as a warm welcome for us becoming mutual now (yayy) I’D REALLY LIKE TO SPILL WHATS IN MY HEADD FOR THIRST HUAHAUA please i am a HUGE fan of size difference concept and??? that one oldest sully boy??? pretty sure when he’s in 20s he’ll have the same toned buff body like his daddy so yerrr imagine that soft big boy in heat— they mated! so it does not rule out they possibly can be in heat. just, how cute it is for his eyes to see his beloved one under him, overstimulated and all after handling his needy self, and he will just, peppers kisses there and here and saying something like, “you can do it one more time again for me, right? please, baby. just one more.”
— ngl i’m not that knowledgeable about heat cycles or anything like that so i didn’t wanna get too detailed…but this is how i would imagine this happening (if he were to ever go into heat).
anyway, the idea of neteyam going into heat and needing to fuck something real bad has me salivating. like…? your body is raging with hormones and you want little ol’ me? :((
i can just imagine him being so much more vocal, more whiny—and he’s not one to whine—you know, because he’s usually too preoccupied being the brooding older brother. whining was lo’ak’s job.
but once he’s got you under him, man, he doesn’t let up. just keeps rutting into to you like he’s got something to prove, laying stroke after stroke, plugging you up with all of his seed.
you’re so overstimulated that half of the time, you don’t even know what position’s he’s got you in. suddenly, you can’t tell up from down, left from right, right from left—you’re just pliant. a piece of clay for him to mold and bend into his vision.
“you are always so good for me,” he pants, “sosososo good.”followed after, “gonna f-fill you up real nice—give you a future olo’eyktan, hm?”
omg girly the characterization on the neteyam fic was SUCH A SERVE‼️ ur so good at writing fr, also this may sound a bit 🤓 but as a non native english speaker i enjoyed sm ur choice of words i legit learned more english looking up words from ur fic than in school smh😒😒 so i just have one question, how are we feeling abt tummy bulging w neteyam?? i just think it’d be so fucking hot dayum i might have to request it when ur requests are open again
WAIT WHAAA?? this is so cool stfu!!!? but honestly i have heard that reading fanfics helps non-english speakers learn the language faster. from your ask alone, it seems to be paying off so lol!! 🫶🏽 anyway, how do i feel about tummy bulging, you ask? well lemme tell you…
+ aged up to 20, tummy bulging…yeah
i think about this a lot. like it literally consumes most of my everyday thoughts. just like?? the thought of him seeing his cock poke through your belly for the first time?? and the face he makes when he realizes he’s so deep inside—so big?? has me absolutely reelinggggg.
he can’t even fathom it, thinks he’s hurting you. but then he sees your face, all sweaty and fucked out, eyes rolled back into the back of your head and he thinks…wait, is she enjoying this?
and he doesn’t have to ponder over the thought for too long because then you’re whining and trembling, pleas of ‘feels so good’ and ‘more’ spilling from your spit-kissed mouth.
he couldn’t quite grasp it to be honest, but it excited him—and who was he to deny your requests? so, he indulges you. keeps ramming into you until you practically scratch his back raw from the pleasure.
somewhere along the way, he points it out to you. “look, can you see? i am all the way up here.” / “so tiny, i think i might break you.” let’s be clear, he’s not trying to dirty talk you—because i don’t think that boy even knows how to do that—he’s merely just making an observation.
nonetheless, though, his words make you clamp down around him tighter, and that’s when he starts to puts two and two together that you?? like the size difference?? he thinks it’s cute, and of course, uses this as an opportunity to tease you about it.
he starts rubbing the protrusion and saying things like “me being bigger than you excites you, huh?” / “‘cause i felt it when you got tighter.” again, he’s not necessarily trying to dirty talk, but it can seem that way when he’s just so…blunt about everything. it’s only because he’s just trying to understand what you like in bed ;((
okay okay, i’m sorry but i can’t get this scenario out of my head and i’m gonna make it everyone’s problem.
but neteyam and the unwanted wife trope. specifically mafia neteyam and the unwanted wife. just imagining one of his rivals saying his wife looks like a goddess in the missionary position, his rival saying this to his face because he knows neteyam doesn’t care enough about his wife’s wellbeing.
(idk if you take these kinds of ask but feel free to delete it!!)
have a happy late birthday bae 🤍
i’m digging it, i’m digging it—but the mafia bit is throwing me off…however!
