It is my beloved @andwegogreen's birthday, and as such, here is a little birthday gift ♥️♥️
It is an unconnected story from this verse (Max/girl!Daniel), set after the 2025 FIA gala.
1.3k of Max eating Daniel out ->
When Daniel wakes up and checks her phone, she finds that–rather than the red carpet pictures of her and Max going into the FIA gala last night–the internet is full of another set of pictures instead. They're from later in the night, when they were trying to leave to come back to the hotel. She hadn't known they were being taken. Max hadn't either. He would have said. He would have shielded her from the camera if he'd known. He always does.
The pictures show her sitting on the carpeted stairs away from the ballroom, with Max a couple of steps below. He has her feet in his lap, and he's carefully focused on undoing the buckle on the thin, delicate ankle straps of her high heels. Then he's taking off her shoes, opening the little bag they'd left in the cloakroom at the start of the evening, helping her on with her checkerboard socks, and after that, her leopard print Vans trainers. He laces them up carefully. Slips her extremely expensive, boringly uncomfortable high heels into the bag her trainers came out of, and hooks the bag over his wrist.
The last picture is of him kissing the inside of her wrist as he helps her to her feet.
The comments section is a fire pit. Daniel thinks the pictures are lovely.
She saves each of the pictures and closes the comments without reading any of them. It's better that way.
She locks her phone, rolls over, and snuffles her face into the side of Max's chest. He's still almost entirely asleep, but his hand goes around her shoulders, holding her close. Neither of them had showered last night when they'd got back to the hotel, so he smells sleep-warm and a little stale. She does too, probably. Her dress– pink, with little capped sleeves, a flared waist, and absolutely no back, designed entirely to show off her tattooed back piece of cascading white flowers– is discarded on the floor next to the chair she'd attempted to throw it over when they got in last night. It's on top of Max's suit jacket, his trousers, crumpled up tie and discarded shirt. They'd eaten fried chicken and chips in their underwear on the hotel sofa before bed, Daniel's bush curling around the edges of her high leg knickers, Max eating one-handed as he petted her cunt through her underwear. He'd promised to eat her out before they went to sleep, but Daniel remembers leaning her head on his shoulder as he finished eating, and nothing after that.
Max had obviously carried her to bed. She's still in her knickers. She licks at his ribcage, little kisses until she can close her mouth over his nipple and kiss him there. He groans a little, starting to wake up.
She kisses up his throat, under his jaw, over the patchy stubble until she can lick her way into his mouth. He's awake enough to kiss back.
"Hello," Max says, as she kisses his cheek and shuffles down until she can rest her face against his shoulder.
"Hello," Daniel says. "Did I fall asleep before you got to eat me out last night?"
Max isn't as quick to wake up as Daniel is. He rubs his eyes. Yawns. "Yes, Daniel," he says finally. "You were snoring very loudly. I couldn’t wake you up at all."
Daniel grins. She's a snorer when she's not curled up on her front. Max seems to find it relatively cute, which is a hundred percent an improvement on her last boyfriend, who'd called her an embarrassment. She doesn't think about him anymore. "So you put me to bed."
"I did," Max agrees. His hand slips down to cup her pussy. "Without getting to eat you out."
"Tragic," Daniel says solemnly. She rolls her hips up to grind against his hand. "If only there was something you could do to fix that."
"There is nothing," Max says, frowning. "It is very sad, Daniel. No more pussy licking."
God, she loves him. She kisses him on both cheeks. Lets him roll her over onto her back. She pulls her knickers up so that they're sitting higher on her hips and more curls escape around the edges of her underwear. She hasn't waxed in ages. She'd be happy if she never had to have a bare pussy again, and Max seems extremely supportive of her decision, given how hard he always gets and how often he likes to bury his face in her cunt.
He strokes the tip of his finger up the centre line of her underwear. He kisses her big nipples, first one, then the other. She parts her legs and he presses the tip of his finger a little deeper in.
