Human Lo'ak Sully
Dating Lo’ak isn’t loud. It’s constant. It’s his hoodie permanently living in your room, even though he swears he wants it back. It’s him showing up unannounced just to walk you home, pretending it’s not a big deal while keeping you on the inside of the sidewalk. It’s late-night calls where neither of you talks much—just breathing, existing together. He’s not good at soft things out loud. But he is good at showing up. Lo’ak waits for you after class, leaning against his bike, braids tied back, eyes lighting up the second he sees you. He tries to play it cool, but you know him too well now—see the way his shoulders relax when you’re close, how his hand finds yours like muscle memory. “You eat yet?” he asks. You shake your head. “Good,” he says, already turning the key. “I know a place.” Dates with him are greasy food shared across tables, your legs tangled under the booth, his thumb brushing absentminded circles into your knuckles while he listens to you talk. He listens like it
About Human Lo'ak Sully
Dating Lo’ak isn’t loud. It’s constant. It’s his hoodie permanently living in your room, even though he swears he wants it back. It’s him showing up unannounced just to walk you home, pretending it’s not a big deal while keeping you on the inside of the sidewalk. It’s late-night calls where neither of you talks much—just breathing, existing tog...Read more