For I Have Sinned 𓂃⋆.˚ ao'nung x sully!reader
𓂃⋆.˚ synopsis: part two of Eywa, Forgive Me
𓂃⋆.˚ content warnings: aged up characters, NSFW (MDNI), pervy ao'nung, innocent reader, fem!reader, explicit & pervy thoughts, secret courting, kissing, hickeys, thigh job, risk of being caught
𓂃⋆.˚ word count: 2.8k
𓂃⋆.˚ author's note: based on this request!! i accidentally made ao'nung a dirty freak. i'm sorry. forgive me.
The weeks following that first breathing lesson had been a slow-motion descent into madness for Aonung.
He had become a master of the double life, playing the part of the dutiful son and patient mentor while his internal world became a shrine to your existence. He watched you develop that tiny, heart-breakingly innocent crush, seeing the way your ears would perk up when he arrived or how you’d linger just a second too long when he handed you a spear.
It was a sweet, fragile thing, and a part of him felt like a monster for wanting to crush it under the weight of his own depravity. He was a gentleman in public, a stoic protector when your brothers were watching—which was always—but in the dark hours of the night, he was a man possessed. He had seen the way his parents looked at him, the silent questions in his father’s eyes and the sharp, knowing narrowed lids of his mother, but he had kept his mask perfectly in place. Even when you had surprised him with that chaste, soft kiss on the cheek, a gesture so pure it nearly caused his heart to stop, he had simply smiled and walked away, even though every cell in his body was screaming at him to turn back and ruin you right there in the dirt.
I still feel the ghost of her lips on my cheek, a brand of fire that hasn't gone out in days. It’s not enough. It will never be enough. I want to feel that heat everywhere. I want to see if the blue of her skin deepens when I bite her. I want to know if she tastes like the sea-nectar she picks or something saltier.
Tonight, the village of Awa'atlu was a riot of sound and color, the festival drums thrumming a rhythm that matched the frantic beat of Aonung’s pulse. The scent of roasted fish and fermented fruit filled the air, but the only thing he could focus on was the way you looked in the firelight.
Your brothers had been relentless, their voices a constant, mocking drone about "fish-lips" and "the sea-prince," and he had watched the irritation boil over in the set of your jaw. When you finally reached out and grabbed his hand, your fingers cool against his feverish skin, he felt a jolt of static that nearly brought him to his knees. You didn't say a word, just pulled him into the shadows of the mangroves, your eyes sparking with a mischievous, defiant energy he hadn't seen before. He followed you blindly, his large hand enveloping yours, leading you toward the one place he knew they wouldn't find you—a hidden, jagged cove tucked behind a curtain of weeping vines and bioluminescent moss.
The way she grabbed me—so sure. I could have picked her up right then and carried her into the deep. My hand feels huge around hers, a reminder of how easily I could pin her down. She’s annoyed with them, but she’s running to me. If Neteyam saw us now, he’d kill me, but I’d go to Eywa with the memory of her palm against mine and I wouldn’t regret a single second of it.
The grotto opened up like a secret cathedral of stone and light. The sound of the festival was a distant, muffled echo, replaced by the gentle, rhythmic sigh of the tide against the cave walls. You let out a soft, audible gasp, your hand slipping from his as you wandered toward the center of the space, your eyes wide with awe. The moonlight filtered through a crack in the ceiling, illuminating the iridescent dots on your shoulders and the curve of your long, graceful neck. You looked around like you were seeing a miracle, and when you finally turned back to him, your expression was so full of genuine, raw affection that Aonung felt the last of his self-control snap like a dry reed.
She looks like a spirit in this light, something too beautiful for a wretch like me to touch. But she brought me here. She invited the ocean in. I want to see those eyes glaze over. I want to see the exact moment she realizes she’s not in the forest anymore. I want to hear my name shattered in her throat.
"Thank you for bringing me here, Aonung," you whispered, your voice a melodic chime in the stillness. You stepped back into his space, your toes brushing his, your head tilting back so you could look him in the eye. "It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen." You took a shaky breath, your hands coming up to rest on his broad chest, the heat of your palms seeping through his skin. "And I... I really wanted to do this properly."
Before he could speak, you went up on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his. It was meant to be a simple kiss, a chaste confirmation of the crush you’d been nursing, but for Aonung, it was the spark in a powder keg.
He didn't let it be quick.
