Chan fucking housewife!reader back to sleep after you woke up to make his lunch before work. ( ◠‿◠ )
Tags: smut, p and v, slight choking, pretty vanilla tbh
A/n: this is probs the longest fic you’ll ever get from me so I apologize for how rushed it is
You had just finished making the cutest bento ever when you heard the trudge of Chan’s sneakers going down the wooden stairs. Seeing the gleam in your eyes when he turned the corner was already enough to make Chan’s day, but when he looked down to see a bento box filled with rice in the shape of a panda, glazed cutlets, and veggies? His heart began to swirl with a mix of emotions.
Chan loved being able to provide for you, he knew you were more than capable of taking care yourself but he couldn’t help it, It was his favorite thing in the world. So the day you told him you would finally let him take care of you financially, he was overjoyed. But there was something about seeing you so happy to take care of him. His heart swelled with pride but also filled with lust. His little housewife always so good for him
“Do you like it?” He was fully prepared to suppress his lust to show his gratitude to you. But then you looked up at him with those beautiful, pleading eyes he just couldn’t resist and any resolve he had tried to build melted. He’d have to show you just how grateful he is.
Your head is spinning with his scent. You truly didn’t expect him to react like this when he saw the bento box. One minute he was hugging you from behind littering your neck with sweet kisses of gratitude and the other you’re bent over the counter with Chan ramming into you from behind, thick enough to press every ridges inside you.
Your knees buckled a long time ago, now, the only thing holding you up was Chan’s hand wrapped tightly around your neck. “Fuck you feel so good. Exactly what I needed to start my day.” Your moans bounced off of the walls filling the room with the sweet symphony of you.
The wet slapping of your skin with his was damn near hypnotic. “Such a good girl making lunch for me this early. I’m gonna do you a favor and fuck you right back to sleep yeah?”
“Chris please” You don’t even know what begging for anymore. Your mind is too foggy to think and your body is numb with that beautiful pressure building deep inside of you. “You gonna cum for me pretty girl?” He knows you’re too far gone to answer but he still asks you anyway. And the way you’re pulsing around him already gave him his answer.
“That’s it beautiful, let go for me” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as pure serenity washes over you. Chan groans in response to you gripping him like a vice and his thrusts begin picking up in pace. “Channie I can’t!” You cry out.
“You can take it baby I know you can” His grip is tight on your hip but neither of you even care. Chan cums with one final groan buried deep in the nape of your neck. His grip on you finally loosens and you collapse against the counter— delirious and weak from your previous antics. As you drift into sleep you fall limp into Chan’s chest when he picks you up. You faintly recall the sweet nothings he whispered into your ear when he tucked you gently into your shared bed. The last thing you remember before you drift into sleep was a kiss on the forehead and the words “Thank you for food baby” fall from Chan’s lips.
BEIGE N' BROWN DIVIDERS || Color series 03 › Request
✰ USAGE RULES .ᐟ Please credit @angeliicide in the post you use my work! You may also credit me in your pinned or somewhere else visible on your blog. Please do not reupload or alter my dividers.
SUMMARY: A single Bludger in sixth year is all it takes to catch Blaise Zabini’s attention—and he never quite lets it go. What starts as sharp, passing banter turns into something quieter, something charged, until one final Quidditch match leaves no room for subtlety. Because when Blaise finally decides something matters, he doesn’t keep it private.
The first time you properly met Blaise Zabini was during a brutal sixth-year Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin.
You were a Beater for Gryffindor, bat gripped tightly as you soared through the air. Blaise was one of Slytherin’s Chasers—fast, elegant, and annoyingly composed on his broom.
The game was tied and getting vicious.
When you spotted Blaise diving for the Quaffle, you swung hard. The Bludger shot straight toward him like a cannonball. It clipped his broom with perfect precision.
“Fuck!” Blaise hissed, fighting to regain balance as his broom spun wildly. He righted himself after a few tense seconds, robes whipping in the wind.
You flew past him, bat resting on your shoulder, wearing a sharp smirk.
“What’s the matter, Zabini?” you called out, loud enough for him to hear over the wind. “Couldn’t handle a little pain?”
Blaise turned his head, dark eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, the noise of the stadium faded.
Instead of glaring or snapping back, the corner of his mouth slowly curved into a dangerous, appreciative smile.
From that exact second, Blaise Zabini was hooked.
After that match, he made sure you knew it.
In the corridors, he’d pass by you and murmur low, “Careful with that bat, Gryffindor. One day I might hit back.”
In Potions, when you reached for the same ingredient, he’d lean in and say, “Trying to knock me off balance again?”
During breakfast, if your eyes met across the Great Hall, he’d tilt his head with that signature lazy smirk.
The banter never stopped.
And neither did the tension.
By seventh year, the game had changed.
Slughorn’s Slug Club Christmas party was in full swing—floating candles, elegant music, and students in their finest robes.
You were there in a deep red dress that hugged your frame, hair pinned up with a few rebellious strands framing your face.
You spotted Blaise across the room almost immediately. He looked unfairly good in black dress robes, a sleek silver tie knotted perfectly at his throat.
He didn’t wait long. Within minutes, he was standing in front of you, that same smirk playing on his lips.
“Surprised to see a Gryffindor Beater at one of Slughorn’s refined events,” he drawled.
You lifted an eyebrow. “And yet here you are, Zabini. Still recovering from that Bludger I sent your way last year?”
Blaise chuckled softly, stepping a little closer. “That hit was impressive. Almost as impressive as this dress.”
His gaze swept over you once, slow and deliberate. “Red suits you. Dangerous.”
Your lips curved. “Your tie isn’t bad either. Silver looks almost civil on a Slytherin.”
The banter felt lighter tonight, edged with something sweeter.
You talked about Quidditch, classes, and the special guest that Slughorn had said he had invited. The space between you slowly disappeared.
Blaise leaned in, his voice dropping as he said something that made you laugh quietly, your shoulder nearly brushing his chest.
Before either of you could close the remaining distance—
“Ah! There you are!”
Slughorn’s booming voice cut through the moment as he appeared beside you, beaming. He gestured toward a sharply dressed witch standing nearby.
“The captain of the Holyhead Harpies,” he announced proudly. “And these two," He looked back at her, "some of the finest young Quidditch players you’ll ever see.”
The moment was lost.
But the look Blaise gave you before you were both pulled away said it wasn’t forgotten.
The real tension exploded during the final Quidditch match of the year: Gryffindor versus Slytherin.
Lee Jordan’s voice rang across the pitch, loud and unapologetically biased.
“And it’s Gryffindor in possession—Alicia Spinnet with the Quaffle—oh, nice dodge there! Take that, Pucey! GryffINDOR leads sixty–forty!”
The game was fierce.
Mattheo Riddle captained Slytherin with sharp aggression, flanked by Chasers Blaise Zabini and Adrian Pucey. Goyle and Crabbe swung their bats like they had personal grudges. Theo guarded the hoops as Keeper, while Draco darted around searching for the Snitch.
You and Ginny Weasley dominated as Beaters, sending Bludgers flying with precision.
“And there goes another Bludger from Gryffindor’s power duo—that’s gotta hurt, Zabini! Our Beater is showing no mercy today!”
Blaise dodged your latest hit by inches, eyes finding yours across the pitch. Even in the middle of the chaos, he smirked.
