Stoner Art

One moment, you were chasing after the sound of a bell—a clear, delicate chime just beyond the treeline. And now, the familiar voices of your family were gone, replaced by the rustling of unseen creatures in the underbrush. The festival had felt so warm, so full of life. Here, the air was thick, the silence stretched too long between every chirp and whisper.

Then, the sound of running water reached you.

Relief flooded your tiny chest. The villagers always said the river led back to town. If you followed it, surely you’d find your way home. You hurried toward the sound, stepping over gnarled roots and ducking under low branches.

But when you emerged into the clearing, the river was not the first thing you noticed.

A man sat by the water’s edge.

He was beautiful. Even as a child, you understood that much. His hair, darker than the night sky, spilled over his shoulders, and his silver eyes caught the moonlight like trapped stardust. He reclined against the smooth stones, long fingers trailing in the water, as if unbothered by the presence of a small, lost girl staring at him with wide eyes.

And then, he smiled.

“You’re quite far from the festival, little one.” His voice was smooth, rich like the hum of the earth before a storm.

You hesitated, fingers curling into the fabric of your sleeves. "I was… I was following a bell."

His expression didn’t change, but something in his gaze sharpened. "A bell?" He chuckled, low and knowing. "How strange. There are no bells in this forest."

A small frown tugged at your lips. But you had heard it. You knew you had.

The man tilted his head, watching you with quiet amusement. “Tell me, little one, are you afraid?”

You blinked up at him. It was an odd question. Should you be? The village elders always spoke of gods and spirits that dwelled in these woods, warning children never to stray too far. But as you stood before this man—this strange, beautiful man with silver eyes—fear was the furthest thing from your mind.

You shook your head.

He laughed softly. “Good.” Then, he reached out a hand. “Come. Let’s get you home.”

You hesitated for only a moment before slipping your small fingers into his. His touch was warm, his grip firm as he led you along the riverbank. He moved without hesitation, as if the forest itself bent to his will, parting the way before him.

As you walked, he asked you questions. Simple ones. Your name. Your age. If you liked the festival. If you enjoyed sweets. You answered eagerly, the nervous edge in your voice fading as you spoke.

He listened.

No one had ever listened to you like that before. Not the other children, who only wanted to play rough games. Not the adults, who often brush you aside with distracted nods. But he—he made you feel important. As if every word you said mattered.

When the village lights finally flickered through the trees, disappointment stirred in your chest. You didn’t want to say goodbye just yet.

The man knelt before you, his silver gaze holding yours as he brushed a stray leaf from your hair. “I will ask something of you, little one.”

You tilted your head. “What is it?”

His fingers ghosted over your cheek. “Promise me.”

“Promise what?”

“That you’ll always return to me.” His voice was gentle, but something deep beneath it coiled tight. “That you’ll be mine, forever.”

You blinked at him, puzzled but unafraid. It sounded like a game, like when your friends made pinky promises by the river.

So, you nodded. “I promise.”

For the first time, his smile reached his eyes. But the glint in them was something you wouldn’t understand until years later.

“Good girl.”

Then, the festival bells rang, and the world blurred.

When you turned to thank him, he was gone.

The festival was already in full swing when you stepped back into the village. Lanterns swayed gently in the evening breeze, casting flickering patterns across the packed earth. The scent of roasted chestnuts and sweet rice cakes filled the air, and the laughter of children rang out as they ran through the crowded streets. It should have been comforting, familiar.

But something felt… different.

Your hand was still warm from where he had held it.

You glanced back at the darkened forest, half-expecting to see those silver eyes watching from the treeline. But there was nothing—just the rustling of leaves, the whisper of wind through the branches.

“Where have you been?” Your grandmother’s sharp voice snapped you back to reality. She appeared through the throng of people, worry etched deep into her face. “I told you not to wander off. Do you know how dangerous it is to go near the mountains alone?”

You opened your mouth to tell her about the man by the river, about how he had brought you home safely. But the moment you tried to form the words, something stopped you. A strange pressure, a weight on your tongue, as if speaking of him would break something fragile and sacred.

So instead, you shook your head and muttered a quiet apology.

Your grandmother’s fingers gripped your wrist tighter than necessary as she pulled you back toward the festival. “You must never go there again,” she warned. “No matter what.”

But you had already made a promise.

And deep in the woods, under the silver glow of the moon, a god smiled.

The years passed.

The seasons changed, the festivals came and went, and the village continued to thrive. But something about you was… different. The boys in your village avoided you. Not out of cruelty, but something deeper, something instinctual. Even those who once played alongside you as children now hesitated to meet your gaze, their hands twitching with nervous energy whenever you came too close. The few who dared to approach were quickly met with sickness, misfortune, or strange accidents.

The only exception was him.

He was always there, waiting in the woods just beyond the village. You weren’t supposed to go near the mountain, but somehow, your feet always found the path leading back to him.

It started with stolen afternoons. You would slip away after lessons, past the watchful eyes of the elders, and run to the river where he always waited. He never called for you, never beckoned you forward, but he didn’t need to. You always came.

He listened to your stories, his silver eyes never straying from your face. When you laughed, his lips would curl into something unreadable. When you cried, he would touch your cheek, his fingers cool against your warm skin. He never asked for anything in return.

Not yet.

But his presence was intoxicating. Comforting.

Yours.

Until the day they took you away.

It happened quickly. One moment, you were walking home from the woods, your heart still racing from your latest meeting with him. The next, your grandmother was gripping your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as she whispered hurried prayers under her breath. Your parents were there, too, their faces tight with something you didn’t understand. There were no explanations, no time to argue. Just hurried steps, packed belongings, and a carriage waiting at the village gates.

The other elders stood in the distance, their gazes cast downward, their hands gripping charms and talismans. They wouldn’t look at you.

You struggled. You cried. You begged them to tell you why.

But it wasn’t until you saw the thick paper talismans plastered across the door to your home that realization set in.

They knew.

And they were taking you away from him.

Your screams echoed through the village as they forced you into the carriage, your nails clawing at the wooden frame. You didn’t care about the strange looks from the other villagers, the hushed whispers behind their hands. All you knew was that you had made a promise, and they were breaking it.

The last thing you saw before the doors shut was the treeline. The shadows between the trees shifted, moved, as if something—someone—was watching.

And then, the silver of his eyes, gleaming with something dark and terrible.

And then—nothing.

The city was loud. Too loud.

Even after years of living there, the endless noise of car horns, chatter, and the hum of electricity never settled right in your bones. The air was thick with something artificial, something lifeless. The sky never seemed as wide, the stars never as bright.

At first, you fought against it. You clung to the memories of your village, of the woods, of him. But time had a cruel way of dulling things. The face of the god by the river blurred at the edges, the warmth of his fingers against your skin faded to a ghostly sensation, the sound of his voice—once so clear—became harder to recall.

You moved on.

You made friends, explored the city, built a life that had nothing to do with the mountain. And for a while, it was enough.

Until the letters started coming.

At first, they were harmless. News from your uncle, brief mentions of the village, how things had been difficult but were getting better. You barely paid them any mind, offering polite responses in return.

Then, the tone changed.

The village was suffering. Crops withered before they could be harvested, livestock fell ill, and the number of stillborn children had risen to something unnatural. They needed you back—for the festival, for a ceremony only you could lead.

You ignored it.

But the letters kept coming, each one more desperate than the last. Until finally, your uncle arrived in the city himself, standing on your doorstep with weary eyes and hands that trembled as he held out the final letter.

You read it.

And the moment your fingers brushed against the parchment, something shifted in the air.

The scent of damp earth filled your nose. The faint, almost imperceptible sound of a bell chimed in the distance.

And suddenly, the city didn’t feel so safe anymore.

Returning to the village was like stepping into a memory that had been left out in the rain—warped, faded, wrong.

The streets were quiet, the colors muted. The children who had once been your playmates now peeked at you from behind their mother’s skirts, their eyes wide with something too solemn for their age. The elders barely acknowledged your presence, their hands clutching charms so tightly their knuckles turned white.

Your grandmother’s house was the same, but the moment she saw you standing at her doorstep, her expression twisted into something unreadable.

“You should not have come back.”

But it was too late. You were already here.

That night, you lay awake in your childhood bed, staring at the ceiling as the wind howled through the trees. The house creaked, the wooden beams groaning as if something pressed against them, waiting—watching.

And then, through the open window, a whisper.

"You promised."

Your breath caught in your throat.

You sat up sharply, heart pounding as you turned to the window. The forest loomed in the distance, dark and endless.

You told yourself it was your imagination.

But you knew better.

The next morning, before the sun had fully risen, you found yourself walking the familiar path to the mountain. The villagers didn’t stop you. They didn’t even look at you.

The forest welcomed you back like you had never left.

The trees were the same, the river still carved its path through the land, the scent of moss and damp earth filled your lungs. And at the heart of it all, standing just beyond the threshold of his temple, he was waiting.

He was different. The softness of his features had sharpened, the playful glint in his silver eyes replaced with something unreadable. His presence felt heavier, denser, as if the very air bent to accommodate him.

You hesitated.

And then, he spoke.

"Come back tomorrow morning."

You swallowed.

You should have refused. Should have turned back, should have walked away.

But you didn’t.

Because despite everything—despite the years, despite the distance, despite the way your stomach twisted in something dangerously close to anticipation—your feet remained planted in place.

And deep down, you already knew.

You would come back.

You returned the next morning.

And the morning after that.

It became a routine—waking before the village stirred, slipping away before anyone could stop you. Each day, you climbed the path to his temple, and each day, he was waiting.

At first, he only watched. Silent. Unmoving. His silver eyes followed your every step, his presence weighing on your skin like a second layer. You talked, filling the quiet with idle conversation—about the city, your life there, the people you met, the things you learned. He listened, never interrupting, never reacting.

Then, slowly, something shifted.

His silence gave way to words. He asked questions—about your time away, about the world beyond the village, about why you had taken so long to return. His voice, rich and low, wrapped around you like silk, threading through your thoughts, lingering long after you left.

And then, he touched you.

It was subtle at first. A brush of his fingers against yours when you handed him something, a fleeting touch against the small of your back when guiding you up the temple steps. But his hands were warm—too warm—and each time he touched you, something inside you tightened, curled, craved.

The forest changed, too.

The trees stood taller, their leaves greener. The river ran clearer, its waters shimmering under the sunlight. Even the village below seemed to breathe easier, as if your presence had soothed the unseen rage that had gripped it for so long.

But the biggest change was him.

He smiled more, spoke more, let his gaze linger too long. He was indulgent, affectionate in a way that made your skin flush. Yet beneath it all, beneath the warmth, the softness, was something else. Something hungry.

You should have been afraid.

But you weren’t.

You should have left.

But you didn’t.

Because each time you stood to go, his fingers would catch your wrist, his touch firm but unyielding. And though he never outright asked you to stay, his silver eyes always whispered the same thing.

"Don’t go."

The night before the festival, the storm came.

The winds howled through the village, rattling windows and tearing through rooftops. Rain poured in heavy sheets, drenching the earth, turning the roads into rivers of mud.

And when morning came, the mountain path was gone.

A landslide had blocked the only way out, cutting you off from the world beyond the village.

You barely heard your uncle’s reassurances. He claimed the roads would be cleared soon, that it was only a temporary delay. But you knew better.

This was no accident.

He wasn’t letting you leave.

And deep down, a part of you wasn’t sure you wanted to.

The festival began at sundown.

The village gathered at the foot of the mountain, their voices rising in an eerie, rhythmic chant. The firelight cast flickering shadows against their faces, turning them into something unfamiliar, something devout.

You stood at the center of it all, dressed in the traditional red attire they had prepared for you. The fabric clung to your skin, the intricate embroidery swirling around your body like flames. Your fingers tightened around the offering in your hands—the best produce the village could gather, though it paled in comparison to the ones you had tasted in the city.

None of it mattered.

Because as you climbed the mountain, as the torches lining the path flared brighter with every step you took, as the air thickened with something electric, something expectant—you knew.

This had never been about the village.

It had never been about the crops, or the prosperity, or the suffering they had endured.

This was about you.

And him.

The temple was waiting.

The offerings from dawn still sat upon the great stone table, untouched, pristine. But the only thing your eyes focused on was him.

He stood at the entrance, dressed in godly white, his ink-dark hair cascading over his shoulders like a river of night. The contrast was striking—too perfect—the divine purity of his robes only emphasizing the darkness in his gaze.

He was watching you.

Waiting.

You stepped forward, one foot in front of the other, your pulse hammering against your ribs. Every part of you screamed to stop, to turn back, to run.

But you didn’t.

Because the moment you met his gaze, a heat bloomed low in your stomach, spreading like wildfire through your veins. It was intoxicating, overwhelming—an ache so deep, so consuming, it left you trembling.

Your breath hitched.

And he knew.

The eerie smile that curved his lips was slow, knowing, filled with a satisfaction so deep it made your knees weak. He reached for you, his fingers brushing against your cheek, your jaw, tilting your face up toward him.

And then he whispered, voice rich with something dark and unshakable—

"You are mine."

The torches flared.

The wind howled.

And as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the depths of his temple, into the depths of him, you knew—

There was no escaping this.

There never had been.

The doors of the temple shut behind you, sealing out the world beyond. The air inside was thick—humid, charged with something unseen, something alive. The torches lining the walls flickered, their golden glow casting restless shadows against the stone.

His fingers trailed down your arm, slow, deliberate. His touch burned—not painfully, but with an intensity that made your breath come quicker, your skin hypersensitive to the smallest movement.

"You hesitated," he murmured, his voice impossibly smooth, impossibly deep. He stood close, too close, his presence consuming every inch of space around you.

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You had hesitated. For a single, fleeting moment, you had thought about turning back. But what use was hesitation now? What use was resistance when his very presence unraveled you, thread by thread?

He didn't need an answer. His silver eyes gleamed with something dark, something possessive, and you knew he had already decided your fate long before you ever stepped into his temple.

"You promised me." His thumb brushed against your lower lip, a touch so light it sent a shiver down your spine. "You belonged to me the moment those words left your lips."

You remembered it—the promise made in childish innocence, spoken in a voice too young to understand the weight of such words. And yet, even then, even in those fleeting moments, hadn't you felt it? That strange pull toward him, the way his presence had made the world feel smaller, as if nothing outside the forest had ever truly mattered?

"I waited." His voice was steady, but there was something dangerous beneath it, a tension so sharp it could cut. "I waited as you forgot me. As you let your thoughts be filled with others. As you tried to build a life that did not include me."

His fingers slid beneath your chin, tilting your head back, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"Did you truly think I would let you go?"

The air felt thinner, your knees weak. The answer was already clear. You had known it the moment you stepped foot back in the village. Perhaps, deep down, you had known it all along.

His lips curved into a slow, cruel smile.

"You will never leave again."

His arms encircled you, his warmth engulfing you completely, and the last threads of resistance inside you snapped.

And as his power wrapped around you, seeping into your very bones, your thoughts blurred, twisted—desire intertwining with surrender, need overtaking reason.

The festival chants echoed in the distance, voices raised in worship, in offering.

But the only thing that mattered was him.

And the inescapable truth that you were his.

Now and forever.

—

The temple was silent, but the silence breathed.

It coiled around you, heavy and cloying, pressing against your skin like unseen hands. The torches along the walls dimmed, their flames shrinking as if bowing to his presence. The air itself felt thicker, charged with something oppressive—something hungry.

His arms were still wrapped around you, his grip firm but unyielding. You had always known he was strong, but now you felt it—the raw, unnatural power that lurked beneath his touch.

"You’re trembling." His voice was smooth, indulgent, but there was something dark beneath it, something that made your breath catch. "Is it fear?"

Your lips parted, but you had no answer. Because it wasn't fear, not exactly. It was something deeper, something more primal. A shudder ran through you as his fingers traced a slow path down your spine, and you swayed without meaning to—drawn in by the heat radiating from him, by the way his presence filled every empty space inside you.

He laughed.

A quiet, satisfied sound, as if he already knew.

"You still don’t understand, do you?" His fingers ghosted over your pulse, lingering at the delicate skin of your throat. "What it means to be mine?"

His grip tightened—not painful, but firm enough to remind you.

"Your body recognizes it before your mind does," he mused, tilting his head. "That pull. That ache. The way you want even when you don’t know why."

His lips brushed your temple, a mockery of tenderness, and a rush of warmth spread through your veins—too much, too fast, leaving you lightheaded.

"That’s my influence," he murmured. "My power inside you, working its way through every part of you. You can feel it, can’t you?"

You could. It was in the way your thoughts blurred, in the way your body burned, in the way your knees threatened to give out the longer he touched you. It was wrong—too much, too unnatural—and yet, you needed it.

The realization sent a ripple of dread through you.

He noticed.

His smile widened, his silver eyes gleaming with something almost fond. "Good. I want you to feel it."

His hand drifted lower, brushing against the curve of your waist, his touch featherlight but all-consuming. "I want you to understand."

The temple doors rattled, as if some unseen force was pressing against them. The air thickened further, the walls seeming to close in, and a strange, distant hum filled your ears—low and rhythmic, almost like a heartbeat.

No, not yours.

His.

"You are changing," he said, almost lazily, as if he had all the time in the world to watch it happen. "Every moment you spend here, every second you breathe this air—it binds you to me. More and more, until there’s nothing left of the person who thought she could leave."

Your stomach twisted. The weight of his words settled deep, and yet—you couldn’t move away.

Didn’t want to.

Your fingers curled against his chest, and he sighed, pleased.

"See?" His voice was almost gentle now, almost affectionate. "You’re already learning."

You should have fought.