+ notes: mean!neteyam, very ooc, i kinda wanna write a series on this omg…
being neteyam’s wife is not something you would’ve chosen for yourself. sure, he was handsome, intelligent, collected, and quick-witted—but he was as dull as a knife, and as mean as a viper.
you see, you weren’t his first choice either. that spot was reserved for one woman already, and no matter how hard you tried to fill in that space, you would simply never be her. he reminded you of this whenever he got the chance: walking through the village, during hunts, over dinner with his parents (albeit privately)—during sex.
you’ll never be as good as her, he’d whisper in your ear while inching his cock slowly into the warmth of your cunt, you could never [feel] as good as her. this was routine, and while his words stung like poison, you tried so desperately to convince yourself that you remained unaffected.
and so, you let him use you. let him undress your body, let him spread your legs open—let him say her name while he holds you tight after climaxing. it’s utterly humiliating, but you allow it because it’s your duty. to keep him happy.
time and time again, you surrender your body to him in hopes that he’ll change, that he’ll realize how good he’s got it—that he’ll realize how much of a good wife you are to him—but it never comes. and it never will. he knows it, you know it, and yet, you never turn him down when he comes home looking for salvation between your legs.
on the rare occasion, though, you treat yourself to a night out. away from home, away from neteyam—away from the very failure that is your marriage, and it’s encouraged. you should not let me stop you from happiness, he tells you. you are pleased to fuck whoever you want.
there weren’t any words to describe the pain in your heart when he told you this. how could he expect you to fuck someone else that wasn’t him? he was your husband—a non-affectionate one—but your husband nevertheless. did he think of you as someone who viewed sex as some sort of exchange? did he think you capable of using someone for your own pleasure?
i would never use someone like that, you tell him. i’m not like you.
his response was something you’d never forget. nor would you forget the laugh he’d let out before saying it.
there will come a day when the ache in your belly is so strong, you will no longer remember your duty to remain faithful to me.
it stuck with you. and sure enough, he was right. the day did come when you needed someone and he was not there to provide it to you. now, you spend your nights rotating between lovers, cherry-picking from men in the clan who are oblivious to your marital issues. you let them stick their eager dicks inside of you like some cheap whore, and threaten their heads if they dare tell a soul.
this was the new routine now. you’d get your nut, they’d get to fulfill their weird fantasies of fucking their beloved olo’eyktan’s mate, and neteyam gets the satisfaction of coming home to a happy wife. and this goes on like clockwork for some time, but tonight, when you’re seated for a feast across from neteyam’s childhood rival, something shifts.
“what did you say?” neteyam queries, interlocking his fingers to rest his chin on the back of his hands, eyes zoning in on the man across from him. his legs are spread and his jaw is clenched. you think his teeth’ll grind into dust with the way he’s staring daggers into the man.
“i said, your mate looks pretty when she’s taking my cock.” the man takes a swig of alcohol and laughs, a boisterous one. his buddies egg him on, ululating and patting him on the back to express their approval.
“that is enough,” neteyam stands, unsheathing his blade and pressing it to his rival’s throat. he lifts the man’s chin with the tip of the knife and speaks, “if you say another word about my mate, you will find that there will be no tongue for you to speak with again.”
everyone stops what they’re doing to look at the scene before them. some gasp, while others whisper. they know what this means.
to pull a blade on a man, is to challenge him. and right now, neteyam holds the blade.
“you must be doing something wrong if she’s begging for me to please her,” the man stands up slowly, neck still pressed against the sharp tip, “you are no olo’eyktan.” in the blink of an eye, neteyam appears behind the man and pulls him into a headlock with the knife still pressed into his neck.
“you forget your place, so let me remind you,” he starts, “you get to sleep with my wife because i allow it. tomorrow she could ask for your head and i’d give it to her on a platter. you will please my wife when she asks, and you will do it without complaint. for your sake, you will not fall from her grace, is that clear?”
when he finishes, he removes the blade from the man’s throat and pushes him down to the soil with a forceful hand. no fight had taken place, but the people knew if there had been one, neteyam would reign victorious.
neteyam sheathes his knife and takes a seat again, glaring at the crowd only once to get them to resume their idle chatter. you give the man on the ground a brief once over before taking residence beside your husband.
“you did not have to do that.”
“i didn’t do it for you,” his tone is harsh, eyes averted and shoulders hunched, elbows splayed on both of his knees.
“so then why speak for me?” you question with the tilt of your head. he sucks his teeth and lets out an agitated sigh.
“you are of my bloodline now! a sneer at you, is a sneer at me. they needed to be reminded of their places,” he seethes, “i allowed you lovers but sleeping with my childhood rival is something i cannot allow.”