The score climbed higher.
With minutes left and the Snitch still in play, Harry caught it in a spectacular dive.
“GRYFFINDOR WINS!” Lee Jordan screamed. “ONE HUNDRED AND SEVENTY TO ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY! GRYFFINDOR TAKES THE CUP!” The Gryffindor stands erupted.
Both teams landed on the pitch.
Slytherin players were livid—Mattheo’s jaw clenched, Draco cursing under his breath, Goyle and Crabbe looking ready to snap their brooms, and Theo wearing his usual blank mask of displeasure.
You dismounted your broom, breathing hard, grin wide as your teammates cheered and slapped your back. Ginny pulled you into a quick hug.
Before you could fully celebrate, heavy footsteps approached.
Blaise walked straight up to you, ignoring everyone around him.
Without a word, he cupped your face with one hand—
—and kissed you.
Firm. Confident.
Right there in front of the entire school.
The pitch went dead silent.
You froze for half a second, stunned.
Then you kissed him back.
The stands exploded.
Cheers, gasps, and wild shouting filled the air.
Lee Jordan’s voice cracked with disbelief and amusement: “Well, folks… that just happened! Zabini from Slytherin planting one on our Beater! I don’t know whether to cheer or call a foul!”
Even McGonagall was pressing her lips together, clearly trying—and failing—to hide a smile.
You're still a virgin, crazy right? Well the thought to Bangchan never bothered him. Yes, he's always been experienced, but Chan was never the type to push anything onto you that you wouldn't want. He listens, and never tries to force you to do anything.
Although sometimes you felt bad because you two haven't passed the actual sex part, but you guys of course have had a little makeout that would leave to Bangchan having to sort himself out with his palm afterwards.
That's how he thought this would happen. You're on your back on the bed in your apartment. Chan came over, things led to that, and now you're under him. You're left leg is lifted up onto his waist, his big arm holding you up as he dry humps you slowly without realizing. "W-Wait.. channie–" "Oh, oh my god. I'm sorry I didn't realize I–" "Keep going, that felt really good." He looked up at you and your face was flushed, how could he say no?
Pulling his pants down just enough to show the prominent bulge hidden behind his boxers that already have a wet stain left of pre cum. Rubbing his bulge against your tiny sleeping shorts. "Mmm, chan?" His eyes look onto yours stopping his movements instantly thinking he did something wrong. "W-Want...you to," You stumble to find your own words not sure if you're speaking with lust or your brain. "-fuck me." Chan's reaction switched, "Baby, are you sure?"
"I think i'm ready channie."
-
His hands trailing up and down your thighs soothing the silk like skin as his he separates your thighs from eachother, taking a good look at your juicy pussy. The both of you already nude and letting the chills his your skin. "Like everything I imagined baby." Bangchan's eyes watch your body like a hawk, his eyes never leaving your already leaking cunt. "Tell me, fuck–tell me you need me. Tell me you want this because YOU want it." He says making sure once more to make sure this is a hundred percent your decision.
You nod, can't help but watch the way his cock stands proudly. With such a beautiful thick blessing, you'd think he'd be with someone who has already lost their virginity to be able to do it frequently. "Want this, you, all of you..." The words warm his chest. Palming himself and watching your gaze follow his movements. "You want it baby? Yeah?" His words shivered out of his mouth the thought of being the first to touch you, make you cum, hear your moans, and how well you take dick excited him.
"Such a pretty—no gorgeous, pussy." Chan comments as the tip of his cock teases your clit's puffy folds. Slowly, steadily, pushing his tip into you with a sharp sting that causes you to bite down on your lip. "Shh, I got you baby," He gently pushes another inch in. "It's gonna hurt but you're strong aren't ya?" His thick aussie accent slips making the pain go away from how desperate you already are.
It takes awhile but at last he finally had bottomed out into you. Chan shivers a little whimper leaves his throat feeling how tight you are. Now hovering above you, reaching your hands out to hold his face and carefully caress his cheek. "Take your time channie." That's when he looks down at you, the stare is so pathetic he looks like he could cry at how sweetly your squeezing and sucking him into you. "You're, so tight, oh fuuck." The 'fuck' comes out in a growl making you wetter by the second.
You're hands reaching down to his hips and pushing him into you to thrust in earning a loud groan from him. He takes it as a sign to start to move into you, pushing your gummy walls open over and over. The tightness slowly starts to feel more natural from you adjusting to the size of how big your boyfriend is. "You signed your own death warrant baby, i'll be in this damn pussy hourly." You laugh but nothing is funny, you want this man in your guts. If you had known sex with chan would be this good you would have already lost your virginity months into the relationship.
Chan's hands had never stopped caressing you, needling, kissing into your skin making you feel seen everywhere. His thrust into you weren't brutal but weren't soft either. He was making love to you bet letting you see that he could support every need you ever needed was and is inside of him.
The soft thrust make the bed rumble and squeak. His forearms taking place on both sides of your head while leaving love bites all over your neck. You're soft moans fill his ears and make him just want to fuck you like a animal but that can be pushed off for another day.
"Chan... need'a pee!" You're head rolls back against the pillow, his thrust pick up and you feel a smile form on his face. "That means you're gonna cum baby," You're fingers grip onto his forearms, needing a place to hold you down. "Come on, you're so close pretty girl." He grits down trying to push back his breaking point. Once, then again, the bed shakes and you're moans get louder, needier.
You tremble under him, you're climax splurging onto his abdomen and his beautiful chiseled v-line. The feeling of your cunt gripping down chan like a vice had him cumming not even five minutes later. He throws his head back and fills your hole with his seed, you watch with hazy eyes–his neck on full display watching his adam's apple bob when he grunts and shivers above you. "Ohh—fuccck!" The man growls and leans his head into your neck to catch his breath. You feel his cum oozing down your folds and you can't help but smile.
Moving his hair from his temple and kissing it softly as you whisper your praise. "Thank you." You later then feel his smile against your neck and a soft kiss being left on your collar bone. You can get used to this everyday.
chan had barely made it through the front door before you attacked him with kisses. which lead him to pull you onto his lap on the couch, his mouth on yours in messy, half laughing kisses. His breath hitched when you rocked against him, just the need to feel something.
“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, voice rough. “You’re not even gonna let me breathe first?”
You grinned, “Nope.”
His pants were already tented, the fabric straining as you grind down harder, the friction making him groan into your mouth. You could feel the heat of him through your shorts, the dampness starting to seep through where your bodies pressed together.
his hands slipped under your shirt, fingers dragging up your spine. like he couldn’t get enough even though you were right there, straddling him, panting into his mouth.
His laugh vibrated against your lips as you rolled your hips again, slow this time, just to feel the way his thighs tensed under you.
“God, you’re—” Chan broke off with a gasp when you bit his neck, his hips jerking up to meet yours. You could feel him twitch beneath you, his breath coming in ragged bursts, his hands were everywhere, kneading your ass, sliding up your ribs, thumb brushing the underside of your breast.
You whimpered when his palm cupped you through your shorts, his fingers pressing just right, and Chan swallowed the sound with another messy kiss.
His tongue was hot against yours as you rocked into his hand, chasing the building pressure low in your gut. It wasn’t going to take much, not with the way he was touching you, the way his hips stuttered under yours like he was already close.