But his warmth was sinking deeper, crawling beneath your skin, settling into the very core of you. His hands on you weren’t just touch—they were commands.

And you were listening.

"You think I will be merciful," he mused, running a hand through your hair. "That's because I have waited, I will take my time, let you adjust, let you resist just a little longer."

His fingers tightened in your hair, forcing your head back, and your breath hitched as you met his gaze.

He wasn’t smiling anymore.

"I won’t."

The temple groaned around you, the very foundations trembling beneath his will. A gust of wind rushed through the chamber, snuffing out the torches all at once, plunging the room into near darkness.

Only his eyes remained, gleaming silver in the dim light—predatory, absolute.

"You are mine," he whispered, his voice laced with something ancient, something terrifying.

And for the first time, you realized—

You had never truly been given a choice.

The ritual, the offering, the village’s desperate prayers—none of it had ever been for them.

It had always been for him.

To bring you back.

To keep you.

Forever.

And as the last of your resistance crumbled, as the god before you claimed what was his, the final thread of your past life snapped.

The girl who had left this village all those years ago was no more.

There was only you.

And him.

And the inescapable, cursed covenant that bound you together.

—

tbc.

—

noirscript © 2025

Hypnos

A lonely god who rules over sleep and dreams, and ushers the death to their rightful places. Fingers spinning on their own as he gifts humanity a little paradise. Affectionate, while being pushed away. Loyal, to everyone he gifted a part of his soul to and unbelievably patient as soon as the right conditions have been met. A chthonic god of the old time against a lowly mortal. O he would worship them, if only they would promise to do the same. Let him lavish them in all the gifts he and his realm have to offer.

They will never leave him dreaming alone again.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Even though, it had become normal to him at this point, Hypnos could not deny how giddy he felt whenever you actually leaned into his touch. He was used to you simply slumping – courtesy of him putting you to sleep. But this! This was something entirely different. He pulls you even closer, trying to nuzzle at your hair, and sighs. This is the best thing ever! You realize sooner or later that Hypnos always tries to have a hand on you. Touching your arm, holding onto your sleeve like a child, playing with your fingers. In some way, he is always touching you. On his moodier days, he will just grab you – around your waist, or clasping your arm tightening his hold whenever you try to wriggle away. When he doesn´t play with you like that – distracted, making sure that you are still here – he has the the tendency to drape himself over you. Resting his chin on your head, while he hugs you closer to him. He and his cape completely dwarfing you. If you complain, he will instead pull you into his lap, daintily crossing his legs in the air, as he hovers and adjusting you. It´s nice. At least it can be. He also leans against you. All the time. For such a wispy thing, he can actually be quite heavy. When you complain to him about it, he apologizes. But soon he will unbalance you instead. Pulling you in, for you to lean against him. You gave up at one point. Got used to your weight not being entirely carried by yourself. You will ignore how he blushes and giggles. What else can you do?

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

It is not the first time that you cried because of them – Hypnos knows that. Still, he will make sure that it will be the last time. Your sobs heaving through you, as anguish seems to roll over you. You nearly tear your blankets – desperate to find something you can hold onto – as you keep crying. Heaving. Breath short. Whimpering, as tears simply won´t stop falling. Hypnos does not watch you suffer like this for long – even though you are still beautiful, even like this – before he offers his blessing to you. Your face goes slack, as your breath slows and your tears stop. Your dreams will be comforting and soft now. They on the other hand will not feel nearly as safe as you do right now, when they find themselves in his domain. Hypnos is not a physical god. He does not enjoy the smell of blood or the feeling of it on his hands. Instead, he will do what he does best. He will let his victims dream. Nightmares will haunt their every step. They won´t find any rest with him. His revenge is slow and careful. The dreams he haunts them, spun from their deepest fears, will send them reeling. Afraid to close their eyes. Avoiding him, even though they do not even know it is him they fear. He sends their hearts racing and their thoughts spinning. It will not take long before his brother will visit them after another frightful night.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

His cadence is cute, sweet – it makes you sick. His grin only widens, when you glare at him. Hypnos words are casually cruel. Cutting through your confidence with ease, while they don´t even seem to take any effort out of him. Another cruel joke escapes him with a saccharine giggle and he waits. Expecting your response – you can´t tell if he waits for you to laugh or to cry. You try to give him neither. He never stops. Whenever you fight the constant lethargy off that dogs your every step since you knew him, he mocks you for it. You fall harder and harder every time. His remarks grow sharper and his jokes become even more cruel. Taunting. Mocking. Unaware? You can´t tell. Another taunt. Another condescending smirk. He belittles you. His grin as bright and sharp as always. His voice painfully cheerful. He doesn´t know, does he? His sharp grin, that widens when you flinch tells you otherwise. When the next cruel joke on your expense lands, you respond. You laugh or cry. You can´t tell.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

It comes slowly, that is the only reason you don´t panic immediately. You don´t know that it is happening. But you feel exhausted, tired, drowsy, half-asleep. At this point, you couldn´t even panic any more even if you wanted. You are fast asleep before you can complain. Falling back into his arms – both metaphorical and quite literal – as he pulls you closer to him. Hypnos hums slowly. He loves you like this. Completely under his command. Your sleep and your dreams are his domain – his to dole out, his to soothe you with. „Mine, mine, mine“ He sings it lowly to himself, giggling, even though he knows that no one can hear him. He lets his hands wander while you sleep. Gently tracing your shape, slipping his fingers below your clothes. Caressing. Almost like a lover would – he is your husband after all. He ca not resist to press kisses upon your face and upon your mouth. For just a moment, he slips his tongue inside – allows himself to lick your teeth, before pulling away to lick and kiss his way down your neck. It is hard for him to pull away from you. Maybe next time. When you awake again, you´re more annoyed with him than afraid. You grouse and curse, as you try to push him away. It is amusing to him, the face you pull when he cheerfully tells you „Sounds like someone needs a nap!“ You both know that he´s warning you. It would be nice, wouldn´t it. For you to be always with him. It would be so easy too. Just a simple kiss, a little intent. O the wish alone would suffice for him to pull you under. Sleep Incarnate could keep you asleep forever. Your mind and body forever in his grasp under his guidance. He tells you as much. You pale. He chuckles.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He keeps prattling on. You have stopped actively listening to him a while ago. His words just white noise, that is soothing. You enjoy how his voice waivers and breaks. The high pitch and the shakiness. It´s ridiculous how sleepy, this voice can make you. You yawn, and let your body go completely limp. Your weight is easily caught by him. He is not surprised – only a slight giggle disturbs his voiced stream of consciousness – as he resumes flitting from one story to the next. Hypnos is gentle as tucks you closer to him. His hands soft and fluttering around you, as spreads his cloak, tucking you into its folds, and letting himself melt closer to you. He gently cards his fingers through your hair. You sink deeper into him, into his capable hands, as he soothes you. Lazily beckons you to close your eyes and let him lead. Though you wake with a start, when he suddenly goes quiet. When you look up at him, he is looking straight ahead. Looking at nothing. His eyes wildly flickering from side to side. Unseeing. Wide and glassy. It frightens you. When he open his mouth again, his voice is slow. No inflection, that just leaps from word to word. There is nothing at all. He isn´t giddy. He isn´t playful. Just empty. He talks about how cold Nyx can be, about how his masters temper is easily roused. But mostly he talks about how cruel his twin is without even realizing. You don´t even know, when you start to weep for him. Tears running down your cheeks, and you try to reach out for him, but before you´re even can he catches your hand. His smile is gentle and fragile. With a low coo Hypnos wipes the tears from your face, as he starts to babble again. Like nothing happened. He soothes you, with his voice, his emotions. Wild and cheery. And it works.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

The smile on his face is a tense thing. He knows that it wraps his face. It also tends to look more like an ugly wince, than a kind and understanding smile. You keep screaming. You have not even stopped in the last few minutes to breathe – or at least it seems so. Hypnos knows himself – and his own expressions – well enough, to be aware that he looks more delighted whenever the master of the house scolds him, than whatever his face is doing while you are screeching. His patience for the noise is quickly dwindling, as he can´t bear it any longer. It finally snaps, when you try to move further away from him – trying to get to the entrance of his home while looking at him. Hypnos smile tightens and he raises an eyebrow. You ignore this silent warning of his, and keep moving. Still screaming. Still trying to fight something, you never had a chance of winning. With a tired sigh, he flicks his fingers in your direction. Hypnos knows his work, and its no challenge for him to pull you under. To subdue you and quench your anger. You look surprised at this. Eyes wide. Terrified. Terror rolls of you in waves, before you suddenly grow lax. He does not put any effort into catching you. Letting you drop on a bed of poppies. His hands are already weaving. Pulling together strands, that will teach this lesson he wants to impart on you. Freedom – away from him: That is a dream he will not let you have. Under his hands it will become your worst nightmare. Hypnos is willing – and more than capable – to stomp out this hope, before it can even develop. He knows he is. He looks up. Absentminded counting the cracks on the ceiling, before he hefts you up to lay you to rest among the pile of pillows that makes up his bed. He hates this fight with you. Hates the way you whimper in your sleep. Hates the way you shiver and pant. Terrified. Plagued by a nightmare. But he can not deny that he loves the way you reach for him. Hypnos lets himself be pulled in. Intertwining his fingers with yours. His dreams hard at work to ensure, that you fighting him, will never happen again.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

He sees you how try to run from him again. Try to slip past him, as he tends to his duties. His back turned to you. Hypnos loudly clicks his tongue and you freeze. For a moment you are still, staring at him like a caught rabbit. He simply waves his hand, asking you to come to him, as he softly starts to explain his work. You are shaking – obvious in your fear. He ignores it. It will fade. „You know, you don´t have to be my partner, my spouse, my equal.“ He also ignores how hopeful you suddenly look. „The way you act, it seems you merely want to be my lover. Mine to hunt down and play with until you break“ The hope on your face is gone – Hypnos notes, faintly amused. He does not really listen as you try to verbally backtrack. He knows how to nod along and hum in all the right places. „I can treat you like my lover. Gift you eternal sleep. Forever under my domain.“ Hypnos stops to look at you „Or you could stop trying to run from me, and let me be your husband. Devoted to you.“ His grin is not nice, he knows. Too sharp. „Your decision!“ You are awfully pale, but he does not mind, as you come to stand beside him to watch him work.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Pink poppies started to haunt your every step. It took you a while, but when the realization kicked in, so did your fear. This is the work a god. You know it is. It´s something cute. Something that brings you joy, which tells you that this isn´t the anger of a god. It is something so much worse. It´s a god who adores you. A god that fell in love with you. And it scares you. It terrifies you. You know what usually happens to the mortals that the gods adore. Not heroes but mortals like you. Someone completely insignificant except for the god they unknowingly enticed. People like you were assaulted, stolen and killed. The love of a god is something to fear. You don´t know where you can hide, to where you can run. You don´t even know who you would be running from. Though the poppies and the lethargy, that just won´t leave you – the drowsiness you can´t get rid of – clue you in. He is relentless, when he shows himself to you. Ashen skin and golden eyes. Undeniably chthonic and hovering – just there. Wild white curls fluttering, even though there is no breeze. Still something carries his voice across to you, nothing more than a whisper „I love you“. It´s a dream. You know, that he is not really with you, but you are in his domain anyway. Everything is hazy, fleeting, and he is there. He haunts you every time you close your eyes. And you know he won´t leave. He won´t let you be. The smell of poppies surrounds you when you wake. Beckoning you back into his arms, but you fight it. Pull yourself out of bed, even though your bones feel heavy. You stumble and sway, and it isn´t long, that you can refuse his call. You sleep. The next time you wake, the smell of poppies is not the only thing that surrounds you. You are bedded upon them, and when you right yourself, for once you don´t feel tired. An ashen hand sneaks around you and pulls you back down. When you turn, you only see golden eyes. His voice wavers, his inflection is strange. „You and me, beloved. For an eternity“ Your stomach drops. The hand that patted your cheek is undeniably clawed. You suddenly know why he is the twin of death. You want to wake up, but know that this god in front of you has not caught you in his domain – just in his home. You are already awake. And he smiles at you – sharp and sweet – and you are terrified.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Whenever Hypnos thinks of the future it is nothing more than a fleeting dream. He can never quite catch more than a faint impression, before it flees his hands again. His sister do not like it, when he comes around asking questions, when they have not called for him. He knows this, and yet he still weaves himself a dream, and they sigh, but use his threads regardless. He knows. He can feel it. Hypnos longs to feel connected to someone. He wants to hold someone. Brush against another's hand absentminded. Kisses soft as a butterfly´s wing exchanged. Whispers and sighs wafting through the air like secrets. With you, he knows he found that someone. To sit next to, to adore. Simply being with you, as time passes. When you slip into one of his dreams, he wants to be the one to hold your hand. Hypnos never wants you to feel lonely, when you travel through the lands he built for you. He wants to guide you, and to feel your hand in his own, when he follows you into your dreams. Never alone. Always traversing his domain, his lands, together. Reassured. Belonging. He wants to hold you tightly. Weave another dream, with your voice whispering into his ears. Hypnos for the first time, in what feels like eternity, has found something that can be solely his and he wants to keep you and be kept by you. An unit. Inseparable. Hold and be held. That is all, he asked of his sisters and with you, they have delivered him this gift.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Hypnos watches you. Some part of him is always tuned in to you. Keeping watch. You are o so fragile. Terribly mortal. And so he looks out for you. Clings to you – calls out for you – so he can stay with you. No one approaches you. Not with the way you look. Sick, tired – deep purple marks have made their home around your eyes. But sometimes he will catch the edge of a fleeting dream from you. About that shepherds boy with the bright smile, about that bakers daughter with the beautiful voice. His smile isn´t that bright when it slowly turns brittle, as he starts to jump at every little shadow. Her voice isn´t that beautiful, when it shakes with heaviness, breaking every time she opens her mouth. They beg him for help. He doesn´t. You don´t notice – or he rather hopes – you don´t care. No mortal will match him. He knows, as he clamours for your next fleeting dream. Letting their smile become sharper like his. Their skin paler like his. Their voice closer to his own. When he brings you home on the other hand, he guards you fiercely. Hypnos snaps at his brothers to stay far away. He is your newly wedded husband, and he will make sure that you can get used to everything in peace – or so help him! It is his job as your spouse to take care of you, and for him that includes making sure that you fall in love with him. Hypnos can´t deal with these distractions on top of everything else going on. While he doubts you would fall for Charon – considering that only few people can actually understand him – Thanatos is a whole other problem. He will have to exercise his patience to meet you, because Hypnos won´t relent. He was far too often second choice to his twin. He will make sure that this won´t happen with you!

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Hypnos has draped himself over you again. He is not really heavy, especially considering his size. At least not at the moment. You know that he is levitating again. Taking care to support most of his weight by himself so that he doesn´t burden you too badly. After all you collapsed under him more than once already. He is babbling non-sense. Jumping from one topic to the next, without any sense. At least it seems that way to you. Maybe there is some sort of connection for him. If he wasn´t sounding so chipper, you would have thought that he was sleep talking. This also wouldn´t be the first time that it happened. But something about the way he clings, the way some of his comments sting make you believe that he is wide awake. His smile hides something sinister. Something – you are pretty sure at least – you would have never noticed, if he hadn´t outright threatened you several times by now. He stops again. One of his pauses, that seem to linger. They allow heavy and dreadful thoughts to creep into your mind again. The quiet gives you too much time to contemplate, you fear. Quietly, you stroke his arm that has been laid across your chest. Hypnos lets out a confused grunt, before he stutters back to talking. An awfully mean quip about one of his brothers, startles a laugh out of you. You will never learn to expect these. The longer Hypnos chatters on, the more settled you become. When you slip into dreams, his voice slowly putters out, before he finally grows quiet. You don´t hear the tired sigh, or feel the grin he presses to your neck. Only silence surrounds you, blanketing you both, as he relishes in the quiet.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Hypnos starts with what he knows best. He shows you his most important craft – his beautiful domain. He courts you with the dreams he starts to fashion for you. Every single one hand-picked by the one who weaves them in the first place. He doesn´t leave anything to chance or your own imagination any more. He builds you palaces, stories, and worlds. Delighted by your laughter and the way your eyes glow with emotion. He is careful and yet ruthless. He knows your every desire. Your dreams crafted to fulfil them. He fulfils them, and it couldn´t be more satisfying. When you crave a lover in your dreams, he will gladly offer himself. Kissing you, loving you – that is no hardship for him. When you crave someone to confide in, he will lend his ear. Listening attentively, keeping your secrets close to his chest. When you crave someone who could be the other half of your soul, well, he is already there. When you wake up, there is a bright red poppy laying next to you. The wind must have carried inside, you think, as you simply sweep it up. Not even thinking twice about it. Or that the window was closed when you fell asleep.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

It´s the warmth of his smile that lures people in. The grin that he practised in front of the mirror without anyone knowing. The quilt around his shoulders that lets people assume that he is a lot shorter than he actually his. He towers over most people, but laid back into his quilted coat that hardly seems to be the case. Even you fell into that trap. You forgot the ache in your neck from looking up at him, when you saw how small and soft he looked tucked into the same blanket he carefully tucks around you. His hands move in the same lazy manner when he weaves. It doesn´t matter what he is weaving. A pleasant stroll through the gardens. A prophetic dream. A gift from a god. A chase, that ends with a monster rendering you limb from limb. You can never tell, what he is creating. His hands always move in the same manner. Mild-mannered is what you would call Hypnos, if you hadn´t seen how his face sometimes tightens. A cruel glint to his eyes that he waves away. You also dismissed it. It didn´t fit his lackadaisical manner in the first place. His voice wavers, while he moves in a rather sedated manner. He doesn´t need to run. Hypnos never needed to chase after the ones he wants to hurt. He simply has to wait. Sooner or later, they will yield to his tender mercy anyway. In dreams, it is always a challenge to defend, to attack. Whatever he wants to happen, will happen. He is sharp and ruthless. Full of edges that cut. Hypnos is more than aware of this. He covers his sharp edges with a vapid smile and a wavering voice. With jokes and quips, that let others simply roll their eyes at him. He hides in a quilted cloak, and lazy movements. But Hypnos weaved every single dream, that was delivered. Every one of them.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

