First time mating with Aonung
WC. 5.1k
{ planning to rewrite }
The word drags lazily from Aonung’s mouth as he leans against the doorframe, waiting.
“Come on,” he calls, his voice thick with easy impatience, a teasing roughness curling around the syllables.
Inside, you’re pacing back and forth, fingers carefully adjusting the shells into your hair.
Your eyes keep darting over the corners of your home — shelves, mats, baskets — searching for something you know should be right there. The gift he gave you. The small, ocean polished shell you swore you’d never lose.
It’s already mortifying enough, but admitting it to him?
Impossible.
“Give me a second,” you mutter, frustration tightening at the corners of your mouth.
You shuffle through blankets and under woven covers, sighing low under your breath.
From the doorway, Aonung just watches, his familiar crooked smile spreading a little wider, amusement in his blue eyes.
“What are you even looking for?” he teases, voice bubbling with laughter.
“Nothing—just one second.” You huff, the words half-mumbled as you keep searching. The sound of your movement fills the quiet, soft rustles against the calm air.
He lifts his chin slightly, watching the way you bend to peer under tables, the light shifting across your skin and the edges of your hair.
Finally, you snatch up the small pouch resting near your bed — the one where you keep your shells — and make your way toward him.
You don’t quite meet his eye, gaze fixed somewhere on the floor. “Hold this. I’m sorry, just—just a few more minutes, please.”
But before you can pull away, his fingers curl gently around your wrist. His grip is steady but soft enough that you feel warmth rather than restraint.
His smile doesn’t waver
if anything, it deepens, carved in amusement.
The tattoos along his arms and face catch the faint light, their dark lines seeming sharper, bolder today.
Your breath stills as your gaze finally meets his. His eyes slide down, slow, lingering on your lips before finding your eyes again. His other hand lifts, fingertips brushing through your hair. You feel the careful movement before sensing a faint pressure as he slides something into place. Something familiar.
Your heart stutters.
Your hand flies up instinctively, fingertips grazing over the small, curved shell now clipped just behind your ear.
It’s the one he carved for you — the one he gave you when he first asked you to be his. The one you swore you’d never misplace. Shame floods your face, heat rising to your cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur, eyes dipping down again.
He catches your chin between his fingers, coaxing your face gently back toward his. “Hey,” he says, voice softer now — calm, forgiving. “It’s okay.”
His hand traces down from your face to your hips, pulling you a little closer until your bodies nearly touch. Then he leans in, his breath grazing your ear, and whispers, “You left it on the rock after our dive last night.” The warmth in his tone is paired with a quiet laugh that rumbles low in his chest.
You open your mouth to protest, but his hands tighten around your wrists like he already knows you’re about to scold him.
“I wanted to see how long it would take you to realize it was gone,” he admits, laughter hiding in the curve of his smile.
Your hands twitch under his grip, but the strength difference was clear; part of you wants to be annoyed, but even that melts under how much fun he’s clearly having. “Alright, alright… you got me.”
“Tell me I’m the best boyfriend,” he says, straightening proudly, eyes gleaming with mock arrogance.
“You’re pushing it,” you retort, smirking up at him through your lashes.
He gasps playfully, hand flying to his chest in exaggerated shock. “Oh? So I’m a bad boyfriend now?”
“Hmmm, maybe,” you tease back, grinning.
Aonung leans closer, his eyes wide in mock offense. “Then a bad boyfriend would do... this.”
His hands dart to your stomach, fingers grazing lightly until you burst out laughing. You twist, trying to swat him away, but he only comes back stronger, laughter mixing with yours as he pins you gently by the waist.
He dips his mouth near your ear, breath warm. Before you can anticipate it, he exhales sharply, sending a ticklish rush through you. You squeal, laughing harder while pushing at his chest. “Aonung!”
He only grins wider, tightening his hold on your waist.
The playful air grows heavier.
His hands slow, sliding from your sides to the small of your back. His breath still ghosts along your ear, but every exhale feels different now
You glance up at him, face flushed, and that’s when your foot catches the loose cover on the floor.
You tumble backward with a startled yelp, the world tipping for a split second before you hit the woven mat.
Aonung crashes down right after, an awkward, half panicked laugh slipping from both of you. His knee lands between your legs; your hands press against his chest, trying to steady yourself as he keeps holding your shoulders, hair falling messily over his face.
“The world knows how to read a room,” he chuckles breathlessly, tickling your sides once more. You kick at him between fits of laughter, both of you twisting and squirming across the floor.
Your fingers catch his hand, holding it still against your stomach.
The laughter fades.
He watches you — really looks at you this time — the amusement in his eyes softening into something heavier, quieter.
“What?” you ask, your smile faltering a little.
He smiles — small, slow, tender. “Just... looking at how pretty you are.”