Chan’s voice was wrecked when he spoke, his lips brushing yours with every word. “Fuck, you’re so wet—” He cut himself off with a groan, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as you grind down harder, the seam of your shorts catching just right. His fingers dug into your thighs, his hips trembling, and you knew he was teetering on the edge, just like you.
His groan vibrated against your skin as you arched into him, the rough drag of fabric between you turning slick with arousal. Chan’s fingers tangled in your hair, tugging gently, just enough to make you gasp, and his other hand slid down to grip the back of your thigh, hauling you impossibly closer. "nghh, fuck—" your voice cracked, both hands holding onto his shoulders.
"Yeah, just like that — keep moving like that," he encourages, you could feel the tension coiling in him, the way his hips jerked up erratically, chasing the friction of your shorts riding higher with every roll of your body. "fuck you feel so good, gonna make me cum already."
His words sent a fresh pulse of heat through you, your own breath coming in shallow gasps as you grind down harder, the pressure building almost unbearably, "m'close" you managed to whine against him.
Chan's palm slid up your stomach, dragging your shirt along with it, his thumb brushing your nipple through the thin fabric of your bra. "That's it," he encouraged, his voice rough with want, "just let go, I got you." His other hand slipped between you, fingers pressing against the soaked fabric of your shorts, circling exactly where you needed it, and your vision blurred at the edges.
You clutched at his shoulders, your hips stuttering as pleasure crashed over you in waves, your back arching as you came with a broken cry. Chan's name spilled from your lips, half muffled against his neck, and he shuddered beneath you, his own climax hitting hard as he buried his face in your hair. His hips jerked up once, twice, before stilling, his groan vibrating against your skin as he came too in hot pulses.
“shit,” he muttered eventually after he'd caught his breath, voice wrecked, lips curling into a grin against your shoulder. “You didn’t even let me take my shoes off.”
You laughed, breathless, curling your fingers into his hair just to feel the way he shivered at the touch. “You complaining?”
Chan lifted his head just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark, still hazy with lingering pleasure. “Not even a little.”
⚘( ၴႅၴsummary : you and chan try using toys in the bedroom (request!)
cw : SMUT, piv, sex toys (dildo, vibrators, anal beads, fuck machine) i only have a dildo and vibrator so i’m sorry if like the other items are described wrong💔, mouth fucking w a dildo, chan calls reader baby, princess, good/dirty girl, and cock slut
kitty talks : going through a breakup so i’ve been not good sorry for the lack of posts and if this is shit and thank you sm for 500 followers mwah yall are soo sweet
wc : 2k
it had slipped past your lips before you could even realize what you were saying. you didn’t even compute it in your mind until silence settled over you and chan.
“you have a dildo?” he asked, still gobsmacked as he turned to you.
your cheeks flushed and you suddenly became very intrigued in counting the designs in the carpet below you.
a grin spread across chans lips as he began to tease you, leaning in closer to poke at your shoulder, “don’t act all coy now y/n! how long have you had it? how big is it? is it pink?”
“oh my goddd!” you whined into your hands, still avoiding his eyes, “chan stop this is embarrassing!”
“can i at least see it? where do you hide it, ive never even seen it anywhere,” he leaned in even closer faking an offended expression, “do you like it more than my cock?!”
you playfully shoved him, “this is why i never told you! i got it as a joke with my friends but sometimes it’s nice when you’re not here…”
“how often do you use it?” he asked, interested now.
you shrugged, “whenever you’re away on tour,” you looked up at his shocked face, “it gets lonely! you’re gone for months i need some way to relieve myself!”
he gave you a dramatic pained expression, “my girlfriend’s replacing me with silicone! are there more?! are there other toys that you’re cheating on me with?”
you hesitated for a second which earned a gasp as he jerked up off the couch, “there’s more!?”
“they’re fun!” you whined, your face growing hot.
he smirked at your reaction, “well now you have to show me, i gotta see my competition.”
you groaned as you stood up from the coach, walking towards a cupboard in your dresser you never thought you’d have to reveal. your boyfriend was quick to start trailing behind you, giggling with excitement as he followed.
your hand hovered on the knob, “promise you won’t be weird about it?”
he held his hand in the air as if he was taking an oath, “i promise i won’t be weird about it!”
you sighed and opened the drawer. chan was quick to gasp and lean in to look at all the items. dildos of differing in colors and lengths: some skin colored while others were bright obnoxiously pink, vibrators of all kinds: wands, rabbits, a rose toy, one with a suction on the end, one with a curved angle to aim for your g-spot, butt plugs, and anal beads. his jaw was on the floor as he looked over each toy, his mind drifting to thoughts of you using each one.
“there’s one more..” you whispered, barely loud enough for chan to hear, but of course he did.
“more?!” he turned to you, shocked, but you could see the pure excitement on his face.
you whined, “just one more!” your voice lowered, “but it is the biggest…”
he was nearly shaking with joy, but tried to contain it to not make your embarrassment worse. you walked over to your shared bed and got on your knees to pull out a case from beneath it. you unzipped it quickly, as if ripping off a bandaid, and there inside was a fuck machine. chan couldn’t contain himself, his little laughs and giggles getting louder as he got more excited, bending down to look at it.
“baby you’re a freak!” he gasped out through his little squeals.
you whined and threw your head back, “chan!”
he was quick to retrace his words, “i love it! i love your freakiness! it makes things more exciting!” he ended his sentence by wiggling his eyebrows and winking.
your eyes widened, “more exciting?” you paused, “you want to use this stuff together!?”
he leaned in close to you over the fuck machine, “want to use it on you. want you to show me how you pleasure yourself when i’m gone.”
your cheeks flushed for a whole new reason and you couldn’t lie, the idea created a little wet spot in your panties.
“which one do you want to use?” you shyly asked, not meeting his eyes just yet, still too embarrassed.
he raised an eyebrow, “just one?”
“and you say i’m the freaky one.”
“oh im sorry, am i the one hiding a fuck machine beneath our bed?” he smirked.
your mouth opened, but you couldn’t really deny it or come up with anything to say to retaliate, “ok so which ones do you want to use?”
chan put a finger on his chin, “i’m thinking fuck machine, vibrator and anal beads.”
you scoffed at how quickly he came up with the answer but you weren’t objecting to it, “you’ve had this fantasy for awhile, haven’t you?”
he shrugged his shoulders, “a guy can dream can’t he?”
your legs shook and tears trickled down your cheeks. chan sat with a smirk next to you, pressing a button on the fuck machine to speed it up while he held the vibrating wand against your poor clit. all that could come out of your mouth were pathetic babbles and pleas for more even though your hole was already being abused.
you were dripping around the dildo pounding into you, your arousal creating a small puddle beneath you. your asshole clenched around the glass beads deep inside you, the double stimulation making your mind fuzzy. chan next to you pumped his own cock slowly as he watched the scene, his tip leaking sticky pre cum between his fingers.
“you like that baby? making you feel good princess?” he teased as he pressed the wand more into your clit.
you whimpered, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth as you attempted to nod.
“is this what you do when i’m gone? you use your toys, dirty girl?”
you hummed, biting at your lip.
he completely turned the wand off, despite your cries, and clicked his tongue, “do the toys fuck you better then i do?”
you looked up at him with tears in your eyes, “no channie, of course not, please don’t stop…” jutting out your bottom lip to try and win him over.