You would have never thought you would find yourself in a situation like this. A chthonic god turning the corner, the red skirt of his whipping around, and he floats away in a frenzy. The shout that had ended your one-sided screaming match with him, still echoing in your ears. I wish you would leave me alone! You never thought, he would actually turn around and leave. You stare at the spot where he had been. He had simply puffed up. His golden eyes swimming with tears, turned around and left. You shake your head slowly. In the end, you don´t even notice it at first. Hours pass and you don´t even feel drowsy – something that hasn´t happened in what feels like ages. For once you truly feel awake. But then more time passes. Your awake for one day – then two. On the third you already regret it all. You hear voices that aren´t there, see shapes that don´t make any sense. The waking world slowly turns into a living breathing nightmare to you. And then it hits you. He left you alone. He pulled away from you in all forms. He followed your wish. It doesn´t elate you this time. It takes surprisingly little, before you kneel at his feet – head pressed to the ground. The third day hasn´t even ended. You beg him to soothe you, to bless you. You beg him for his blessing – like the god he is and the mortal you are. You´re crying. When a gentle hand pets your hair, you look up. Weeping. You came here kneeling like his worshipper. In your moment of need you turned towards him with tears in your eyes and he just smiled at your apologies – at your begging. He pulls you gently up by your arms. Lowers you into his lap, as he reclines in the air, and simply presses a soft kiss upon your brow, as you collapse. You ignore his grin, as you finally are allowed to sleep again.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

He is weaving again. Twisting his fingers through the air, as dreams slowly come to life under his careful eyes. You watch him and with a faint terror, one that accompanies you for a long time, you realize that some of these shapes seem almost familiar. Like you should know them by now. His voice is soft, while his grin and eyes are sharp – just for a moment but long enough for you to notice. He whispers as he explains your dreams to you. Twisting the threat of them through his fingers, curling it around his own. Your sleeping mind nothing more than a breakable string in his hands. It belongs to him. You can see it clearly and for a just moment he lets you know it too. You consider raging against him. But his eyes flash cruelly towards you. And his voice turns into a hiss as he reminds you what lays outside his home. You can hear the river Lethe ringing in your ears, when he shuffles over to you. Drops down on his knees and pulls you down with him. He hugs you close and nuzzles into your hair before his hands go back to his work and he soothes you with his drowsy voice, simply mumbling about the dead he shepherded into their places. Your dreams spin around his fingers as he keeps weaving and you know that there will no way to escape. Not in death. And not in sleep.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Hypnos watched quietly as you laid your head down. His dreams – all his little gifts to you – slowly sinking into your mind, as you loose yourself in his grasp. He sighs happily. Burrows down deeper in his cape as he simply looks at you. The gentle rise of your chest. The quiet snuffling and stuttering of your voice. The way your limbs suddenly spasm every now and again. The twisting and shuffling. The beating of your heart – undeniably loud in his ears – that beats a heavy rhythm. One that he cannot deny brings you closer to death with every beat. He shudders, his face wet with tears – he does not know when he started to cry – as he scrambles towards you. Your heavy heart still beats a heavy rhythm. His hand snatch you, his fingers nearly burrowing into you. You nearly wake – his dreams dissipating – before he wraps new strings into your mind and simply pulls. You fall with him. The smell of poppies everywhere, as he slowly calms again. He sighs for a moment – annoyed with himself – before he simply tucks you into his blankets. He hums when he throws his coat over you. Floating in his space, he simply resumes to watch you, and suddenly the beating of your heart does not seem that heavy any more. But why would it? You are already in the underworld now. And Hypnos? He has all the time he could ever need now to watch you – to guard and love you – as you twist around again. Still dreaming peacefully, having now woken once.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

You consider killing yourself – either drinking one of Hypnos opiates so that your body had to give out or trying to drown you in the river outside – but the way he simply watches you, stops you. There is no urgency to him – not that there ever truly is – but he seems calm. His smile amused. He stretches slowly reaching for a bottle and holding out it for you. He waves it slightly towards you, „My strongest. A drop mixed into wine is enough to sedate a group of men.“ It´s obvious to both of you, that drinking this undiluted would kill you. Quickly. Maybe even painless. His grin only widens. You look away. It´s not like death would save you from him either. No, you only would be stuck in the underworld even more securely. Maybe you will find the courage to make the journey back above one day. Maybe one of the gods will take mercy on you and send some great hero to save you from this place. Unlikely. But it´s a possibility. Death would only turn you into another shade and you doubt that this god would act any differently around you. No, you are pretty sure, that Hypnos would simply continue with his routine of fussing over you, as if nothing had happened. You sigh. Tired. You observe your husband in his weaving. Dreams fluttering around his fingers, as he slowly breathes life into them. Shaping them. It gives you a headache trying to figure out what exactly he is doing, when he makes his dreams. It doesn´t resemble any craft you saw above. But it seems to take some concentration. Quickly and quietly you stand up. Now or never, you think to yourself. The poppies covering the cave floor mute your steps, as you near the way out. The questioning hum, tells you that you drew his attention. But when you break out into a run, something already hits you in the back. For him, it only took a flick of his fingers to catch you in one of his dreams. You stumble back. So, so tired. But as you fall, strong arms catch you, as he lowers you back to the bed of poppies. It surprises you, that you don´t fall immediately into sleep. Instead your mind putters around the edges of awareness, as he starts to pet you. „You know“, the laughter is barely hidden in his voice, „no one will come for you.“ He sighs. „Though mother wants to meet you. She wants to meet the one, that makes her son so happy, she said“ Hypnos leans down to kiss you. Sweet and short. But he lingers. „I´m trying so hard. They won´t help you. I have done everything to make sure of it, you know? My brother and Lord Hades value a diligent worker, so I became one and credited you for this change. My mother wanted a dutiful son. You made me one, didn´t you?“ He kisses you again. „Mother Nyx says so. Not even Lord Zeus would fight her, you know?“ Hypnos giggles. Delighted. Amused. You know that he won. The next time, he presses a kiss to your lips, you try to reciprocate. Sleep claims you, before you can figure out what this glean in his eyes means now.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Sometimes Hypnos looks at you and wonders if he should feel guilty for stealing you, but then he sees you smile in your sleep and the thought vanishes again. He can´t feel guilty for what he did. Not when he was rewarded so generously. Every day with you feels like a gift to him. It makes him wonder, if this is what his sisters had planned for him all along. He doesn´t know what the string looks like they have spun for you. If you were destined to suffer or live a long and happy life. It doesn´t matter any more. He won´t let it. On the other hand, it could also be that his sisters had spun your thread for him alone. That the fates had put you into his path. A present for their brother. He chuckles to himself. As if! They would never care about him like that. To spin such perfection solely for him. He keeps pondering your fate for a while longer but gives up all soon. Hypnos doesn´t really care. It´s not part of his domains, nor part of his job. Who truly knows what your fate was? His sisters. Obviously. But considering they haven´t started angrily knocking at his door yet, demanding that you will be returned to the surface, it doesn´t matter. He sighs content to watch you for a while longer. It truly seems that you were the one for him after all. Lazily spinning dreams between his fingers, before he blows them away. He knows they will arrive, where they are needed. How could he ever feel guilty about this? This peace. This quiet love. He could never.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

He is alone. But that is nothing new. At first, only denied affection by his mother. Then his brothers followed, and at last the rest of the underworld. Hypnos is used to sleep away his day, to throw himself fully into his realm and into his work. Strands of dreams twirling across his fingers, as he gently guides shade after shade – poor dead souls caught in eternal sleep – towards their places. Of course he watched your dream. He weaved, knitted and knotted them together for you. Just like he does for everyone. The sudden emotions that came over him – he won´t blame anyone for them, least of all Eros. He is sure, that they came from his own mind. After all, he always adored affection itself, so how was he supposed to refuse, when it sparked in his own chest. And of course he needed you then, couldn´t bear to see you fall into the hands of one of his brothers, who had already deserted him. Couldn´t refuse the call – the want to steal you away. He adores you. Hypnos wants to endear himself to you, and now he has all the time he could ever need. He wants to watch you, reside by your side, guard you when you are at your most vulnerable. You just have to be together. That is all it will take. He wants for you to soothe his fears and if you do? He would do anything you could ever want for you. Tend to your every need. Spin the nicest dreams. It is so very little that he demands from you, so why don´t you just stop fighting for now. Simply close your eyes, and dream a little dream. He made it. Just for you.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He is watching, hands uselessly fluttering around, as he wonders if he should try to touch you right now. You are heaving. Sobs shaking through your entire body as you start keening. Your voice breaking, as you mourn something that can never be returned to you. Hypnos still dithers on the spot. One hesitant step forwards, only to move back again when you glare at him with wet eyes. When your gaze lowers again, he can feel himself relaxing. He had not even realized that he was afraid right now. His fingers twist and almost unconsciously he started weaving. He hates that he is the cause of your tears, but looking down at the strings he sees a solution putting itself together. His twisting becomes more purposeful, as he silently watches you. You are too busy to notice anything, but the way your chest contracts with another pained gasp. Your worries will be soothed with another spin, another flick. He always could craft dreams quickly. It will be a gift to you. Something to soothe. Something to charm you. To take your mind away from grief and lead it back into comfort. To make you forget. And when you sleep you can simply rely on him. He will be the one that tends to you. He will. He will. Promise.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Hypnos is fussing. He knows it. You know it. The shades outside the cave know it! No matter what he does, he just can´t keep his hands still. You still haven´t awoken yet, after he brought you here. Another curious shade pokes its head into his home, but flinches back when he growls. You´re not hurt. He knows this. He feels how your mind is just peacefully settled between the palms of his hands. You´re just not ready to wake up yet. It makes him nervous. What could keep your mind so busy? Maybe something went wrong after all, and he just doesn´t know it. In his anxiety he starts to fluff up the blankets surrounding you again. It´s supposed to be something simply to keep his hands busy. He wonders if he should indulge in some of his opiates to calm down his irritated nerves as well. But it doesn´t work. He is still a nervous wreck. Later he will learn that it will take centuries for him to calm down around you. In that time, he will flutter around. Hands never staying still, as he fusses with your clothes and absentminded grooms your hair, pulling knots out with lazy fingers. Hypnos will prove to himself that is far more patient than he ever thought, when he burdens your abuse – a retaliation against him that no one can or should shame you for or they will have to fight him – with an understanding nod and gentle words. Your nerves are shot and you are usually even more uncertain and jittery than he is. He knows though, that his nerves are just from him never having someone, from the novelty of this relationship – yours on the other hand are from terror. It makes him gentle. He will stay nervous, when he introduces you to his family. He is proud to claim you as his spouse, and it brings him joy to play the role of a caring and soft husband for you. He treats you like the young spouse – compared to him – that you are. He is patient with you, even under the added stress of carrying the burden of introducing you to them. He whispers jokes and reassurances into your ear, when you flinch away from Thanatos cold eyes. You try to find the usual comfort in him, like he planned, and he gives it to you. He holds you up, when you face Nyx, even though his own knees feel weak around her. Softly, he translates, when you can´t understand Charon. „Must be hard to be suddenly married into a family like this, huh? Hah! I can tell you it´s not fun!“ It´s a whisper, like a secret he can only share with you. You stay close to him because you know that he never had been anything but gentle. Hypnos makes sure that his movements stay slow around you. Terribly obvious. He desperately tries to not startle around you. Keeping himself slow and sleepy, no matter what happens. Even if you try to run from him, he will simply flick his fingers out to catch you in his dreams, instead of bodily throwing you down. In your dreams he keeps courting you with beautiful crafted dreams. In your waking world he still carters to your every whim. He makes himself into something caring, as he tends to you. Hypnos becomes truly soothing to you – he had never been allowed to be. Always soothing, till you have no choice but to fall for him again and again.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

There is no way out of the underworld once you are there. You know this with an unwavering certainty, as you look around the cave you woke up in. Very few heroes ever managed to make the journey back to the surface. Absentminded you pat some of the poppies that made up your bed back down. You won´t delude yourself; You are not one of them. Could never be one of them. This is a not story where the hero returns back to his weeping mother. For a moment you wonder, if you could have avoided this fate, if only you had been more cautious while he approached you. But you didn´t know. You didn´t recognize the man that seemed to appear in every last dream of you as a god. Didn´t recognize the poppies that always bloomed around you for what they were. The danger, they truly presented. You just adored their colours. You never even thought of running. And now that you are here, you will never have the chance to run ever again. A distant humming slowly grows louder. You heard it before. In your dreams. It isn´t long before the man of your dreams comes to a standstill in front of you. He crouches down, his feet only now touching the ground to look at you. A red sleep mask keeps his white curls in check, and the scent of poppies only grows stronger when he reaches for you. „Did you sleep well, love?“ The pitch of his voice is more familiar to you than you would have liked. His smile is sharp, as his lazily track your every movement. You know this man. You also know what he wants. After all, a lot of your recent dreams featured this particular man as your lover. So you simply smile at him, lean into his touch, and agree with him. His smile only brightens, as he presses a simple kiss to your brow and sighs „I´m glad“ against your skin. He continues unprompted „Whatever you desire, tell me, and it shall be yours. Just stay here. With me. That is all I want“

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Hypnos is a rather laid-back guy. At least he thinks so. He never severely curses someone and whenever he does put someone to sleep against their will it had been to help another person. So, he would say, that he is a rather gentle god. He doesn´t enjoy bloody vengeance and doesn´t dole out more than a few bad dreams, when he is bad-mouthed by mortals. It doesn´t even concur to him, you think, that he slowly drives you insane whenever he pouts. He pulls away from you. Unwilling to entertain you and bless you with his gifts. It means for you that you are not able to sleep. No matter what you try. You whimper, as your mind continues playing tricks on you. Your body close to giving out. Everything in you screams to rest, but Hypnos still pouts. You know that you can´t hold out much longer, so you try to appease him. The dreams that haunt you when you finally convince him to kiss you, are horrible. They make you far too aware that no matter how cuddly and soft Hypnos appears to you that he is still the god of sleep. That he is still god that half of your life belonged to, when you were mortal. Now, your whole life belongs to him. You wake up sobbing, reaching out for the only one that can help you. Hypnos indulges you like always. Draws you closer to him, as he wraps his coat around the both of you. Compared to your nightmares – which only show you what kind of horrors he could inflict upon you with ease – this is almost nice. It´s no hardship to kiss his cheek and lean against him more heavily. Especially with how delighted he giggles afterwards. Appeased for now.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Even before Hypnos made the conscious decision to steal you away from your mortal life, he had already started to carve out a place for you at his side. He pulled some of his more playful and sentient dreams aside, and whispered to them about his future spouse. When he saw his brothers again, he carefully mentioned your name in relation to his. It was with a new bravery he stepped into his mothers path to give her the news of his marriage. Hypnos makes sure that you are already known to the people – to the gods – that surround him. He sends out dreams to mortals of you at his side. It will be the reason that people will depict you with him on vases and in poems. Everyone that comes into contact with him, will soon know of his love to you. It´s a whisper full of love that he will gift to you, that will be the cause of something far greater. As your husband – maybe even lover soon – it is part of his gift to make you into a god. One that works close to him. Taking charge of some of the dreams he knitted together and even weaving some of your own that he will bring to mortals begging for their blessing. Slowly he chips away at your mortal soul till only the divine is left – till all that is remembered is not the fragile mortal that you were, but the god that you became at his side. You become a god that cannot be separated from Hypnos any more. Always loved by him, always found by his side. You are his godly spouse and he makes sure that this is known to everyone that will cross his path. It doesn´t matter if they are willing to listen to him or not, he will tell them regardless.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Hypnos knew that he needed to have you, when he saw you for the first time. Worried, he patted over his body – afraid that he might have been it by an arrow of Eros – but couldn´t fight anything. He fell hard and fast, and quickly assured himself with feelings all of his own. At first he tries to be patient. To court and play with you. But before he could even truly begin to sweep you of your feet, he was reminded of your mortality. Blood. Red and sticky, welling up between your fingers. You ignored it – lowly cursing under your breath – as you kept working. For you this was nothing worth mentioning, a small annoyance. For him, it felt like his world just shattered apart. Hypnos snatches you soon after. He steals you away from your life. Breaks your mortal shackles and hordes you to himself. He hides you away at home, where you will become untouched by time for as long as he lives. His brother will not come for you here. Afterwards, he slows down. He pulls his coat tighter around your shoulders, as you sleep. Burrowed deeply into his nest of blankets. He fusses with them, trying to accommodate you in every shape and form. He watches you. The last traces of anxiety slowly draining from him. He is your husband from now. The thought almost makes him giddy. Instead he just lowers himself to the ground and quietly traces your face with his fingertips. He sighs. Content. Hypnos can´t even remember the last time he felt truly peaceful. He is sure that you will share a future with each other. Smiling he pulls his hand back. He can´t wait to actually get to know you. Maybe you won´t feel the same as him, but he has all the time he could ever wish for now.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

If Ao'nung would have known his life would have ended up the way it is, he would've prayed for a miracle from the Great Mother and forgo courting all together a long time ago.