Your heart flutters roughly in your chest, butterflies flooding your stomach before you can even respond. He dips down, pressing a light kiss to your cheek, lingering there for a heartbeat before leaning back to meet your eyes again.
You can only smile, caught in the mess of warmth and shyness that washes over you.
He tilts his head, lips still close enough that you feel the brush of his whisper. “Since I’m a bad boyfriend, I should be able to do this.”
The words hum low against your skin as he trails kisses down your neck, his hand finding your waist again and drawing slow circles there.
The gentle rhythm of his lips makes your breath stutter
Your quiet moan slips out almost accidentally, eyebrows pinched slightly.
His lips wander upward, kissing along your jawline until your lips meet in a soft, patient kiss.
Familiar, yet somehow different in the way it hums through your chest.
“Am I naughty?” he murmurs, hovering just above your lips, eyes locked on yours.
You nod without speaking.
He chuckles, low and amused. “Then, since I’m so naughty, I can do this...”
His mouth trails lower again, slow kisses dotting down your neck, your chest, each one careful. His hands slide down your thighs, coaxing a twitch from you as he pulls back, smiling against your skin.
“Are you naughty?” he asks, positioning himself between your legs, his tone catching somewhere between teasing and serious.
You nod again, quieter this time.
“I’m gonna need to hear you,” he urges, voice dipped in that soft command that always makes your pulse stumble.
“Yes,” you whisper, barely audible. “I’m naughty.”
It pulls a genuine laugh from him — warm and unhurried, not mocking. He shakes his head slightly, grinning. “You’re too cute.”
Then he leans down, mouth pressing softly over your breast, breath fanning across your skin.
“Then if we’re so naughty,” he mutters, voice low and smirky, as his head dips back to your chest—eyes locking on yours, daring you to say no.
His lips slide over to the side of your breasts, kissing slow and letting his mouth sink into your soft flesh before pulling back just enough to watch your breasts bounce a little.
Your breath catches sharp, back arching up into him as this new feeling shoots through you both
He moves to the edge of your breasts that's peeking out next, mouthing at it lazy and warm, and that small jiggle when he lets go pulls a half moan right out of your throat.
Your hand flies up to cover your mouth fast, fingers shaking as you press down, face burning hot 'cause fuck, he's really doing this to you right now.
A smug little chuckle vibrates against your skin—he's grinning against you, totally eating up how you're falling apart, and it makes him push bolder.
“Can I… move your top?” he whispers, voice rough, breath hot on your skin, thumb rubbing your side like he’s holding himself back hard, just waiting for you to say yes.
“Yeah,” you mumble, voice all messed up, and he tugs the top aside super careful.
Your nipple pops out, still damp from the swim from earlier with a purple tint, hardening right up under his stare.
His tongue flicks out light at first, circling slow like he’s testing it, then flattens wet and warm over it. Your body jerks a bit, eyes popping open wide.
You push up on your elbows without thinking, looking down to catch his intense eyes—so close, lips already shiny.
Then his mouth closes over your whole tit, sucking steady and kinda deep, those wet popping sounds loud as fuck but whatever. His hand grips your waist tight, holding you in place as your head throws back, hair flying everywhere, a whine slipping out before you lurch forward and bite your lip hard to kill the rest, hips bucking up a little on reflex.
His mouth keeps working you steady, sucking a little deeper now, tongue swirling hot and nonstop around your nipple till it's throbbing hard under the pull.
Each drag of his lips sinks right into that plush give, your tit jiggling faint every time he pulls back quick for air before diving straight in again.
He groans low right against your skin, the sound buzzing straight down to your core, his eyes flicking up to catch yours all hazy and stuck, like he's totally lost in how you feel and taste.
His hand slides up from your waist, cupping the underside firm but gentle, thumb brushing over the curve as he tilts his head—taking you even deeper, cheeks hollowing out on the suck, wet heat hitting every nerve.
Your breath stutters out wild, fingers twisting hard in the sheets 'cause his rhythm's stirring up something intense low in your gut.
His free hand digs into your hip, pulling you closer like he can't get enough of how your body arches into his mouth, both of you chasing that edge.
Then, just as your breathing changes, a voice slices through the quiet.
“What is going on here?”
Your mother’s voice freezes both of you in place. She’s standing at the entrance, a basket of fruit in her hands, eyes wide with disbelief.
Aonung is up in less than a second. You scramble right after him, tugging your top back into place, eyes fixed anywhere but at her.
“One day,” she starts, voice sharp. “One *day* — all you had to do was wait one more day to have the home to yourselves” Her tone teeters between frustration and disbelief, glancing between the two of you.
“At the front of your home! Anyone could have walked by and seen—” She cuts herself off, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Then a short laugh slips out. “You two are going to be a handful.”
You both stare at the ground, cheeks burning.
“Go.”
She turns to leave but pauses halfway. “Oh, and for Eywa’s sake — try not to have sex where everyone can see you.”