“you want my cock instead of that flimsy dildo?” he motioned towards the fuck machine.
you nodded, reaching out to grip at his arm before letting your hand slide down to his hand still pumping his cock. chan groaned, biting at his own lip as your thumb teased his slit, coating your fingers w his pre cum.
as your fingers worked on his sensitive tip you looked up at him, “please fuck me chan.”
he didn’t waste a second more, throwing the forgotten wand to the other side of the bed and pushing the machine out of the way. your pussy ached at the loss of stimulation, your hole dripping at the sight of chan lining himself up to you.
he pushed in, the dildo having already prepped you to take his cock. you moaned loudly, reaching down to drag your fingers against his pelvis.
“fuck chan!”
“god princess, you’re so wet, you’re sucking me in.” he grunted as he began to thrust into your needy cunt.
the wet sloppy sounds filled the room, along with the both of your moans damn near in sync. he filled you so sweetly, reached so deep inside you and rubbed against that sweet spot just right. chan reached over to grab a dildo off the bed he had previously pulled out, the one you use the most when he’s gone.
he pressed it to your lips, collecting your drool on its lips, “open baby.”
you did as told, of course, sucking on the tip as chan pushed it in.
he was practically drooling at the sight, tears in your eyes as you took inch by inch of the dildo deeper down your throat. you gagged a little when it reached the back of your throat.
chans thrusts grew more harsh, his pelvis catching your clit everytime he bottomed out inside you, “you suck that dildo so well baby, such a good cock slut for me,” he pushed it further down your throat, “when you deep throat this dildo when i’m gone, do you wish it was me face fucking you?”
you nodded around the fake cock, your spit bubbling around it. he grabbed one of your hands and led it to grip at the dildo.
“fuck your own mouth for me baby.” he mumbled as he reached over to grab at the wand, turning it on and bringing it back to your clit.
the multiple forms of stimulation was driving you insane, your eyes rolling back as your hips bucked closer to chans dick and the wand, craving more.
“such a dirty girl.” he gasped out.
the sounds of your sopping cunt, your loud gagging, the buzzing of the wand and skin slapping filled the room. you pulled the dildo out of your mouth, strings of spit still connecting you to it.
“‘m gonna cum channie..” you whimpered, shocked you even got the words out.
“yea? my baby gonna cum? cum hard on my cock sweet girl.” he smirked down at you as he thrusts grew to a bruising speed.
you’re his good girl, so of course you did as told, crying out desperately as you cum hard on his cock. your orgasm knocking the wind out of you, but chan didn’t let up, his cock still pounding into you as he pressed the wand down more into your clit.
“c-chan! fuck-ngh! please..too much!” you weakly tried to grab at his hands.
“so close baby, just a bit more, need to cum in your pretty pussy.” he groaned, too lost in your velvety walls to think properly.
his orgasm followed close behind yours, emptying his load deep inside your abused cunny. you moaned loudly at the feeling of being filled with his seed. chan nearly collapsed on top of you from the force of his orgasm, but when he recovered, he took the dildo from you, pressing a kiss to your lips as a quiet way of saying ‘i’m proud of you.’
as he pulled out, chan was quick to keep his cum from leaking out of your pussy by stuffing you back full with the dildo.
“chan!” you cried out as your body twitched with the sudden feeling.
he clicked his tongue as he bent down to be eye level with your sensitive core, “i know baby, but you’re doing so good for me.”
he looped his finger in the little circle handle of the anal beads and slowly began to pull, popping the small glass beads out of your puckered hole. you whimpered loudly as each one left your tight ass, chans cum spilling out around the dildo as another wave of your orgasm hit again.
chan cooed at you as the last bead popped out, whispering about how you’re such a good girl for him. he crawled but up to your face and gave you a passionate kiss as he reached down and slowly pulled the dildo out of your sore cunt, letting his cum freely leak down your core.
you whimpered at the loss of stimulation but he was quick to shush you with more kisses, wrapping his arms around you as to try and soothe your body.
“you did so good for me baby, my good girl always takes my cock so well.” you whispered against your lips.
you blushed at his words, grinning against his lips as you wrapped your own arms around his waist, “thank you channie, you always treat me so well.”
he playfully scoffed with the biggest smile on his face, “well of course i do, gotta treat my little freak with the best care, keep her satisfied.”
you both giggled at his words and you hugged him tighter.
chan pressed a kiss against your hair as his grip on you tightened, picking you up and holding you against his chest, “come on baby, let’s go get you cleaned up.”
“chan, what is that?”
he had a shit eating grin spread across his face as he shoved his phone closer to your face, “don’t you think it’s cool?”
you groaned and rolled your eyes, “i regret ever showing you my toys.”
he faked a pout and pulled up another picture of the item, “you don’t want to get a dildo shaped like my own cock?”
𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 - freak x freak established relationship, suggestive MDNI, mentions of oral (f receiving), mention of cock warming, mentions of piv, mention of mirror sex, implied phone sex/m!masturbation, munch hyunjin bc it’s me, omegaverse and mpreg jokes
i love these text posts sm, i’ll probably make a normal fluffy one eventually lol
Can u make dividers/ welcome to my diary
with the theme: red , black dragons and blood?
( daenerys targaryen inspired )
hiii thank you for the request @xnadiahxx!! i dont really know what daenerys targaryen is so ive done my best. clearly i got a bit carried away and made that header but i hope u like ittt!! lmk if you want any details/colours changed or added <3
He’s been drilling into you for what feels like hours now. Chan’s always like this when he’s had a hard day but he’s never been this rough—this deep. Your legs are so close to giving out. He lands another slap behind you bringing you back to earth. You call out his name in response. Whether you want him to stop or keep going, you don’t know. Your thoughts left you a long time ago. All you can think about is Chan. His scent. His groans. It’s all so intoxicating.
Your moans blend together like a symphony in his ears only urging him to keep going. To keep taking you like this—like a toy. Sweat dripping from his nose as his eyes lock onto where you and him meet. He can’t stop rambling when he’s like this. Praises falling from his lips about how well you’re taking him. How you just need to give him one more release and he’ll let you rest. But it’s a lie, it’s never just one more when he’s like this. You just have to take whatever he gives you until he’s exhausted himself.
And you let him because truth be told you’re just as needy as he is. Just as filthy.
notes: pining, jealousy, misunderstandings between the two, reader and neteyam are dumb, lo'ak being the sensible one.
word count: 5.9k
prompt: all along he thought you knew he was courting you but when you start avoiding him when you see him with another girl, he thinks you want him to stop courting you not knowing you weren’t really aware he was trying to mate with you.
masterlist
credits to the gif owner
The sun dipped low over the lush canopy of the Omatikaya forest, casting golden shafts through the leaves that danced across your azure skin like fleeting fireflies.
You sat cross-legged on a woven mat at the edge of the communal fire pit, your lithe frame relaxed after a long day of gathering herbs and weaving baskets. Strands of your dark hair, loosely braided with feathers from the hexapede you'd befriended, framed your delicate face, where wide amber eyes sparkled with quiet contentment. Your beauty was effortless, a soft curve to your full lips, high cheekbones flushed with the day's warmth, and a slender neck that led to the gentle swell of your shoulders, bare save for the thin straps of your beaded top.