But maybe praying to the Great Mother would have never helped, it was Her that put this small, tantalizing tawtute in his life, and it was She that gave said tawtute her chosen mate before Ao'nung could have even met her.

Ao'nung firmly believes that he's being punished for all his scandalous and rude ways in his youth, being shown the torment he showed others when he'd spend a night in their bed only to never speak with then again, to act as if they didn't exist. Much how you treat him now.

All he wants is a glance, a single dart of your eyes in his direction. Just once. Recognize he's sitting across the way from you and acknowledge that you too wanted more from the glorious taste he was so generously given.

Ao'nung knows it's not truly you that's avoiding him, your distracted and cautious ways have Neteyam and his possessiveness written all over you. Like he's taken paint and written the word 'MINE' across your body, showing Ao'nung how easily your attention and desires can be directed else where with just a few gently whispered words from Neteyam.

If his punishment was you and his inability to have you, then Ao'nung's doomed.

His every thought at every waking minute is filled with you. Your kind eyes, your satin skin, your softly curved body and small hands. He replays the images of how you were spread and pressed against his body, how you sweetly moaned into his ear, singing your praises to him. Everytime he remembers the way your hand felt massaging his tswin his cock twitches, instantly tenting his tewng, making him crave your sweet taste on his tongue as he desperately fists his cock.

Ao'nung curses himself for desiring a simple taste so much. He could have just been left to his thoughts, eventually moving on without ever knowing how good you actually are. That the image of your small, pretty pussy stretching out over Neteyam long, thick cock wouldn't immediately come to the forefront of his mind when he sees the two of you together. That his ears wouldn't ring with your desperate moans and Neteyam's barely controlled groans everytime he hears your voices in the wind.

Ao'nung wants freedom from the hell that's now his mind, to be free of the bone deep void in his chest and stomach that makes his body constrict inward when the mere thought of being a stable in your life passes in his mind late in the night.

Was there something wrong with him? Something that drives Neteyam to be so overly protective over you, that fuels him to keep away from Ao'nung at all costs? Neteyam even switched to a different hunting party after the night in the meadow.

Neteyam was beyong angry with him in his youth when he and a group of his friends had left Lo'ak to die in the middle of the ocean, thankfully he didn't, but Neteyam's silent anger still brood heavily towards Ao'nung for a long time after. It's only in recent years that Neteyam has become friendly with Ao'nung again, willing to make a friendship after so long.

It was at that same time that Ao'nung's love for you started to blossom, reaching it's peak with every passing day. Considering how Neteyam acted when he caught Ao'nung spying on them, he never hid his infatuation with you well, and now Neteyam's making damn sure that Ao'nung's love for you stays where it's at: in his heart where it's meant to stay.

Ao'nung wanted to be angry, to fight for you and call Neteyam unfair for not giving him a chance to court you, plenty of couples take on a third. But Ao'nung can't blame Neteyam for his protectiveness, you were the only thing Neteyam had for himself from what Ao'nung could see. Ao'nung may have been his family's disappointment when he was young, but now he's entrusted to one day lead his people with all the grace of his father and strength of his mother.

Ao'nung quickly noticed how too Neteyam filled that role in his family, that being the oldest took the toll on Neteyam the same it does for him, that the sacrifice of the oldest son meant never truly having anything for yourself. You are that one thing Neteyam has, and here Ao'nung is, trying to take the one thing Neteyam wants all to himself. Ao'nung would fight to keep you to himself too.

A wave of water splashes over Ao'nung's face and chest, knocking him out of his thoughts instantly as he gasps, wiping the salt water from his eyes. Ao'nung whips around on his tsurak, glaring at his idiot best friend snickering behind him.

Drifting his tsurak closer to Ao'nung's, Rotxo shakes off the last bit of water on his hands at Ao'nung, causing him to hiss at Rotxo. "Will you focus, please? I have been cooking in the sun for hours waiting for you to finally snap out of whatever is bothering you so you can help me lead the hunting party."

Ao'nung pulls out his crossbow from it's pocket in the saddle, checking it over longer than he actually needs to, loading a bolt into the notch, pulling the taunt string back to rest against the trigger, ready for use. "I am helping, and nothing is bothering me." Ao'nung mumbles, cutting a death glare towards Rotxo.

One of Ao'nung's childhood friends laughs as Ao'nung rings out his hair, flicking the extra water at Rotxo, "He is thinking about that vrrtep like always. Imagining how Toruk Makto's son mates with the alien." he jeers, laughing at his own joke with the other hunters.

Ao'nung bites back a growl, wishing he could aim the crossbow at him and force him to take back the vile word he used to describe you and what you and Neteyam do in the privacy of your own home.

"You would do well to remember who you are talking to, Ärnìlu." Ao'nung grits through his teeth, drawing his shoulders up and straighting his back to sit at his full height, towering over his former friend.

Ärnìlu shrinks down into his saddle, petting his mount to hide his cowarding. Ao'nung's angered expression however doesn't stop Wateek from speaking his mind, "What happened to you swearing you would have that tawtute when we were young? Did the forest boy scare you?"

A heat settles in Ao'nung's chest, a flash of red blinding his view for just a moment, reminding him of him of the rage he harboured for many years. His mount starts to move forward towards Wateek, but Rotxo's hand squeezing his shoulder stops him.

"Nìtam, ma Wateek," Rotxo reprimands, putting himself in between the two men, directing the rest of the hunters off. "Go to the east and form a barrier near the the shallows."

Once the hunters go as commanded, Rotxo's concerning gaze settles on his best friend. "Ma tsmukan, is it the tawtute that is bothering you again?"

Ao'nung sighs, it's impossible for Ao'nung not to spill his guts to Rotxo about everything, including what happened between the three of you in the meadow. "No, Ro', I am fine." Ao'nung lies, testing the tauntness of the string on his crossbow, preparing to follow after the other hunters.

Rotxo squeezes at his shoulder again, "No, go home and rest, I will lead the hunt from here."

Guilt curdles Ao'nung's stomach as he watches his friend burden his problems with him. "Kehe, ma tsmukan, I cannot–"

"Yes you can. And you will. If your father hears of how you are behaving..." Rotxo trails off, heaving a heavy sigh at the thought of getting in trouble for harbouring Ao'nung's secrets with him.

Ao'nung pats Rotxo's hand still resting on his shoulder, "Irayo, ma Rotxo."

Disconnecting his tswin from his tsurak, Ao'nung dives under the water, letting the lukewarm water wash over him, drowning away his loud thoughts for just a moment before he breaks the water's surface, crawling on land and flopping on the sand. The sun warms his skin, drying him off as he lays almost lifeless on the ground, any motivation to get up is still in the water with the rest of his sanity.

Children's laughter filters through the air, Ao'nung's ears twitching at ever high pitched squeal from a young girl not far away. Soon more laughter joins the young girl, small yelps following the laughter every so often.

Ao'nung covers his ears, the cheerful laughter like nails against slate rock to his ears. Sitting up, Ao'nung hides his head between his knees, angered at himself for feeling irritated at someone else's joy.

A familiar giggle drifts through the air, tickling his ears enough for him to lift his head, shifting his ears to hear it better. The laugh sounds out again, followed by a cheer of victory, "GOOD JOB, TUK!"

Ao'nung jumps to his feet, practically sprinting to the nearest treeline with a trail of sand following him. Crouching behind a thin bush, Ao'nung feels a sense of deja vu viewing you like this again, watching as the youngest Sully daughter runs to you followed closely by Tsireya, holding a fresh bundle of seaweed in her hands, showing it to you and Kiri with excitement. You gently pet her face, beaming at her with such pride, like you were watching your own child succeed in their first time deep diving for seaweed.

Warmth fills Ao'nung's chest as you put the seaweed among the rest, starting a seperate pile for Tuk. The two girls sit with you and Kiri, beginning to dry out the fresh seaweed and start weaving the dried materials, sorting beads and token items around you.

Ao'nung rests his head in his hands, "Great Mother, what am I doing?" he asks himself, even he was growing tired of obsessing over someone that clearly doesn't want him. Creeping on you and your family doing simple chores while he should be providing for his people.

"I've been asking our Great Mother the same question for a long time."

Ao'nung whips around at the familiar deep timber that sounds from behind him, almost losing his balance as he uses the tree he's hiding next to as support not to fall straight on his ass. Collecting himself, Ao'nung looks behind him, meeting Neteyam's intrigued golden eyes that's staring back at him.

"What– w-why are you–" Ao'nung stammers over himself, startled from how silently Neteyam had snuck up on him.

Neteyam shifts slightly, resting his shoulder against the tree by his side, crossing his arms over his toned chest, tight abs moving as Neteyam fights to hide his laughter. "That never gets old."

Ao'nung couldn't stand to have Neteyam look at him like he's nothing more than the sniffling idiot he's presented himself as in the last few months, straightens his back and pushing his shoulders back as he copies Neteyam, resting his shoulder against the tree he was hiding behind. "Ma Neteyam, what can I help you with?"

Neteyam keeps his expression neutral, dark golden eyes scanning Ao'nung like a he's prey caught by his predator, his full lips perching in thought for a moment. His eyes trail down, scanning over Ao'nung's broad shoulders and chest that's decorated with his hunting attire, abs moving with every barely concealed pant Ao'nung is trying to hide, wide tail nervously flicking behind his strong, thick thighs.

Neteyam looks back up into Ao'nung's crystalline eyes, pupils narrowing at the lavender blush that's dusted across his face as Ao'nung breaks eye contact, looking anywhere but into Neteyam's judgemental gaze. "Why her?"

Ao'nung's ears lay flat at Neteyam's question, the familiar bite of guilt nawing away in his gut. The pain Neteyam must endure to ask such a question so calmly almost scares Ao'nung, how composed he can be in the face of the man chasing his mate with such disrespectful desperation.

Ao'nung forces himself to look into Neteyam's eyes, swallowing the tight lump in his throat, "I love her for the same reason you do: because she's good. Out of all the people I have met, and all the horrible things that have happened to us, she is still good and kind to everyone she meets, even me."

Neteyam scoffs, "I love her for so much more than just her goodness." Neteyam moves from his place, taking slow steps towards Ao'nung. "I fought for our love, I lost my title before we even moved here so I can be with her. My mother threatened to kick her out of the clan."

Neteyam stops right in front of Ao'nung, unintimidated by the slight height difference as Neteyam pushes at Ao'nung's chest making him stumble back into the tree behind him, Neteyam grabs at his cummerband, pulling him so close his nose brushes against Ao'nung's. "I have sacrificed everything for our love, and I will not let you break her heart because of your infatuation."

Ao'nung growls, taking a hold of Neteyam's cummerband to push him back enough to stand straight again. "It is not an infatuation, I am in love with her!"

Neteyam snarls, "Tell me how. How do you love her?"

Ao'nung's chest tightens, the heat in his stomach boiling painfully as the mix of anger and desire bursts at the seams. "I love her because if it was not for her I would still be the raged filled moron of my youth. She made me want to change and I did, I wanted to make her proud. And now I'm here, making a complete idiot of myself only weeks after begging on my knees for a simple taste from a her mate, now arguing over my love for her."

The small woodland area around them is silent, the world going still as Neteyam stares Ao'nung down, his harsh gaze unwavering for what feels like hours to Ao'nung. Neteyam's eyes flicker across Ao'nung's face, examining every inch of him for any signs of a lie, waiting to see the old Ao'nung resurface so he can call out his bluff.

Neteyam let's go of Ao'nung's cummerband, taking a step back, allowing Ao'nung to finally breathe as he releases Neteyam's cummerband aswell. "You certainly have changed."

Looking down, Ao'nung clears his throat, praying to the Great Mother that this torturously awkward situation will end and he can go back to his home to sulk. "I give my word as future leader, I will not bother you or your mate again."

"Don't make that promise just yet, Ao''."

Ao'nung's head snaps up, brow bone scrunching together as he stares confused at Neteyam. "Why? Is my word not enough?"

Stepping forward again, Neteyam's chest meets Ao'nung for just a moment, making him instinctively back into the tree again, staring wide eyed at Neteyam as he comes closer and closer, practically sharing the same breath as Neteyam grabs a hold of Ao'nung's cummerband softer this time, pulling him to be flushed against his body.

"The price for having her is having me aswell."

Ao'nung is surprised in himself when his stomach erupts into nervous excitement at his words, not fighting the grip Neteyam has on his cummerband, head dipping to meet Neteyam's gaze.

Neteyam's hot breath fans over Ao'nung's face, plump lips just brushing against his. Ao'nung's heart is beating so hard he's sure Neteyam can feel it through his ribs, a heat settling low in his stomach as Neteyam teases his lips across his, laying a gentle peck on his lips.

Ao'nung never imagined he'd be here, caged against a tree by Neteyam's strong body, sharing just barely there kisses with the man he once despised in his youth. Neteyam is an incredibly attractive man, a skilled and powerful warrior that treats mostly everyone with kindness, most of his anger being directed at Ao'nung as of late. But now he's willingly sharing the same breath with him, yearning for Neteyam to lay a full kiss against his lips.

Before Ao'nung can pull against Neteyam's surprisingly iron grip and get the kiss he wants so much, Neteyam pulls back, holding Ao'nung in place as his thumbs runs across his bottom lips, soothing Ao'nung when he frowns at his refusal of a kiss.

"Do you want her again?" Neteyam's words barely register through the thick cloud of lust fuzzing Ao'nung's thoughts. Ao'nung quickly nods when Neteyam tugs at his cummerband. "Then do me a favour, sweet boy."

If you could, you'd throw your husband into the ocean. Just throw his big, overly protective and cockblocking ass into the water and drown him.

You love him with every fibre of your being, your days and nights filled with endless love and support, sacrifice after sacrifice being made so you could live your life in peace with the love of your life by your side, but because of all the things you've been through, Neteyam has become possessive of you, bordering on territorial some days.

When you first came to Awa'atlu there was no peace for you or your family, constantly being judged from how you looked, how you act, your customs and differences of upbringings. And Ao'nung was the worst of them, a never ending stream of insults and bullying directed at your siblings.

You fought your every instinct not to kick him in his shins and instead took the high road, favouring in either ignoring him or being nice to him while Lo'ak would into fist fights that Neteyam would have to break up.

It's only in the last couple of years that he's become tolerable, eventually learning he was actually a decently good person under the tough guy act he'd put up for his friends. Neteyam even got over his harboured anger for him and tried to grow a friendship with Ao'nung. In the last few months though, Neteyam began to withdraw his friendship, muttering things about how much Ao'nung would stare at you.

You thought Neteyam was being paranoid until you started paying attention, watching Ao'nung as much as he watched you, the man wasn't very discreet. It was becoming more and more obvious that Ao'nung was holding a small crush over you, something you found hilarious at first considering how much he loathed your entire existence when you were young.

As time went on, the idea of Ao'nung crushing on you became appealing, it wasn't uncommon for couples to take on a third, even Neteyam thought about it when you were first mated when he was growing curious about his sexuality. When you brought up the idea to Neteyam, he absolutely refused it, still untrusting of Ao'nung's cruel ways from years ago.

No matter how much you tried to change his mind, Neteyam wouldn't budge, more often than not choosing to distract you before you could begin your ranting, reading your mannerisms like an open book.

You were shocked when Neteyam told you he heard Ao'nung watching the two of you, and you absolutely floored when he silently asked if you wanted him to join, thrilled that just maybe he had built up his trust in Ao'nung, only for that thought to be destroyed the moment Neteyam opened his mouth and nearly threatened the poor man.

Now weeks later, Neteyam is still refusing to allow you to pursue Ao'nung, never admitting he actually likes Ao'nung like you know he does, hiding his attraction in favour of ignoring the chief's son all together.

Your fingers play with his long braids, your other arm holding his shoulders against your chest so he can lean against you more comfortably, your back pressed against a tree as Neteyam lays in between your spread legs.

"Nete," you purr into his ear, moving from playing with his braids to scratch at his scalp, kissing the tip of his ear.

"No." Neteyam doesn't even look up from his carving to see the immediate scowl his answer puts on your face, one hand leaving his project to squeeze your thigh to soothe you.

You get up from your position behind him, pushing his heavy weight off your chest so you can face him head on. "I didn't ask for anything." you complain, trying to catch his tail to show your annoyance, but he moved it quickly out of your way.

"You didn't need to ask me anything, Yawne, your thoughts betray what you're thinking, I can smell you." Neteyam tells you, tapping his curved carving knife against your inner thigh as a tease, the cold blade making you jump.

"Why won't you at least try to trust Ao'nung? He isn't the boy he was when we came here, he's a mature man that wants the type of love we have." you reason, scooting closer on the sand so you can rest your hands on his knees.

Neteyam puts down his project, sighing. "It's for those reasons I can't trust him; he loves you. Which means he will only want you, I will be nothing more than a inconvenience to him."

Your heart breaks as you see the corners of his mouth drop slightly, a pout settling on his lips before he quickly wipes it away. It took you too long to realize that though Neteyam may not trust that Ao'nung has fully changed, he's always likes Ao'nung even through all the ups and downs of his youth. And now he's afraid his feelings would be rejected, that his hard ways with Ao'nung have stopped any chances of the Metkayina male from ever loving him back.

"Nete," you cups his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. "You can't push people away because you're afraid of rejection, if Ao'nung doesn't like you, then that's that. He's never mentioned again. But if he does, you could be pushing away someone that can grow to love you so much."

Neteyam's beautiful, round yellow eyes stare into yours, contemplating your words. His gives you a small smile, turning to kiss your palm, "Tuk and Kiri are waiting for you, they want to collect materials for a present for mom."