"You're very wet, Daniel," he tells her, still touching. She always is. She gets hopelessly wet for him. Always has. "You've leaked all through your knickers."
God. She stifles a moan. He touches her again, over her knickers, stroking her until she can't wait any longer. She wants his mouth on her. Wants his face wet with her. Wants to come with his tongue pressed to her clit.
He helps her off with the knickers, and then settles himself between her legs. She pulls her knees up, spreads her legs a little wider. He parts her with his thumbs, stroking her wet curls out of the way.
"Your cunt is very beautiful," he tells her, like he hasn't spent literally hours of his life staring at it before today. He touches her with the pad of his thumb. "It is beautiful here, and it is beautiful here–" her clit, and she trembles, and makes a noise, "–and where you are so wet here, Daniel, and how I can just touch you inside here. So very lovely." He leans in and kisses the inside of her thighs, first one, then the other, and then proceeds to kiss her everywhere he's just touched. By the time he gets his mouth on her clit, she's making noises that would probably have had the people in the next room calling hotel reception, except this is a suite and in a suite this big, nobody can hear your boyfriend taking you to fucking pieces.
He stops licking her to tilt his chin up and meet her gaze. He's wet from nose to chin. He's wet with her, god. God.
"Very lovely, my Daniel." He beams. "Nobody's cunt is as good as yours."
God. She's barely going to last any time at all. It's okay, though, because Max likes eating her out so much he's imposed a two orgasms for her to every one for him ratio. They don't always stick to it but it's enough to make her feel like she's queen of the fucking world.
He tucks the tips of two fingers inside of her, and crooks them a little so that she cries out. With his other hand he pets her bush. She wriggles under his touch, almost frantic. He kisses her tummy, her curls, her cunt. He takes her to pieces with gentle, fierce familiarity.
When she comes, she does so noisily, desperately, happily. She trembles through the comedown and he touches her the whole time, mouth pressed to the inside of her thigh.
Afterwards, he lays down beside her and lets his erection press against her thigh. She tucks herself around him, shivering until his arms wrap around her and hold her tight.
"Do you want to fuck?" she asks. Max being hard doesn't always mean he wants to. Sometimes he likes to wait. Sometimes he likes to not fuck at all. Sometimes he likes to jerk off or have her touch him until he comes. She's happy either way. So long as he is.
"Not yet. Later," he says. He kisses the inside of her wrist. "I love you."
She loves him back. When she tells him, his smile makes his eyes crinkle.
Later on, after they've dozed a bit, she wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, and lets him carry her into the bathroom, into the shower, into the rest of their day.
I spent too much time writing young Amon and Lieutenant in the two weeks verse. Almost forgot they were violent and depressed middle aged men in the show.
I wanted to write a story where Tarrlok and Noatak leave the North Pole together. Noatak meets the lieutenant pretty early on and they run round as masked vigilantes. The brothers still separate (like cmon if Noatak would abandon his mom and bro the first time he would do it again) because Tarrlok wanted to go back and check that their mom is ok and Noatak wants to leave everything behind start a revolution w the lieutenant. Also, Amon's story about his family being killed by a firebender is actually the lieutenants story, but Amon adopts it because the lieutenant is a *human disaster* with no public speaking skills. The Lieutenant thinks Noatak’s family was also killed and that he is a nonbender.
Also I hc that the Lieutenants name is Quan, at least one of his parents is from the swamp and he smokes like a chimney 🤭. And he has many a screw loose in his head.
But really this is just an excuse to draw fluff heh
This is the 2nd work in a series that takes place in a universe where Tarrlok leaves with Noatak, and Amon meets the Lieutenant pretty early on in life.
But really this story is a hybrid between my love life and my overabundance of lieumon head cannons 🙃🙃🙃
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
More lieutenant from my 'verse where tarrlok and noatak leave together. I dub it the thirst 'verse.
On an unrelated note: ballpoint pen is such an underappreciated drawing tool
On another unrelated note, I have to get better at drawing non eurocentric features, and what better way to practice than drawing the thirst verse 🤷♀️