You were known in the clan for your sweetness, always offering a kind word or a helping hand, your voice like a gentle breeze carrying notes of laughter that eased tensions among the hunters and weavers alike.
Neteyam approached from the treeline, his tall, athletic build cutting through the underbrush with purposeful strides.
His blue skin held a subtle sheen under the fading light, broader than the average Na'vi, he moved with fluid grace as any born of Eywa. His golden eyes, sharp and watchful, softened the moment they landed on you, and he carried a skewer of roasted yerik meat in one hand, the savory aroma wafting toward the fire. He had been out on patrol all afternoon, his lithe muscles still taut from the exertion, a faint sheen of sweat tracing the defined lines of his chest and abdomen, where faint scars from training marred the otherwise smooth expanse.
Without a word, he lowered himself beside you, his thigh brushing yours in a way that felt natural, protective like a shield woven from his very presence. The heat from his body mingled with the fire's glow, and you shifted slightly, making room, your tail curling idly against the mat.
"Here." He said, his voice deep and warm, laced with that attentive care he always reserved for you, extending the skewer. "You haven't eaten since morning. Take this."
His free hand hovered near your shoulder, as if ready to steady you, his fingers long and calloused from bowstrings.
You accepted the meat with a grateful smile, your lips parting to reveal straight white teeth, and bit into the tender flesh, juices dripping down your chin. "Thank you, Teyam. You're always looking out for everyone."
Your tone was light, sincere, as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, savoring the smoky flavor.
He watched you eat, his gaze lingering on the way your throat moved with each swallow, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
When you'd finished half the skewer, he reached over casually, his knuckles grazing the soft plane of your midriff just above your woven skirt. His touch was light, playful, as he poked gently at the slight give of your stomach, testing.
"Full yet?" He teased, his golden eyes crinkling with amusement, the firelight reflecting in their depths like stars.
You giggled, the sound bubbling up sweetly, your hand instinctively covering his for a moment before pulling back, the contact sending a warm flutter through you that you dismissed as simple comfort.
He poked your tummy once more, firmer this time, until he nodded in satisfaction, withdrawing his hand but not his proximity.
Leaning back on one elbow, his broad shoulders rolling with the motion, he grinned a full boyish expression that lit up his handsome features, revealing the dimple in his left cheek. "Good. I have to keep you well-fed, or else you'll be grumpy all evening, and no one wants that."
His words carried a fond lilt, protective undertone threading through like vines around a tree trunk.
You felt a flush creep up your neck, your cheeks warming to a subtle lavender hue, but you waved it off with a laugh, assuming it was just his way. Neteyam had always been kind, especially to you, like an older brother watching over the clan.
"I'm not grumpy." You protested softly, nudging his arm with your elbow, the muscle there solid under your touch. "But I appreciate it. Really."
The flattery settled comfortably in your chest, a quiet joy at his attentiveness, yet you chalked it up to platonic concern, the kind he showed to his siblings or close friends.
As the evening deepened, the camp buzzed with shared stories and laughter around the fire.
Neteyam stayed glued to your side, his knee pressing against yours whenever he shifted to gesture during a tale, his arm occasionally draping over the log behind you, fingers nearly brushing your hair.
You leaned into the space without thinking, your shoulder nestling against his, reciprocating the closeness naturally by tucking a loose strand of his braid behind his ear when it fell forward, or passing him a gourd of water with a soft tone. "Here, you look thirsty."
Each act felt easy, instinctive, like breathing in the humid air, unaware that to him, they were signals blooming in the silent language of courtship.
Neteyam interpreted your every response as understanding, as quiet acceptance of his intentions. He had never spoken the words outright. Why would he? In the ways of the People, actions wove the bond stronger than declarations. Your easy touches, the way your amber eyes met his without pulling away, filled him with a swelling joy, his heart pounding a steady rhythm whenever that purple flush colored your cheeks under his gaze. He believed you knew, that your sweetness masked a shared secret, and it made his protective instincts burn brighter.
The next morning dawned with mist clinging to the ferns, the air alive with the calls of ilu in the nearby streams.
You knelt by the riverbank, your slender fingers dipping into the cool water to rinse fresh fruit, your lithe legs folded beneath you, the curve of your hips accentuated by the morning light filtering through the leaves. Your beauty shone in these simple moments, skin glowing like polished sapphire, the gentle arch of your back as you reached for a low-hanging vine, full lips pursed in concentration.
Neteyam emerged from the path leading to the hunting grounds, his stride confident, a small woven pouch slung over his shoulder. He had risen before the sun, his mind fixed on you as always, seeking you out amid the clan's morning routines.
Spotting you by the water, he veered toward you without hesitation, his tall frame casting a shadow that made you glance up, your face brightening with that sweet smile.
"Good morning." You greeted, straightening with a handful of berries, droplets trailing down your arms like liquid diamonds.
He knelt beside you, close enough that his knee dipped into the damp earth next to yours, his scent earthy and spiced from the hunt washing over you. From the pouch, he drew a delicate necklace, woven from fine fibers dyed in deep indigo, threaded with small beads that matched the ones woven into his own braids, iridescent and polished stones, symbols of promise among the Omatikaya. Such gifts were no small thing, only those spoken for exchanged beads and jewelry, a quiet vow etched in adornment.
His golden eyes held yours steadily as he held it out, voice soft with earnest warmth. "For you. I made it last night."
Your eyes widened, fingers trembling slightly as you took it, the beads cool against your palm.
It was beautiful, intricate, and you traced the patterns with awe, slipping it over your head without a second thought. The weight settled against your collarbone, warm now from your skin.
"Neteyam, it's stunning." You breathed, touching it lightly, your voice laced with genuine delight. "Thank you so much. You're too kind."
To you, it was another gesture of friendship, a token from a dear companion who noticed your love for such crafts.
He watched as you adjusted it, his chest tightening with quiet elation at how it complemented the curve of your neck, drawing out the glow of your eyes.
Leaning in, his breath ghosting your ear, he murmured. "It looks pretty on you. Suits you perfectly."
His hand lingered near your shoulder, thumb brushing the strap of your top in a fleeting touch, protective and tender.
Throughout the day, he positioned himself near you effortlessly, standing at your side while you helped mend nets, his arm steadying yours when a knot proved tricky, the heat of his body a constant reassurance.
At midday meal, he claimed the spot beside you on the log, sharing bites of breadfruit from his own portion, his knee bumping yours under the pretense of passing a utensil. You reciprocated without reservation, feeding him a piece of fruit in return, your fingers grazing his lips accidentally, laughing softly at the juice that smeared his chin.
"Messy eater." You teased sweetly, wiping it away with your thumb, the act intimate yet innocent in your mind.
Neteyam savored these moments, his heart swelling each time you leaned into him or met his gaze with that trusting warmth. Your acceptance fueled his belief that you understood that this was the dance of courtship, unspoken but profound. He never pressed for words, in his eyes, your sweetness was the answer, and it made him seek you out even more fervently.
That evening, as the hunters returned from a brief foray into the woods, Neteyam was among the first to break from the group, his eyes scanning the camp until they found you seated by the weaver's circle, your fingers deftly threading vines into patterns. He approached with a small bundle wrapped in leaves, his lithe form still humming with the thrill of the chase, chest rising and falling steadily under his harness.