You frown at his clear avoidance of his feelings, his bigger hands wrapping around yours, helping you up and bidding you goodbye, watching you round the bend towards the inner part of the village.

Your thoughts are filled with reruns of your conversation with Neteyam all day, only able to focus a few minutes at a time before you're thinking of a different way you could've approached the subject, made the conversation easier for Neteyam to open up to. Buy at every new thought, you find yourself at the same outcome: Neteyam dodging the subject all together.

Why did he have to be so stubborn? Yes, Ao'nung was a complete ass in our youth, but he isn't that boy anymore. Yes, you understand why Neteyam's so protective of you, but does that mean he can't open up to the possibility of new love? Maybe you need to console someone with everything, you could always trust Kiri with anything, especially if it involves Neteyam.

The day crawls by, simple chores feel like they take forever to finish, exchanging pleasantries with the girls as Tsireya teaches Tuk to deep dive now that she's old enough to collect seaweed that grows in the deeper portion of the reef by herself.

Neytiri has been feeling homesick lately, missing her mother most of all. So Tuk and Kiri wanted to distract her with some gifts made from the reef, changing out her older jewelry to match the new environment she's in.

"What's the matter?" Kiri questions, twisting two strands of dried seaweed together as Tuk splashes back into the water.

"There was seriously nothing that got past this woman." you think to yourself, spreading out a new bundle of seaweed, setting it in the sun to dry and keeping eye contact with the ground.

"Nothing's bothering me, I'm fine." you lie, pretending to ponder what beads you want to use for the bracelet you're making Neytiri.

Kiri hums, clearly not convinced. "So you acting distracted has nothing to do with Ao'nung following after you and Neteyam at the celebration a few weeks back?"

Your fingers lock, dropping the beads in the sand as you gaping at Kiri. "How did– who told–"

"Yawne," Your dumbfounded mumbling is cut off by Neteyam calling to you as he walks towards you and Kiri. Neteyam crouches behind you, kissing your ear before greeting his sister, "Meet me at the cove, we're having an early date night. I have a surprise for you." he whispers to you quickly before standing to keep going about his day, cheering Tuk on when she shows him her catch.

You avoid Kiri's knowing gaze as Neteyam walks away, focusing solely on gathering the beads you dropped and beginning to weave Neytiri her gift, praying Kiri doesn't ask anymore questions.

You practically run to your home when Tsireya suggests a break, giving quick goodbyes and dashing home, depositing the half finished bracelet in a chest by the back wall, closing it securely to ensure nothing gets lost. A neatly folded pile of clothes sitting on your shared hammock catches your eye.

You pick up the delicate fabric, holding it up to the light to examine the deep purple and lilac tones mixing together with the deep green seaweed holding everything together, fingering through the thin weaved details.

You quickly take off your shorts and tanktop, slipping into the new top and loincloth set, admiring the finely woven clothing that hugs your every curve perfectly. Your hands skim down the material, enjoying how the outfit was made in more of a Metkayina fashion than the usual Omatikaya styled clothes Neteyam would make for you.

Gathering a breathing mask in case you need it, you set out for the cove, barely hiding your excitement as you walk over. Neteyam's azure skin shines brightly in the setting sunlight, arms crossed as he rests against the side of a large rock, beautiful golden eyes squinting against the last light before eclipse as he watches the sunset.

"Kaltxì, ma sayrìp." you call out to him, shortening the distance between you quickly as you run to him, wrapping your arms around his hips and burying your face into his lower stomach, teasing your lips across his exposed V line. His loincloth is the same combination of deep purple and lilac, the same dark green seaweed twisted together to wrap around his lower hips, matching with your new outfit..

His stomach flexes under you as his laugh rumbles through his belly, his large hand cradling the back of your neck to hold you closer against him. "Kaltxì, ma lor. You look so beautiful." His hands gently pry your arms off of his hips so he can look down at your outfit, his eyes growing darker the more he drinks you in.

"I absolutely love it! It was such a nice surprise, thank you." you say, kissing his palm as further thanks.

Neteyam's lips quirk up in a small smirk, the back of his fingers caressing your cheek, "That isn't the surprise, follow me."

You except Neteyam's hand, holding on to him with both of your hands as he leads you around the cove into the opening of a very familiar cave. You watch in awe as night settles and the stone walls around you come to life, mixes of greens, blues, pinks, and purples light up the moss covering the walls, the sound of trickling water catching your ears.

Walking further in, it gets lighter as an opening in the ceiling of the cave cranks open to reveal a clear view of the sky, Alpha Centauri A and the millions the stars above acting like a living portrait, illuminating a collection of small pools of water that trickle down into one big pool.

This was Ao'nung's moon pool that he took you to months ago; you'd always wanted to come back, you were just hoping it would be with Ao'nung.

"It's breathtaking..." you say in wonderment, following Neteyam to the shimmering blue water's edge, letting your toes dip into the soft dirt leading into the warm water. "This is a beautiful surprise."

"This isn't your surprise." Neteyam tells you, smiling when you look up at him with confusion etched into your pretty face. His long fingers hold your chin, turning your head towards the shadowy portion of the pool where the deeper waters are at.

From the darkness, a pair of crystal blue eyes stare back at you, the familiar swirl of black ink on his cheek bone sets off butterflies in your stomach. Ao'nung slowly peers out from behind the rock wall he was leaning on, the water rippling around him as he slowly wades through the water into the light shining above.

"He's your surprise."

You squeeze Neteyam's hand as tightly as you could, bouncing on your feet from your growing excitement as your eyes constantly shift between Ao'nung and Neteyam, unsure of who to address first.

You feel Neteyam's bigger body fold in around you, hugging you from behind as his warm lips connect with your neck, laying a soft kiss to your skin before reaching your ear, blowing on it to get your attention. "Me and Ao'nung have come to an agreement, I've decided that Ao'nung would be an amazing addition to our relationship. And he's agreed to behave, isn't that right, sweet boy?"

Ao'nung peels his eyes off of you, looking up at Neteyam, "Yes, I promise."

Your heart is beating painfully fast as you feel your body heat all over, your excitement causing your hands to shake. Neteyam tugs at your top, teasing the knot as he slowly pulls it loose, "We even got our courting gifts this afternoon."

Your hand automatically reaches for the band of your loincloth, making eye contact with Ao'nung as your fingertips graze the fabric, "It's so beautiful, 'Nung, I love it so much." you tell him, unable to control the smile that graces your lips.

"Yes," Neteyam agrees, eyes softening as you looks at Ao'nung, "I love your gift, Tanhì."

Ao'nung's ears perk up at the praise, his heart skipping a beat at the endearing name Neteyam called him, a lavender hue dusting over his cheeks at the pure happiness on your face.

Neteyam takes his time slowly undoing the knots to your top and loincloth, savouring the feel of the soft fabric on your skin, kissing every inch of exposed skin, his teeth scraping against your shoulder in a feral smile when he notices Ao'nung shift in the water, hiding his growing erection as he watches Neteyam worship your body only a short distance away from him.

Ao'nung creeps closer, the water sitting just above where his the swell of his cock is, the dark pattern of black ink on his hip catching your eye. You never noticed that tattoo before, never seeing the way it follows down his V line towards his crotch. Ao'nung feels his pride swell when he sees Neteyam staring at the same tattoo as you, heavy lidded eyes trailing down his body and yours, unable to decide were to keep his focus.

Neteyam squeezes your bare hip, pulling on your earlobe with just the tip of his sharp canine, "Do you want to touch our sweet boy?" he asks, his eyes finding Ao'nung's desperate gaze.

You turn to Neteyam, big doe eyes pleading, "Please, Nete? I'll behave, I swear."

Neteyam smirks, "I've heard that before, little one." Neteyam soothes your growing pout with a soft peck to your lower lip, petting your cheek to relax you. His head dips for a moment, whispering into your ear. Ao'nung leans forward, wishing to know what Neteyam has planned, but he pulls away before Ao'nung could hear, letting you go with one last squeeze to your hips.

You immediately step into the warm water, hands outstretched towards Ao'nung as you take cautious steps into the rocky pool. Ao'nung takes your soft, small hand in his, holding back a whimper when your little arms wrap around his hips, squeezing him in a tight hug.

You nuzzle your face against his stomach, kissing the swirl of his tattoo, "Missed you, 'Nung." you tell him, resting your hands on the base of his erratically moving tail, rubbing against the butter soft skin at the base of his spine.

Ao'nung can't think straight, Neteyam's burning, lust filled gaze is like an anchor to Ao'nung, your soft breasts pressing together on his swelling cock causing his hips to jump forward prematurely, a broken whine leaving his lips.

"Ao'nung," Neteyam deep timber echoes in the small space, knocking Ao'nung out of the trance the two of you have put over him long enough to lock eyes with Neteyam. "Greet your future muntxate properly."

It's now Ao'nung realizes his hands are raised in the air, an automatic reaction to keep peace that is already present. Neteyam wants him to touch you, desires to watch Ao'nung touch you like last time.

Ao'nung reaches down, wrapping his hands around your soft waist, sinking to his knees until the water rests at his lower chest, pressing your body against his. He nuzzles his wide, flat nose against your cheek, rubbing his cheek against yours as he scents you, mingling yours and Neteyam's scent with his. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in for a hungry kiss, desperately asking for his full attention.

His moans are muffled against your mouth when your blunt teeth nibble on his bottom lip, asking for entrance that Ao'nung immediately gives you, savouring the feeling of your smooth tongue gently playing with his rougher tongue, shivering when your satin skin rubs against his, your arousal coating the humid air.

The barely audible sound of Neteyam shifting catches Ao'nung's attention, leaving your lips in favor of laying biting kisses on your pulse point, glancing at Neteyam as he does.

Neteyam has discarded his loincloth, his lean body casually resting on a rock ledge jutting out of the water, cock in hand as his thumb teases his slit, smearing the first drop of precum down his shaft, his breathing getting deeper and more concentrated as he watches Ao'nung leave marks on your chest and breasts.

"You're doing so good, Tanhì." Neteyam praises, eyelids fluttering close for just a second when his grip tightens around his leaking cock, giving it a firm stroke. "And you look so pretty with his marks, Yawne."

You squirm at the praise, grinding your hips across Ao'nung's throbbing cock as you tug him closer, grinning into the kiss when Ao'nung moans at the friction of your bodies grinding together.

Ao'nung can't peels his eyes off of Neteyam the same way he can't peel himself away from you. His touches growing more confident as he squeezes and pulls your soft body closer, every kiss growing more desperate and needy as his lips find any portion of your silky skin he can find. His eyes never leaving Neteyam, his cock throbbing as Neteyam's cock twitches in his grip, a cocky smile playing on his lips as he watches Ao'nung watch him.

Ao'nung's too preoccupied with watching Neteyam and kissing the delicate skin of your neck, that he doesn't pay attention to the way your hands glides down his wet chest and stomach, reaching below the water to wrap your small hand around his swollen cock, fingertips teasing his tip.

You giggle at the way Ao'nung crumbles at the sensation, his head falling forward to hide in your chest, back bowing as his hips flex forward, his whole body folding around yours as you tease him.

"Aw, it seems both my boys are so sensitive." you coo to Ao'nung, smiling at Neteyam as you give a one firm tug on Ao'nung's cock, causing the man under you to whine loudly in your ear.

Your hand can't even fully wrap around Ao'nung's cock. Like Neteyam that's long and slender, Ao'nung is long but very girthy. Your smile grows as you catch Neteyam bite his lip when he sees Ao'nung's size, his slow strokes stuttering for a moment as he rolls his pelvis into his fist, his cockhead growing a deeper shade of purple the longer he forces himself to draw out the pleasure building in his stomach.

Ao'nung pulls away from your chest, trying to hide his wanting moans better by latching onto your nipple, groaning around the perky nub causing you to groan with him, tightening your hold on him as your stroking grows just a little faster.

Neteyam stands from his perch, silently wading through the water until he's right behind you, kneeling down in the water and wrapping his long arms around both Ao'nung and you, molding your bodies against each other. Neteyam rests his chin on the top of your head, his fingertips grazing the fresh love bites littering your neck and chest before moving down to knead your other breast.

"You look so beautiful like this, little one." Neteyam purrs into your ear, tongue laying out to lick at your mating scar, leaving a few love bites of his own on your shoulder. Neteyam gets a hold of the undersides of your thighs, lifted you out of the water, wrapping your legs around Ao'nung's waist while your upper half rests on Neteyam's chest. Like this your body is on full display for the two Na'vi men cradling you against them, your drenched folds glistening in the low light.

Ao'nung's mouth fills with saliva as Neteyam plays through your slick folds, nudging against your clit causing you to whimper softly, pushing your core further inyo his teasing touch. With his other hand, Neteyam moves Ao'nung's hand off your hip, guiding him down to tease your neglected clit.

"You feel how we've been ignoring our precious tawtute." Neteyam questions, moving Ao'nung's finger in slow, tight circles around your aching clit, your soft moans like sweet music to both men as your head falls back on Neteyam's chest, your hand squeezing Ao'nung's cock so hard he practically sobs, rolling his hips further into your grip.

"Mawey, ma Tanhì." Neteyam soothes him, hiding his amused smile at how sensitive Ao'nung is, guiding his finger further down to your slick entrance, pushing just one of Ao'nung's fingers into your quivering hole, slowly stretching you open.

Ao'nung stills for a moment, curling his finger until you gasp, his fingertip pushing against your sweet spot, your slick running down his hand the more he plays with you as Neteyam circles your clit. "You are so wet, Paysyul." Ao'nung mumbles to himself, ears twitching at ever soft sound you made.

Neteyam grins, nuzzling his nose into your temple, "She always does. So needy and desperate," Neteyam pulls away from your pussy, gripping Ao'nung's chin, turning his gaze to him. "Just like you." he says, touching his nose to Ao'nung's in an affectionate nose bump.

His lips brush against Ao'nung's, the very tip of his tongue runs across his bottom lip before tugging his mouth closer, pushing his tongue into Ao'nung's mouth, sucking on his tongue in a sloppy kiss. Neteyam's hand leaves his jaw, dragging down his body until his hand wraps around Ao'nung's cock, giving a much firmer stroke than you could do, Neteyam's long fingers squeezing down Ao'nung's shaft, going back up to tease his leaking tip.

Ao'nung whines into Neteyam's mouth, biting at his bottom lip to try and keep quiet, "Nete, please!"

Neteyam hums, deepening the kiss as he quickens his strokes, a stream of precum running down his knuckles. You tremble in between them, thighs burning from how hard you're squeezing Ao'nung's waist, your mind going fuzzy as you feel Neteyam grind his hard, throbbing cock into your ass, pushing you deeper onto Ao'nung's fingers.

You reach above you, tangling your fingers into Neteyam's braids, pulling at them to get his attention, "Ma 'Nete, ma 'Nung, please I need you both..." you plead, praying Neteyam will finally fuck you and Ao'nung stupid like you've wanted for so long.

Pulling away from the kiss, Neteyam calms Ao'nung's groan of complaint by handing you over to him, wrapping his arm around Ao'nung's hips, guiding everyone out of the water. You cling to Ao'nung, kissing and nipping his neck until goosebumps erupt over his skin, comforting him as he whimpers at the loss of contact on his painfully hard cock.

"Lay down, sweet boy." Neteyam directs Ao'nung, helping him to lay on his back while holding you, spreading Ao'nung's legs and kneeling between them, wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm. Your cunt sits ontop of Ao'nung's cock, your slick mixing with his precum and covering him in your combined juices, you grind down against him, your clit catching on his cockhead at every drag against him. Ao'nung face goes flushed, jaw going slacked as he moans, watching your smaller form hump against him, pushing his pelvis up to meet your movements.

"Yawne," Neteyam calls to you, his face set in a stern expression. You stop, nearly drawing blood from how hard you're biting your bottom lip, forcing yourself to stop. Ao'nung mimics you, stopping as he holds back his complaints that are quickly chases away when Neteyam lifts you up just enough to notch Ao'nung's cockhead at your entrance, slowly lowering you down onto his cock.

Ao'nung throws his head back, your tight pussy squeezing his cock so hard he's afraid he'll cum prematurely. "Oh, ma Eywa!" he whines, hips involuntarily bucking up another inch up into, your surprised gasp turning into a pained sob.

Neteyam stops, stern gaze landing on Ao'nung, "Behave or you don't cum." he reprimands, nuzzling against your cheek to check on how you're feeling. You pat Neteyam's cheek, giving Ao'nung a weak smile, petting the tattoo on his hip to comfort him.

Ao'nung nods, swallowing to wet his dry throat, "Ngaytxoa, ma Paysyul." he apologizes, letting Neteyam straighten his legs and push his hips back down. Neteyam widens his stance between his spreads legs, making it almost impossible to allow Ao'nung to thrust upwards.

Slowly, Neteyam begins to lower you down again, watching as your pussy stretches around Ao'nung's girth, you soft sobs muffled against Neteyam's bicep as you cling to him, a pleasuring burn shooting through your core and up your spine, your body trembling in his hold.

"Ha! Fuck!" you groan as your clit just barely bumps against Ao'nung's pelvic bone, your lower stomach bulging from how Ao'nung's cock has bullied it's way into you, his cockhead nestled against your cervix. Neteyam's iron grip on you loosens, setting you down so your upper body rests on Ao'nung's chest, letting him wrap his arms around you.

Neteyam leans over you and Ao'nung, pressing his chest into your back, "You're doing so well, little one, so perfect for your muntxatan." he coos, kissing your shoulders and the back of your neck as he pets Ao'nung's sweaty hair, playing with his tangled curls.