“as long as you yearn for another, who i sleep with is not your concern.” now you’re angry—furious, and he can tell as much by your tone, and the way your eyes squint when you say it. but you do well to keep your composure in front of the people, and you’ve learned how to do so particularly when talking to him.
“you’re right. you’re not her, and you’ll never be her!—but you have a duty. and your duty as my wife, is to smile, spread your legs and produce sons.” you’ve heard these words time and time again, but something about them especially stings today. puts a bad taste in your mouth, makes you feel sick.
“and until you can do that, you are my concern. so be a big girl and get over it.”
uhm! just like imagining how much of a jerk neteyam would be if you were to ride his thigh. like he doesn't even have to do anything and you're whimpering and soaking him all over. "you like using me like this pretty girl?" "look at you making such a mess"
nghhh ;((
you’re all moanin’ and whinin’, clutching onto his biceps for dear life because the ache in your belly is beginning to be too much, and he just sits there…
won’t help you until you beg for it. and not even because he’s being mean, rather, he just wants to hear it from you. that you need him. so, he lets you grind against his thigh—lets you make it all sticky and wet (which’ll for sure leave a spot on his loin cloth when he gets up)—only ever offering a few thigh flexes here and there. just something to keep you moaning on him.
when you start slowing down, he asks if you’re tired, and you nod. you tell him you need him, that you can’t finish without him (his touch and voice always get you there, and right now he wasn’t providing either).
“you need me, baby?” he cups your face in his hand, thumbs soothing heated circles on the skin of your cheeks. eagerly, you nod.
“mhm…” you sniffle, all teary eyed, “wanna finish.”
and that’s all he needs to hear before his strong hands find purchase on the fat of your hips, tightening his grip so that he can maneuver you back and forth.
“i got you, baby,” he coos, “i’ll get you there, ‘kay?” you mimic back an ‘okay’, slumping into his chest.
“and then later i’m gonna give you my cock, how’s that sound?”
I saw your stepbro!neteyam blurb and let me tell you what’s been front of mind for me… imagine you and lo’ak are messing around but he’s very inexperienced and a selfish asshole so he’s never made you cum. One day Jake either walks in on you and lo’ak or overhears lo’ak and neteyam talking about sex and Jake decides to take matters into his own hands and make you feel good. It’s quite dubious but it makes me drool.
tw: pseudo-cest, age-gap (reader is 18)
i’d like to imagine after catching you and lo’ak, a few days pass in which neither of you talk about it or even acknowledge that it’s happened. there’s this weird tension in the air, and everyone’s on eggshells because absolutely none of you know how to go about it—let alone are bold enough to do so—at least, that’s what you think.
one day, jake sneaks up on you, tells you that it’s time to talk. and shit, you’re losing your mind—practically on the verge of vomiting, because you knew eventually, this’d happen. you knew it was just a matter of time before you were gonna reap the consequences, that jake was gonna sit you down and probably disown you for doing such a thing. if eywa was truly merciful, she’d strike you down here and now, so that you could save yourself the embarrassment from being shunned—exiled.
but that stern talking to never came. there was no yelling, no exiling, and definitely no tears. you were starting to get suspicious, like this was a test or something, and jake was just waiting to humiliate you—to add to the deprecation that you already were inflicting upon yourself. but that didn’t come either.
“i see you’re at that age where you’re curious,” he starts, an inkling of hesitance in his voice, “about sex.” you don’t speak, opting to sit there quietly, still—so still that it appears as if you’ve stopped breathing. apprehensively, you sink further into where you sit, letting the tips of your fingernails dig into the flesh of your palms. you’re terrified of what he’ll say next, and you suppose he can see that, which is why he takes it upon himself to make you feel a little more comfortable.
“hey, relax,” his large hand extends out, dwarfing your own, “‘m just here to talk. we always used to talk, right? it’s just you ‘n dad, okay?”
hesitantly, you nod, un-balling your hand in his. “yeah, i guess i was just scared,” you admit, looking down at the crescents littering your unoccupied hand.
“scared of what?” a silence.
“that i’d be disowned. i know what lo’ak and i did was dirty—we shouldn’t have done it, i know that. i’m sorry, so sorry, it won’t happen again,” your voice is shaken with guilt, and you refuse to look him in the eye. you think if you do, you’ll turn into a puddle of mush.
“it’s natural, you know.” a look of confusion splays across the expanse of your face. what did he say? “sex is an instinct, don’t apologize for responding to what your body wants.”
“but—“ you tense again, “lo’ak’s only a kid. if you were curious, you should’ve just come to me…” his voice decrescendos. when he finishes, you turn your head to face him, eyes flitting between his face and the thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of your hand.