Kneeling before you, he unwrapped it to reveal a cluster of rare glow-fruit, their skins luminescent even in the twilight, plucked from a hidden grove.
"For you." He said again, his voice rich with affection, golden eyes locking onto yours as he placed it in your lap, his hand covering yours briefly, thumb stroking the back in a soothing circle. "Saw these and thought of your smile, they light up like you do."
You blushed, the purple tint blooming across your nose, and accepted the gift with a soft gasp, your free hand touching his wrist in thanks. "Neteyam, you didn't have to. But... I love them. You're always bringing me the best things."
Popping one into your mouth, the sweet burst made you hum in pleasure, and you offered him the next, unaware of the courtship ritual in the sharing. He took it from your fingers, his lips brushing your skin deliberately, a spark of joy igniting in his chest at your oblivious sweetness.
As days blurred into a rhythm of closeness, you couldn't help the quiet worry that gnawed at you during quieter moments.
Neteyam spent so much time with you, guarding your path to the river, joining you in the evenings to stargaze, his arm around your shoulders as if warding off the night's chill. It was flattering, the way his attentiveness made you feel seen, cherished, but you fretted silently that it might deter other potential mates. He was the clan's golden son, brave and skilled. Surely, his focus on you could ruin his chances.
Yet, deep down, a selfish part of you wanted to bask in it longer.
You'd always harbored a secret longing for it to be you, imagining his hand in yours during the mating rituals, his golden eyes promising forever. But if he truly wanted that, wouldn't he have said it outright? Na'vi didn't play games with such things.
So you kept quiet, letting yourself enjoy his presence while it lasted. The way he'd pull you close during a sudden rain, shielding you with his body, his laughter rumbling against your ear or how he'd braid a fresh flower into your hair after a swim, his fingers lingering on your scalp, massaging gently until you sighed in contentment.
One afternoon, as you walked the forest paths together collecting vines, he stayed a step behind, his eyes tracing the sway of your hips, the elegant line of your spine. When a low branch snagged your arm, he was there instantly, plucking it away with a tsk of concern, his palm cupping your elbow to inspect the minor scratch.
"Careful, sevin." He murmured, the endearment slipping out like a habit, his touch feather-light as he blew on the mark, golden eyes fierce with protectiveness.
You smiled up at him, heart fluttering, and squeezed his hand. "I'm fine, thanks to you."
In these drawn-out exchanges, his affection unfolded like the petals of a sunbloom, attentive in the way he anticipated your needs, sweet in the stories he shared by the fire, his voice dropping low as he described hunts just to see your eyes widen. He'd draw you into his side during communal dances, his hand at the small of your back guiding your steps, bodies moving in sync under the bioluminescent glow.
You reciprocated with hugs goodbye after shared tasks, your cheek pressing to his chest, inhaling his scent, convincing yourself it was all just the warmth of friendship.
~
The bioluminescent glow of the evening settled over the Omatikaya village like a soft veil, vines pulsing with faint light as the clan gathered for the communal meal.
You wove through the crowd, your bare feet padding silently on the woven platforms, the sway of your hips subtle under the lightweight loincloth that hugged your curves.
Your azure skin caught the ethereal shimmer, highlighting the graceful taper of your waist and the gentle rise of your breasts beneath a top of supple leaves. Strands of your hair, adorned with tiny shells that clinked softly, fell in loose waves over one shoulder, framing your heart-shaped face where your amber eyes held a lingering warmth from the day's simple joys.
You spotted Neteyam near the central fire, his broad back turned momentarily as he conversed with a group of hunters. But then, as you drew closer, your steps faltered. He was leaning in toward a female Na'vi you'd seen only in passing.
Kalife.
The one whose voice enchanted the nights during celebrations, her songs weaving through the air like threads of moonlight. She was striking in her own right, her lithe form draped in a shawl of iridescent feathers that accentuated the elegant length of her limbs and the high arch of her brows. Her skin gleamed with a deeper cobalt hue, and her full mouth curved in easy laughter as she tilted her head, exposing the slender column of her throat.
Neteyam laughed a deep, resonant sound that rumbled from his chest, his golden eyes crinkling at the edges in a way you'd rarely seen, softened by an unfamiliar tenderness. A faint azure tint colored his cheeks, blooming across his sharp jawline, and he reached out to lightly touch her arm, his fingers lingering just a beat too long on the smooth expanse of her bicep.
They stood close, shoulders nearly brushing, the space between them charged with an intimacy that twisted something sharp in your gut.
Jealousy uncoiled like a viper in your chest, hot and insistent, mingling with a wave of insecurity that made your throat tighten.
Who was she to him?
You knew little beyond her reputation, the clan's finest singer, her melodies drawing sighs from even the sternest warriors during feasts. But seeing Neteyam like this, his usual guarded demeanor cracking into that rare blush, you couldn't help the assumption that solidified in your mind.
He liked her. Of course he did.
She was everything vibrant and captivating, while you'd been fooling yourself with his attentiveness, mistaking brotherly kindness for something more. Embarrassment flooded you, heating your face as you imagined how naive you'd been, reciprocating his touches and gifts like they meant what your heart had dared to hope.
You turned away abruptly, your tail flicking with agitation, and slipped back toward your family's marui without a word to anyone. The woven entrance flap closed behind you with a soft rustle, sealing you in the dim, vine-draped space.
For the next few days, you retreated fully, curling into your hammock with a blanket of furs pulled tight around your frame, the curve of your knees drawn to your chest as if to ward off the ache. Meals were brought by your mother, her concerned eyes tracing the shadows under yours, but you waved off questions with murmured excuses about fatigue from the heat.
On the second day, a familiar voice echoed from outside.
Neteyam's, low and laced with worry. "Is she alright? I brought some healing herbs from the lowlands, they ease any fever."
Your heart stuttered at the sound, but you pressed a hand to your mouth, nodding urgently to your parents.
Your father stepped out, his voice steady as he relayed your fabricated illness. "She's under the weather, Neteyam. A stomach ache from bad fruit. Best to let her rest."
You heard the hesitation in his tone, but he held firm, and after a pause filled with Neteyam's murmured concern. "Tell her I hope she feels better soon, please."
His footsteps retreated, leaving you with a pang of guilt that only deepened the hurt.
By the fourth day, the isolation gnawed at you, the marui's walls feeling too confining.
You emerged into the dappled sunlight, blinking against the brightness, your body moving with a deliberate stiffness as you gathered a heavy basket of woven fibers for the clan's repairs. The weight strained your arms, pulling at the lithe muscles of your shoulders, but you gripped it tighter, determined to manage alone.
That's when you saw him.
Neteyam crossing the platform, his stride purposeful, the harness across his torso accentuating the powerful V of his back and the ripple of his abs with each step. His braids swung gently, catching the light, and his gaze locked onto you immediately, concern etching lines around his mouth.
He quickened his pace, reaching out with an instinctive offer.
"Let me take that for you." He said, his voice warm but edged with that familiar protectiveness, his large hands already extending toward the basket.