You mumble a incoherent response into Ao'nung's chest, clenching down when Ao'nung shifts under you, both of you fighting to keep calm. Neteyam sits back on his calves, admiring the view the two of you trying desperately to behave. Your soft, small form clinging onto Ao'nung spread out body, your cunt greedily sucking in his cock as he stretches you out to your limit.

It's a perfect sight. So perfect that Neteyam's cock twitches, ears swiveling at ever small sound that's made, tail lashing happily behind him.

He watches as your arousal leaks out around Ao'nung's cock, trickling down to his puckered hole. Spitting onto his fingers, Neteyam lightly teases Ao'nung's hole, mixing your slick and his spit to make a slick lube, dipping into Ao'nung's tight hole with his slick fingers, slowly stretching him.

Ao'nung yelps at the sudden intrusion, jump as Neteyam eases him open. The sudden jerk had driven his cock into your tight warmth, his thick cockhead bumping against your sweet spot as your clit slid against his slick skin. Both of you moan, starting a long line of whimpers and pleads from both your lust drunk minds, begging for more.

"Ao'nung, no moving!" you whine, your nail digging into his skin to ground yourself. Ao'nung swallows his cries when Neteyam's fingers curl into his pleasure spot, focusing on soothing you instead. "I am s-sorry, Paysyul. I a-am trying..."

"Try harder!"

Your back an forth, barely audible bickering through whimpers and whines makes Neteyam chuckle as he withdraws his finger, quickly replacing them with his leaking cockhead. Ao'nung props himself on his elbows when he feels the initial stretch of Neteyam's cock pushing into his lightly stretched hole, both men groaning loudly at the sensation.

Ao'nung grips you impossibly tighter, his fingers sure to leave bruises as he squeezes your pliable body against his toned chest, his cock twitch, rubbing against your sweet spot making you moan with him.

Neteyam sighs in relieve when his pelvis meets the swell of Ao'nung's ass, surprising Ao'nung when Neteyam grips his thighs and dragging the Metkayina closer, resting his toned thighs ontop of his, making absolutely sure he goes as deep as possible.

"Please, please, please, let me move!" you beg, resting your palms on Ao'nung's chest, ignoring the shaking in your arms from how on edge you are to look up at Neteyam. He kisses your forehead, taking your soft mounds in his hands, kneading at them to hopefully sedate you for now.

"Tanhì," Neteyam's voice is hoarse and deep as he sweetly calls to the dazed man under you. Ao'nung can barely open his eyes from the full sensation filling his entire body, your warm, gummy walls massaging his cock as Neteyam's cock rubs and twitches against his pleasure spot. Forcing his eyes open, Ao'nung wants to whines as his eyes drink in your pleasure dazed state and Neteyam's hungry eyes.

"You make our Yawne cum, then you get to, sweet boy." Neteyam tells him, experimentally rolling his hips forward, the movement pushing your body up, dragging Ao'nung's throbbing cock against your overly sensitive walls. All three of you melt at the feeling, Neteyam thrusts forward again with more force, gruffly groaning directly in your ear as your driven up Ao'nung's cock, falling back down as Neteyam draws back, your pulsing clit gliding on Ao'nung's tattoo.

The small cave is covered in your moans, heavy panting making the air more humid than it was already was with the warm water, wet squelch and skin slapping against skin barely covering over the cries and pleas coming from you and Ao'nung as you're forced to take the brutal pace Neteyam has set.

Ao'nung is unable to move as you bounce on his cock at every sharp thrust Neteyam delivers to his raw hole, laying limp as he's fucked stupid by the two people he's desired the most, hands constantly wandering between holding you and gripping at Neteyam.

Your body is crushed between the two Na'vi men, being moved and shifted in every direction Neteyam desires as he relentlessly fucks you and Ao'nung, his large palm lightly pushing on your lower back so your clit grinds on Ao'nung's pelvic bone at every thrust, using his hold on you to ensure you're fucked nice and deep on Ao'nung's cock.

The burning heat in your lower stomach is limb numbing, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment. And it seemed Ao'nung was right behind you by the way his moans have gotten more high pitched and desperate.

"N-Need to cum, Nete baby, please!" you plead.

"Ma Nete, I-I cannot h- ah! Cannot hold myself b-back much longer..." Ao'nung can barely speak as he grits his teeth, thinking of anything but the way the two of you are fucking the life out him.

Neteyam bites his lip to keep from whimper at how desperate you both sound, his movements stuttering before picking back up, delivery deep, quick strokes. His hot breath tickling your sticky skin as he whispers to you, "Cum for us, Yawne."

Your blunt teeth dig into Ao'nung's pectoral muscle to muffle your scream as your orgasm shakes through your body, clenching so hard around Ao'nung he screams with you, blunt nails cutting into your skin as you fall limp into his rapidly moving chest.

"Cum for me, Tanhì."

Neteyam's words flip a switch inside Ao'nung as he immediately cums, sobbing as his hot cum fills your spent cunt, cumming so much it spills out over his thighs, your small body trembling from the overstimulation.

Neteyam's gravely moans are hidden into your back, his teeth scraping your sweat slicked skin as he snarls from how tightly Ao'nung is clenching around him. His seed painting Ao'nung velvety walls white, his body twitching with Ao'nung as he finally gets relief after so long of neglecting himself the pleasure of cumming.

Neteyam's big, heavy body goes slacked against yours, staying there for just a moment before rolling off you, his still shaking hands taking ahold of your sore body, pulling you off Ao'nung's now soft cock, cradling your shivering form between the two of them, pulling Ao'nung to spoon you with him, keeping you warm with their big bodies.

"My loves did so good." Neteyam praises, letting you both use his arm as a pillow, his other arm thrown across your waist and Ao'nung's chest.

Both you and Ao'nung lay almost lifeless in Neteyam's arms, giving your own grumbled responses as he chuckles at you.

A countless amount of time passes, drifting in and out of consciousness as the three of you stay close together, exchanging small kisses and tender touches.

Neteyam's hand travels to the back of Ao'nung's head, long fingers wrapping around his tswin, gently pulling it forward, slowly dragging his hand down the braid covered neural cord until he reaches the tuff of hair at the end that opens to reveal Ao'nung's soft pink tendrils, writhing in the air, waiting for a connection. Ao'nung watches as Neteyam grabs his own tswin forward, holding it in his other hand, holding the two ends up.

Your small hand massages Neteyam's thigh, giving a tired, but encouraging smile from your spot nestled against his chest.

"We would be honoured to have you as our mate." Neteyam says, putting his tswin down for a moment to pet Ao'nung's cheek.

Ao'nung looks down at you, pretty blue eyes wide with curiosity at your answer. You smile up at him, petting his other cheek, thumbing over the tattoo on his cheekbone. "Be our mate, Nungie."

He nods, taking his tswin from Neteyam, presenting it to him. Neteyam grabs his tswin, giving it to you, "Bond us, little one."

Glee bubbles in your chest as you bring Neteyam's queue closer to Ao'nung's, watching as the tendrils gently intertwine with each other, making a purple-ish pink glow emanate from the new bond, both men shuddering as tsaheylu is made.

You admire both men as they close their eyes, savouring the feeling of their minds intermingling, feeling everything the other feels, seeing memories and how they felt in those moments. You lean forward, giving a soft kiss to both of their lips. Neteyam lazily kisses you back, holding your head in his big hand in promise of giving you a better kiss later. Ao'nung chases after your lips, asking for another even as he still concentrates on his new bond with Neteyam.

Neteyam hums, an amused smile gracing his full lips, "You were mean for nothing, Ao'." he teases, opening his eyes to stare at his new mate.

Ao'nung blushes a deep lavender hue as you giggling, snuggling into his side, "So were you."

©️Eywaite2024 | All rights reserved. Do not republish, steal, repost, modify, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

To say Ao'nung was angry was an understatement.

He was beyond furious, his mind constantly cloudy and muddy by thoughts of things he cannot have; of things he shouldn't want. His mind chanted these thoughts every minute of every day.

All he can think of is you. You little, annoying sky demon with your kind smile and enticing body. Constantly filling his mind with unnatural things. Ao'nung can't control his thoughts, to not imagine what it would feel like to have you under him, hold you, feel your soft skin under his palms, to know what it feels like to have you look at him with those admiring eyes, to taste you...

This is infuriating! He wasn't supposed to find little aliens from the sky attractive, he wasn't supposed to be anywhere near you. You are supposed to be with your own kind, to live in those ugly metal tubes with the rest of the tawtute. But instead you've become a nuisance in his life, always there and underfoot.

But even through his rage, Ao'nung would never say a single thing to hurt you. Sure he'd tease and question why you are so small, question your extra finger and lack of tswin. But he'd never actually say or do anything to really hurt you, his heart couldn't bare the thought of making your pretty eyes water and little lip quiver from tears... At least, he couldn't imagine you doing those things cause he hurt your feelings. And even through all his sly comments, you'd just make a funny face and laugh, or give a snarky remark back like calling him toad face. You always treated him kindly and that unnerved Ao'nung, you were insect size to him, something that should scare you, yet it doesn't. His bullying and aggressive ways didn't scare you; but you sure as hell scared him.

But your kind ways aside, there's an entirely different reason why he'll never come within a couple feet of your presence. One big, blue, thin tailed, golden child reason. Because even if Ao'nung swallowed down his pride and got over his denied fear of you to try and actually get to know you better, possibly court you, that forest boy's older brother will always be in the way. He has years of friendship and love built up like a barrier around your heart, claimed you with a mating bite that he flaunts with pride. No matter how much Ao'nung tried to look around the bite scar, it always seemed to smack him in the face whenever he let his guard down. There was no denying that you're Neteyam's tiny tawtute mate. And that fact put an unsettling feeling in his stomach.

It disgusted Ao'nung at first, watching a mighty warrior bend down to embrace this odd looking alien, keeping a protective hand on the back of your head as he glared down anyone that dared to glance in your direction. Neteyam's quite possessive over you, that's a fact not even Ao'nung can deny, never letting you out of his sight, dragging you everywhere he went. You annoyed Ao'nung at first, always clinging to Neteyam's thigh wherever he went, you're so much slower in the water and fumbled over his dialect. It angered Ao'nung even more when he saw how amused Neteyam was with your struggle, guiding you through the water with encouraging words, helping you with words you struggled to pronounce.

It puzzled Ao'nung as to why Neteyam, the future Olo'eyktan of his clan, eldest son of Toruk Makto would choose a simple human as a mate. You seemed useless, unable to protect yourself or others, and you couldn't form tsaheylu. How could Neteyam choose someone that can't See him, bond with him, or protect him when needed? Those questions plagued him until Ao'nung saw the look in your eyes when you'd look at Neteyam. Your pretty eyes go round and loving the moment you set your eyes on him, your small hands gently treating any minor wounds he might've gotten with a butter soft touch. It's the way you seeked comfort in touch, always finding the hand Neteyam would reach out to you.

You were small and helpless, but you love deeply and have the unique ability to see straight through someone's soul. A quality Neteyam must have noticed early on; it's a quality Ao'nung desires deeply in a mate.

You wear every little trinket and jewelry Neteyam made you with pride, the curves of your body holding the custom clothes he made for you perfectly. Every step you took would be accompanied by the soft chime of beads clanking together, whether from your hair or jewelry. You can cook the foods he loves. Heal like you were taught by the Tsahìk herself. You fit yourself into the Omatikayan ways perfectly.

Ao'nung couldn't help but imagine what you'd look like in clothes fashioned from his people, what the jewels he would give you would decorate your body. How would you take to Metkayina life if you weren't so attached to your mate.

The more Ao'nung watched, the more he craved for your touch, your love, to just have a taste of your intoxicating body. The way your sweet scent wraps around him, fogging his mind and stealing his thoughts away drives him absolutely mad.

The way Ao'nung can practically feel the heat emanating off your flustered face at whatever sly comment Neteyam would whisper into your ear at tonight's communal dinner, laying soft kisses on your mating bite just to make you squirm.

It didn't seem fair; all Ao'nung wants is you and that's the one thing he can't have. Was he perverted for imagining such things about somebody else's mate? Was something wrong with him for finding you so lovely? Was it wrong he wanted your admiring eyes to look at him for once?

A tightness settles in Ao'nung's lower stomach for the third time tonight, making it impossible to eat. Throwing down his rìk, Ao'nung bites back a frustrated growl. Even when he tried to not look in your direction, you're still front and center in his mind's eye, your laugh filling his ears, your scent still blows through the breeze and overwhelms his body with everything you, his cock twitching in his tewng the longer he breathed you in.

"Ngaru lu fpom srak, ma tsmukan?" Rotxo questions from beside him, eyeing his discarded meal.

Ao'nung gives him a sideways look before shrugging, grabbing his bowl of pxir and taking a long drink, wincing at the burn as it slides down his throat. His eyes once more wander to across the fire, landing on your small form sitting comfortably in Neteyam's lap, laughing at whatever Lo'ak had said beside you. Lo'ak's arm casually thrown around Tsireya's shoulder as she giggles with you.

Rotxo huffs loudly next to him, shoving a piece of meat in his mouth to keep himself quiet. It didn't last long once he swallowed, "You are the next Olo'eyktan of our clan, esteemed by many including your father and Toruk Makto, you can have any man or woman you want and they would consider it an honor to be with you. Yet you still pine after someone else's mate?" Rotxo scoffs through a mouthful of food, shaking his head at his best friend's antics. "You are being a skxawng."

Ao'nung wants to snap at Rotxo for his bold statement, chastise him for saying such things to his future leader, yet instead he withers into himself, avoiding eye contact with him entirely and chugs his pxir. The cruelest thing about Rotxo's statement is that it's true. He is being an absolute moron about everything, but he can't help it, he's always acted before he thought of the consequences. And now that he has to sit and think about what he wants, it fries his mind knowing not even patience can win him this prize.

"Neteyam would kill you," Rotxo continues. "He would beat your skxawng ass into the ground then kill you for thinking of his mate in such a way. He would probably have Lo'ak help him just to spite you."

Ao'nung's head dips to stare at the ground, a long sigh leaving him. It's moments like these when he regrets teaching Rotxo to come out of his shell and speak his mind. "I know. And I would deserve it... but–"

"No buts." Rotxo interrupts, not allowing Ao'nung to go on one of his long rants about how perfect you are to him.

"But–"

"No!" Rotxo can't hold back a laugh as he shakes his head. "Since when have I become the mature one in this friendship?" he questions, elbowing Ao'nung in the ribs.

Always. Rotxo has always been the level headed, calm, and rational person in their dynamic. Always the one to defuse any situation Ao'nung got himself into and show him the better path. But that wasn't something Ao'nung would ever admit out loud. Instead Ao'nung elbows Rotxo back, finally feeling the tension in his gut relaxing as he laughs with his friend.

That relaxed state didn't last long though as Ao'nung's eyes unconsciously drift back over to you, except this time you're looking back. Your face is maskless thanks to whatever concoction of things those smart tawtute with the glowing pads have made for you, allowing you to eat freely and have your beauty unfiltered to Ao'nung's hungry gaze. The light from the fire makes your eyes twinkle in the evening glow, your gaze soft and kind as you give him a small smile. Ao'nung's face heats up embarrassingly quick, a lavender hue dusting across his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he just stares back at you.

Ao'nung's heart skips a beat when your smile widens when you notice his blush, your blunt teeth biting down on your bottom lip to quiet your giggle. Your soft giggle quickly turns into a squeal, curling into yourself as you try crawling off of Neteyam's lap, attempting to get away from his hands that are relentlessly tickling your sides. Kiri rolls her eyes, mumbling something to her brother before swatting his shoulder. It seems like you're trying to apologize, but is cut off by another round of laughter.

You're so effortlessly beautiful in this moment. Shamelessly enjoying yourself amongst your family and love, your differences never stopping you from indulging in life's pleasures. It's one of the first things Ao'nung learned about you, and it's been the greatest thing that he admires about you; the first thing he grew to love.

Ao'nung dips his head back towards the ground, a jealousy taking deep root in his chest the longer he watched. Sadness overwhelming him and his loss of something he never had. Ignoring Rotxo's complaints, Ao'nung grabs his bowl of pxir to down it in one go, but stops when movement from your side of the fire catches his eye.

Neteyam has lifted you off his lap and has now set you on your feet, holding your small hand in his as you both walk away from the communal dinner, heading towards the bundle of woods that leads to the denser forest like areas on the island. A bitter taste coats Ao'nung's tongue as he watches Neteyam's tail coil lowly around his ankles before wrapping around your waist.

Neteyam is excited, the playful curl of his tail giving away his flirtatious mood, something you seem to reciprocate considering the way you're wrapping your arm around his hip, toying with the strings of his tewng.

Ao'nung's mind unkindly offers him images of your small body splayed out on the forest floor, face tear stained and scrunched up in pleasure. The once bitter taste of jealousy and alcohol is replaced with klpxiwlln, the phantom taste of the sweet berry coating his tongue as his mind imagines the sweet taste is you.

That's all Ao'nung wants; just a small taste. He'll settle just to scent the sweet smell of your arousal, to sit back and listen to your wanting cries while dreaming he was causing you that ecstasy.

"Do not do it." Ao'nung thinks to himself, trying to reason with the horrible idea bouncing around his thick skull.

"You will be killed or she will think of you as nothing more than a pervert." he thinks again, his own tail wrapping around his calf for comfort.

Before Ao'nung can stop himself he's on his feet, setting the drinking bowl aside and heading in the direction you were walking.

"I will sing your waytelem at your funeral." Rotxo calls after him, not bothering to stop Ao'nung when he gets in this state of mind.