His hands shot up to cup your face, his fingers splaying across your jawline with a possessive, crushing intensity. He crashed his mouth onto yours with a heavy, demanding pressure that forced your lips apart, his tongue surging forward to claim the space you had so innocently offered. It was a sliding collision of salt and sweetness, a desperate exploration that left you gasping into his mouth. He tasted the shock in you, the way your body jolted against his, but he didn't pull back. Instead, he groaned—a low sound that vibrated from his chest into yours—and angled your head further back, deepening the kiss until your knees felt like they were made of water.
Finally. The taste of her is addicting. She’s so soft, so inexperienced, but she’s trying to keep up. I want to drink the very air from her lungs. I could hold her like this forever, just devouring her, feeling the way she shudders every time I moan into her mouth.
The kiss went on for what felt like an eternity, a feverish blur. You were clutching at his shoulders now, your fingers digging into the hard muscle there as you tried to stay upright. Every time you tried to mimic the rhythm of his mouth, he felt a fresh wave of arousal crash over him.
He moved his hands from your face, one sliding down to the small of your back to arch you against him, the other tangling into your dark, forest-scented hair to keep you locked in place. He was relentless, his lips bruising yours, his tongue tracing the roof of your mouth with a focused hunger. He wanted to memorize the texture of you, the way you tasted, the way you sounded when you let out those tiny, broken whimpers that were half-shock and half-pleasure.
She’s melting. I can feel it. Her heart is hammering against my ribs like a ikran trying to escape. I don't want it to escape. I want to cage it. I want to feel the exact moment she gives up and just lets me take whatever I want. I bet she has no idea how much I want to flip her around and see if she’s this soft everywhere.
Aonung slowly began to walk you backward, his lips never leaving yours as he maneuvered you toward the jagged stone wall of the grotto. When your back finally hit the cool, damp surface, you let out a sharp huff of air, but your arms only tightened around his neck. He broke the kiss just enough to breathe, a thin, glistening string of saliva connecting your swollen lips in the light. You were beaming at him, your eyes glazed and bright, your chest heaving in a way that made his vision swim.
"Aonung," you breathed, a tiny, happy laugh escaping you. "I like you. I like you lots."
He let out a laugh of his own, his forehead leaning against yours as he tried to stabilize his breathing.
"I like you too, forest girl," he whispered, the lie tasting like ash in his mouth because 'like' was a word for children, and what he felt for you was something far more ancient and dangerous.
She likes me. She’s so sweet it makes my teeth ache. She thinks this is a game, a little festival romance. She has no clue that I’m currently imagining her pinned under me on the floor of this cave, her legs wrapped around my waist while I show her exactly how 'lots' I like her.
He didn't give you time to think. He dipped his head again, but this time his target wasn't your lips. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his nose inhaling the scent of you. He began to press heavy, wet kisses along the sensitive line of your throat, his tongue swiping against your pulse point. He felt the vibration of your voice as you let out a high, airy moan that echoed off the cave walls.
"Aonung? What... what are you doing?" you asked, your voice hitching as you arched your back, your small hands fluttering uselessly against his chest.
He didn't answer. He couldn't.
His mind was gone, replaced by the white noise of desire. He slid his hands down to your hips, his large fingers digging into the flesh there, and pulled you firmly against the hard, aching length of his body. He began to grind his hips against yours in a slow motion, the friction of your loincloths the only thing between him and the skin he so desperately craved. You let out another moan, louder this time, your head falling back against the stone as you felt the unfamiliar pressure of him between your thighs.
Aonung's lips found the skin over your jugular. He latched on, his teeth grazing the surface before his lips created a firm, demanding seal. He began to suck, the sensation of your soft flesh being pulled into his mouth sending a jolt of pure fire directly to his cock. You let out a high-pitched squeal that was half-shock and half-giggle, your hands flying up to grip the hard, woven edges of his chest guard.
She’s squealing. Like a little forest bird. I can feel her pulse jumping against my tongue, terrified and excited all at once. I want to leave a mark so dark it looks like a bruise from the deep sea. I want everyone to see it and know that I was here, that I tasted her, that I own the very air she breathes.
He pulled back just enough to see the darkened, purplish patch of skin he’d claimed, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. You were breathless, your eyes wide and shimmering with an adoration so pure it made him feel like he was burning from the inside out. He teased the edge of the mark with his thumb, watching the way you shivered.
"I want to try something," he whispered, his voice a low-frequency vibration that seemed to rumble through the stone wall behind you. "Something that will feel even better. Do you trust me?"
"Of course," you breathed, your voice barely a thread of sound. You reached up, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw, your touch so light it made his skin crawl with need. "I trust you with everything."