You both stand frozen until she’s fully gone, then glance at each other — and the moment breaks. Laughter bursts free, sudden and unstoppable.
You take off running toward the beach, still laughing over your shoulder.
“That was *so* embarrassing,” you yell, laughter tangled with disbelief.
“I know! I can’t believe we did that,” Aonung calls, chasing after you.
He catches up easily, scooping you up in his arms without breaking stride.
“Aonung!” you squeal, half laughing, half breathless.
And he just grins at you — the same grin that’s been written across his face since the moment he saw you.
-
Your feet hit the sand hard, kicking up wet grit as you sprint toward the treeline, laughter spilling loud and messy. Ocean water slicks down your legs, soaking your loincloth tight against your thighs.
Aonung's heavy steps thud close behind—his chuckle deep and easy, like he savors the chase more than the win.
His arms snag your waist sudden, yanking you back into his solid chest with a thump.
"Gotcha," he murmurs right by your ear, lips grazing the edge. You twist, giggling, but Aonung's hold stays firm—not rough, just unyielding.
He pushes his nose into your hair, shoving it aside clumsy.
His kisses land on your ear—soft pecks first, then a slow drag of teeth that pulls a shiver down your spine.
Aonung's palms flatten over your stomach, tugging you flush against him. His heartbeat thumps steady at your back.
His lips shift to your neck, sucking light over your pulse.
You tip your head sideways without thinking, giving him room. Your breath hitches; your thighs rub together once.
Aonung turns you around slow, his hands sliding up your arms to cup your face. His mouth crashes into yours—hungry but easy, lips parting with a shared sigh tasting salt.
Your tongues touch testy, then deeper; your fingers curl into his shoulders.
You stumble back together, tripping over a root—Aonung's arm bands your waist tight, keeping you upright while his other hand fists your curls light, tilting your head for a better angle.
Your lips barely split for air, a quick laugh bubbling from you before he dives back in.
Your back hits mangrove bark soft; both of you gasp into the kiss, foreheads knocking.
Aonung pulls away an inch, his blue eyes staring into yours.
His fingers brush your cheek slow. He tugs your queue free careful but slow, looking into your eyes, linking it with his. The bond snaps warm; your hearts sync fast in the buzz.
Aonung's hands trace your sides, his thumbs toying with shell edges at your hips, damp fabric clings.
He leans in for a deeper kiss, surer now. One palm cradles your neck, thumb under your ear stroking, while his other grabs your hip, pulling your bodies tight.
You feel his warmth, his cock thickening against your stomach through the cloth.
Pearls in your hair chime against his wrist every shift.
You weave your fingers into Aonung's curls, tugging harder; he groans mouth open into yours, his hips rocking once.
A laugh slips between kisses when he nips your lip then he licks the spot slow after.
Your leg hitches his thigh natural, grinding your core against his muscle. Your bodies sway light; the bond amps every rub.
Your kisses slow softer, breaths laughing quiet. "You're mine," Aonung mumbles against your lips, his thumb tracing your jaw.
You smile, yanking him down by his curls, your tongues slide wet.
His hand dips under your loincloth edge, palm rough on your bare thigh, inching up steady.
The bond shares his want clear, tangled with yours. Aonung braces his arm against the tree above your head, loose boxing you in.
His mouth trails your neck, sucking marks you'll check later. Small shifts knock laughs, sighs.
His lips drags your throat slow, suck harder on spots, nip enough for a needy sound from you.
Your nails dig into his shoulders; his hand slides thigh-high, fingertips dragging sensitive skin.
Aonung's knee nudges yours apart, bunching cloth hips up.
His fingers brush your folds gently.
He hovers, traces light till your hips jerk. "Aonung—" Your voice cuts breathy.
Laughter fades to moans; he catches your mouth messy, bark rough pressing your back.
His fingers part your folds proper, slow coating in slick.
Aonung finds your clit swollen, circles once to test.
Your body jolts; you gasp his name into the kiss.
He pauses, thumb stroking again. His low laugh rumbles through him. "Fuck. Soaked already." He drags fingers through your wet pussy. His thumbs clit form slow circles, his face twists, knees dipping.
Your breaths quicken; your thighs squeeze his hand, hips rolling into his palm.
Aonung tips your chin with his soft hand, kissing your cheek long.
"Dad said wet you first," he murmurs skin-close, chuckles shared. "Hurts less when..." He trails off nosing gentle; his thumb speeds and your legs shake harder, uour back arching against the tree.
“Can I?” His voice trembles, dropping low as his forehead rests on yours. His eyes search yours wide and uncertain; the bond hums with tension.
His fingers keep a steady rhythm over your clit. You nod quickly, breath catching. “Yeah. Please.”
Aonung shifts, gripping your thigh to spread you open.