In the past, he'd always insisted, lifting it effortlessly from your grasp with a teasing grin, his fingers brushing yours in the process, claiming it was no trouble to spare you the strain. But now, you stepped back, hoisting the load higher against your hip, the edge digging into your side.
"No, thank you, Neteyam." You replied coolly, your tone polite but distant, the sweetness drained from it like water from a cracked gourd.
Your eyes flicked away from his, focusing on the path ahead, and you walked on without waiting, the basket's weave creaking under your effort.
He froze for a moment, his extended hand dropping slowly, confusion flickering across his features, those sharp handsome planes tightening as he watched you go.
From his perspective, the shift hit like a sudden storm. The first day of your absence, he'd accepted the news of your sickness without question, lingering outside your marui with a bundle of fresh-picked leaves that promised relief, his mind replaying the easy laughter you'd shared just nights before.
But by the second day, unease settled in his gut, a quiet worry that gnawed as he patrolled the borders, his bow slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning the treetops more restlessly than usual.
Something felt off.
When you finally reappeared, the change was stark. Your avoidance of his help, that basket he'd carried a dozen times without fail struck him like a slap. He replayed his actions in his mind. The necklace, the gifts, the constant nearness.
Had he been too forward, pushing the boundaries of courtship too aggressively? Na'vi ways were subtle, but perhaps he'd overstepped, made you uncomfortable without realizing.
Worry coiled in his chest, making his breaths shallower during hunts, his focus splintering as he glanced back toward the village more often. He didn't approach again that day, respecting the invisible wall you'd raised, but he watched from afar, ensuring the path you took was clear of roots, his golden eyes tracking your form with a mix of longing and self-doubt.
At the communal dinners that followed, you enforced the distance with quiet resolve.
You chose seats on the far side of the fire pit, your posture straight and composed, legs tucked gracefully beneath you as you picked at your portions of smoked fish and roots. When Neteyam's gaze sought yours across the flames, you met it with a nod and a smile that didn't reach your eyes. It was polite, detached, the once-affectionate “Teyam” replaced entirely by the formal “Neteyam” in the rare instances you spoke.
"Pass the salt, Neteyam." You'd say evenly if needed, your voice stripped of its former lilt, and turn back to conversation with others, your fingers twisting a vine idly to avoid his stare.
One evening, as the fire crackled and stories flowed, you glanced up to see him settling beside Kalife and another lithe female from the weavers' circle, her features soft with rounded cheeks and eyes like polished amber.
He frowned briefly in your direction after your latest dismissal earlier, when he'd offered you a gourd of water, you'd taken it with a murmured thanks and no further engagement but then he turned to them, his shoulders relaxing into the group.
Kalife leaned in to whisper something, her hand gesturing animatedly, and though he didn't laugh this time, the sight of him there with a small soft smile, surrounded by her easy camaraderie, soured the warmth in your belly. Bitterness rose like bile, confirming the whirlwind of speculations in your head.
He had something with her, or at least the beginnings of it. Why else would he seek her company now, after your withdrawal?
You'd been a fool to bask in his attention, and the realization stung, sharpening your resolve to pull away further.
Neteyam felt the shift acutely, his confusion deepening into a persistent ache. He'd sought out Kalife only for advice on a melody she'd sung, a way to perhaps share it with you later, to draw you back with something light but your distant smiles and full-name address cut deeper than any blade. He wondered if his affections had overwhelmed you, if the beads in the necklace now felt like chains.
From across the camp, he continued his quiet care. Leaving a fresh-picked cluster of berries near your marui's entrance at dawn, hidden just enough to avoid intrusion, or positioning himself during patrols to overlook the paths you frequented, his lithe form perched on a branch, bow at the ready should any danger stir. But he held back from direct approach, uncertainty rooting him in place, his mind a tangle of worry.
Had he misread your reciprocation entirely?
The thought haunted his nights, sleep evading him as he stared at the canopy, heart heavy with the fear of having lost the quiet bond he'd cherished.
Meanwhile, you carried the hurt in silence, a jealous fire smoldering beneath your composed exterior. Each glimpse of him with Kalife, her laughter ringing out during a midday gathering, his head tilting attentively fueled the insecurity, whispering that you'd never been the one he wanted, just a convenient friend in his orbit. You believed it fully now, the embarrassment of your misinterpretation locking the pain in place.
Yet, beneath it all, you missed him fiercely, the solid warmth of his presence, the way his touches had made your days brighter.
In the quiet of your marui, you'd trace the necklace he gave you, fingers lingering on the beads that matched his braids, a secret ache blooming as you wondered what might have been if you'd been braver, or if he'd ever truly seen you that way. The distance stretched, a chasm of unspoken misunderstandings, leaving you both adrift in the village's rhythm, yearning across the divide.
The days blurred into a haze of unspoken tension, the village's vibrant hum fading into a dull echo for Neteyam.
He moved through his routines like a shadow of himself, sharpening arrows with mechanical precision, his callused fingers gripping the stone too tightly, or scouting the perimeter with a bow that felt heavier than usual across his sinewy shoulders. The once-vibrant spark in his golden eyes dimmed, replaced by a furrowed brow and a jaw set in quiet frustration. His lithe frame, honed from endless hunts, seemed to carry an invisible weight, his steps less assured as he navigated the woven bridges and fern-shrouded paths.
Sleep evaded him, leaving dark circles beneath his lashes, and even the clan's evening songs couldn't coax a smile from his lips.
His family noticed the shift immediately.
Jake's sharp gaze lingered during family meals, his own broad form leaning forward with unspoken concern, while Neytiri's ears twitched at his subdued responses, her elegant fingers pausing mid-gesture as she wove nets. The younger ones picked up on it too. Kiri's empathetic tilt of the head, Tuk's wide-eyed questions about why Teyam looks sad.
But it was Lo'ak who confronted him first, cornering him one afternoon near the edge of the training grounds, where the air hummed with the distant calls of ikran.
Lo'ak crossed his arms over his chest, his lean muscles flexing under his skin painted with fresh hunt markings, his braids swaying as he cocked his head.
"Skxawng, what the hell is wrong with you?" He demanded, his voice a mix of brotherly exasperation and genuine worry, eyes narrowing at Neteyam's slumped posture. “You've been moping around like a hexapede with a thorn in its hoof. Energy's gone, poof. Spill it."
Neteyam sighed, running a hand through his braided locks, the beads clicking softly against each other. If it was any other day, he would have beaten Lo’ak for calling him that but right now, he just doesn’t have the energy for it. He leaned against a sturdy tree trunk, its bark rough against his back, and met Lo'ak's gaze with a weary intensity.
"It's her." He admitted, the words tumbling out low and raw, his throat tightening around the confession. "She... dismissed me. Cold as the deep caves. Won't look at me, won't let me help, calls me by my full name like I'm some stranger. After everything, the hunts, the necklace, I thought... I don't know. Maybe I pushed too hard."
His voice cracked slightly on the last part, vulnerability etching lines across his handsome features, the high cheekbones and full lips that usually curved in confidence now drawn tight.
Lo'ak's expression softened, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
He clapped a hand on Neteyam's shoulder, the gesture firm and grounding. "Bro, you're overthinking it like always. Guessing games? That's for dummies. Just talk to her straight up. Ask why she's acting like that. Can't fix what you don't face."