“do you think lo’ak knows the first thing about pleasing a girl—a woman?” you shake your head, careening into his touch when his available hand reaches out to cup your cheek.
“exactly. but i know a lot of things, why don’t you let daddy teach you, hm? make you feel good. that sound alright?”
perv!neteyam bc no one expects the future olo'eyktan to be such a creep! accompanying you hunting claiming he’s only there to keep you safe, but really you know it’s so he can try to catch a glimpse under your loincloth whenever you (purposefully) bend over to watch prey. or when the dirty clothes you had left out go missing and show up the next day.
and when you confront him about your missing garments, he’s feigning ignorance, stuttering all over his words as tries to piece together an elaborate excuse. oh really? is all you say, circling around his still frame. that’s when you get an idea.
“if you confess to taking my cloths, i’ll show you my breasts,” you peer from behind his shoulder, settling to stand in front of him with your hands pinned behind your back. the grin you sport is devilish, trouble. he shouldn’t believe you, but he wants to. “or, maybe i’m mistake—“
“i confess.” how cute, so quick to take the bait. now he’s just standing there, waiting. eyes trained on your top, licking his lips in anticipation. slowly, you draw your hands up and make like you’re going to lift the top up, only to drop them down in the same breath.
a giggle erupts from your throat and your smile fades into a vacant expression. neteyam stills for a second time, heart beating rapidly within the confines of his chest as he watches you inch closer and closer.
“oh, poor baby,” the palm of your hand makes contact with his cheek, “you’re so cute, so eager.” he whips his head to the side, tongue in cheek and eyes fixed on the soil beneath his feet.
“do not…do not tell anyone of this,” neteyam spits, still avoiding your gaze. you grab hold of his jaw and force him to face you.
“why would i do such a thing? i’m not evil silly,” you release his chin from your hold, turning around to head back to the fortress. neteyam scoffs at that, and is about to follow your lead back to camp until you suddenly halt.
“but you owe me now,” you turn your head to the side, “you’re mine.”
step!bro!neteyam has the biggest ego when it comes to his sex expertise, and it’s incredibly frustrating. you just want to slap the smug little grin off his face when he’s pounding into you from behind, but the ego isn’t unwarranted. he’s big, and he’s amazing at what he does.
and 99% of the time, it’s a hate/angry fuck, one that leaves bruises on the back of your thighs, and your cunt quivering for hours until neteyam gets bored of aftercare, and pinches quietly at your thigh before running off. he’s a dick but he’s got a good one ❤️❤️❤️
tw: dark content, pseudo-cest
ISA PLEASEEEEEE NGH
he’d be such a little shit. always teasing you about how clueless you are about everything, and asking you if you had your first kiss yet, or if you’ve let a boy touch you. and when you tell him about a boy you’ve been seeing—god, he gets soooo mad. doesn’t speak to you for a few days after that, not until you literally have to ask him what’s wrong.
“what’s wrong? what’s wrong is you’re letting another man touch you,” he spits, “—a boy. i bet he doesn’t even know how to touch a girl,” the man leans down to whisper in your ear, “how to make her cum…”
as he’s speaking, he presses himself closer and closer to to your backside, using one hand to wrap around your chest, while the other slides down the expanse of your abdomen. you careen into his touch when you feel a nimble finger swipe over your core.
“stop talking to these boys,” he brings the slick coated finger up to your face, “you know i could make you feel good—know i could take care of this pretty pussy, know you better than you know yourself.”
Girllll shiitttt HEAR ME OUTTTT!!!! Neteyam in heat but he’s just soo soo exhausted 💔 he’s been going at it all day and that overwhelming flame is just burning away. But you’d do anything to make sure he was as comfortable as he could possibly be, he would do the same for you. Imagine riding his cock for hours on end, he’s holding your hands against his face, neck, chest… He’s tearing up from overstim but just NEEDS the release. He whines and moans and fucking thanks you a thousand times over. Desperately, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” As his hands grip your wrists so tightly. Neteyam just can’t seem to get enough friction and he’s sooo so goddamn needy.
THERES NTH FOR ME TO SAY OH GOD 🧎🏽♀️
actually i lied. i just cant get over how clingy he’d be during heat. like you said, he’s holding your hands on his face, chest, neck—the whole nine! just needs your pretty little hands on his body at ALL times.
and the overstim? nghhh i want to overstim him so bad. make his face wet with tears, eyes puffy and glassy…just wanna make him feel good and safe. let him know that i’m here and everything’s alright, that i’ll take care of him and that he can use me until he’s pumped me full of all his cum ;(