His hips press close as he fumbles his waistband down—cloth dragging low until his cock springs free, thick and flushed. The head finds your slick folds, nudging slow at your entrance.
He pushes just the tip, testing, the stretch sharp and sudden. Your eyes pinch shut, hand pressing to his chest in a silent signal to slow.
“Okay?” Aonung freezes immediately, voice low and careful.
He doesn’t move, just rocks tiny in and out, easing you open. He kisses your cheek, feather-light. “Say stop, we stop.”
His thumb soothes lazy circles over your clit; calm pulses softly through your bond. With his other hand, he brushes your hair back, tucking a braid behind your ear.
The rocking deepens by degrees, wet easing, muscles loosening. Your hips start to roll with his, matching the rhythm of his thumb as it grounds you.
“I want” Aonung murmurs against your skin. “kids”
The bond flashes an image—laughter, tiny hands, sand and sea. Your chest aches, warm and full.
You relax your palm against his heart, no longer holding him back. He sinks deeper, bit by bit, your body learning his shape.
Aonung watches the flickers in your face, stopping when your muscles tense.
He only moves again when they flutter open, waiting for your cues. Pain melts into heat as your hips start to meet his shaky thrusts.
“You’re doing good ,” he breathes, kissing your cheek.
His thumb works slow, pulsing warmth through you. One hand skims down your chest; you nod weakly.
He slides in further, careful and measured. Breath tangles between you, his low groan, your gasp. Foreheads touch. His thighs squeeze as he finds a rhythm, waist rolling in smooth, shallow drives.
“Oh~,” he exhales, voice breaking loose. He half-stops to kiss you—nose, lips, cheek—before the bond hits heavy, flooding you both.
Your lashes flutter damp; pain fades to pleasure, liquid and full. Your nails trail his arm light; you nod again when he presses deeper.
When he’s finally flush-seated inside, your gasps sync with his breath. Kisses turn slow and open-mouthed, tongues brushing soft.
His small rolls hit deeper spots, each shift building warmth until your body starts to tremble.
His breath spills hot down your neck; one hand cradles your jaw, smoothing back your hair.
“Beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, mouth tracing temple, lip, and the corner of your smile.
Your palm finds his heart; you kiss him proper, slow and deep until your hips find their own rhythm.
“Okay now?” his voice rasps near your ear. You nod; he exhales a held breath, rocking into you again.
The thrusts are gentle but real, the sound small and wet between you.
“Tree’s digging into my back,” you murmur with a breathy laugh. He nods quickly, easing out inch by inch—your body tightens in protest, a whine catching in your throat.
“Got you,” Aonung murmurs, lifting you carefully. He lowers you onto the moss, soft and cool beneath.
Your knees fall open; hair fans dark against the green. He pushes back in.
Your sigh meets his. The rhythm finds its steadiness again, half out, smooth in, repeating.
Your legs wrap around his waist, heels digging low against his back. The bond burns warm and low; he threads his fingers through your curls as he kisses your neck, jaw, lips, marks new over old.
“Good?” he asks, voice tight.
You nod, scratching lightly at his shoulders, chest arching into his. One of his arms braces by your head, eyes locked to your face.
Foreheads nudge; his pace deepens, slow and sure—each thrust hitting right where you need.
His grip slides through your hair, lifting your thigh, adjusting until you cry out.
Your moans rise and fall; he swallows them through messy kisses.
“Love you like this,” he whispers rough, voice shaking. Hips roll harder, breath catching; the bond tangles your pleasure with his.
Your nails drag down his back; the moss flattens beneath your shifting bodies.
His control frays—hips snapping faster, deep and messy. You lock tight around him; his groan cracks against your neck. He clutches your waist, teetering at the edge.
You come first—sudden and fierce, pulsing heat spreading deep. Your breath breaks into strangled sounds; toes curl in the moss. He stills inside you, panting, waiting out your trembles. A swallow, a shaky exhale.
“Not yet,” he growls softly, voice wrecked. “Need you to feel it.”
His body moves again, slower this time.
You stay trembling, soaked and oversensitive, but he holds you close as he rolls his hips, careful, calming. Mouth dragging at your jaw, his whisper spills. “Still with me?”
His thumb circles your clit, slick and gentle. Your body arches, nerves sparking all over again. The pleasure builds sharp, folds fluttering tight around him.
When it hits, you choke against his kiss, walls clenching hard. Aonung groans, thrusts stuttering—his orgasm tears through him in deep, shaking pulses.
He stills, still inside you. Forehead pressed to your temple, breath rough against your ear. You trade lazy kisses, cheek, jaw, mouth.
“There,” he murmurs hoarse and warm. “My girl.”
The bond quiets, gold-soft. The night air cools against skin still humming.
I think I rewrote this about 20 times and I’m still not confident about the ending, let me know how you feel about it!
Based off this request