His tone was direct, laced with that reckless honesty that always cut through Neteyam's reservations, eyes gleaming with encouragement.
The advice lingered like a persistent vine as Neteyam ventured into the forest the next morning, the canopy filtering sunlight into golden shafts that danced across the mossy undergrowth.
He needed a quiet moment, away from the clan's watchful eyes, to gather his thoughts. But fate or perhaps Eywa's subtle nudge led him to you. Hidden among the thick foliage, his body low and still like a predator's, he watched as you knelt by a cluster of luminous blossoms, their petals unfurling in shades of violet and gold.
Your form was a vision in the dappled light.
Azure skin glowing with a soft sheen from the morning dew, the curve of your spine arching gracefully as you reached forward, fingers delicate yet sure plucking the stems. Your hair cascaded in loose, silken waves, catching flecks of pollen that sparkled like stars, and the gentle swell of your hips shifted with each movement, your loincloth whispering against your thighs. Beauty radiated from you effortlessly, a quiet allure that made his chest ache with longing.
He'd missed this, missed you, the way your presence lit something fierce and tender within him.
Heart pounding, he stepped forward, leaves crunching faintly under his feet, revealing himself with a soft rustle.
You startled slightly, your hand pausing mid-reach, but when your eyes flicked up, they darted away immediately, focusing on the flowers as if they held the secrets of the universe. Your tail curled tightly around your leg, a telltale sign of unease, and you rose slowly, brushing dirt from your knees with averted gaze.
"Why?" Neteyam asked, his voice steady but laced with a raw edge of hurt, stepping closer until the space between you hummed with tension. He towered gently over you, his broad chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, the scent of earth and sweat clinging to his skin from the trek. "Why are you avoiding me like this? Is it because you do not want me to continue courting you?"
The words hung heavy, direct and unyielding, his golden eyes searching your face with desperate clarity.
Shock rippled through you, widening your amber eyes as you finally met his stare, your lips parting in disbelief. The forest seemed to still around you, the distant chirps fading as his confession sank in, this was the first time the pieces aligned, his actions no longer platonic gestures but deliberate pursuits of your heart.
"Courting?" You echoed, voice breathy with surprise, a flush creeping up your neck to tint your cheeks. "You're... courting me?"
Neteyam's brows furrowed in confusion, his head tilting slightly, braids shifting like dark rivers over his shoulders. He took a half-step nearer, the heat of his body palpable, his expression a mix of bewilderment and earnest plea.
"Of course I am." He replied, tone deepening with frustration at the misunderstanding, his large hand gesturing vaguely to encompass the memories between you. "Was it not obvious? The portions I bring from every hunt, carved just for you. The woven necklace with beads pulled from my own braids, so you'd carry a piece of me? The way I linger close, touch your arm in passing, shield you from the rougher paths during patrols?"
His voice softened on the last, eyes tracing the line of your jaw, the curve of your mouth, as if memorizing you anew.
Surprise ebbed into a whirlwind of emotions. Embarrassment heating your skin, hurt uncoiling from where you'd buried it. You looked down, fingers twisting the stem of a flower, the petal's velvet texture grounding you.
"I... I thought you were just being kind." You admitted quietly, voice trembling with the vulnerability of it, your shoulders hunching slightly as if to shield your heart. "Like a brother, or a friend. After seeing you with her, with Kalife, I felt foolish for hoping more. Embarrassed that I'd misread everything."
A soft chuckle escaped Neteyam, low and rumbling from his chest, relief flooding his features as tension eased from his frame. He shook his head, a fond smile curving his lips, exasperation mingling with amusement in his gaze.
"My fault, too." He murmured, stepping fully into your space now, his presence warm and enveloping. "I should have spoken it plain from the start. You thought I didn't want you... after everything? Baby, you thought I was just being kind? Have you ever seen me do that “kindness” to anyone else other than you?"
He paused, voice dropping to a husky whisper, eyes locking onto yours with unwavering intensity.
"The gifts, the way I stay close, the way I... watch over you, even in the quiet moments? I don’t do that for anyone else paskalin, only you."
His hand lifted, hesitating before gently cupping your cheek, thumb brushing the soft skin there, calluses rough yet tender.
Emboldened by his nearness, you pressed on, the jealousy spilling out like a dam breaking. "I saw you laughing with her, blushing. Close like you shared something special. It hurt, Neteyam. Made me think you'd chosen her, that I was never the one."
Your voice cracked, eyes glistening as you searched his face, the forest's humidity mirroring the mist in your gaze.
Neteyam's expression softened further, a gentle laugh bubbling up as he drew you nearer, his free hand capturing yours.
"I wasn't talking to her like that." He reassured, tone warm and steady, laced with a hint of playful denial. "I was asking for advice. I thought maybe you didn't want me, since you hadn't said yes to my pursuits."
He squeezed your fingers, his grip firm yet yielding.
"I only want you." His eyes sparkled with mirth, the earlier confusion dissolving into clarity. "Besides, she has a mate of her own, a woman from the weavers, just as stubborn as you."
In truth, that first encounter you'd witnessed had been Neteyam pouring out his insecurities to Kalife by the fire's edge.
"She hasn't acknowledged it." He'd confided, cheeks warming under her knowing gaze as she leaned in, her eyes teasing. "What if she doesn't see me that way?"
Kalife had grinned, her full lips quirking. "Then grow some balls and tell her outright then you'll be making babies with her under the stars soon enough.'
The blush you’ve saw had been from her bold ribbing, not affection, and Kalife's reliability stemmed from her own mated life. Her partner, that pretty girl with the rounded features and amber eyes, waited nearby, their hands often clasped in quiet solidarity.
It was all platonic guidance, her experience a steady compass for Neteyam's fumbling heart.
And those frequent talks after your avoidance? More desperate queries. "Why does she pull away? What did I do wrong?"
Kalife had offered insights, her mate chiming in with nods, but in your pain-fueled haze, you'd missed the intertwined fingers of Kalife with the woman sitting next to her that you bypassed before as she talks with Neteyam, the casual leans of their shared life, seeing only threat where there was counsel.
Relief washed over you like a cool stream, warmth blooming in your chest, easing the knot that had tightened for days. Your body relaxed, shoulders dropping as a tentative smile curved your lips, the flower's stem forgotten in your grasp.
Neteyam sensed the shift, his thumb tracing your knuckles before he lifted your joined hands, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lips soft and lingering against your skin, breath warm and reassuring.
"You're mine." He whispered, voice thick with emotion, eyes half-lidded in quiet possession. "And I've been hoping you'd see it."
You laughed softly, the sound light and airy, embarrassment tinting your cheeks but overshadowed by bubbling happiness. Your free hand rose to rest against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath the taut muscle.
"I guess I was too slow to notice." You replied, gaze lifting to meet his, vulnerability giving way to joy.
Neteyam's smile widened, radiant and full, as he pulled you flush against him, arms encircling your waist in a secure embrace. Your bodies aligned perfectly, his height enveloping you, the solid planes of his torso pressing to your softer curves.
"You don't have to assume anymore." He promised, voice a low rumble against your ear, one hand stroking down your back in soothing arcs. "I'll make sure you always know."
The forest enveloped you both, a private sanctuary where misunderstandings melted into certainty, the pretty flowers at your feet a silent witness to the mending of hearts.
