate sealed past the front door.

“Brahms—I SAW him, Y/N.” He huffed, pacing in a nervous circle.

“I think you’re just seeing things, Malcolm. I live here, don’t you think I’d know if he’s here? Wouldn’t I have seen or heard him?” You retorted, raising an eyebrow, trying your best to gaslight him into leaving you and Brahms alone.

He grasped your hand, “If you refuse to believe it, I have no choice. We’re getting out of here and somewhere safe.”

Little did he know, Brahms was watching the whole interaction. And boy is he pissed.

He snuck out through one of the walls, and approached Malcolm from behind.

“Y/N,” He whined, walking towards where Malcom had a grip on your wrist, “Don’t go.”

“Get him Brahms!” You cried, ripping your arm away from Malcolm and backing away.

Brahms quickly gripped Malcolm’s neck, squeezing so hard his poor face turned a blueish purple from the lack of oxygen due to Brahms’ rage.

As soon as Malcom’s body felt limp, Brahms ran towards your slightly nervous form, nuzzling his masked face into your neck, whimpering softly while rubbing your belly.

🩷Poly! Ghostface

You laid sprawled out upon the bed that the three of you shared, watching nostalgic horror movies. Your phone wasn’t too far from your reach due to the boys needing a ride later.

As if on cue, said device started ringing with Stu’s ringtone.

“Hey, babe!” You perked up, “You need me to come scoop you guys up?”

“Mhm-ow!” The sound of slapping could be heard on your end, and Stu groaned over the phone.

“Hi cutie,” Billy snatched the phone from Stu, “Seems nobody’s here. Can you come get us now?”

“Absolutely!” You beamed before hanging up, running to your car, and starting it.

Once you got to the location they sent you, you pulled into the driveway, turned your lights off, and parked the car.

With few lights lit in the house, you could only make out one figure running around in the dark rather than two. Nonetheless, you brushed it off due to how dim the house was, and you turned your music back up, rubbing your hand over the slight bump.

The figure snuck out of the house, and knocked on the window of the car.

“Are you their ride, bitch?” She sneered, “I overheard those fuck-faces on the phone talking about a ride.”

You tried to lock the doors, which you left unlocked for the boys, but the assailant was faster to open the door. She tried to rip you out of the car as you covered yourself up for defense, both not realizing the seatbelt was on.

“Billy!” You screamed out, “Stu, help please!”

The stranger retracted their fist to hit you, but was pulled back by Billy’s grip, before he plunged a knife into her. She glared at you as she tried to hit Stu who blocked her path, gladly taking a turn stabbing her in the ribs.