Ao'nung ignores the gnawing guilty eating at his stomach from Rotxo's words, following the path of your footprints in the sand until they stop at the forest's edge. Ao'nung has never ventured too deep into this part of the island, the water is his home not the woods. Leave it to tree boy to take you into a dark, possible dangerous forest as a romantic place.

Taking a deep breath to center himself, Ao'nung steps into the unknown, pleasantly surprised to see that the bioluminescence takes away the eerie darkness of the forest and lights a cozy atmosphere. The ground under him glowing a light green every time his feet make contact with the spongy moss covering the ground.

"Not bad tree boy. Not bad." he thinks to himself as he starts walking, gawking around in amazement at the difference of worlds you come from.

A loud giggle catches Ao'nung's attention, his ears perking up to listen. The giggle sounds again; your giggle, this time accompanied by a deep toned laugh. Ao'nung instinctively crouches down, mimicking what he's seen Jake Sully do when he taught his father Omatikayan hunting practices. Following the soft murmers and laughs, Ao'nung soon finds a small clearing.

It mimicks that of a meadow, the trees clearing just enough to allow for a couple of people to lay down. The same moss he was walking on earlier covers the clearing, small bundles of flowers and bushes adding cushion to the ground, the canopy above letting in a small amount of filtered light of the moon. This clearing blows away the small moon pool Ao'nung had showed you awhile back, and that fact upset Ao'nung the longer he drank in his surroundings.

A breathy moan draws Ao'nung back to his mission, the sound like sweet music to his ears. Being extra cautious not to step on any twigs or leaves, Ao'nung crawls closer to the meadow where the hypnotic sound is coming from. It was like a physical reaction, Ao'nung's body moving uncontrollably at the lewd sounds you're making.

Crouching behind a tall bush, pushing aside a small branch to get an unprohibited view of where these sounds are coming from, and the sight in front of him makes his already half hard cock swell painfully hard.

Your small body is laid out on the cushioned ground, your soft legs are resting on Neteyam's shoulders, plush, pliable thighs bracketing his head. Another loud moan coats the air as Neteyam swirls your small, puffy clit around his tongue, sucking the bundle the nerves like a sweet treat just to pull a whimper from your pretty mouth.

Your decorative top is swiftly pulled off and discarded so Neteyam can freely knead your tender breasts, rolling your pebbled nipples as your back arches. Your tiny, odd numbered hand combs through his braids, tugging on them when Neteyam groans into your aching cunt.

"Fuck– Neteyam, please!" your pleads are like a gut punch to Ao'nung, his tewng suffocating his leaking cock. Biting at his bottom lip to keep from whimpering as he palms himself through the coarse fabric, a shakey sigh leaving him when he squeezes down on the bulge, relieving a small amount of the growing ache clouding his mind.

Neteyam chuckles at your desperation, pulling away from your sweet pussy to lay bruising kisses on your inner thighs, eliciting a whine from you when he bites down on the squishy flesh, leaving a blooming purple love bite behind. "What is it, Oeyä Yawne?"

His ears perk up, waiting to hear your answer. Instead of responding, your small hand travels down to his tswin, lightly squeezing the braid covered neural cord. Neteyam chokes on his moan, head falling against your thigh, his hips automatically flexing to grind down on the sponge moss, his tewng growing darker from his cum. Ao'nung is stunned as he watches Neteyam whimper into the cradle of your thighs, pelvis twitching as the unexpected release flowing out of his tewng and onto the ground.

"You're not playing fair, Yawne." he groans through grit teeth, prying your small hand off his tswin. You softly giggle through your daze, Neteyam playful glares at you before taking your clit back into his mouth, sucking on it hard enough to make you cry loudly.

Ao'nung has to retract his hand from his cock entirely to keep himself from cumming just from watching your exchange. The idea of your small hand fondling his most sacred part makes an uncontrollable shiver run down his spine. A new collection of precum spilling from his cockhead, staining the fabric, making Ao'nung groan as his cock pulses painfully.

Another one of your sweet moans rings in Ao'nung's ears, making him turn back to watch just as your back arches off the ground, legs shaking as you cum. Your beautiful face scrunched together as you ride out your high, hips twitching as you whine from the overstimulation. Neteyam hums in acknowledgement, kissing your sensitive clit one last time before pulling away from your dripping cunt.

Slowly crawling back up your body, Neteyam captures your lips in a searing kiss, nibbling on your bottom lip so you'll allow his tongue entrance, groaning as you suck gently on his tongue, tasting yourself.

Ao'nung has to look away to keep the bitter taste from returning. He's fighting himself to not pant, for the first time in his life, he can't catch his breath. You have completely captivated him, aroused him to the point of pain, knocking the wind out him from just watching you drown in your pleasure. But as much as it squeezes Ao'nung's heart to watch you cling to Neteyam while he gives you everything Ao'nung wants to give you, he can't stop himself from looking back to your embracing forms.

Neteyam is comfortably settled in between your legs, holding your small head in one of his hands, cushioning your head as he kisses your neck and chest, leaving hickies behind, making you laugh when he nibbles on the small space between your neck and shoulder. His tail is swaying and coiling in the air behind him in satisfaction, ears twitching to hear your every sound.

Ao'nung has never wanted to be someone else ever in his life, but he'd give his title as future clan leader for just a small moment to be in Neteyam's place. Embracing your small body against his while he made you laugh and moan.

Ao'nung is brought out of his sulking when he hears Neteyam start to laugh so hard it makes you poke his cheek, smile through your confusion. "What's the matter with you? Why are you laughing?"

Kissing you shoulder one last time, Neteyam leans in close and whispers something in your ear. Your head immediately snaps up to stare at your mate, eyes growing wide and jaw growing slack.

Neteyam smiles down at you amused, tilting his head and raising his brow bone in question. Silently communicating with you.

You nod immediately, gripping Neteyam's shoulder as you try to shift your position, but Neteyam's iron grip on your hip keeps you from moving. Continuing to hover above you, covering most of your naked body to keep you from getting cold from the cool night air.

"Ma Ao'nung, I know you're there. Come out. "

Ao'nung feels nauseous. His stomach knotting so tight it makes him forget about the ache between his legs. The idea of running crosses his mind, but it wouldn't help, not with Neteyam staring in his direct hiding place. Shifting his tewng hoping to hide the ever present bulge tenting his loincloth, Ao'nung reluctantly stands and walk around the bushes he was hiding behind to stand at the outer edge of the clearing.

"Ma Neteyam, I am sorry. I-I did not mean t–"

"Shut up." Neteyam voice drips in irration, eyes narrowing into pinpoints as he stares Ao'nung down.

"Come here." Neteyam demands. Ever muscle in Ao'nung's body locks him into place, trying desperately to not look down at you.

"Now." The growl that rumbles through Neteyam's chest shakes Ao'nung to his very core. Squaring himself, Ao'nung walks on shakey legs to stand in front of the both of you.

"One time only; no penetration."

Stunned, Ao'nung glances down at your form all curled up under Neteyam, and the air is knocked out of his lungs once again when he sees your beautiful doe-eyes staring up at him.

"Wh– I do not–" Ao'nung stumbles over himself as he tries to process what the Omatikayan was saying.

"You get only one time to have her, one chance to act out your little fantasies. But no penetration, her pussy is mine. Agreed?" Neteyam explains, a neutral expression plastered on his face. His fingers lazily twirling a strand of your hair, fingertips massaging your scalp to keep you relaxed.

The whole of Ao'nung's body feels like it's been set on fire, his nerves raw as the idea of actually having you bounces around in his head. That every fantasy about having you is just a breath away, and now Ao'nung can't talk; for the first time in his life he doesn't have a retort or sarcastic remark to make.

Neteyam scoffs as he stares at Ao'nung opening and closing his mouth like a fish on land. Grabbing the back of your thighs, Neteyam pulls you up to rest in his lap, keeping his arms around you like a protective cage. Neteyam has to physically bite his lip to keep from laugh at the pathetic whimper that Ao'nung let's out at seeing more of your naked body. A quick reprimanding smack to his chest by you makes Neteyam stop laughing.

"Give me an answer or leave."

You smack his chest again, glaring at your mate. "Be nice!"

Neteyam pets your hair, ignoring Ao'nung all together when he bends down to kiss you, purposely biting your lower lip to make you moan.

Ao'nung's legs buckle from underneath him at the sound, kneeling only an arms length away from your small form. It takes Ao'nung falling to finally snap out of his daze, "Yes. Yes, I agree."

Your sweet face lights up in an excited smile at Ao'nung's agreement, pushing against Neteyam's chest to climb off his lap. But the smallest of tugs from Neteyam pulls you back down. Neteyam peers down at you sternly, "Behave."

"Yes, sir." you cooed, kissing him one last time before climbing off his lap. You cheekily give Ao'nung a small eye roll, smirking at the Metkayina.

The tight knot in Ao'nung's stomach dissipates at your reaction, a small smile of his own graces his features, matching your sweet expression. But that simple nervousness was immediately replaced by limb shaking anxiety when you climb into his lap, small arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him into a tender kiss.

Your soft body is pressed against his, breasts being pushed into his chest the closer you pull yourself to him. You're sat directly on his painfully hard cock, softly grinding on it as you move to get comfortable. Your skin is like satin, soothing over his burning hot skin with your small palm, thumbing over the black ink swirling across his cheek. Your lips feel impossibly soft and small against his own chapped lips, eargerness pouring from you at every pull of your lips against his.

Neteyam's loud laugh makes you break away from him, a small giggle falling from your own pretty lips. Ao'nung was ready to physically fight Neteyam for making you pull away. Your small fingers comb through Ao'nung's dark curls, playing with them to sooth the scowl he had leveled at Neteyam.

Neteyam just scoffs at him, leaning back against a tree trunk to get comfortable. "You can touch her back, she won't bite... unless you want her to." Neteyam smirks when he sees the lavender hue on Ao'nung's ears brighten, Neteyam's eyes falling down to you and he mumbles something to you in your demon tongue.

You smile, looking up at Ao'nung as you nod, replying to Neteyam in your alien language before directing the conversation back to the man in front of you. "Ao'nung," you purr. His name sounds like the purest of music coming from you, the tightness in his chest loosening as he watches your round doe-eyes stare up at him. "Please kiss me."

Every fear and doubt dissipates the moment you mumble those three words, practically begging for the one thing Ao'nung desperately wants to give you. Ao'nung's hands engulf your whole head when he cups your warm cheeks, pulling you into a hungry kiss. His long fingers tangling in your soft hair so he can turn and pull you in any direction he desires, nibbling on your plush bottom lip, asking for entrance.

You happily comply, opening your mouth to let Ao'nung's rough, wide tongue lick into your hot mouth. His moans are muffled by your small mouth when he feels how silky smooth your tongue is, how small it feels when the very tip runs over the point of his canines. It takes all of Ao'nung's willpower to pull away from the kiss when you do, watching you pant trying to catch your breath, even then Ao'nung can't pull away. Pulling you back for small pecks and nips, fighting a satisfied smile when you giggle through the kisses he's relentlessly giving you.

Using his grip in your hair, Ao'nung tilts your head back, giving him full access to your hickey covered neck. Ao'nung takes his time kissing around the love bites Neteyam had left behind, avoiding your mating bite at all cost. Neteyam scent is permanently engraved into your skin, making Ao'nung's nose scrunch up in displeasure. The overwhelming need to scent you is throbbing through his body, his self control completely lost when he licks at your pulse point just to feel your erratically beating heart under the delicate flesh, reveling in your soft moan when he sucks on the sensitive skin.

Your soft moan get louder as you start grind down an Ao'nung's bulge, his leaking cockhead catching on your clit through the coarse fabric. "More, please. Ao'nung, I want more..." you plead, your smooth hands trailing down his chest and torso to rest on the band of his tewng.

"No." Neteyam's deep voice echoed from the darker corner of the clearing. You whine, turning your head to the direction of his voice, only able to see a pair of glowing, golden eyes staring back at you out of the darkness. "Nete, please–"

"No," he demanded, leaning forward to grab a hold of your jaw, his face just barely being revealed in the moonlight. Neteyam quirks his brow bone at you, "You'll get what you want later. For now, behave, Yawntutsyìp."

"Okay." you mumble, leaning into Neteyam's palm, his thumb lazily running under your eye. Neteyam's gaze glides to Ao'nung's, staring at the frozen Metkayina.

"Go on, Ao'nung, give her more." he smirked, using a single finger to push into Ao'nung's shoulder before sitting back into his dark corner.

Ao'nung can feel your slick drenching his loincloth, your arousal coats the air like how the paysyul scents the early morning breeze. You smell so good. Your smell is addicting. Your warm, satin skin is addicting. Your curved body is addicting. You are addicting.

And now Ao'nung has you; has a chance at finally tasting you. Getting a firm hold on your waist, Ao'nung lays back against the spongey, glowing moss under him, lifting you up to settle on his chest in one fluid motion. You gasp at the sudden movement, your small fingers squeezing his forearms hard enough to leave nail imprints in his skin.

"Come, Paysyul. Let me taste you." Ao'nung grabs your hips tightly and dragging you up his body until your cunt is hovering over his lips. He groans feeling your soft pussy on his tongue, your sweet taste erupts across his taste buds. You taste so much better than klpxiwlln or anything else he's imagined. So soft and warm as your slick coats his tongue, swirling around your small, puffy clit earning a whine from your swollen lips.

Your fingers comb through his thick curls, pulling on the inky strands as you rock your hips into his mouth, throwing your head back and gracing the night with your beautiful sounds. Plush thighs squeezing Ao'nung's head, your other hand grabbing at your breasts. Ao'nung quickly replaces your hand with his, rolling and pinching your stiff nipples, making your back arch further into his touch.

"Fuck! 'Nung, don't stop!" you plead. The nickname rolling off your tongue and straight to his dick, groaning uncontrollably into your pussy as his cock throbs.

"Say it again." he whines against your dripping cunt, squeezing your thigh with his free hand as a desperate plea.

Your breathy moan turns into a soft chuckle at Ao'nung's plead, "Rutxe, ma 'Nung, don't stop. Feels so good– ah!" you cry out when Ao'nung's rough tongue dips into your quivering hole, massaging your soft, gummy walls. Ao'nung's hand travels from your thigh to your hip, pulling you further down onto his mouth, encouraging you to ride his tongue.

Your sweet moans only get louder, body shaking as the pleasure is almost too much to bare. Hips undulating across Ao'nung's lower face, grinding on his tongue as his nose rhythmically bumps against your pulsing clit. Your stomach tightens, a building pressure warning you of your growing orgasm.

"Oh, fuck! N-Nete, I have to– please!" you beg, barely able to hold the mind numbing orgasm building in your core. You lean back and rest your hands on Ao'nung's shoulders, head tilted to the side to make eye contact with Neteyam, begging for your release.

"Hmm, you're asking a lot from me, Yawne. Do you really think you deserve it? Do you really think I want to share that with him?" Neteyam questions, not bothered at all by your pleading eyes and loud whines.

"Hah– Neteyam, please!" you yell through your moan, voice raspy and body shimmering in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat covering your body. You try to pull your pussy off of Ao'nung's relentless mouth, crying out when he pulls you back.

Ao'nung is dazed, thinking of only one thing: and that's to make you cum in his mouth. He's desperate for it, shamelessly moaning into your cunt, loudly slurping at your juices, sucking on your throbbing clit. His grip on your hips tighten, rocking you manually on his tongue.

Neteyam perches his lips, calculating his next move as he watches you struggle to behave as he told you to. You truly were his best girl, a little greedy, but that's his fault, he can't help but spoil you. And now, as he watches you sitting on the chief's son's face, crying from the overstimulation as you try to hold off possibly the best orgasm you've ever had, Neteyam feels his cock throb for you. Thirsty for your tight cunt to wrap around his cock, stretch you wide and have you begging for more even then. He can't let fish lips have this, no, your pleasure was his to decide; and you're only cumming on his dick tonight.

Finally making his decision, Neteyam stands up and wraps one of his arms around your waist, the other pries Ao'nung's hands off your hip, pulling you off Ao'nung's face with ease. Neteyam sits back down, settling you on his lap, his hard cock grinding against your exposed pussy. Hooking your legs over his thighs and spreading his legs, splaying you open for him.

Ao'nung jumps up, face drenched in your slick, lips swollen and hair disheveled. Ao'nung bares his teeth at Neteyam, "She was going to cum, why stop?!" he hisses in Neteyam's face.

Neteyam growls low in his chest before hissing at Ao'nung, arms tightening around you, hunching his body over yours to protect you if necessary. "She is my mate! You're blessed to have even tasted her!" Neteyam snarls at Ao'nung, shoving at his shoulder making him stumble back.

Ao'nung catches himself before he completely falls over, crouching down and hissing at Neteyam again. Before Neteyam can retaliate, you scream, "BOYS!"

Both men stop, startled, their eyes settle on your wrecked form. "I don't give a shit who makes me cum, just please! Please, let me cum!" you plead to both of them, pressing your ass against Neteyam bulge making him grunt.

Neteyam eyes Ao'nung's now relaxed form, hold on you tightening even more when he slow crawls closer. Ao'nung looks to Neteyam, ducking his head to scan your spread out body, starting to squirm around with want. Ao'nung looks back up to Neteyam, waiting for permission to stay. Neteyam gives him a single nod before turning his attention back to you.

"My poor, Yawne, have we been mean?" Neteyam asks, wiping a fresh tear off your cheek with his knuckle.

Ao'nung wipes the other tear away, "Too focused on our fighting we forgot about your pleasure?"

You can only nod, looking between the two Na'vi trapping you between their bulky bodies. Their heavy, hot breath fanning across your damp skin, causing goosebumps to erupt over your body. "Please," you plead. "Touch me."