Aonung’s heart hammered a frantic rhythm—a tribal drum in the silence of the grotto. He gave you a quick kiss, his lips bruising yours one last time before he stepped back just a fraction. His hands moved with a sudden, focused intensity to the front of his loincloth. With a sharp tug, he pulled his length out into the cool, damp air of the cove. You looked down, your eyes widening, a small gasp escaping your lips as you took in the sight of him—the thick, heavy weight of his cock, the deep cerulean hue of the skin, and the way the veins pulsed with a life of their own.
"Oh," you whispered, your face flushing a deep, embarrassed purple. "I... I didn't know men's things looked like that."
Aonung let out a short, fractured laugh, the sound echoing off the glowing algae. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he gently moved the soft fabric of your loincloth aside, exposing the delicate entrance of your cunt.
You scrunched your eyes shut, your breath hitching in a series of sharp, shallow stutters. You looked like you were waiting for a blow, but instead, you felt him press the broad, blunt head of his length against you. He didn't enter; he simply pressed himself against your slickness, the friction of skin on skin sending a violent shock of pleasure through both of your bodies.
She’s so small. Eywa, she’s so tight and warm. Just the touch of her makes me want to bust. I can feel her heart jumping in her chest, and I’m barely touching her. I want to slide inside and never come out. I want to feel her walls clenching around me until I forget my own name.
You let out a choked, broken moan of surprise, your fingers digging into the hard muscle of his forearms as you looked down at the point where you joined. "Aonung... what... what are you doing?" you gasped, your hips instinctively rolling forward to meet his pressure. "It feels... it feels really, really good."
Aonung couldn't answer.
The words were trapped in a throat that felt like it was lined with hot lead. He was too lost in the sheer, overwhelming sensation of your pussy, the way your natural lubrication was acting as a balm against his aching skin. He began to move, a rutting motion that pressed him deep into the folds of your thighs without ever breaching the final barrier.
A pathetic, high-pitched whimper escaped his throat, a sound he would have been ashamed of if he weren't currently seeing stars. He buried his face in the crook of your neck again, his forehead resting against the stone as he moved his hips with increasing desperation. He was panting, his breath coming in ragged, sobbing hitches that felt like they were being torn from his lungs. Every time his pelvis crashed against yours, you let out a soft moan that only pushed him further over the edge.
He was a daze of blue and shadow, his mind reduced to the sensation of your soft thighs squeezing him and the way your hands were now frantically raking down his back. He felt like he was drowning in the shallows, the pleasure building into a sharp peak that he couldn't escape. His moans turned into broken cries as he felt the pressure in his loins reach the breaking point.
With one final thrust against your folds, his body stiffened, and he let out a long, shattered groan as he came on you, the warm, thick fluid spluttering against your stomach and thighs.
You let out a tiny, surprised squeal, your body trembling in the aftermath of the sensation, your legs feeling like they were made of smoke. Aonung slumped against you, his head heavy on your shoulder, his chest heaving as he fought for air.
"That... that felt really, really good," you whispered into his ear, your voice thick with a post-orgasmic haze. You reached down, your fingers tentatively brushing his softening length, your touch making his skin twitch. "I liked the way you made those noises. You sounded like you were... in pain? But the good kind?"
Aonung let out a shaky, wet breath, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He was about to speak, about to tell you that he would do anything to hear those sounds from you again, when a voice cut through the damp silence of the grotto like a serrated blade.
"Sis? You in there?"
It was Lo’ak. His voice was close—terrifyingly close—just on the other side of the weeping vines that hid the entrance. The sound of his footsteps on the wet sand was unmistakable, heavy and impatient.
Aonung froze, his heart stopping in his chest. He was still exposed, still slick with his own release, and you were pinned against the wall with your loincloth askew and your eyes glazed with the evidence of what you’d just done. If Lo’ak stepped through those vines…
Aonung didn’t care though.
His lips curled into a dark, triumphant smile that defied the impending violence. He didn't hide the mess on your skin or the way his hand still possessively gripped your hip; he simply watched the entrance, his eyes gleaming with the arrogant joy of a man who had already stolen the forest’s greatest treasure.
I have sinned against every law of my people, and I would do it again until the ocean runs dry.
As Lo’ak’s shadow fell across the grotto, Aonung felt only a pulsing, unrepentant greed. He had tasted your innocence, left his mark on your throat, and he would gladly face a thousand deaths just to feel your body melt against his for one more heartbeat.
i'm sorry for what i have done to you ao'nung.
