Neither of them can deny such a sweet request. Ao'nung bends down, sucking the swell of your breast into his mouth, rolling the perked nub with his tongue while he kneads your other breast. Neteyam licks over your mating bite, kissing and nipping the sensitive skin until you're a moaning, whining mess between the two men.

Neteyam's skilled fingers quickly untie his loincloth, discarding the fabric to rub the thick head of his cock through your slick folds, drenching himself in your slick. Neteyam continues grinding against your pussy, cockhead bumping against your clit making you whimper, reaching your arm around to tangle your fingers in his braids. You tug on his braids harshly, causing Neteyam to grunt into your hair.

"More. Want your cock, please!" you beg again, your other hand fisting into Ao'nung's curls, his loud groan muffled around your nipple.

Finally, Neteyam grips your hips tightly, lining up with you entrance, teasing you a small amount before your whine of frustration urges him to push his tip past your tight entrance.

No matter how many times you've taken Neteyam's cock, the stretch always takes your breath away. Unconsciously holding your breath as Neteyam continues to sink in inch by inch, your tight, warm pussy hugging his cock perfectly.

Neteyam hides his groans into your neck, his grip on your hips bruising as he pulls you down further onto his cock. Your body slumps forward onto Ao'nung, burying your head into his chest, arms around his neck pulling him closer. The new angle opens you up further, making the slide easier when Neteyam finally bottom out.

Ao'nung's eyes are glued to your cunt, how you're pretty pussy is stretched out around Neteyam's cock, your slick dripping down your thighs. Ao'nung keeps watching as Neteyam pulls out a little to push back in, your soft cries pulling him out of his trance. An odd bulge as formed in your belly, moving in time with Neteyam's gentle thrusts. His hands wander down to cradle the bump, feeling the skin move with every building thrust.

"Fuck," Neteyam moans. "You feel so good, Yawne, so perfect for me." he says pulling out and thrusting back in with more force, slowly building a rhythm.

Ao'nung's hand scales down the length of your body, stopping just above your clit. He quickly glances up at Neteyam only to find him already staring at him, Neteyam nods at him, giving him permission to touch you.

Ao'nung kisses your small ear, cooing praises to you as he starts rubbing your puffy clit in tight circles. "You are doing so good, Paysyul."

Your response is muffled as you practically scream from the new sensation, clenching hard around Neteyam's cock making him whimper. You snap your head up and turn to look at your mate, "Nete–" you're cut short by Neteyam pushing your body down on his cock, grinding his cockhead into your pleasure spot.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, jaw going slack as your beautiful moan sings out into the night, body shaking and clenching as you cum, squirting your release around Neteyam's cock.

Neteyam curses, his head falling back as you clench impossibly tighter around his throbbing cock, pushing him into his own orgasm. Warm, thick ropes of his seed paint your walls white, his hips continuing to rock into yours, dragging out your orgasm.

Ao'nung watches in stunned silence at you. Your sweet, small body in complete bliss as you tremble against his chest, softly whimpering your pleasure into his ear. He doesn't pay attention to the way your fingers wrap around his tswin until he feels a delightful pressure developing at the base of his skull, that quickly travels down his spine to his neglected dick when your soft squeeze turns into a gentle tug.

Ao'nung's visions goes completely white, limbs going numb as your fingers keep massaging his braid, an unexpected knot unraveling in his lower stomach immediately. "Oh, Great Mother–" his strength fails him as his cock twitch, rope after rope of his seed drenching his loincloth until it spills to the ground. His thighs shaking as he pants into your chest, mumbling words of praise to you.

It wasn't until Neteyam removed your hand from his tswin that Ao'nung was able to take a full breath again, taking a moment to enjoy your warmth against his cheek as he collected himself, daring to crack open his eyes and look at you. And of course you were looking back.

You give him a tired smile, eyelids drooping as you pet his cheek, "Enjoy yourself, 'Nung?" All Ao'nung could do was nod, eyes blown wide, tail tapping gleefully against the ground.

Your smile grows wider at seeing his contentness, and lean forward to peck his lips. Ao'nung immediately pulls you back in for a deeper kiss, cradling your head and relishing in your essence. But it didn't lost long as Neteyam pull you apart, holding you close to his chest to check on how you're feeling His eyes scanning your tired body, love bites covering almost every inch of your satin skin.

He chuckles as you start to drift in his arms, "Let's go home and get you cleaned up, Oeyä Yawntutsyìp." he whispers into your ear, kissing your cheek as he stands, somehow dressed again while Ao'nung was still recovering.

Your small hand reaches out to Ao'nung, making him rush over to your side, making your hand disappear in his. He brushes his lips across your knuckle, memorizing the feel of your skin one last time, nosing at your wrist to ingrain your scent to memory.

"Next time, let's meet at the moon pool. It'll be easier to clean up."

A deep growl rumbles through Neteyam's chest, his eyes narrowing as he looks down at you. "One time only." he then looks to Ao'nung, his ears pining back as Neteyam bares his teeth. "Nothing more."

Neteyam quickly turns, walking away from Ao'nung and towards the beach. Your expression is chiding as you lightly smack his chest before nuzzling into his neck. Your head lulls back as you look to the sky, stealing one last glance at Ao'nung. Your lips curl into a devilish smirk and you wink before going out of view.

Ao'nung feels his body lighten at the jester, hope filling his chest. Maybe he will have more than just a taste one day.

©️Eywaite2023 | All rights reserved. Do not republish, steal, repost, modify, translate or claim any of my work as your own.

Gotham City High School

They're still talking.

It's been several weeks but they haven't stopped. In fact, she'll say it's gotten worse.

Before, it was just whispers behind her back and poorly concealed side-eyes. Now, they've taken to brazenly stare at her like she's some exotic animal, even approaching her at times to ask about her health, only to step back when she answers with a gentle smile, their eyes reflecting something between horror and fascination.

She found it amusing at first. Their faces looked so stupid at time she had to supress her laugh a lot.

But it's getting annoying now.

Whenever she goes, whenever she looks, they're there. Muttering, blinking at her, trying to strike clumsy converstations as if she's some long-lost friend who finally returned. All while keeping their distance and staring at her unnervingly.

Sometimes, she feels like a desecrated creature on display.

A pair of girls stand straighter when she passes by, following her with their eyes wide open. She catches the magazine one of them is holding, reading the bold letters in the cover title.

"Wayne heiress's lavish purchases turned into secret charity donations? Follow Vicky Vale's interviews to witnesses for more!"

Of course. The media doesn't help the insanity.

(Good to know Vale is a monumental pain in the ass in every life)

She sighs, adjusting her backpack on her shoulder. It's flashy and clearly expensive. Something made to draw attention to the teenage girl who wears it...and subtitly brag about her money.

In another life, she wouldn't have ever come to school with this thing, not even her mum wouldn't allow it. But everything is different now, isn't it?

To be honest, she can't really hold it against these guys for acting the way they do. From their perspective, this must be some kind of fever dream.

She knows her current behaviour clashes greatly with what everyone else is used to from her.

"She's gone mad. There's no other explanation."

"I don't know. She seems to be the same, but nicer."

"Seriously? She's already made three teachers cry from arguing about the lessons with them. Poor Miss Terris was about to faint!"

Yeah, well, she's not going to stay quiet when people who are expected to educate and prepare them for the future teach their damn subjects wrong.

Plus, Miss Terris's lessons were poorly structured and boring anyway. It was for the best.

"Didn't she also disagreed with Mr Johns so badly that he took a whole day off in the middle of class?"

"Oh my god, yes. Luke told me about it. She questioned his thesis for the PhD and started scrutinizing each point like she was grading the damn thesis herself. Apparently, half the arguments didn't stand and it lacked solid references."

"I saw the poor man afterwards. He looked like he was rethinking his whole existence."

That guy should've thought better before writing his thesis on cybersecurity, the one field she’s studied, mastered, and dominated for years. Reading that thing hurt her eyes more than her correction hurt his feelings.

Next time, he won't ignore her questions and shame her in front of the whole class. A time off sounds perfect for self-reflection.

"How can someone like her know so much about cybersecurity anyway? Enough to criticise a professional about it?"

"It's weird. I mean, do you remember the last time she talked back to teachers?"

"No. She's never interrupted lessons, much less to call them out on it. And she's actually right most of the time! It makes no sense."

Because she was a spoiled little brat who lowered her head at the first sign of dissapointment from adults and ran off to her mother to fight the battles for her.

Now she's a spoiled brat with a backbone.

But she understands their confusion. They have every reason for it. Ever since her return, she's been a walking contradiction of everything they've seen and known from her. A mystery.

Really, she's only annoyed when they invade her space with their antics. If you're going to speculate and gossip, do it quietly when the person in question can't hear you. Otherwise you look stupid and attention-seeking.

Or even better: Keep your thoughts to yourselves and let people live, geez.

She wonders if this the kind of attention she would've liked, once upon a time. Maybe this is what that part of her craved so bad. Or maybe she was content either way. Bad attention is still attention and all of that.

From afar, she spots Stephanie staring at her, arms crossed and eyebrows pinched in suspicion. She's no doubt thinking the worst of her, expecting a tantrum at any moment or anything that exposes whatever "scheme" she must have in mind.

Anything to remind everyone how rotten the spoiled Wayne heiress is.

"Do you think...she lost her memories somehow and doesn't remember how to act?"

"Don't be stupid, Kevin. If she lost her memories, she wouldn't even know where she is. Nah, this girl is perfectly fine. Probably just faking for attention again."

She snorts quietly. She can't help it.

Their theories aren't so far fetched. Just lacking a little twist.

Because it's not that she lost her memories.

She actually gained more.

As they wonder about her true motives and the reasons behind her change, none of them can come close to the truth.

That the girl they know died. Literally. Several weeks ago, her heart stopped beating as she bled out in the ice.

And somehow, she came back....with her soul and conscience fused to someone else's.

Wayne Manor

She hasn't moved from the greenhouse in twenty minutes.

Or so she thinks. She hasn't checked the time once since she arrived.

Everyone else is out, doing whatever they usually do at this hour. School, work, send criminals to the ER. Only Alfred is still around the manor.

And herself.

She should be at school now too, but claimed sickness and refused to leave her room. Alfred was worried about her and tried to pry, but her mother and sister covered her. They understood.

How can they not?

It wasn't until she knew for sure it was only Alfred left that she gathered courage to step out, heading towards the one place that has always made her feel safe.

The manor's greenhouse.

A botanical dream come true that only rich people can afford, and her personal paradise. It's supposed to be one of the Wayne's prides, but no one is interested in caring for plants in this family anymore. Only she and Alfred.

Well, maybe Damian too, but he barely shows up since she frequents the place, sticking to his precious farm instead.

She prefers it this way. It allows her to have the place all for herself. It's her corner to hide in when the world becomes too much, the familiar scent of her beloved flowers soothing her like a lullaby just for her ears.

And right now, the world is a lot bigger and more devastating that it's ever been.

It's been days. Long, excruciating days of processing what happened, what it means. Assimilating how things are now. Trying to get through the new routine without crashing out, despite being all she wants to do since she woke up.

Mum jumped right into action as soon as she got a hold over their new situation, and her older sister handled it as she handles everything: Adapting and somehow finding a way to benefit from it.

She envies them for it. For being able to go on with their new lives almost normally while she's still stuck repeating the same scene in her head over and over. What she saw, what she felt.

That's why she needed to come here. Nature has never dissapointed her. She loves her plants and all the green that surrounds her in a explosion of beauty she's nurtured over the years. In times of sorrow, it's her passion what comforted her, along with her family.

When you learn about mother nature, you understand everything follows a pre-established cycle that pushes it all forward, regardless of whatever obstacles there might be. It's about balance within the chaos. No one can evade it.

It's reassuring, to know that no matter what happens, you can trust nature to always find a way to fulfill its rules.

It's a shame my favourite color in the world is the same as certain asshole's eyes. Such beauty wasted on that demon, she bitterly recalls.

She inhales, taking in the scent of wet grass and some freshly bloomed flowers. It's the middle of Spring, after all. The season of life and rebirth, when all that died in winter blooms back with the same beauty as before, as if they never withered in the first place.

Just like she did.

Like the three of them did.

How deliciously ironic that it happened in Spring out of all. Maybe this is really mother nature's work, once again finding a way to restore the balance.

Or maybe it's some wicked game from the universe to make our lives even harder, her inner voice supplies.

She has no idea.

All she knows is that she should be dead. In fact, she vividly remembers dying, exhaling her last breath. Right on cue, she feels a sharp sting from her inner wrists. She rubs the pained zone over the bandage she put on herself.

It's a reminder of the incredibly dark motive behind her new life. Her second chance, as Mum said it is.

The death she remembers happened a lifetime ago....but the pain on her wrists belongs to someone's else death.

This greenhouse has been her paradise in another life, and her grave in this one.

And still..

What a beautiful place to part from, she can't help but think.

All of it, without ever noticing the shadow watching her back, still and silent in a corner of her sacred place. Waiting. Guessing. Or just looking.

a/n: Prologue for my uncoming Yandere! Batfam reincarnation au...with possible other Yandere! DC characters and my other ocs included in it because why not lmao I've been reading too many reincarnation of villainesses webtoons recently, so, here we are now

@la-patrona-magdalena (la culpable de este au, the enabler)

now he’s got a hand down your shorts, carefully situating you into his lap and keeping a steady hand pinching at the fat of your hips. "how's that?" dick asks, circling your clit with generous pressure before slipping right inside. his fingers hit you deep, way deeper than your own or anyone else's, and that little fact has him all the more eager.

calculated efforts nudge at that sweet spot and you gasp, thighs flinching and giving him more room to get a little deeper. you glance at him with an almost awkward expression but he’s already enthralled, lazily tugging your shorts down a bit further with a hungry glint in his eye.

“it’ll feel better when you calm down,” dick coos at you, a sly hand slipping under your shirt to brush over a hardened nipple. “relax for me.” he’s gentle with you despite his brewing impatience, scissoring and spreading your cunt open on his fingers to coax you out of your nervousness. you start rolling your hips and his fingers curl way deeper, eyes shooting open with a soft cry of his name.

“it feels…“ you start with a pleasurable hitch of breath, “feels-“

“good?” he finishes the thought for you with a particularly deep thrust, “I know, sweetheart, but it’ll get better.”

his thumb barely touches your clit and you tremble, arms clinging around his neck as you gasp and whine right into his ear. pretty little noises just for him as his free hand palms your breast, urging you closer and closer into him until you’re moaning into his mouth. from this angle his kisses are sloppy, swallowing up your keens as he finds the speed that has you writhing in his lap.

“yeah- keep doin’ that,” dick manages between kisses, spreading your legs wider as you twitch around him and you swear you hear him moan with you. “just like that, baby- fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

“dickie,” you whine, half outta your mind with pleasure, “‘m close- so close, please-“

“I know, sweets, give it to me-“ he pants with you, lips loosely catching yours just before he catches the perfect angle inside you, “cum for me, pretty girl, c’mon.“

your hips grind into his leg a few more times and you cry, holding dick close and practically crumbling in his grasp as you leak around his knuckles. dick talks you through what feels like a never ending orgasm and his hand fails to stop moving, mesmerized by what he’s pulled out of you, sticky fluids dripping into his palm as your pussy squelches around his fingers and you whine.

“dick, I- shit- I just-“

“I know, babe,” he confirms with a pleased grin, still holding you in his lap with the perfect view of your mess. “relax, remember? lemme try something.”

dick shuffles from beneath you until you’re sitting right on top of his cock, throbbing through flimsy pajamas while he works out a new angle. you’re dazed and a bit confused, still trembling in overstimulation until the coil swells into another rapidly approaching orgasm. he’s nudging at your g-spot over and over with more intensity, kissing at your shoulder while groping your tits and it has you damn near tears.

“you feel that, yeah?” he checks, “deep in your tummy? let it go, baby- let me see it.”

you can’t wrap your head around what he’s looking for, but you give it to him regardless- head hanging over his shoulder with a desperate whine and arching away from dick. distantly, you feel the fabric under you, soaked beyond what you thought normal as he trails off in praise over your moans. “goddamn, that was gorgeous- all for me, huh?” his fingers pump in and out a few more times as the high fades, then removing them to finally rest. “was I the first to see that?”

it takes a moment of recovery—deep and staggered breaths with a low whine before processing the mess. before processing that your best friend just made you fucking squirt.

“oh my god,“ you stumble over words, “i’m sorry, dick, I didn’t-“

“babe,” he cuts you off with the casual endearment again, “you’re telling me no one’s made you do that before?” his hand’s soiled with your slick and cum and he brings it to his mouth with no hesitation, letting you slide out of his lap as his tongue laps around his fingers.

“mm… no,” you mutter while ogling at the hard-on straining his ruined pajamas, “I didn’t… I didn’t even know I could do that,” and after a moment, the awkwardness finally seeps away when he laughs out of content with himself.

“y’think you could give me another?” he asks with no shame, kneeling between your legs with the intent of getting his proper fill. “it’ll be better with tongue, too- when you cum, I mean,” he corrects himself as if he gave away his shameful thirst, like you wouldn’t catch on. like you wouldn’t remember how your best friend’s so easily pussy whipped.

dick doesn’t even give you time to answer his question, though, pulling you to the edge of the couch and suckling on your clit as he locks your thighs around his head. you can tell from the groan that vibrates through you that he’s palming his cock through the fabric drenched in your fluids, and you can tell that he fully intends to pull another orgasm out of you all under the guise of ‘demonstrating’ for you.

“you’re shameless, dick grayson.”